Lou

"Do you like your new nickname?", Harper asked again. "I think it's a good fit for you."

"But my name isn’t Vivi!" Confused, Lou shook his head. "I'd better go... So... Thank you..."

"Hmm..." Harper followed him as he slowly made his way back, or rather fled. "That's the point of a nickname, isn't it? It's short. For friends."

"I barely know you!" Lou murmured, wiping a tear from his face. He had never been given a nickname before. And he wanted to get away from the strange boy. Lou didn't know what he wanted from him. "And I want to go home now... You should go home too." No one (except Remy) meets with the cursed. He's not worth it.

"And? That's why we can't be friends?" Undeterred, the other boy followed him.

Lou shook his head restlessly. "I don't know..." How quickly do you make friends? Lou had no experience in this area. His only friend didn't call them a friend until a few weeks later. At least as far as Lou remembered.

"Let’s be friends?" Harper's voice sounded soft. Quiet. Lou liked his voice.

"What?" He stroked the walls of the house with his hands. That's how he orientated himself. Lou knew every crack in the walls of the slums and on its edge.

"Just say yes!"

"Yes?" Why?

"Great! Vivi! Now we're friends and you've got a nickname! Great, huh? We have to celebrate that! Oh! Be careful!"

Again, Lou felt Harper's hands. Frightened, he stopped and tried to tear himself away. "Don't!"

"Not yet, it's all good! There's a stone! I just don't want you to..."

Lou tripped over something, pain piercing through his broken knees and back, but Harper held him.  "To fall." The other boy sighed and cautiously helped Lou regain his balance.

"I don't like that. Let go, please!", murmured Lou, still frightened.

"Of course. Just let me help you get past the stone first, yes? After that, I'll let you go right away. I promise. Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you!", murmured Harper sadly.

With a quick nod of his head, Lou let himself be helped, but he didn't feel comfortable doing so. As promised, Harper let him go shortly after. Immediately, Lou missed the warmth of Haper's hands. They were unnaturally warm. As if he had a fever. But Harper seemed healthy. Warm hands... Lou's heart stumbled with excitement. The wounds on his back were burning. Just like his knees. As they walked, they protested. The wounds felt hot. Had he scraped them up again? He could still feel where Harper had touched him. His arms tingled. This made Lou dizzy.

"You're limping a bit... How are your knees?"

"How?" Lou wanted to run away. At the same time, he longed for the warmth. What was wrong with him?

"Your knees! The injury!" Harper repeated in a patient voice. "And you're swaying a bit... Do you need me to help you?"

"No." Of course. The other boy had not missed the dilemma. What was going on? "My knees are doing great."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"But why are you crying?"

"What?" Lou blinked. He hadn't noticed he was crying. "Oh."

"Let me take care of the wounds, shall I?"

"No."

Harper was humming something. Lou didn't understand the words. "Lou. Vivi! Please!", he said again.

"No." Lou didn't want this rich boy to see his wretched hut. All of a sudden, Lou was ashamed of his misery. That had never happened to him before. But his knees burned terribly. Just like his back. "You have nothing to care for the wounds."

"Oh, don't worry. The problem can be solved quickly. I'll accompany you home and then quickly get everything. I'm careful! That's a promise."

"All right", Lou heard himself say. Why did he agree? "But my home is not pretty. I'm sure you're used to better things. It's... I’m... Dirty."

"Hm." That's all Harper said. Lou didn't know what his new, self-proclaimed friend was trying to tell him. But he didn't want to ask either. The whole situation made him uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. Lou took Harper into the dirty alleys of his neighborhood, all the way to the wall. Harper's bright, radiant colors stood out clearly against the brown tones. Harper wore blue, orange, and green. Lou also recognized some whiteness. He heard people whispering, but no one approached him and the boy from the better neighborhoods.

Eventually, they arrived at Lou's hut.

"Looks cozy!" Harper announced and walked in unconcernedly. Lou followed him, trembling. "Okay... That's your bed over there? Sit down and eat some of your figs, I'll be right back. Promise. See you soon!" Lou could hear the smile in Harper's voice. Then his friend hurried away. Taken by surprise, Lou stared after his colors until they disappeared completely into the brown of the neighborhood. Lou put the figs where it was coolest and spread out the new clothes to look at. He liked the fabric. It was soft and smelled clean.

Too clean for him.

