Chapter Text
It hurt. And it was terrifying.
Hurt from numerous physical — and not only physical — injuries. And scary because it could all happen again. After all, Drake had only just fallen asleep, and was breathing right into the back of his head. And also because of how resilient he was.
Even though Andrew couldn’t see his small naked body in the darkness of the room, he couldn’t feel it at all. There was hardly a single living spot left without horrible marks on it.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. And this with the vow he had made to himself five years ago. That he would cry no more. It’s just a body. But at the same time, it’s supposed to be himself. He wanted to be like all the other children at his twelve, rather than trying with all his might to silence his sobs and thoughts.
At the touch to his back, he flinched so suddenly he accidentally fell off the bed. He must have made an incredible noise, though he didn’t hear it himself because of the ringing in his ears and the pain pulsing through his whole body. Especially in his lower back.
He woke him up. It’s going to happen again now.
But swallowing the initial panic, Andrew still noticed his stepbrother’s closed eyes and lack of any movement.
Drake was asleep.
And Andrew still tried not to breathe more than he had to. Carefully, he stood up on legs that barely held his body, leaning on the wall. His hands were burning, but that was hardly the biggest problem. He made it to the bathroom, and only after locking the door did he allow his knees to give in, and himself to fall.
Quiet sobs were heard, most of which he suppressed, pressing his hands tightly to his mouth.
The touch of his skin to the cold tiles on the floor calmed the wounds a little, but as soon as Andrew looked at it with his poorly focused gaze, it only got worse.
From a small window near the ceiling, moonlight fell directly on his bare and bloodied thighs.
He wanted so badly for this simply not to be happening. For it not to be happening to him. For his small body not to hurt just as much, or even more than it had years ago. But his damned eidetic memory remembered everything and kept it all in detail. Every bruise, scrape, smear of blood, patch of skin that hurt. And it was painfully familiar.
Again.
Breathing became truly difficult. Before, he had just tried to do it as quietly as possible, but now he was openly scared. He seemed to feel all his pain at once, many times stronger, and phantom sensations appeared all over his body — all those unfriendly hands that had once touched him without asking, let alone consenting. And the rescue oxygen still wouldn’t enter his lungs, making him remember how they used to choke him to make him go quiet. And that somehow made it even worse.
What’s wrong with him?
And then his gaze caught on the glint of a pack of replacement blades. Without realizing what he was doing, he grabbed one with a trembling hand, and then sharply slashed his left arm.
And in an instant, everything became clear.
He took a gasping breath, then another, and another. Doing it was hard, but possible. The pain in his whole body dulled, and he clearly felt only his forearm, pulsing from the slowly leaking blood. And why hadn’t he thought of this earlier?
The mind became clear, thoughts did not scatter, the body no longer ached as intensely as before.
The wound on his arm was completely shallow, probably just split the upper layers of skin.
Unknown how long he sat like that, but everything he had managed to get rid of with difficulty gradually returned. He wanted to get rid of everything completely, to escape. And so he slashed the skin again nearby. And the same emotions returned. Then again. Just a few not-too-deep cuts, from which blood dripped to the floor in small streams.
He wanted to run away. If not forever, then at least until morning — just not spend the night in the same house with him.
After washing the blood off himself, he started wiping it from the floor too — after all, he didn’t want Cass to worry and think something was wrong with him. Then he took a hoodie and jeans from the laundry basket — the same ones he had tossed there just a few hours ago.
That was definitely better than trying to look for something in the room where Drake was sleeping now. Then just as quietly, he slipped past him, into the hallway, and then outside.
***
He had probably been wandering aimlessly for only about an hour, but it felt like much longer. His whole body still ached the same, and the wounds on his arm had simply joined the rest.
It was dark, and the less fortunate areas of the city were lit only by the occasional streetlamp. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t surprised when he saw someone sitting on a bench in the park. The boy looked about the same age as Andrew himself.
But that immediately raised the question — what was he doing out here at this time of night? And the only answer that made sense was that his situation was somehow similar to Andrew’s own.
