~Andrew~

His mom walked in after what felt like forever with a bucket of ice water and rags to help me with my 'fever'.

"Here hon rest your head back for me," She instructed me, finding her own seat on the table in front of the sofa. The table made a slight protest to her weight before steadying.

She wrung all of two rags in the bucket, pressing one to my head after a moment of soaking.

"How are you feeling?" She questioned. I'm sure she's been wanting to ask something like that since I got here but since the answer was too obvious at first she refrained from making such a comment.

"Fine. Better with your help," I mumbled, trying to be a little honest. I was better with Ms. Jones's help and if it wasn't for these two I don't think I could have called myself fine for the 4th day in a row. "Thank you for letting me into your home." I finished.

Without warning the palm of her hand gently met the side of my cheek, full of what I'm guessing was 'the mother's touch'. It scared me at first but no pain followed. I commanded my heart to ease into the feeling without looking like I'd never known the sentiment but I'm guessing my previous state gave it away.

"You're welcome here anytime honey," She looked over to her own son before smiling. Probably taking in the moment to relish in the feeling of having raised an amazing person, who just saved a total stranger that clearly needed more help than he realized.

Not that I'll ever admit to needing help but who cares. Keaton would just yolk me up by my arm and forcibly give me the damn help anyway. I speak from personal experience.

The whole time his mother was smiling at him, Keaton was smiling at me.

So in response, in an attempt to look like I was somewhat raised by good parents at all, I smiled back.

~~~

After my 'fever' came down to a reasonable temperature, Mrs.Jones excused herself and allowed me to stay on the sofa and watch some kind of animation on the t.v. which consisted of the permanent sound of a yellow sponge laughing and burgers underwater. Keaton laughed at some parts, which was confusing because what's supposed to be funny? Hardly any of it made sense.

At this point, I was curious to know the time. I haven't seen a clock in maybe 2 days since my service was cut off completely, followed by the tragic death of my phone. My neck itched to ask but I doubted Keaton would let me get up to check the time since the last time I had been standing I was planning to make a sudden run for it. Not that I wasn't still thinking about it.

"I hate to bother but, what's the time?" My eyes found his, brows creasing to pinch in the middle, confusion filling his face. I looked away, itching the spot on my neck that had been burning. "I- I was just wondering since m- my phone died and all and you might know so-"

My eyes fell to my hands intertwined in my lap fiddling with each of my individual fingers twisting and turning just like my stomach at the idea that he might ask me if I wanted to charge it. Truth is, after my phone died, I threw it far as fuck. I mean like I put everything I've ever had to be angry about into that throw. You can't tell me you've never done that shit before.

"Um yeah hold on I left my phone upstairs." My neck whipped to face him throwing off his blanket. He put momentum into getting up, stopping halfway to look at me. His gaze was trying to say something but clearly failing cause I totally didn't get the message.

He pulled the edge of the blanket completely off of his torso running up to the stairs taking them two steps at a time leaving me alone in his living room and handing me a perfect opportunity.

 Shit. Should I? 

I quickly looked around for the shit I brought with me to this home, eyes scanning for what felt forever suspenseful, before seeing one of the straps on the floor near the front door. Snatching the blanket off I ran for the bag, throwing it over my shoulder, flying through the hall and out the door.

I ran. My heart trying to match in speed if not, going even faster than my legs could take me.

I ran and ran till the house couldn't be seen and I could confirm I was officially at the bottom of the hill. My head ached and my lungs swelled, the adrenaline dying down leaving me weightless. 

Keaton's driveway was probably a solid mile and even then the cracked pavement split before me at the end of his road, both directions looking like false hope. I looked both ways, deciding right was my best option. My heart never stopped but tightened in my chest the further I ran.

I ran feeling the Autumn air choke my lungs and the blurry colors of yellows in every hue fill my line of vision. As I ran, images of my old life filled my head, and the experiences I've had in only a matter of a couple of hours toppled in comparison. I could never have a life like Keaton and that made me sick. The acid in my stomach bubbled in envy and burned at my insides. 

What am I doing? 

I screamed as I ran. My feelings matched the taste of my tears as they poured out and ran into my mouth. The echoes of my scream bounced off of every tree coming back to me.

My running began to come to a halt, my pace slowing as I realized the only hope that would ever be thrown my way was what I was running from. It was just too good to be true. And even then, what if Ms.Jones does get a hold of my past? What if she tries to bring me back? What would I do if I ever ran into them in this town or had to confront them? My fears are still somewhere out there. Walking around freely.

My ears picked up on the sound of me sucking in air for dear life. I didn't know I was holding my breath till now. I looked around and behind me, no one in sight or following me. Sweat tickled my skin as it rolled down my face. 

I shivered. 

I could go back. But that would mean taking a risk that could cost me my freedom. I wasn't sure I was ready for that. What would Ms.Jones say if I go back? There's no way Keaton let my sudden absence go unnoticed.

Breath. I reminded myself. In for 4, out for 4.

Even if Ms.Jones wanted to bring me back to my past, would Keaton let her? I have nowhere better to go. If I stay out here I'm gonna freeze again, for the third night in a row. I hate this. I rubbed my eyes clear before deciding my hopefully fortunate fate.

I pulled the weight of my feet off the ground turning back around towards the house, this time in no rush since I'm probably gonna be punished for running. I walked for what felt like forever. I really do wonder what time it is. But with Keaton being out of the living room it was just a perfect opportunity. I didn't even need to think about it.

I kicked rocks up the driveway, kicking one last rock hitting the base of the stairs to the front door. Sighing and taking a confident breath in, my hand lightly hit the door. Before my knuckle could make contact with the dark russet wood, the door flew open.

Instantly I was met with the sight of two dark forest green eyes, full of concern, fear, and anger?

"H- hi. I'm sorry. Apparently, I do need help so I'm back." I whispered the last couple of words before I could think about what I was saying following with an instinctive shrug to lighten the mood. My eyes hit the ground immediately, watching my toes squirm with the same insecurities I felt inside at the moment. The flesh in my cheek being abused once again.

 A loud yet relieved sigh fell from his body. With the same look in his eyes, he stepped out of the front door reaching for me, his height being almost 4 inches indifferent to me, before snaking his muscular arm behind my head, folding me in a warm hug.

 I flinched at first expecting him to hit me or choke me but all I got was a deep warm breath from him. His head nuzzled its way into the crook of my neck with another warm sigh. I closed my eyes at the comfort of the rare embrace. Is this what normal people do when someone runs away?

"You're welcome here anytime, stranger." He whispered. Slowly pulling me back inside of the Jones Family home.

God, this better not be a cruel joke.