Connor hated shopping. The whole process was dumb. He had to grab a cart and wander the aisles because he never remembered where anything was. Milk was all the way on one side of the store and bread was on the other. Fucking stupid!

He hated the crowds and long lines. He hated making small talk with the cashier. He hated the screaming kids, the annoying florescent lights, and the so-called super sales on overpriced junk.

Grocery shopping was a nightmare, but he trudged through the glossy hellhole, grabbing the basics. Lots of instant and frozen foods, pop and junk items.

He was no chef, that was for sure.

Once it was finally time to check out, Connor used his debit card. He’d chosen to come to the closest store to the trailer, which happened to be known for their terrible prices. He cringed when the chatty cashier read off his total somewhere between commenting on the weather and on her tough Biopsych class.

He had 10 bucks in his savings account at the moment, he was broke as shit. He just made a payment on his student loans and he’d also had to replace the tires on the Honda. The tread had been dangerously worn.

He hadn’t planned on spending extra on groceries this week and he grumbled a little as he paid. He stuffed his purchases into the cart as the woman waiting behind him, flanked by her two bratty kids, tapped her foot. She leaned impatiently into her overloaded shopping cart.

“Have a great day!” the cashier, a young-looking girl with mousy brown hair said as he started to shuffle off, but Connor suddenly stomped on the brakes.

“Um, hey,” he said. The two kids behind their impatient mother had started poking each other with Slim Jim’s. The woman didn’t even glance behind her. She nudged her cart forward a little, nearly clipping Connor’s ankle. He shifted away from the woman’s cart, fighting a murderous scowl. He didn’t leave his spot in front of the cashier though.

“Yes, is there something else I can help you with?” The mousy girl behind the counter fluttered her eyelashes.

“Yeah, ah, what’s your favorite candy?”

“Oh!” the mousy girl pursed her glossy lips. “Why do you ask?”

Connor frowned. This girl must be slow. What was with all the faces? “Because. I don’t know which candy to get my friend. He doesn’t know what he likes.”

The girl made a strange expression, her flirtiness dropping in an instant. “What? Hasn’t he ever had candy before?”

The lady with the kids sighed again, checking her phone for the time. Fucking impatient cunt.

“Well, I guess it has to be Butterfingers,” the cashier said. “Or maybe Twix, I don’t know. What do you think?”

Connor didn’t think anything. He reached back to the little candy display, to the left of the cashier and grabbed a mega Butterfinger bar. He yanked his wallet out again, and nearly dropped his phone. He tucked the Galaxy under his chin, jerked two bucks out of his wallet – there was only one dollar left now – and slapped the cash on the counter.

Eyeing him with suspicion, the cashier took his money and handed him back a handful of change.

Connor took it, balled the change into his fist and he hurried out of the store.

When Connor reached the Honda, he shoved the bags into the back. His skin felt tight and he was sweating through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. There was a man, all in black, standing behind the cart coral just staring.

The hair on the back of Connor’s neck stood up, but he ignored the guy and hurried himself to empty the cart. He wasn’t approaching the coral, though. He finished with the groceries, then left the cart in the empty space beside him.

Connor hopped in the car and tore out of the parking lot, fleeing the supermarket and the creepy man in black. He didn’t relax until the store was well in his rearview mirror.

The little town he drove through was pleasant for the most part. It was full of cute, well-to-do family houses with green lawns and children’s toys strewn about. He went the long way through the worst part of town which consisted of cheap, shitty apartments. The projects more or less. The college kids, who went to the same college Connor had dropped out of, the one Hannah was getting her masters at, liked to live in them too because of the low rent.

Connor sneered as he went through the area. He would have lived here if he wasn’t so fond of being alone and unbothered. There was a group of cop cars stationed outside one of the apartments. It looked like something big was going on. Whatever was going on, it would probably be on the news later. He always hated delivering to these shitty apartments, because the kids sucked and the families on welfare never gave much in tips.

He made a left, went through another crappy neighborhood, this one full of duplexes and then made a right down Woods Trail. It was another two miles of bumpy road before he reached the turnoff to this trailer. It was only then, once he’d hit the gravel, that he felt his shoulders completely untense. Honestly, it wasn’t just the act of shopping, he just generally hated being around people.

He parked the car right up against the trailer’s front end and quickly gathered up the groceries. He tucked the candy bar under his arm before going up to the door.

“M,” he called through the screen and instantly the kid showed up, his eyes wide and expectant.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, smiling at him through the screen.

“Open the damned door,” Connor demanded. “I’m carrying groceries.”

M fumbled with the latch. Connor waited impatiently, but luckily, it only took a couple seconds for M to figure it out and he held the door open.

Connor went to directly to the kitchen, passing M with the barest of glances. The TV blared stupid cartoons out in the living room while Connor put the food away. He was annoyed and wanted to turn it off, but he tried to calm himself and just put up with it.