Using that as a reason, he approached him. Stopping just a few steps away, he began to examine the boy carefully for any sign of threat — and at the same time, the other boy did the exact same thing. He looked incredibly worn out, and his unusually dark eyes seemed... off. There was no way — absolutely no way — anyone would guess from that look that he was still just a kid. And Andrew recognized that look. He’d seen it many times before in the mirror, staring back at him.
Maybe that was why he didn’t leave.
A voice broke the silence — hoarse from disuse, but surprisingly pleasant to the ear:
"And what are you doing here this late?"
Andrew scanned him again carefully, noting the clear suspicion in the boy’s eyes. Interesting.
"Same question to you." And as he said it, Andrew realized just how hoarse his own voice had gotten. In an instant, he remembered trying to scream.
The boy in front of him frowned slightly.
"Sit down," Seeing the surprised look from Andrew, who clearly hadn’t expected such an offer, the boy shifted slightly toward the edge of the bench, as if understanding the other needed space. Andrew cautiously accepted, sitting down carefully — but still unable to fully hide the pain. And from the look he was given, it was obvious the boy had noticed. "And I asked first."
They exchanged careful glances again, and Andrew started to feel more and more like prey. And he really didn’t like that.
"Truth for truth?" Surprisingly, the stranger nodded. That made things interesting again. Not even adults always understood him, and yet here was someone — whose name he didn’t even know — who somehow did.
"I ran away from my mom for the night."
Andrew looked at the boy, who seemed pleased with his little trick. After all, he’d only given a partial truth — without actually lying.
Well then. Andrew would do the same.
"I ran away from my foster family."
To his surprise, no follow-up question came. Just like that, the next few hours passed with them sitting there together, saying almost nothing, until the sunrise began.
Then the stranger stood up silently from the bench, casting only a brief glance back in farewell. Andrew stayed sitting there for about another hour, before heading home — knowing that by then, Cass would probably be up already.
***
The next evening, Andrew left the house even before it got dark, when the sun had only just started sinking toward the horizon. Because it was simply unbearable to stay in the same house with Drake, who kept throwing him predatory glances. And there was no doubt how the evening and night would end if he stayed.
Since it was summer, the night outside was fairly warm and light, thanks to the moon.
And so he was simply walking, unhurriedly, in the direction of that boy from yesterday, feeding an unclear and completely stupid hope that the boy from last night would be there again.
And somehow, it actually made sense.
When he arrived at the same bench, the boy wasn’t there — which shouldn’t be surprising or disappointing.
But Andrew stayed anyway.
And he didn’t know what he was supposed to feel when, several hours later, closer to midnight, he saw a familiar silhouette approaching.
Just like the night before, he sat down silently on the same part of the bench and gave Andrew the same look — from head to toe. They both did it.
This time, surprisingly, Andrew was the one to speak first:
"What’s your name?"
The boy visibly hesitated and shrank into himself. Which made it even more interesting. Because that sort of reaction wasn’t something a normal kid — one with nothing to hide — should have had.
"Abram." It sounded like the truth. But before Andrew could properly process this new bit of information, the boy asked in return: "And you?"
"Andrew." Preferring not to look into the other’s eyes anymore, he turned his gaze to the sky.
"Can it be shortened somehow?" Abram next to him puffed out his lips in a funny way, which Andrew noticed out of the corner of his eye.
His heart skipped a beat. No one had ever asked him anything like that before. And it seemed like such a small thing, but it could’ve been important in the long run. Though that “long run” probably didn’t even exist.
"You can–" he didn’t even manage to finish listing the versions not to use, when he was cut off:
"Drew?"
His heart skipped another beat, but he wasn’t about to turn his head or react in any way. Apparently, the new acquaintance correctly interprets the other boy's silence, because he also looks up at the sky.
"The stars are making funny patterns." Andrew glanced at him again, secretly amazed by how unfamiliar the boy seemed with something so simple. And came to the conclusion that he really didn’t know anything.
