Sol breathed in. He had already decided how to start it, and when to end it. However, it was all the things in-between that gave him difficulties. Even so, he spoke, it was better to just get it over with.
"We never really had a lot. My family, that is. It was me, Sam, mom and dad. We lived in a small apartment, my mom was a kindergarten teacher and worked as a social worker as a part-time job. My dad was a hairdresser and a barber. He had his own shop, but it was a poor area, so he didn't earn a whole lot. We never starved, but the end of most months were spent eating discount packs of mac and cheese, holding on until the next pay came, and most of my clothes were hand-me-downs or bought used. But we were happy, you know. A close family. I was 12 when we found out about my mother's bone marrow cancer. In the beginning, I didn't really get how serious it was. It was cancer, but the doctors spoke so optimistically, talked about a high chance of survival, and her being healthy. Suddenly, it wasn't like that anymore, suddenly it was obvious that we didn't have the resources to help her, and that her condition got a lot worse.
My family was falling apart at that point. My father didn't deal with the grief or guilt over not having the resources very well, while Sam got involved gangs and bad people. He started staying out all night and returning the next day, as angry when he arrived as he had been when he left. Full of bruises, of course, he was mostly fighting. Him and my dad would argue loudly. I mostly cried, but never where anyone could see it. I would hide in my room and, just, cry, for hours almost every day. I cried so much that when my mother died, I couldn't cry anymore, and I couldn't bring myself to cry at her funeral. In some ways, I was relieved when she died, because her condition was extremely painful, and it was terrible watching her grow weaker, slowly dying with no miracle to save her. After her death, my dad had to deal with the hospital costs. We sold our apartment and moved into a smaller, even shittier one. We sold most of my stuff too, Sam's stuff, dad's shop, only thing we kept was the TV and my mother's stuff. My mother's stuff that none of us could use anyways. It was the first sign of that dad wouldn't be able to tend to us."
Sol took his hat off, eyes still kept on it, and started moving it around in his hands, flipping it back and forth.
"What followed was the worst period of my life. I Was 14 years old, and I'd just lost my mother. Dad started drinking, or, no, he'd already been drinking a lot, but after mom died, he started drinking all the time. We had some social benefits or something due to our situation, and most of it was spent on alcohol. Sam basically moved out to live on the streets, and I was left with dad. He wasn't a violent drunk, he never touched me, but he'd still abuse me, neglect and psychological abuse, I'd call it. I had no emotional or physical support. I had to scrape money together from what I could take without dad noticing, to have some food. A lot of the time the only meal I had during the day was the lunch I got at school. Weekends were terrible, I usually managed to hide away enough money to get something small, but it was just that terrible mac and cheese. At first, I'd go home with my friends and smile and pretend everything was fine. Escape reality for a little while, and even stay over and get some decent meals. But I didn't really feel at ease at school anymore, and I think people noticed, because they distanced themselves from me. My grades went to hell, I'd been one of the better students at the school, and suddenly I was failing everything. Some months in, Sam noticed that I didn't eat well, so he started coming over during the weekends, always when dad was passed out or out buying more booze, and even taking me out to eat at some cheap restaurants. He wanted me to stay at home though, to at least wait till I was done with high school.
He changed his mind when he stayed a little too long, six months in, and heard how my dad talked to me, about how I was a monster because I didn't cry during my mom's funeral, how I was a spoiled little brat who tried to spend his money on crap. He said a lot, a lot of it while yelling, but I didn't really react to it, because I knew that a couple of hours later he'd mutter an apology or start crying or something, and this had become the norm for me. Still, I didn't hesitate to go with Sam when he asked if I wanted to stay where he was staying. It was somewhere I would get food several times a day and where he'd kick the ass of anyone who even tried looking at me wrong. I left home that same day, I brought a pillow, a blanket, and my clothes. Sam asked me if I wanted to bring my school-stuff, but I refused, I was done with that, I was failing everything either way, and besides, if I kept going to school, my dad could find me. Looking back at it, I'm not even sure he tried to look, at least during following month."
Sol took a brief moment to distance himself from the feelings back then, and then spoke again, a little quicker as if to make it pass quicker.
"My brother and I became part of a gang of teens that lived in an abandoned warehouse. I was the youngest one there, but by the time I was taken there, Sam had already managed to make quite the position for himself, so no one messed with me. A lot of the others were terrified of him, and I get why, he was terrifying when he got angry. Still is, though he is a lot calmer now. Happier. I don't know what to say about living on the streets. I was with them for two years, and we mostly picked people's pockets and drank. Some got high instead, Sam did, on a lot of stuff, how he managed to stave of an actual addiction is beyond me. He didn't touch alcohol, and got furious with me when I got too drunk, because of dad. We disagreed on that bit, I felt like it was because he used alcohol as a way to bury his sad emotions, thus me drinking when I was happy wasn't that bad, while Sam meant it was the alcohol itself. I still don't drink when I'm sad or angry or anything like that. Only to celebrate, make it something good. But, you know. I used to drink a lot more than I do now, and I don't think it was healthy, no matter the intention.
