A Place to call home Chapter 1.
@bigmack2go @ponleloquequier @the-woirld-is-yer-erster
When Medda got the call asking if she had room for a boy to come and stay, she made her way up to the room instantly, getting it set up the minute the call ended. She wouldn't turn him down, even if she didn't even know him at all.
The boy, Antonio, arrived shortly after, but didn't say anything, not even bothering to say hello. God, he's skinny, don't they feed him? She thought, then thought better of it. Maybe they hadn't. He looked tired, worn, bordering on sick, in a way. Dark circles under his eyes, blond, curly hair that looked like it needed to be cut. Fear showed in his blue eyes. He was someone Medda wanted to care for. Show that he was welcome here. Safe.
Race, as he liked to be called,which he had not told Medda, sat on the bed, in this godforsaken house, that would definitely not last. A week, he thought, if that. It never lasted long.
"I'm gonna give you space, Antonio, but, if you're hungry, everything in the kitchen is yours to help yourself to, no questions asked."
That was new. But it meant a lot to him, even if he never was expecting to stay. He nodded, but sat on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest.
"It's Race. Not Antonio." He whispered it, moved back on the bed, not looking at her.
"Well, Race, I know you might not like being here right now, but.. whatever you need, I'm here, okay?"
He just picked at the blanket on the bed, eyes fixed on the window. "They all say that. Then things go to hell, an' they's sendin' me away again." His eyes close, and he rested his head against his knees.
"You don't have to trust me tonight, Race. But I am here, because I care." She reassured, and stepped out, which he was grateful for. He wanted to be alone. Fuck this place, and what was, no doubt, empty promises. Every home he'd ever been to had said he was welcome there. But not after he picked fights at school, tried to run off, actually ran off, and all that. It never ended well anyway. To not have to hear the things she said, he took his hearing aids clear off, placed them on the bedside table. The room was decent sized, the bed in the middle of it, headboard against one wall, a dresser, empty, on the opposite wall. It looked neutral, and like no one lived in it. The bedsheets were a dark blue, with a black throw covering it. The walls were beige.
Eventually, the sun set, and Race, put the hearing aids back on, snuck downstairs, mainly to see if he could find a charger for his phone, the only thing he had with him, well, that, and the hearing aids, and the clothes he wore.
He spun around, signed a Sorry out of habit, but didn't say anything, just stared down at the floor, expected to be sent away.
"I don't know sign. What's wrong?" Medda's voice was gentle, as if she was talking to a scared animal.
"Uh.. Sorry, nothin'. I'm just gonna go back upstairs. It ain't important." He tensed up, everything in his pose waiting for a scolding. But it didn't come.
"You sure? 'Cause, if you need something, I might have it."
Race shook his head, bit his lower lip, not wanting to be a burden.
"Nothin'. Didn't mean to disturb ya."
Medda nodded, in understanding, without words, that he wanted something, but didn't push him, instead sat at the kitchen table, having set out some random snacks on the counter, on the other side of the room. She left the kitchen shortly after, hoping that the prospect of having the room to himself might trigger something, and that, even if he picked the Skittles, or the Cheetos, he at least ate something. It didn't really matter what, as long as the kid got something in him.
Eventually, hunger did win him over. Medda, who had only gone a bit down the hall, to the living room, heard. She also heard him try the front door.
Race was determined to at least try to get out. He wanted to escape, not wanting to be there at all. She'd betray him either way when she learned what he was like.
"Race." He spun around as she said that, stopped fiddling with the lock, and looked a lot like a deer caught in headlights.
"I... I can't stay here." He said, holding on tightly to the bag of Cheetos in his left hand, leaving it unopened. He bit his lip, looking down at the floor, vulnerable, scared, and younger than he was.
Medda stood and watched him, trying to give him space, while also being present. There for him.
"It's alright, kid.. you're safe here. I don't know you at all, but I care about you. I want you to feel as close to home as you can."
Race went for a hug at that, emotional, vulnerable, and definitely scared. She let him go for it, only returning it when he actually went for the hug, not wanting him to feel forced. Medda made him feel safe. Loved. Like she cared for real, and didn't think he was a useless good for nothing. Her hands rubbed his back, through it all.
The words did nothing to calm Race down, and when he finally did, it was pitch black outside.
Maybe, just maybe, things could be okay here.
If he was even going to be allowed to stay.
That night, Race went to bed, in the unfamiliar house, it being anything but comfortable, even if Medda was nicer than he expected, but still a stranger, and not home. He hated it all, anyway. He couldn't sleep.
But disturbing her was out of the question.
He stayed up, only managing to sleep the moment the sun rose, and light made it seem easier.
"Get out of my house. Now. I won't have you here for a minute longer. Out." The words echoed down the hall, and Race couldn't believe what he heard. Get out? And go where? He thought about calling Albert, but, that's out of the question. It's better to just... face up to it, and find some place, a train station, a bus, anything.
He woke up what felt like minutes later, panic stirred to life inside him, as the oh so familiar dream had made a return. Fuck that dream. Memory. Whatever. He got out of bed, deciding to get ready for school. Act like his whole world hadn't crumbled, with him in it, desperately trying to put it all back together, never letting anyone see through the wall he had built.
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