We Loved Until We Couldn’t Novel – Chapter 12
They actually looked a little too small for him — his jeans — because his ankles were showing.
But he was so thin that they fit him just fine everywhere else.
“Did you tell anyone?” he asked.
I looked at him when he spoke, and he was staring right back at me — nervous, almost afraid.
It was the first time I’d really looked at him.
His hair was dark brown, but I thought maybe if he washed it, it would be lighter — maybe even golden brown.
His eyes, though… they were startlingly bright. Real blue.
Like the kind you see on a Siberian husky.
I know that’s a weird comparison, but it’s the first thing that came to mind.
I shook my head and turned toward the window. I thought he might get up and move to another seat, since I said I hadn’t told anyone.
But he didn’t.
The bus made a few stops.
When he still didn’t move, I found a little courage.
In a whisper, I asked, “Why don’t you live at home with your parents?”
He stared at me for several seconds, deciding whether to trust me or not. Then he said, simply, “Because they don’t want me to.”
Then he stood.
At first, I thought I’d upset him. But then I realized — it was our stop.
I grabbed my bag and followed him off the bus.
Usually, he’d walk down the street and loop around the block so I wouldn’t see him slip into the old house behind ours.
But today, he didn’t bother.
He started walking toward my yard — right beside me.
When we reached the point where I’d normally turn toward my house and he’d keep walking, we both stopped.
He kicked at the dirt, eyes shifting toward my house.
“What time do your parents get home?” he asked.
“Around five,” I said. It was 3:45.
He nodded, looking like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.
After a moment, he just nodded again and started walking toward that dark, empty house — the one with no food, no electricity, and no running water.
Now, Nora, I know what I did next was stupid, so don’t lecture me.
I called out his name.
When he turned, I said, “If you hurry, you can take a shower before they get home.”
My heart was pounding so fast I thought it might burst.
If my parents came home and found a homeless boy in our bathroom, I’d probably die on the spot.
But I couldn’t just watch him walk away again — not when I could offer him something.
He looked down at the ground, shoulders tensing with embarrassment.
He didn’t even nod.
He just followed me quietly inside.
While he was in the shower, I panicked nonstop.
I kept peeking out the window, checking for either of my parents’ cars — even though I knew they wouldn’t be home for at least an hour.
I worried one of the neighbors might’ve seen him come in, but they didn’t know me well enough to think it was strange that I had company.
I’d given Julian a change of clothes, but I knew he’d need to be long gone before my parents got home — and far enough away that my dad wouldn’t recognize his own clothes on some random teenager in the neighborhood.
Between my window checks, I filled one of my old backpacks with supplies — food that didn’t need a fridge, two of my dad’s T-shirts, a pair of jeans that were probably two sizes too big for him, and a fresh pair of socks.
I was zipping the bag shut when I heard him coming down the hallway.
I was right.
Even with his hair wet, I could tell it was lighter now — and it made his eyes look even bluer.
He must’ve shaved, too, because he looked younger. Softer.
I swallowed hard and looked back down at the backpack, afraid he’d somehow see my thoughts written all over my face.
I glanced once more out the window, then handed him the bag.
“You might want to go out the back door so no one sees you.”
He took the backpack and looked at me for a long moment.
“What’s your name?” he asked, slinging it over his shoulder.
“Iris,” I said.
He smiled — a real smile, small but bright — and it was the first time I’d ever seen it.
And in that moment, I had the shallowest, most awful thought:
How could someone with a smile like that have parents who didn’t want him?
I hated myself instantly for thinking it.
Parents should love their kids no matter what — no matter how they look, how they act, or who they become.
But sometimes, your thoughts betray you before you can stop them.
He held out his hand. “I’m Julian,” he said.
“I know,” I whispered, without shaking his hand.
Not because I was afraid to touch him — I just didn’t know how to touch something that fragile.