What it Takes
by Cabbers

Hunter thinks he should tell her. They're lying there together, naked, under a sheet on her bed. She still wanted him after she found out he has HIV, right, so it should be safe to tell her the rest. I mean, if she didn't reject him after *that*, he should be able to tell her practically anything. But it's not the same, and he knows it.

There may have been a different life before, when he was little, but the only proof he has of it is in the negative spaces. He remembers things getting worse. His mom lost her job, started to be angry and tired all the time. Before too long, she'd lash out at him when she was angry, and cry and apologize afterwards. There started to be needles around, strange men around. His dad came by less and less. He remembers hating and fearing these changes as they were happening, so presumably there was something before, something his eight- and nine- and ten-year-old self was comparing them to. But he didn't remember.

He's tried to remember the first time it happened, but for the life of him, he can't. It doesn't matter that much, though, they were all pretty much the same.

He'd lie curled up in bed afterwards, while his mom was out getting what she needed. He couldn't help thinking about it. There was no point in trying not to. He'd think obsessively about a particularly annoying detail; how much the guy's breath reeked, or how the seatbelt buckle had jammed in his stomach the whole time, or how it was too fucking cold to be sticking his ass out this time of year. He would've said, if he'd had anyone to tell, that he didn't give a shit about the sex part, but you'd think someone'd put on clean underwear before going out to get their dick sucked, for chrissakes.

After a while, he wasn't afraid of the men any more. He started to be afraid, though, that she would sell him entirely, instead of just renting him out. That she'd trade him to a dealer, like he always heard happened to other kids. As soon as it occurred to him, he knew she was capable of it. And as much as it scared him to be with her, the idea of being away from her was infinitely more terrifying. The thought gnawed at him, so much so that he started spending more time at home, started trying to please her, and not just to avoid her temper.

In a way, it was almost a relief to have the option taken away when she went to jail. Being *taken* away meant that there was no way she could *give* him away.

Six months in and out of foster homes and he almost wished he was back with his mom. Well, maybe not all of them had been awful, but sure as shit none of them had been *good*. But it was only the last one that made him decide to run away and stay away. If he was going to be subject to that, he figured he could get a better deal than room and lousy board out of it.

Living out there wasn't that bad. It wasn't some Lifetime Movie of the Week crap. He'd spent nights on the street before, and he knew some guys. He'd even turned a few tricks since his mom went to jail, when he needed the money badly enough in some foster home. So it wasn't like it was a big deal, except that it did get pretty fucking cold some nights. But he could deal.

He wants Callie to know all this. But how the fuck does he tell her?

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