I wanna fly
"I'm not sorry, you know."
Matthew listened quietly. He wouldn't have been able to say anything much anyway. His throat felt raw.
The boy, his face flat against a pillow, inhaled deeply. Adelio's bed smelled nice. Something faint and soft, absolutely not like the smell of detergent (Matthew likened it to lily of the valley, one that had been thoroughly destroyed by a nuclear bomb.) his bed exuded. It almost made him forgot his back ached like crazy. His hands hurt too. He wanted to scratch the bloody flesh of his palms hidden under Band-aids.
Adelio's rough hands on his back made some things better. His heart still played a drum solo on his chest though.
"Well, I am for the beating. For the rest." There, the teen mutely traced Matthew's ribs. His stiff fingers brushed over purple skin. He had no need to push in the boy's meat to find his ribs, for there was no meat and the teen could easily see the thin ribs poorly hidden under pale skin. They stretched pallid skin littered with angry red spots, as if their only desire was to escape from such a poor prison. "You chose it." He said with a touch of hesitation.
Matthew craned his neck to stare at Adelio. What did he choose? Adelio stopped his ministration when he noticed the younger boy's stare.
"You could have acted like a brat and John would have chased you out. But you chose to act all sweet. You knew what you were getting into." Adelio said –accused-.
Matthew pushed his face against the pillow. He didn't want to see Adelio's accusing stare. In the depths of his guts, something vicious raked his innards and tangled them.
No, I didn't know. He just knew there were worst places to be in. The heavy scent of drugs filled his lungs. He didn't miss those days when angry shouts and profanities mingled together were hurled at him.
Matthew only regretted one thing from his time in the dormitory. He never spoke –not even once- to his silent companion. He was content to stay silent and he thought she was too. Now that he had tasted true isolation in a world filled with smiling, albeit indifferent people, he thought, perhaps she had wanted to hear his voice too. Maybe she just didn't know how to say it.
Perhaps, if he had just opened his mouth once, he would have created something beautiful.
Adelio went back to work without further ado.
(The kiddo looked so freaking sad.)
Only psycho liked to kick a beaten pup. Wait. No. Only psycho liked to kick a pup, period.
Rich was a psycho. Adelio wasn't. Simple as that.
Matthew whimpered and gnawed on his lips. Adelio had touched a sore spot, just under his shoulder blades. Gently, rough fingers spread cool ointment on his wounds. Matthew turned his head a bit so he could see Adelio without breaking his neck.
The teen was on his knees on the fluffy bed, his bushy eyebrow almost connected by his frown. His wild curly hair bobbed with each of his movements. He didn't look dangerous.
Where was the angry teen who promised to break his bones? Where was his roommate who didn't talk to him? Where was the boy covered in scary scars? Where was the Adelio who didn't care?
One second, Matthew had been flat on the ground of the road, and the second, he was in his underpants, flat on a soft bed. One instant, he had been unable to breathe. The following instant, warm air circulated freely in his lungs. And someone he didn't know was taking care of him. A known stranger who said he wasn't sorry but still tended to his wounds. An Adelio who said things he didn't understand.
Matthew knew he should not be there. Fudgy heck, he should be running away to somewhere children were properly looked after. Avoiding Adelio's warm touch had to be his priority. Wasn't this guy the one who promised to break his bones? The Adelio who glared at Matthew the rare times he remembered his roommate existed? The reason why he got hurt in the first place?
Without him, Matthew would have had a normal school year. He would not have gotten the beating of his life.
"For the guy who beat you up." Adelio stopped one instant, fingertips lingering on dark bruises and angry red marks that decorated sickly white skin. "I'll take care of it."
Adelio meant it. Matthew doubted it.
Silence fell on them, heavy with unsaid words and past indifference. Matthew wanted to hear Adelio's voice. He wished he would continue to grouch and grumble and mutter mysterious Spanish words under his breath. So he spoke.
"Who is he?" Matthew breathed. His voice sounded weird, raspy and distorted. The acrid taste of whatever had left his bowel made him sick
The tanned boy gently attacked a crimson spot on Matthew's side. "Rich Stall. He is pretty much the Golden Boy of the area. Everybody owns his pops some money. No one wants to be in the black book, so the guys who know shut up and the others firmly believe he is an angel fallen from the sky."
"Why does he hate…" Matthew trailed off. A bout of politeness prohibited him from finishing that sentence. Prying into other people's business was bad, or so they said.
"Why does he hate my guts?"Adelio shrugged and raised his fist. "I'm brown. And he is a total psycho. Once he set on fire the wood behind his barn. People were in there."
The guy could have burned the whole town and his entire county down. The part of his brain that didn't hurt despaired. A crazy wanted Adelio and him dead. Nice. "Nobody got hurt?"
Adelio's hands left Matthew's back and he sat cross-legged. He grinned a grimace. "We ran fast."
The boy wiggled his toes, felt his entire feet tingle and came to the conclusion that he would have totally died in that fire. He slowly sat down. "He didn't get caught?"
"He blamed his cousin. The police said it was an accidental fire." Adelio threw the frailer boy his worn black T-shirt and a pair of pants.
"Thanks." The boy muttered. He slowly got up. The places where the cream had been put felt sticky and oh-so soothed. He dressed up slowly. "Why did the police think it was accidental?"
"His dad." Adelio stopped talking to clumsily help Matthew pass his aching arms in the holes of the T-shirt. He maneuvered his arms as if they were made of crystal. He muttered a small sorry every time Matthew's face twitched in pain.
"His dad?" Matthew echoed after his head successfully went through the collar.
Adelio hummed and patted the bed. Matthew obediently sat down. "He paid a hefty sum for people to forget he was the one with gasoline and a match. Some people say he beat Rich good for that." His rictus was not faked.
