Sometimes Andrew spies on Peter, the new male nurse that comes to take care of his mother three days a week because that's all their insurance can afford or so his dad says, and most of the time Peter pretends not to notice. Peter even sometimes comments on Andrew's staring, which the kid swears he's just looking after his mother, but he knows better.
That's not to say Peter minds the attention, however.
Andrew is a quiet and timid soul, much like Peter when he was his age, and there's a subtle hint of melancholy to him. It's not just because the boy's mother has cancer either. He's pale and he has dark circles under his eyes and Peter doesn't always think it's from lack of sleep. Peter is well aware of the different types of bruises, especially when it comes to black eyes, and he takes note of the plethora of beer cans and bottles lying around the house.
Peter's smart enough to notice the early signs of abuse and he wonders how long it's been going on. He's only met the father a handful of times and every time he reeked of alcohol. There are times when Peter wants to speak up and say something to him, anything that would help Andrew, but he knows it's none of his business. Besides, it would probably only get the kid in more trouble anyway. So Peter keeps his mouth shut and does his job.
It's not until a few weeks later when Peter overhears Andrew talking to his father in a mostly one-sided argument that he gets the urge to actively seek out companionship within Andrew. He's attending to Karen, Andrew's mother, when he hears the first blow against Andrew followed by a thudding noise that resembles a sack of potatoes dropping. Peter tries to focus on switching Karen's iv when he hears another shout that is quickly deafened by the front door slamming shut.
For a few tense moments Peter stands with his ear against the door, listening for any sounds when he catches the faint shuffling of feet and a muffled sob. Peter opens up the door just in time to see Andrew's retreating form disappearing into his room. He quietly pads in after him to find the boy hunched over on his messy bed, clutching at his ribcage.
Peter clears his throat gently to get Andrew's attention.
"I took the liberty of replacing Karen's bedding and she has a fresh iv too. She's resting right now," Peter tells him softly, making sure to be gentle with his words. An act that Andrew seems to thoroughly appreciate. "Just thought I'd let you know before I took off."
"Thank you," Andrew sniffles as his voice cracks.
"Listen, if you want I can stick around for a while. Keep you company," Peter suggests.
"What for?" Andrew inquires with attitude, looking up at Peter from under his lashes.
"Well, for one I can take a look at your ribs and make sure they're not broken," Peter rebuttals, pointing out that he's aware of the abuse Andrew suffers firsthand.
"It's nothing I'm not used to," Andrew replies in a small voice, and Peter doesn't doubt that for a second. "I'm fine."
"I'm not just your mom's nurse, you know," Peter says, messing with the hem of his long sleeve undershirt. "I'm also a person you can talk to."
"What, are you a part time shrink too?" Andrew scoffs because he's too damn proud to admit defeat.
"Sometimes," Peter responds, ignoring the obvious defensive sass. "When I need to be."
Andrew doesn't have a snarky comment for that one and his shoulders slouch further as he contemplates the nurse's offer. It wasn't as if Andrew was averse to accepting a little help once in a while, but more of the fact that a complete stranger was aware of his abuse. Andrew knew it wasn't his fault, but he still felt ashamed because of it. The last thing he needs is pity, but Peter is so caring and understanding.
"I just want to help," Peter proclaims, taking a cautious step towards Andrew one after another until he's standing directly in front of him. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I just want to make sure you're okay."
Peter holds a hand out to Andrew, letting it hang there for a few long seconds. When Andrew doesn't take his hand right away, Peter frowns.
"Please?"
There's a hint of sadness behind Peter's hazel eyes that makes Andrew crumble under his expectant gaze. It makes him wonder why Peter would be so concerned about his well being, but the knowing stare he's met with says it all if Andrew looks hard enough. Andrew concedes and stands up on his own volition, politely declining Peter's help just yet.
Andrew grips the bottom hem of his shirt and rolls it up just enough to expose his abdomen and ribs. Peter takes a step closer, noticing that there's already a few bruises that are days old, including the one starting to form on his left side. Andrew's body language is reserved and self-conscious but he trusts Peter to not cast a judging eye.
"I'm going to apply mild pressure around your ribs," Peter explains, holding Andrew's icy, forlorn gaze. "Tell me if anything hurts, alright?"
Peter reaches out without protest from Andrew and lays his hands gently on the boy's exposed abdomen. Peter looks up at Andrew to gauge his reaction as he poises his thumbs directly above one of the old bruises. He applies light pressure and Andrew winces marginally, but makes no fuss from what Peter can tell.
