Ooo, at last someone has solved the mystery. Jacob is indeed the kid that finds Sam in a motel room. (Compared to Sam, Jacob at his 17 years of age is just a kid) Neither of them expect it, that’s for sure.
Annnd… since someone has guessed who the kid in the story is, it’s time for another sneak peek!
“Wow,” Jacob muttered aloud, his free hand nudging the little bag that now lay mostly free on his hand, part of the strap secured just as much as the tiny chest was. Two impossibly small clasps held it shut and Jacob couldn’t help the amazed smile. He poked at one of the teeny legs, amazed that the little guy was even wearing miniature jeans, denim and all.
His gaze drifted back to the little guy’s face. “What are you?” he asked, unsure if he’d even be understood. It was worth a shot.
The little guy didn’t seem to have understood Jacob’s question, judging by the way he resumed his struggles. He’d heard, definitely, because Jacob had felt him tense up from the noise. He supposed his voice might be a little loud for such tiny ears. He’d have to remember that so he didn’t freak the little guy out any more than he already was.
One of the little legs kicked at his hand. The tiniest boot Jacob had ever seen planted on one of his knuckles and pushed with all its might. He didn’t actually feel any force from it, though it was clear the tiny person was giving it his all. Some pity softened his expression. The poor guy was just so small. Jacob moved his hand away.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” he said, in a quieter voice than before. Hopefully it would offer some comfort to the little guy, even if he didn’t understand the words; it was still tough to tell if he could.
Jacob could feel the panicked breaths speeding in and out of the small chest pinned by his thumb. The little guy was practically hyperventilating there. And he was pushing against Jacob’s thumb for all he was worth, but again Jacob didn’t actually feel the force behind the little shoves. Still, clearly he wasn’t helping with the poor guy’s breathing, so he’d have to think of something else.
Jacob got an idea and latched onto it. He shifted his hand so it was flatter, and then used his thumb to gently nudge the small person so he was propped up against Jacob’s curled fingers like a seat. That done, he moved his thumb so it rested on the tiny shins instead, hopefully preventing any panicked flailing without constricting the little guy’s breathing.
“There, isn’t that- fuckdammit! ”