"Like he beat me." Matthew said softly. He clenched his jaw immediately after, as if it could stop the words from pouring from his mouth.
The rictus disappeared and confusion replaced it. Finally, Adelio leaned back on his hands and hardness settled on his square jaw. "It's not the same. That asshole had it coming. He did something very wrong." Adelio hesitantly patted Matthew's head. "You did nothing wrong."
Matthew didn't like it when people messed with his hair. It was matted and curly; it hurt when people tugged at it. He let Adelio gently caress his hair. It loosened a very tight knock inside, yet made his eyes burn. The teen awkwardly moved his hand away after a few seconds.
He gazed over the head of Matthew while the younger boy roughly rubbed his eyes with his fists.
Adelio cleared his throat. "Anyway," then, he stared resolutely at the tiny boy sitting on a corner of his bed. "Rich won't bother you again."
Matthew noticed for the first time how light the color of Adelio's eyes was. He sniffed. His eyes were burning again. "Thank you." He whispered out.
Adelio peered at the exposed fair skin of his roommate. He looked even frailer with his old T-shirt on. Skinnier than all the other children that had lived in his house too. And painfully more worn out than when he first arrived in the Martin's. Adelio, in the deepest part of his guts, admitted he could, somehow, be partly at fault.
"Rich hadn't touched the other kids." Adelio blurted out quietly. (It was the closest he would ever come to an excuse.)
Matthew's shoulders quivered. The boy bit his dry lips. Another question arose; why did Rich attack him? His split lip made itself known. Matthew vaguely tasted blood. It wasn't something unusual anymore.
Adelio observed quietly Matthew. Small dots of red appeared on his lips and did absolutely nothing to make him look alive. A heart was beating in that bony ribcage, blood flowed in those thin veins and yet, only a greenish complexion showed on the kid's face. His violet eyes –what a weird, beautiful color- sunk in his eye sockets.
All the things he refused to see before. All the things he had known far too well, once.
"Abu! Matthew! We need help!" Chloe's call echoed in their warm bedroom.
Adelio jumped out of the bed. Matthew stumbled after him, ready to go back on the battlefield. His legs gave out under him after the second step. Hands roughly lifted him by the armpits and hoisted him to the lower bunk. The boys both leaned away after their contact ended.
Adelio pushed back his wild locks with a sigh. "John should've taken you to the hospital. Hell, even the senile charlatán would've been a good idea."
Matthew tilted his head. The definitely not-English word sounded French, with a very strong Spanish accent on the last sylabbus. Un charlatan? Did he mean a quack? We have one? Does he have googly eyes, wild hair and a bloody white coat? Does he give weirdly colored pills to his clients that led them into Death's embrace? Does he -
Adelio stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared in wonder at the boy who looked lost in thought. He almost flicked his forehead to get a reaction out of the hazy-eyed boy. In the end, he chuckled. "Stay there. I'll tell them you're doing your homeworks." Adelio decided.
A strangled noise left Matthew's throat. Homeworks? The first and only time he had dared to try to escape his chores with that good reason, Chloe had laughed. And told him to get his cute little butt in the kitchen.
Even if, by some miracle, it worked, why should he stay there when he would eventually have to do his chores anyway? Chloe and John would certainly find more things for him to do and then it would pile up and Matthew would die under the heap of junks he was supposed to clean. Adelio would certainly place more junks on his corpse, just to hide it until it rotted.
Adelio's bed smelled good and his hands were large and warm and safe, but Adelio was… he was… he was an ass! He wanted Matthew dead.
Matthew got up. His knees shook way less than before. Tiny black dots didn't impede his vision anymore. His stomach had nothing more to reject. He ached less. He could do it. His legs wobbled as he took his first step, second step, third step forward-
In one fell swoop, known hands put him back on the bed. Brown eyes stared him down. Adelio's hands stayed on small shoulders as he stiffly pushed Matthew back onto the mattress.
"You, stay there." Adelio didn't break eye contact. Matthew didn't either. "I'll take care of it."
Matthew, bewildered, watched as his roommate headed towards the door. "Take a nap or something." The teen added awkwardly.
Adelio soundlessly closed the door behind him, leaving Matthew alone with the twilight. The last warm sunbeam of the day lit their bedroom with beautiful colours.
I'll take care of it.
Someone cared. Adelio cared.
A long sigh escaped his lungs as he slumped on Adelio's bed. Another bloody stain decorated the pillow. He closed his eyes. The savor of lukewarm fries replaced the disgusting after-taste of his vomit. The odor of worn books and mint cigarettes blended with the mysterious, nice scent of Adelio's bed.
Adelio's hands had been rough and unbearably kind.
His eyes burned in a familiar way.
And for the first time in forever, it was okay.
[Happiness might just not be overrated]
That evening, Matthew did nothing. No chore, no homework, no talking, just a blissful and nightmareless nap. Had an angel suddenly appeared and proclaimed children shouldn't work so much? Had a pretty fairy with a shining wand done his chores for him?
No, such things only happened in books.
Matthew learnt from Chloe's gushing praises during their supper that Adelio had taken care of his share of chores, claiming his roommate had important stuff to do for school.
Adelio, Matthew decided on the spot, would be a great character in a book.
As he munched on a delicious sandwich –maybe he would finish his plate for once- Chloe turned towards him with a smile.
"Matthew, wouldn't it be great to have your own bedroom?"
The mouthful he tried to not choke on tasted like dirt.
Finally, when he was sure he would not die pathetically thanks to a potato sandwich or worst, throw up on Chloe, he glimpsed at Adelio.
The teen was hunched over his plate, dark brown eyes trained on the half-sandwich in his hand.
