chapter thirty-eight:

Caelum was terrified. He immediately began to regret bringing his father back. He could feel the man glaring at him as they walked. Caelum tried to show no emotion, but he couldn't help the restless tapping of his fingers, or his incessant shaking hands.

There wasn't much he could do. When his brothers got out, they would all go back to the apartment. He couldn't leave them alone ― although a small part of him certainly wanted to. There was no reasoning with his father. There was no stopping him.

So he kept walking. He walked right out of the hospital, feeling all the eyes of the staff on him. He walked to the train station, and walked to his seat beside his father's. He walked out, when it was his stop. His father halted him before they went to the apartment.

“I have things to do," he explained. “I'll be back later tonight. You'd better be here." Caelum had no reply.

He went to the apartment, using the key he had found in his things at Sarah and Dorri's. He opened the door and went to their room. Unsurprisingly, Peter had not come back yet. Caelum wished he was there ― he was so scared.

He knew he had options. He could leave, go to Peter's apartment. If May was there, she wouldn't mind letting him sit down and talk for awhile. But, he knew she would call the police if she thought his father was a threat and his father could not go to jail again.

He could go to Sarah and Dorri's place. They wouldn't ask questions and he could get some work time in. However, his father wanted him here and although he didn't really care much for that, if he caught him on the streets, he'd be in worse trouble. That, and Caelum didn't know if he knew he was staying with them. If he did, he didn't want to drag Sarah and Dorri into this. It wasn't their business and again, they would call the police.

Staying just seemed like the best option. While his father might be inconsolable on talking, he still had to try. And, if things got tough, his room had a lock on it and was near the fire escape. He'd be fine, for the most part.

Caelum spent hours sitting around until the sun finally fell and he heard the buzzer ring. He didn't have to think about who was there. He pressed the unlock button and gave his father access. A few minutes later, the door opened and he was there.

Caelum sat at the kitchen table, closest to the hall where his bedroom was. Beside him, the ghost and her blue bear watched in anticipation, the only witnesses to the event.

His father looked angry and. . . Caelum frowned, realizing what was wrong. He was drunk ― not all the way, but Caelum could tell he was a bit tipsy, but not enough to be incognizant. “Come here."

“I think it would be safer if we sat and talked,” Caelum said, still ready to leap out of his seat.

“Don't talk your smartass shit to me!" He growled. He stomped over and Caelum immediately jumped out of his chair, knowing exactly where this was going.

He ran to his room and shut the door, locking it behind him. He breathed for a minute, moving to sit down on his bed. His father would eventually tire himself out, probably go pass out on the couch. When he was sober and more reasonable, they could discuss plans for the future.

All of a sudden, the entire wall shuddered and Caelum heard a loud crack. He moved back as his father pushed the door, opening it completely. He kicked down the door.

Caelum could've shit himself in that instant.

“Get up!" His father snapped, but Caelum didn't move because he was too busy staring at his fallen door.

His father growled, stomping over and yanking his arm. Caelum let out a cry of alarm and his father immediately hit him across the head. “Shut the fuck up! You don't get to fucking talk!"

He slammed his body into the side of his door, his back scraping against the edge. He hissed, but quickly closed his mouth, swallowing a cry. His father bent over him, slamming his fist into his face before he could move his hands to stop him. Caelum saw stars, his eye exploding in pain.

He tried to curl away, his shoulders shaking, but his father held him steady and kept hitting him over and over again. Blood filled his mouth and his nose crunched painfully against his fist. Caelum couldn't see at all, he laid limp, his face throbbing with an unimaginable pain.

His father, still not quite done yet, grabbed his leg, and dragged him over. His arm sliced open painfully against the split wood, and he inhaled slightly, then coughed out blood. “I'm gonna kill you," his father growled darkly. “I'm gonna fucking kill you. I won't have motherfucking fags in my house.”

He brought him in the kitchen and practically dropped him on the floor. Caelum tried to get to his feet, maybe he could― maybe he could go and run and get away from him and. . .

“You're going to pay," he hissed, turning the stove eye it ticked for a few beats before erupting with a flame.

Caelum immediately tried to get up and run. His limbs felt flimsy and his arm was bleeding so bad. He used the Ghost's chair as leverage, as if she would be able to grab his hand and give him strength. He got to his feet and limped to the door.

His father, much more able-bodied, was faster. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back. He fell, his head hitting the ground, but his father wasn't done. He grabbed his shoulder raising him to the stove with the lit eye.

