"Holy shit." I muttered as I pulled up outside the store. I couldn't even muster the courage to get out of the car at first. The sight made me physically sick.

FAGGOT

It was written in big red letters, spray painted across the front of the store. The word was so bold and aggressive that at first, I didn't even notice Theodore curled up on the floor, leant up against the glass door of the shop.

As soon as I saw him, I threw the car door open. He shakily stood up as he saw me approach, his head lolled forward, hiding his face from me. I didn't care if he was crying, if his eyes were puffy and red, if tear tracks stained his cheeks. I just flung my arms around him and yanked him towards me, pulling him into my chest.

He stiffened at the contact, but quickly loosened up, burrowing his face into my shoulder as my arms snaked around his slim waist. His small frame vibrated with sobs, his fingers balling into fists, grabbing handfuls of my jacket. I wasn't sure how long we stood there for, rocking gently back and forth, my nose buried into his silky hair. He smelt like lavender.

He was the first to pull back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve in embarrassment, "I-I'm sorry-"

"Who did this?" I demanded.

He looked down, suddenly fascinated by a murky puddle swirling with mud. "I-I don't know." He whispered.

"Yes, you do." I countered, immediately scolding myself for speaking so bluntly to such a fragile boy. "It was him, wasn't it?" I urged gently. "That kid. Eddie."

"N-No...it..." He struggled, but it was unconvincing. He stammered for a minute longer before finally admitting defeat and shutting his mouth.

"Was he the one who fucked with your bike?"

He glanced up at me, his blurry eyes supplying a clear answer. "S-Sorry you had to l-leave school, I-I didn't know who else to call, I j-just-"

"It's okay." I promised. "Seriously, Theodore. It's okay. Call me whenever."

He smiled softly, "Th-Thank you, Luca." He whispered. "S-Sorry everything about me is so m-messed up."

I sighed heavily, "Trust me, you're not messed up." I assured him. "I've done some pretty fucked up shit in my life."

"L-Like what?"

I gazed down into his sparkling eyes. They looked so gentle, and so kind. I felt like I could tell him anything and he wouldn't judge me. And so I found myself telling him the one thing I'd not mentioned since leaving the Netherlands. "I tried burning down my school."

His lips parted in shock, his eyes widening. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to pick the right words to string together. "You..." He cleared his throat. "W-What?"

I sighed, sitting down crosslegged on the hard, wet ground, my back pressed up against the wall of the shop. Theodore hesitantly sat down beside me, watching me, analysing me. "I was ten, almost eleven." I supplied. "The kids at school...they used to tease me, make fun of me, bully me." I explained. "I got so fed up that one day I just..." I stopped dead, tilting my head back to stare at the sky, the clouds rolling around and drifting away peacefully. "I didn't think. I never...I never thought about what would actually happen. I was so caught up in the moment, it's not like I'd planned any of it. I didn't intend to hurt anyone, I didn't intend...anything really." I said quietly. "It's kind of like an illness; pyromania."

I didn't look at him. I couldn't. I couldn't see the hurt on his face, the betrayal, the shock, the disgust, the disappointment. But then I felt his head drop to my shoulder as he shuffled closer. His gentle breathing tickled my neck and I was involuntarily reminded of my vivid dream. "That's why you moved?" He whispered encouragingly.

"Yeah." I replied thickly. "Yeah, that's why I moved."

He glanced up at me, peeking through his thick lashes, still wet with tears. "Th-Thanks for telling me."

I watched him quizzically, "You're not...like, put off? I lied to you, to everyone. I'm a fucking psychopath for this shit, Theodore. Why don't you hate me?"

He lifted his head off my shoulder and I instantly missed the comforting weight of it. "I-I told you about Eddie." He gulped. "You could have chosen not to b-believe me. Y-You could have thought I-I was the stalker, but...but you didn't." He stated. "You didn't assume anything, L-Luca. W-Why should I?" He reassured me softly.

I actually found myself smiling down at him, "Thanks, Theodore. You're...you're literally the only person I can talk to about this." I confessed. I reluctantly dragged my eyes up to the dripping red paint above us, "C'mon, we should clean this up."

He nodded as the pair of us retired into the store. I tried not to let myself think about what I had just revealed to Theodore. I barely knew him and yet it felt like we'd been friends for years. I chose to share something so delicately personal, something I hadn't told anyone. And he didn't care. He didn't judge me. He barely even batted an eyelid.

