Back Pain
@propika managed to convince me to write more things, so I wrote something for our well-loved polytinue mafia AU ft. young teen Ian warning for violence, guns, mild talk of homophobia, mild talk of abuse
Fuck this.
Ian had learned patience being on the streets, but God, today was just unbearable. Constantly waiting out for the right time to swipe from a place was something of an art form for him at this point. He’d stake out the place, watch each worker and learn their movement patterns, see which ones are more involved with their phones or engaging with other shoppers, and look for windows of opportunity to walk in, snag what he needs, and walk back out. Fortunately, in the big city, there’s all sorts of little shops that have weak security and even weaker chances of being chased after if anyone suspects him of theft. It was tough, at first, especially when he was inexperienced in thievery, but having done it for nearly a year now, it’s become much easier – and with that ease, he learned that some days would take much longer for windows to open than others.
Today, though, he was getting particularly tired of waiting. His favorite little place to steal from was a mini-mart type building, and they carried a lot of the things Ian usually needed really bad – food, socks, medicine, water bottles, those sorts of things. Usually, he’d be in and out of this place within minutes, carrying whatever it is that he needed in the pockets of his dirty, tattered, black-and-yellow jacket, but today, God just wasn’t having it be easy. There were only two people working in there – a cashier who couldn’t be a day under 40, and a stock boy who looks like he couldn’t care less about anything happening around him and just wants to go home – but there were two other people in there that just didn’t seem like they’d ever leave.
The two men, from where Ian was standing outside the shop, had their backs to him, talking to the cashier for a long time about who knows what. They both seemed to be dressed nicely – suits and ties for a market run seemed a bit weird to Ian, but what did he know – he’s just a kid.
“God,” Ian thought to himself, impatiently picking at the hem of his jacket, “what the hell could these guys be trying to buy in there that’s taking 10 minutes to deal with? It’s like 5 o’clock – I just want my aspirin already.”
When 10 minutes became 15, Ian decided to just go ahead and use this exchange as a cover while he does his thing. As he walks in, nobody even looks back to see him enter. As he walks towards the aisle of medicine, one of them – the tall ginger one – walked away from the counter and for the door, leaving his partner with the cashier. Ian and the other man briefly locked eyes, but it was over almost as soon as it was initiated, and the man walked out of the shop. Ian didn’t hesitate as he scanned the aisle looking for the medicine box with the large A-word that he never did learn how to pronounce, finding it and plucking it off the shelf.
“Maybe now I can sleep and not have to deal with stupid back pain.”
He swiped another box, feeling brave and desperate for some pain relief, stuffed the two into his pocket, and made his way for the exit, looking as calm and collected as he could muster. The second he was out the door, however, he was stopped by a large hand pressing into the front of his jacket. For split second, Ian panicked, worrying it might be another cop to deal with, but he quickly recognized the intricately-patterned tie in front of him. Looking up, his eyes connected, once again, with the tall ginger man from before, whose steely gaze wasn’t exactly one of anger or anything like that. It was more a look of… confusion, maybe intrigue.
Before either of them can say anything, he hears the door of the shop open, followed by another voice from behind him.
“So, looks like we gotta get–” the owner of the voice cuts themselves off before they can finish, pausing before they continue. “Josh? What’s going on?”
The man in front of him, who he now knows goes by Josh, looks up at who Ian assumes is his other sharp-dressed friend and says “Think we got an answer to the question of ‘who’s been raiding out front shop?’ finally.”
“Front shop?” Ian thought as he scanned his thoughts for any possible definition for that term.
“Oh? Wait, you mean the kid?”
“That’s what I’m saying, yeah.”
The other man finally walked around so that Ian could finally see his face. His appearance, while still mildly threatening given the situation, gave off the impression that he was more approachable than his taller counterpart, his eyes scanning Ian’s form with a sort of perplexity and softness that wasn’t really present in the other man – Josh’s – eyes.
“Listen, kid,” the shorter man spoke, his voice level, “what are you stealing from this spot for?”
Before Ian could even speak, Josh stuck his still-outstretched hand into Ian’s jacket pocket.
“H-hey! What the hell!” Ian’s protests fell on deaf ears as Josh produced the two boxes he’d stashed away.
“Acetaminophen,” Josh read the label aloud as Ian mentally tried to take note of how he said it for later use. “What, hoping to get a high from this stuff?”
