I'm getting use to writing in the third person again. This is unedited, sorry about any mistakes.
Trigger Warnings; Child abuse and blood. Please be careful guys this is actually kinda bad.
Dave was about to go to bed, it was starting to get late and the shitty movie he was watching was getting boring. He had tried to watch a Nic Cage flic to see what John saw in them. So far he couldn't find any redeeming qualities. Just then Dave's phone buzzed on the desk next to him. Pausing the movie he looks at the phone. It's John, but it's also 1 in the morning. What the hell?
'can you pick me up?' His stomach drops when he reads those words, all sorts of fucked up scenarios going through his head. He texts back as fast as he can, already grabbing his jacket and the nearby keys off the side table.
'on my way' He's about to open the door and leave when Bro stops him by flash-stepping between him and the exit.
"Where are you going lil' man?" He asks curiously, but with a trace of suspicion. Currently he's a wall between the apartment and hallway and honestly, Dave doesn't have time for this. He tries to get through but the older man isn't budging. With every passing moment he gets more and more annoyed.
"Bro, I need to go. John asked me to pick him up and I don't really have any time to explain." He walks out the door, pushing Bro out of the way to get through. This leaves a confused and somewhat offended guardian standing where he was shoved to. He decides they're going to have a few words about respecting authority when he returns.
It's cold when he gets outside, sky grey with small snowflakes falling from low clouds. He jumps into the car and drives to John's house as fast as he can without causing a major accident. There is an overwhelming feeling that whatever made John contact him wasn't good. At all. Honestly John seemed like the type who would chop off his leg before asking for help. After about 5 minutes of anxious driving Dave pulls up in front of the house. He spots something on the porch and the moment he realizes what it is he's scrambling out the car.
John is sitting on the porch, knees drawn to his chest, bloody and nearly unconscious. He's wearing a grey shirt but parts of it is stained dark red. He has no jacket or shoes despite it being in the negatives outside. Dave cuts through the lawn, ignoring the snow that soaks through his boots, and picks him up as carefully as he can manage. In his arms John curls against him, resting his head on his chest, leaving a small stain of blood. He's pays no mind to it and carries him to the car, placing him in the passenger seat before removing his jacket and draping it over the other boy.
He doesn't bother with the seatbelt and runs to the other side. Climbing in and starting the car for the journey back to the apartment. Every now and again he would glance in John's direction to see him staring into the distance. Blood was coming from of his nose and a gash on his forehead but he didn't make any effort to stop it. He's unresponsive and Dave doesn't know what to do.
Making it back to the apartment in record time he picked up John out of the passenger seat and cradled him close. While walking up the stairs he tries to keep his movements slow and soft to ensure he wouldn't hurt the other further. This would be a lot easier if the building had an elevator. Once he makes it to the door he struggles to open it. Eventually it opens on it's own to show Bro waiting for him, obviously less than pleased.
"Dave" he says seriously, with a bit of an edge causing John to flinch. Dave holds him closer and shushes softly, glaring at Bro while doing so. Bro is about to continue his speech but stops when he sees drying blood on grey fabric. Staring for few seconds he frowns and points to the bathroom. Dave carries John to the said room, propping him up against a wall.
"John, can you hear me?" Dave watches John try to get his head together before nodding, closing his eyes. Instantly he takes one of his hands, holding it gently. "Open your eyes dude." His other hand comes up to pat his face, "Come on John stay awake. Just for a bit then we can sleep." His eyes open and Dave let's out a relieved sigh.
Bro comes in and hands Dave a warm damp washcloth along with a dry one and a glass of water. Dave starts by wiping the dried blood off his now black and blue hands, noting their shaking. Once that's done he removes his dirty glasses before softly wiping his face. "Keep your eyes open," Dave reminds softly when he starts to slip away. Soon his face is clean with the bleeding mostly stopped.
He turns around to grab the first aid kit but before he can stand Bro hands it to him. He has been watching intently from the doorway, somehow staying out of John's line of sight. Dave pulls bandages and neosporin out of the kit and pushes John's hair out of his face. Once again reminding him to stay awake he bandages the cut with utmost care before lightly caressing his face, John leaning into the touch slightly. Next, he takes an ace bandage and wraps John's dominant hand and wrist. He only has one bandage so this will have to do for now.
"Hey dude, look at me." It takes a few seconds for John to focus but it happens eventually. "Drink some of this, alright?" Dave tries to hand the cup of water over but John isn't moving. Instead Dave brings the cup to him, prompting him to drink. After a few sips he puts the cup down next the the bloody washcloths.
Standing, Dave collects John into his arms again and brings him into his dark room. Once they're on the bed Bro closes the door and silence fills the space. John's quiet breaths are ragged, adding to the long list of concerns. Dave pulls the blanket over them and everything calms down a bit.
He's carding his fingers through John's hair when he starts crying. Afraid it's his fault he removes his hand. John shakes his head, trying to convey that he liked what was happening before. Dave slowly moves his hand back and starts petting black hair softly. John relaxes again, although he's still crying. Crying after being beaten to a bloody pulp is normal though, so he's not too worried about that part.