The young nurse continues to do this with each individual rib, seeking out the protruding bones with deft, gentle fingers. It isn't until the freshest bruise when Andrew makes a vocal noise of disapproval. His face scrunches up and he hisses under his breath when Peter prods a little too incessantly.
"Hurts," is all Andrew can get out on a rush of pained breath.
"What about right here?" Peter inquires as he thumbs along the area where he isn't bruised.
Peter looks up from underneath his hair in question, waiting for Andrew to answer. Andrew face goes through a series of twitches until he finally resigns by shaking his head no. Peter gives one last little prod before letting his hands slip away from Andrew's body. Andrew lets go of his shirt and it sags back down over his bruised torso.
"Well, everything seems to be where it should," Peter announces with a somber smile. "You're lucky."
"Heh, if it means one less hospital visit, then yeah. I guess I'm lucky," Andrew scoffs mirthlessly.
Peter gives him a discouraged little frown and Andrew feels guilty for his attitude.
"You might want to put some ice on that," Peter informs, gesturing toward Andrew's torso awkwardly. "It'll keep the swelling down."
For a moment, Peter thinks about leaving and when he does turn around he's stopped by a tentative hand to his shoulder.
"Thank you, Peter. And not just for caring about me, but for helping my mom as well," Andrew thanks in a small, shy voice and he means it. "It's been really hard lately and all the help I can get right now is appreciated."
"Hey, don't even mention it. I'm just doing my job," Peter assures, trying to hide a bashful half smile.
"No, but you really care," Andrew presses, pressing in close to Peter. He reaches a hand out and rests it against Peter's pale blue scrub shirt. "I can tell."
"Really?" Peter ventures, swallowing thickly when Andrew gets a little too close.
"Yeah," Andrew murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down Peter's chest nervously. "You're really empathic. Passionate."
Peter has half a mind to let himself get seduced by Andrew, after all the boy is kind of cute and fragile and vulnerable, but even as Andrew runs his hand over his chest in appreciative longing strokes Peter can't take advantage of the young boy. Andrew may have a thing for him but Peter knows the boy is trying to cope by forgetting about his problems, if only for a moment.
He can't endorse this type of behavior. Even though he wants to help the boy in any and every way he can.
"Don't," Peter says, grabbing Andrew by the wrist to hold his hand and keep him from touching him further. "You don't have to do that, Andrew. Virtue is its own reward."
"But I want to thank you," Andrew insists, looking and feeling dejected even as he tries to pull away.
"You already did," Peter points out, shaking his head with good-natured frankness. Peter clasps Andrew thin hand in between his tenderly. "I'm just a nurse. You should be spending more time with your mother instead of doing something you'll regret later. Believe me, I'm not worth it."
Andrew's face turns bright pink and his ears burn in embarrassment the moment Peter makes it clear that he's rejecting him and it stings the last remaining shred of his pride. He doesn't even realize it when he starts to cry until Peter is there wiping his tears away with his thumbs. How stupid could he be?
"Is there something wrong with me?" Andrew begs, looking all shades of hurt as his bright blue eyes twinkle with fresh tears.
"No, of course not," Peter shushes, cupping Andrew's face with both of his hands tenderly. "I really appreciate the offer and I really want to take you up on it, but I just can't."
"Why not?" Andrew pleads, sniffling a little.
"Because I respect you," Peter tells him frankly and it makes Andrew's bottom lip quiver with emotion. "Your mother needs you, Andrew. She's more important right now."
"Yeah," Andrew nods stiffly. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong," Peter reassures, letting go of Andrew's face when he calms down a little. "I got to get going, okay?"
"Okay," Andrew agrees in a timid voice riddled with tremors.
Peter leans in and cups Andrew behind the back of his neck and presses his lip chastely over the boy's gently. Andrew makes a startled tiny noise in the back of his throat, kind of like a hiccup, but he reciprocates the kiss tenfold. Their lips move sensually but Peter never breaches the boy's mouth. Not right now.
Peter ends the kiss with an extra little peck and a soft nudge of his nose against Andrew's and leans his forehead to the other's.
"I'll be back next week and we can talk some more," Peter whispers intimately in the space between them. "I promise."
And as he lets Andrew go and leaves the boy all alone with his ill mother and abusive father, Peter knows that he did the right thing. He just wishes it didn't hurt so much turning his back on Andrew like this. Peter kicks himself all the way home.
Next week can't come fast enough.