All the usual disclaimers apply. This is a work of fiction and any similarities to real people or circumstances are a coincidence. This series will eventually contain sexual acts between minors, which you shouldn't read if such material is offensive to you or illegal in your jurisdiction.

I am grateful for the feedback I have already received from readers, and I want to assure anyone who continues to follow this story that it will very much evolve on its own. I'm realizing as I write that it will never be a series with erotica forced onto it or shoehorned into it, and I hope that there are enough of you out there willing to follow in this journey as I see it through. I also hope those of you reading this find something in it that resonates with you, and know that I appreciate your time and your readership.

Please send your thoughts to broadstead-academy@mail.com.

Thanks for reading.

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2. The Weight

Climbing down the fire escape ladder next to my window seemed, in theory, like it would be pretty easy. And, honestly, it should have been. Except for the fact that I'm a complete dumbass. For reasons that seemed really important before I left, I refused to leave my very large, very awkward suitcase behind. I was aggressively regretting this choice within about five minutes when I was clinging precariously to the ladder, one foot stuck in a very uncomfortable position on the windowsill, and the suitcase dangling from the weakening fingers of my left hand. Too heavy to lift back through the window, too high up to drop it for fear of waking someone up.

It was around midnight. The moon was covered in clouds. My roommate was asleep inside, as was pretty much everyone else in the dormitory rooms. My head was pounding because I'd had about as much luck sleeping through the evening as I'd had standing up straight that morning. I was three storeys up the side of a flat concrete building over solid, dry earth covered in only a light coating of neatly trimmed grass. It was one of those situations where if I didn't die the traditional way - that is, from falling off the ladder - then I would definitely die of embarrassment when someone inevitably saw me.

God dammit.

My leg was cramping up. I'd spent the last minute or so trying to free it from the windowsill, and the window frame was digging painfully into the back of my ankle. It was all I could do not to be repeatedly cursing out loud, and between the panic, pain and fatigue, I was already fighting the tears back again.

Finally, mercifully, my leg came free, and I wobbled terrifyingly for a second before my newly-released foot found a rung of the ladder. I just stayed there for a minute, panting, trying to keep a hold of the suitcase long enough to catch my breath. It was enough time for my brain to start asking me uncomfortable questions.

Are you really doing this? Yes.

What if they catch you? Don't know.

Where are you going to go? I'll figure it out.

What would Deanna say?

I found myself chewing my lip. I glanced for a moment back through the window, at my empty bed. I couldn't see Yuri from here, but when I'd stealthily risen from my bed and slipped into my clothes, he'd been peacefully laying on his side, facing away, lightly snoring.

Never mind what Deanna would say. I wasn't going to stick around and screw up Yuri's life. Or anyone's.

I silently thanked my lucky stars that Dad wasn't drinking again tonight (at least, not yet) and started to carefully climb down the ladder. It was a lot harder than it looked. Moving my feet down the rungs was easy enough, but I had to press my body against the ladder before I moved my hand, because I only had the one hand to hold on with, and the weight of the suitcase was throwing off my balance. That, plus it was a chilly night and I hadn't dressed warmly enough because, again, I'm a dumbass.

I'd made my ungainly way down two out of three stories before I finally lost my grip on the suitcase. I drew my breath in a hiss, cringing and holding completely still as all eight billion pounds of it met the ground with an uncomfortable THUD. It rolled over onto its side and flopped onto its front. Mercifully, it didn't somehow bust open. It just rested there, barely visible against the grass from where I hung, totally frozen, waiting for a light to turn on or someone to walk around the corner with a flashlight.

After about three years passed I started to believe I'd gotten away with it. No lights, no voices, just me and the ladder and my disobedient suitcase. I let out my breath, realizing just how long I'd been holding onto it, and continued down the ladder, much more quickly now. I felt my feet hit the ground, and immediately I got the shakes and had to sit down. I couldn't decide whether I was trembling because it was cold, or because of the nerves, probably both.