When Connor finished, M stood near the door. He’d let the screen door shut, but he’d made no move to shut the main door. His eyes were fixed on the TV screen, on the cartoon channel Connor had put on before he left, and he was obviously just as transfixed.

Connor came into the living room with the overly sweet, highly overpriced candy in his hand. “You can sit down,” he said and immediately M sank down to the floor, his t-shirt bunching up around his thighs. His eyes didn’t leave the colorful, action packed cartoon for a second.

Connor sighed and came to kneel next to the kid. “I got you some candy,” he said, instantly feeling stupid because he was totally pacifying the kid and for no reason either. Maybe there was a reason, though. When Connor had turned the TV on initially, M had hid behind Connor, afraid, clutching him around the waist. But as Connor had explained what the TV was, M had trusted him. He’d come out of hiding and stared with fascination.

There was something strangely attractive about being able to introduce M to new things. And everything was new to him. Connor hadn’t wanted M to stay to begin with, but honestly, he was kind of enjoying it. Connor was disenchanted with the world, with people, but M was so very different. Being with him was refreshing.

M finally stopped staring at the TV screen. “I saw something about candy on the TV,” he said. “It looked like little colorful rocks. A box full of them. Some kids were eating them and they said they were sweet and sour.”

Connor snorted. “Well, I got you a Butterfinger. It’s all sweet.”

“But what is sour?” M asked, scrunching his nose up. “Is it the same as those pepper things from last night?”

“No. Maybe I’ll get you a box of Nerds some time, just try this,” Connor said, ripping the Butterfinger open.

M’s nose scrunched up again and he eyed the candy bar with suspicion. “But that looks like that brown thing that came out of my butt last night,” he said. “When Hannah had me use the toilet.”

Connor snorted. “It looks like shit?”

“Is that what it’s called? Hannah said it was poop.”

“Oh my god,” Connor hadn’t even thought to take the kid to the bathroom. He hoped he hadn’t pissed or shit anywhere. “Trust me. It’s not poop,” he said. “It’s chocolate. It just also happens to be brown.”

“Well, ok.” M said happily, turning more fully to face him.

“You know when to use the bathroom, right?” Connor asked, feeling awkward as he held the chocolate bar between them.

“Yes. Hannah showed me how. She didn’t want to look but she stayed in the room with me,” M said. “I used it again when you were gone.”

Connor felt a strange pang of jealousy, and not because Hannah had been looking at another guy; it was because she’d been looking at this one in particular. He cleared his throat. “Good. Enough about shit, then. Just try the candy. Take a little bite.” He held the bar as M opened his mouth. It was the same as before, feeding the kid. If he’d been able to shit on his own, why couldn’t he figure out how to eat? Connor wondered, but he didn’t really mind too much. His eyes were helplessly fixated on M’s pink lips. They were gorgeous, especially once they wrapped around the extended bar of chocolate.

M took a bite and immediately his eyes rolled back into his head and he hummed loudly. “It’s so good!” he cried and then started bouncing, clapping his hands even. He chewed messily, with his mouth open and he started to giggle.

Reality popped Connor’s bubble in an instant… “Here,” he handed the candy bar over and got up. He went to sit on the couch, getting his phone out, hoping to distract himself with his news feeds.

He felt very odd all of a sudden. M was acting like a child. There he sat, candy in hand, some dumb cartoon on TV, deep in bliss from the simple items. Looking at him, enjoying him in any way was wrong and Connor berated himself until he couldn’t look at the kid anymore. All thoughts of enjoying M’s company, his unsolicited stay, vanished and Connor’s discomfort grew as he watched the boy thoroughly enjoy his chocolate bar.

“Thanks Connor!”

“Don’t mention it,” he said awkwardly and buried himself further into his news feeds. He couldn’t wait to get away from the blond boy and the stupid temptation of him. When Hannah came over tomorrow, he figured he should press the issue of going to the police again. He thought it over, staring vaguely at his phone and at the boring news stories…

He must have passed out at some point because when he looked up next the sun was going down and M was looking back at him, shifting impatiently on the floor.

“What?” Connor grunted, sitting up straight.

“I think I’m hungry again,” M said and Connor immediately got up to make something to eat.

Chicken nuggets with some dipping sauce from work, he decided, would be easy enough. He grabbed the nuggets out of the freezer and ripped the bag open. He spread the breaded chicken out on a cookie sheet and as he did that, M came in to watch him.

“Do you want to do something useful?” Connor asked.

“Yes!”

“Cool. Come over here.”

Kids did chores, right? That was normal. Connor led M over to the sink. The two cereal bowls from that morning were sitting in the basin.