John doesn't know how he got here, all he knows is that he's with Dave and that means he's safe. Closing his eyes a few scenes play out in his head, trying to ignore the thoughts he moves to get closer to Dave. He's not entirely sure when he suddenly decided he liked being so close to the blonde but he can't bring himself to question it. Not now. Because even as he nuzzles into the chest of the other he can't stop the violent flashbacks from playing out how he got every single bruise in graphic detail.
"Where the hell were you last night?" Dad yells, slapping John before pushing him onto the kitchen floor. All he wanted was a glass of water, why did it have to turn into this? He tries to scramble away, to abscond into his room but he's not quick enough. The second he moves to escape his father grabs him by the hair and pulls him to his feet. It seems like Dad forgot about giving permission to stay at Dave's. There really is no way he can work himself out of this situation.
"I find it hard to believe somebody would try and get to know you, let alone invite you to their home. What were you doing?" Dad asks, face literally inches away from John's. He swallows nervously and fixes his gaze onto the floor. If he's learned anything over the years it's to not react to threats and questions. That only makes dad angrier, remaining as stoic as possible is the best bet.
Suddenly, John is on the floor again. His head hits the tile with a loud crack and blood starts trailing down his forehead. While he tries to recover dad walks over and puts his heel on John's hand and wrist. John didn't know what to expect, dad had never hurt his hands before. That fact is quickly changed when he starts stomping, over and over, effectively crushing the appendage. He does the same to the other hand and by the time he's done John is a sobbing, gasping mess on the tile. Unfortunately, he knows this encounter is nowhere near over.
Grabbing one of his nearly broken wrists dad literally drags him up the stairs. Knowing what's to come John tries to get away again. This feeble attempt is even more pitiful than the last. Once he's on top of the stairs dad does another thing he's never done before. He punches John, right on the face with much more force than necessary. When blood start to drip off his chin and onto the carpet he's pushed down the stairs for the second time this week. The trip from the top to bottom is both painful and debilitating. Once he's stopped rolling he feels himself being dragged again. The front door opens and he's pushed outside.
"Since you like being out so much you won't mind staying out here for tonight, right?" He closes the door, making sure to lock it, leaving John in the cold without any sort of protection from the elements. Sitting up against the wall he curls in on himself, trying to maintain some warmth. When he shifts something falls out of his pocket, his phone. He'd never been happier to see the device. He texts Dave in hopes that he could save him from freezing to death. When Dave responds some faith is restored, and the last thread of consciousness he was holding onto breaks.
When he comes back to reality Dave is holding him tightly. He hears something odd and it takes a few moments for him to realize it's him. He's sobbing, making a weird mixture of ungodly gasps and silent cries. He knows it's an ugly sound, and he wishes Dave didn't have to be the one to hear it. Honestly this is the loudest he's been in a very, very long time.
"John it's okay, you're safe now." Dave says softly and John wonders how long he's been out of his own head. All he wants to do is sleep but for some reason he can't stop crying. It's like the floodgates have opened and out comes years worth of emotional baggage. "You're okay." He whispers confidently now that John is reacting to his attempts at comfort.
Although he's calming down John is still nearly hyperventilating, obviously not getting enough air. Dave rubs small circles in his back as he starts talking, "You need to breathe, in and out." John tries to, he really does, but halfway through the second inhale his breath catches and he dissolves into panic again. His fingers grip dave's shirt as tightly as they can in their damaged state.
"It's okay, look at me." John looks up wearily and when red eyes meet blue he's transfixed. The color should probably unnerve him but he finds its calming, almost hypnotic. They stare at each other until Dave is sure John is aware of him. "There you go, just pay attention to me. You're safe now. Breathe with me, alright?" He doesn't even think about the cliches, all he's worried about is John.
"Breath in," John gasps, taking a choppy breath in. After a few seconds he runs a hand down his back gently, "and out." John attempts to exhale only to fail and take in a sharp breath instead. His fingers grip alittle more, trying desperately to express his distress. Dave decides to continue his instructions, giving him something constant to ground himself to.
"In," Dave prompts and John takes in a more successful breath, "and out." He's able to fully exhale, even if it's a struggle. "Good, now again, breath in." Dave rubs small circles in his back as he presses closer, taking in another shaky breath. He reverses the direction of the circle when he whispers, "breathe out." Dave feels him exhale against his neck, shuddering slightly. They continue this for awhile, until John is breathing normally without constant guidance.
Dave holds him while he breathes, making sure he doesn't lose composure again. Minutes pass with them clinging to each other, sounds of soft wind from outside filling the room. The weather has worsened, turning to a blizzard coating the ground with a thick layer of snow. Dave can't help but ponder what John would have done if they hadn't become friends. Would he have stayed on the porch all night? Would he have frozen to death? Sadly he fears that might be the case.
John can't help the feeling that this is the warmest he'll ever be. While he lays in Dave's bed, the closest he's ever been to somebody, he marvels in the fact that he's safe. Even as his head pounds, his wrists and hands ache, his whole body hurts, he smiles against Dave's neck. Because he can finally tell himself that Dave cares. He cared enough to drive to his house at 1 AM, he cared enough to clean him up and help him through one of the worst nights he's had in his life. Dave wasn't going to leave him and that was enough. It was more than enough.
