Chapter Text
Rain poured from the sky, cold and hard like ice shards. It would take only a little to turn it into snow but the late afternoon didn’t do him that favor. The light faded already and left only the streetlights to illuminate the small street. Dark walls of cheap apartment blocks stood close here and only a few shabby cars were parked on the curb. The only sound next to the sizzling of the rain was the water gargling in the gutter, floating through worn out gratings into the darkness of the canalization.
Peter, shivering with his jacket and boots already drenched from the downpour, held his backpack close and pressed himself into a gateway to avoid getting any more soaked. He had no idea where he was and where he should go.
The gang had chased him for two blocks. Maybe they were after his sparse belongings, maybe they just wanted to beat someone up. He didn’t know. But they deprived him of his sleeping space for the night and now he was not only exhausted and hungry but also wet. He hadn’t felt very good in the first place, but now his mind was starting to get dizzy, his vision blurring on the edges.
He still panted in heavy thrusts, not able to gain his breath back properly. He felt… hot. Like a fever. A cough settled in his throat and he couldn’t get rid of it. Since the run he felt a heavy pressure on his chest. He swiped his stained sleeve over his heated face.
Maybe this was it.
He couldn’t run any longer.
Over the summer it had been manageable. Even good sometimes, since he had the chance to let go. Living on the streets provided a lot of opportunities to forget what had happened. Cheap booze, the constant need to get enough money, looking for safe places to shower and clean his clothes. The other homeless and their tales that almost gave him the feeling that his story was just something… ordinary. To have nothing left in regard of belongings and goods helped with letting other… things… go.
Or so he hoped.
But now that November slowly reached its end it was undeniable that this kind of life was dissimilar harder in the cold season.
Peter’s hideout the last couple of weeks had been an abandoned wreck of a house, burned-out and moist, cold dampness creeping into his bones when he rested there.
‘Better than this ’ he thought, watching the dark street that was devoid of any living being. But the gang of youngsters had decided to mash up some derelict – and found him.
Peter felt his mind fraying. Maybe this was it indeed.
Coming home.
He closed his eyes.
***
He woke and felt hot.
So, so hot.
His body was burning and he felt that he could not draw breath.
A blanket was drawn over him. He could feel the fabric on his heated skin.
Something cool pressed on his side, tall and solid.
Another person?
His scattered brain was not able to comprehend.
Cool dampness caressed his face, his lips. Then a sip of a drink that soothed his burning throat. He trashed a bit but could not free his mind from the fever induced confusion and slowly he sank back into the numbness.
***
The next time Peter came back to his senses he felt slightly better. A bit more in control. Dehydrated and exhausted as if he had been running for days, but the fever had been broken. He was still ill, but not delirious anymore. He could even breathe a little better, albeit it still felt as if someone sat on his chest. He still wore only his underwear and was tucked in under a blanket. The atmosphere was quiet.
It was nauseating to try to get up. His elbows were refusing to lift him, his eyes looking around trying to focus on the blur that was this room.
“Hello?” he coughed, squeezing his eyes closed, fighting with the blanket in an attempt to get rid of it.
A soft noise was coming from his other side. Someone was waking up. The only light in the room was gloomy daylight that made it through a holey drawn curtain. Peter got aware that he was lying on a broad mattress that was almost on ground level but nevertheless covered with clean sheets.
Peter's body refused to stand up, he was to wake and the room started to spin around him as he tried.
“Hello?” he croaked again, rubbing his face in his palms as he was about to faint. He laid his body back to the old mattress, zooming in on the soiled ceiling. In his mind the thought ‘ what the fuck?’ went round and round.
“Hey…” a tired soft voice sounded next to him. ”Relax… It's barely noon. I need some sleep.”
When Peter turned his head he recognized that he was in bed with a young man, maybe two or three years older than him, who looked at him with hooded green eyes. He yawned and stretched and Peter saw that he was naked, as far as he could see.
“Or are you hungry? Thirsty? I can get you something… “ he sat up and looked at Peter, carding his curly, shoulder-long dark hair out of his face.
Peter didn’t jump up even if he was in the state of mind to do so. What he did was take the sheets and cover his body up in the best way that he could as he pushed himself away from the other, almost falling to the floor.
“Who-” Peter tried to say but was so sick he could hardly speak. “Where is this? Who are you?” he tried, still having difficulty to focus his gaze on the person next to him.
The person's eyes grew slightly wider and he held up one hand.
“Hey don't worry. Nothing happened to you. You had a fever and I took you in. Nothing to worry about.” Peter could see goosebumps in the others arms and now he felt it too. The room was cold and he was not laying under one but three blankets and some sweatshirts.
The person got up and covered their body with a worn out fluffy bathrobe in dark red, shuffling through the dim room. A tap started running. Next thing Peter became aware of was a glass of water at his lips.”Here. You sweated like a pig, you need to stay hydrated…”
At the word pig Peter’s eyebrows came together, like he took offense, even though it wasn’t stated in such a way. Then he reached for the glass, taking it away from the other’s hand. “I can do it myself” he said in a grumpy way but before he drank from it he paused.