I glanced up at my former window as I let the shuddering ease its way out of me. I didn't see any sign that Yuri had woken up, either. That was good. It was better if he didn't know I was gone until he woke up in the morning. By then I'd be able to get pretty far, maybe catch a bus back toward downtown. I looked at my suitcase and grimaced. I didn't know why it had been so important to bring the stupid thing, and now I was going to have to lug it all across the province until I found somewhere to crash. Great thinking, See.

I got to my feet, brushed some stray grass off my jeans, and extended the suitcase's handle to haul it upright. I adjusted the finicky left strap of my backpack, took one last look up at the room where Yuri was sleeping, and then set off across the grounds, keeping a wary eye open for patrolling security guards or the like. It was dark enough that I wasn't worried about being seen from a distance, but still, you never know.

Deanna hadn't been kidding that morning. The grounds were massive. The school itself sat on a very shallow... hill? I wasn't even sure you could call it that. It was more of a rise, the way the grass of the field rolled upward at that particular spot, and then sloped gently down the other side. I was on the side with the slope, and I couldn't see the parking lot, but what I could see was a long border of trees and shrubs that seemed to mark the edges of the property. I couldn't see any roads, so it was the only boundary I could pick out. The road we'd driven up this morning must have been the one road into the compound, I thought. I'd make my way around to it after I'd gotten to the other side of the trees. I didn't want to be out in the open for too long.

It wasn't such a long walk across the field, but it sure felt like it with the weight of the suitcase dragging behind me. Partway across I realized I was passing bleachers, outdoor stands set against what must have been a soccer field, I thought. My guess was confirmed when I walked past one of the goals a moment later. I wondered what else was out here, if only there were enough light by which to see it.

Within about ten minutes I'd gotten to the edge of the trees and shrubbery. It wasn't super thick - it was the kind you could walk through easily enough without having to push brush and branches out of your way - but even so, it was pretty secluded. The natural border was maybe ten or twelve metres wide, and I could see a worn trail leading from left to right through the centre. I wondered if the trail circled all the way around the campus. It'd take forever to walk it, but then, I guessed that was the point for people who were into that sort of thing. But more importantly, it meant I had a built-in way to get back to the road.

I leaned against one of the thicker trees and realized, as I stood there catching my breath, that I'd speed-walked the whole way across the field. The workout cost me a little, but at least the going would be a bit easier on the dirt trail as opposed to the thick grass. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and headed for the path.

"Li'l past your bedtime, ain't it?"

I just about jumped out of my skin, tripping backwards over that god damned suitcase and sprawling awkwardly on the grassy field behind me. I pushed myself up onto my elbows to peer over in the general direction of the voice I'd heard.

I couldn't see much at the moment, except for the sudden blossom of bright orange from the end of the stranger's cigarette. Didn't sound like an adult, though, so I wasn't afraid so much as annoyed as I got back to my feet and dusted off my rear end. "Who says I have a bedtime? And what's it to you?"

"Nothin'." I heard the exhalation of breath and, moments later, got a nose full of pungent cigarette smoke. I turned my head, waving it away, trying to ignore the part of my brain that felt an instinctive, almost animalistic craving.

Whoever it was chortled. "Aw, whassa matter? Mama tell you not to smoke? Pussy." He took another drag.

As I turned back to him, my eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness in the trees that I could actually see who I was talking to. He was probably a little older than me, black, with a practically shaved head, lean cheeks, big lips and small eyes. He wore a loose-fitting tank top and shorts that could have passed a belt if they were any higher up his thighs. Looked tall-ish from where I was standing, but then, he wasn't standing. He was perched on an old picnic table that had obviously seen better days; one of the benches was broken clean in half, and the wood was worn, stained, and marked. The cigarette he held loosely between the fingers of his right hand waggled playfully as he eyed me, waiting for me to rise to the bait.

