Just a short one-shot that I did late at night. I just couldn't get the idea out of my head, so I had to write it. I hope you enjoy reading :)
It was raining. The sky was filled with grey clouds, in which water continued to pour from. The streets of Dublin were full, full of people ducking in and out of the rain. Nobody stopped or even glanced at the young boy standing on the Ha'Penny bridge. He wasn't wearing a coat and already the rain had soaked through the thin clothes he was wearing. His arms hung over the rails lifelessly, as he stared into the depths of the Liffey river. Nobody could see that the rain on his face was actually laced with tears.
The boy turned around and slid down the side of the bridge, trying not to flinch as his broken ribs made contact with anything solid. He closed his eyes as water dripped from his hair and ran down the length of his face. He couldn't help but wish the rain would wash away the bruises, the black eye and his sins. Maybe if he stayed out in the rain long enough he would once again become pure and no longer the broken mess his father had made him into.
He opened his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling that he was being watched. The streets of Dublin seemed grey, even the lights from the shops didn't hold their usual warmth. The world seemed dull, dark almost. He closed his blue eyes wandering if any one would notice if he climbed over the side of the bridge and plunged into its icy depths. The thought was almost tempting. Nobody noticed or cared about the bruised and broken boy, nobody noticed him. The rain continued to relentlessly attack his face, pin pricks of icy cold pain.
As if by magic the cold suddenly stopped. His eyes flew open as he realised the rain was no longer on his face. He almost hit his head in shock, as he noticed a little boy standing over him with a frown on his face. He couldn't have been any older than five, but his blue eyes seem to look at him almost as if they could understand his pain. The boy was holding a green frog umbrella over his head, so that they were both protected from the rain.
'Hello.' said the boy softly.
'Hello.' he replied, not sure what to make of the little boy who had decided to approach him when the rest of the world seemed to think he was invisible.
'My name's Steven.' said the boy boldly, tugging awkwardly at his own yellow rain mac.
'I'm Brendan.' he answered reluctantly, trying not to encourage the child. He just wanted to be alone.
'You're sad.' said Ste, his blue eyes full of worry. 'And poorly.' his small finger traced the bruise on Brendan's cheek.
Brendan flinched at the contact, but the little boy seemed undeterred.
'I'm here with my Daddy. I'm six today.' The look on Ste's face showed he thought the age was a big milestone. 'We're on holiday.'
Brendan bit down heavily on his own lip, determined to answer the boy who was showing him kindness. 'Happy Birthday.'
'Did you fall down?' asked Ste, once again examining Brendan's face with a laser like intensity.
'Something like that.' answered Brendan, knowing a boy of six just wouldn't understand his life.
'Didn't your Daddy get you a plaster?' Ste asked innocently.
'No.' answered Brendan, feeling the lump in the back of his throat forming once again. Seamus had never brought him a plaster, he preferred that Brendan wore his wounds like badges of honour.
'He's a bad Daddy.' said Ste simply. He pushed his green umbrella into Brendan's hand and slid down next to him on the floor.
Brendan tried to ignore how surreal the situation felt. He was sat on a bridge holding a frog umbrella with a little boy who wouldn't get the hint and leave him alone.
'Shouldn't you go find your Dad? Won't he be worried where you are?' Brendan asked, trying to get rid of the small boy without hurting his feelings.
Ste stubbornly tilted his chin, fixing Brendan with a knowing look. 'Don't you want to be my friend?' he asked boldly.
'I don't have friends.' answered Brendan, unwillingly smiling as he watched the boy once again tug awkwardly at his yellow rain mac.
'Then I'll be your friend.' answered Ste, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. He looked at Brendan and noticed how wet he was. 'Where's your coat?'
'At home.' answered Brendan.
Ste once again shot him a look that made Brendan feel as if he was the child. 'What's that?' the boy asked, pointing at one of the padlocks hanging off the bridge.
Brendan felt as if his head was spinning with all the boy's questions. 'They're called love locks, couples who love each other write their names on them and put them on the bridge.'
Ste pulled a face. 'Are they yours?'
Brendan let out a soft chuckle. 'No. I don't have a girlfriend.'
The piercing blue eyes eyed him yet again. 'When I grow up I'll be your girlfriend.'
This caused Brendan to laugh even harder. 'I don't think that would work.'
Ste scowled at him. 'Why not?'
'Steven!' cried a man's voice.
In seconds the little boy was being pulled away from Brendan, by who he could only assume was his Dad.
'Don't you ever do that to me again.' said the man angrily. 'I was so scared.'
The little boy's big blue eyes filled with tears. 'He was crying.' said Ste, pointing over to Brendan who was still clutching his green umbrella.
The man finally tore his eyes away from his son and looked at Brendan properly. A number of emotions flittered across his face: anger, worry and pity. Brendan hated the emotion of pity the most.
'Are you okay?' asked the man, looking at Brendan's swollen face.
Brendan took a deep breath and did what he always did: lied. 'Yes. I was in a fight earlier with my friend, I'm going home in a minute. I was just waiting with Steven until he found his Dad.' he said smoothly.
The man's face looked relieved at the lies. 'Well thank you for keeping an eye on him. We better be going. Say goodbye to the boy Ste.'
Ste angrily stuck out his bottom lip. 'No!'
'Steven.' said his Dad, his voice full of warning.
'No!'
The man tugged at his son's hand, eager to get away from the strange teenager with the bruised face. But Ste gripped onto the bridge refusing to move, his little fingers white with effort from clinging to the railings.
'I want to stay with Bren-dun.' cried Ste.
'You can't.' answered his Dad. 'You're freezing and you need a bath.'
'No!' cried Ste again.
The man finally seemed bored with the game and picked Ste up, flinging him over his shoulder. Ste began to kick and scream, but the man continued to walk away and back towards the streets of Dublin. Not even bothering to look back at the young boy still sitting on the bridge.
Brendan caught one last glimpse of Steven before he disappeared into the crowd, his blue eyes were still watching him. He let out a heavy sigh of relief at the fact that he was once again invisible to everyone. Alone. It was then when Brendan realised he was still holding the little boy's green umbrella. He lowered it, only to find that it had stopped raining. Brendan closed the umbrella and left it on the side of the bridge, ready for if the little boy came back for it at any time. A part of him knowing that he probably would be.
Brendan was half way home when he realised the weight on his shoulders no longer felt as heavy, he didn't feel as broken as earlier. Even his injuries didn't hurt as much. It was as if something inside of him had rebooted, making facing Seamus again feel a little easier. He realised with a jolt that the little boy had given him something back, something that he had lost for a while. For a moment in time he mattered to someone, wasn't invisible. He actually existed to someone and they had cared about him. And to Brendan that meant the world.