Sam might have been right, but his way of showing it was terrible. Sometimes, when he was high on something strong or in a bad mood, he'd pin me to the wall and scream at me. I'd yell back, as angry as him, and we'd continue until one of us broke down and started crying, or, in my cause, whimpering. One time he almost broke my arm, he'll never let himself forget that. I think that might be why he started cutting down on drugs as well, I don't know, I left about a week later so I never saw the effect for myself. Even so, when we weren't fighting, we were protecting each other, trying to keep some sort of resemblance of brotherhood. We left on good enough terms, even if he scared me when he got violent. I mean, he was just a teen as well, and, well, it was too much for both of us. He's done an amazing job to pull himself together, so much it feels unfair."
Sol bit his tongue, he was getting off track and there were still more things.
"Of course, my time living on the streets changed me in some ways. There was someone closer to my age there, a boy that had been thrown out of his house because of his sexuality. We got along well enough, there never was any love, no crush, but we were attracted to each other, and fooling around was a good way to pass the time. When you live in a small abandoned warehouse, don't have school or a job or anything, it doesn't matter how much time you spend stealing stuff. You can't do it too often, and you end up with a lot of free time. He didn't do a lot of stealing either, thought it was beneath him, so he spent most of his time smoking weed when I wasn't around. When I was around... well, we did do talk a lot too, but I had a high sex-drive, so that was one of my favorite things to do. Apart from drinking and climbing, of course. I don't know how Sam felt about it, I got the feeling he couldn't really tell me off either way. This friend of mine, he mostly went along with my whims, sometimes initiating it himself, but mostly just following my lead. He could be rather passive, so he wasn't a very exciting person. I still felt sad when he suddenly up and left though, apparently his aunt and uncle wanted to take him in, and they had a lot of money. He didn't even ask if I wanted to go along with him, but I think that's because he felt like he was better than me, that he was just in an unfortunate situation, while I liked stealing and drinking and all that. In that regard, he was a fucking prick."
He chuckled, bitterly, almost looking over at Luke. However, he was afraid of seeing the other's expression, and just decided to keep going.
"Other than that, I spent the time trying to be somewhat presentable. I got a membership at a gym so I'd have access to a shower, but it became more than that. Remember that gym I took you to in LA to go rock-climbing? That place was my second home for two years. I think they might've known I was paying for the membership with stolen money, they at the very least knew I was homeless, because I went into the shower before going to the gym, and then afterwards. But the manager of the place treated me well, after a few months I got a "superb membership locker", which just happened to have access to soap and shampoo, as well as as a tovel, and it just happened to get replaced every now and then. I think my interest in climbing, despite my situation, might have gained me some respect. Or they just liked me. Still, it wasn't enough to deter me from the path of becoming a thief, a real one. At some point during the years after my mother's diagnosis, I stopped feeling as if I had much of a choice. By the time I was living on the streets, becoming a criminal felt like the only thing I could do. I don't know how to explain it, it felt like this suffocating feeling of needing to get out of the situation, to do more than just simply survive. Stealing stuff from rich people was the answer I came up with.
And I was good, which is probably not what you wanted to hear, but it felt like I had finally found the thing I should do. I was a natural climber already from before I went to the gym, but now I could make it into people's houses by climbing up using their windows and doors. And I had a mind for it, I'd been put in charge of the pick-pocketing once they realized how sly I could be. I learned how to pick a lock and how to disable alarms in mere months, it felt as if I had finally risen to the level of the rich, that I was challenging them. Add some rather big donations to the poor and I felt like a modern Robin Hood. I felt... well, I felt like a master thief, especially as I dove deeper into the underground and started getting people I could contact. Fences, swindlers, other thieves, people who knew how to do this. And I did a lot to make sure they'd not just throw me aside, offering them sexual favours being one of them. And you'd think it'd be ineffectual to offer stuff like that to mostly straight guys, but, well, I became someone more unique in their mind, someone not easily replaced. And a lot of them took me up on the offer too, though it was mostly hand-jobs and oral sex. Besides, I was young, and people found my personality appealing. The better someone likes you, the more likely is it that they'll risk their own skin to help you. But it also reinforced the already strong idea within me that you couldn't trust or rely on anyone. I lived from month to month on the stuff I stole from mansions and expensive apartments, and made sure to always have some degree of luxury myself. I never stole a lot at a time, though. I must've broken into, what, 70 or 80 places during the five years I was active, and I'm certainly not loaded now. In some senses, I still have a lot of pride in regards to what I managed to pull off, but I don't want to, and I don't like how it makes me feel."