I shrugged as I bent to heft my suitcase back onto its feet. "I don't mind the smoke, I just don't want your nasty-ass breath in my face."

"Who you callin' nasty, Punjab?" I heard him take another drag. "Least I know how to dress. Better learn to swim before you drown in those jeans."

"Yeah, well, some of us don't feel like going around in public with our junk hanging out."

"Least my junk's big enough to hang, baby dick," he replied with a wink.

I snorted, and my voice went to a dry monotone. "Oh, no. Some guy thinks my dick is small. Oh, the horror. The humanity. May I live a thousand lifetimes and never again experience such pain." I grabbed my suitcase's handle and it lurched with me toward the path.

"Hey, where you goin'?" he asked.

"Away from you," I shot back without looking.

He laughed. "Aw, come on now. I was just playin'. Here, see."

I turned instinctively before I realized he wasn't actually saying my name. He'd produced a pack of smokes and was pulling one out, his lips wrapped around the one he'd already been working on. "Take one. On me."

I shook my head. "I don't smoke."

"You ain't foolin' me. Saw that look when you got a whiff off mine." He twiddled the new, unlit cigarette along the fingers of his left hand as he watched me.

I stared at it and tried to shove away the longing I felt. "Yeah, well. Like I said. I don't smoke."

After a moment his head bobbed in gradual comprehension. "Oh. I feel you. You got it in your bond, don't you?"

Sigh. "Yep. Good guess."

"Ain't no guess. That's how I got started." He put the cigarette back in the carton, shoved it into his back pocket, and settled his elbows back onto his knees. Of the two of us, he was the first to notice I was still just standing there, and he cocked his head. "You know... you can come sit down, bro. Or go where you goin', I don't care, but you creepin' me out playin' statue like that."

I shook my head as my senses wandered back into it, and hesitated only for another second before I crossed the couple of paces to the table. I clambered up, sitting a couple feet down from him on the table, and leaned back on my hands. Moments of silence ticked by. It was awkward as hell, or at least for me it was. Him, who knew. I watched him take another drag from his steadily-dwindling cigarette, tapping the ashes off to the side, down to the earth.

"So," I said. "Punjab?"

He shrugged. "Sorry," he said, not even pretending to be sincere.

"I don't care," I said, "it's just the weirdest thing anyone's called me, like, ever."

"Annie."

"What?"

"The movie. Mama's favourite. Sat my ass down in front of it all the time."

I frowned. "Like, the new one, or...?"

"Nah, bro. The old one with the bald white dude."

"Never saw it."

"Man, it's classic. Little orphan girl gets adopted by this, like, fuckin' Donald Trump billionaire guy, gets to live in his mansion and shit. Got songs, too."

"Right... and what does that have to do with...?"

"Oh, that. Servant at the mansion was some Indian named Punjab. Shit, man." He laughed. "That's why I love old movies. Ain't nobody gettin' away with that nowadays."

"Uh-huh."

We lapsed into another silence. My companion finished off his smoke and pitched the butt somewhere into the darkness, then pulled a lighter out and flicked it a few times. The flickering light lit up his gaunt cheekbones. Didn't look to me like this kid was getting enough to eat, but it was none of my business. I could see a bruise of some kind up near his right shoulder. Couldn't tell what kind.

"So why's you runnin'?" he asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"You runnin' away."

"Uh, no I'm not," I said lamely, although even as I said it I realized it was probably the dumbest answer I could have gone for. The suitcase was right there, for Chrissake. I rested my forehead on my palms.

He smirked, but thankfully didn't say anything else. Just waited, flicked his lighter a couple of times.

Finally I shrugged. "Just easier this way."

"Yeah?" He nodded toward the path. "Long way up front from here. And ain't nothin' around for miles, no civilization, shit, not even any gas stations. Don't seem too easy."

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean for me."

