Chapter 5: Hostel

I feel a wet cold thing on my forehead. My head is hurting less, my arms and body are hurting less. But I'm still shaking from cold. My eyes go open.

It's the boy. He is looking at me worriedly, placing a wet cloth onto my forehead. “Dyl,” I breathe out, but the other part of his name disappears on my tongue. I don't know if it's intentional or not, but I like the sound of it.

His eyes go on me and he starts smiling a little, “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I breathe out. I haven't even seen what he looks like. I wasn't paying attention before. His hair is black. Totally black, just like Millie's. His eyebrows aren't perfectly shaped like Caspar’s but are exactly what teen boys should have. His nose matches the angry look of them. His lips are pressed together like he'd be solving a math problem. And then there are his eyes. They're blue. And they're the softest eyes I've ever seen. Weird, I know.

His eyes aren't big like mine, but they're not small either. The color of them brings out the contrast with his skin. He's black, or maybe a mulatto - I'm not sure about what he goes by. But he's the most beautiful guy I've ever, EVER seen.

I force my eyes off of his and let them slip over the room. It's only a huge bed, two bedside tables, and a bathroom. The bed's duvet is over me, but my arms are bandaged and I feel the same bandage around my torso.

“Where are we?” I ask quietly.

“In a hostel. A mile away from Greenday, about in the place where I found you,” he says, brushing the hair off of my face and tucking it behind my ear, which makes me blush more than a lot. He grins at that, showing off his perfectly white teeth with the contrast of his skin. He's sitting on the bed, next to me.

“How did y-” I shut up, seeing my palms in bandages as well. He sees what I'm looking at and sighs.

“I don't know, how you did it, but you can't hurt yourself like that.” Since my arms are in bandages, he must've seen my scars too. My face grows sad and embarrassed. “You’re not the only one,” he says quietly and turns his arms around. “I have less, I've only done it a few times, but… Still.”

“Why?” I ask in shock, looking at the three plain white cutting scars on his dark left arm. Then I get it that I know absolutely nothing about him. Not one thing, except for his first name of course.

He rolls his eyes, “I’ll tell you later. At first, I wanna know about what exactly he did to you and when did it happen and why.”

I gulp. He looks at me pleadingly. I sigh. “And you're not gonna tell anyone?”

“We could tell the child-services?” I shake my head in horror. He sighs. “And why not? He'll keep hurting you otherwise.”

“Every time someone gets the child-services, we run. And I love this house and I actually made some friends. I don't wanna leave this town too.” He seems confused, but nods.

“You know what… Tell me about what happened today in the morning and then you can tell me your life story.”

“I never open up. I shouldn't do it.”

“Are you sure? I'm a good guy, right? Don't you own me an explication for saving your life at least?” he smirks a little.

I grin tiredly. “I don't even know why you're helping me.”

He sighs. “Neither do I.” I giggle quietly at that. He smiles sadly, “You have a cute giggle.” I raise my eyebrows at him and his eyes go wide. “I mean…” He makes a face while MY face grows red.

“Thanks,” I say quietly. “For everything.” He smiles.

The next hour we spend telling each other stuff. I tell him about what my father's like and he tells me about his life. He's a gang leader in what they call ‘The West' of this town. I get to know pretty damn fucked up things about Greenday. Like the Easterns hate the Westerns and they all wanna kill each other.

The gang he's leading is ‘The West Pillows'. Everyone thinks they're dangerous, but he takes it more as a family who protects each other at every cost. Honestly, if I were to judge its status after the name, I'd guess they were some group of people who made cringy and bad jokes about everyone, or maybe a Broadway musical. But after he tells me all of it, I guess they're a legitimate gang.

“So,” I say to sum it all up. He's lying next to me on the bed, but we have a distance between us. “Your dad was my mom's neighbor since birth and they started dating when they were 14,” I say. He nods. “But,” I continue. “They broke up because they needed a change and since they only had been with one another, they both tried new partners and ended up creating families with people they actually didn't love.”

He chuckles and nods, “That’s pretty much it. If they wouldn't have done it, we'd be siblings.” I giggle at his wrinkled face. He doesn't seem pleased with the idea. (Neither am I.)

“Can I ask you something else?” I ask. He nods. “What about your mom? You told me about your amazing dad and your 14-year-old sister, but you never said a word about your mother.”

He smirks, “He isn't that perfect, by the way.”

