Sanctuary - 6. Chapter 6 - Hel

“You’re gonna leave me alone here, with him?” Hel sneered, his nose wrinkled at the prospect, “can’t I come with you?”

“No, Hel…” Aki sighed, running his fingers through his hair for what the boy had counted as the fifth time since he’d come downstairs. “I have to go to work. I should have left already.”

“But-?”

“You thought I just sat around my house waiting for distressed supernaturals to drop in and eat all my food?” Aki smiled at him, “Sorry to disappoint you, bud.”

Hel shifted uncomfortably, picking at the hem of his t-shirt. The idea of being stuck inside with nothing to do for another whole day was boring, but the prospect of sharing it with Ishca made him nervous. The dark haired, pale skinned man had assured him that he couldn’t see inside Hel’s mind, but Hel wasn’t fully inclined to trust him. He had lain under the covers in the bed Aki had given him, and tried not to hear the noises of Aki and Ishca as they’d come upstairs together. All evening the boy had been aware of a soft pinkish flavour in the air, but it wasn’t until Aki’s door slammed shut to the sound of Ishca’s giggle that he’d realised what it meant.

“I want to come with you.”

Aki just shook his head again, and Hel knew it was useless to argue with him. He watched the man who’d rescued him shrug into his coat and pull on a pair of slightly dilapidated work boots, brushing his fingers on his jeans.

“I’ll go shopping on the way home, OK? I’m sure you’ll have demolished most of the kitchen cupboards by then.” His hand was on the doorknob when Hel fled the kitchen table for the hallway and clutched at the hem of his coat. “Hel?”

“Don’t leave me here with him.”

Aki smiled and shook his head.

“Ishca’s a good guy. I promise.”

He might have been ‘good’ but Hel didn’t see him for most of the morning. Apparently alone in the house, the boy rifled through the cupboards, locating cookies, chocolate, toast, jam, and a two litre bottle of cola, and assembled an entire tray of goodies which he transferred to the living room. Aki had a television, though Hel hadn’t seen it switched on, and after ten minutes of hunting, he found the remote and settled down to surf through the channels. The whole time, he expected to see his face flash up on the screen, some news bulletin saying he was still missing, some tearful heartfelt plea from his foster parents, but there was nothing, and Hel ate his smorgasbord of snacks without tasting anything.

No one cared about teenage runaways: especially teenage runaways from foster families. All his life Hel had heard about people being lost in ‘the system’, and sitting on Aki’s living room carpet, he realised he was now one of them. There wouldn’t be anyone looking for him, he doubted that by now any of his friends would still miss him, except in passing thought, and Hel realised whatever had happened, there was no way back for him now. Wherever home was, it wasn’t the house he’d grown up in.

He was getting fidgety, and bored with the television, by the time there was noise and movement from upstairs. He hadn’t spent two whole days indoors in as long as he could remember, and now that his stomach was full and happy, Hel wanted to go for a run. He loved sports, which was what he’d found on the television, and the idea of not being fit enough to play or strong enough to last a match made his brain itch. Hel knew other people viewed sports as something to be avoided at all costs, but to Hel there were few better pass times than going for a run, kicking a ball about the park all afternoon and sneaking into the school gym to lift weights for half an hour. He wondered vaguely if any sports centres near Aki’s house would let him in, then realised it wouldn’t matter, because he had no money and one set of borrowed clothes which he was already wearing. Paired with the mess of his hair and his too-skinny physique, there was nothing about him which was suitable for public consumption.

“Hey there, pup.”

Hel whipped around in surprise, and instantly stepped back from the figure of Ishca, bumping against the mantelpiece. The man was wearing nothing but a towel turned into a sarong, and he was standing very close. Hel was shocked someone could creep up on him so well without him noticing. He gulped, distracted by Ishca’s nearness and the expanse of his naked flesh.

“Good morning to you too; you OK?”

“Um…”

“Aki went to work?” Ishca stepped around him and began to style his hair in the mirror with his fingers. “This whole getting up in the morning thing is gonna take some getting used to. Is there any breakfast; or did you eat it all?”

“Ishca?” Hel glanced the man up and down, taking in his appearance properly for the first time. There was no doubt that despite showing up the previous evening looking a bit dishevelled, Ishca knew how to look after himself. He was lean, but not without some muscle tone, and as far as Hel could see, and he could see more than he was really comfortable with, completely shaved from the eyebrows down. Ishca met his gaze in the mirror as he turned his post-shower damp hair into an actual style with about as much effort as it took Hel to run three laps of the school field. And he was gay. All the TV dramas in the world agreed gay people knew about how to look good. The boy swallowed nervously. “Can you help me?”

Ishca arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, and grinned.

“More than you know.”

*

By the time Hel was finished with his shower, Ishca was half dressed in skinny black jeans, and standing in front of the television with a bowl of cereal. He was watching the news.

“Did you run away too?”

