Chapter Text
Sunday did not leave Boothill for a moment, and the other had no intention of letting him go until he was completely at ease. However, he had no choice and had to get him home before he got sick. Sunday shivered in his arms every now and then and sniffled, nose buried in Boothill's neck.
"Let's go to my place. Is it a problem?" Boothill whispered in his ear as he stroked his bluish hair.
"Anywhere else but not at that nightmare again…" Sunday looked at the other with glassy eyes and Boothill nodded. He wondered what had happened. Who had managed to hurt his angel so much?
Boothill helped him onto the bike and put his helmet on, this time Sunday not resisting at all. He immediately hugged the taller one's back and held on tight as Boothill started and drove off.
Boothill was driving faster than usual because he was worried and slightly angry. Thoughts about Sunday were running through his head. Fortunately, at that time of the day there was not so much traffic anymore and it was easier for him to react in serious situations. Soon they were in front of a simple two-story house with a yard and a garage. Boothill's home. It had the style of those from the wild west.
Boothill had left the garage door open so he went straight inside with the bike. He quickly turned it off and got out of the vehicle, Sunday followed suit with his actions. The other closed the garage and pointed to where the door to the house was. Sunday handed him the helmet to be left on a shelf nimbly and Boothill put his hand on Sunday's waist. He led him inside, putting on a pair of slippers taken from the locker in the hallway.
"Boothill? Where have you been?" A man's voice came from the living room and then footsteps followed. "It sounded like you were chased by a herd of cows." A middle aged man in casual clothes appeared in the doorway and Boothill gave him a look that meant he should be careful what he say.
The man's eyes rested on the other figure of the unknown youth and smiled. Good thing Sunday didn't have any more tears on his face, but he also didn't have the strength to greet the man.
"Nick, this is my friend. Sunday, Nick is my father." Boothill broke the awkward silence by getting the job done without creating too much pressure on Sunday. "We'll be in my room."
"Okay. If you need anything let me know. I'll be in the living room." Nick nodded and went back to the TV where they were playing some Survivor show.
Boothill then led Sunday up the stairs and they went up to the second floor where the first door was his room. Sunday entered before the owner, who opened the door for him as if he were an important person.
The room was decent, the gray walls had posters of rock bands hanging here and there, the furniture was wooden like all the other rooms. A desk with a laptop above under the window and a not-so-large bed against one wall. Sunday settled into the chair and his curious eyes watched everything with interest. He had pictures of many people on the desk and tilted his head. On one he saw little Boothill riding a horse and smiling so happily. On another, there were seven people lined up side by side in front of a huge farm.
Boothill noticed the things Sunday was observing and stood next to him. He pointed to the family photo, which he began to explain to him. "This was when I was seventeen. My family and I were very successful with our farm. We all lived in a small town then. This is Nick and this is Grey. They are our parents. These are my brothers and sisters. Some of them they're still there, but I came here to study. Nick didn't want to leave me alone the first year, and that's why he's here."
Sunday listened intently. "Why aren't you in the picture?"
Boothill laughed. "I had to take the picture. I lost the bet." It was Sunday's turn to laugh. "Promise me you'll always smile like that. You look even more angelic."
Sunday blushed and then looked at the other photo. Boothill spoke again. "Dan Heng and I rode horses here for the first time. I did brilliantly, but he didn't stop falling. The next day he couldn't get out of bed because of the pain."
"Poor thing. How long have you known each other?" Sunday swiveled in his chair to look at Boothill, who sat on the edge of his bed.
"I'm not sure. Maybe since I was twelve. I remember his parents and him coming over to their villa every summer. It's a small town and we all knew each other." Boothill rubbed his hands on his hips before standing up. "Do you want to take a shower? It would be nice to warm up."
Sunday nodded and Boothill pulled a towel from one wing of his wardrobe, the hinges of which creaked open. He began rummaging on the other side for smaller sized clothes that could fit Sunday and handed him the things. He took the clothes and got up from the chair because Boothill had to take him to the bathroom. It was at the end of the corridor.
"You can leave these here. They won't get wet. Here is the shampoo, shower gel and a moment please." Boothill opened the cabinet above the sink. "Toothbrush. You can stand as long as you want. No problem. Also, be careful not to burn yourself when setting up the shower. It's a bit difficult because the mechanism is old."
"Thanks, there was no need for all that." Sunday felt strange. No one had ever paid him so much attention before. He was always left to fend for himself and learn from his books.
"For you always. Nice bath." Boothill nodded to him and left the wet room to leave Sunday alone.
During this time Boothill replaced the sheets on his bed with new ones and opened the window to air out for about five minutes. Then he turned on the convector stove so the room would be warm when Sunday returned. Once he was done with that, he went down to the first floor. Nick watched from the edge of the couch as Boothill made tea and took the brownies they had made together earlier that day out of the oven.
"You could have told me to prepare these things instead." Boothill looked up to see that his father was already propped up on the counter next to him. "It's not nice to leave your guests alone."
"Don't worry. He is taking a shower right now." Boothill said as he cut the pastry into pieces. There was a strange note in his voice.
"Did something happen?" Nick crossed his arms and lowered his eyebrows. "Otherwise you wouldn't have gone out without telling me."
