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Spring…
Ah, Spring, a time of rebirth and renewal; when flowers bloomed with colors vibrant and joyful to lift the tired air of the Winter season that has come to pass, and when the mornings were crisp with clouds of fog and drops of dew coating the world like sparkling stars.
Mrs. Hutchins opened the last window in the living room to welcome in the warmer weather. It was quite literally a breath of fresh air in this dusty little apartment building.
Spring break had come and really kicked off the season, conversations close enough to be heard but far away to be indiscernible passed by the windows as adults and children alike took advantage of such a nice day.
It was no lie to admit she would enjoy spending some time outside under the sun as well, but she was a busy woman! Renewal applied to more than nature - yes yes! Dust built like crazy while being cooped up all fall and winter and it was the perfect opportunity to start her routine Spring cleaning. Maybe she would finally be able to get those plants of hers in the lobby to perk up with some sunlight.
At her sink with the handle that squeaked from time to time but never seemed to really be broken, she filled up her small plastic watering can. Sweet William had gotten her a new one for Christmas, it was shaped like a little bird and poured out the beak! So novel, but so useful as well.
She made sure to check the soil of the plants in the lobby before giving them a nice watering. Maybe she was just being optimistic, but they looked a little more lively today than they had before.
Crash!
Oh, dear.
Mrs. Hutchins turned so quickly at the sound she almost poured out water all over the floor. The source wasn't as scary as one would expect from something of that volume, though.
No, why, it was just William, who was currently struggling at carrying a heavy garbage bag down the steps without letting it tumble down and take him with it.
"Good morning, William!" Mrs. Hutchins greeted. Her watering can was set on a table with smaller potted plants on it so she could spring into action. No heavyweight she was, but Will was…a smaller boy for his age. Shorter and a little thinner than average, with muscle to match.
"Good-" he grunted as he tugged it down the next few steps, "good morning, Mrs. Hutchins." He put on one of his familiar smiles, a little crooked but still sweet. "Sorry for the noise."
"Don't be sorry, here, let me help you."
William tried to protest, but he knew the woman had so much kindness in her heart it was at risk of bursting at any time - and that she wouldn't take "no" for an answer no matter how much he insisted.
It'd bother anyone else, but not him. He was never particularly good at asking for anything, especially help.
Mrs. Hutchins had such a capacity for kindness and a need to help others she saw in distress. On one occasion he had to decline an offer of free kittens she had no choice but to sweep up off the side of the street, so she instead kept them and cared for them herself.
Even if Will couldn't drag the bag far without a break every ten feet, he wouldn't be useless. He opened the door for his concierge and did the same with the dumpster lid.
With a huff and a good heft, she tossed out the bag and wiped her hands together while flashing the boy a smile.
"Are you doing some Spring cleaning too?"
"I guess so." He held the door for her once more and stepped inside behind her. "I've got nothing else to do while school is out, and my place is…" He looked down at his feet, then at the wall. His hands gripped the bottom of his t-shirt. "A little bit dirty. Dust 'n stuff, you know?"
He hid his face because he felt it heat up from embarrassment. It was not just dust or little at all.
It was more like a tornado of trash and sadness had blown through his entire apartment and thrown processed food packets and disposable drink containers everywhere, then tried desperately to hide it so it wouldn't have to look at them and feel even sadder.
But he would deal with it, at least to the point where he could sleep on his bed comfortably without having to avoid ten empty cans of soda and three of them that were still half full to get to it first.
And his kitchen. God- the kitchen needed help. Perhaps it was to the point where bleach and those comical yellow gloves that were always in cartoons were the safest options to clean it. It was a surprise to him that no pests had yet made themselves at home in the mess.
Ah, shit, he had been despairing about his apartment so hard he didn’t notice Mrs. Hutchins had said something to him and was patiently awaiting his response. What face was he to make?
“Sorry, could you repeat that?” His expression twisted into a mild surprise in hopes that she didn’t think he was ignoring her on purpose.
“If you’ve got nothing else to do, wouldn’t you like some help cleaning? We could talk about anything!” She began to list fun topics as she walked to fetch her feather duster, Will nearly tripped over his own feet to follow after her so he could still hear her.
“Like school, or your hobbies…” She patted the duster with her hand to make sure it was nice and clean. “What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a small mess, I can handle it on my own, Mrs. Hutchins.”
“If it’s small, we can spend today on it, then!”
Bless her heart for wanting to help, but he honestly felt like he was about to combust on the spot.
=====================
The action of opening his front door never scared him this much. He could never face his concierge again if she saw what his definition of a “small mess” was.
Why the hell did the door have to lead right into the kitchen - the hellish center and worst part of the mess? Maybe if he fell down the steps and shattered a bone he wouldn’t have to do this. The hips were a weak point, right?
No - As much as he hated cleaning, and even more, people seeing how awful his state of living was, he couldn’t afford the hospital bill on any kind of broken bone.
Seconds felt like minutes as he unlocked the door and twisted the handle. He already wanted to apologize in advance for what was on the other side. It might take a few years off her life.
