Runaway

If you've found this story, please do read Let Them Eat Cake and Connors Journey first, this is the third in a series of six, the characters follow through the series so the background of the characters will help you understand each story.

Thanks.

Happy reading 😀

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Shifting around, desperately wrapping the threadbare blanket around him, George cried.

He'd had a home and a life, he'd had a family.

Until his life went to shit and he'd had to escape.

Freezing, starving, he huddled into the recess of the doorway gazing at the sweet treats and bright beautiful flowers in the shop window.

"LET THEM EAT CAKE", the sign above the shop glowed dimly in the early morning Street lights.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had cake or food of any sort for that matter, his empty stomach growling in an effort to gain attention.

But George was numb, cold, unwanted.

His feet ached from walking, his head thumped from the cold, his heart broken from rejection.

Slipping into a dreamless sleep George shivered as the morning light glistened and the birds began to sing.

He would die here.

"What the.....?" Steve gasped as he rounded the doorway to the shop.

"Nick, Nick, come quickly".......

"Is he ok?"......."Hey kid, hey, you okay?".

Crouching down Nick took a deep breath and pulled away the thin blanket, scared green eyes slowly opened widening immediately at the sight of the man, as the skinny body beneath the blanket jerked away.

Flinching like a terrified animal, just waiting for the next punch.

"No, no no no no don't hit me", the boy pleaded, eyes glassed over in terror, arms thrown and clenched tight over his head.

Nick gasped.

It was a boy, young, terrified, a sudden flash of an image of a young Blake, scared, on the streets, pulled at his heart.

"Hey kid, we're not going to hurt you", Steves soft voice soothed as he crouched next to his husband, "we're here to help, what happened to you?".

"R-r-r ran away", the boy shivered.

"He's freezing Steve let's get him inside", slowly unwrapping the boys slim arms from his head then pulling back his hood slightly Nick smiled, then frowned.

Dried blood crusted round a small deep gash on the boys forehead, seeing the mans expression George raised his fingers rubbing the cut, "hit m-m-my head running away from........ I was trying to find food......... bins" he stammered.

"You've been eating from bins?", Steve breathed out slowly taking in the boys dirty clothes and threadbare blanket, the trainers on his feet barely holding together.

The dirty backpack containing the boys few possessions propped against the shop door.

"What's your name kid?", Nick smiled as the boy unfurled a bit,

"I'm Nick, and this is my husband Steve, this is our shop".

"G-g-george, George T-tate", the boys eyes were round, curious, these men weren't like the others he'd encountered, these men were nice, with kind faces and smiles.

They had a feeling of warmth and safety that George couldn't quite describe, but he suddenly felt he could trust them, he hoped he was right.

"Well.... George, let's get you inside and warmed up yeah?", Nick stuck out a hand, offering it to the boy who took it with a weak grip, Nick gasping quietly at the icy chill of the boys pale skin.

Pushing himself up as best he could, taking strength from Nicks grip George stumbled, legs stiff and cold from being scrunched up.

Leaning on Nick to his right and Steve to his left they bundled through the now open door.

"Hold onto him Nick", Steve said as he shifted the boys weight, which wasn't much, to his husband, who took it easily.

"Blake?....... Connor?.......... You awake?", Steve yelled from the bottom of the stairs to the flat.

Georges wide green eyes took in his surroundings carefully, the shop was warm, homely, clean and smelled heavenly, sugar, vanilla, chocolate and just a hint of cinnamon.

Breathing in slowly his eyes fluttered closed as memories of happier times flitted through his brain.

Baking cakes and biscuits with his mum, laughing, joking, flour puffs rising in the air as he clapped his hands together chasing his mum round the kitchen.

The sweet taste of hot caramel coffee and fresh cake as they sat out on the patio chatting about their day, about boys.

Georges mum hadn't cared that he was gay, she'd embraced it fully, chatting with him about boys, eyeing them up in the street, laughing at his blushes.

She was a single mum, dad long gone somewhere into the ether never to be heard of again.

But 9 months before his 18th birthday, the big C had reared its ugly head and his world had shattered, barely six months later he was standing at his mothers grave bereft, friendless, alone.

His uncle, unaware that he was gay had taken him in and all was good until he caught him being kissed by a boy in town.

Several beatings, sleepless nights and turning 18 in the woods alone after a particularly violent assault from his uncle later, he'd decided that was it.

He had to leave, he had to go, so he went.

Shaking his head, making his dirty copper curls bounce slightly he focussed again as two more men came into view, one a carbon copy of the man to his left, Steve was it?, and a spiky haired blonde with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, so blue he couldn't help but stare for a moment.

"Dad, What's going on?", turning his attention to the boy propped up against Nick, Blake gasped.

Wide eyed he simply stared at the boy taking in the sight of that copper curl on his forehead as George shifted his gaze nervously between the two, looking down at their hands.

Blonde and tall?, brown hair and slim?, the wedding rings!, that voice!, through his foggy brain he suddenly realised the blonde...... was the man from the pub!.

"Blake, you ok?", Connor slipped an arm round Blakes waist sensing his unease, pulling him into his side as he smiled at the visitor.

By the look of the boy leaning tiredly against Nick, he was a street kid, understanding his husbands tense demeanor Connor held him tight.

Blake nodded gently, Connor knew what he was thinking, he was seeing himself, he was back there on that station platform, dirty, abused, numb, all he owned in the world in a dirty backpack.

Blake knew the look, the haunted eyes, the dirt, the blood, the fear, it was like looking at himself all those years ago.

"Hi, I'm Connor, and this is my husband Blake", Connor smiled widely as Blake lowered his gaze with a small smile.

Tension hung in the air briefly as George shuffled from foot to foot, searching for hostility in the room.

Last time someone had welcomed him in it had ended very very badly.

But he felt none, no bad vibes, no anger, no hate, nothing.

"Ooookay so, introductions over let's get you cleaned up then you can eat ok?!", Nick broke the still air, "Connor, Blake, can we borrow your bathroom and do you have any spare clothes George here can wear?".

Connor smiled as the boys eyes studied his face, then flicked over to study Blake closely, the blonde simply looking at him, a strange but kind of understanding look in his eyes.

"Sure, yeah, come on, George is it?", George nodded tiredly, "let's get you cleaned up".

Relaxing in the friendly atmosphere, feeling safe somehow George steadied himself, grabbed his backpack and blanket and followed the younger pair up the stairs to the flat.