BOBBY PLATT FANFICTION
This is my first time ever publishing a fanfic so be noice if it's not the greatest or if there are any mistakes/typos >.< I'm uploading this for @thejuliaisinthehouse
Plot: What if instead of Mr Summers Bobby had met a girl instead, and instead of the work being burying dead animals, it was feeding strays instead?
Word count: 2,079
Note: This is written in the first person POV because that's how the original novel is written (if that makes sense)
Chapter 1: The young man
I decided to walk home from work since I'd eaten too much at breakfast, and my stomach began to hurt. I carried a half eaten ham and cheese sandwich, one of the two I had for lunch. I figured I was going to put it in the fridge and eat it for dinner, when I spotted a skinny little mutt. It had short white and orange fur, and beady brown eyes whose hopeful gaze met mine. I noticed I could see its ribs even from a distance. So I walked over and crouched to give it my leftover sandwich. I got up and pocketed the sandwich paper, since I couldn't see any garbage bins around.
As I walked on the side of the road, I heard footsteps trailing behind me. I stopped to see if the footsteps would too, and sure enough, it did. I continued walking and so did who was following me. I wondered if it was the dog, and if I won its affection by giving it my sandwich. I don't really know what I'd do if it were the little mutt. I'm not very good at taking care of pets, and I'd feel bad if I had to shoo it away. I finally decided to turn around, and to my surprise it wasn't the stray but a young man.
He seemed startled, as if he were surprised that I noticed he was following me. He picked at his bottom lip in a skittish manner.
He didn't seem like a creep. Not that I think I'm pretty enough to be creeped on anyway. He kept still, looking at the ground. “Can I help you?” I asked curtly.
“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” He said with a gentle voice that made me repent of my unkindness towards him. He had a soft face with handsome features that moved to make a sort of childlike expression.
“I just saw what you did, and I thought it was really nice.”
“What?” I had an idea of what he meant but I still said 'what' just in case I was wrong.
“Giving that dog your sandwich.” Ever since I've been living in Cornwall, I've fed strays whenever I could. However, this is the first time anyone has approached me, let alone praised me about it. I've always thought of myself as invisible, and that nothing I did mattered to anyone.
"Oh, well it looked like it needed it more than me.” The young man gave me an open-mouthed smile, which led me to assume he was going to say something. But he didn't. He just gave me a nod while looking at the ground. I took it as a sign that our interaction was at its end. So I gave him a smile and nod in return, and went on my way.
I thought of that young man my entire walk home. He was quite cute, really. But I crossed out all possibilities of him being interested in me. I find myself so repulsive that it's an otherworldly thought to think that any man would find me attractive. I thought of how awkward our little conversation was, and if he was making fun of me. Not that he seemed like the type to do that. In fact, there was something innocent and pure about him. But I always have this suspicion that everyone is secretly making fun of me. It's a bit of a narcissistic thought, really. That I'd be important enough to be spoken of, when everyone's busy with their own lives. But I worry about it anyway. I feel so ashamed just existing. I always feel like I'm taking up so much space, and that I make everyone uncomfortable with my presence. I try my best to disappear in every room I enter. I pretend like I'm not with all those people, and it makes me feel like I'm just floating. Free to exist, away from everyone's expectations and opinions of me.
I finally reached the front door of my flat. It was a very shabby one, the paint of its walls were chipped, the metals were rusting, and most of the window shades were falling apart. You also had to be careful about where you rested your hand, or you might lift it and see some unexplainable goo on your fingertips. But it was cheap, and relatively near my university. My room was on the third floor, at the end of the hallway. I had cleaned and renovated it to the best of my abilities, and I somewhat turned it into a cozy little haven. One that I'm excited to come home to after each tiring day.
I went inside and took off and hung my shoes on the shoe rack. I immediately plopped myself on the couch, and let out a deep breath. Sometimes I'm tired just doing nothing. I'm tired of the awareness that I'm wasting my day, worrying instead of doing what I'm supposed to. Well at least I've gotten over my anxiety of being around other students. I used to feel nauseous around them, like there was something pressing on my stomach which made it hard for me to breathe. I mean, I should be used to it, it's been years. Now I just feel bored of them. I think the best way to describe it would be like being around grey blobs. I'm almost graduating anyway. Which means I won't have to be around them anymore, unless we work at the same place after university. But it also means having to get used to new people.
