Part 2 to the stray idea from yesterday, bc clearly i'm not doing kinktober now...
The second ‘Stray’ was entirely his fault, though he would blame Chay and Kim’s influence for it until the day he died. After all, if Chay hadn’t brought home the annoying singer and moved him into the uncle's old room, Porsche surely would never have taken one look at this scared, bruised kid and thought, ‘Oh, let's just take him home and keep him safe.’
Though later, when he shared this theory with Kim, the brat would laugh at him and say, “sure” in the most sarcastic way possible.
Working at a bar (not that he was old enough to do more than stock shelves and clean tables), Porsche has seen a lot of things, mostly handsy drunks, some fighting, a surprising amount of crying, but occasionally things got strange, or at least different from the normal.
He has a regular couple that come in every two weeks, two guys, one of them always wearing a collar, sometimes with more than one small thin metal chain hanging from it, that had Porsche wanting to ask questions, though he never did. He’d seen one guy bring in a teddy bear and sit and have an entire drunk conversation with it, again so so many questions. He’d even seen a few gang members or mafia types, though he avoided them as much as possible. So he was used to taking things in stride.
But one slow night, he was getting a box from the storage room, when he heard what he was sure was a muffled cry. It took ten minutes to find the source. Porsche could honestly say finding a young kid, probably about Kim’s age, hiding in a tiny corner behind a bunch of boxes, face and arms covered in bruises, was definitely not something he ever expected to see at work.
When he tried to approach, the kid folded into himself, arms over his knees, head close against his chest. He wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t leave this kid here; not only would Yok not appreciate an underage boy in her bar, the neighborhood itself wasn’t exactly safe.
“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he tried to use his soft brother voice, the same one he used when Chay was younger and sick and needed comfort. He’d even used it once or twice when Kim had nightmares, though while his brother liked it and would smile at him, Kim tended to frown at him or tell him to go away.
This kid just froze in place. Porsche swore he was trying to become invisible because he even seemed to have stopped breathing, which caused him panic, “I'll get you some water!” he said in a rush, as he got to his feet and practically ran out of the storage room.
When he returned the kid, thankfully was breathing normally, he had even unburied his head from his knees and was watching Porsche as he came back in. He was glad he had grabbed a bottle from behind the bar instead of filling a glass like he had intened because there was a look in this kid’s eye when he offered the bottle that reminded him of Kim, careful, maybe even paranoid, though thankful his favorite little singer had seemed to relax more and more around them in the last few months, he still had these moments when he looked like he was expecting an attack.
“I’m Porsche,” he said, sitting down on the floor, close enough to hear the kid if he spoke, but far enough away that hopefully the kid didn’t feel cornered. He rolled the bottle across the small gap towards the younger teenager.
“It’s cold and clean,” he tried after a few minutes of awkward silences where they both just seemed to stare at the bottle. Finally, the kid reached down and grabbed it with shaky hands, though he didn’t try to open it, just pressed the bottle against his chest and looked away from Porsche again.
Biting the inside of his lip, Porsche wondered if he should call Chay, his little brother was ridiculously likable and, unlike Porsche, knew how to appear non-threatening. Though it was close to midnight and his brother had school in the morning…so that probably wasn’t the best idea.
He was supposed to be getting off work now, he had plans to leave and meet Jom at one of the new underground fighting rings, he needed the extra cash, Chay was out growing his clothes again and despite Kim’s insistences to help with bills, Porsche wasn’t going to let other teen help, so he was already on a tighter budget than a year ago. Meaning more fights, and more sad looks from his brother when he noticed the new bruises, and lately a strange look from Kim, that wasn’t quite a glare but close enough that it left Porsche feeling even more guilty.
Sitting here on the floor, looking at a kid that reminded him weirdly of Chay and Kim, he knew he wasn’t making the fight tonight, and that he was more than likely going to be skipping even more meals from now on, well, if he could get this kid to trust him.
He sighed, “I have stuff at home for bruises,” he said, “even a ointment for pain (though he had no memory of buying it or the new stash of pain bills that had appeared in his first aid kit), trust me, treating injuries is best sooner rather than later.” The kid looked up at him. This time, he looked like he was actually listening instead of watching for a threat, which was good.
“I’m pretty sure tonight was Chay’s night to cook; he’s my little brother, not the best cook, but at least he hasn’t tried to burn the kitchen down like our roommate Kim has.” The kid snorted, and Porsche smiled. “It might not be much, but we can feed you and get you wounds treated, maybe offer a couch to sleep on?”
He could tell the kid was thinking about it, though he still seemed unsure. Which was probably smart, he was a stranger, and he was offering to take him off somewhere unknown.
“Do you have someone you trust?” Porsche asked, and the kid nodded.
“Okay, so how about you take a picture of my ID, and you can take another of my bike once we are outside, then you can send it to your friend, that way they know who you are with, and I can give you my address too if that helps?”
“I don’t have my phone,” the kid muttered, though he had started to pull himself up to his feet.
“Do you know the number?” Porsche asked, quickly standing and moving a little closer in case the kid needed help. The kid took a second to think about it before nodding. So Porsche did as he said he would, pulled out his ID and took a picture of it, showing it to the still shaking teen, and then handed him the phone to let him do as he pleased.
While the teen was busy with his phone, he took a second to run into theYok’s office to grab his wallet, phone, and his jacket. When he returned to the storage area, the kid was waiting for him, rocking back and forth on his heels, clearly nervous. Porsche wished he knew the right words to use to pressure him; instead, he hoped that showing him he was safe would be enough.
“Ready?” he asked. The teen nodded.
He took him out through the alley, not wanting Yok to see the kid in her bar, then walked around front to get his bike. The kid looked a little unsure but didn’t complain when he climbed on behind Porsche, though he noticed the kid's hands went to his shoulders, not around his waist, like most would do.
The ride was silent but the body behind him wasn’t. The hands on his shoulders tightened, then loosened, then tightened over again, and the young man’s body was stiff as hell, and kept as far away from Porsche’s own as possible. The kid’s anxiety was giving him anxiety, and he had to keep reminding himself that soon they would be home, and hopefully, after feeding and cleaning the other up, the kid would relax a little more, then in the morning, Porsche could sic his brother on him.
What surprised him when he arrived home was the kitchen light being on. Thankfully, the kid only hesitated at the entryway for a second before he followed him inside.
Of course, once inside, Porsche had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. Chay was passed out on the couch, laptop and a few papers on the coffee table, and from the moving in the kitchen, Kim was still up.
“That’s my brother,” he whispered to his guest, before gently stirring him towards the kitchen, where Kim was sitting, glaring at his own laptop, “this is Kim, our roommate, Kim this is--” he froze, he never asked the kid's name. Feeling embarrassed, he turned around, cleared his throat,” I didn’t get your name.”
A snort from behind him had him turning to glare at the singer, which caused a small laugh from the other teen in the room.
“Uea,” the kid said a second later.
Porsche turned and smiled at him, “Welcome to our house of chaos, Uea.”
