When The Whole World Is Against You, I'll Be By Your Side: teen!James AU
Grian remembered the first day it happened.
The flat was open, all doors and windows and sunlight as Grian painted the rolling hills and valleys of a far-off land that could have been Spain, but gave off an ethereal feeling. Instead of the blood, he was painting with oil paints--something he rarely did when he did not have a commission--and enjoying the mild spring air. The traffic only made occasional disturbances around the flat, and even then, the noise blended in harmoniously with the rest of the flat. Today, it did not matter if anyone attempted to rob him. Today, nothing mattered. Today was peaceful and today was beautiful sun dappling Gadget's fur and a light breeze playing across Grian's face as he painted.
It was also the day that someone simply walked in and settled on his carpet.
A someone who was sinewy and appeared remarkably short.
Even more remarkable were the piercings that covered the youth like maggots on a rotting body.
Grian first thought of him as remarkably short because, as he noticed later, the adolescent was sitting silently and staring as the artist worked. Grian doesn't remember when he entered the room, and perhaps it would be different if he did. As the moment stretched and the youth stayed on Grian's floor, he stretched as well.
It was when he was working on a stubble of rice plants that he finally broke the silence between the stranger and himself. "Afternoon. I'm Grian Fife."
"Pleasure to meet you, James." He supposed they were acquainted now, and the younger did not appear to want to speak much. This was fine with Grian, as long as he was not bothered. So, their unspoken connection continued.
Several more times, James came and watched. Almost every time that Grian's flat was open.
The wise artist noted a sense of longing in the adolescent; the feeling of someone who wanted to belong. So, Grian attempted to make him comfortable. Twice, James ate all of the food in his house.
Conversations were short and punctuated with simple questions from either party, staying away from the obvious that James seemed to be running from.
Once, the teen stumbled into Grian's flat, wounded. Broken bones which Grian splinted without much fuss from the other, cuts which Grian cleaned and dressed. Still, no questions were asked, though understanding passed through both of them at that moment, and Grian silently (and briefly) pulled the boy close and hugged him.
Back to painting.
James was given a platter of party foods--whatever Grian could afford to keep in the flat--and he ate them and watched the artist work, even with the blood.
Although Grian remembered that question fairly well.
"Yes. It is believed to be raw spirit and I think that raw spirit might help me to show humanity in all of its faults and promises."
James wasn't one much for abstract thinking, Grian could tell, so he did not bring it up again when the teen simply nodded in response.
The door wasn't open one day, and muffled mumbles were heard through the back door although the front was opened. James didn't understand what was happening and burst in just as someone clearly unstable finished killing Grian. In turn, he snapped and attacked them. They put up quite a fight, but were knocked unconscious easily and quickly.
Instead, James' attention turned to the artist, who was brought back in all of his unearthly wailing and flailing.
Grian first woke in surprise to James, and then it turned to horror as he saw his client on the floor, unconscious and hopefully not dead. Needless to say, when the client finally woke, Grian was never paid and never hired again. But that didn't matter, because he explained everything to James.
Much later, James was in the flat and Grian was painting again when suddenly a pair of burglars burst through the door. Without warning, James was upon them, viciously attacking. Single-handedly, he fought them back and they left.
Again, Grian explained that things like that were normal.
Very briefly, he thought that James would hit him as well.
James sometimes spoke of the military, but Grian never thought he would join.
Until he appeared in uniform one day at Grian's door.
The two exchanged smiles and a handshake.
"I wish you good luck. Make me proud."
James was an adult now.
Grian hoped he helped as much as he could.
Maybe he made a small impact in the life of the young man who entered his flat one spring afternoon and started watching him paint.
