My thanks to Sylvain for the beta work.
Runaway
Part 4
Hunger burned in his belly, thirst in his throat. If that wasn't bad enough, he was tired and cold. In the two months since he'd left Emmerdale, his fortunes had been mixed, but this had to be his lowest point, was his lowest point. His money had run out two days ago, and what little he'd eaten since, he had stolen. He wasn't proud of what he'd done, of resorting to such measures again.
He was half wishing that he'd been caught in the act now, that the shop keeper had seen him stuffing his jacket pockets with munch, he might have spent a night in a police cell if he had. Ok, so they weren't the most comfortable of places, but at least they were reasonably warm and dry, he'd have been given a meal and a hot drink too. But then again, a handful of chocolate bars and a few packets of crisps probably weren't worth the paperwork involved; he'd have just been given a caution and sent on his way.
On his way! That made it sound like he was heading someplace in particular. Truth was, he didn't have a clue where he was, let alone where he was going. He was wearily traipsing down some country road he'd happened upon, he just kept on putting one foot in front of another because he had to, he had to keep moving.
Night wasn't all that far off now, and knowing the temperature would fall drastically when darkness did, he was keeping his eyes peeled for something that would provide him with some shelter, a barn, any kind of farm outhouse would do. He didn't want to sleep out in the open again tonight, but it was looking more and more like he would have to.
A string of cars had just passed him by, a few weeks back he'd have stuck out his thumb, hitched a lift. But there was no point doing that any more, not the way he looked. He didn't need a mirror to tell him he more than resembled a tramp... well he hadn't washed or changed his clothes in over a week, he had to be stinking to high heaven. His designer stubble had grown into a straggly beard, he didn't like it, it itched way too much, and as for his hair, that was a lot longer than he liked it too. No one was going to stop and pick him up, no one in their right mind anyway.
He longed for a shower... to soak for hours in a hot bath... and a fresh change of clothes; he wanted to feel clean again, some way near human again. He wanted to sleep in a bed, curl up under a duvet, rest his head on a soft pillow... he wanted to fill his belly... pig out on bangers and mash...Sunday dinner... beans on toast even, anything hot and filling would go down nicely right about now!
Reality stung; there was no chance of any of that happening, not unless... there was one way out of the pitiful mess he found himself in. A phone call or a text was all it would take. Paddy would drop everything and come get him... he longed to see the older man, hear his voice, his mum's, too, for that matter. He missed them both badly but, he knew he couldn't make that call, he couldn't go back, he could never go back.
Why had he let himself think of them? Things were bad enough right now without him getting homesick too. Every now and again, that emotion would sneak up on him and overwhelm him. He would struggle with it, have to battle against it, the call home was just so strong, he had to tell himself over and over that he was stronger.
He had to think of something else, get his mind onto something else, but what though? It was hard to think of anything other than the ache in his heart and just how easy it would be to put that right.
Feeling a telltale drop of moisture on his face, he groaned aloud, it was starting to rain... that would make his misery just about complete!
As he rounded a bend in the road, the much-needed distraction materialised, his gaze immediately falling on the vehicle that was parked just up ahead. The car's bonnet was up, its hazard lights flashing, it looked to have broken down. Did he walk on past or did he offer his help?
As he drew closer, he could see that a man was leaning over the engine, tinkering with it, hopefully he knew what he was doing, because he really didn't want to get involved, not unless he had to. The other man had been so engrossed in what he was doing that he hadn't noticed him approaching, not until he was just a few feet away. Realising he was no longer alone, he straightened up, his attention settling on him.
Aaron wasn't prepared for what he felt on seeing the stranger up close... the fact was he liked what he saw, really liked what he saw... the grey eyes, the warm smile, the handsome face framed by shoulder length wavy blond hair. Inside, he felt something stir, something he hadn't felt in a long time, something he shouldn't be feeling now... attracted to another man!
"I don't suppose you know anything about cars, do you?"
The voice was soft and had a friendly ring to it; he found he liked that about him too. But it was all so wrong, wasn't it? Jackson was barely cold in his grave!
The gray eyes were searching his now, waiting on his answer. He wanted to say no, lie and say that he knew nothing at all about cars and then carry on walking, but his mouth betrayed him, "A little." Dropping his rucksack on the side of the road, he set about finding the problem. Five minutes later he had, ten minutes after that he'd put it right.
His expertise had earned him a thank you and an offer of a lift, but as desperate as he was, he turned it down; he couldn't believe just how strongly he was drawn to the stranger, so strongly it scared him.
TBC