“No; I got kicked out,” Ishca shrugged, like it didn’t mean anything, “not that I would have stayed with him forever anyway.” He exhaled sharply, “I have this awful feeling Aki’s gonna make me get a job…. Right! Let’s deal with you then shall we?” Ishca reached out and took a piece of Hel’s slightly matted hair between two fingers. “And none too soon either. Sit.”

Hel sat in a chair at the kitchen table with a towel over his shoulders and let Ishca fuss with him. The empath had a very soft touch, and Hel was surprised how easy it was to relax in his presence. Aki didn’t own any hair scissors, which wasn’t particularly surprising, and Ishca used a combination of the ones from the kitchen and a pair of tiny nail scissors to deal with the mess that was Hel’s hair.

“I can’t promise it’ll look like it did before. A three month gap where there should have been combing will do its damage.” Ishca’s voice was like honey, sweet and smooth, but sort of sticky. Hel had the feeling that the man was putting a lot of effort into sounding normal. “So I’m guessing you were one of those clean-cut sporty kids?”

“How’d you know?” Hell frowned to himself.

“Like I said, I guessed.”

“Um, yeah.” Hel closed his fingers around his wrist, trying not to move his head too much as Ishca began to take sections of hair between his fingers and slice them off: never before had he been skinny enough to wrap his digits almost double around himself. “I was cricket team captain. And I played rugby, and football,” the boy sighed, “I miss running.”

“Haven’t you done enough of that to last a lifetime?”

“Running for fun isn’t like running away,” Hel quipped, and then stopped himself, “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Try not to feel guilty for every mistake you make,” Ishca squeezed his shoulder briefly, “or you’ll feel crap pretty much all the time. C’mon, tell me about this whole ‘cricket’ thing. I never did understand the rules.”

Hel started from the beginning, because it took less than a sentence to establish that Ishca thought cricket and baseball were basically the same sport, and Hel needed to spend a decent amount of time explaining to him exactly why he was wrong. After a while, once Hel had progressed to discussing the complex minutiae of the scoring system, he realised having his hair cut by Aki was actually the nicest thing he’d felt in a long time – even before the first time he had… separated from his body. The man’s fine fingers stroking through the shorter, untangled strands of his hair made him want to close his eyes and relax, and Hel didn’t realise he’d been making a rumbling purring noise in his chest until he stopped. Ishca completed another snip with the scissors, and petted Hel’s hair with a smile in the mirror.

“There, you look great bud. Now if only we could find you replacements for those awful hand-me-downs Aki calls clothes.”

“I thought you liked him?” Hel frowned. Judging by the hot lustful scent he’d sensed at the sounds of x-rated pleasure which had leaked from Aki’s bedroom, Ishca and Aki did more than just ‘like’ each other.

“Well sure,” Ishca shrugged, like it was nothing, “doesn’t mean his dress sense is anything less than terrible though.”

“At least neither of us looks like a vampire fan-boy,” Hel remarked with a sneer. For a moment he wondered if Ishca was about to snap at him, or slice his scalp open with the scissors, but he just exhaled dismissively and continued to trim Hel’s hair.

“Oh like you would have any idea how to impress a vampire?” Ishca bent to examine the back of his neck. “They are fussy bastards, as a rule. I suppose if you hang around them long enough you get very picky about what you like.”

Hel blinked, and then stared at his hands. Vampires. Ishca had replied so flippantly, so easily, and Hel couldn’t really believe what he’d heard.

“Vampires?”

“Yeah?” Ishca didn’t pause.

“Vampires are real?”

“Yeah kid, a whole bunch of stuff humans think they made up are plenty real – and plenty more besides; just look at you.”

“W-what?” Hel gulped nervously, “what about me?” The boy clenched his fingers into a fist in his lap, newly clipped fingernails digging into his skin. Pins and needles spread through his hands, and Hel’s teeth clacked together as he shivered. “I’m just…”

“Hey, calm down buddy,” Ishca’s voice was like oil over the troubled waters of his anxiety, “everything’s all right. It’s just a haircut.”

“But…” Hel blinked half a dozen times, trying to clear his vision. Everything had gone hazy, colours washing out with every breath, and he was shaking. “I’m human too…”

The moment he said it, Hel knew it was a lie. There was something wrong with him: more wrong than just the way he’d wanted to hit the unreactive kid in the school playing field. Ishca was trying to pretend everything was alright, but Hel could feel his heart beat speeding up until he could no longer distinguish one moment from the next. Ishca placed his hand on Hel’s shoulder, and the boy whined as he watched his body crumple.

“Oh Christ!” Ishca dropped the scissors, almost stabbing his foot.

The slim man managed to insert his hand between Hel’s temple and table top before Hel would have been on the receiving end of another severe headache. Hel was briefly grateful, but he still pushed his muzzle against his own shin, wishing that instead of just passing through the shadow of his body, he could somehow be reabsorbed into his skin. But it didn’t work, and Hel whined in frustration. After two minutes of staring at his own socked feet and Ishca’s bare toes, Hel knew he couldn’t stay there forever.

The wolf slunk out from underneath the table, ears pressed back against his skull. Ishca smiled softly down at him.

“Oh buddy… you’re a long way from being human.”