From Afar - 5. Chapter 5

We left a few minutes later, stepping out into the bright day. The happiness which Joey'd shown briefly in my apartment... our apartment, my mind corrected me... was gone, shuttered behind a thin veil of cool reserve. I let him lead the way as we walked to the apartment he'd shared with his stepfather until recently. He never mentioned his mother, though he'd mentioned brothers when we talked about his school, so I wasn't entirely sure what we'd find at his former home. It was late enough, he'd assured me, that no one should be home. For his sake, I hoped he was right.

After a few minutes, he pulled a key from his pocket, using it to open a door on the far side of the complex. Idly, as the lock turned, I wondered at the fact that, even though he'd lived over here, several minutes from my front door, he'd chosen the area by my... by our home to sit.

He opened the door, stepping quietly inside and pausing to listen, then motioned to me. Following him, we stepped inside an apartment much bigger than mine, though it seemed in disrepair, trash strewn all over the floor of the living room, shattered glassware near the door by us, an overturned picture frame lying near the entertainment center.

As he went down the hallway, presumably to pack his belongings, I picked up the picture frame and looked at it, smiling to see Joey's happy face looking back, a slight woman holding his shoulders and smiling as well. I looked at the other pictures gathered on the top of the entertainment center and saw a couple others with the woman, both of which shared with an older, hard-faced man -- I guessed the woman to be his mother, and the man his stepfather -- and several others with the man and a couple of boys that looked more like him than Joey. Stepbrothers, maybe? I thought, then turned to the sound of footsteps behind me.

"That's my mom," Joey said sadly. "She... she died last year. That's when my stepfather started... well, you know."

I stepped towards him and hugged him tightly, the picture still in my hand. "I'm sorry," I said softly, after a few seconds.

"It's OK," he replied, "it's been some time, but I'm getting over it. I think she's still around, somewhere, watching me. That's... that's all that I can hope, sometimes. Sometimes it feels like she's watching me, and that makes me feel better about everything."

I broke the embrace, handing him the picture. "You should take this, to remember her by," I said softly. He nodded, turning to head back down the hallway, with me in tow this time.

We reached the only open door, and as we walked in, I could tell this was his room. His smell, that wonderful aroma that always surrounded him, was thick in the room, making it feel more comfortable than the living room immediately. He had a backpack opened on the bed, and carefully wrapped the picture in a t-shirt lying on the bed, then tucked it into his backpack, before grabbing other clothes and stuffing them in as well, packing seemingly at random.

When the backpack filled, he closed it and pulled a dufflebag from beneath the bed, continuing the process until he had three filled bags (plus the backpack), and the room was basically bare of anything save furniture. He'd even slipped out to grab some toiletries from the bathroom, amongst which I noticed a small bottle of cologne, though I didn't recognize the brand offhand.

"OK," he said finally, surveying the room. "That's pretty much everything."

"Good," I said jokingly, "if you'd had too much more, I wouldn't have anywhere to put your stuff!"

He looked sad for a moment, and I chuckled, pulling him into another embrace. "Don't worry, I was kidding, I'll always have room for you and your stuff," I reassured him, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

At that moment, I heard a gasp, and both Joey and I looked up to see a younger boy -- from the photos I'd seen earlier, one of his stepbrothers -- standing in the doorway, staring at us. Joey's face went pale with shock, and he opened his mouth as though to say something, but nothing came out.

"So, pops was right," the boy said in a cold tone. "And who's this, faggot, your boyfriend?"

Joey's eyes began filling with tears, and the younger boy pulled out a cell phone, dialing a number quickly. "Hey pops," he said into the phone, "Joey came back, and he's got another faggot with him. Looks like he's taking all his shit with him this time." He listened into the phone for a minute, then closed it, smirking at us. "Guess he's gonna come back here and see this shit for himself," he said, clearly happy with the results of his meddling. He stepped into the room, surveying both of us, his hands clenching and unclenching as he did so. "Course, he won't mind if you're not looking your best when he gets here, so I guess it's my turn, huh?" With that, he took a swing at Joey, still standing shocked in my arms.

The next few moments were a blur. Even though I didn't remember taking so much as a day of martial arts classes, I remembered tossing Joey to the bed and deflecting the boy's fist, then spinning and tripping him with a low, sweeping kick, then lightly hitting him on the temple, knocking him unconscious.

"Tonio?" Joey said, after the boy'd been laying there for a few seconds. "Oh my God... did you kill him?" he asked, sounding hurt and turning to me.

I reached down and felt his neck for a pulse, and it easily, beating strong. "No, he's definitely alive," I said confidently. I could feel the rush of Tonio's breath when I pulled my hand back. "He'll be fine, I just knocked him unconscious. Let's get out of here before your stepdad gets here."

He nodded, and we left quickly, with him locking the door behind us and slipping the key under the mat where, I assume, he hoped his stepfather would find it. There was no going back for him, not now. Honestly, though, given what he was leaving behind, and what I hoped the future held for us, I didn't think he minded all that much...