He would not speak out for Matthew. Why would he? Someone's kindness could only go so far. Adelio was not an idiot. He would not oppose their hostess for something so stupid as his roommate leaving his room.
Matthew shouldn't oppose Chloe either. Besides, Adelio would definitely be happier alone. He would too. Right?
The sound thing to do would be to nod, smile and be done with it. Chloe asked for the form. She had already taken her decision. Matthew's humble opinion would not be taken into account. Sleeping in another bedroom would not kill him. Matthew's cheeks ached at the simple idea of smiling. He didn't want to. He didn't want to hurt anymore.
He wanted… he wanted…
Chloe stared at him curiously. She was waiting for a quick, affirmative answer. It wasn't coming. Her ward was staring silently at his half-bitten sandwich. Her little Matthew was cute. Stupid, but cute.
But even his cuteness wouldn't save him if he didn't like her cooking.
"You don't like my sandwich?" She took offense. Her cooking skills were awesome, thank you very much.
Matthew jumped. A violent red decorated his pale cheeks. John poured himself some water. Adelio downed the rest of his sandwich with his glass of milk. "Chloe, can I have second?"
Chloe smiled happily, Matthew's mortal offence forgotten as she put together a second sandwich for her Abu. He was such a good, outspoken boy.
Adelio glanced at his left. From under long blond eyelashes, violet eyes with specks of stardust observed his supper. The teen bit into his second serving with a flicker of a frown. Matthew's plate was half-full. Adelio's hands tingled with the memory of fragile skin and jutting bones. No way was he letting that twig of a boy alone.
Matthew stared at his plate. The sandwich was good, it really was, but swallowing another morsel was impossible. Unspoken words clogged his throat. Adelio had helped him. Chloe had completely forgotten about him again.
He had a chance. Matthew had to grasp it. He had to speak out. He had to raise his eyes, will his mouth open, muster his vocal chords.
He did so with an ease that frightened him. He had forgotten he could talk in front of his hosts. Frail, quivering words which had been kept inside for so long left his lips. "Can I stay with Adelio?"
Chloe momentarily stilled, before she remembered what they were talking about before. She smiled apologetically. "Oh dear, I think Abu would like to have his space back. Plus, you're a big boy. You should have your own room."
Matthew didn't want to be a big boy. He didn't want his own room. He didn't want to be alone.
"I'm fine with him staying." Adelio came to Matthew's rescue with a clear voice.
"Are you sure? Didn't you want him out of your room?" Chloe asked, surprised.
Adelio jerked his head in negative, inwardly cursing. Did she have to say that?
Matthew clenched his fist in the fabric of his pants. The bruises on his chest throbbed painfully. Adelio had wanted him out, then.
Chloe turned toward her husband. "What do you think, dear?"
John shrugged. Matthew was sure he hadn't followed the conversation. He rarely, if ever, took part in a conversation. Why would Chloe ask her husband anything when she took pretty much all the decisions?
Clear brown eyes, a lot different from Adelio's, looked at him. Something inside Matthew's chest tensed.
"Let the boys together." John decided.
Matthew waited for Chloe's chattering and remarks. It did not matter what they said, she had taken her decision before the beginning of that conversation. It was all so pointless. She wouldn't change her mind, not just because-
"Alright." Chloe said easily.
For a brief moment, Matthew thought he had heard a hallucination.
His hostess daintily cut a small piece of her quarter of a sandwich. She stopped her fork halfway. "Adelio, if you want to be alone, just say so. Matthew can and will use another room if he takes too much of your space."
Adelio nodded and received the rest of her sandwich with a soft 'thank you'. Under the table, knees brushed against each other before Adelio brusquely moved his leg away. Matthew could only thank him again and again in the confines of his mind.
"Matthew, are you finished?" Chloe asked calmly, as if she had not just been counteracted by her 'boys'.
Matthew blinked and stared at his plate. Finished? His bitten sandwich still was there, abandoned. Matthew wasn't particularly hungry anymore. It wasn't that good.
A strange taste lingered in his mouth. Something sweet, a tad like maple syrup, a bit like victory. He didn't dislike it.
He wasn't mad when Chloe interpreted his silence her way. She took his plate away and gave it to Adelio. She then served Adelio and John a bowl of fruit salad. Matthew always refused to take a dessert. Chloe never took one.
John did. Adelio did. Adelio acted a lot like John.
Matthew eyed John over his glass of cold milk while Chloe chattered about this and that. Adelio cracked a joke there and here. John acted as usual; a silent presence that made its capacity to speak known only when he was solicited.
The light faded, night came and Matthew went to bed. He heard the same soft music Chloe always listened to before she went to bed. It was not exactly bad, but his hostess could certainly find a new track to drink her daily dose of tea on.
Matthew stayed awake until Adelio came. He wanted to talk. His vocal cords actually worked after so long, he might as well use them. His voice had sounded distorted and weak, not at all like he remembered it. He ought to practice.
Matthew stared at the white ceiling of their bedroom. He imagined what he could say. What Adelio would say. What Matthew could ask. How Adelio would answer.
He wanted to know who Adelio was. He wanted to know who his hosts truly were. He wanted to know why Adelio suddenly cared.
Finally, Adelio stumbled into their room. The younger boy could see his tall form move clumsily around in the darkness. The teen bumped in more stuff than he usually did. The parquet creaked under his heavy footsteps.
Matthew's desire to talk dissolved with each bump Adelio made on his way to their bed.
Matthew bit his lips. He felt stupider than Phil, if that was possible.
Adelio had never been clumsy. He carried himself in a way Matthew could only admire. His gait had a suppleness Matthew had never succeeded to copy. He could carry the heaviest boxes without help. His muscles moved at his command, unlike Matthew's.