“Thanks.” he murmured like saying this word was a chore.
The boy, or young man, in front of him grinned and shook his hair back. “Now got over to your side and let me have a little more rest, will you? I could really use another hour of napping.” he pushed the bathrobe down and crept into bed next to Peter, nuzzling under the covers until only his nose was visible.
Peter wasn’t done, not at all. He grabbed the other’s shoulder to turn him, at the same time he pulled on some hair but that was an accident.
“Who the fuck are you?” he questioned, taking in the other’s face, perhaps they knew each other, he thought.
The young man jerked upright, swatting Peter's hand away.
“Stop that!” he had been truly shocked for a second but relaxed again. “Sorry. My name is Loki. And I'm the fuck the one who thought that letting you rot on the street was a bad thing to do, so I dragged you up here. You're free to go but if you stay, shut up please.” he laid down again, his back to Peter.
Peter took his hand away and dropped next to him in silence. Beggars can't be choosers, he knew that by now, and this place was so much better than the street. So Peter closed his eyes again, he didn’t intend to fall asleep but he was exhausted and drifted off before he could think about anything else.
***
The next time Peter woke he felt better. It was brighter and the fever was on a level that allowed him to think. The other side of the coin was that he was coughing and sniffing and had a headache, typical signs of a subsiding cold. A mug of cold tea waited next to the mattress and on a plate with a small crack rested a sandwich. The room, a shaby one room apartment, was empty, but he saw his own clothes drying on a rack.
His throat was so dry, and his body so wasted. The only feeling that traveled up and down on him was ugh , and he grunted as much when he picked himself up from the mattress. Then he looked at the liquid and reached to grab it, almost losing his balance. He drank it without stopping, and that wasn’t the best decision but he was so thirsty he could die.
Peter wobbled over to the drying rack, checking the clothes for any dampness.
They were still a little wet and when he reached the rack he felt like toppling over from coughing. Then he noted that a small heater was doing his best to keep the room at a nice temperature and a stack of clothes that doesn’t belong to him was sitting on the foot of the makeshift bed. He also noticed that the mattress rested on a slat frame to keep it from getting cold on the floor. The rest of the apartment was a worn out two-seater couch in front of a old tube tv, a pantry kitchen with a folding table and two high chairs, the cupboards filled to the brim with stuff, a wardrobe and a sideboard, the rack and and an green rug. Everything looked second hand and very much used, clothes were scattered around along other stuff everywhere.
No, Peter wasn’t gonna wear damp clothes, even if his cold was slowly subsiding. He prefered to wrap a sheet around him than to worsen his condition. Then he took a look around, observing the rundown room and making a small, unimpressed, tired frown. But, it soon turned upwards to form a weak smile. The boy searched around, slowly scavenging for clothes that were dry, it didn’t matter in the slightest if they could fit him or not. The stack on the end of the bed had been obviously prepared for him it seemed. Underwear and socks, sweats and a shirt, complimented by a worn out cardigan that seemed to have belonged to an older woman but was warm and comfy.
Peter was relieved to cover up his body, the warm feeling of clean clothes was so rare that it made his face light up with a smile. It was good to not have to look at his bony figure anymore as well, so he dressed up and took the sandwich with him as he sat on the couch.
It took some time since Peter was groggy but then he was there, on the couch, his empty stomach filling with urgently needed food. No sandwich had ever tasted better. He stayed there, munching away in silence. The only sound was his jaw coming together with every bite. As he ate he was looking around, taking in with curiosity the details and items that laid around in the apartment. It was obvious that the person who lived here didn’t have much and the little that they possessed was very much used. Still the room had a cozy atmosphere. He hardly remembered the person who brought him here, all lost in the fever.
While he munched away, cautious of his sore throat, the lock on the door clicked with a key.
The young man - Loki - entered, his hands full with two brown bags from a grocery store, trying to close the door with his knee. His hair was under a hood of a black sweater and he wore a dark green leather short-coat above it, dripping with rain. His tight black jeans ended in worn out doc martens.
Peter had food in his mouth, but that didn’t matter to him as he spoke “Good sandwich” while lifting what little remained in his hand towards Loki. He was sitting with his legs on the couch, looking like a ball. “Still raining?” he continued once he had swallowed.
Loki looked over his shoulder and smiled when he saw Peter sitting up. Dark eyeliner was smudged around his eyes and got a bit in disarray because of the weather.
“Yeah, like hell. Will be snow soon I bet…”
He let the bags full of goods slide on the first available space in the kitchen and started to put away what must been stored in the fridge and such.
“I got us some noodles. Do you eat meat?” he asked, looking at the expiration date of a can he took from the cupboard, before putting more of the stuff he bought, away.
Peter couldn’t but laugh at that.
