Ephemeral

Short Story.

[Written for an exam. The first two sentences were the prompt.]

The two coins in his pockets clinked together as he stumbled down the cold pavement, the holes in his shoes turning his feet into blocks of ice. His heart was warmed through, in the knowledge that he was rich.

The boy smiled to himself, though, it was more of a smirk. He decided that it had been a success, even if the bullet wound he had sustained earlier, now clumsily wrapped in a piece of ragged cloth, stained red, stung. He'd have to fix that later. The boy whistled to himself, as he continued walking down the pavement, he was used to the frigid cold, and despite his adrenaline fading away, he was still able to ignore the cool climate.

The boy rounded the corner and was met with a solid chest. He stopped, as he slowly looked up, shoulders tending and completely ready to turn tail and flee, if need be, but it was only Jack, his caretaker of sorts. The boy’s shoulders sagged in relief, for a second, he had thought his
chasers had found him! After meeting Jack’s fierce glare with a flinch, the boy wondered if it would have been better to have been caught. Jack grabbed his ear and pulled, the boy let out a whine of protest, but another glare silenced him, so he resorted to crossing his arms and pouting to show his displeasure as the man dragged him into the house, closing the door and bolting it as he let go of the boy’s ear.

The boy attempted to make a run for it, eyes locking onto the still open window, only for the idea to be crushed as Jack locked that too, having already predicted it.

“Sit down,” Jack spoke simply, though, the boy knew it was a command. The boy sat down on the armchair, having the decency to look guilty as Jack tossed wood into the fireplace, lighting it with a match. Jack remained silent as he walked past the boy without a glance, heading to the kitchen. The boy fidgeted on the chair, even as the fire’s golden glow melted away the cold. Normally, the fire was warm and comforting, but today, it did nothing to reassure the boy.

Jack re-entered the room, a bottle of antiseptic in one hand, and a roll of clean linen bandages in the other. Once again, without a word, Jack removed the blood-stained rag, examining the wound before looking at the boy. The boy knew what was next as he braced himself for the familiar sting. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and by now, Jack had become rather adept at bandaging wounds. The boy looked at the fresh bandage once it was done before locking eyes with Jack’s emerald green ones. He hesitated.

“You’re not…” The boy looked for the right wording, voice an almost inaudible whisper. He was treading on thin ice. “You're not angry with me?” He finally asked. Jack smiled, a toothy grin, but it was fake, too wide, too cheerful. The boy flinched and he knew he had messed up.

“Oh, I’m not angry. I’m downright furious, but I know what’s more important.” Jack jerked his head toward the boy’s wound before continuing as his smile dropped. “I’m disappointed too, we’ve been through this before, and you haven’t learned, have you?” Jack sighed as he turned and prepared to leave.

“But I’m not dead!” The boy retorted, blurting it out without a second thought. It seemed that those words were only pouring fuel onto the fire, as Jack stopped, whipping around with a harsh glare. The boy froze.

“You could have been.” Jack’s voice was emotionless, and the boy felt a feeling of dread rise, the words he was about to say died down in the back of his throat as Jack continued. “You could have been dead, Sage. The bullet was only a few centimetres away from piercing an artery, or even worse, you could have been caught and sentenced and executed because we both know that the justice system is rigged and no one takes pity on orphans, especially not thieves!” With every word he spoke, Jack’s voice rose until it was full-out yelling. The boy dubbed as Sage flinched.

Jack’s voice softened as he walked over to Sage, kneeling down on one knee. “Sage, let me tell you a story. Five years ago, I found an orphan with black hair and hazel brown eyes on my doorstep, suffering from hypothermia. I took him in, taking care of him as if he were my very own son. I cared and worried for him, but old habits die hard. The boy was a pickpocketer and plain-out thief, but I loved him still. Five years later, and the same orphan I had raised, could have been on death’s doorstep instead.” Jack paused, letting the words sink in. “I worry about you, Sage, and I love you, but it is because I love you, that this cannot continue.” Jack spoke with an air of finality.

Sage looked down before mumbling. Jack raised an eyebrow. “What was that?” Sage repeated his statement.

“I’m sorry, but…” Sage reached into his pocket, pulling out the two gleaming golden coins, holding them out to Jack in the palm of his hand. “I only wanted to help, I know you’ve always wanted to get a proper operation…” He spoke quietly.

Jack sighed before offering a weak smile as he ruffled Sage’s hair. “Sage, as thoughtful as that is, seeing you alive and well means more to me than that.”