Matthew had often stared at Adelio when he could take a break during work. Adelio could do effortlessly what Matthew was incapable of doing. Adelio could carry Mathew as if he weighted nothing.
However, even the brightest sun could eventually run out of fuel.
Each night, Adelio's steps became heavy. Each night, his eyes would close on their own accord. That night was no different; worse, Adelio bumped and stumbled on air more than usual for he had taken charge of Matthew's share of labor.
Matthew counted ten of his breaths. A weight oppressed his chest. It made respiration (everything) difficult. The bed cracked familiarly under Adelio's added weight. The teen took his time to settle in a good position.
The boy decided his questions could wait. Three breaths later, he was lying on his belly. His mattress didn't creak or squeak under him.
"Adelio?" Matthew whispered softly. It still sounded like thunder in their quiet room.
"Yeah." Adelio yawned.
Face against his pillow, Matthew said softly one simple word. "Goodnight."
Brown eyes stared unblinkingly at the wooden bed slats above his head. Adelio knew a frail boy rested upon them. "Goodnight, chico."
[Let's try one more time]
Adelio and Matthew did talk. However, they had a conversation which cannot be written down, for they did not exchange any words.
Matthew tried and failed to speak like he had wished to. He had difficulty stringing words together. Adelio had many qualities, but being patient was not one of them. (He did not want to admit he wasn't a great speaker either.)
The teen simply showed. His frown became a warning, his hands, an explanation, his smile, a support. Few words were exchanged, and it did trouble them.
At first, it had been hard to understand each other. Matthew misinterpreted Adelio's frown as a sign of anger or disappointment. He withdrew into himself for he was afraid to ask and scared of Adelio's answers. He still had problem to voice his thoughts in a way that pleased him.
On the other side, Adelio did not know if he should do some small talk or just shut it when he faced Matthew's silence and deep violet eyes.
They were young. They adapted. One day, McMillan pointed out they worked damn well together. John stared at his boys thoughtfully before he slapped McMillan out of his reverie.
Adelio had laughed and Matthew's lips had twitched upwards.
McMillan was a weird one. Sometimes, he wouldn't show up for work or he would leave before the end of the day. Matthew didn't like him much; Adelio and he had to work extra when that happened. He didn't know why John kept such a lousy worker.
Time passed. Adelio taught; Matthew learnt.
His bruises faded. His wounds closed. Rich made no appearance. The Martin sowed their seeds. The rainy spring changed into a humid summer. Flowers bloomed.
When he was outside, Matthew followed Adelio's only order to the letter. Never ever stay alone. If you're alone, you're dead. It was easy, since John had accepted to take him to school with Adelio. He often arrived late and Phil wrote messages and he got less stickers. No problem. Faking John's handwriting had been all too easy. Plus Phil's stickers were ugly. Who would want a flashy, sickly kind of green-yellow duck anyway? Not Matthew.
Adelio made the walk back with him in the afternoon every single day. The first time, Matthew tried to tell he wasn't obligated to do that. He very much felt it was unnecessary (God, wasn't he a burden?). Adelio shrugged and threw wild berries into Matthew's hands. "Eat, chico. The wind is going to blow you away."
"Thank you." Matthew breathed. He stared at the red fruits and saw treasures.
Adelio may or may not have blushed. He would certainly deny he did. The heat was simply getting to him.
He hid his cherry-colored cheeks with his hands and rambled on this and that. Matthew listened.
Matthew liked to listen to Adelio's voice –it would suddenly drop or crack for no reason! He could do Mickey Mouse and then Darth Vader super easily. What an awesome skill!
Thus, school ended without a hitch.
Matthew was now free for two months. A freedom made of chores, but Adelio's presence made everything better.
It had been even more of a chore to sit in his classroom until the end of the year. He had finally someone to talk to, someone who understood. To stay put for five hours a day when he could be out there with Adelio, under the sun, left a bitter taste in his mouth. Beside, Phil had smiled way too much at him. His classmates had looked surprised every day to see him. Matthew had supposed it was because he looked alive and well.
His report card arrived.
Phil had left a nice little comment on it. Something like, 'you can be proud of little Matthew, he is an awesome student'. Matthew hadn't read it till the end.
Matthew, however, could have done better in History. He knew he could have, but he hadn't cared much about what happened to autochthones five centuries ago. The present was far more interesting.
He was satisfied with the rest of his grades.
Chloe did not even look at his report card. She made a comment about how her boys didn't need to be intelligent to be farmers. John did look at it.
He nodded and that was it. Matthew supposed that meant everything was alright.
Adelio laughed happily that night. They stumbled together on the teen's bed, deep in the night. John hadn't joked when he had said summer was a busy season for them. He never joked about work.
"You passed the three tests, chico." Adelio exulted, white teeth glinting between stretched dark lips.
Matthew massaged his sore shoulders. He tilted his head, waiting for the rest. Adelio's smile became wilder as he held up three fingers. "Chloe's, John's and the rest of the world's."
A door was slammed somewhere in the house. They immediately quieted down. They strained their ears, frozen in place, ready to jump into their bed at any suspicious noises. After ten breaths, they slowly laid down on Adelio's bed. The moonlight made ominous and comforting shadows in their bedroom.
"For Chloe, you will always be the cute kid she is happy to care of. Only one thing will explode this cement: John. He's the second test." Adelio spoke in hushed, throaty whispers.
Matthew nodded. It made sense. He had, thanks to his eyes and conversations with Adelio, learnt who he had to please. Chloe, despite her sweet authority and not so gentle orders, was not the boss of the house. John was.
"John will never stop judging us. As long as we are useful to him and kind to his wife, we're good. The third test is important for him though. If we are good or bad problematic children."