Ian furrowed his brows in annoyance as he replied with a sharp “No.”
The other man spoke up again, this time directed at his partner. “Josh, we talked about this. Now we know it’s a kid, so that probably means I was right about this whole damn thing, doesn’t it?” When Josh frowned at his question, he looked back at Ian and asked, “Where’s your parents, kid?”
Ian glared at them both, really not in the mood to answer that question, but he huffed and said “Not here, that’s for sure.”
Josh looked annoyed by that, which Ian mentally tacked on as a small victory for himself, but the other man looked like Ian said the exact answer he had been expecting.
“Josh, you know what we gotta do now, yeah?”
“Nick, this isn’t something to bother him about – it was just a kid –”
“Oh, it’s not?” the man Ian finally knew was called Nick retorted. “Because I’m pretty sure he’s the one who wanted us to come down here and keep tabs on this whole issue in the first place. I think he’s gonna want a follow-up on this. This kid’s been looting the store for weeks, months now! He told us to bring back results, so let’s bring him back some results, yeah?”
Josh looked back at Ian, who was getting all the more nervous as the two of them spoke, and after a few moments of silent debilitation, finally sighed and said “Yeah, fine, get him in the car, then.”
“Woah, wait, hold on,” Ian spoke out in a panic as the two began walking him down the street, “what the hell are you guys talking about?!”
Josh looked down at him as Ian tore himself out of their grasps and stepped back. “Kid, listen to me, you’re going to want to come with us, or else all this is going to get even more complicated for all of us. You’ve been looting a front shop for weeks now – you think that was just gonna slide by?”
“I don’t even know what the fuck that is!” Ian shouted back at him.
Josh and Nick looked genuinely surprised by that comment, turning to look at each other in bewilderment. Most everyone in the city knew where their sphere of influence reached and knew not to fuck with their territories, but if this kid didn’t even understand the concept of a “front shop”, then that probably meant he wasn’t from the city.
“Kid, what’s your name?” Nick slowly asked him.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Look, we’re trying to be nice about this – I’m trying to help you out here,” Nick explained. “That store you’ve been stealing from? And several of the other ones you’ve been looting? They’re all fronts for us, for the Father.”
“The… the what? You guys are with some religious cult thing or something?”
Josh pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers in frustration. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he muttered to himself.
“No, kid,” Nick spoke up again, “I’m talking about the mafia.”
Ian felt his entire body freeze, his mind racing, “I stole from the fucking mafia are you serious what the FUCK?”
Nick and Josh saw his very-obvious panic. “Now do you understand?” Nick asked him. “Look, because you’re a kid and clearly not from the city, I’m almost certain you aren’t gonna be in a huge load of trouble for this.”
“Like hell, he’s not!” Josh snapped.
“Joshua? Not. Now,” Nick spoke back sternly, his voice dripping with an authority Ian didn’t expect from the shorter man. “You know how Paul is. He’s not gonna waste his resources on a situation like this. More trouble than it’s worth. Now calm down and let me deal with this.”
Josh huffed in annoyance, but he didn’t speak up again.
Nick turned back to Ian, smiling a little. “Seriously, kid – the Father ain’t gonna hurt you over this because you’re a pretty rare circumstance, one he probably isn’t gonna have to deal with again after this.”
“Why do you say that?” Ian asked him, still hesitant.
Nick was grinning now as he answered, “Because Josh and I know that son of a bitch better than anyone else.”
Ian was quiet as he assessed the situation and thought of his options. He could make a quick 180 and run like hell, but he knew that wasn’t gonna get him very far. Neither would fighting the two off – they were two fully-grown men, probably had weapons or combat training or whatever else mafia people have at their disposal. A scrawny, malnourished teen wasn’t gonna be able to put up much of a fight, especially in this circumstance. Ian exhausted all possible avenues of alternative options before he realized his best bet was to just go with them and hope for the best.
“Well,” Ian thought to himself as he slid himself into the backseat of the nice, black Mercedes, “at least if I die, I don’t have to worry about that back pain anymore.”
----------------
The tall, mirrored building in the center of town was something he always looked at in the distance, idly wondering what kind of company did work in there, what kind of fancy offices must be set up inside. He wasn’t expecting the goddamn mafia to be the ones to own the building, but Ian realized his life was just fucked up enough at this point that he really couldn’t bring himself to be surprised anymore. He stared out the window, barely listening to the two men up front as they talked about things Ian didn’t quite get. He did look away from the window briefly to the two of them when he heard Nick let out a loud laugh and watched Josh stick his tongue out at the driver like an annoyed child.
