Chapter Nine
Bowie
He curled in as tight as he could get, trying to become as small as possible, his thoughts sluggish after no sleep or food.
Avoid Kari.
Avoid Kari.
Avoid Kari.
It was silly when Kari could see and smell him, given he’d done nothing to clean himself up. He could see how pathetic he was. Kari would too, and then he’d sack him. Bowie had let him down. He’d let everyone down.
He wants to help us. You can hear him, don’t play pretend. Please let him help us. Say yes to him touching. Come on. You never listened to me before, you have to this time.
Bowie had shut out his animal when it nagged at him to ignore Rex’s barrage and get up off the floor.
Only, Rex had sucked away any desire to move with the hurt weighing him down.
He remained where he’d landed—wet, in pain, mortified, and wounded in ways he’d never been before in his life.
His family and his adoptive family had crushed his soul, but they’d never laid hands on him. Never hit him.
Rex…
He whimpered mournfully at how he had done nothing to protect himself.
How desperate he’d been to be loved; he had ignored all the signs that Rex was using him.
The words Rex had hammered into him were on repeat.
Sinking into the fabric of his being, ensuring there was no mistaking what a pitiful creature he was.
The strength of Kari’s familiar aftershave increased, and the presence of warmth, letting Bowie know just how close he was.
Words brushed over his ear. “Bowie, I need you to give me permission to touch. Until you do, I’m gonna stay right here until you’re ready. I promise I will not leave you.”
Bowie felt a thump in his chest at the caring voice. At the promise. Was it real?
Of course, it is. Kari is always honest with us, always! Say yes, please.
Too tired to deny how much he needed to believe Kari, he sniffled, inching his head back, his neck muscles screaming at the movement. Whimpering, he inched a little further back until his head was out of his knees.
His tear sticky eyes opened, then shut as they blurred, stinging at the brightness coming through the windows.
“You can leave, I’ve got this.”
“If you’re sure?” a voice Bowie vaguely recognized asked.
“I am,” Kari replied softly.
There was a distant sound of a door shutting.
Bowie couldn’t bring himself to care that someone else had seen how pathetic he was as he whispered hoarsely, “Yes.” His eyelids fluttered open.
“Good boy,” Kari murmured, shifting closer still. “There you are.” A gentle fingertip wiped away a stray tear. “I’m going to help you to the bathroom, and I’m going to take care of you, so you don’t need to worry. But first, can you tell me if you’re hurt anywhere besides your throat?”
The authority was nothing like Rex's. There was a softness, like the warm caress of a fleece blanket to his chilled skin for the briefest moment until his sluggish mind registered what Kari was referring to. He scrunched his eyes shut at the wave of humiliation.
“No, Babycakes, you’re not hiding from me.” Eyes firing open, startled, Bowie stared at Kari. “This is not your fault. So, tell me where else hurts.”
Did Kari really believe that when he didn’t know what Bowie had done? He carefully lifted his elbow, only to whine pathetically at how it throbbed and seemed locked in place. “Elbow,” sobbed Bowie.
“Okay, Babycakes, just leave it like that and I’ll try to avoid it.”
His heart took flight, and he went rigid at the arm sliding around his back and the other under his knees. Right under the stinking, pee dried pants. He released a startled cry at being scooped up off the floor like he weighed very little. Bowie knew differently.
“Did I hurt you?”
It took seconds to get the air into his chest and for his voice box to work. “Not you,” he managed in a croak, unable to point out how sorry he was Kari had to touch his stinky self.
They were moving when Kari spoke next. “Was it Rex who hurt you?”
The shuddery breath came out as a distressed noise at the question when Kari easily figured it out. Bowie just bobbed his head, dipping his chin, hiding his shame.
“You don’t need to hide from me, Babycakes.”
Despite the fluttering he felt right under his breastbone, Bowie was confused at how Kari kept referring to him as ‘babycakes’. No one had ever had a nickname for him, and he didn’t get why Kari did.
“I’m going to help you get undressed and showered.”
There wasn’t a memory he had of anyone offering to help him in this way.
His parents must have bathed him at some point when he was little, but Bowie had no recollection of it.
His tired and sluggish brain didn’t know how to respond.
Not that it was a question. Or was it? If it was, what was the right answer?
Yes. Yes, is the right answer.
Are you sure?
You need to listen to me this time.
The firmness made Bowie’s guilt grow. “I’m sorry.”
Kari paused in the bathroom doorway, looking down at him. “Sorry for what, Babycakes.”
Heat filled his pale cheeks at how he’d spoken aloud. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he muttered through his mortification. Could this be any worse? He couldn’t see how.
The chuckles coming from Kari brushed his cheek right before he was carefully lowered to the floor.
Every muscle sang its own uncoordinated tune, with a dose of pins and needles adding to the throbbing elbow.
Bowie moaned in distress and on reflex, reached out to grab at Kari to steady himself when his legs didn’t feel able to hold him up, only he used the arm Rex had kicked.
“Ooowwwieee,” he cried out.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Kari wrapped an arm around Bowie’s waist and guided him to the toilet. He put the seat lid down and helped Bowie lower onto it.