It was a straight-up fucking biohazard.
He had swung the door open with a little more force than intended due to his nerves. The sound of it hitting the wall made him flinch and apologize before Mrs. Hutchins could say anything, and he led her inside.
His face crinkled up into a repulsed expression as she took a nice, long look around his kitchen.
The trashcan was almost overflowing with the garbage from way too much junk food that he substituted for real meals, and greasy packaging from fast food, takeout, and delivery. No better was the countertop, the small number of dishes he did own were piled on it and in the sink, some of them still a bit dirty. Empty and half-full cups took up most of the counter space and what wasn’t taken up by them was so small that he could barely fit a pile of mail onto it.
Disgusting.
“Sorry, I don’t have a lot of time to clean.” Mrs. Hutchins had no time to reply before he began attempting to compact down the pile of trash into the can, stomping it down with his foot enough that more could fit.
He was lying again. He barely attended school, and sure, sometimes he was busy with work, but he otherwise did nothing outside of that.
It just felt humiliating to admit that he would get home, do fuck all, then feed himself with junk before sleeping for much longer than someone who did as little as he did should.
He didn’t work all day every day or stay up late into the hours of the night studying and working away like a good kid, he didn’t spend all day with friends or family.
He did absolutely nothing with himself. It made him angry. Mom always taught him to be clean, she got angry when he wasn’t. He was so filthy. A disgusting and naughty little boy. Naughty children don’t get mommy’s love, naughty children-
“William.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin, his face betrayed him and twisted into primal fear, unsettlingly large teeth grit together and eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
It took a good deal of fighting with his face before he could look at Mrs. Hutchins, but it still twitched and tried to sink into a timid sadness.
He was preparing to face some kind of disgust or anger from her - it was her apartment complex, after all, and he was letting the place rot away.
But she looked…sad?
“What’s wrong?” William pulled his foot from the trashcan.
“I should be asking you, honey.” Her hands landed gently on his shoulders and she looked him in the eyes - he fought the urge to stare at the ground. Eye contact was so invasive but he knew people called you rude if you didn’t look at them while they talked. “Is everything okay? You can always ask me for help. Especially if it gets this bad.”
“Huh?” Will was embarrassed at how easily the remark came out, and how absolutely dumbfounded he sounded too. “I promise it’s not always like this, I just-” He messed with his bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted to muster up a believable enough lie. “Third quarter‘s always the hardest, I’ve just been really busy with school and – and work and-”
The lie began to fall apart and so did his confidence as he began to stutter out his words.
“William…”
His eyes turned to the floor and his shoulders tensed. Guilt and shame swirled around inside of him, tightening his chest and forming a twisting pit in his stomach. The feeling was familiar, but it never felt better no matter how many times he had experienced it.
“I...I’m sorry.” He swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. “I won’t let it happen again. I swear.” Will gently removed the older lady's hands from his shoulders and went to fetch a new garbage bag.
He didn’t have the energy for dishes anyways, and especially not all of them. Paper plates and plastic red cups were cheaper than actual cutlery sets, and he drank soda more than anything.
If he was smart enough with his cash, he could buy it all again…
Eventually.
With one arm he swept the mountain of soda cans, empty and not, into the open trash bag.
As soon as he tried to trash a cup that only had a few drops of what looked like beer in it left, Mrs. Hutchins grabbed his arm and repeated his name once more.
The contact was too sudden, his entire body tensed up and pulled away in the way he learned from certain encounters at school, which left the glass to slip from his hand and crash to the floor with an awful, piercingly loud sound that made him also drop the trash bag so he could press his hands over his ears harshly.
Mrs. Hutchins watched him with pity…no, sympathy. She felt a deep ache in her heart seeing all of this.
Something was wrong, really and deeply wrong, and he needed help. She wanted to be that help.
But he was so jumpy, so prone to overthinking and lying through his teeth to save his hide. She had spoken to him before and caught onto the fact that he tended to tell little fibs to keep her from worrying about him, and she let him believe that she was none the wiser to the truth but…the boy was too thin, and she noticed that he only left early on the days he actually went to school. Not to mention the dark circles under his eyes that made his face too sunken in and exhausted for a boy his age.
Maybe she could help him, but…not like this.
She had to get him to understand that she really cared and that she wasn’t upset at him for the mess, or how poorly he ate – or for anything. He shouldn’t feel like he needs to lie to her, because he has no reason to. He was a very troubled boy and none of the sufferings he endured because of that would ever be his fault.
Will had his eyes screwed shut so tight it look like they hurt, with his brows knit together harshly. He hunched over the counter and gripped at his hair in between motions of rubbing his face and clawing at his neck while he heaved breaths in and out.
It was all too much – the tension and the guilt, the touching, the eye contact, and especially the noise.
He tried to focus on the pattern of his countertop and even his breaths, but even so, they were still violent and ragged no matter how slow he took them in and let them out.