Caelum began to scream, “No!! No! Please!Dad! No!! No!!" His father ignored his cries and pushed his face into the flames.

Caelum wailed. He has never felt this kind of pain in his life. Everything burned, his face was on fire. Caelum closed his eyes, but his eye wasn't protected from the flame. He tried to struggle, tried to get away, but his legs felt like jelly, and he couldn't fight against his father's tight grip. His tears sizzled in the flames, as if taunting him, and his skin charred and blistered.

His father pushed him down harder, and the burning metal seared into his face. He opened his mouth, letting out a ear-shattering scream, his body moving frantically. He pushed his hands down, trying to pry his burning skin off. His father kicked him in the legs, making him lose balance. He fell, face going farther into the burning flames.

His father raised him up, and Caelum slumped, barely able to breathe, his entire body shaking, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. The cool air lapped at his skin, giving him a slight reprieve from his torture. His father pushed his head upwards, inspecting his face, before gripping him again and pushing him back in.

Caelum cried out again, he didn't want to do it again. It hurt so bad, he wanted it's to stop. "No! No! Nn—!" He blubbered before he went back to screaming, the flames returning.

He heard footsteps, and someone calling his name. His father dropped him. He hit his head on the metal stove, falling to the ground and holding his still burning face. Caelum sobbing and his hands shaking over his mutilated cheek. He couldn't breathe, it hurt so bad.

He vaguely saw his father standing over him, a kitchen knife in his hand, sneering down at him. "That's your faggot boyfriend innit?" He growled. Caelum let out another loud sob, he was going to die. He didn't want to die. He was going to die and it was going to hurt ― he hurt so bad it hurt so bad he couldn't breathe―

The door opened, Caelum saw a person in the doorway, staring at the scene before them. His father growled, “Get out of here!"

"Cael?” It was Peter. Peter couldn't be here. His father was going to kill him.

“Ge. . . Get. . . Get out. . .” Caelum wheezed, trying to stand but it hurt so bad, he didn't to move. Peter stepped over anyway, and his father stormed to him, ready to hurt Peter, ready to kill him too.

Peter stood his ground, moving closer to Caelum, but too far to actually help. His father swiped the knife at Peter expertly dodged it. Caelum's heart pounded and his face burned. He struggled to his feet, his hands shaking and blood dripping from his burned face.

Peter got a glimpse of him and immediately froze, his eyes widened. His father was able to cut him, just along the collarbone. Peter cried out, and stumbled back. Justice reached over, yanking him by his arm and twisting it behind him, holding the knife to his throat.

This jolted him to action. He crawled to his knees, his body trembling. He swallowed the thick knot in his throat. “N–No! Please! Don't–Don't hurt him!" Caelum cried and his father sneered.

"This your little faggot boyfriend too? I'd be doing the world a favour!” He pressed the knife closer. Caelum quickly blinks away the pain, he had to save Peter. He couldn't let Peter die.

He looked at his father, and suddenly he was in his body. He immediately let go and stumbled back, dropping the knife in his sweaty, before nervous, hands.

He felt something, it was dark and sinister. He shivered as he started into space. He needed to kill tbe boy. He kiled his wife! He was a faggot, he was disgusting, horrible he was the reason everything had gone to complete shit!!

He stumbled into the table, letting out a moan. What was going on? He wasn't doing this, he wasn't his thoughts! He was going to die! He had to kill the boy! They both, the faggot and the cracker had to—

"Cael? Cael, stay with me!" P

eter was fast, grabbing Caelum's body despite his bleeding arm, getting him out and away.  “Oh God, your face," Peter said softly, trying not to stare but it was too prominent for him not to. He looked like literal burnt toast, his eyes were half lidded.

Caelum was so exhausted, his body ― his father's body ― was shaking. Caelum braced himself against the far wall. Peter noticed, “Just hold on Cael, let me get to the door. Hold on.”

Caelum tried his best, but everything was beginning to sway and twist. He lost balance and stumbled into the table.

Kill them both! Make them bleed for what they did to Apolline! Make them bleed for what they did to him! He made him this way, he should never have taken him to the exibhit hall!

He felt sick and vomited all over the ground, his arms shaking. This was nearly as bad as the dog.

“Now!" Caelum moved, looking at Peter who was in the doorway, and blinked.

Peter kicked the door closed as Caelum began to feel all the aches and pains in his body again. He wailed and gripped Peter tighter. “May!!" Peter screamed, trying to hurry down the steps and also not fall and break both of their necks. “May! Call the police!!"

