"Jim?" Sebastian said. The boy was unconscious. How the hell did that happen? Sebastian wasn't at all sure what to do. Should he take Jim to the hospital, or the police, or should he just keep driving? Finally, after much thought and curses whispered under his breath, he drove home. Luckily, no one was around to see him carry the boy over his shoulder and into his flat. That would surely have made the neighbors talk. He laid Jim on the couch and got him a glass of water. "Jim," he said, trying to wake him. "Come on, Jim, wake up."
When Jim finally came to, it was to the sound of a familiar and comforting voice. He groaned, mind blank for the moment and then let his eyelids flutter open. There was Mr Moran, leaning over him with worry written all over his face. Jim reached out and touched him, to check that he was real. Content that he wasn't in fact dead, or dreaming, he wriggled slightly and answered in a groggy voice, " 'm awake. What's going on?"
"You passed out in my car. We're at my flat now," he explained, handing Jim the water. He kept watching him for a while, concerned.
The boy took the glass from Sebastian. He wasn't thirsty, but apparently Seb wanted him to drink something and so he took a couple of sips of cool water just to please him. The details were still kind of hazy, but things were slowly creeping back to him. Some of them extremely unpleasant. "Did I get sick on the side of your car?" he asked weakly, not wanting to think about anything else currently rushing through his mind.
Sebastian smiled. Jim always concerned himself with the weirdest details. "I don't think so. That doesn't really matter right now. What do you think we should do?"
"I dunno," he said. Jim usually had an answer for everything, but this time not a single idea came to mind. "I could jump off the bridge over the river?" he suggested seriously.
Sebastian just looked at him in horror. "No," he said, knowing that to the boy, that was an actual possibility. He took a seat next to Jim on the couch. "I...I think we should go to your house," he said cautiously. "We can take a look at...him...and if it looks like anything other than natural causes, we'll...think of what to do."
"I hope I did kill him," remarked Jim evenly, ignoring Sebastian. "It's a shame I will never be able to remember it if I did."
"What did he ever do to you that was so bad?" asked Sebastian, taken aback. He knew absolutely nothing about Jim's home life, but couldn't imagine anything that was bad enough to make Jim act like this. "I know you don't like to talk about it, but..." he trailed off.
Jim merely stared at him in horror. Was he overreacting? Was he mad? Had his father been normal after all? "I thought I already told you. He...tried stuff."
"Yeah, you said that, but what kind of 'stuff'?" he asked, trying with all his might to keep his voice in check. Jim really didn't need to be yelled at right now.
The boy looked mortified and looked away, cheeks bright red with shame. "I never wanted any of it," he assured Sebastian, so nervous he couldn't answer the question properly straight away. "And I did try to stop him... sometimes... after a while I just...let him..." Jim looked queasy and stared back up at Sebastian, trying his best to keep it together, "He...used me. You know? Do you understand?"
Sebastian was indeed beginning to understand, but he had to be sure he wasn't just jumping to conclusions. "Used you for what, Jim?" he asked quietly. All the anger and impatience was gone from his voice, replaced by care and concern.
Jim started to cry very suddenly. It even caught him unawares. "Why are you making me say it?" he demanded through his tears.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "You don't have to say it. I'm sorry," he repeated. Sebastian began to wonder what he had gotten himself into. Jim had more problems than anyone deserved to have, let alone a seventeen year old boy. He wondered who would take care of Jim if he wasn't there. The answer that immediately came to mind was 'no one'. Without him, Jim would be totally alone. And god knows what he would do to himself then.
"You don't have to be sorry," Jim snapped, staring at the floor as a fresh wave of shame swept over him. He felt dirty and disgusting, and most of all, like he had somehow let Sebastian down.
"I am, though," he said, watching as Jim's expression blackened. "I know you don't want or need my pity, but...there it is." All he wanted was to hold Jim close to him, like he had done earlier. He thought that the closer they were, the safer and happier they both would feel. But he knew that wasn't the case. Jim would push him away as soon as he laid a finger on him. Especially now, after admitting everything. So Sebastian just sat next to him, watching but not saying a word.
Jim picked at his fingernails and scowled, trying his best to be fierce (the occasional sobs weren't helping). He had known this would happen. He despised pity and yet he was getting it from Sebastian by the bucket load. All he wanted (not that he'd admit it) was for someone to say 'Jesus, what a terrible thing to happen!' and then leave it at that. He supposed he wanted recognition for what he'd been through, and proof he hadn't simply been overreacting all this time. "Say something," he commanded unhappily.
