Marcus stood in the doorframe to the entrance of his house and stared, deep in his thoughts down the long and dusty hallway. The air outside chilled him, and he shuddered slightly, taking a limping step inside. Two and a half weeks had passed, and his wound just now had begun to numb, and he could feel nothing until he set his foot down and laid his weight on it, which he carefully avoided doing. It was normal for him to feel down on rainy days, but as each day passed, his mind fogged up with cloudy skies and downpours that  showered and poured down his tear stained cheeks. He looked down, staring at his dirt ridden palms. Marcus told his sister he would be right back, he just had to take a quick trip to the restroom. They were spending a chilly and rainy afternoon in the fortress she had built into the cleared out shed by the barn. He could still see himself curled up with a blanket and a sketchbook in there with Regan's company. He had to stay within the premises of his house in order to not wander into another trap, a strict rule his parents required him to follow. They clearly didn't trust him. It was a privilege to be trusted, and he had lost it. Quiet as usual, he trudged slowly over to the base of the steps, and soon met his gaze in the mirror, partially frosted over. It got cold up there. Marcus shivered and trembled a bit, pressing his back up against the bathroom wall. He dusted off his hands, looking closely at his features in the mirror, placing a hand on his cheek. It was warm. He gave himself a gentle smile before twisting one of the metal faucet handles. The water that poured out froze to the touch, and he jerked his hand away , letting out a shaky breath. He needed to clean his hands. He couldn't think about being cold. It only reminded him that he needed-. Marcus pumped out a bit of soap and ran water over his hands, rubbing them in as he paid close attention to the crevices in his skin. He cupped the water in his hands, splashing it into his face to remove dirt. Marcus spat out a bit of water, then patted his face dry with a towel. He placed it on the edge of the sink and peered into the mirror to gaze at himself, drifting far into his thoughts. He had to keep going. Marcus blinked, his hand moving up a bit and forward to place it on the mirror, watching his reflection do the same. He gifted himself a small, trembling smile as he slid his hand off to his side. He couldn't think about him now. Not now. "It'll be okay." Marcus whispered to himself, wanting to believe it. His lips began to quiver as he blinked rapidly to keep from crying. He dropped to his knees and hid his face in his hands, crying softly, but sobbing deeply as he kneeled there on the bathroom floor. 

Marcus trudged back to the shed, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, shivering a bit as he walked, barefoot across the lawn towards the small open structure a few paces from the barn. It was midday, and he was feeling miserably tired, losing more hours of sleep each night he slept. A good night's rest was something he needed desperately. He pushed away a curtain  of blankets and sheets as he stepped inside, taking in the scent of freshly dried lavender hung up around the room. It soothed him and he closed his eyes for a moment, nearly losing himself. His sister had redesigned the place and made a workspace out of the shed, adding a set of Christmas lights that strung up around the room, and a large amount of pillows and blankets. She had a small desk and a side lamp in case she wanted to stay up a bit during the night out there. Marcus had always been welcome, but hadn't really regulated his visits  up until about a week ago. Regan set down her chapter book and stood. He gave her a small smile, the sort of smile that masked the way he really felt. The smell of rain usually brought a smile to his lips, but this grin was deliberately forced. He took a seat on a cushion and felt the small drops of rain dry on his hair and his clothes and his skin. This would be considered a rather lovely afternoon. He would be sitting in his bed, reading, writing or drawing with a toasty warm mug of tea. He tried to make himself cozy, leaning up against the wall, pulling a small knitted wool blanket over his lap. All the windows to the shed were opened, letting in a soft, chilly breeze and the soft sound of the drizzling rain. "That boy. Were you friends with him?" Marcus brought his focus away from his notebook and brushed a few curly hairs out of his face, feeling a bit irritated when they fell back into his eyes. Regan took a seat next to him, giving him a concerned look. Marcus nodded slowly and scribbled something into the margins of his notebook. "I deserve love too." his sister didn't see this. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Why am I not good enough?" a tear ran down his face as a memory floated to the surface of his mind's eye. 

Marcus was hidden behind a tree. He sniffled and peered around, looking down at his hands to see the blood that dried on his palms. Jay had told him to hide, and he did, sinking to the forest floor, sniffling and crying quietly.

"Jay...!" He was asleep.  He didn't know it yet, but he whimpered, twisting in his bed. 

Marcus raised his palm to wipe the flow of blood from just above his brow on his forehead. He was bleeding. Profusely. Jay had left him. Told him to hide there. He stood, his head dropping as he cried out for his friend, a pair of feet appearing in front of him as he fell into a familiar grasp. He closed his eyes, taking in his scent as he laid his forehead on his chest, their minds and bodies flowing through time as they fell into darkness, landing on a soft, bed cushion in the warm company of his home. The room was lit by the soft glow of a small blazing fire in the fireplace of the living room. Marcus, still afraid, clutched the collar of Jay's jacket, not noticing where he was. Jay soothed him into reality and slunk silently over to the warm hearth, bringing Marcus along in a coaxing bridle hold. His helpless, small body went numb as he held, tighter still to the grasp of Jay's body, never wanting to let go, because if he did, he was sure he would plunge into a pit of lonely silence. He held on for dear life. "I want you to open your eyes."

Marcus shifted in his sleep. He was finding himself in a calm and content hour of rest. His heart burned with comfort and a new dawning. He breathed deeply and slept soundly, feeling those arms carry him into a different warmth. 

His heartbeat. Marcus laid his head there for a moment, not bothering to grasp anymore as he felt his hands slipping. He kept his eyes closed. Listened. Waited. The harsh cracking of the fire died, and he breathed. Slowly. In and out until all that was left was Jay's heartbeat. He could hear Jay's voice. Faint. It happened gradually, but he eventually blinked his eyes open, meeting Jay's dark brown gaze. Marcus let go, and could almost feel himself falling off that edge into a pit of despair- but he was saved, two strong hands grabbing his cheeks to meet his touch and close the gap, allowing it to fill with the sweet and gentle taste of tender love.

He woke up. Marcus peered around the quiet living room and brought a hand up to his mouth. All alone. It was only a dream. His eyes welled up with tears as all the good feelings drained away. Only a dream…

A chill ran through his body. His sister had brought him his winter hat, and he pulled it over his hair, hugging his aching stomach as he bit back a whimper. He wasn't hungry. Well...maybe he skipped lunch but this wasn't hunger he was feeling. Maybe it was the loss of sleep…? No. Marcus had begun a short story in his notebook. He didn't know whether it was a summary of his relationship with Jay, or his feelings for him, because if it was feelings, it would be immeasurable trust. He knew Jay would protect him. But he left. The story was of being let down by a friend. His only protector. The ache in his stomach lingered a bit, and his heart fluttered in his chest at just the thought of being in the arms of his protector. 

He was my protector.

He wrote this to conclude his short story.