Everything was hot and the lights were so bright and his face felt like it was still on fire and he couldn't feel a damn thing it hurt so bad―

“Oh, God!" May cried ― they were downstairs? ― and helped carry Caelum in.

He heard footsteps and turned his head to see his father, glaring devilishly at him. “Put him down!" He screamed. "Bring him back! You motherfucking faggot! Come here, Algol! Now!!" The knife was back, he was going to kill all of them.

He blinked, and it all happened so fast. Caelum slipped from their arms, dropping like a rock, his eyes rolled into his head, as he wheezed. There was a crash and his father was gurgling behind him, he didn't get to see what happened, but he felt a sharp pain in his throat.

“Hurry up! Get him inside!" May was shouting and Caelum groaned, his couldn't feel anything in his bloody arm, his face burned in pain, and he couldn't breathe.

“Is he going to be okay?" Peter asked, helping him to the couch. "Is he―?"

“Peter, call 911!" May's voice felt father away, and Peter let go of his hand. He suddenly gasped, shaking. Tears filled his eyes and he could hear them steaming in the flames. He felt his father pressing his face into the stove.

He blubbered, trying to speak. No, no, he didn't want to die alone. Come back, Peter! Please, he was scared and his dad, was going to kill him. He was scared, he was so cold and he couldn't breathe. Peter was the only one who liked him, who loved him, and he was so warm and Caelum was freezing cold and he didn't want to die.

He felt someone take his hand before he heard nothing.

° · ° · ° · °

Caelum woke up slowly, he swallowed hard, looking around, confused. He immediately realized he was in at the hospital. He couldn't see out of his right eye and he brought his hand up to touch it. His face was bandaged and his arm was wrapped up too.

His head was pounding and he looked around. Someone was holding his bandaged arm. He was slow, but he saw Peter leaning over beside him, his head turned away from him. A blanket was draped over his shoulders.

Caelum smiled gently, moving his free hand to touch his messy hair, but his torso did not agree, stinging in pain. He grimaced, hissing, “Ow."

"M’sorry,” Peter murmured, turning his head, his eyes fluttering open, glimpsing at his face for a moment before falling back asleep.

Peter shot out of the chair a minute later, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Cael!" He cried and then leaned over, wrapped his arms tight around his neck. Caelum winced, but moved his good arm to hug him back.

Then, Peter released him and kissed him. Caelum was surprised, but laughed. Tears hit his cheeks, but they weren't his. Peter was crying.

He pulled away, looking at the boy. Caelum could tell he was trying his best to not start bawling on the spot. “Are you okay?" He asked, confused.

“Am I okay?!” Peter practically screamed. “You nearly died! You've been asleep for a week! Your dad burned half your face off and you’re asking if I'm okay!?”

"Well, you seem to be more emotionally compromised than me,” Caelum pointed out.

Peter glared at him, “I thought you were going to die!" He snapped. “Your dad chased us with a kitchen knife! He was going to kill you! He―!” Peter cut himself off, glaring at the bed, trying to breathe.

Caelum suddenly recalled what had happened, “My dad? Where is he? Is he. . . is he back in jail?!” There would be no way Caelum could get him out this time. He was depending on his Dad's funds. His brother's and his hospital bills would be disgustingly high. He didn't have enough money left to pay for all this.

“Caelum, your dad is dead." Caelum’s head snapped up, staring at the boy, daring him to take it back. “He. . . cut his throat open.”

"What?” Caelum stared, that didn't sound like something he would do. He tried to review the fight in his head, trying to figure out why this happened, what could have caused it. His father would never kill himself, especially with people in the room and within eyesight. His father would never do that unless someone was holding a gun to his head and him.

. . . Oh.

Caelum was going to be sick. He killed his father. He cut his throat out. His father was dead. He ruined everything.

“It's okay, it's okay," Peter insisted, taking his hand, squeezing it gently. “It was self-defense. He was going to kill you. It's not your fault."

"I ruined everything,” Caelum said softly. “I killed him. My brothers. . . we won't be able to. . . we can't. . .” He could get the words out. He couldn't speak properly. His brothers would be forced into foster care now. Both his parents were dead. He killed his father. This was all his fault. He ruined his family.

“Cael, talk to me, please," Peter said softly, and Caelum swallowed the knot in his throat.

“I. . . We needed the money from him. My brothers. . . They'll be forced into the system now ― I'll be forced into the system now.”