At that, Matthew turned his head to look questioningly at his bedmate. The bed creaked as Adelio shifted to lie down.
"The good ones are like you. They are pitiable, they are true angels and they would do anything for a bit of attention. They will never stop anybody from sleeping at night-"
Matthew tugged Adelio's hair. Gently.
Adelio stiffly stared at the thin hand playing with his long dreadlocks. After three breaths, he relaxed. "What, it's true." Adelio pointed out jokingly.
Matthew shook his head, still carefully playing with Adelio's hair. Perhaps it was true, but it didn't mean he liked to hear such things.
Adelio shrugged at his little roommate's silence. "The bad ones are like me. They keep people on their toes and up at night, thinking of how they're going to behave with such nightmares." In the darkness of their bedroom, Matthew distinguished Adelio's shiny teeth peeking out between his stretched lips.
"Together, you and me, we are a set. People like set. John's no exception." Adelio continued. "Frank, the kid before you, tried to become bad, but I was already there. John sent him away the very next day."
Matthew did not bat an eyelid at such news.
A part of him wished he did.
Chloe's callous comment and John's indifference no longer affected him. Matthew knew what they wanted. They certainly didn't want kids. They wanted the glory and respect for taking care of problematic children. They wanted something to spend their free time on, a hobby of sort.
Sometimes, Matthew wondered if he was a bad guy. Adults often told him he had to be kind, charitable and helpful to those who suffered. If someone was hurt, he had to help that person. He had to feel sorry for that person.
He did pity that Frank. He really did.
But... not enough to wish he had never been that stupid.
Matthew felt conflicted.
Adults lied. (Sometimes.) They never told him how he was supposed to act when he was the one hurting.
Besides, Matthew really wanted to ask those adults what could he feel for a boy he never met. What should he feel for a boy's stupidity that permitted him to arrive in the Martin's?
After all, Adelio and he could moan all they wanted against their hosts, but that place was still so much better than what they had known before.
Matthew could eat his fill and have clothes that smelled almost nice.
Adelio was not abused.
They had each other.
That was enough.
Matthew had no need for more. He didn't regret his lack of contact with the other kids anymore.
He had learnt he was different from the other kids in his little school. Other kids didn't think about death. Other kids didn't plot to be kept. Other kids had parents. Other kids couldn't be mauled so easily.
They wouldn't have been able to understand anything. Or do anything to fill the gap between their worlds.
Adelio tolerated his presence and gave him wild berries. It was enough to give Matthew the strength to leave his bed every morning. His heart ached with the thought of his mother, but Adelio was real and he smiled at Matthew.
Her face, her pout, everything was fading. He didn't have a picture of her. Really, he had nothing, no reminder of his life before. He only had the company of his nightmares (memories) at night: his grandfather still growled and pounced at him.
He dreamt of her too.
Once upon a time, a woman had helped him, had fought for him, and had cried for him. He had been so close - so damn close- to call her mom (only in his mind though), even if she smoked way too many cigarettes. She left him. She couldn't keep him. No. Miss Smith did not even think about it.
Maybe, maybe, if he had tried harder –
A warm hand hovered above his eyes. "You think too much, chico."
Matthew leaned just a bit in the touch. Adelio would not like it otherwise. He would tense and flinch and slip away in a faraway place Matthew couldn't reach.
Matthew was extra careful when he was around Adelio. He always approached him up front, he only touched him when Adelio saw him and gave permission. They didn't talk about his scars or Rich.
Adelio didn't ask him about his mother.
Adelio was kind. Adelio was like him. Adelio let him touch him. Adelio wasn't a monster. Adelio openly cursed the people who hurt them.
Matthew knew that, technically, cursing other people was bad. Even if it was his teacher, the person who had closed his eyes when one of his pupils was assaulted.
Who was bad then? The victim who cursed or the perpetrator who was cursed? Adelio felt they were to be well within their rights. The boy wished he could be more like his roommate. More pragmatic. Pragmatism made life easier, less complicated. Why care for a kid that would leave in a month? Why, indeed, care about what people thought of you?
"John said I can show you how to steer the tractor." Adelio removed his hand.
"R-really?" The big red beast they called a tractor scared Matthew a bit.
"Si." Adelio chuckled. He knew his little roommate held no great love for the stinking, black fumes maker.
The teen shifted on his bed. A brief look at his alarm clock reminded him of their reality. He stood up with a profound sigh. "Time out, chico. We need to be up at five o'clock."
Matthew crawled out of the bed swiftly. Adelio, as usual, searched blindly around for his pajamas. "They're under your pillow."
Adelio chuckled when he indeed found his missing clothes there. "Thanks, bro."
Matthew climbed in his bed. Warm, fuzzy feelings and a ray of moonlight lit his eyes. "Matthew." Adelio called softly, one hand on the wooden barrier that was supposed to keep his roommate from falling down.
The boy turned in his bed to face his roommate. Adelio handed him something. A rectangle-shaped thing covered in plastic wrapper fell in his hands. "Eat it. You didn't eat much tonight." The teen bended down and disappeared in his bed before Matthew could thank him.
"Thank you." Matthew murmured gratefully.
Matthew had trouble eating when he truly listened to Chloe. And, since he was the only person around the table who was supposed to answer her, he had to listen to her.
Matthew would have preferred his mother's silence over her insensitive monologue any day of the year. She did not talk about anything remotely interesting, just whatever passed through her mind. She loved the sound of her own voice. It was tiring, listening to her.
But the worst of it all was when they had guests.
Their guests always sang praises to their hosts, as if Adelio and Matthew were difficult children. As if taking care of them was a daunting task.