Sitting, his bladder woke up, and he cried harder with the urgency to pee fighting the desire to hold still as the blood returned to his limbs. The terror of peeing his pants once more was real.
Kari’s eyes narrowed in concern, then he placed his hands under Bowie’s arms. “You need to use the toilet?” It came out like a question, but Bowie didn’t need to answer. “Hold on to my waist and I’ll help you.”
He released a moan of distress, squirming on the seat. He was sweating so badly at this point, it felt like he was sitting under a heat lamp. Bowie knew his legs wouldn’t hold him up, and he didn’t want to wet himself in front of Kari. It somehow felt worse doing that in front of Kari.
He dropped his head, crying silently. His hands bunched into Kari’s suit jacket, and he moved with him when he lifted Bowie carefully.
He hid his damp face in Kari’s jacket when he fumbled awkwardly, lifting the seat, then undoing Bowie’s trousers one handed and working to tug them down one side at a time until his bottom was bare.
At this point, Bowie didn’t think his face could get any hotter, despite the tears, when Kari took hold of his dick and moved it to point at the toilet bowl beneath him.
“Pee for me.”
Of all the things Bowie considered he would hear Kari say, that was never on the list, and yet somehow, he did as he was told, crying the whole time.
They muddled through, and Bowie’s head shut off when he found himself naked with water splashing on tiles as Kari waited for the shower to warm.
Emotionally exhausted, Bowie left Kari to it. He followed instructions as Kari washed and dried him, putting some of the soothing cream Bowie had in the cupboard on his neck and elbow. Finally, he carried him back into the bedroom wrapped in towels.
Lethargic, his body like a string of spaghetti, Bowie’s head lolled forward when seated on his bed, his eyes closed. He tugged the towel draped over his shoulders closer to him, thinking he could just lie back and go to sleep. Hide.
The sound of drawers opening and shutting, followed shortly by the noise of his closet door creaking, brought Bowie’s head up and his eyes flying open.
The alarm registered a second or two later at what was hidden inside, accompanied by the lingering barbs in his skin from Rex’s nastiness about what he had in the closet.
“Nooooo.”
Kari glanced back at him with a look of inquiry, brows merged.
Bowie could see his teddy bears sitting on the shelf, and he didn’t know how to explain what he wanted, feeling faint.
Kari shifted his attention back to the closet and without hesitation picked up the oldest, tatty blue bear and carried it to Bowie.
He braced, waiting for the diatribe. The man in front of him crouched, a soft smile gracing his full lips.
“He’s a cute bear. Does he have a name?” he asked, placing it in Bowie’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
In automatic response, when Boo-Boo was his comforter, and he needed it with how unsure he was about Kari’s reaction, he clutched it to him. It was nothing like he’d expected. Then, nothing of what had happened since Kari had found him was. He had no energy to work out why.
When Bowie remained tongue-tied, Kari rose and went back to the closet. “There is a snuggly pair of slouch pants and a matching top on the shelf. I think they’re perfect for bear snuggle time.”
How did Kari know that?
He said it so matter-of-factly, Bowie blinked slowly as he tried and failed to understand what was happening.
Kari dressed him in the outfit wordlessly, then stood in front of him and used the towel from around his shoulders to rub gently at Bowie’s wet hair as he smiled softly at him.
Bowie brought Boo-Boo to his chest and hugged him without thought, warmth flowing through him like liquid caramel sliding over sticky toffee pudding.
Kari threaded his fingers through Bowie’s hair, fingernails gently grazing his scalp, and Bowie leaned instinctively into the touch.
“There. You’re such a good boy,” Kari murmured, adding to the feeling blossoming in Bowie’s chest. “That should do. Now, let’s get you settled in bed, and I’ll make you something to eat.”
True to his word, Bowie was snuggled under the covers, resting against the headboard, his bear clutched against him, when Kari returned with a tray. It was the most surreal day of Bowie’s life. From pain to comfort. How was this possible? He didn’t know.
Kari perched on the free side of the bed and placed the tray over Bowie’s lap. On it were scrambled eggs, bacon, and a side of pancakes with a pot of maple syrup. His belly woke up and gurgled loudly in appreciation of the smells coming from the steaming food.
Bowie wasn’t sure why he didn’t reach for the cutlery. Instead, he peeked under his eyelashes at Kari, waiting. For what, he didn’t know. Kari’s behaviour just told some part of him that he should.
When Kari beamed at him and reached for the fork to scoop up some eggs, Bowie blushed while leaning forward, lips parting.
Silently, Kari fed him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he dug out a memory of once being very sick and he’d been helped to eat a bowl of soup.
The feelings right now were not dissimilar, except Kari displayed no frustration at helping him in this way like his foster carer had.
Kari picked up a cloth and dabbed at the corner of Bowie’s mouth when he’d finished everything. Then he reached for the glass of apple juice, bringing it closer.
Bowie tightened his hold on Boo-Boo and, not quite meeting Kari’s gaze, he drank the sweet drink.
When he’d finished, Kari placed the cup back on the tray. “I’ll just tidy up and then we should talk about what happened.”
Bowie wanted to hide. To protest. But he did none of that and nodded when Kari patiently waited for his response.
“Good boy.”
Bowie glowed inside at the praise. He wanted to be a good boy, he really did.