A Daydream Away

"Sweet!" I grinned at Alex before pulling him into a hug.

I honestly had no idea where the offer came from, but just seeing the boy so broken and sad after telling me he had no home made my heart ache for him. From the few times I've talked to him, he seemed like a decent human being, something you can't find nowadays.

A small part in the back of my mind was screaming at me, telling me that I'm a dumbass for letting a complete stranger live with me. Well, I'll know if it was a good or bad decision if I wake up with a knife in my gut. For right now, I'm not going to think about it. This is another change in my life that might make living more enjoyable. I mean, I'll be giving Alex a home and he'll be giving me some well needed company, so it's a win-win situation for both of us.

"Jack," the shorter man muffled into my shoulder, "Can you let go of me now? I can't really breathe."

I released him with a chuckle, only to notice a shade of pink littering his face. Why was he blushing? Probably because he's had to say some embarrassing things to me, right? Yeah, sounds plausable.

"Sorry," I apologized, "I'm just rather excited to have a roommate now."

I walked backwards and plopped myself down on my couch, flicking on the T.V. for some mindless entertainment. It was a Sunday, and I never worked on Sundays. Normally, I would make myself sick trying to figure out a way to entertain myself. Maybe Alex and I can do something.

I looked over at the caramel haired man, only to see him still standing where I left him. He seemed to be debating something in his head, opening his mouth only to shut it again.

"Hey man, watcha need?" I questioned.

He glanced at me and then looked down, mumbling something incoherent.

"I'm sorry, you gotta talk louder," I said, holding a hand to my ear.

"C-can I use your shower?" he quietly asked, probably hoping I wouldn't hear him again.

I shook my head and laughed. Hopefully he'll learn to be more comfortable soon.

I stood up and said, "Follow me," before walking through the hallway and to the first door. "Here is the bathroom. We'll go to the store and get you your own shampoo and stuff later today if you want to. For now, you can use my stuff." I turned to face him, "There are also some spare razors under the sink if you want to clean up your face." I joked. His facial hair was on the thin line of looking like he meant to do it and looking homeless. I mean, if you looked at him, he seemed to take as much care of his appearance as possible, despite living on the streets. How he managed to look as clean as he did when I first met him, I didn't know. I'll need to ask.

I exited the bathroom and walked over to the laundry room, grabbing a fresh towel off of the rack above the washing machine and throwing it to him.

"Here you go. Your clothes should be clean by now. I'll leave them outside the door for you." I began taking his clothing, along with some of mine, out of the dryer, hearing a whispered "thank you" and a click of a door.

I smiled. I knew that man had a voice to him. I mean, his singing is rather incredible. Maybe I can get him to open up and speak louder than a child who is constantly being reprimanded.

My smile soon slipped as I searched for his clothes, noticing just how worn and torn they really were: A black, holy shirt; a pair of baggy jeans that looked to be too big for Alex, both legs having questionable stains and large holes in the knees; and a pair of red boxers that didn't even look like boxers anymore. These, especially the boxers, couldn't be comfortable to wear.

I debated whether I should throw them away and tell Alex they got ruined in the wash, but decided that he might not really like that. I didn't want him wearing these, though. I ended up folding them and putting them away in the dresser in his room. Afterwards, I crossed the hall and into my own room. I knew I had clothes that either didn't fit me or I didn't wear. I can give them to him. Maybe I'll even buy him some new clothes later.

Deciding that I should probably throw some clothes on to make myself look halfway decent, I entered my own room and threw on a plain grey t-shirt and some black sweats. I then grabbed one of my old blink-182 t-shirts and a pair of grey sweatpants, placing them in front of the bathroom door before scurring back into the living room.

It wasn't until about an hour later when I heard Alex call my name. I tore my eyes away from the television screen which was playing some cooking show to land on a half naked Alex, his hair dripping wet and a towel fastened around his waist. My eyes focused on the noticeability of his ribs, causing a frown to play on my lips.

"St-stop staring at me," he mumbled nervously, moving his body weight from foot to foot. He seemed to compose himself when he remembered why he needed my attention. He raised his hands to show me the clothes that I had laid outside for him.

"These aren't mine," he said.

"I know. They're some of mine that don't fit anymore." was my only response as I turned my head back to the lady making some sort of fancy chicken dish, hearing an audible growl from my stomach. Pizza sounded nice. "If you want to know where your clothes are, I put them in your room."

He stood there with a thoughtful look on his face for a moment. "Where's the rest of my stuff at?"

With my eyes still focused on the screen and my stomach growing louder by the second, I let him know that that stuff was also in his room. He seemed to be fine with that answer as he retreated back into the hallway.

I was just about ready to call him into the living room to ask him if he wanted something to eat, seeing as it's not close to five o'clock, when I heard a grief-ridden yell resound throughout the apartment.

I rushed to his room as fast as I could and threw the door open.

"Alex?" I desperately said.

He was standing at the foot of his bed, now with clothes on, with his acoustic in two pieces in his hands and tears falling from his cheeks.

He looked at me and quivered out, "Th-those bastards. They t-took the money I had saved a-and th-the-they-" He was cut off by a sob that racked through his entire body. I looked at the bed to see his guitar case open and a note inside. I cautiously walked towards it and picked it up. The note had one single sentence scrawled out on it.

We'll be back.

I ran my fingers through my hair.

"They must have done this before I threatened to call the cops on them." I looked up at him, "Alex, I'm so sorry."

He didn't say anything, he just stood there looking at his mangled instrument as sobs continued to slip through his lips. He just looked so broken, like part of him was taken from him and smashed. Did it mean that much to him?

I gently took the guitar away from him, not expecting him to give it up that easily, and I placed it back in it's case. As soon as my hands left the neck and base of the guitar, they were wrapping around Alex's small frame, bringing him closer to me. With that, he let it all out, let the anguish that came with losing something so close to him flow out with his tears. I feel that this might have been the straw that broke the camels back, because the sorrow that I felt coming out of him seemed like years and years of pent up emotions, years of being on the streets, alone, with no one to comfort him and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

But, this time, I was there for him.

I hushed him, repeatedly telling him that everything was going to be alright. I stroked his hair as he burrowed himself further into my chest. Instinctively, I hugged him tighter.

We stood like that for a good few minutes. When his breathing started evening out, I let my death grip on him go. He stepped back and looked at me with red and puffy eyes.

Thank you, he mouthed and gave me a sad but sincere smile.

I just stood there and stared at him. When he smiled, I felt a strange, fluttery feeling go off in my stomach. It's probably because you're hungry, I though, Go get food, dumb dumb.

I returned his smile and put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a bit. "C'mon, I'll order pizza. Pizza always makes things better."