He heard Luke shift in the bed and looked over, but only at Luke's lower body, just so that the other wouldn't suddenly leave.
"Anyhow, one day, at age 21, I messed up and got myself nearly killed during a heist. Elizabeth saved my ass and offered me a choice, since my actions had pissed off some slug-mob. I could either leave the country and be safe, or become a hunter and protect myself through strength. I chose the latter, and I don't regret it. She took me under her wing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was something else I could be that wouldn't be a criminal or a lowlife, or anything like that. Something heroic and cool even. And I think you know all the other stuff, I've told you so much about my life as a hunter already, since it's the only part of my past I like thinking about." Sol smiled, but put the hat back and turned away from Luke.
"You know, I'm kind of afraid of hearing your impression from that. It might be better if you just leave." He could hear Luke stand up, and was expecting the other to do just that. However, then he felt the bed give in as Luke crawled towards him. The blonde put the thin duvet over Sol's shoulders, covering his body and sat down next to him, their sides touching. He carefully pushed Sol's hat up and put a chips in front of Sol's mouth, holding it there until Sol bit onto it, and then kissing Sol's cheek.
"Thank you, Sol. I'm going to reply with a story of my own. Promise not to interrupt or leave, okay?"
"I'll try," Sol replied, wondering what Luke was getting at, and reached out to get some of the snacks, feeling a little lighter now that everything was said and done. The kiss had certainly helped too. Luke smiled brightly, then looked forwards, towards the wall on the other side of the room.
"You know, I remember, there was this guy I met a while back. It has to be, I dunno, 3 months ago now. I was at a party with my pack, drinking to feel like I fit in and casually hitting on girls I had no interest in, trying to pretend I was straight. Suddenly, a tall guy entered, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I'm not sure if he looked more like a cowboy or a rogue from a fantasy setting, though I settled on cowboy once I heard the American accent, I mean, along with the leather coat, the hat and the scarf, his scruffy looks just seemed like he'd fit right into a western. Anyhow, he was appealing to me, he was handsome, and you know, he was dorky in an awesomely cool way. But even more so, not long after arriving, he already had a crowd around him, people he dodn't know who were drawn towards him despite of how out of place he looked. And as I watched him, our eyes met, he had beautiful green eyes that seemed so full of life, despite also having this calm, comforting feature to him. He was so confident. Before I knew it, we were talking. Only the two of us, in a more quiet part of the dorm we were partying at. He was a hunter, and I was a werewolf, yet he seemed like the most understanding person I'd ever met. I'd been eating chips, similar to these, and at some point, he broke off a piece of the one I had my mouth and put it in his own mouth, his fingers touching my lips as he broke off the piece. His skin was so warm, and it made me feel so hot and tingly inside."
Sol felt himself blush a bit when Luke spoke about his very clear attempt at flirting in such a dreamy manner, but he had promised not to interrupt. Even if this was getting rather cheesy.
"Of course, I assume he knew about my sexual preferences at that point. Before I was sure of it myself, even. Imagine, a guy I'd just met a couple of hours ago could see right through me, and mess with my mind that badly. But even if he did end up jump-kicking the door to my closet open, he did it in such a careful and considerate fashion, it never felt forced or unnatural. Besides, more so than his flirting and attractiveness, what I noticed was how bright he was. Bright and warm, confident and charming. His presence felt like the sun itself. He made me feel so much more at ease with myself, he still does. Eventually, we bonded, we had sex, and then he left his scarf as this gesture to see if I'd return it, making up a silly excuse to meet me again. And by then, I was so taken with him that when I met him the next day, I asked him out. I couldn't help it, my mind kept telling me; "I want to see him, I want to talk to him, and I want to be close to him". Besides, he was really good in bed, even if I didn't really have much of a reference point. I just knew. And then... well, then I got to know him, but moreso, I got a chance to reevaluate myself. He was safe and understanding, and I could show him myself, my real self, with the sci-fi and fantasy and anime and everything. The stuff I hide from the pack because of how "unmanly" and "uncool" it is. I got more confident, even my position in the pack has gotten a lot more secure, simply because people can sense that genuine confidence. I've been more emotional these 3 months than I ever was, the thought of being without him makes me feel sad and empty. He's made me the happiest I've been, and yet the most emotional I've ever felt.
And then, now, he's done something I'll never forget, he, no, you, listened to my selfish request and opened up. And now I can't help but feel like, well, I was wrong, I did know you, Sol. Even if there's details of your past I would never have guessed, I realized that you're still you, and that I almost like you even more. I didn't think you'd be this sensitive either, but I suppose that makes sense, with all that compassion you keep showing, you had to had this soft, squishy marshmallow core," He sat up a bit and kissed Sol's lips softly.
Sol kissed Luke back, relieved, a little confused, but relieved nonetheless.