“I’m going to teach you how to wash dishes. It’s important, if you want to eat. You use plates and bowls and silverware and if you don’t clean up after yourself, you have to live in dirt. And then you don’t have anything to eat off of.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” M said and Connor nodded, pushing M in front of him, in front of the sink.

“So, first you turn the water on,” Connor was right behind M, and he took up his right hand, placing it over the hot water faucet. He manipulated the boy’s hand until he turned the water on. “You need hot water to do dishes. It kills the germs and germs are yucky.”

“Yucky germs,” M agreed.

Connor snorted. “Then you grab the scrub,” he moved M’s hand to the green dish scrub, and M took it up between his fingers. “Hold it firmly,” he advised and M followed instructions. Connor moved closer until his front was flush to M’s back. The boy’s head tucked neatly under his chin and Connor nervously let out a breath, ruffling M’s soft hair. The heat emanating through the boy’s shirt sent a wanton shiver up his spine and Connor tried to clear his throat.

He took hold of M’s left hand, guiding it to the dish soap resting beside the sink.

“Then you squirt some soap on the scrub.”

M looked back at him, over his shoulder, his bright green eyes filled with interest and curiosity. Connor felt an inappropriate stirring in his loins as he gazed into M’s glittering eyes.

“How?” M’s lips shaped the word beautifully, pouting just so.

Connor blinked a few times before he could respond. This kid had no idea what he was doing to him. He was completely oblivious. Completely innocent… “Grab the soap, hold on to the scrub,” he instructed and felt the muscles in M’s wrists flex as he followed the orders, his body moving fluidly against Connor’s. “Now turn the soap over the scrubby and gently press your fingers down.”

M did so, squealing when some neon green soap jetted out onto the scrub.

“That’s good,” Connor said, smiling a little. “Now put the soap back.”

Connor continued with the lesson on dish washing and M continued to enjoy the process. Laughing, playing with the bubbles, asking questions in that curious way he did about everything. Connor had never had so much fun washing dishes and with his arms around the kid, he honestly felt like hugging him. But he didn’t. He tried his best to keep his distance even as M wiggled excitedly against his dick…

M quickly mastered the task of dishwashing and Connor stiffly – in more way than one – left him to tend to dinner. He got the frozen nuggets into the heated oven and his head cleared a bit and his erection slowly abated now that there was a bit of actual space between them. He turned back to the sink and calmly watched M finish his chores.

“I think you’ve got it,” he said. “Looks like you can help with dishes now.”

“That was fun,” M said.

“I’m sure once you’ve done it a million times it won’t be, but hopefully that won’t happen soon because I hate dishes.”

“Then you can make food for us and I can clean up!” M said, putting the last dish in the drainboard.

“That’s the idea,” Connor said. “Now, let’s put something less stupid on TV. These nuggets have 20 minutes in the oven before they’re ready.”

M peered at the oven. “What are the nuggets doing in there?”

“Cooking. They’re frozen. We have to warm them up,” he said, trailing into the living room. He grabbed the remote from the top of the TV where he’d left it earlier, and flipped through the channels the makeshift antenna could pick up. He wasn’t surprised when M came to sit beside him. Close, but not touching; Connor just tried to ignore M’s proximity.

He found Spiderman was on and it was near the beginning. Connor was glad to watch something that wasn’t a cartoon and M gasped with excitement. On screen, Spiderman swung around the city on his webs. He flipped and spun around, doing splits and lunges midair.

M squealed and grabbed Connor’s leg. “Is this real?” he asked. His fingers were digging into Connor’s ticklish inner thigh. “Can you do that?”

Connor laughed. “What? Swing around the city on a spider web? Hell no.”

“Then how can that guy do it?”

“It’s just a movie,” Connor said, amused. “Peter Parker got bit by a radioactive spider. That could never happen in real life, but in a movie, it happens all the time.”

“So, it’s fake, like the cartoons?”

“Yep,” Connor said.

“It doesn’t look fake,” M said, his eyes glued to the screen.

Connor had seen this particular movie once or twice before. He wasn’t invested in the plot. He was, however, very interested in the feeling of M’s hand on his thigh.

M’s skin was pale, smooth and unblemished. His nails were short and they dug into Connor’s jeans during moments of intense action on the TV screen. Connor’s gaze slowly traveled up the boy’s arm, wandering almost helplessly to his face.

M was more than cute. Connor absolutely hated himself for thinking it, but the boy was beautiful. He couldn’t get over how smooth and supple M’s cheeks looked. He didn’t have a bit of facial hair, just lots of silky, warm skin. In the light from the TV, Connor watched M’s young face. The boy’s expressions of joy, of fear, of excitement, were thrilling to observe. The way his soft eyebrows furrowed, how his cute upturned nose wrinkled, and his full, pink lips opened in astonishment as Spiderman did some superhuman feat on the television…

Connor felt weak with attraction. Fuck the kid’s age, fuck the fact he was a boy, he felt every single one of M’s fingers pressing into his thigh. It was like they were burning into his flesh. Then a commercial break interrupted the movie and M fell back into the couch cushions, looking like he’d just ran several miles without rest. He looked at Connor.

