Love On Display

Jon wrapped his jacket tighter around himself as another series of coughs wracked his thin frame. The rain pounded down on him, and he shivered as it soaked through his jacket and clothes, running in rivulets down his skin. The weather had turned two nights ago and he hadn't been able to find safe shelter. He'd started coughing last night and felt like he had a temperature. He stumbled over the edge of the sidewalk and swore under his breath; now was really not a good time to be getting sick.

He pushed his hair back from his face and sighed as his stomach growled, reminding him how long it had been since the last meal he'd had. Nearly two days. Coughing hard again, Jon sank to the ground and wrapped his arms around his knees, looking around. He was cold, wet, tired, hungry, getting sick and, from the look of things, completely lost. He didn't recognise the area at all, and that made him wary of taking shelter, not knowing who would be where. One thing he knew was that he couldn't sit in the middle of the street all night. He slowly hauled himself to his feet, his eyes catching sight of an old, seemingly abandoned - but with a roof - warehouse on the opposite side of the street.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Jon crossed over and walked around the building, watching through the windows carefully. Satisfied there was no sign of life, he made his way around the back and kicked in a half-rotten door panel, glancing around one last time before slipping in.

He sank exhausted to the floor, his bag falling from his back to land next to him, rainwater dripping and puddling on the floor around him. He leaned his head against the wall and wrapped his arms around his body, eyes starting to slide closed.

A sharp kick to the ribs woke Jon and he slowly sat up, blinking at the group of men who had circled him. He rose to an unsteady crouch, frowning when he realised they were emptying his bag, throwing his clothing amongst themselves. He bit back a cough, gnawing on his lower lip to stifle his protests at their behaviour.

"What are you doin' here?" One of them stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Jon's jacket, pulling him to his feet. "This is our warehouse, and you're not one s. \s. "

Jon pulled away from the other man and doubled over, falling to his knees in a coughing fit. He could hear the jeers and laughter of the gang ringing in his ears and felt his cheeks flaming red with embarrassment. He pulled himself to his feet and stood his ground opposite the man he assumed was the leader of the gang.

"I didn't know it was your warehouse," Jon replied.

"Well you do now, so I think you'd better leave."

Jon sighed and nodded. "Ok, sure. Just give me my back bag and I'll be on my way."

The gang members laughed and threw the bag to their leader, who grinned back at them. "This bag?" He asked, tossing it up in the air and catching it again, raising one eyebrow at Jon.

Jon stepped forward and reached for the bag, falling flat on his face when another one of the boys tripped him up. The gang all laughed and the leader threw the bag to the floor.

Jon reached for the bag but the gang leader grabbed it before him. Jon stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at him.

"Give me back my bag" He reached out for it but the other man stepped to one side, tripping Jon over again.

"Fuck off!" The gang laughed. "The bag's ours now kid, so just get lost."

Jon reluctantly stepped into the circle formed by the rest of the gang in an effort to retrieve his bag. "Just give it back," He growled, the effect ruined by another fit of coughing that left him doubled over, tears threatening to stream down his face. The gang le ste stepped forward and pushed Jon back down to the floor before he had time tooverover.

He bent down and hissed into Jon's ear. "We asked you nicely," he reminded Jon, kicking him in the stomach.

Jon moaned and curled into a ball as the rest of the gang turned on him, kicking, punching, spitting at him. He lashed out when he felt them tugging off his shoes but they soon overpowered him, holding him down as first his sneakers, then his jacket were removed and thrown around the warehouse along with his bag.

Grabbing a fistful of Jon's t-shirt, the gang leader pulled him to his feet and propelled him towards a side entrance to the warehouse, pushing him outside. "Now get lost." Jon didn't move, just shook his head slowly and ran his tongue over his split lip, tasting blood. "What are you waiting for?" The gang leader signalled to two of the others who stormed out of tareharehouse and started pushing Jon around. Jon grunted and turned, stumbling away from them, increasing speed when they started chasing and throwing stones at him.