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“What the hell is that?” Buck wondered, rolling over and rubbing at his eyes.
It sounded like it was coming from upstairs, judging by how muffled it was. It was a short, sharp sound, a cross between a yelp and a sob.
He sat up on the worn couch, looking around. Nobody else was in the house. The few people who’d drifted in must have stumbled their way out once he’d bedded down for the night.
“Then what is it? Has someone broken in?” he mused, stretching as he thought.
He rifled through every possibility for who might be in this house until he landed on the most likely candidate.
Just four days ago he’d brought a fourteen year old kid home and he’d been staying there ever since. He’d noticed him arguing outside with the owner of the grocery store, over something he’d stolen. Buck had stepped in and offered to pay for it, before following the kid and checking up on him. He still didn’t know why he’d done it. Maybe because he knew that a kid that young wouldn’t be stealing if he could help it. Maybe it was what he’d been stealing. Just simple stuff really, some bread, a bar of chocolate and a blanket from the very back of the store. It didn’t exactly seem like the kind of stuff a kid would steal just to show off.
It’d been hard to talk to him. He flat out refused at first and then he’d only responded in short, snappy sentences, edged with aggression and hostility. Buck was still surprised he’d even agreed to come home with him at the end of the day. He suspected that if he’d refused, the kid would have just bedded down somewhere in the streets, maybe in a nearby park if he was lucky. It sure looked like that had been what he’d been doing, even though the bags under his eyes showed that he hadn’t slept in a good long while.
“Is he alright? Is he sick or something?” Buck thought, making his way over to the stairs.
As he did, the noise only got clearer. Someone was definitely crying, violent, guttural sobs tearing their way out of them, but it sounded like they were trying to stay quiet, as if they were biting down on their lip to keep most of the sound in.
Buck continued up the stairs, slowly becoming more worried than curious. Sure, he didn’t like the kid all that much, he was grumpy and he was still half convinced that he was going to kill him in his sleep, but he wasn’t going to have a kid that young that upset under his roof. No way in hell.
He hesitated for a moment outside the bathroom door, running one hand through his hair. The sobbing was harsh, clearly coming from some deeply buried, deeply painful place. It made his heart ache in a way he didn’t think it still could. With a sigh, Buck knocked on the bathroom door, the room where the sound was coming from, trying to keep the noise low, so as not to startle the kid.
“Hey, uh, kid? You in there?” he called awkwardly, leaning against the doorframe as he spoke.
The sobbing abruptly stopped, not entirely, but enough to tell him that the kid had heard him. It had quietened now, reducing to saddened huffs, as if he was hissing the sobs through clenched teeth.
“I know you can hear me in there. What’s up? Is something going on?” he asked again, keeping his voice even and calm.
He’d learnt over the years that hollering and getting mad was no way to deal with people when they were upset, even if they were being stubborn. Sure, it was hard sometimes, and he even snapped occasionally. He didn’t think it’d be hard to keep his cool this time around. He was only a kid and he was clearly having a hard time.
“Just…go away. Everything’s fine.” he said eventually, his voice low and ragged.
“You’re bawling in my bathroom in the middle of the night. That doesn’t sound all that fine to me.” Buck replied, straining to hear if there was anything else going on in there.
“It’s none of your business anyway. Just piss off, old man.”
“I’m not that much older then you, you little shit. And I’m not getting bossed around by some fourteen year old in my own house. This is my house, buddy.”
“I don’t care. Go away. Now. I won’t ask you again.”
Buck sighed, looking down at the floor. The kid was stubborn, he’d give him that. He had no idea how he was going to convince him to let him in. Luckily, he was just as stubborn as the fourteen year old camped out in his bathroom, if not more. And he wasn’t going away anytime soon.
“Look kid. I’m not going away, no matter what you say. So why don’t you just open the door and save us both the trouble of sitting here all night arguing.” he offered, trying his best to keep his voice steady. He wasn’t going to get anywhere if he got mad and snapped at the kid. He’d probably just clam up worse then he already had. Then he’d have no damn idea what was going on.
“No. I’m not doing it.”
“Fine, let me make it easier for you. You open the door or I’m opening it.”
“No!”
The sound of fierce clattering started up on the other side of the door, the sound of shaking hands desperately trying to clean something up, tipping Buck off to what was going on.
“He must be hurt,” he thought, considering a few other possibilities at the same time, “Now I definitely can’t leave him alone. I don’t know how bad it is and I don’t want a damn corpse in my bathroom. Something tells me that won’t end well.”
With the weariest sigh of the night, Buck turned the door handle and went to push the door open. He was stopped when a sudden weight slammed into the door, pushing it closed again with a loud slam.