“I want to know what happens next!”

Connor looked away, afraid M would see the lust in his eyes. “You’ll see. You just gotta wait a minute.” The chicken was probably done anyway and Connor got up, shaking M’s hand off his thigh like it meant nothing. It didn’t mean anything, he told himself, hurrying into the kitchen and grabbing the oven mitt off the top of the fridge.

M was babbling about the movie, but Connor didn’t pay him any attention. He busied himself with dinner. He split the chicken onto two different plates and added the dipping sauces.

Spiderman was coming back on TV when he returned with the food. The smell of dinner was making his mouth water, but M was deeply involved in the movie. Connor ripped the tops off M’s dipping sauces and slid the plate onto his lap,

“Try it,” he said.

M, his eyes never leaving the TV, felt around his plate for the tiny bits of chicken.

“Put it in the sauce,” Connor instructed.

M glanced down at the plate in front of him. “Which one?”

“That’s barbeque, that’s ranch, and that’s honey mustard,” Connor said, pointing to each sauce. “I think you’ll like them all.”

M nodded. He rudely dipped his nugget into some honey mustard and then popped it into his mouth. “Mmm!” He moaned and his eyes closed with pleasure. But only for a moment. The green orbs slid back open, his gaze on the movie before him. “Yummy!”

Connor smiled, feeling pleased with his choice. He started to enjoy his dinner as well.

They ate and watched more Spiderman. M ended up grabbing onto Connor’s arm as the action spiked, using his right hand to eat, being messy, getting smudges of BBQ and honey mustard on his absent fingers and at the corners of his mouth. Connor couldn’t help but watch the way M sucked his fingers after every bite, couldn’t help but to be entranced by the sight of his messy lips and the way his tongue would dart out to clean them.

When another commercial break came on, a spot for car insurance, M licked his finger and swabbed up the crumbs on his plate. He sucked them off his delicate little fingers, his tongue wetting his hot, pink mouth. “Should I wash the dishes?”

Connor blinked. “Uh, no. You’ll miss the movie.” He got up again, letting M’s hand fall off his arm. He took their empty plates to the kitchen and lazily left them on the counter. He went back to the couch, ashamed with himself for the spike of pure happiness he got when M grabbed his arm again and held on tightly, but he didn’t say anything. He squirmed on the couch, stuck between pleasure and discomfort. M was oblivious of course. He held onto Connor’s arm without any problems at all. He didn’t speak again until Mary Jane was getting cornered, alone in an alley, partway through the film.

“She’ll get hurt!” M cried, his short fingernails digging into Connor’s skin.

“Just wait,” Connor said, putting his hand over M’s and rubbing it warmly.

“Spiderman!” M cried as the red and blue superhero repelled from a building and smacked the bad guys around. “He’s always there to save the day, isn’t he?”

Connor laughed. “Guess so.”

Mary Jane said basically the same thing. She and Spiderman had a little banter and then Mary Jane peeled Spiderman’s mask down, exposing his lips.

“What’s she doing?”

Connor didn’t answer, the two of them watched as Spiderman and Mary Jane had their first kiss in the rain.

M touched his mouth. “What does that feel like?”

“A kiss?” Connor asked. He hoped M wasn’t asking about that…

“You kissed Hannah yesterday. It looked nice but you said we can’t do that.”

Connor sighed. “Usually, boys and girls kiss. Two boys can kiss too, but it’s not exactly normal.”

M was quiet, staring at the TV. “So, two boys can be mates?”

“Uh, essentially, yes.”

“I like you,” M said, suddenly turning from the TV. The lights from the screen threw blues and whites across his young face. “Mother wants me to find a mate. She said she wanted me to experience love. The whole human experience.”

“You remember that?” Connor asked, transfixed by M’s intent gaze. “I thought you didn’t remember anything?”

“That’s the last thing she told me, before she sent me here. To find love. She didn’t know what it was, but if that’s what it is…” M gestured to the forgotten TV. “Then it looks nice. I guess I understand why she wanted that for me.”

Connor mulled M’s strange comment over, wondering what he was trying to say. “So, you do remember things.”

M hesitated. “She sent me on a mission.”

“A mission?” Connor stared into M’s soft, pale face. “What else do you remember, M?”

The boy was silent. He pressed his lips together and carefully avoided Connor’s gaze.

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

Connor’s blue eyes narrowed into slits. “Liar.” He used his handhold on M and carefully removed the boy’s hand from his arm. He scooted away, turning to face the boy fully.

M shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Looking anywhere but at Connor.

“What?” Connor asked, feeling a bit spooked by the look on M’s face. “Did you grow up locked in your mother’s basement or something? She wants you to have the ‘human experience’?”

“I wasn’t in a basement.”

Connor felt chills go up his spine all of a sudden. “Oh. Good.” He scoffed. “What do you remember, M? Why don’t you know how to do anything? Why is everything so new to you? Is that a lie too?”

“No,” M said.

“Then you’d better tell me what your deal is, because I don’t want to look stupid,” Connor snapped. “Is this a joke?”

“No.”

“Then tell me what you remember!”

“I can’t tell you,” M said softly.

“Can’t tell me what?!”

M whimpered and he hung his head fearfully.

“You were locked up, weren’t you?” Connor had seen a movie a long time ago, about some weirdo who’d spent his whole life locked in a room with his mother as his provider and protector. The weirdo had eventually killed his mom and ran outside into the real world. To go wild. Connor gazed at M, at the sweet-faced boy before him.

“I wasn’t locked up. Mother protected me. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive. I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Yeah. I’m totally convinced.” Connor sat stiffly, watching the boy closely. “Why can’t I even say your name? What exactly is your problem?”

M looked like he was choosing his words carefully and Connor started to scowl.

“I’m new to the world.”

“Obviously.”

“I had nowhere to go and then you found me. I like it here. I like being with you. You teach me things and give me yummy food–”

“There’s a lot more to life than being taken care of,” Connor said quickly.

M’s teeth worried his bottom lip. “And I’m sure you’ll teach me.” He glanced at Connor and started to smile, slowly, as if he weren’t sure it was alright to do so. “I want you to be my mate.”

Connor blinked. He should have known this was coming. M was obviously confused… “No, M,” Connor said. “There’s a lot of reasons why, but most importantly, I’m not gay.”

M cocked his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t like guys,” Connor said quickly. “But even if I did, I think you’re underage, so it wouldn’t work out anyway.”

“What?” M’s pretty little mouth turned down at the corners. His cautious smile was rapidly diminishing.

“Do you know how old you are? Because if you’re under 18, if I touch you, I’ll be risking jail time and getting labeled as a sex offender. I’m sure you don’t know what that means but it’s bad in the real world to touch kids. Really bad.”

M frowned. “I’m not a kid.”

“How old are you?”

“Older than you, I expect,” M said cryptically. “I just look young.”

“Yeah, fucking jailbait. That’s what they call kids like you.”

“But I’m not a kid.”

Connor groaned. “Listen, this is weird. I’m going to bed. You should finish this movie. You can tell me how it ends.” He already knew how Spiderman ended, but figured giving M a task might distract him long enough to escape this sudden and very awkward situation. He left M on the couch, barely giving him a glance as he escaped into the other room. He shut his door behind him, not caring this time what M would get up to in his absence.

He laid on the bed and after a moment of contemplating his strange new situation, he checked his phone.

I found my old box of Hooked-on-Phonics! But I didn’t find anyone missing that looked like Michael in the police records, was Hannah’s last text.

I don’t think he’s missing, Connor texted back. I think he was held hostage his whole life. By his mother, whoever the fuck she is.

Hannah must have been waiting. She texted back at once. Um, what?

We just had a strange conversation…

Suddenly, Connor’s phone lit up. It was a call from Hannah. Sighing, he answered it.

“What kind of conversation?”

“A really stupid kind!” Connor cried. The room was rapidly getting hot. He hadn’t turned the fan on and his face felt like it was on fire.

Hannah spoke clearly. “Please explain.”

“He like wants to—” Connor hesitated. His whole body was on fire now. The room was boiling with heat and he felt embarrassed tears form at the corners of his eyes. “He wants to kiss me!”

“What?”

Connor wiped his tears away. This was so stupid. He was just glad no one could see him. This was why Connor liked living alone, why he didn’t have friends, didn’t talk to anyone. It was because he was such an idiot! For years Connor had very carefully kept himself from becoming attracted to anyone, least of all Hannah. But now this mysterious boy, from some underground hidey hole, was going to butt his way into Connor’s life, his fucking home! And make him have feelings that made his insides twist?!

“He’s creeping me out,” Connor said, his voice shaking. “He’s fucked in the head, Hannah.”

“I’m coming over. Now. We’ll figure something out, ok—”

“No need,” he laughed bitterly. “He’s watching Spiderman!”

“… Ok, Connor?”

“What?”

“You don’t have to handle this alone. I’m the one who convinced you to let the boy stay,” she said. “Is he being… inappropriate?”

“Besides being stupid about everything, no,” Connor said. “He really doesn’t know anything about anything. He probably has no idea about sex and—stuff like that,” Connor said awkwardly, mopping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s asking,” he said at last.