"Mm-hmm." I felt the table creak a little under me as he shifted his weight, and when I glanced up he was leaning back on his palms, the lighter perched next to him. He was staring in the direction of the school, but I had the sense he wasn't really looking at the building. It was that staring-off-into-space kind of look.

I shivered and pulled out my phone to check the time. Eek. "I, uh. I have to..." I hopped down from the table toward my suitcase.

"You ain't gonna make it, you know."

My hand paused an inch above the handle, then slumped to my side as I turned to glare at him. "Why not?"

"Man, use your brain, Punjab." He grinned and waved a hand vaguely toward the front of the property. "They lock that shit down tight. Druggies and alkies and, and fuckin'... psychos all up in here, pullin' stunts every night. You don't think they gonna be ready for your skinny ass?"

I felt my face burn as I turned back around, staring resentfully down at my luggage. He was right, and for every moment I spent thinking about how right he was, I felt alternating pangs of anger, panic, depression, and fear as I realized I couldn't leave all the bullshit behind. I was stuck with it. It wouldn't let me go.

With a loud, angry grunt I reared back and kicked my suitcase. It wobbled and flopped over. I was dimly aware of how rapidly I was breathing, and that my palms hurt from my clenched fists driving my nails into them.

"Hulk smash," the boy observed dryly.

I abruptly felt the anger wash out of me, replaced with embarrassment. With the adrenaline gone and my plan out the window, my exhaustion had the chance to catch up. I dropped my backpack next to my suitcase, slumped morosely back to the table, and flopped on the unbroken bench, next to his flip-flopped feet. Neither of us said anything for a while, and I tried to distract myself a little, listening to the sounds of the night. Crickets and wind and stuff. It didn't really work, though. It all just kept coming back.

"What am I gonna do?" I asked aloud.

"What you gonna do? You gonna get back to your bed, bro!"

"I was talking to myself," I retorted.

"Boy, your dumbass self ain't got no good advice."

"Fuck you."

He snorted. "Y'all can't afford me."

I glanced sidelong at him, and he cocked an eyebrow. "You heard me, Punjab."

I shook my head. "Nevermind. And stop calling me that."

"Well, you ain't exactly givin' me alternatives! You got a real name in there?"

Sigh. "It's See."

He made a face. "See? I asked for a real name."

"Tough."

He laughed again, pulling out his carton of smokes. "I like you. Don't take no shit. A'ight, See, two can play that game." He paused to light a fresh cigarette, and breathed out a plume of smoke. "Call me Thor."

I blinked a few times. "Thor?"

"Thor."

"Like..." I held in a laugh. "Like, Avengers Thor?"

He grinned. "Badass god of thunder with a big fuck-you hammer? Hell yeah."

"Well, I mean, I figured if you were going with the whole Avengers thing, you'd at least go with, like, Panther or something."

"Why? 'Cause I'm black?" He kissed his teeth. "Man, fuck that. Dude runs around dressed up like a cat. Do I look like a pussy to you?"

"You want an honest answer?"

"Kiss my ass."

I raised a brow. "I thought I couldn't afford you."

He paused, then held up his cigarette in a mock salute. "Touché."

Despite myself, I let out a small chuckle. "So. Thor. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

He took a long drag before he answered. "Makin' a living."

"Ha, ha."

"Yeah, keep laughin'. You lucky I ain't got no customers comin' yet. Don't need y'all drivin' away my business."

My grin wavered a little as I looked up at him. "You're serious?"

He nodded, his eyes still watching the school.

"So... so, what? Are you, like, selling drugs or something?"

He snorted. "Fuck that. Too easy to get caught. Not my scene, bro."

"So what are you selling?"

A little smile played around on his lips. "Like you said, See. You can't afford me."

It took me another moment to get it, and then my mouth formed a silent 'Oh-h-h'.

He nodded his approval. "There you go. Got a brain in there after all."

I was suddenly very aware of how little clothing Thor was wearing, and suddenly my shoes were very interesting to look at. "So, uh, guys come and, um. They pay you to... uh..."