"Those “patterns” are called constellations." he pronounced the last word very clearly, catching the boy’s attentive gaze — one clearly ready to listen. For the first time, he didn’t curse his memory, because he wanted to lock this moment and that gaze in it forever.
He then let his eyes skim over the most noticeable ones, realizing for the first time that he wouldn’t actually mind explaining something to someone else.
He pointed at the brightest and most obvious stars with his finger, tracing the shape lightly:
"That’s the Big Dipper," and seeing the other boy’s enthusiasm, he kept going, more confidently now. "Above and a bit left — Draco, Canes Venatici a bit down and to the left, Leo and Leo Minor a bit down and to the right."
And it was the first time anyone had listened to him with such awe and attention. And, he had to admit — it felt good. Then, until the end of the night and the next sunrise, they continue talking about the stars, and then the conversation somehow smoothly flows into a discussion of colour theory.
Who knew it could be so interesting to discuss something with someone who was actually attentive.
And then they part ways, without saying goodbye, because they know they will meet again the next day. And it seems like they have only known each other for two days — or rather, two nights — but it feels like they have known each other for a long time.
Back home, Andrew can only sleep until lunchtime, when Drake wakes him up, coming into his room to tell him that Cass has gone out for the day and they are alone in the house.
And then hell began — and lasted until the deepest part of the night.
***
In this time, it takes much more than a few dozen minutes come back to himself in pieces and more or less pull himself together.
Andrew spends all that time lying curled up on the cold tile floor in the bathroom, choking on his own tears, mixed with gasping attempts to breathe, and then slowly begins to regain control over his body with every new cut on his arm — far more than before.
He barely makes it out of the house closer to three in the morning, and he doesn’t know why he’s going to that damned park again. That boy — Abram — he’s no one to him. But, as it turns out, the feeling of being understood and safe is something you can get used to. And that is unbelievably infuriating.
He doesn’t know whether or not he should be surprised when he actually sees him there. And he also notices a faint bruise on the other boy’s neck — like a mark left from someone trying to choke him. Before sitting down, he hesitates a little, which clearly doesn’t go unnoticed.
For a while, they stay silent, but Andrew can clearly feel the boy’s gaze on him. So it was only a matter of time before he spoke.
"Can I ask?" He watches him from the corner of his eye, a little surprised by the question. Because asking for permission was definitely not what he had expected.
And once again, an previously unfamiliar warmth spreads through his body, because this boy is the first person in his life who really asks. So there is no reason to refuse, and he does not feel a strong desire to share the truth. So the decision was made rather quickly.
"Yes. But then I will ask something personal too."
Abram nods.
"Who did this to you?"
Andrew looks over at him, carefully weighing how much to say. Also thinking about the fact that this new acquaintance — who’s known him for only a couple of days — was able to notice it.
"Foster brother," He doesn’t miss how the other’s eyes widened and darkened, but there was no other reaction. It felt too much like understanding — with no pity or sympathy in sight. "Drake."
This time, the boy nodded. Is he really memorising the name?
For a while, silence settled between them again.
"You were going to ask who hits me?" Andrew raised an eyebrow slightly, because his guess had clearly hit the mark. And confirmed everything. So, seeing the reaction, he went on, shrugging slightly. "Right now, it’s my mom.:
Andrew couldn’t help but latch onto the wording, and he clearly guessed right about what was worth focusing on.
"Right now?"
Abram slouched noticeably, clearly not wanting to keep the conversation going — or at least not on this topic.
So Andrew let it go.
The night was more overcast this time, and the frequent clouds almost completely hid the constellations they had been talking about just yesterday. For a while, there was silence, until the new acquaintance got up and left. This time earlier than usual, and all Andrew could do was wonder if he himself had been the reason, and whether or not the boy would come back.
***
They really did meet the next night, just like they kept meeting for the next few weeks. The only difference was that Abram started coming closer to midnight and left three hours later. Sometimes bruised, sometimes exhausted, but he always came. It became a kind of unspoken promise between them.