“I told you to stay out!” the kid yelled, his voice breaking as he raised it, the sound of tears quickly spilling over.
“If something’s wrong, I can help, it’s no problem-”
“No! No, no, just go away! I don’t need you or your help!”
“Then why are you staying in my house?”
“I-Because…Because…” He trailed off for a second before abruptly breaking down into ugly, wretched sobs again. For a moment, all the kid did was cry. He wasn’t trying to hold it in and keep quiet anymore. The sobs ripped out of him, all of this misery and pain just pouring out of the kid in a series of inaudible noises. Eventually, the weight slowly lifted off the door, but Buck still hesitated for a moment, giving the kid a few minutes to get himself together, before opening the door.
The kid was hunched near the bathtub, his arms curled tightly around his chest. He was wearing a torn, stained grey shirt, with clear bloodstains speckling the stomach of it. His blonde hair stuck up unevenly, even more uneven than usual. It was painfully obvious that he must have cut it himself at some point. The entirety of Buck’s first aid kit was messily scattered across the bathroom sink, some of it stuffed back into the bathroom cabinet. They’d clearly only just been put away, shoved back in the cabinet with scared hands.
“What happened then?” he asked bluntly, tilting his head to the side curiously.
“None of your business.” the kid growled, his tone surly. He wasn’t looking up at Buck, letting his shaggy hair fall into his face, obscuring his obvious tears.
“Well, if you won’t tell me, give me a look at whatever’s hurting you. I’ve had to stitch things up plenty of times before, I guarantee you that you’ve got nothing that’ll surprise me.” he said, moving closer.
“No! You-You can’t!” he cried, backing away, nearly falling into the bathtub.
“Why not? It can’t be that bad. What? You’ve just got a bit of a stomach wound, it looks like. Just pull your shirt off and let me have a look.”
“No! No, no, you know what, just get out, just go away!”
“Come on, it’s alright. I’m not gonna bite. No one else is here, it’s just us both in the house. You don’t need to worry.”
“Yeah, I do! Why can’t you just mind your goddamn business?”
“Why can’t you just let me help you?”
“Because I don’t want you to throw me out!”
Buck was confused by the sudden outburst. What gave him that idea? He’d tried to be hospitable, just like his grandmother had taught him. What had he done wrong?
“I-I don’t have anywhere else to stay and I don’t want to go back to sleeping on the damn streets! I’m sick of having to deal with the kids that roam the streets at night! The things they say, the things they do, the things they think, Jesus Christ, I just don’t want to deal with it anymore!” the blonde kid rambled, more tears silently spilling down his cheeks, his voice breaking.
“Why would you think that? I wouldn’t just throw you out for no reason. That’s not how things work around here.” Buck replied quietly, sensing that he was now getting to the heart of the issue.
“That’s what my old man did. He figured out that I’m sick and he didn’t want anything to do with me. He didn’t want to be associated with what I am.”
“You’re sick? With what? Cancer? Something like that?”
“No, no, not that. I’m…I’m a girl. That’s what’s wrong with me.”
“What’re you talking about? You’re as much a boy as I am.”
“No, I’m not! I’m sick, I’m stupid, I’m confused, I think I’m something I’m not!”
After that he dissolved into quiet sobs, going to wipe the tears away with his arms before just burying his face in the crook of his elbow. It was the most vulnerable Buck had ever seen the angry kid. For once, he wasn’t spitting out curses and acting generally antisocial. He was scared. Something in him ached at that thought, remembering a time when he’d been that young and scared. No one had been there to tell him that it was going to be OK. Come to think of it, no one had been there at all. He’d be damned if another kid was going to have to pick themselves back up on their own.
Buck went silent for a heartbeat, lost in thought. He’d heard about one or two people like that before, people who weren’t born the way they were inside.
“Oh. So…Makes sense why you wouldn’t want to take your shirt off then”
“Yeah. If you want me to go, I’ll do it right now if you want. You probably don’t want me spreading what I’ve got to you-”
“No, no, no way. You’re not leaving. You’re staying right here.”
“But-”
“Kid, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve done nothing but be who you really are. There’s nothing wrong with that. I have no problem with that. Anyone who does is a brainless moron! If someone ever says something like that, that something’s wrong with you or whatever, you send them to me. I’ll deal with them.”
The other teen fell silent after that and Buck worried for a second that he’d said the wrong thing, maybe said too much.
“Dallas.” the kid said quietly after a moment, looking at him for the first time the entire conversation.
“What?”
“My name’s Dallas, not ‘kid.’
