Page 17 of Pippin & Nacho

“You’re never a burden. Ever. You hear me?”

He nodded, still looking uncertain. I’d learned enough over the years with Sam that it took more than words to heal someone. He really needed a professional.

“I understand your fears, but I’m worried that eventually I won’t be enough to help you,” I admitted. “Years have gone by, and… things aren’t improving for you. I’m just not qualified to help you sometimes, though I really try.”

His eyes met mine with furrowed brows. “You’re so wrong, Nate. So very wrong. You’ve got no idea how good you make me feel. Yes, I still struggle, but fuck, if I didn’t have you…”

He didn’t need to say the words, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear them. I often wondered what would’ve happened to him if he had no one he could cling to or have as a best friend.

The very idea of him all alone, suffering, made me want to scream or hurt something—hurt the very people who tried to destroy someone as special as Sam. He may suffer from time to time, but they didn’t destroy him, as he often claimed.

We found each other for a reason. Not only did he need me, but I needed him. Sam also helped me with my own personal demons and abandonment issues.

Maybe there was no such thing, but I believed in soul mates. Sam was mine. We existed for each other.

“This is your room,” says the portly man, my new foster father, who told me to call him Jimmy. One out of how many now? I never really knew since I didn’t learn how to count correctly until I was six years old.

“You have to share with Sampson. He’s a pain in the ass, so you’ll just have to suck it up. I have no more room for you. I wasn’t supposed to take another fucking kid in, but here we are.”

This will be another house that won’t ever want me. No one ever wants me. There was only that one time, about five years ago, when I was nine, a family talked about adopting me. My hopes had soared for the first time since I could remember. They were so nice, with a pretty home and a cute cat. But a few months later, the system dumped me off at another foster home. Ever since then, I’ve promised myself that I will never hold out hope again. Their abandonment had nearly crushed me. I sobbed for days afterward. My new foster parents had hated that, not knowing what to do with all my stupid crying.

The man leaves me alone with my roommate, sitting in his bed, pretending to read a book, but his green eyes keep darting at me over the edge of the book. His red hair looks like he cuts it himself. I love the color. I’d never met a redhead before.

“Hi, I’m Nathaniel, but everyone calls me Nate.”

“I’m Sampson. Sometimes people call me Sam.”

Sam looks to be a couple of years older than me. He’s definitely bigger. And he’s really, really cute. He looks like someone I would want to have as a boyfriend.

He gives me a shy smile that has my heart skipping a few beats. It sucks me in like no smile has done before. That’s when I noticed the fading bruise on his cheekbone.

“What happened?”

His smile faltered, and he shrugged. “I… I’m just a bad person. I make people angry too much.”

I don’t see it. He doesn’t seem bad to me at all. He looks beautiful and kind of shy.

“How are you bad?”

He shrugs again, unable to look at me. “I dunno… I forget things too much and don’t do as I’m told. I can’t help that I forget stuff all the time. It’s hard to remember everything.”

“You get into trouble because you forget stuff, and they… hit you for it?”

“They try not to, but I make them so mad. I’m really bad and worthless. That’s what Jim calls me… that, and he calls me a piece of shit.”

My hands fist tightly, and my heart beats too fast with this sudden urge to protect Sam. I don’t know where this protective need comes from. I’ve had plenty of foster brothers and sisters in my life. Some were better than others, but I never attached myself to anyone because everything in life is temporary.

“Then I’ll help you remember.”

He bites his bottom lip as he smiles. “Thanks.” His voice is just a whisper, but I feel his appreciation and need for a friend.

Yes, I would spend the rest of my life without someone else as long as Sam was always with me, even only as friends.

The bus ride to Federal Hill didn’t take too long. Honestly, Nate and I should’ve just skated there, but the bus had heaters, and we were going to be in the cold for several hours. With thick, worn blankets tucked under our arms and backpacks packed with a thermos of hot chocolate, bottled water, and our boards, we stepped off the bus and walked toward the pizza joint nearby.

I was limping because my kneecap was still bruised and swollen with the stitches pulling and tugging, but I could walk pretty well.

We ordered a large pizza, half with pepperoni, onions, and mushrooms for Nate, and the other half with only cheese for me. I wasn’t as adventurous when I ate, despite my ability to make delicious mixed drinks. I liked my food simple after months of being forced to eat horrible meals during that camp from hell and eating old food while on the streets. Not to mention we barely got the basics in foster care. Foster homes didn’t give us many opportunities to try unique foods. Nate was more adventurous than me, but not by much.

---