DAN

When I saw him, I wanted to keep driving, but I couldn't. Even from a ways down the road I could see he needed help, even just a ride home. Yeah, we didn't exactly get along the first day we met, but something in me couldn't let me keep rolling down the street. I pulled over a few feet away and got out.

He didn't see me standing there, at first. He didn't even look up, just kept watching cars go by. I stood at a good distance, just watching and waiting to see if he would move. He was completely still except for the shaking of his shoulders and the sharp gasps of air. He must've been fucking freezing out in this cold with nothing but a t-shirt and jeans.

I winced and awkwardly rubbed at the back of my neck. He had a suspiciously shaped bruise on his upper arm, glowing red and fresh. Maybe I didn't like the kid very much, but he'd been so friendly, and I actually hated to think that someone had hurt him.

Eventually he did look up and see me standing there, and must have recognized me. "H-Hey," he stuttered out, sounding very small. He fixed his hair a bit and tugged at his short sleeves, trying in vain to hide the handprints left on his skin. "What are you doing here?"

"Had a doctor appointment," I answered casually, sitting down next to him on the edge of the sidewalk. People continued to pass by us, unfazed by our presence as fleeting bodies in their own existences. "What about you?"

He took a moment to answer; I had to figure he was trying to come up with something mundane, so I wouldn't ask any more questions. With that idea in mind, I promised myself I wouldn't. "Got hungry; came into town to buy a snack."

I nodded, and after a moment of silence between us, I remembered something I'd heard in the hallway at school. "So today's your birthday?"

He nodded mutely, looking back down at the road.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Cool. Can't wait to be eighteen, but I've still got more than another year to go." I'd never imagined that this kid was actually older than me. "Are you gonna have a party or something?" Not that I'd necessarily go, but maybe to just be friendly I'd consider it.

He didn't answer for another moment, rubbing his knees through his jeans. "I-… I had one tonight, but it didn't go very well. Too many people, too much noise… I left early."

I couldn't help but sadly associate that with the bruise on his arm, but still didn't ask about it. We weren't close, we weren't even friends –we were new neighbors and I decided to strike up a conversation in hopes to cheer him up. I sucked at it, but hell, I was trying: that's more than can be said for eighty percent of my life.

I got to my feet and reached out for his hand. "Come on, let's get you home."

He just sat there for a long moment, and I started to think maybe he didn't want to go, maybe he'd just prefer to stay where he was. But at last he took my hand and let me pull him up. I let go as soon as he was steady and led him to my car. I noticed he had a painful looking bruise on his right arm that mirrored the one on the left –someone must've grabbed him, and grabbed him hard. I didn't like to think about it.

I stopped at the supermarket on the way home. "You wanna come in?" I asked as a courtesy. He shook his head and stayed inside. I took my keys with me but didn't lock the doors. I picked up my prescription and headed to the bakery, where a woman met me at the counter and asked what she could help me with.

"I just need a little cake that says 'Happy Birthday—'" I didn't know the kid's name. "Just 'Happy Birthday' is fine."

It took a few minutes but I walked out with a bag and everything paid for, so I could skip the register. When I got back out to the car, I put the bag in the trunk –careful with the cake— and got into the driver seat. The kid hadn't moved and inch since I'd left him.

When we did get back, I parked in front of my house rather than his, and when he tried to get out I calmly asked him to hang on a minute. He looked nervous but stayed put. I huffed out a sigh and turned to look at him, trying to speak as coolly and sincerely as I could manage.

"Hey, um… I know you've been trying to keep what happened tonight a secret or something, but those are definitely bruises on your arms, bruises from someone grabbing you. Maybe I'm looking too deep into it, but hear me out. I…" I sighed again and shook out my nerves. He waited, patient but anxious. "Are your parents home?"

He looked over to his driveway and shook his head. "Doesn't look like it. I think they might've gone to my aunt's house."

"Is anyone home at all?"

"No."

"Then I'm not comfortable letting you go home right now –at least not alone. I don't know who hurt you and you don't have to give me details or anything, but if whoever it is comes looking for you, it's gonna be at your house. And if you're alone there, they could do a lot worse. If they already hurt you at a party, with lots of people around, I don't wanna risk what they'd do if you were all alone."

I paused for a minute and looked at him. He was staring down at his lap, obvious tears in his eyes. I couldn't help but feel protective of him –and maybe we could be friends or something after all. When he wasn't being all excessively cheery, he was more than tolerable. I had to admit, I kinda liked him when he was quiet.

"Anyway, there's two options. You can come stay at my house, with me and my family for the night, or I can go stay with you at your place –I'll sleep on the couch to make sure no one gets in. They won't get past me, and at my house no one our age will get past my dad."

He was silent, thinking, considering which option he wanted to go with. I sighed in relief when he didn't show any signs of fighting it, not insisting that he was fine and going off to be hurt again or worse.

"And how do I know you're not a rapist?"

That sort of came out of nowhere, but I figured it wasn't an unreasonable question in this situation. Granted, I'd never lay a hand on him, but maybe my word wasn't enough. I pulled the butterfly knife out of my pocket and handed it to him. "Because if I try anything at all, I give you permission to cut my dick off."

He smiled a little and stuck the knife in his pocket. "Alright, let's go to your place, then."