"Suck their cocks? Let them fuck my tight ass? Let them spray hot cum all up in my face and down my smooth, naked body?" I was blushing so hard I could feel it in my ears, and he chuckled, taking another drag. "Yeah, more or less. Girls too, sometimes."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "'Cause I'm good at it. Got it from my mama, yo."

"From your...?" I thought about it for a second. "That's your bond, isn't it?"

He finished the cigarette and stubbed it out on the table. "She worked the streets long as I can remember. I can suck a dick as good as she can, might as well profit. Plus it feels good."

I finally looked back up at him, and my eyes found the bruise on his arm. "Does it, always?"

He shifted a bit and leaned on his knees. "You better get goin'. I'm expectin' someone soon. Can't have y'all here."

Welp. If that wasn't a hint, I didn't know what was. I stood up, and quickly saw an issue. "Oh, god damn it."

"Cuss all you want, I ain't givin' you a free show."

"No, not--" Sigh. "It's my suitcase. I don't know if I can get it back in my window."

I could practically hear Thor's eyes rolling behind me. "You really is a dumb motherfucker, ain't you?"

"Shut up. It's not like I was expecting to go back in that way. Or at all."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." I turned back to see him wave an absent hand toward the back of the table. "Jus' leave it."

"Huh?"

His annoyed gaze turned to me. "Leave it here. I'm on the ground floor, I got you. Jus' come get it tomorrow or somethin'."

I looked from him to the suitcase, and back. "You'd do that?"

"Long as you piss off before a trick gets here, you feel me?"

I hesitated. I didn't like it - at all - but I didn't see what else I could do, not without dealing with some awkward questions. "... Fine. All right." I stooped to pick up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder before glancing back at Thor once more. "Um... thanks."

He waved it away. "Yeah, yeah. Now get outta here, someone's comin'."

I did as he said, heading back out of the trees and shrubbery the way I'd come in. The night was still as dark as when I'd left the dorm, and I didn't see anyone else out on the grounds, so I figured I'd be all right getting back in... as bitter as I felt about it, and I did. I felt like a massive idiot, I'd accomplished less than nothing. I was pretty much right back where I started, minus my suitcase, which I'd now have to go and--

I stopped. I hadn't asked Thor what room he was in. I'd have to risk pissing him off.

But when I turned to start walking back, peering ahead into the clearing, I hesitated. I guess a part of me hadn't really believed there was anyone else coming, but sure enough, I could only one of Thor's crouched legs and rhythmically bobbing shoulders, concealed from view as he was by the body of someone else, someone bigger and taller, maybe an older teen, I couldn't really tell. Not that it mattered; I couldn't interrupt him now.

Well, shit.

I turned again and resumed my trudging toward the dormitory, defeated. For better or worse, it looked like I'd have to stay, and God only knew what that would mean.

Clambering back up the fire escape was a lot easier than going down had been, at least. Small mercies. The moon finally slipped out from behind the clouds as I reached the window, which was still open, because again, I was a dumbass and I hadn't closed it on the way out. As carefully and silently as possible, I climbed back through and gently lowered it closed, locking the latches in place.

The room was dark but the new moonlight illuminated Yuri's still, sleeping form, on his side, facing away. He hadn't moved. I let out a silent breath of relief, and crossed to my bed, slipping my shoes off and peeling away my sweater, t-shirt, jeans and socks, tossing them carelessly to the floor near the scattered, crumpled tissues. I was so tired I just about couldn't think straight. I hiked my boxers back up and laid down, hoisting myself up by my shoulders and ankles so I could get the sheet and blanket untucked and slip inside. The sheets were soft and inviting. The feeling of my head hitting the pillow was heavenly. I could feel it all lulling me to sleep. The bed was...

I felt something clench inside my gut. The bed was made when I came in. I'd left in a hurry. I hadn't made the bed.