“I can’t-” He stammered, lifting his head only enough so that he was heard better. “Please…leave. I can’t right now. I-” He yanked at a bunch of hair his hand had curled around, and tears were fighting to pour from his eyes. “You’re so nice for wanting to help me, but I- I can’t. I just…not today. Please.”
It hurt to push her away, she was one of the few people who was kind to him so unconditionally, no matter how strange he was.
But he couldn’t handle someone as sweet as her to see how pathetic and filthy he was.
He heard her say something in a sweet tone that he couldn’t comprehend right now, then the sound of the front door clicking shut.
And the floodgates broke.
The pain when he dropped himself down onto the counter and slammed his forehead into it was ignored, and his nails painfully pressed into the surface. A sound that was closer to that of a kicked animal than a sob came out of his throat, and once more, but this time it sounded enough like garbled human speech that he hoped no one heard his profane cry.
He strained his neck to lift his head up, only to purposefully drop it back down onto the counter again.
Hands curled into fists, he kept repeating the action, now outwardly sobbing and cursing himself to punctuate each slam back down.
He did this whenever mom got mad at him. She never stopped him, it was what he deserved when he threw a fit like this. He only stopped once it began to bruise. Mom got mad when people could see his boo-boos…
But now the only limiting factor was how much his neck could take before he couldn’t do it anymore. At age eighteen he knew very well how bad it was to do this, but he didn’t give a shit – especially when he was to this point where he was so overwhelmed he couldn’t reason with himself to stop anyways.
Whatever. He didn’t have school tomorrow anyway. No one would see the bruise.
=====================
William hadn’t left his apartment since the other day, and worried was a huge understatement when it came to how Mrs. Hutchins felt.
The stress had driven her to deep clean her apartment with so much fervor that Ted had been asking her all day what the matter was, but she insisted it was nothing. She knew he knew better though.
He would’ve made some noise by now, or at least come downstairs once, right?
She never told him, but when he listened to music, she could always faintly hear it. It never really bothered her, and now the absence of it was what really got her worried. Something was wrong, she could feel it in the air.
Some deep instinct of sort had kicked in, and she was currently slipping some leftover pancakes from today’s breakfast into a Tupperware, with some jelly on the side. William hated how syrup stuck to everything no matter how neatly he ate, and jam had too many seeds and bits of fruit for his taste.
But he liked how soft bananas were, so she pulled one from the bunch on the counter and set it on the lid of the Tupperware before she made out for his apartment.
These stairs weren’t the best on her knees, but no stairs could keep her from making sure this boy was alright.
Knock knock knock…
…
Nothing
“William?” Worry already grew inside her, he usually at least called out to let her know he heard her or paused his music or something–
Once more she knocked, waited, called his name, and got nothing.
She never used it unless she absolutely had to, but she kept it on hand just in case. One by one, she sorted through the numbered keys on her carabiner until she found the one with a strip of masking tape on top and smudged sharpie writing of the name “WILLIAM”.
The lock clicked open with a little jiggling of the key once it was turned, and she cracked the door open. His kitchen was barren compared to yesterday, with a few garbage bags along the wall, presumably left there to be taken out at another time. The pile of mail had also presumably been sorted, with only a few left in a small pile on top of a small book.
It brought a frown to her face. She wished she could’ve helped him, but she knew if she stayed and kept insisting, it’d probably have only made him feel worse than the already awful state he had been in once she left.
“William, dear?”
She finally got a reply – well, it was sort of a reply. A moan of pain from the living room.
Springing into action, she swung the door open and placed the food on the counter so fast it nearly flew out of her hands. With a speed that was uncommon for a woman her age, she had run to the living room to make sure William was okay.
Splayed across his couch with a pained expression, the boy laid, clutching a homemade icepack to his forehead.
“Sorry…s’just a headache.” He groaned, only cracking an eye open wide enough to fully acknowledge Mrs. Hutchins. “I’ll take out the trash soon…” With a sigh, he closed his eyes and dropped his arm over the side of the couch to leave the ice pack carefully balanced on his head.
“William, dear…” The older lady approached the boy and knelt at the side of the couch, and gently held his hand between two of hers. He opened his eye and hummed in question.
“Don’t be sorry honey. It’s alright.”
“But-”
“No, no ‘but’s. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Her tone was serious but her expression was gentle. “I know you struggle a lot, even if you try to hide it from me. I know. And I want to help you. You’re too young to know this much strife.”
Will looked confused, then scared, and then sad. His face was betraying him.
“You don’t have to lie to me, I’m here to help if you need it, even if it feels hard to ask.”
He didn’t look her in the eyes, he was instead staring down at her hands around his, fighting the wetness that he could feel in them. “We can clean up another day when you feel better. It’s more important to me that you feel alright – way more important than any mess.”
Will was crying. Openly and genuinely. The ice pack slipped from his head as he leaned forward and awkwardly grasped at Mrs. Hutchins’ back in a weak hug, a hug that she returned.
One of her hands moved up to pet his hair and the other to gently stroke his back to try and soothe him.
“Thank you.” The boy choked out.
“Thank you…”