“These guys are part of the mafia? Really?” Ian thought to himself as he turned his attention back to the city streets passing them by.
They finally arrived at the tall building, pulling into a private garage filled with a lot of other expensive-looking cars like the one they were currently seated in. Josh and Nick exited the car, opening the door for Ian to also get out. The three of them walked inside, Ian sandwiched between the other two men as they strode into the lobby of the building. The place was filled with professional-looking people, this floor clearly being a reputable business of some sort, based on the way the people were dressed and the fancy décor all around them. Ian couldn’t help but feel a twinge of shame creeping up his neck as people turned and looked at the three of them passing by. He could feel their gazes boring into him and his ratty, unclean appearance. He hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since before coming into the city, and that was not a feeling he wanted to remember.
Eventually, they made their way into a large elevator, Josh pulling out a weird-looking key and sticking it into the button panel of the elevator as the doors closed. Rather than a number, the display read out “Pent” in digitized lettering as they began their ascent, soft jazz playing through the speakers. Josh noticed Ian fidgeting nervously and put a heavy hand on his back. Startled out of his train of thought, Ian looked over at him, though Josh had his gaze fixed at the display monitor ahead of them.
“Calm down, kid,” Josh told him. “Going in there all twitchy and nervous is only gonna look shifty. Just relax – you’re probably not gonna get chewed out or anything.”
Ian took some deep breaths, calming himself down as he briefly thought about how that was the first show of compassion he’d seen out of Josh, as small as it was.
By the time the elevator opened again, Ian had managed to calm himself enough that he was no longer shaking. The three of them stepped off the elevator and walked down the long hallway until they reached a large set of double doors in the back, guarded by two other large men in suits. Upon seeing the trio approaching the door, the two guards stepped aside and out of the way of the doors. Josh gave a nod to both of them as Nick knocked on the door in a peculiar rhythm.
“Paul, it’s Nick,” he announced loudly, probably so whoever was on the other side could hear him. “We got the answer we were looking for, and he’s here to talk to you.”
“Come in, then,” a voice on the other side called out.
Josh and Nick opened the doors, allowing Ian to see inside the new room. It was a large office space, with glossy leather couches and art pieces lining the walls. The room felt like it extended unbelievably far back as Ian walked in, Josh and Nick at his heels, their dress shoes clacking loudly against the sleek, dark grey-tiled floor. Near the back of the room, a large black desk and plush velvet chair rested on a large expanse of carpet. Finally, at the back of the room, a man stood with his back to the three of them, looking out at the city awash in a soft orange hue during golden hour. The back wall was completely glass, allowing the room to be cast with that same orange glow, which bounced interestingly off the appearance of the new figure as he turned to finally face them.
“Thank you, boys,” the man said, his voice smooth and carrying an air of something akin to pride as he flashed the other two men a smile. “Go on, take a breather. You two’ve been running all over the city today – you deserve a break.”
The two complied, seating themselves on a couch near the desk. Ian was left standing in front of the desk, alone, as the third man calmly strode over to stand on the other side of the desk. He stared at Ian, his eyes scanning him over once, twice, a third time, before finally speaking up again.
“So,” he began, voice still smooth and unperturbed, “you’re the one who’s been causing all this trouble?”
“I… guess so?” Ian managed to say, not really sure how to go about talking to this guy. He’s the head of the mafia – he never exactly learned how to communicate with someone like that before.
The man only chuckled, seemingly amused by Ian’s confusion and hesitance. He stuck a hand out to Ian over the desk, flashing him another sly smile. “Paul Ritchey, and you are?”
Ian took the hand offered to him and shook it, but he said nothing in reply.
“Look, I’m honestly not too terribly upset over this now,” Paul began explaining to Ian. “I’m just glad seeing it’s not some other syndicate digging their snotnoses into our business. This, I can happily deal with rationally.”
Ian was quiet for another moment before finally speaking up. “Ian.”
“There we are!” Paul clapped his hands together before taking a seat in his large chair, gesturing for Ian to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, which he does. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Well, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s cut to the chase, Ian – what were you doing stealing from one of our shops so frequently?”
“Hey, it’s not like I knew it was a thing run by the friggin mafia, alright?” Ian quickly defended himself.