Chloe would nod solemnly. How grateful her boys were, to leave under their protection. How unhappy they would be, away from nature and her farm and her John.
Sometimes, he wished he wasn't the 'nice' problematic child. Yet he was, so he had to listen and twitch his lips upwards when all he wanted to do was bang their head until they could see the truth. Strangulation seemed like a good idea too. Adelio did more caring than John and Chloe ever thought about.
[And again.]
The first of July was a good day. Everywhere, he saw people waving Canadian flags, drinking beers, cooking BBQ and being genuinely happy.
The joyous mood affected all of the tenants of the Martin's. John talked a bit more, Chloe chattered their ears off, Adelio smiled more. Matthew's eyes twinkled.
Chloe had out-done herself and baked enough food for a regiment that day. John and Adelio still cleaned half of the plates. Matthew ate so many pancakes he could only sat drowsily on his chair, eyes unfocused.
Maybe he would take a last one. They tasted fabulous. His stomach would not explode, right?
He jumped when a colouring book fell on his lap. "Happy birthday, Matthew!"
Chloe ruffled his hair and kissed him on both cheeks. He blinked owlishly, unsure of what was happening.
His birthday?
The day that marked his aging process? The famed, mystical day where other children received gifts and hugs and love just because they were one year older? Just because they existed?
Matthew never had a birthday before.
John patted his shoulder roughly and placed a red Swiss Army knife in front of him. "You'll need it."
Matthew may or may not have thanked them. He didn't know. He stared at gifts, real gifts, and a lump appeared in his throat. The metal of the knife (his) was cool against his fingertips.
Adelio made a strange noise. He looked flustered. Maybe he had eaten too much? Or maybe he wanted a knife too? If he wanted it, Matthew would give it to him.
"I'm gonna give you your gift later!" He blurted out, his tanned cheeks turning a shade darker.
Chloe laughed. "Abu, just admit you forgot it was Matthew's birthday."
She smiled and ruffled his bushy hair. She didn't see how he stilled a second. No eyes caught it, except Matthew's. "How forgetful you can be."
Adelio said nothing.
Matthew wanted to hug him and tell him everything was alright. He hadn't known it was his birthday either. Before, it had just been the day his mother went to the hospital and got out with a babe in her arms. A seriously unlucky day, if she could have been able to have her say.
Adelio stayed oddly silent during the rest of the day. Matthew was going to give him the knife to cheer him up, but he had no time. Between the fireworks, the movies and tasty popcorn, the bonfire, the s'mores they made on the fire and the stories Chloe told, he forgot.
The following morning, Adelio didn't budge from his bed when the time came to go work. Matthew sat on his bed, unsure of what to do. Wake him? How to do that without startling him?
He moved towards the ladder, his mattress creaking softly under him. He put a foot on it when Adelio spoke. "We have a day off."
A strangled, startled "What?" escaped Matthew. They had a day off yesterday; they couldn't have another one now. John wouldn't have allowed it.
"Just sleep, chico." Adelio shifted in his bed and soon after, his breathing evened out.
Matthew stayed still, one foot on his ladder. Finally, he slowly laid down on his bed. He stared as the sunrise's floodlight lit their bedroom. Its red walls turned orange and yellow. He closed his eyes. Wandering thoughts left him and flew away into the sunrise.
The two boys spent their morning sleeping. When Matthew finally woke up, the sun was high in the sky and Chloe was singing somewhere in the house. Adelio was up too. Up and stuffing stuff in a black backpack. He cocked his head towards Matthew's direction. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."
Matthew laughed. "Good morning, beast."
"Chloe made some pancakes. You should eat 'em before she snakes on 'em all." Matthew jumped from the bed and ran faster than he ever did before. He would eat those pancakes or… or die trying. Chloe would not get his share of fluffy, delicious delicacies drenched in maple syrup. Never.
Fortunately, Chloe had just begun snaking when he arrived on the crime scene. She mournfully let go of his pancakes and he grinned while he ate them.
It was a glorious way to start the day.
Adelio soon arrived in the kitchen, backpack on his back. Matthew let him take a morsel of his pancakes, because, well, it was Adelio.
When the last piece of his tasty breakfast was swallowed, Adelio spoke. "Get dressed, we're hiking today."
Matthew stared at Adelio curiously. Didn't they have to help John before they got free time? And hiking? Where would they go?
Adelio shook his head, equally amused and frustrated. "I told you, we have a day off today."
Chloe cleared her throat as she entered in her kingdom. She glanced at Matthew's plate which had been wiped clean.
"John doesn't need your help today." John always needed them for something. "So maybe you could tidy up the basement. God knows it needs a good clean-up."
There it went again. Matthew and Adelio wouldn't go hiking then. Chloe would find a thousand chores and they would never get out of the house. It was her revenge for the pancakes she hadn't been able to eat.
It was sunny outside.
Adelio shook his head. "John said we can't touch his stuff."
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure there are things that don't belong to him in there."
Adelio left his seat with Matthew's plate in hand. "We don't know which ones." He quipped. He put the dirty dish in the dishwater.
Chloe complained about John's junks as Matthew left. She would soon start to complain about her disobedient boys and their lack of common sense, Matthew knew. Chores built character. That was what Chloe told them often.
All he knew was that chores made his body sore.
Quickly, he dressed, pocketed his new knife (for Adelio!) and went down. Adelio was waiting for him in the entrance. "Put on your best shoes, we have a bit of a walk."
The younger boy nodded and put on his sneakers, the only shoes in his possession that weren't completely worn out. They would hold until autumn. Hopefully.
"Where are we going?" Matthew tested and pulled on his shoelaces. Wisps of them stayed in his hands when he was done tying them.