I don't really know why I'm so afraid, they're just human beings like me. But for some reason I feel so far away from them. I've never really connected with others. I've never felt like a girl. I've always felt like a creature pretending to be one amongst them. And I certainly don't feel like a boy, and I'm thankful I don't. I wasn't always this bad at socializing though, but I've only gotten worse the older I become. But it's for the best, I prefer being alone anyway. I have more time to do whatever I want without anyone bothering me. Although sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to about my day. I think the brain gets overloaded if you never talk about what's in it.
***
The next day on my way to work, I saw the young man again on the other side of the road. It was the same one where we had first met. I felt relieved for some reason, that I got to see him again. But this time, he wasn't alone. He was talking to a man in his mid thirties, who had a woman next to him, giggling nonstop. I still had a few minutes more before my call time, and curiosity had gotten the best of me, so I decided to observe what was going on.
The man stood in front of him with his mouth open as he gave him a lecture. “How would you like to be all squashed up like that and killed when you weren't hurting anyone? it's not fair.” The woman started giggling harder after she heard what the young man said. But unlike the woman, the man didn't find it funny, and his face started turning red.
To my surprise, he lunged at the young man and hit him on the face. The young man fell to the ground and started crying out loud. It resembled the cry of a child, and my heart broke just listening to it. The man took him by his collar and I knew he was going for another punch. I gasped and yelled out “Hey, stop that!” in my panic. I didn't know what I was doing. I knew I should be afraid, because if that man could hurt that young man effortlessly, he most certainly could do worse to me.
But somehow it didn't matter at that moment. I ran over to the young man as fast as I could, and I helped him get up. I only started to feel afraid once I realized how close I was to the violent man. The lady next to him was still giggling, and it began to irritate me terribly, and I wished I could smack her as well. I held the young man by his arms with my shaking hands.
“Who are you?” The man asked me. He had a terrible, deep voice that rumbled in my ears. I knew I was supposed to say something to him, to give him a piece of my mind, and put him in his place. But I couldn't even bring myself to look at him. And I felt I was going to go crazy by the sound of the woman's giggles. The young man was still sobbing, and I felt the best thing to do was to get us away from them.
I dragged him towards the other direction, which averted our gaze completely off the pair. The woman's unbearable giggling had stopped, and as we walked away, I heard the man yell “Hey, where are you going?” My eyes widened, and I felt my head throb in fear. I walked faster, so the young man would follow my pace. I kept repeating “Just get away from him.” over and over again in my head without looking back.
I thought the violent man would chase after us, but thankfully he didn't. When we got to a safe distance away from them, I finally stopped and looked at the young man. He was still crying, and I could understand why. The man had really done a number on his face, and I could already see the big bruise forming on his cheekbone.
“Hey, hey, it's okay. He can't hurt you anymore. See?”
I tapped his arm gently and urged him to look at the road behind us. He sniffled and looked around for any signs of the man, when he realized there was none, he tried to gain composure and stop his crying. “It hurts.” he whined out, and his face contorted to the most pitiable expression. I felt like a moron for not realizing that we had to put an ice pack on his face sooner.
Thankfully, I knew of a supermarket nearby, and had some money with me, so I was able to buy him one quickly. He thanked me after I gave it to him, and I told him it was no problem. Thinking my job here was done, I told him “I guess I'll get going now.” But then he started walking with me.
“Wait—"
“Hm?”
“Where are you going?”
“To work, I'm already very late.”
“C-could I come with you? I promise I won't be a bother.”
“No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid you have to go home now.” I reached into my pocket to give him some money. “Here, get a cab.” He moved his hand away from mine, and he shook his head.
“But I can't go home.”
“Why not?"
“I haven't got a home.”
“You're homeless?”
“Well—yes, I… you see I've run away…”
“From what? Don't tell me the police are involved—”
“No! No… of course not.”
“Well then what? Because I can't just take you with me. I don't even know you.”
“Oh please! I swear I'll be good.”
“No, I'm sorry—”
“But I don't have anywhere to go!”
He began to cry and tears streamed down his cheeks as he fell to the ground. He clutched the ice pack so hard I thought he'd make a hole in it. He was much taller than me, but at that moment he seemed so small, and I knew I couldn't just leave him out here.
“Get up, get up.”
He sniffled as I grabbed his shoulders to help him up.
“Stop crying now. I guess you can come with me.” His face lit up as soon as he heard the word “can”, and the pout on his face was replaced by a big grin.
“But promise me you won't cause any trouble. I'm already very late, and I don't want to add on to my earful.”
“Of course—I told you I wouldn't be a bother.” he said excitedly, wiping the tears off his face.
“Since you're coming with me, do you mind telling me your name?”
He gave me an amused huff and said his name was Bobby.