“Maybe,” Hannah said.

“I’ll just see you tomorrow,” Connor said. “Get some sleep. Both of us shouldn’t have to end up college dropouts.”

Hannah laughed. “I wouldn’t have to drop out of school after missing one night of sleep,” she said. “But thanks. We’ve got one last written exam before my internship starts next week. I need to get all the notes.”

“Yeah,” Connor mumbled.

Next week, Hannah would basically be starting her career. Graduation was right around the corner. A real job drifted out there on the horizon….

“I’ll be there about 3:30. So you have enough time to get to work,” Hannah was saying.

“Ok,” Connor said.

“Try not to feel too bad. I’m sure the boy’s just confused. Are you sure he actually wants to kiss you?” She sounded a tad incredulous.

“He is confused,” Connor said, avoiding the question. “I’m just going to get some sleep. I’m not worried about it anymore. It’s more about—just where the fuck did this kid come from?”

“We’ll figure this out tomorrow, baby. Oh! I picked up some clothes for him, too. I think they’ll fit.”

“Thanks,” Connor said.

“Goodnight honey.”

“Night, Hannah,” Connor said neutrally, feeling a little peeved with the use of her repeated endearments, but Hannah was pleased with the salutation and hung up shortly after. Connor peeled the phone off his ear. He had started to cool down a little, but he was still a little sweaty and he rolled out of bed, moving to turn the fan in the window on high. Then he had to dive back across the bed to grab the phone charger plugged into the outlet on the bed’s other side. The dresser was immediately in front of the bed, taking up the majority of the space between the end of the bed and the wall opposite. It was almost impossible to actually walk through there. The room was tiny, but it wasn’t bad when he was alone.

He hooked his phone up, sighing as the cool breeze from the fan gusted over him. He laid the phone on the floor to charge and laid back in bed, just enjoying the cool air on his overheated skin.

Despite having lazed around all day Connor felt sleepy all of a sudden.

He knew he was fooling himself and Hannah both. He didn’t know why he’d bothered to tell her about M and his strange longing questions about kissing. He’d just taken it all back anyway, and for no reason either. There was no ‘maybe’ about it. M had said he wanted to do stuff with Connor. He’d even fought Connor’s lame pedophile excuses. This was no joke.

Connor was really feeling swayed towards the idea that M was not a sufferer of amnesia, but one of long-term imprisonment. Whoever M’s mother was, he had a feeling that M had some sort of Stockholm syndrome for her. She’d kept him locked away from the ‘human experience’ for this long? And M kept smiling like he’d been granted some great reward. Being let out of whatever dungeon he’d been kept in for so long. What a saint that mother was, finally letting him experience reality….

The dull hum of the fan drowned out the sound of the TV in the other room and it was peaceful. Connor drifted off to sleep after a while...

***

The next day, he rolled out of bed and killed the fan. Strangely, there were no sounds coming from the living room and Connor scooted back across the bed to dress in the little space in front of his closed bedroom door.

He went out into the hall and ventured into the silent living room. The TV was off and M was fast asleep on the couch, tangled in blankets. His bare legs were exposed.

Connor toed his running shoes on and didn’t spare the kid much more than a glance. He didn’t want to look. He exited the trailer, closing the screen door with care. He’d have to face the kid eventually, but not now. He just wanted to run.

It was muggy out and Connor broke a sweat just from stretching on the front stoop. He jogged down the long gravel drive and turned down the road, heading towards the dead end as usual.

When he reached the old dilapidated house, almost hidden from the road by a thicket of trees, Connor felt an odd tugging sensation in his gut. It was leading him towards the house, urging him to look inside.

He’d never given the old place much thought, but he had a weird feeling that maybe that’s where M and his mother had been holed up all this time. That would explain why M had shown up in the swamp…. M’s mother had released him, or maybe the kid had escaped, but M could have wandered through the woods for a few miles before splashing into the swamp, confused and lost.

Connor plowed through the undergrowth surrounding the abandoned property and approached the house. The front door was locked, there was a rusty chain shackling the door shut, but the front window was busted open. He went to it, stepping over pricker bushes and rocks. When he reached the house, he peered inside the window.

The place looked abandoned all right. It was dark inside, the room beyond the window was full of dry leaves and weeds were pushing up through the wooden floorboards. Connor spotted a few bright yellow and green splashes of graffiti on the back wall and they looked somewhat fresh.

Those stupid kids from the apartments had probably wandered in here. They’d broken the window, he was sure. Connor considered climbing through to get a better look, but honestly, this place didn’t look habitable. It definitely was no private hide away. The apartment kids had been here recently.

Connor shook his head and left the area, jogging back down the road and returning to his property. He paused to stretch and then he went back inside.