Adelio was already outside, on the wooden steps that led to their limited freedom. "Somewhere."
Matthew jogged to be at Adelio's side. The older boy walked in long strides. Matthew walked faster. "Where's somewhere?"
"Second star to the right and straight on till morning." Adelio recited.
"Peter Pan?" That was a Peter Pan's quote, Matthew was sure of it. He had read and reread that book. Adelio had laughed at his yawns and thrown a pillow his way everytime, telling him to sleep.
Neverland and its heroes fascinated him. Be it Peter Pan, the orphan who could fly thanks to pixie dust and happy thoughts, or Hook, the villainous pirate bent on having revenge, he liked them all.
He understood Hook. The pirate lived with the constant fear of Tick-Tock. He lived with the idea that somewhere, a creature that was fond of his flesh waited for the right time to strike and eat him up.
Really, Matthew could understand why he wanted to take revenge. He lost his hand and his ability to sleep soundly.
But that wasn't important right now. Since Adelio knew that quote, he must have read the book. That meant that Adelio read. Adelio's reading books. Was that possible?
"You read Peter Pan?" He blurted out.
"Maybe." Was Adelio's cryptic answer.
Matthew stumbled on a rock. Adelio exploded as he steadied him. "Look where you're going, chico. I know you like the ground, but no need to kiss it."
Matthew grumbled under his breath and tried to tickle his friend in retaliation for the bad joke. Adelio ran away with a laugh before Matthew's fingertips could graze his T-shirt.
"Adelio!" He yelled.
MacMillan waved at them when they flew into the forest. He was wandering on beaten paths between the fields, observing the crops in that lazy manner the boys knew far too well. MacMillan seemed ready to abandon his work and sleep on the soft grass somewhere.
Adelio and Matthew ran for a long time along almost nonexistent paths Matthew was not familiar with.
Matthew slowed down before Adelio. His heart hammered against his chest. Precious air went and left his lungs without making him feel any less out of breath.
Matthew slumped against a boulder and laughed. He had free day and he was spending it running like an idiot through a forest.
It was perfect.
All the trees he encountered asked to be climbed, all the boulders needed to be conquered, all the bushes wanted to be visited. His fingers itched to touch every surface, grab all the berries and –oh, wasn't that mint! Adelio liked to chew mint.
Adelio quickly stopped running and turned back when he didn't hear Matthew yelling his name anymore.
He found his chico slumped on a rock, smiling like a fool. He was holding mint leaves.
He let Matthew clasp his hand during the rest of their walk as he chewed on mint.
They went up and down several hills before they heard the soft gurgling of a river. At the top of small hill, Matthew saw its crystalline water shining under the sun's light.
With a scream and his arms high in the air, Adelio hurtled down the gentle slope. Matthew followed suit, laughing.
Adelio discarded his backpack, kicked his shoes and jumped into the water. Matthew hesitated on the small riverbank, bare-footed. His hesitation got him drenched in cold water. A grinning teen had something to do with it too. "Come on, Matthew!"
Matthew jumped. Choked on water too, but that's unimportant. The pond wasn't too deep. Matthew couldn't walk, but he wouldn't drown. Probably.
He swam a bit in the natural pond, trying to follow Adelio without much success. Adelio moved in the water like he did on the ground: effortlessly, powerfully. One of his strokes equated three of poor Matthew.
Matthew's swimming classes (a nice kid taught him, one summer) were a distant memory. He kicked and made large movements, hoping he was doing it right.
"You swim like a puppy!" Adelio pointed.
Matthew shrugged and got out of the water. He was tired.
He contently watched his friend swam in circle from a boulder. Beside some mosquitoes, life was good.
A question that always bugged him emerged in his mind. Maybe, maybe, Adelio would answer. It couldn't be that big of a deal, anyway. "Adelio?" The boy called.
"Hmm?" In two powerful strokes, the teen was next to Matthew's legs. He lazily propped his head against his hand, droplets falling from his untamed hair on Matthew's knees.
Matthew hesitated. No other chance would come, he reasoned. No other moment would be so perfect and make him as bold as Peter Pan. "Why do they call you Abu?" Matthew asked. His voice only quivered at the end, on the name he wasn't supposed to utter.
Brown eyes stared him down. Matthew shriveled. With a jerk, Adelio disappeared underwater.
Matthew almost cursed out loud. Stupid, stupid, stupid- Matthew Williams, you're ruining everything-
An enormous geyser erupted in front of him. Matthew shrieked and yes, he would have made all the sopranos around the world shed a tear of jealousy. Not many people could scream that high.
But it was only Adelio and Matthew there, a pair of stupid idiots when it came to music. Also, Adelio was clearly going to kill Matthew. His hands and knees were on either side of the boy as he loomed over him, trapping him. Their faces were a breath away from each other.
Adelio could see the specks of blue and green hidden in Matthew's purple eyes.
Matthew could see the soft peach fuzz on Adelio's chin.
Adelio broke the silent spell. "That's the name my father gave me. They prefer it. Adelio's my first name though."
Any goodwill Matthew held towards his hosts disappeared into thin air. John and Chloe used the name Adelio's abuser gave him.
His hands shook. He fisted the red knife hidden in his pocket. John's gift. Dirty, dirty knife. He felt dirty. His eyes burned.
"Forgive me." Matthew somehow croaked.
Adelio blinked. He moved backward to see Matthew's entire face. "What for?"
"I was th-thoughtless. 'Should've never asked that." Matthew said, eyes burning. His stomach hurt; an invisible hand was squeezing his inside. Adelio got called that name a million times a day. A million times a day, he was reminded of his father and he still smiled. Matthew did not know if he could have done the same if every day he had been reminded of his mother.