That got Paul curious. “Is that right? Then you’re not from the city, are you, Ian?”
“Not really,” Ian admitted. “I’ve only been here for, like, a year-ish.”
“And your family? They didn’t know?”
Ian was getting sick of all this family talk already, but he knew this would go a lot quicker if he just explained his situation. “They don’t know I’m here,” he explained.
“Ah, a runaway, then,” Paul concluded, his face visibly sobering as his mouth quirked down into a frown. “I had assumed based on your appearance that you probably weren’t being cared for properly. How old are you, Ian?”
“13, 14 in about a month.”
Paul frowned a bit more at that, continuing his line of questioning. “How did you get here?”
“Took a bus. Stayed on it until I was as far from my town as possible.”
“And why is it that you ran away?”
Ian grimaced, but pressed forward so he could get this all over with. “My parents found out I like guys and they weren’t exactly thrilled about it. They got mad at me, blaming me for making a shitty choice in life. They would yell a lot, sometimes they’d hit me if I tried defending myself, and –”
Ian was interrupted by a soft hiccup escaping his throat, and it was only then that he realized a few tears had escaped his eyes. Not wanting to dwell in this memory or these emotions much longer, he quickly rubbed at his face with a jacket sleeve and picked up where he left off.
“… and I didn’t want to live like that anymore, so I ran away. That’s my story.”
Ian had stopped looking at Paul before he began speaking, so he had no idea what his expression looked like, but when he received no response, he looked back up and Paul and was taken aback. The whole time Ian had been here, Paul had been incredibly expressive, smiling wide or frowning deep, but now? His hands were folded under his chin, propping up his now expressionless face. He looked like a blank slate, an unreadable look plastered on his face as his eyes bore into Ian. It made Ian squirm, being stared at like that, but he could kind of tell it wasn’t a stare of judgement; it was more of a stare of contemplation, of intense thought and debilitation.
A heavy knock on the door made Ian jump, though Paul was unfazed.
“Ritchey! We gotta talk!” a gravelly voice bellowed out from behind the double doors.
“I’m busy at the moment – please return later,” Paul loudly replied, his voice carrying no intonation of any emotion, his posture never changing.
Ian looked over at Josh and Nick, still seated on the couch nearby. They looked perplexedly at the doors as another set of heavy knocks bellowed through the room.
“Ritchey! This ain’t waiting!” the voice shouted, louder this time.
“Yes, it is,” Paul responded, his voice colder this time, still not even moving an inch.
Ian was starting to become panicked again – he did not want to be here if shit was gonna go down. He didn’t want to die in the middle of a big mafia shootout when this was supposed to be an easy off-the-hook deal. He looked back at Paul, who was still just staring at his thoughtfully, hands still folded beneath his chin in contemplation.
Finally, Ian heard the double doors burst open behind him, and before anyone else could react, Paul finally moved for what felt like the first time in ages. One hand remained under his chin, exactly as it was, while the other glided with amazing speed under the desk, retrieved something, and reemerged above the desk. Ian barely registered that it was a gun before a loud BANG! rang out through the room, Paul having fired behind Ian at whoever had just barged in. Paul’s posture had hardly changed; he still looked as calm as ever, one hand under his chin, his head slightly tilted in thought, but his other hand was now stretched outward, pointing the golden revolver in hand behind Ian. To think a man could look so casual as he quickly shot down an intruder sent shivers up Ian’s spine.
Ian slowly turned to look behind him, and the man who had barged in now lay dead by the door, a single bullet hole in his throat now pouring dark pools of blood on the tiled floor. Ian looked the other way to see Josh and Nick on their feet, guns drawn, making their way towards the door.
“That was awfully rude,” Paul commented, bringing Ian’s attention back to Paul. Clicking the safety of his gun back on and placing it on the table, Paul finally let another small smile cross his face as he said “I don’t tolerate rudeness – never have.”
Ian was still absolutely stricken with shock and anxiety over what just happened. The whole exchange between the doors opening and Paul’s comment was maybe 30 seconds, but to Ian, it felt like he’d just outlived a war.
It must have been very visible on his face, because Paul quickly reached a hand out and patted one of Ian’s.
“Now, now, don’t worry yourself, Ian,” Paul comforted him. “I do apologize for startling you like that. I hate having to do things like that in my personal office – feels so unprofessional, especially with a guest present. Josh and Nick are gonna go sort this out and see what all this commotion was about, okay? I promise you, you have nothing to fear in here, alright?”
