Author's POV
Days passed, and Santo and Allan created their own routine. Whenever he could, Santo went back home to have lunch with the boy, but dinner was sacred; Santo made a point of being present and having the meal with the younger one.
After dinner, they always watched a movie. There was always one that Santo said Allan really needed to see. They were police movies, which was a big joke since Santo was now one of the most wanted drug dealers in Rio de Janeiro. But still, the big guy always rooted for the cops in the movies, go figure.
Allan always fell asleep on the couch before the movie was over and ended up waking up in his bed. He almost always woke up when he was being carried, but he wouldn't dare open his eyes. He wanted to enjoy, even if just for a little while, the feeling of having his body pressed against Santo's. It was his favorite part of the day, feeling those strong arms holding his body.
Santo knew when the younger one woke up, he would smile to himself and pretend not to notice. He preferred not to deal with those feelings; he would postpone it as long as possible.
A few more days passed, and as not everything is rosy, the first fight of the almost-future couple arrived.
Santo tried to call Allan for the tenth time to let him know that he wouldn't be able to go home for lunch, but the boy wouldn't answer. He had already noticed that the younger one didn't care much for the device, he always left it lying around and never had it in his hand. Santo couldn't help but be upset about it. It was the first time a gift he gave was rejected; Santo didn't know how to deal with it.
He gave up trying to talk to Allan on his phone, so he decided to call Maria, as he always did when the boy didn't answer.
Maria answered on the third ring.
"Where is he?"
"He's in the living room watching TV."
"Pass it to him now!"
Santo had already noticed that Allan was spending more time watching TV. He wasn't liking that at all.
"Hey, big guy!"
Allan always called Santo that. The first time he said it out loud he was afraid Santo would get mad at him, but the older one even found it funny, the nickname that suited his 6'4" height well.
But Santo already knew the tricks of the younger one, who always played cute to get out of trouble, but today it wouldn't work; Santo was pissed off.
"Don't even try that, kid! Who do you think I am to be ignored by you? I've told you a thousand times to answer me when I call!"
Santo yelled from the other side.
"The battery died."
"Bullshit, at this time of day there's no power in this house for you to charge that damn thing? Next time I call and you don't answer, you'll regret the day you were born, you hear me, you wretch!"
Santo hung up, fuming.
Jotape, who was sitting next to his friend, couldn't help but hear the "conversation."
"You went too hard on the little guy, dude. Even I, who have nothing to do with it, am already shaking in my boots, imagine the shorty, he must be scared shitless. You messed up, bro."
Santo threw the phone against the wall. Great, now the other one wouldn't obey a simple order like that and it was his fault? No sir, that sneaky little shorty wasn't going to get away with this and make him feel guilty, no way, he was right, he was the one who was right.
As the hours went by, Santo's anger gave way to guilt. He didn't want to have yelled, much less frightened Allan, he didn't want the curly-haired boy to be afraid of him, he never did. After enduring Jotape's disapproving looks, he admitted to himself that he was wrong. But that didn't mean he was going to admit it to anyone else.
Jotape was already fed up with listening to Santo huffing and puffing. Not to mention that the dumbass was still lashing out at everyone, yelling and cursing at anyone who passed in front of him.
"Just go home and apologize to the shorty already."
"Like hell I will, I didn't do anything."
"Go now, damn it! Before you screw up and ruin everything we've built here because of your bad mood."
Santo's POV
Okay, that convinced me.
I left the place thinking about what I should do.
What if I got to Allan's house and he didn't want to talk to me?
I passed by a convenience store and saw some books on the shelf. I remembered seeing some little books in a shoebox that Allan keeps. Once I saw him smiling while looking at the books, that's what I need, to make him smile. I think he'll like them, besides, it's good for him to read a little so he gets away from the TV and does something worthwhile before I break that shit into a thousand pieces.
I stopped to buy the book, I couldn't decide which one to take so I took the whole damn lot, I have no patience for this shit.
I went home with the bag of books in my hand, entered through the kitchen, and by the look on Dona Maria's face, I could tell things were not looking good for me.
Allan was sitting on the couch watching that damn TV. I called him into the kitchen and he came, looking at me with eyes full of something I didn't know if it was fear or shame. I was confused.
I grabbed the bag and took out what was inside, handing him the books.
Head down, he took the books and looked at me with tear-filled eyes.
The boy placed the books on the table and said in a weak voice:
"You shouldn't have wasted your money buying these for me..."
Santo didn't let the boy finish speaking, pissed off.
"What the hell, kid, can't you see I'm trying to help you! Are you stupid or what? I gave you a phone that you could use to study, get informed, or do something worthwhile, but no, you just want to live all day in front of that TV. I brought the book to see if I could get something into that hollow head of yours!
But you just want to live like this, victimizing yourself, playing the poor thing, and using that as an excuse to do nothing with your life. Fine by me, but in my house, you're not going to play the lady, no! Since you don't want anything from life, go to work, enough feeling sorry for yourself, the charity is over."
Allan's POV
Allan stood still, his gaze one of disappointment and pain.
So that's it, he was just a charity case? A good deed, nothing they'd lived through in the last few days mattered, it was just the product of pity?
To Santo he was just a person he was helping, someone to be pitied, it hurt like a knife cutting through his heart.
He couldn't think of anything other than how pathetic he was to think that this man could one day like him, even as a friend. He felt like the most idiotic person in the world, and the most useless too.
He just nodded his head in resigned agreement and walked out, hearing Santo's yelling telling him not to turn his back on him.
Santo's POV
That son of a bitch! He's even crying his eyes out! I should be the one who's mad and he's the one who looks offended! I bought the stuff for him and he doesn't even care, he thinks I'm an idiot, that's the only explanation.
Maria, who had heard the entire argument, couldn't take it anymore and said tearfully:
"Oh, Mr. Santo, I didn't tell you that the boy only lived here in this house and never went out. He never went to school, he never learned to read and write. I told him to tell you when you gave him the phone, but the poor thing is too ashamed of not knowing how to read and write at his age. There was no need to say those things, sir."
Author's POV
If Santo was already feeling bad before, now it was even worse. The thought that he had hurt Allan pained his chest. The thought that the boy was sad and had cried because of the things he had said only made him feel like the worst person in the world. He didn't forgive himself for having done exactly what he swore he would never let happen to Allan again.
What the hell had he done? Damn it!
His heart ached to think of everything that had been denied to Allan, and he regretted what he had said in the heat of the moment. He just wanted to punch someone's face in until he got tired.
He left the house so as not to do anything stupid. He needed to calm down; he needed someone to tell him what to do.
Jotape.
He headed towards his friend's house, hoping he could help undo the mess he'd made.
He just couldn't believe the scene he saw when he arrived at the moreno's house.
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