Adelio hesitated, touched by his sweet, my-heart-is-too-big chico. He finally rested his forehead against Matthew's. His warm breath blew on transparent tears. "It's okay, chico." He reassured.
"Forgive me." Matthew repeated.
"I forgive you." Adelio said more abruptly than he had wanted to. He repeated himself softly. He awkwardly patted Matthew's shoulder, suddenly realizing how close they were. He could feel Matthew's bony legs shivering under him.
Make him smile, defuse the situation, make him smile, defuse the situation-
"I still will break your legs if you call me that though." Inwardly, Adelio promptly and colorfully cursed himself in French, Spanish and English. He still hadn't enough insults.
Matthew's heart skipped a beat. Adelio tried to crack a smile, muscles grimacing and eyebrows connecting. The younger boy mimicked him and nodded. All was well.
Adelio jumped from his lap and laid down on the boulder, on a nice, warm spot that hadn't been touched by his outburst. There, he stretched like a cat, eyeing his young confident from the corner of his eyes. Matthew stared at the small stars scars visible on his muscular arms.
Matthew mused over them silently. He turned away and blinked back unshed sniffed. What kind of horrible person could do that to Adelio? What kind of father could do that? He sniffed. He didn't know a lot about fathers, but weren't those supposed to take care of their children or something?
Adelio did not deserve what his father put him through. He did not deserve what John and Chloe, knowingly or not, did.
Matthew did not deserve what happened to him either.
He thought of his mother (cold she had been in life and in death.) Death did not let him say goodbye. His mother did not let him say anything.
Matthew understood it now. His mother had never loved him. She had hated him. Hated him so much she killed herself.
And that hurt. Knowing the person who was supposed to love you unconditionally hated you hurt. Knowing she killed herself without a thought for him damaged him. Knowing that everything he could have done would have never changed anything killed him.
Matthew loved his mother. He loved her so much he thought he had died when he touched her cold, cold skin and understood.
Each of his heartbeat pulled on his heartstrings.
"Did you know there are wolves here?" Adelio spoke up from his boulder, turned on the side to see his little, miserable snotty friend better. He propped his head against his fist.
Matthew jumped on his two feet. Wolves? Where? He surveyed their surroundings, the trees suddenly looking menacing and dark. The thick canopy only let a soft, subdued light pass through. He squatted down and moved slowly towards Adelio, fingers ready to latch onto him if something happened.
Adelio felt suddenly bad for frightening Matthew so much. "Relax. Wolves rarely attack humans. They're safer than humans."
"Safer?" Matthew echoed. He didn't understand how a thing with a lot of teeth could be safe in any way.
"Yup. If one wants to rip your throat, you will know cuz' it will try. But they don't kill when they don't need to. They never abuse their own. They don't attack their pups. They protect them." At the end, Adelio's voice cracked.
Matthew looked up. Adelio's gaze was lost in that place again (the place where Matthew couldn't reach him). Matthew's small hand hovered over Adelio's tanned one. The teen eyed him and didn't flinch away. Matthew slipped his hand in Adelio's hand. "Let's be wolves."
Adelio barked a laugh. He humored his chico with the truth. "The humans would eat us alive."
"…I will protect you." Matthew swore. Just like Adelio did for him. That was what friends were for. The rest of the world could get lost.
"And how will you do that? With your massive muscles and hidden guns?" Adelio commented. "Or perhaps you have some pixie dust?"
"I don't have muscles like you, or hidden guns or," Matthew stumbled on his words when the disagreeable realization that he had nothing dawned on him. What could he do for Adelio? "or anything really. B-But I can watch your back, make sure you eat and sleep enough. Make sure John and Chloe are not too mean."
Adelio stayed silent. "Just like you do." Matthew finished softly.
The wind played with their hair. The trees swished along it, as if they secretly wished to follow its sweet dance even if their roots were deeply embedded in the ground. The stream mounted rocks and crashed against boulders with a happy gurgling. Fallen leaves and flowers peacefully sailed on it, following a path only they knew.
"Okay."
Adelio's warm hand squeezed his own.
2018 Notice; I changed the first part of the chapter, where Matthew and Adelio have their first real conversation. I noticed that in the old version, Matthew thinks a lot and says practically nothing. Now, he is actually talking.
Yes, he is traumatized. Yes, he is still a bit afraid of Adelio. However, he craves attention. Not in the sense that he needs to the center of it, but in the sense that, like any human being and more specifically children, he needs care and love. His mother never fulfilled his need for physical and emotional relationships. His meeting with his grandfather left him scarred. Then he got emotionally attached to Miss Smith, but couldn't stay with her. Finally, the authority figures in his life are either assholes or indifferent to his fate.
Which means that Adelio could be the worst person alive and Matthew would still very much love him to the end of the earth for any scraps of his love. In the end, they're both deeply disturbed children who quickly learnt to cope with their shortcomings. Are their ways of coping good? It depends. When one feels endangered, like they do in the Martin's farm, one uses what one has. The fear of being rejected and sent away hovers over them like a sword of Damocles.
As for Adelio, his behavior can be explained easily. That boy tried to protect himself. As mentioned in chapter 3, four other kids came and went in the farm before Matthew arrived. Adelio barely mentions them, but it doesn't mean he didn't like any of them. He saw kids he liked leave him behind. Why attach yourself to kids that will leave anyway? Why attach yourself to kids that might push you out of your safe zone?
Ugh, I ranted too much. Sorry 'bout that. Just tell me what you think of this all, if you had the courage to read my ranting/explaining wall.
I bow deeply to all those who complimented my writing. I hope to always give you good quality.
For those who wished Matthew to be happy... you will see.
Charlatan: Quack doctor.
Chico: kid
(Adelio is Cuba.)