"You came back," breathed Yuri's soft, trembling voice.

I rolled over, casting my eyes over his half of the room and actually noticing the tissues this time, on the floor, where I'd tossed my clothes. Balled up tissues, at least four or five of them that I could see. And the bed was made. I felt the cold teeth of guilt bite down on my insides.

"Your suitcase was gone," I heard him say. He was a little muffled by his pillow, and he still faced the other wall, but the sweet, pained innocence of his voice rang loud and clear in my ears. "I-I thought you left. For good."

I swallowed, tried to find something in my own throat to answer with. "I... I was going to. I thought I was."

He let out a breath. It was shaky. I thought he might still have been crying. "If it was me... if it was my fault... I'm sorry. I d-didn't mean to make you w-want to leave."

I chewed my lip for a second. "You didn't," I told him. "It wasn't you. It was me. It was... it's always me. You didn't do anything."

He sniffed loudly. "You don't h-have to say that."

"Hey, I came back... didn't I?"

The words tasted sour as they left my mouth, loaded as they were with half-truth, but a moment later Yuri rolled over, giving me a weak smile. His eyes looked a bit blotchy, still a bit wet. But a smile was a smile. "Yeah," he agreed. "You came back. I'm glad you came back."

"Yeah... me too." I smiled back, then rolled over and settled in, wished my words could have been true, and hated myself.

I wasn't sure how long my eyes had been closed before I heard his whisper once more. "See?"

I let out a deep breath. "... Yeah?"

"I--" he started, faltered, then tried again. "I-I know it sounds weird, but... c-could... could I come lie down with you?"

I tried to blink the sleep out of my eyes a few times, because for a moment I was positive my brain had fogged up and delivered the wrong message. "Y-you want to...?"

"U-um. Just... j-just for a minute..."

I tried to process. It took me a long time, long enough that I heard another shaky sigh, and he said "n-never mind, I'm--I'm sorry..."

"Okay."

"H-huh?"

I turned my head so I could see him from the corner of my eye. He looked sad, scared, and lonely, but with that little, muted bit of hope. "I said okay. You can. If you want to."

He hesitated for a moment, then tentatively pulled his covers off, picked up his pillow, and walked his shaky, PJ-clad walk over to me. I shifted forward to make room, and I felt my own covers lift as he slid onto the mattress behind me, leaving as much of a respectful gap between us as he could. I could feel the tremble of his breath on the back of my neck, the heat of his body behind me.

"Thanks, See," he whispered after a moment.

"It's okay," I told him, and oddly, it felt true in a way I didn't really understand. His warmth next to me felt like something I'd been missing, but I couldn't explain what. And at the same time, I suddenly felt. Not like I had before, not all the guilt and fear and shame over the trouble I always seemed to cause. I felt... me. I felt the sad, the scared, the lonely. I felt strangely like something had melted away in me, reminding me of a feeling I'd so desperately wanted and, for so long, never had.

"Could you..." I felt the words catch as I tried to get them out past my own wounded pride. "Could you hold me?"

In a moment, I felt the bare skin of Yuri's chest and torso against my back, the flannel of his pyjamas nestled against my legs, and the comforting embrace of his arm as it draped over me. It wasn't rushed, or eager. It was about me, not him. I could tell. Before I could even think, I was clinging to his arm for dear life, and then there was no holding it back. The pain came roaring to the surface, the years of rejection and resentment and bitterness, the endless days and nights lost to the drink, the hopelessness and uncertainty of facing an eternally terrible, yawning, spiralling nightmare masquerading as my future. I felt like it had all been sitting there, imprisoned, held tightly under lock and key until... I felt safe.

I cried. There's no dressing it up. It was a heaving, sobbing, ugly cry. My pillow was wet, my gut was cramping, my nose was slick and my eyes were rough and blurry. I don't know how long it lasted.

I do know that when I finally, mercifully fell asleep, Yuri's arm was still there.

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