Somehow having secret names made the whole situation seem more like a play of pirates and kidnapping than reality.
During that night none of their kidnappers came to check them. Nothing happened and the time seemed to slow down. At first John tried to talk to the other boy, but Redbeard didn´t seem to be in a mood for that. He stubbornly stared at the wall. He told John that he was thinking. Maybe he was. John however noticed that the longer they were alone in the dark room and the longer the space between their last meal grew, the less arrogance Redbeard could muster up and the more effort he seemed to need to keep himself from crying. John sighed. He crawled near the other boy and when Redbeard complained, he claimed it was because it was getting chilly and Redbeard let it be. John smiled. He leaned to the smaller boy, who became completely stiff from the touch.
-What do you think you are doing? Redbeard hissed.
-I need to feel warmer to be able to sleep. It´s night time. John explained.
Redbeard didn´t say anything to that, but he let John stay as he was.
-You are weird, Redbeard muttered in barely audible voice.
-Me? Why? John asked confused. Weird wasn´t actually a positive adjective, but as he had never regarded himself as anything but oridinary, that kind of label made him curious.
Redbeard´s light colored eyes glimmered in darkness. He looked thoughtful.
-You come from a poor household. They also neglect you. Your mother has most likely passed away a couple of years ago. Either that or she divorced your father. You live with your father and an older sibling. I would say a brother as most of your clothes must be his hand me downs. At least one of the people you live with seems to have a big problem with alcohol.
John´s eyes became a bit sad as the other boy listed his life story. It sounded more pathetic to hear it from someone else´s mouth.
-She died, he mumbled.
-Your mother died? Excellent! Redbeard rejoiced.
-... Oh, I shouldn´t sound happy about it, right? Redbeard figured as he figured John´s darkened expression.
John nodded.
-Your timing is horrible. I mean, I know that you aren´t actually happy about her death but about the fact that you guessed correctly, but that´s how it sounds.
-I didn´t guess! I never guess, Redbeard protested.
John smiled slowly. He didn´t seem to be capable of staying angry at his tactless friend.
-Well, if you actually could guess that well you should try lotteries. You would be a multimillionaire in no time... So? How did you actually manage it then?
His curiosity seemed to flatter Redbeard. He inhaled dramatically and began explaining:
-First of all, everything you wear is a bit worn out and most of them seem to be hand me downs from your brother. You don´t own even a mobile phone. Otherwice you would have called help from the beginning. The fact that your family doesn´t take very good care of you is quite evident as they let you walk home alone at that time of evening. It´s not even the first time for you, is it? You´d rather spend time at school than come home early so maybe your parent abuses you. You don´t seem angry or scared, however, like one would be in that case. You even seemed eager to challenge Raymond into physical combat. Neither have you bruises or any other obvious marks of an abuse. Something else then... Maybe they drink. In matter of fact I can smell the remnants of alcohol in your jacket. No-one really drinks at school and you clearly came straight from school as when I first saw you, your jacket was crumpled on the shoulders. I suppose, you were holding a backpack before you decided to take action and abandoned it to enable yourself to move as fast as possible. You are pretty tidy despite being poor. Therefore you wouldn´t wear jacket that smells of beer, if you had time to wash it. In conclusion, the smell is from this morning. Who drinks at mornings? Well, definitely an alcoholic. About your mother... I noticed the hand knitted scarf you have. The boys in your age tend to think that kind of stuff as embarrassing (besides it really is quite ugly and definitely worn out), but you keep wearing even when it´s not that cold. Therefore, the scarf has sentimental value to you. You don´t look like you have a girlfriend and...
-Excuse me, what exactly is wrong with my looks? John demanded to know.
Redbeard reacted only with a briefly annoyed expression and continued then the fluent flow of deductions.
-So the scarf was knitted by someone in your family, most likely your mother, and quite some time ago as it seems. You keep wearing it, as it reminds you of her and she is not likely to make you another scarf anymore. Therefore you don´t meet her anymore. Which leaves us with either death or a difficult divorce. You live with an alcoholic father instead of your mother an therefore she is more likely to be dead.
About the older sibling... Well, you don´t seem like a person, who would leave a younger sibling at home alone with your dad. An older sibling wouldn´t normally let you walk home alone either, but because of your clothes I would still deduce that you have an older brother. Maybe he´s just absent at the moment.
Redbeard turned to face John.
-How did I do, he asked excited.
-Did I get everything right?
John stared back with wide eyes feeling stunned.
-Brilliant. Absolutely amazing.
Then he giggled nervously.
-If this was lotto, you would have six correct numbers without question!
Redbeard´s face dropped.
-Only six? You mean to say, that I missed something essential. And what is that?
-A small detail, John smirkled.
-My sister just happens to be extremely boyish. Great for me, as I get to use her old stuff.
Sherlock hit his forehead with a palm.
-There is always something!
When John woke up in the middle of the night without clear reason. His bounded hands felt numb and he couldn´t remember falling asleep at all. His new friend slept peacefully next to him. The floor of the office room was cold and hard, but all in all John was surprised how comfortable he felt.
Cluster of dark curls tickled his right cheek and he felt a warm weight on his shoulder where the younger boy rested his head. Redbeard looked much younger when his rude mouth was shut. The constant frown of eyebrows had relaxed and calm breath kept flowing slowly through the younger boy´s lips. John smiled warmly at the sight.
They were in grave danger. He should have been terrified, but all he could think was, how Redbeard was amazing. He had never had a friend like him. Redbeard was more intelligent than anyone he had ever known, and at the same time really childish. Redbeard didn´t see dangers, he only saw adventures. For him it was all fun and games. He was arrogant but innocent. He was both foolhardy and oddly wary at the same time. The stubborn wish to use fake names proved that he didn´t trust easily.
Johns eyelids felt heavy. Redbeard´s warm body felt comforting against him. The slow rising and lowering of the small chest made a nice lullaby. John drifted away, surprised of feeling safer than in his own bed.