Extract two
Tom gazed into the depths of Mickey's
dark eyes and lost himself momentarily. The urge to admit he had only sought a
reading of his future to create a reason to find the eighteen year old was
strong. There had been no lie or evasion but Tom felt dishonest in not telling
the young man everything. Dark eyes looked back at him, they grew in his vision
and it was only as he felt his lips touch Mickey's that the youth realised he
had leant in and kissed the gypsy.
The punch from Mickey was hard and
unexpected, Tom fell backward from the blow and tumbled to the dirt and brown
leaves behind the stump.
Mickey came to his feet fast and
hurried to where Tom had fallen. As he moved close, Tom shuffled backward
expecting more violence. Sitting among the detritus of the forest with his
hands behind him he was unable to retreat faster than the gypsy's approach.
“”Khul! I'm sorry” the gypsy cried
out. Mickey dropped to his knees beside Tom and reached out to lightly touch
Tom's chin where his fist had impacted. There was no mark and with little flesh
over the bone it was likely there would be no bruise. “So sorry, it was a
reflex.”
Wide-eyed and shocked Tom was frozen
to the spot. He let the youth squat beside him but he couldn't take his fearful
expression from the face of the man who had punched him. Unsure how to react to
the apologies that tumbled from Mickey he remained immobile as the gypsy knelt
with one knee beside him and his other at his back.
Mickey's examination of where his
blow had landed softened and his manipulation of the youth's head slowly became
a caress. Mickey leant in and unprompted, he gently placed his lips to Tom's
and kissed him. “I'm sorry” he reiterated.
Tom didn't know what to say. Mickey
pulled back and sat on his heels, his eyes showed a new nervousness as he
waited for the youth to react. Time froze for the pair as they sat, clothes
touching but each unsure of what to do. The gypsy was like a bad puppy waiting
for a punishment; Tom was startled and confused.
Swallowing back his upset, Tom stretched
his palm to Mickey's cheek and held his hand against the tanned skin. Raising
his own hand, the young gypsy placed it over Tom's as though he feared without
the reinforcement of the contact, Tom may withdraw his own hand.
A tear trickled from Mickey's eye and
over his cheekbone. It touched Tom and ran slowly down his finger to nestle
against his thumb. The two youths moved toward each other once more,
consciously, they closed on each other to kiss again.
The laughter of children ripped the
moment from them and Mickey pulled away. His hands dropped to the dirt and he
span in a circle to come standing in a swift motion and his eyes locked on the
direction of the sound. Glimpsing the primary colours of skirts through the
trees he knew immediately the laughter had come from Ruby and Dinah.
Angry with himself as much at the two
girls, his ire quickly turned to fear as the potential repercussions filtered
into his thinking. Quickly Mickey grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him to his
feet. “Come wit' me, make no sound.”
Still holding Tom's hand, Mickey
pulled the youth deeper into the woods. The young villager had spent a lot of
time in the woods and fields when he was growing up but he struggled to keep
pace with the sure-footed gypsy as they hastened at least two hundred yards
further into the forest.
Finally Mickey stopped. Tugging Tom
against a tree, he pushed the gorgio against the trunk of an oak and held him
still with one hand. Fingers widespread against the boy’s chest, he stared past
the tree in the direction they had just left and said nothing.
“Who was it?” Tom asked in a whisper
but Mickey simply shook his head and quietly shushed him. Tom had barely heard
the laughter and the more he tied to remember the moment, the further it
slipped from him. Initially he hadn't given the incident much thought beyond it
being an interruption of his kiss with Mickey but now, with his back to the
tree and having nothing to do but imagine, he started to worry.
If whoever it had been spoke of it
Tom realised the foretold pain of his future could be much closer than he had
imagined. The youngster began to imagine the police being called, a public
court case and a subsequent jail sentence. Despite Mickey's urging for quiet,
Tom began to cry in earnest. He no longer felt the pain of the punch of he had
received, now he wept from fear and shame.
Mickey tore his eyes from the trees
where he had been watching to see if the two girls would return and glared hard
at Tom. “Stop it!” Despite only being in contact with the boy with his
fingertips he managed to shove the youngster hard against the tree.
“We're going to go to prison!” Tom
wailed.
Mickey stared intently at Tom and he
frowned. “Prison? Amria!” Mickey shook his head. “Don't be worrying for prison;
my da learns of this, the Familia will see me muller'd. Dead. You understand
that?”
The gypsy's words sobered Tom up
instantly and suddenly a terror grew in him. “What?”
Mickey didn't reply but turned his
eyes back to the trees. His hand moved from the chest of the young man and while
he kept his gaze locked in the direction of the camp he shifted his arm upward
so as to rest his palm against Tom's neck. Gently he caressed the soft skin,
his fingers lightly touched behind the teenager's ear.
Still worried at their combined
fates, Tom let the gypsy's soothing hand ease some of the tension from him.
With nothing to do but try to hold in his fears and suppress the sobs that were
still trying to escape him, the boy closed his eyes and focussed solely on
Mickey's touch.
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