“Good morning,” M’s usually happy voice was cautious and light this morning. Connor was instantly suspicious. He drank in the sight of the blond, sitting in a puddle of blankets, sleepy eyed, with his hair rucked up in the back.

“Morning.” Connor folded his arms and glanced at the TV. It was on again and the sound was low. “So, you figured it out, huh?” he said roughly, nodding towards the TV set.

M smiled. “I pushed all the buttons on that transmitter thing until I figured it out,” he said, brushing his hair aside. “I saw you using it last night to command the TV. I figured I could make it work too.”

“Remote,” Connor said. “It’s called a remote.”

“Oh,” M glanced towards the TV and then quickly back at Connor. “I washed the dishes from last night too. I put the sauce packets in the big bin full of smelly junk. I wasn’t supposed to wash them, right?”

“No,” Connor said, dropping his arms. “That was smart of you.”

M smiled softly, looking like he was fighting a blush. “I didn’t know how to make any food though,” he said. “I think I’m hungry again.”

“You want more Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

M’s face lit up. “Yes.” The boy looked so super pleased, his face beaming with joy, it was like Connor had actually done something spectacular rather than suggest a cold bowl of cereal for breakfast. Connor bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the stupid smile that was fighting to come to life on his own face, and headed into the kitchen. He poured the kid a bowl of cereal, added milk and a spoon and brought it to the blond.

“Thank you,” M said, carefully taking the bowl.

“You’re ok on your own? I’ve still got to do some strength training and then I’m going to get a shower,” Connor asked, receiving a nod for his efforts. “Alright, just watch some TV and I’ll see you soon.” He stalked out of the room, grabbing his set of weights from the hall closet and moving into the bedroom. He shut the door behind him for privacy. He usually did this out in the living room, he liked to watch the news at the same time, but he wasn’t up for an audience. He used the small space in his room to do a few bicep curls, lunges and presses. He took a quick break to turn the fan on again, enjoying the cool air and the burning in his muscles.

When he was done, he returned the weights to the closet and slipped into the bathroom. He caught a look of himself in the mirror as he undressed, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose.

He really didn’t see what Hannah saw in him. He didn’t know why M was suddenly asking to get closer either. He had his mother’s blue eyes and he’d always hated them for the reminder.

The story of Connor’s family life was a sad one. His mother had failed him early in life. She’d gotten tired of living in the trailer park, with a drunk husband and an unhappy kid and had split when Connor was 3. She’d gotten remarried, to some rich asshole in Florida and had given birth to another kid, some boy named Nathan. She’d attempted to reach out to him a couple years back but Connor had wanted nothing to do with her.

He wanted nothing to do with his father either. The only thing Connor associated with that guy was his alcohol abuse and the anger and violence he let spill out when he got properly hammered. Connor had taken more than a few punches from the guy. He’d been out the door at 18, just glad to be away from the violence.

Connor’s gaze refocused on his reflection. His family life had always left him feeling unsatisfied. He felt incompetent, lacking, and almost sensing his dissatisfaction with himself, Hannah had reassured him more than once that he was more than competent. Apparently, his body was attractive, but when Connor eyed his cock and balls, giving them a prefatory rub, he felt next to nothing.

Feeling stupid, he quickly stepped into the shower. He washed himself briskly and then got out, wrapping himself in a towel. He carefully avoided his reflection and exited the steamy bathroom, drying off in his room and putting some jeans and an undershirt on. Sighing, he finally went back out to the living room.

M’s gaze was on him as soon as appeared, which Connor avoided with determination. He went to the kitchen and got himself a bowl of cereal, as well. M’s bowl had already been cleaned and was drying in the rack and Connor put it away absently before coming to sit on the couch.

“What are you watching?”

“Cartoons,” M said. There was a commercial on now, some kind of back to school clothing sale, and M pointed to the screen as some kids modeled the hottest new fashions. “Those are kids. I’m not one of them. I don’t even look like a kid.”

“Mmm,” Connor tensed. He really wasn’t in the mood to discuss M’s desire for a relationship.

But M didn’t say anything more. He just fell back into the program as the commercial ended. It was a rerun of Animaniacs. Connor remembered seeing it himself, years ago, when he’d lived with his father. He’d spent a lot of time in his room with a tiny TV, hiding from the mean old man.

It was past noon, and Connor had to work that night. He put up with the lame barrage of cartoons, just counting the hours until Hannah showed up to take over the babysitting duties. It was boring. And Connor ended up played with his phone, something he never did.

“Can I play that candy game again?” M asked after some time and Connor checked the time. It was a quarter till three.

Connor nodded. “But I’m going to watch the news,” he said.

“Ok!” M agreed, almost vibrating with joy as Connor loaded up the game and handed it over.

Connor switched the channel to the news, feeling a brief wave of relief. The cartoons were loud and stupidly bright. The news was comforting, with the matter-of-fact reporting, the dull regularity of it.