"No, you won't,” Peter insisted. "I heard Sarah and Dorri talking earlier. They said that they wanted to adopt you, and your brothers.”

"They couldn't," Caelum said, surprised. “They don't have the room, that's not fair to them, it would hurt them so bad.”

"I know,” Peter said and then smiled a little. "That's why May said she'll adopt you, if you wanted." Caelum stared at him, confused and shocked.

"What?"

“May said she wouldn't be able to take all three of you guys, our apartment is small, but Sarah and Dorri were willing to, so―”

“No!" Caelum interrupted, staring at Peter. "I can't let you guys do that! I–I’m. . . this is my responsibility. This is my fault! I couldn't. . . It's not fair to them and, shit, all the medical bills. . .!”

Peter watched him for a minute, both confused and annoyed. “Cael, we want to help you. You need help, and we're here for you."

“No, you can't. This is my fault, I caused all of this, I―” Caelum rubbed his eye, sniffing. “He was right. I. . . this is my fault. I did this and now. . . my mom is dead and–and my dad. I killed. . .!” His shoulders shook, and he bit his lip, he didn't want to cry in front of Peter. He didn't want Peter see him like this, battered and broken, but he didn't want to tell him go away either.

“You didn't do this. This isn't your fault, Cael.”

"They're both dead because of me! My mom is dead because of me!”

"Caelum," Peter's voice was serious. Caelum looked up from his good eye. “Did you shoot your mother?"

“What?"

“Did you shoot your mother?" He repeated.

"I. . . no―”

"Did you kidnap your brothers?”

"He took them because of―” Peter gave him a glare and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “No. . . "

"Then it wasn't your fault! You can't go back in time, you can't redo what already done. Yeah, what happened sucks ass, but it happened. You have to live with it ― we have to live with it. So, stop worrying about that. You nearly died, but you're okay now. It's all going to be okay now.”

Caelum nodded and Peter gave him his sunny smile, which made Caelum smile too. “Now! Your birthday passed and you didn't tell me, so. . .!” Peter scooted off his bed and ran to a chair covered in balloons, flowers and boxes. Peter pulled one out and held it to him. “Here."

“You. . . You didn't have to―"

“Cael, just open the present." He laughed, grabbing the box and undoing the ribbon and lifting the lid.

He frowned, staring down inside the box. “I asked the staff if it was okay if we used the DVD player and they were totally cool with it!”

"Where did you find a box set of Jaws?” Caelum laughed, pulling out the present. Caelum was suddenly keenly aware of the shark necklace on his neck. He never took it off, which caused the cheap silver to go a brown rusted colour.

“I also have something else for you," Peter turned around, grabbing a small box and handing it to him.

Caelum rose an eyebrow, “The DVD set looked expensive, Peter. . .”

"It's okay, this one was actually free.” Caelum unwrapped the present ― rather clumsily with his non-dominant hand. He gasped when he glimpsed what it was.

“Is this―Is this a Stark phone!?” He quickly unwrapped the rest, staring in awe and shock  at it. Then, he remembered Peter’s comment on it being free. “Peter, please don't tell me you stole this."

“I didn't!” Peter exclaimed, pouting and crossing his arms.

"Then, how in the world did you―oh. . .!" Caelum completely forgot that Tony freaking Stark was in Peter's bedroom.

“Yep," Peter grinned cheekily.

“Is this from him?"

“Yep."

“I–I can't accept this," he couldn't even look at the phone, it looked so expensive. “I. . . I don't have a data plan. Peter, I don't even have a phone ― you know that.” He never found the need for one, since his parents didn't know he was working, and he usually stayed at places with landlines and people who could afford data plans.

“Don't worry about that, Mr. Stark said he would cover it all, along with you and your brothers' hospital bills.”

Caelum gaped, staring wide-eyed at him. “I. . . I can't. . . he couldn't. . .”

Peter shrugged, “He said he really liked you. Well, his secretary said he said he really liked you ― if you can call Mr. Happy a secretary. I've only seen him drive places. Anyways, he said not to worry about it. It's all paid for.”

Caelum stared at the phone in his hands, unable to speak. “Cael? Is everything alright? Please don't say you can't accept this because I really don't want to see you killing yourself trying to cover all these bills.”

Caelum scoffed, rubbing the tears out of his eyes. “You wouldn't let me, anyway."

“Exactly," Peter grinned his smile of sunshine, and held out his hand. "Now, let me see those movies ― you're on extended stay here so we're binging Jaws.”