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@abirdhouse
an open door
And now it was time to be the responsible adult. “Do you know your parents’ phone number, Michael? Then I can tell them you’re safe and that you’re having a cup of tea and that they can come and pick you up when you’re finished. How about that?”
"I am finished," he said, looking at the cup of tea on the table. He got up on his feet then, before suddenly heading for the door. "Bye, Sir."
an open door
Tom continued to sip his tea, putting it down when only a layer was left. “So your parents don’t know where you are? They’ve probably heard word from the special place you’ve been staying at, no?”
"Maybe," he shrugged. "They will be trying to find me, I think." But he didn't want to be found.
an open door
Tom nodded slowly. “So when you need to go to that special place, you’re… ‘dangerous’?” he asked. “Is that what you are now? What does it mean when you’re dangerous?”
Tom wondered whether people would be looking for Michael. He should call his parents.
"I don't know," he replied. "They say dangerous is when I might make mistakes." He continued to sip his tea, until the cup was halfway finished. Then he put the spoon down on top of the cup, balancing it.
an open door
Dangerous? He wondered what dangerous meant. “And what about now? Are you in that special place now? Or are you with your mum and dad?”
Suddenly he didn’t feel so comfortable having someone potentially dangerous in his house. What if something happened?
"I walked away," he said. "I want to go back to my mum and dad, but then I saw your door and now I'm here."
an open door
Tom nodded slowly. Right, so he had a bit of a mental case in his home. That was alright, nothing out of the ordinary.
"No, thank you. You can keep using the spoon, if you want to." Tom took a sip from his tea, before stepping towards the table to read the note. Bradley and Ben would only be back later…
"Do you live with your mum and dad?"
Hesitantly he took the spoon back and started to continue to drink his tea. Or sip it, rather.
"Sometimes," he replied. "But when I get dangerous I live in a special place."
an open door
Tom nodded. He didn’t know what that sounded like. He guessed autism, again, but he didn’t want to be the person that made assumptions. The boy only looked about nine, but frankly he could be much older.
"And you forgot to look at your feet when passing my house?"
"Yes!" Michael said, glad that he didn't have to explain that too. At least now it was clear why he was here and that it wasn't his fault he'd done something he wasn't allowed to do.
He held the spoon out to the other.
an open door
Michael nodded, but had another spoonful of tea, before he started to talk.
"If I see an open door, I always have to walk through it. That's why they tell me to look at my feet when I walk."
Michael looked up, somewhere left and above Tom's ear. It was as good as eye contact was going to get with him, but most people didn't know that. He shook his head. "No, but that's not the point, sir."
Tom smiled a little. This had to be somewhere near autism. It had to. He should ask Ben when he was coming home.
He checked his watch and realised he was going to be late for class. It was only a lecture and he would be able to watch it back, but… Okay, okay fine, he’d come late or miss it entirely. He couldn’t just send this boy out. That wasn’t the kind of person he was.
"You can call me Tom." He smiled at the boy. "Can you tell me what he point is?”
"The door was open," he replied once more. That's why he was here now, but maybe it would be strange to other people. He had more of his tea, ignoring the question about his own home completely. He shouldn't tell strangers where he lived, after all!
Tom nodded a little and leaned down a little more to get level with the boy. “Look at me, Michael,” he asked in a friendly manner, trying to get the boy to answer his questions. “Do you think you’re allowed to walk into someone’s house when their door is open? Because that’s not really allowed, is it?”
Michael nodded. "The door was open." He had another spoonful of tea, carefully, as the metal of the spoon got hot really quickly.
Tom nodded. Probably when Ben and Bradley left, it hadn’t shut properly. “Yes, I understand that, love, but why did you come inside? This isn’t your house, is it, so why did you think it was alright to come inside?” Tom didn’t want to sound rude, but he also didn’t want to go off taking responsibility for this boy.
"Where do you live? You do have a home, right?”
He looked at the two cups of tea, then at the one specifically put in front of him. He reached forward, took the spoon from the other's cup -- as his own lacked one -- and sat on his knees in front of the table, where he started to scoop the tea onto the spoon, blow a moment, before putting it in his mouth. "I'm alright."
Tom looked him over shortly, a little confused with what he was doing, but not exactly weirded out. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen things that were this peculiar. “That’s good.” Tom cleared his throat a little. “Do you care to explain why you’ve come here? Why you’ve walked into my house?” Tom was going to be patient.
The boy didn't take the hand, because he hadn't seen it. Instead he was staring at the TV, as if engaged in what was on it, even though it was off. "I'm Michael."
Tom nodded a little, wondering what exactly was up with the boy. Was he in total shock?
Tom went back to make the tea and he put it down on the coffee table before Michael, sitting down on it so he would be in Michael’s sight. “Are you alright? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
That caused him to nod, quite excitedly so, although his eyes were still wide with fear of having been caught where he knew he wasn't supposed to be.
Tom smiled a little. “Sit down on the settee,” he said, moving to the kitchen, where he put on the kettle and readied two cups. Luckily they had an open kitchen. He could see the boy from there, so he didn’t have to worry he’d steal something after all. But enough told him that that wasn’t going to happen.
He stepped to the living room and held out his hand. “My name is Tom. What’s yours?”
Ever so slowly he crawled from under the table and approached the other. Was he going to get hurt? He could never tell. He still didn't explain what he was doing there, because he had no idea how to say it. He wasn't supposed to, he thought, but he didn't understand why.
Tom smiled a little. “It’s alright, I won’t hurt you, I promise. You can talk to me… I’m a nice person.” Tom moved his hand to encourage the boy to come out from under the table. “Would you like a cup of tea?” That calmed people, usually.
The boy shook his head, but didn't say exactly what he was there for. Instead he waited in silence for the other to either approach and through him out, or ask more questions. They always did either one of those.
Tom stepped forwards, realising the boy posed no threat, or at least not a big one.
He stepped towards the hallway first and shut the door, before stepping back to the table. “Come out from under there, it’s okay,” Tom said, holding out his hand cautiously, but in a friendly manner. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
It was funny he was helping someone who had just walked into his house, but there was a look in the boy’s eyes he wasn’t seeing for the first time.
He didn't emerge from underneath the table. Stupid, stupid. He shouldn't have done it. But he told himself that every single time he got caught... It never changed anything. "Yeah, the - the front door..." he motioned in the direction of it, as if the other wouldn't know where it was. "It was open."
Tom nodded slowly, stepping towards the table. “Are you here to steal something or hurt someone?” Tom asked, wanting to get that question out of the way before the boy could make a move.
Where the hell was Ben? He just saw a note on the table. Must be Ben’s. Great. That meant he was here alone.
Shit, someone was coming downstairs. He quickly hid under the nearest table, although that'd hardly cover him out of view. The door was too much of a sprint away and he couldn't risk getting grabbed in the process of trying to reach it. Rather be found and startle, than anything else...
Tom was about to go to class, but first lunch. “Ben! I’m making tea, do you want any?” Bradley was already out, running, probably.
Tom came down the stairs, his eyes looking up to see through to the hallway. The door was open, but more so… the front door was open. “Ben…?” He suddenly felt very cautious and stepped down the stairs slower, looking around, only to jump at seeing someone under the dinner table.
Tom kept his distance. “Who are you…? Are you okay? Ben?!”