“You got stuff for me?” he questioned while finishing up his meal. This person wasn’t rich, he wasn’t even doing okay regarding his finance, so generosity shouldn’t come easy to him, that’s what crossed Peter’s mind.
“No?” Loki turned around, raising his eyebrow. “For us.” he stated and turned, shrugging out of his coat to hang it next to the door. “Needed supplies anyways.”
He got rid of his boots too and plodded over to Peter, touching his forehead with his hand while staying one arm-length away from him. This Loki was taller than Peter and slim but fit, Peter could see it in the way he moved. Like a dancer.
“You’re still very hot. You should stay in bed for a day or two…” he seemed honestly concerned.
“You don’t need to do that” Peter said as he pushed the others hand away, his eyes turned to the other side. Peter’s grumpiness and soreness were making him seem ungrateful- “Thanks for the food” he added trying to push this thought out of his mind “But you don’t have to give me any more.”
Loki sighed. Then he sat next to Peter on the couch, leaning back and stretching his legs out.
“Too bad, now that I bought the shit…” he said and closed his eyes. Silence enfolded. Peter fidgeted. But then he became aware that Loki obviously had fallen asleep.
Peter observed him with curiosity. He was.. kind and considerate towards him.
He nudged him, not really trying to wake him up, it was more to make sure that he was asleep. Then he got up, looked by the bags of food to see what the other brought. It didn’t matter that it was rude to search Loki’s things, Peter did so anyway.
Loki opened one eye and smiled at the boy in his so called kitchen and relaxed. Street kids didn’t have an easy lot and Peter could be anything from 14 to 18. Hard to guess with how skinny and pale he was.
After some time Loki stretched again and switched on the TV to a random show that would play in the background. He got up and went to the tiny bathroom.
“I guess you could need a shower. Feel free but the pink towel is mine and everybody who uses it will be skinned alive.” he winked and closed the door.
Peter wasn’t one to be told what he needed or didn’t need to do. But he had been sweating a lot, and the smell wasn’t the best... he surely could do without it. Perhaps he could consider taking a shower.. perhaps. But he wouldn’t be staying for that long, or was Loki planning on having a homeless person as a roommate? Peter knocked on the bathroom door.
“Do i-” he started saying but then stopped. He removed himself from that spot and sat on the couch, waiting for Loki to come back out.
The flush sounded through the thin door and Loki went out. He looked at Peter curiously. “There is shampoo and stuff in there. Do you have your own toothbrush? I think I have a spare one somewhere.” he looked around and scratched his head. His problems and concerns seemed to be different from any other person Peter knew.
Peter didn’t get up, he just tilted his head
“Why do you even care?” he let out calmly and if that sounded rude or insensitive the boy wouldn’t know. “How come you letting me in your house like this?”
“Isn’t my house” Loki answered in this irritating way of his but added “just my apartment.” Then he looked at Peter and shrugged. “I don’t know. You seemed to need a bed and some sleep. And now you reek like you need a shower and a toothbrush. I just go with the flow.”
He went to the kitchen and put out cooking utensils.
Loki was strange, Peter couldn’t read him, but then Peter couldn’t read most of people, so that was to be expected.
“So..” Peter dragged his voice as the other moved away. He got up and followed. “I stay? I go?” he asked, thinking that he should take this opportunity to take a shower at the very least. “I can brush with my fingers” he added, answering to Loki’s previous question.
“It’s up to you, not-a-name-yet.” Loki turned around and tossed him a new and still wrapped toothbrush with a smile. “Take that. It’s easier and was on discount anyway.” He turned to the kitchen again. “So, is meat okay or not? Any allergies?” he asked, starting to boil some water.
He was surprised with Loki’s words, Loki was a surprising individual all together. Peter pressed his lips together, overlooking from behind what Loki was doing with curiosity.
“Mhm” he agreed with what the other said, even though agreeing didn’t make much of a sense. “Meat’s good” he added, of course he hadn’t eaten meat in so long he wouldn’t pass on it now, no way.
The ‘meat” was in fact a small frozen block of cheap mince that Loki turned into a bolognaise that was surprisingly tasty - but again, Peter was so hungry that he would have found a lot of things tasty. After his shower they eat in front of the TV, Loki watching interested how a burly man explained how a wooden house was to be grounded.
Loki made him some more tea and napped after eating - the guy seemed to be always tired.
As Peter was feeling better by the hour he felt much more energetic, and Loki’s state came in contrast with what he would expect from another person who wasn’t sick. He nudged at him as he slept
“Are you ok?” he asked but the other didn’t listen.
Peter was cleaned and fed. Protected from the hazardous weather and treated. He was sick still, but he could be dead as far as he knew if it wasn’t for Loki. The door was there, he could leave. But why in the world would he do that. “do you need something?” he continued talking to Loki, perhaps feeling that he should give back to him. As the other didn’t respond Peter walked over to the mattress and laid down. Some more sleep would be good for him.