Despite every nerve in Ian’s body screaming at him to run, get out, it’s not safe, you’re in danger, something in the way Paul spoke to him made him feel… oddly safe, safer than he’d felt in a long time. He didn’t want to just abandon that feeling, not yet – so Ian stayed seated, still shaking slightly. Not wanting to look Paul in the eyes quite yet, his gaze traveled over to the revolver now resting on the dark-stained wood desk. Paul followed his gaze and his smile grew a bit.
“Beautiful little thing, isn’t it?” Paul asked, taking his hand away from Ian’s and tracing the elaborate patterns on the handle with a finger. “This baby was custom-made – a little anniversary gift from the boys. Handle’s mahogany, with all these neat little decorative swirls and twirls on it, and that’s real gold up here on the barrel and chamber!” He picked the gun up, flipped it around so he was holding the handle out towards Ian, and pointed at a small engraved heart with three small stones arranged inside the heart. “They even got a little heart carved up here near the barrel – and see the little stones in the middle of the heart? Purple one’s amethyst – that’s my birthstone. The other two are garnet and diamond – garnet’s Nicky’s birthstone and diamond is Joshy’s. Ain’t that cute?”
“Wait,” Ian spoke up finally, “you said it was an anniversary present?”
Paul nodded. “That’s right. I’ve been with Josh and Nick for, oh… 4? 4 years, I believe. Ah, it’s been a real nice 4 years, lemme tell you, Ian. Those two are real sweethearts. Best boyfriends a guy could ask for, really.”
Ian stared, dumbfounded, as Paul rambled on about his relationship with Josh and Nick. When he was told he’d be meeting the leader of the mafia, he didn’t expect him to be so friendly, let alone, well… passionately gay. It made him feel… strangely comfortable, knowing he was among people who knew how he felt and related to him in a way nobody else had in his life thus far. It made him happy, in a way that he didn’t expect.
Paul let out a happy sigh, seemingly content with all the walking down memory lane he had just done. He looked at Ian, who was actually smiling for the first time since he’d walk into Paul’s office, and smiled back in return. “Y’see, Ian? You and I are more alike than you thought we’d be, aren’t we?”
“I… guess so,” Ian said, chuckling nervously.
Paul’s smile became a bit sad as he continued, “That’s why your story particularly got to me a bit. Before my old man kicked it, I’m almost positive he wouldn’t have been too thrilled that his only heir to the empire had a thing for other men. Gay people, he’s fine with, but his only son? Nah, I doubt that would’ve flown over too well.”
“He… he never found out?”
“Oh, hell no – I kept that shit on lockdown until I knew it’d be good. Once I became head honcho, I knew that I had a safe spot. Anybody that had a problem with their new boss being gay got the boot – and for the, well, rowdier naysayers, the bullet.”
Paul delivered the last comment with a little wink and finger gun, which got Ian to laugh a little. The more they talked, the more Ian found himself to be surprisingly comfortable in Paul’s presence. Paul brought his hands together on the desk in front of him and interlocked his fingers, twiddling his thumbs.
“Let me be perfectly honest with you, Ian,” Paul began, his voice much softer, “you seem like a good kid, you really do. You seem smart, especially to be fending for yourself like this in a city you don’t know and managing to not kick the bucket. Kid like you should be in school, should be playing with friends, hell, should be bathing regularly. And you seem to have gotten yourself pretty comfortable in this place, which most normal kids would most certainly not do. So. let me make you an offer.”
The prospect of an offer caught Ian’s interest, head perking up and body sitting straighter. “What kind of offer?”
Paul chuckled at Ian’s sudden attention. “Let me take care of you.”
There was a long period of silence after Paul dropped that far-too-casual offer on Ian. Ian felt his heart stop, his mind completely thrown off and flummoxed. “Wh… what?”
“Let me become your guardian, or whatever that term would be,” Paul stated, calm as ever, a small glint of something showing in his eyes as he continued. “Well, really, I suppose it’d be me and Josh and Nick, seeing as how we’re a package deal, but you get the idea.”
“Y-yeah, yeah, I get… I get that, but, like… what?”
Paul full-on laughed at that reply. “I mean it, Ian. I may run a crime syndicate, but it’s not like I’m completely evil or anything, yeah? I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for kids, to tell you the truth, and especially one who I feel like I can connect to so easily. I do my best to look out for the little guys of this city, since the law’s too shitty to ever do anything useful around here. Anyone who’s good and can be of use is always welcome under the mafia wing, and that definitely applies to you, my little friend.”