“He loves you, that's as perfect as it can get,” I murmur. He looks at me sadly.

“My mom left us when Sugar was born. I was 2 when she left and we've been living without her for 14 years now, so it's pretty hard to remember her.”

“Oh,” I say quietly and lower my head a little, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he chuckles. “Your dad is abusive and mom died, what do you have to be sorry for?”

“My mom loved me. Your mom chose to leave you. That's the difference.” I look into his eyes. They're filled with hurt and sadness. “You try to sound like you're not hurt, but I can see that you are. And it's okay to be hurt. Doesn't matter that someone else's problems might seem or be bigger than yours. You're still allowed to be hurt.”

I see something flick in his eyes. I want to hug him, but I can't bring myself to cross this little area between us and wrap him into my arms. I'm too shy and socially awkward for that. So we just lie on the bed until he opens his mouth.

“Can you tell me about your brothers?” he asks. I start smiling a little.

“Like what?”

“Like where the hell are they and why aren't you living with them.” I chuckle at his tone and nod a little.

“I'm the youngest, obviously. The next ones are Daniel and Jacob. They're 20 and they're in college in Spain.” He bursts out laughing and I nod with a smirk. “Yes, I know. At least now they talk Spanish, I think… So yeah, I can't live with them. Then the next one is…” I shut up and look into his eyes, the sudden closeness scaring me.

“Yeah?” he asks.

I gulp. “The next one is Nicholas. He's… a musician. You might know him.” He nods and waits for me to continue. I smile, he isn't asking me anything else. I like this guy. “He's 25, in LA, can't live without paparazzi or anything, so that life is not for me. He's kind of rich though, so he's the reason I get food and clothes and have a phone and all these things.” He looks kind of sad.

“And your dad? Doesn't work?”

I shake my head. “If he's not drunk, he's high.” He raises his eyebrows in shock.

“Anyways,” I continue. “The oldest brother is-“

“Wow, you have a lot of them.” I chuckle at his comment and find myself turning to face him.

“He’s Matt. He's 28 and in the military. Afghanistan. I haven't seen him in four years.”

He looks sad. “And the others? You've seen them?”

I shake my head, “I saw Nick about a year ago, but the twins don't have that much money to come home just for few days, so I saw them last when they left. Two years ago.”

He sighs sadly. “Do you miss them?”

“More than anything,” I say quietly. "But y'know, I don't blame them for not coming."

"How come?"

"If I was to get away... I'd go. I'd run from my father. And I wouldn't want to look back either."

"You're here, alone though," he says with a deep frown craved into his face. "I mean, wouldn't you go back for one of your brothers if he was to have to be alone with your dad?"

I think about it for a while, and finally, shake my head. "I think I'd just force him to come with me. Nick has asked me many times and I know he wants me to go and live with him, but he knows I don't like many people or big crowds. I don't want the attention he has... If he had forced me though, I'd probably be happier than I am right now with dad."

I clear my throat quietly and keep talking. "I'd like to live with Matt, to be honest. But, he's in the military. He gets money and all the services he needs, and that's why he's there at all. Plus, he's been taking care of me my whole life, so it's not like I blame him for leaving, either."

Dylan nods slowly, probably starting to understand.

We keep lying on the bed in here for a while. Just in comfortable silence. “How much did this place cost?” I ask finally.

“Not much.” I turn my head up, to see his face, but my head starts hurting again and I hiss in pain. He slides his hand over my hair. It makes all the nerves in my head disappear and weirdly, it stops hurting. “Come on. Get some sleep,” he says softly.

“And you'll stay, right?” I ask.

“If you want me to.” I give him a single small nod. He smiles sadly, “Then I'll stay.”

...

When night comes, I feel a lot better. He insists that we eat something. I've told him like hundred times that I don't want to and I'm not hungry, but he still orders some food with the room service.

When it comes, the man looks at me worriedly, but doesn't say anything and goes out of the room after Dyl tips him. “You act like a billionaire,” I murmur.

He smirks and gives me a small nod, “I’m not, but I do have enough money to get some food for us.”

“Why did you have all that money, going for a run?” I ask.

He seems a little embarrassed. “Uh, I called my dad, he brought me a credit card and some clothes when you were asleep,” he says and points at the bag in the corner of the room.

What? Traitor. “You said you wouldn't tell anyone,” I say quietly, not revealing the pain in my voice.

He sighs, “I'm sorry, but you really need to eat and I don't know for how long we're gonna stay here.”