Most of the time, they talked about the most neutral topics, simply enjoying each other's company. Though more often than not, it was Andrew who talked about something, and Abram listened silently, or with rare questions. Telling someone something turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. Usually, it was retellings of books or movies he’d read or watched during the day, but there were also far less pleasant days. Twice, they just sat in silence the whole night, when Andrew was both mentally and physically unwell.
And surprisingly, there were never any questions—only silent support and understanding.
Sometimes Abram would talk about different topics. Most of the time, these were stories about the differences between states, food, and people's mindsets.
A couple of times, he told him about the German language he had started learning with his mother. After hearing that, Andrew made a mental note to look into that language and maybe learn a bit of it himself.
Each time the boy showed up with new bruises, Andrew grew angrier at his mother. And deep inside, he started comparing her to Cass.
After quite a long time, Abram also began to share fragments of the truth about his life. Perhaps the reason for this was the realisation of how similar they were, even though they were different. And Andrew felt that too, fighting harder with each day not to overshare and not to trust. His trust had already been betrayed way too many times. It was after some time that Abram, in passing, told him about his father and showed him a scar from a burn made with an iron.
He told him about when they started running, and about meeting the two sons of exy, when his own father killed another person right in front of them.
Abram also said that sooner or later, he would have to run again.
He warned him that one day he’d just disappear, and most likely they would never see each other again. That same night, for the first time, there was a trace of real worry in his eyes when he made Andrew promise he wouldn’t come looking for him.
That night, Abram gave him a small set of lockpicks and a similarly small, light knife, and also explained how to hide it all in the folds and seams of clothing and showed him how to use it.
He taught him how to draw the knife quickly and hold it right, told him which places to aim for to hurt someone badly without killing them, and where to strike if you wanted to end it in just a few moves and seconds.
He taught him to use the lockpicks in practice too, thanks to the many old cars they could find without much trouble.
***
It happened literally just last week.
In one of those late August nights, he immediately knew something was wrong. At the very least because it was already past midnight, and the boy he considered his only friend — the one he'd grown attached to — was nowhere to be seen.
Subconsciously, he had always known this would happen eventually, but that didn’t make him any more prepared. It turned out to be unbelievably painful to lose someone who was the only one capable of brightening up his existence. But Andrew still held onto the hope that someday, they’d meet again.
***
The days that followed turned into absolute hell. Drake, who only had a few days, practically didn’t let Andrew out of his sight, and Cass persistently refused to see what was happening. Still, she was the only adult who actually loved him, so he made the decision to stay. Maybe even let her adopt him — because Drake wouldn't be in the house forever. But even then, he kept sneaking out almost every night, clinging to an empty hope.
It went on right up until his birthday, when he promised himself he wouldn’t go back. He wouldn’t get attached again, wouldn’t hold on to hope, and he wouldn’t trust anyone like that ever again.
And then, a few years later, his twin brother showed up, and the whole story with his biological mother came to light. That was also when Drake’s even more twisted fantasies came to light. That was when he was sent to juvie, and Andrew turned down Cass’s offer to adopt him. Later, he made a deal with his twin and killed their mother. Without a drop of sympathy or regret.
After that, he ended up under the guardianship of his older cousin, and life started to get a little better. The three of them began working at a club, and Andrew was finally understand his sexuality. The only bad thing was that he almost got put on psychedelics for attacking and beating the bastards who went after Nicky—but thanks to Nicky himself, the court only gave him probation.
Then the two sons of exy showed up and invited him to the Ravens. Some time after turning them down, the Foxes offered him a spot at university and an athletic scholarship. And, since three places were offered, he agreed.
Some time later, a broken Kevin showed up, and from there, everything started going downhill. Not to mention the fact that, thanks to the ex-little-raven, he heard the full story — the one his old friend had once told him.
So Kevin ended up under his protection, too.
And a year after that, that same star striker found them a new recruit. A player who looked way too much like someone he had doubted was still alive all those years after the escape.