"I don't know what to say. Jim, we can't just leave him there. If you don't call the police, things will only get worse. I know you don't want to deal with any of this, but we have to. You have to think of something," he said. He was trying his hardest not to patronize Jim, who was angry enough as it is.
"Well, we have two options," said Jim, sounding empty and flat, as though he were reading out a maths equation or a boring passage of text rather than making a huge decision that would, in one way or the other, shape his future. "Either we dispose of the body, or I hand myself in." He sniffed and wiped his eyes, remembering the third option, his personal favourite. "Or I could dispose of myself. Even though I know you don't want me to."
Sebastian glared at Jim when he mentioned the third option. He decided to not even acknowledge it. "Where do you think we could hide it?" he asked, looking out into space rather than at Jim. To him, getting rid of the body was the only real course of action. He was determined to protect Jim no matter what; he couldn't let the boy get arrested.
Jim shrugged, deciding all of a sudden that he couldn't care less. What was the point anyway? It was only going to end the way it always did; badly. Sebastian put his head in his hands. Here he was, risking his life for Jim, and he was being so uncooperative! "Jim, please, you need to help with this. I'm willing to go to any lengths to get you out of this mess, but you need to help me."
"Why?" demanded Jim, turning into a petulant child because of the overwhelming stress and responsibility suddenly placed on his shoulders. He didn't feel ready for it. "Why are you helping me anyway?" He realised he sounded cruel and suspicious, but he couldn't help it. His head was a mess. All he wanted was to close his eyes and disappear forever.
"Because we're friends, Jim, and friends help each other in difficult times. Usually, that doesn't include concealing a murder, but I'll do it, if that's what you want. I just can't make the decision for you. What do you want to do?" he asked, looking right at Jim and placing his hand on the boy's shoulder at this last.
Jim sighed and pulled himself together, taking strength from the hand on his shoulder. He nodded, showing he was ready to cooperate. "Let's get rid of him. We could put him in the river?"
"No," Sebastian shook his head. "That's the first place they'd look," he narrowed his eyes in thought. "Whatever we choose to do, we probably shouldn't do it until dark," he said, looking at the bright morning sky out of the window.
"Well, it's not like anyone ever visits our house," commented Jim optimistically, "We can go and get him later on." Feeling ever so slightly braver, he sat up a bit. "Bury him in the woods?" he suggested, thinking only of films he had seen and books he had read.
"I guess we could-" Sebastian stopped. An idea had struck him. The woods was a rather popular destination for victims like Mr Moriarty; popularized by television and pop culture. But Sebastian thought of someplace better. "The cemetery," he said. "You never look for something in its proper place. And it's huge, it would take them ages to dig it all up," he said, looking at Jim, almost gleeful with his idea.
Jim raised a tired eyebrow, weary but still impressed. "You know what, Mr Moran?" he said playfully, "You are an awful lot smarter than you look." He shuffled on Sebastian's couch and enjoyed how comfortable it was. His own sofa at home had been dirty and broken and covered in beer cans, not an ideal place to relax.
"Well, we can't all show it off all the time," Sebastian said, lightly mocking. "Do you want to sleep?" he asked. He figured Jim must be tired, having been awake early enough to get to school at five.
The boy nodded, hoping it wasn't too rude of him to simply nod off at a time like this, after he had probably put Sebastian through enough stress to give him a heart attack. He began to wriggle again, curling up into the fetal position and hugging his knees to his chest.
Sebastian went to his room and brought back his blanket to put over Jim. He only had the one, considering he didn't have a guest bedroom, and people didn't often curl up on his couch. "Here," he said as he covered Jim with the blanket. "I'll just be in the other room if you need anything," he said, thinking it best to give the boy some privacy after everything that happened.
Jim blinked up at Sebastian, still surprised by his care and kindness, even after what he had offered to do for him. He found he couldn't find the words to express his gratitude correctly, and so he simply snuggled up under the soft, warm, material and watched the man leave the room, eyes fixed on his back like a tired hawk.
Sebastian sank down into a chair at the kitchen table. It had certainly been an unusual morning. And he had a feeling the day would only get more trying. He stared out the window and lost himself in thought. He couldn't believe Jim was capable of killing another person, even someone who had done what his father did to him. He paused. He was glad Jim had stood up for himself. He never really stood a chance against any of the boys at school when they teased him, but this time he had fought back. Maybe Jim had gone a little too far in killing his father, but Sebastian was glad he had done it. If Sebastian had known what was going on between the two of them, he would have killed Mr Moriarty himself. It made him sick to think of how badly Jim was treated. He vowed that from now on, however this situation turned out, Sebastian would take care of Jim.