“You promised you won't tell anyone,” I say almost the same way as before but with stronger words this time. Feeling something hurting inside me. And it's not cuts or bruises. He lied to me.

“Maggie, I-” he shuts up as I turn around in the bed, my back to him. I hear him sigh sadly, but at least he leaves it that way.

I know he's eating, but I just wanna sleep again, to be honest. Which is kind of logical, since it's like 11 pm now. I turn to look at him. He looks at me with his eyes and gulps the food down. He then gets up and shuts the light. I turn my back to him again.

I don't know what to say. I wanna say sorry for being mad, but also… He's the first person besides my brothers, who I've ever trusted. And now he already broke the trust. On the first damn day.

I hear him shuffling with something next to me and then a thump on the ground. I look over my shoulder and can't see him. I start smiling a little, at his goofiness. “You can sleep in the bed,” I say quietly.

He sits up on the ground and I can see only his head now from the darkness from behind the mattress I'm lying on, which makes me grin. “Are you sure?” he asks. I nod. He smiles thankfully and gets into the other side of the bed.

I start thinking. How would it feel like, if I held his hand? Would his pupils grow bigger when he looks at me? What would the feeling be like, if I moved against him right now and he'd wrap his arms around me? What would it feel like to run my fingers through his black locks, one always falling onto his forehead? If I touched his face? His lips?

I start thinking about the things I told him and what would happen if anyone found out. Would he tell anyone else? Will his dad call the child-services? Would my brothers come here if I'd been placed into foster care? Would they come to see me at least?

I haven't told this to anyone, but it really hurts. It hurts that my brothers won't come. I know the reasons but come on. If the twins would save some money, they could come. Nick would just have to take a few days off and he could easily come. Matt, I don't think so, but the other three yeah they could. They just don't want to. They're tired of this crap called their childhood.

They don't think I'm hurt from it, but it's the reason why I cry every night. I miss them and I wanna see them. Not through my screen. I wanna hug them and I wanna feel safe like I used to when I was a kid. A little sob escapes from my throat.

I feel Dyl moving in the bed and then stopping again. He keeps moving after he hears another sob from me. And just in a few seconds, he's so close to me, that I can feel his body heat even through the thick hoodie and my shorts. His breathing is quiet and very smooth, but the hair on the back of my neck raises every time he breathes out. And then he does it.

His arm goes around my waist and his other hand tries to get under my body. He gets it under me just with less than a second and then tightens both of them. Gosh does that feel safe. We just lie like that for a few seconds and I keep crying.

Then he moves his head just a little, so that his chin would be over my shoulder and his lips almost against my ear, “You raise your shoulders up when you're scared,” he whispers. His voice sends shivers down my spine and all of my scars start tingling a little. “I’m sorry I made you scared.” My stomach flips so many times, butterflies flying against the sides.

And then comes the thing I've never hoped for. I've always read about it, but never actually thought it would ever happen to me… He presses his lips against my temple and holds them there. This is a sign of love and trust and care. This is the first kiss all the boys give you if you're destined to be together. It shows that they'll protect you. Always and for any cost.

I turn around in his arms and look into his eyes for a second. He looks so sad and his face grows even sadder, seeing all my tears. I pull my shoulders even more up if it's possible, and I snuggle my face into his chest, accompanied by both of my bandaged hands.

He holds me tightly against him, his one hand on the back of my head, securely. Just before I'd fall asleep, he whispers, “I’m sorry. But you need to know that I didn't tell my dad about you. I told him I needed money to stay here for a few days with a few friends. That they have problems at home,” he whispers.

I gulp, trying to digest it. “Really?” I feel his head nod against mine. I start smiling a little. “I’m sorry I was mad.”

“I'd be mad too.” I smile at his words and close my eyes again. He starts softly stroking my hair. Just a few seconds before I fall asleep, I raise my head up a little and give him a peck on the cheek. Just a peck, like kids, do, but still, my lips touched his face. His perfect chocolate skin.

I feel him snickering at that as I snuggle my face back into his chest. “Cutie,” he whispers under his breath. And just like that, I start grinning. It just took one simple word from him to make me feel better and all the sobs disappear.

And so, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks and the ‘perfect girl next door' (that's what everyone has started calling me, not knowing about my situation at home) find themselves snuggled up in a hostel bed, both thinking the same exact thoughts about each other, but neither of them admitting it. Not even to themselves.

(Ourselves.)