Lou was dirty. So he quickly shook the sand out of his new clothes, because it was sandy everywhere in his hut, folded it, and put it next to the bag of figs. Lou sniffed at himself. Immediately, he grimaced. He rarely had water to wash himself. Yes. He smelled bad. His hair was stringy. He was pale and thin. Everything hurt as if he was old. Lou could barely eat anything without feeling sick. The one fig had been more than enough. He preferred to save the others. He carefully stroked the good clothes again and curled up on his mat. His wounds were burning. He closed his eyes. Maybe Harper wouldn't come back. He doesn’t belong here.

It took some time, but Harper came back. And it sounded like he had a hard time dragging something with him. Lou rubbed his eyes. He had fallen asleep. "I'm back, my friend!" The other teenager sounded cheerful. Lou heard water splashing. "And I've got all sorts of things with me! New bandages, an ointment, a bowl of water, and a cloth..."

"What?"

"Come! Sit up! Your knees don't smell good."

"What?" Smell? But Harper did not respond to his question. Instead, he asked him to sit up again so he could take care of his knees.

"Where did you get all this from?" Lou wanted to know and sat up carefully. His back protested at the movement.

"Friends."

"And they gave you all this? Even though it's for me?" Lou shook his head. He wanted to pull his knees to him and hug them, but the slightest touch hurt.

"Although?" Harper snorted. "Why, though?"

"I'm cursed!"

"Yes? Are you sure about that? If you say so. Please, stretch your legs a bit. I remove the bandages, clean the wounds, smear ointment on them, and bandage them again. Okay? I’m very careful. That's a promise." Careful. Harper repeated this word again. Lou found it kind of comforting. But he was also afraid.

Lou nodded, trembling, and timidly he followed the instructions. "Good!", muttered the other boy. Then Lou felt his hands, soft and big, on his skin. He immediately flinched. This movement also hurt. "It’s fine!", whispered Harper. "Excuse me." He carefully removed the bandages and began to treat the wounds. It hurt. Lou flinched again and again. Harper apologized each time. "The wounds have become infected. But it should get better with the ointment!", he said softly as he bandaged Lou's knee. "Next up is your back. I'm just going to get some fresh water from the well."

"What? My back?" For that, Lou would have to take off his clothes and he didn't want to. Except for the shirt made of rags, he wore nothing. It barely reached his knees. "No." He shook his head. "You don't need that."

Harper shook his head and leaned close to Lou so that he could see his face better. Lou saw Harper's bright eyes. Brown. And the dark brown hair. "The wounds could also become inflamed if they aren’t treated. And you can't get to all the welts on your back on your own. Let me do that, shall I? I get water quickly. Do you need help? With taking off the tunic?"

Immediately, Lou shook his head. "No, the knees are enough."

"Lou..."

"No... Apart from this piece of cloth, I don't have anything on!" Lou didn't want Harper to see his naked, ugly, scrawny body. That was even worse than being touched.

"Lou... I fetch water. It's all good. I just look at the wounds. Not at anything else. Promise. I'll be right back."

If Lou had been able to lock the door, he would have done it. Of course, he knew Harper was right. The wounds had to be treated. And he also knew that Harper meant well. His tone was gentle, cautious... There was only truth in it. But Lou was scared. Terribly scared.

When Harper returned, Lou was sitting on his mat crying. He was trembling all over. "Oh!" He heard his new friend set aside the bowl, or was it a jug?, and carefully sat down next to him. He didn't touch Lou, but he still felt the warmth of his body. "Lou. I won't do anything to you. It's all good."

Lou shook his head.

"I know."

"No! You don't know anything!", Lou whimpered. "Nothing! I don't want to!"

"I know. Sorry. I don't want to scare you. And I'd leave you alone with it if it weren't so important."

Lou nodded cautiously. "I don't want to."

"I know. I’m sorry. You’re safe. Promised. Come on, I'll help you with the clothes. Yes?"

And Lou allowed Harper to help him out of his rags and take care of his back. Harper spoke to him all the time. Quietly and carefully. He touched Lou as little as possible and finally bandaged his back. He didn't mention that Lou was terribly thin, nor the burns or the ugly white spots. Lou cried all the time. "Okay. Done. Do you want to put on the new clothes?"

"No. I'm just making them dirty!" Lou replied. "The old clothes will do."

"Are you sure? Clean clothes are better for the wounds... Even if they might get dirty..."

"I'm sure."

"Good. Come! I'll help you."

Harper's hands were gentle. Lou had never felt such gentle hands before. That alone was enough for him to cry again. Not just out of fear and shame. "Thank you", he whispered.