Page 7 of Viking Ink

“Mostly just grazes, but there is a nasty boot print right here.” Simon gently touched my lower ribs. “I’m not going to ask about the other scars. You can tell me about them or not. It’s not my place to push.” His large hand gave my shoulder a soft squeeze.

Again, I found myself fighting back tears, so unused to words of comfort that they struck me hard. Blinking, I managed to nod, glad Simon would not push for answers. I knew those scars were ugly. They reminded me every time I saw them how of much of a failure and embarrassment I was to my father.

Almost as if sensing me getting lost in my thoughts, Simon’s rumbling voice brought me out of the memories. “Okay, lad, let’s get you into a warm shower.”

Simon stood, bringing me up with him, and without dropping my hand he led me through to a small but tidy bathroom. The combined shower/bath had a jaunty seascape shower curtain with bright blue dolphins and octopus covering its surface. It was a splash of whimsy that brought a smile to my bruised face.

“Hot water takes a bit, but once it’s running it’s brilliant. There’s soap in the holder and shampoo if you want.” Simon pointed to my hair. “You’ve got some dried blood in it.”

I brought my hand up to my forehead and felt the dried blood at my hairline. Yuck.

“Do you need a hand, lad?”

Blushing crimson, I stammered out that I’d be okay. Simon nodded, telling me he would find some clean clothes for me, and then he left. The bathroom started to fill with steam as I got the taps running, and I slowly stripped out of my clothes. My jeans and jumper were going to need to be cleaned—blood had soaked into them. They were the only jeans I had. I’d not had time to grab much when I left home.

Stepping carefully under the warm stream of water, I let it work its magic, soothing the aches and newly forming bruises. I used a fresh washcloth and slowly washed myself, already feeling better. My eyes drifted down and I stifled a giggle when I saw the bright yellow rubber duck sitting on the side of the tub. It seemed so out of place in the big, gruff tattooist’s bathroom.

Grabbing the shampoo from the shower caddy, I took a sniff. It smelled slightly herbal, with hints of sandalwood and spice and I realised that it was the scent I was coming to associate with Simon. Lathering up, I started to carefully wash my hair. I felt relief when I was finally clean. My scalp stung from the abrasions, but I felt better than I had. I turned off the shower and stepped out onto the mat. My ribs ached as I grabbed the fluffy towel to wrap around my hips.

There was a soft rap at the door. “You decent? I have some clothes for you.”

I pulled open the door.

Simon’s gaze drifted over my barely covered body, and then snapped back to my face, a light dusting of pink settling on his cheeks. “Here, I got you these. Might be a bit big on you, but they’re clean and warm.” His eyes focused on a point above my shoulder as he held out a small pile of clothes.

“Thank you.” I reached out and grabbed the clothes from his hands, trying to avoid his gaze and keep my towel from dropping and embarrassing us both.

Simon looked lost for a moment. “Ah, I’ve got soup on, and I can make some cheese on toast if you want.”

My stomach gave a soft growl at the thought of food. I’d not stopped during the day to eat, trying to save the money I had, and a hot bowl of soup sounded heavenly.

“Thank you, that sounds really good.” I gestured at the clothes. “I’ll get dressed and be right out.”

Simon nodded, giving me one last smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, Rhys. You had me worried.”

My chest filled with a warm burst of affection for the man in front of me. I wasn’t accustomed to anyone being concerned about my welfare. “I’m just glad you found me. I’d probably still be laying out behind those bins.”

“Think nothing of it. I’ll leave you to get dressed.” Simon moved off down the small corridor and I began to get changed.

The sweatshirt was soft and smelt of laundry detergent and traces of aftershave, and it was warm and comfortable. The track pants were miles too big on me, and even cinched tight at the waist they still sat low on my hips, but, like the sweatshirt, they were soft and comfortable. Wearing Simon’s clothes felt like being held in a warm hug, and it made something flutter in my chest.

When I went into the living room, Simon wasn’t there, but I could hear him moving about further into the flat. Following the sounds through to a small back bedroom, I found Simon moving boxes aside and muttering under his breath. I stood for a moment watching, unabashedly staring at Simon’s muscular legs as he bent to pick a box up and move it aside. Those jeans should be illegal. I mentally noted the way they wrapped around Simon’s thighs, and blushed hotly when Simon turned and saw me standing there staring.

“You look better,” he said with a smile as he looked me up and down. He moved in closer again, and I was made aware of our differences in height. He towered over my five foot four frame, but I didn’t feel intimidated by him—quite the opposite. I felt safe in his company and found his size comforting. I shuffled a bit, feeling awkward and not sure what to do.

“Sorry the clothes are a bit big, but they seem to work alright.” Simon’s eyes twinkled. “They look good on you.”

I blushed and looked down at myself, shrugging. “They feel nice—soft and comfortable. I’ve not really got much stuff. Mostly just my jeans and a couple of shirts. Nothing comfortable like this.”

“Well, you’re welcome to keep them. The jumper was getting too tight across the chest, and I’ll be honest, it looks better on you.” Simon smiled.

I didn’t know what to say. I’d never been told I looked good in anything. If Simon didn’t stop with being so nice, my crush was just going to get worse. I knew nothing would ever come of it, but it was nice having someone look out for me. Maybe I’d just enjoy it while I could.

I looked around the room. It had a double bed with a soft looking duvet that was covered in throw pillows. A small blanket box stood at the end, and there was a dresser against one wall. The rest of the space was filled with boxes.

“What are you doing?”

Simon blinked. “Ah, look. I know you’re sleeping rough, and I have this spare room not being used, and it’s close to the square for your busking. And to be honest, with the bashing you took, I’m not comfortable with you sleeping at one of the shelters.” He looked embarrassed.

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