There was a brief report about the polices’ presence in at the apartments close by. Connor remembered seeing them the day before.

Apparently, there’d been some drug bust. The whole top floor of one of the buildings had been set up as a meth lab. Connor snorted, thinking he’d have to give his guy a call when he had the cash. His guy dealt mainly in grass, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t got busted as well.

Besides the weed, Connor didn’t deal in much else. He never touched alcohol, thanks to the influence of his father. But his connect lived in the apartments, had since Connor had met him back in college. Neither of them had ended up graduating, but at least his guy had networked and had himself a thriving business. Drug related of course, but Connor wasn’t judging.

On TV they moved into a segment on sports. Then the weather guy came on, promising a four-day sun fest. Great. The store was busy when it rained and busy meant more tips. Connor could really use some cash.

There was also a report on some strange sightings in the sky and Connor rolled his eyes. News like this amused him. The UFO story was quickly followed up with a report about Angelina Jolie’s new movie. Who the fuck cared? he thought. The bitch was ugly anyway.

Connor noticed the time when the newscast returned after a brief commercial break. It was nearly 3:30. “I’ve got to get ready for work,” he said. “Finish up your game, Hannah will be here soon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Connor left the kid on the couch. He went to his room to find his work shirt. When he came back out to the living room, he offered to make some sandwiches for lunch. M agreed and Connor went to slap together some lunch meat, bread and cheese.

They were finishing their sandwiches when Hannah’s little Prius pulled up in the drive. Connor shoved the last of his sandwich in his mouth and went to meet her at the door.

“Hey, hey, sorry I’m late.” Hannah got out of the car and paused to get a plastic shopping bag out of the backseat. “I got here as soon as I could. Traffic leaving campus was a total nightmare.” Hannah was in a hurry, but Connor slipped outside and stopped the girl from approaching any further. He just wanted a minute to talk alone.

“What’s that?” he asked, poking a finger at the bag Hannah carried.

“Clothes for the boy.”

“We’re calling him M,” Connor reminded her.

“Oh, jeez sorry,” Hannah huffed. “I brought the first set of Hooked-on-Phonics, too, I thought we’d run through them to pass the time.”

“Nice,” Connor nodded. “I just want to make sure you’re all right here alone with the kid. I didn’t have him shower or anything like that, but I did feed him.”

“Ok?” Hannah smirked. “You want me to get him naked or something?”

Connor shrugged. “You already did, didn’t you? I don’t think it’d be a good idea if I tried to help him out, after that weird conversation we had last night.”

Hannah wrinkled her brow. “So, is he still hitting on you?”

“No. He doesn’t know how. He just saw us kissing the other night and asked if he could put his mouth on me. He saw Spiderman kissing Mary Jane on TV last night and he goes off on this wild tangent about how his mom sent him out on a mission, hoping he’d get to experience the world. I guess he’s supposed to experience love and romance and sex and all that, too.”

“Wait… he said that? He remembered something about his home life before this?”

“I already told you that,” Connor said with exasperation. “I told you last night, I think he was held hostage by his mother, or someone pretending to be her. I think he’s got Stockholm syndrome and he’s not saying anymore on the topic. He said he can’t.”

“Honestly, I forgot about that. I remember you telling me he wants to kiss you, I definitely remember that,” Hannah smirked, looping her free arm around Connor’s shoulder. He allowed her to pull him in for a hug, let her kiss him on the cheek. “Poor kid has no idea what he’s asking of you, does he?”

“I don’t know,” Connor grunted, “C’mon, Hannah. He’s probably watching us.”

Hannah eyes were dark and full of humor but there was an edge there, too. One of jealousy. Connor saw it every time some dumb girl made eyes at him. He wasn’t surprised to see it now. If only Hannah knew how he was really feeling about the kid. If only she’d seen all the touching that had been going on… Connor felt embarrassed and he shrugged out of Hannah’s hold.

“I have to go,” Connor said, turning back to the trailer.

“We’ll talk later,” she agreed and let him go.

Connor banged through the screen door, glaring briefly in M’s direction.

M, his eyes wide, held Connor’s phone out.

“Thanks,” Connor grunted, pocketing his phone. He grabbed his wallet and keys from their resting place on top of the TV. “I’m going to work. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” M said softly.

Connor skipped out the door, slipping past Hannah who was just coming up the stoop.

“Everything will be fine,” she said, smiling up at him. “Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll be here waiting for you.”

“Ok,” Connor said briskly. “I have to go.”

“Go on then,” Hannah chuckled. “Pizza Hut can’t bear to be without their star driver!”

Connor sneered and pushed past her, heading for the Honda. He couldn’t wait for the night to be over, but it had yet to even start.

It was going to be a long night.