“In what way am I ‘useful’ to you?” Ian asked, genuinely confused by that remark.
“Well, a few ways, really. Putting you in school, where you should be, and getting you educated and thinking is gonna help the whole world in a small way. Better to have another educated man out on the streets as opposed to some knuckle-headed idiot who can’t do anything except spew nonsense and maybe change a tire on a good day.”
Paul smiled when Ian laughed at his joke, and he continued on. “Second, should things work out well and you find yourself welcome to the thought, this empire ain’t gonna run under my control forever, and I’ll need a successor someday. Josh and Nick and I never anticipated having any kids, so we just figured we’d have to screen all possible contenders while the three of us are relaxing on our death bed, and that sounds like a shit time. But then again, if you decide you don’t want to get involved with this life, that’s perfectly understandable, and you’ll live your happy little life away from all the crime and flash of the mafia lifestyle. You always get that guaranteed protection, though, being in my line of kin, so hey – fun perks!”
Paul looks up mid-speech as two sets of clacking shoes enter the room, and he beams another one of those flashy smiles. “There you two are! What’d you find out?”
Josh and Nick approached the desk as Paul stood up and circled around to stand next to it. “Just some shithead who felt he got cheaped out of the last deal,” Josh explained. “Guess he wanted more than the cut gave him, wanted to talk to you directly and bitch about it to your face.”
“Well, guess he has nothing to feel cheated out of now, then, does he?” Paul teased, giggling as he placed a peck on Josh and Nick’s cheeks. “Thank you, boys, for taking care of that mess. It really was just so rude of him to interrupt us while we’re in the middle of something.”
“Pauly, we do this kinda shit, like, every day,” Nick smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know what the hell else we’d do if assholes didn’t just barge in here left and right.”
“Nick, you know damn well what we’d all be doing with more free time,” Josh said, a teasing glint in his eye as he smirked.
Ian watched from his seat as the three of them laughed about the joke Josh had made. Something felt oddly domestic and homely about the way they interacted with one another, almost as if a man hadn’t just gotten shot in this very room, by one of these very men standing here.
Nick glanced over at Ian, a small hum leaving him as he realized there was still something they hadn’t taken care of yet. “Paul, did we sort the kid out, yet?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, that’s right – Ian, what do you say to my offer?”
Josh looked at Paul warily. “Wait, what offer did you give him?”
“Why are you looking at me like you don’t trust my judgement?”
“Well, what did you offer him?”
“I offered to take him in as my own kid.”
Josh and Nick stared at Paul, expressionless, but the bafflement they felt inside was still prevalent in their eyes.
“You… of course you did,” Josh said, pinching the bridge of his nose again, but he was smiling this time. “God, you’ve got such a fuckin soft spot for kids, Pauly.”
Paul huffed indignantly at that, pouting like a child himself. “Hey, at least I give a damn! This kid got unfairly shafted, and as long as he’s in my city, I’m gonna look out for him!”
Nick giggled at Paul’s moody nature and added “And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you want a kid real bad?”
Watching the three of them interact in this moment, Ian realized just how absurd this whole situation was. It was so blatantly abnormal and very obvious not a safe environment for many reasons, but… Ian felt compelled to see more moments like this. Kind, welcoming moments, moments with Paul getting indignant and whiny while his boyfriends taunt and tease him lovingly, moments where Paul tells him stories like the one about the golden revolver. It was so very not a family environment, but maybe that’s what Ian needs after all – a safe place that’s so far separated from what a normal family is that he doesn’t have to feel afraid of family anymore, a place where he can redefine what a “family” is.
The three men looked back at Ian, and Paul walked over, kneeling down next to the chair Ian sat in. Smiling, Paul asks again “Well, Ian? What do you think, kid?”
Ian looks over at Josh and Nick, who look exhausted but smile welcomingly regardless. He looks over at the desk, where the golden gun glints in the setting sunlight, the three gemstones twinkling within the engraved heart. He looks at Paul, whose face looks friendly, cordial, his eyes glimmering with unseen hope. Ian looks at him, and he smiles, genuinely smiles for the first time in a long time.
“I am pretty sick of all the back pain from sleeping in an alley… I guess I’ll take you up on this offer.”
