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Harry was on his way back from Drizelda’s hair salon, happily counting his earnings for the day. Initially, when Uma had first assigned him to collections, he’d struggled, but it had gotten easier with time. Nowadays, he could just about make it through the day without even feeling sick, maybe that meant he was becoming a bad person, but he just saw it as collecting taxes, and he could live with that—politicians do a lot worse shit.
He’d gotten a pretty good haul today, still counting past two-hundred, two-fifty, two-seventy-five— when he was distracted by a noise.
There’s some clattering, groaning and the sound of bags rustling to his left. Harry rolled his eyes, it was probably another tussle, he was tired of the amount of fights that broke out in this neighbourhood. Sure, they were fun sometimes (usually if he could bet on them) but when it was late, and he was tired, he did not want to deal with that shit.
He was about ready to walk on past, needed to make it to Uma’s and then back home before his dad got mad, when he heard the really, really, soft sniffling. He paused, intrigued even though he knew he should probably just carry on, should probably just ignore it, should probably let the kid figure things out for themselves.
But he paused.
“Who’s back there?” he called out. The sniffling immediately stopped. He rolled his eyes again as he took a few more steps into the darkened alley, trying to scout for the voice. Uma would definitely have him just walk straight by (she’d berate him if he ever decided to tell her about this little detour), but he couldn’t just leave a crying kid behind where anyone could find him. Not this close to the dock. Not when they had basically made themselves a sitting target.
They wouldn’t last the night
“C’mon kid, I don’t have all day. Get up ‘fore I have t’give ye something t’cry about,” Harry took a few more steps before the heard the voice call back.
“I can’t,” He turned, following the sound.
“What were that?” He called back.
“I—I can’t move!” was the strained reply he got just as Harry closed in. He stopped just behind a skip and was surprised to realise, he recognised the young boy laying amidst the dirt.
“Gil?” he asked hesitantly, the boy didn’t respond, “Gaston’s son?” he clarified barley holding back a laugh and Gil looked away, blushing.
“Yea that’s me and, as you can see, I’m no threat, now can you just go?” his voice was quiet, trembling and Harry stopped laughing. Uma had been watching Gil for a while now, they’d been friends when they were younger, and she felt he had potential to join the Wharf rats. Harry didn’t see it. He thought the boy was small, weak. He was always getting pushed around – by his brothers especially. Though the scowl currently on his face was out of character. It almost seemed he was trying to… stand up for himself.
Interesting.
Harry analysed him for a moment. He seemed fine, a bit shaken up, but ultimately okay. One of his legs was twisted up pretty bad though, and Harry doubted Uma would be very happy if he just left him here to bleed out regardless of his personal thoughts of the lad.
“What ‘appened? Yer leg looks like shit,” Gil didn’t respond. Instead just settled on heaving breaths and trying to calm his racing heart. His leg killed, he didn’t even want to sneak a look in case it was worse than he thought. His mom had set him a birthday present, that was it. But that was enough to make his brothers angry they hadn’t gotten one too. Thus, led to them taking all their anger out on him. He knew his leg was broken and that breathing hurt— but he was sure there was more wrong with him. Not that he’d ever know. There were no hospitals on the isle.
“Gee really? I didn’t realise?” Gil muttered angrily before trying to lift himself up, or scoot himself away…? Harry couldn’t really tell. He sighed once it became obvious he’d get no further response
“Listen dude, I can’t help, if ah don’t know what’s wrong wit ye. And stop scooting around like that! You’ll fuck up yer leg even worse!” Surprisingly, Gil listened and stop trying to get to wherever he was planning on going.
Harry made a split decision, it was impulsive really – he’d probably regret it but,
He reached down and helped the younger boy up, carrying most of his weight.
“Let’s get you back then,” he muttered to gill, uncharacterizable soft. The younger boy was shocked into silence and could only nod. Together they hobbled back to Harry house.
They encountered CJ on the way up to his room, she opened her mouth to snark something but after the look Harry levelled her with she didn’t say a word.
They’re mid-way through cleaning Gil’s wounds when Harry gets uncomfortable with the way he’s being stared at.
“Why are you looking at me?” Gil’s contact with his face doesn’t waver, Harry sighs and places the wet rag in the sink, looking up to make eye contact, “What?”
“Why are you being so nice to me,”
“I’m cleaning your wounds, not proposing... don’t get any ideas just cause I’m down on one knee,” He deadpanned. Surprisingly Gil giggled and harry shocked himself by laughing along with him.
This wasn’t good
He got his leg and ribs cleaned and wrapped it to the best of his ability, the pair quietly chatting all the while. They sat together for hours on Harry’s bed and the talking divulged from nonsense banter to chats about both of their shitty lives. Gil tried to leave multiple times, but Harry didn’t want him hobbling home alone on a busted leg and whiplash. They didn’t even realise the time had flown by till CJ stuck her head in the door,
“Look, unless ye want dad kicking him out n’ta de streets I’d suggest ye bozos keep yer voices daun. Its 1am, good night,” she scowled, storming off. Gil blushed and started to slide off the bed, one again, but Harry stopped him,
“Nah, stay! I’ll sleep in CJ’s room,”
“No—” Gil started to complain,
“Dude, its fine. Ye good? Need anything?” he asked fleetingly as he left.
“Do you think I could have a glass of water?” Gil asked quietly, hesitantly, and Harry paused in the doorway, he smiled even though the younger boy couldn’t see it.
“Anything yer lil heart desires,” he responded and headed to the kitchen. Upon returning with a full glass and a decanter in case Gil wanted more, Harry found him asleep on the bed. He placed the items on the bedside table for when Gil would undoubtedly wake up parched in the middle of the night and leant down to place a kiss unto his forehead.
“Sleep well stór,” He murmed as he left the room. He wasn’t surprised to the CJ waiting for him by the door.
“Dude… yer so fucked,” She snorted,
“Don’t ah fucking know it, lass,”