“Alright. Not bad. It suits you.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Now, come over here and let me take a look at whatever’s hurting you.”
Dallas hesitated for a moment, looking at him with the eyes of a wary stray dog, the kind that’s been bitten way too many times in its life. He caved eventually though, edging forward, tugging off his shirt. He kept a tight hold on it even once it was off, clinging to it like a safety blanket.
Now that it was off, Buck could clearly see where all the blood was coming from. There was a messy wound on the younger teen’s stomach, encrusted with dried blood. There were a few clearly old, messy bandages sticking to it. It looked like it hadn’t been taken care of since he’d got it.
“Glory, where’d you get this?” he hissed, reaching over and tugging off the few bandages still clinging to the wound.
“My old man. He knows his way around a broken bottle of whiskey pretty well. Especially when he’s mad.” Dallas muttered, going back to avoiding eye contact.
“Sounds about right. Have you even looked at this since you got it?” he asked, grabbing what he’d need off the bathroom sink.
“Not really. I didn’t have time.”
“So your old man did this all because you were what? Being yourself?”
“Pretty much.”
“Scumbag.”
“Yeah, that’s him alright.” His words were quickly cut off by a string of curses when Buck pressed a cloth dipped in antiseptic to the wound. “You could’ve given me a damn warning!” he snapped, slapping at Buck’s hand.
“And what? Let you complain some more? I’d rather just get the job over and done with.”
“Whatever. Hurry up and do it then.”
Buck did just that, bandaging the wound as gently as he could. Even if he was a surly little brat, he didn’t want to cause anymore unnecessary pain. It was pretty obvious he’d already dealt with enough.
“Do you think it’ll scar?’ Dallas asked quietly when Buck turned around to put the first aid kit away.
“Probably. It looks pretty deep. Any deeper and you would’ve needed stitches.” he answered, casting a small glance over his shoulder.
It was only as he did that did he notice the bandages wrapped tightly around the boy’s chest, so tightly they’d started to leave a mark. No wonder he’d been looking so sickly and tired, no matter how much he fed him.
“Leave your shirt off for a second. I’m not done just yet.” he told him when Dallas started pulling the shirt back over his head.
“What? Why? Listen, whatever sick shit you’re into, I’m not interested. If that’s how you want me to pay my rent, I’ll happily leave right now. It's not happening.” he growled, shooting him a fierce glare.
“Woah, woah, hold your horses, it’s nothing like that! Jesus, what makes you think that’s what I want!”
“Then what do you want?”
“Those bandages don’t look like they’ve been changed in a good long while. You’re gonna kill yourself if you keep running around like that, and even if you don’t, you’ll probably end up missing a fair few patches of skin. I’ll give you a hand, get you all fixed up and comfortable. Then you and I can go get something to eat. What do you say?”
“I say go screw yourself.”
“Excuse you?”
“You’re not getting anywhere near any of that, no way in hell. It’s not happening.”
“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to. But will you at least change them yourself?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever. If it’ll keep you off my back then fine. Jesus christ.”
“Alright. Good. I’ll meet you downstairs then.”
Buck stopped at the door, riddled with all kinds of different thoughts. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure which was the right thing. He wanted to continue what he’d been saying before, tell him that there was nothing wrong with him and nothing to be ashamed of. He wanted to ask about his dad and whatever he’d done before he’d thrown his own son out of the house. That was probably too personal of a subject.
“Quick question before I go. Why didn’t you fix yourself up once you got here? I mean, I’ve obviously got all the right stuff.” he asked eventually, gesturing at the open bathroom cabinet.
“I…didn’t want to make things too obvious. If, say, all your bandages went missing at once, you’d obviously have some questions. I didn’t want you figuring anything out. Look how well that all worked out.” Dallas commented bitterly, scrubbing away the last of his tears with one hand.
“It didn’t work out that badly. I’m not going to throw you out. You’ll always have a place to stay here. Unless you screw something up royally badly, but I’m gonna hope that you won’t.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you.”
“Yeah, yeah, just hurry up and get going. I’m getting hungry and if it gets much worse I might start considering eating you.”
“There’s no chance of that, there’s barely enough meat on me.”
They both laughed at that, the tension in the air lifting for a moment, their spirits lightening ever so slightly. With a nod, Buck closed the door and hurried down the stairs, trying to think of who he’d heard about people like Dallas from. He’d have to ask them more questions then he originally had, had to figure out if there was anything he’d need. He wasn’t going to have some kid being miserable and uncomfortable under his roof, no way in hell. Whatever it took to help him feel more like himself, he was willing to do it.