We grabbed a couple of sponges and a bucket from the storeroom, filling it with soapy water from the sink in the toilet. After saying a quick hello to the kittens milling about in the cardboard box in the corner, we retreated back outside. We placed the bucket between us as we started scrubbing away at the letters. The paint didn't come off easily, it was clinging onto the glass for dear life. I knew this would take at least an hour or two. But even once we finished, I knew I wouldn't be willing to leave Theodore straight away. Emotionally, he needed me. His eyes had barely dried and I knew if I left him alone, he'd just start crying all over again. And that almost broke my heart.

"So, where're your parents?" I asked, wringing out my sponge over the now red tinged, cloudy water.

"We're usually sh-shut today." He replied, scrubbing at the stubborn 'A' which refused to disappear. "B-But I left my bag inside so I had to p-pick it up on the way to school and..." His voice faded away.

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up earlier." I apologised. "I didn't check my phone until lunch."

"It's okay." He smiled lightly, "I sh-should have just g-got on with it and started c-cleaning it myself. I-I just...I don't know."

I nudged him playfully, "You know it's more than that." I reminded him. He didn't need me to help him clear this mess up. He needed me emotionally. He needed me physically, just being here, my presence. He needed someone to hold him back before he tipped over the edge and disappeared into the darkness. And as far as I knew, I was the only friend he had.

He shrugged, "Maybe."

I rolled my eyes, grinning as an idea sprung to mind and I flicked water at him. He froze, turning to face me questioningly. I smirked, dipping my sponge into the foamy water before throwing it at him. It hit him with a squelch, sending sparks of soap flying. His jumper had darkened around the area that had been hit with the sponge, the water seeping through his clothes. His eyes flicked to mine in an attempt to look menacing, but the smile tugging its way onto his lips gave him away.

Without warning, he flung his own sponge at me. Except this time, it hit me on the face. Cold water dribbled down my cheek, the soap already starting to irritate my skin. He chuckled and I rose my brows expectantly, "Oh, it is on."

I grabbed the sponge he'd hit me with and threw it back to him, hitting his thigh. He raced back to the bucket, soaking both sponges in the water before tossing them at me with full force. Before I knew it, my hair was dripping and my clothes were soaked. It was war.

Soon we were both running around the car park, laughing like a couple of children as we flung wet sponges back and forth and tried to remain as dry as possible. Although, it didn't really matter who ultimately 'won', since both of us looked like we'd just been fully submerged in a swimming pool. We'd both already lost. But neither of us seemed to care as we shivered from head to toe.

I managed to corner him, holding both sponges, inflated and pumped with water, ready to burst. I pinned him up against the brick wall behind the store, helpless. We were close, our chests pressed together, his wide eyes staring up at me. Our laughter died out as we gazed into each other's eyes, like the world was crumbling around us, but we didn't care. His soft breathing was evening out, and we both continued to stare. I didn't understand the feeling. The feeling of my heart tingling with a jolt of electricity, the urge to lean down and kiss him pulsing through my veins.

He gulped just as I finally gained an awareness of my surroundings. I hastily pulled out the sponges and twisted them over his head. He gasped as I squeezed each one tightly, the icy water running down his back. The red liquid stained his snowy hair, turning it bloody as it clung to his forehead. "You dickhead." He shivered, biting his lip as he chuckled to himself. And yet, I still hadn't moved away.

I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, I wanted to warm him up, give him my jacket and dry him off. I wanted to lean down and kiss him.

My eyes widened and I rushed to push myself off of him, "I have to go." I blurted out, already making a dash for my car.

"W-What?" He called after me, trying to catch up, "I-Is everything okay?"

"It's fine. Great." I fixed on a forced smile as I nodded. "I just remembered...my cousin. We were meant to be..." My mind was so blank, I couldn't even conjure a decent excuse. "I just...I need to go."

He watched me, his eyes sad. I felt like I could almost hear his heart snapping in two. "Oh, okay." He smiled lightly. "I-I'll see you around?" He asked hopefully.

"Uh, yeah, maybe." I shrugged, grabbing my jacket and practically sprinting to my car. As soon as the door was shut, I cursed loudly.