"Yeah. I got a call from him saying he wanted me to pick him up from somewhere. I think he was running, he sounded hurt. Maybe he was running from someone." He could only feel his anger welling up at the thought. Boothill was a man who loved and protected his family and friends. So when he saw Sunday crying, he was on the verge of going and teaching the one who hurt him a lesson. "I haven't asked him anything yet. I'll wait for him to calm down because I don't want to force him."
"Hmm. Okay. You may not tell me anymore, but you're on the right track boy." Nick tapped his son on the shoulder. Boothill sighed and turned to grab a tray from one of the cupboards. In it he put the plate with the cut brownies and two cups of tea in them.
"I can't quite make up my mind about him yet. We only just met after all, but the way you treat him I can tell he's really precious to you." Nick was talking all the while, and when Boothill smiled at him, he realized how right he really was. Boothill is fair, even sometimes too much, but that's a nice trait, isn't it?
"Now go and shower him with your love." Nick smiled widely and Boothill laughed.
"Understood." Boothill took the tray and went back to his room again, where it was already quite warm. He left his things on his desk and thought. Maybe he would pull out a quilt and lay on the ground. While he was wondering whether to do so, and as he had left the door open, he did not realize when Sunday had entered.
"Boothill?" He called and Boothill turned to him a little more abruptly than expected and was stunned by the sweet sight before him. Although not very large, Boothill's t-shirt reached mid-thigh, his pajama legs were also much longer and trailed on the ground. "I left the towel in the bathroom."
"Okay." It took him a few seconds to shake himself back to reality before answering him. "Come on, I made some tea. It's herbal. I also brought some of the brownies my dad and I made today. And you can close the door. You're not too warm, are you?"
Sunday stifled a laugh caused by the overly concerned Boothill. He closed the door and sat back in the chair, and the other took one of the glasses and sat on his bed. "It's good." Sunday sipped the warm tea and made a sound of thanks. "Tea is nice. Linden?"
"Yes. I chose it because it has a slight sweetness and it's okay to drink without sweetener." Boothill watched as Sunday picked up a piece of the cake and took a slow bite. He waited a bit and bid. "Well? Do you like it?"
"Very much. You did great. Do you cook together often?" Sunday tilted his head curiously. In his home, food was only prepared by the manor's cook. His mother had never set foot in the kitchen, let alone made anything with her son.
"Quite. Sometimes we do other things together. I've loved helping my fathers since I was little. I had a special interest in raising animals." Boothill explained. "Those funny moments have always warmed me. I'm grateful, especially because I'm adopted. I wouldn't have made it in this world on my own."
Sunday watched him with interest. So many new emotions were unlocked inside him. He was glad to get to know him, because in this way he was rediscovering himself. Something switched in him and he felt so safe and welcome.
"You were adopted?" Sunday asked.
"Yes. Gray and Nick found me as a baby. I was abandoned. I have no memories of then and for the better. My family is wonderful." Boothill liked to talk about them and Sunday didn't mind listening to him, but somehow he wanted to share something with him too.
"When I called you… Then I just ran from…" Sunday swallowed and lowered his head to his lap where his hands held the cup of tea. "My mother said that we will have guests. Future collaborators. Therefore, I must behave according to etiquette. Of course, I am used to these evenings, but I did not expect them to come with their son, with whom I have a past that I want to forget about. "
Boothill was surprised that he had so boldly begun to tell, and leaned forward to place his hand on Sunday's. The other looked at him and nodded to him to continue.
"When I was a student I didn't have any friends. One day the boy in question talked to me. I was fooled, I thought he wanted to be friends, but alas he had ulterior motives. It took me a long time to understand him. He made hints that the innocent diligent student that I have been didn't blink to understand. One day... he touched me. I didn't like it, luckily I was able to get away because a teacher decided to walk across the hall at that moment, making him back off. I ran away, and then several more such situations followed. I was alone and didn't know what to do. But after all these years, he still wanted to try his luck..."
"Don't tell me that…" Boothill looked angry. He wanted to find this bastard and beat him up. "How far has he gone?"
"He almost managed to…" Sunday frowned. He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to go back to that moment. Boothill realized this and stood up to approach. He put the cups on the desk and hugged Sunday.
"I will cut off his attributes." Boothill snapped over Sunday's head. "I'm sorry. I just can't wrap my head around it."
"No problem. I had forgotten about it, but I just didn't expect to be reminded like this. Also, maybe now that I'm with you, you'll look out for me." Sunday whispered ashamed of his ideas, but he really felt Boothill as a protector, the one who would give him hope for a happy life and most likely he would.
"I promise. I'll keep you safe my angel." Boothill placed a kiss on Sunday's temple. "Now let's go to bed, it's getting late."
Boothill lifted him from the chair and placed him on his bed. Then he turned to look for a thicker quilt. He would prepare a bed with it and sleep on the ground.
"What are you doing? Come here." Sunday cocked his head to the side. "I have no problem sleeping together." Boothill could see the pink in his cheeks and smiled.
"If you so kindly invite me."
A few minutes later they were in Boothill's bed, wrapped in a warm blanket and Sunday snuggled in the other's arms. Soon both of them calm and warm enough to drift off into sweet sleep.