Page 75 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Hilary said it in that breezy way he used when he was trying to hide his anxiety, but it wasn’t working. He was oozing it, a fearful kind of desperation.

“I’ll be here,” Trenton promised, but didn’t know what other kind of consolation to offer. “I won’t leave. Not for a minute. Or do you want me to come with you? I could sit quietly. I wouldn’t be in the way.”

Hilary smiled, or tried to, anyway. The anxiety held him too tightly to do it properly. “Am I that unstable?”

“I want to be there,” Trenton corrected. “The days when you would come to the restaurant—when you would stay for hours. That was everything to me. It’s still everything. I couldn’t have made it without you. I don’t want to make it without you. So don’t think I’ll go anywhere. I’d have to be crazy to leave you. Even crazier than I already am. Or do you think I could find someone like you again?”

“You’ll find me wherever you go. I told you; I’m going to keep following you.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” He gave over his phone. “Put the GPS tracker on it.”

It was boring without Hilary. There was a lot in the apartment still to explore and so many books to read, but he wanted the time to pass. Seven to seven. That was the official shift. But there was also giving report to the oncoming nurse, and that could go overtime, especially if the nurse taking over arrived late. Added to all that was the commute, and Trenton realized, too late, that he could have offered to meet Hilary at the hospital. That would have cut out some of the waiting. But he’d already agreed to wait at home. He could text Hilary to change the plan, but that might cause panic, and he didn’t want Hilary thinking he felt trapped, or worse, that he couldn’t be trusted to keep his promises. He’d wait, and Hilary would see he was reliable. That was the plan. But he still wanted to do something. Some grand, sweeping gesture that would announce him trustworthy and worth choosing forever. There wasn’t anything like that, but there were little things the man might like. It was only after he’d finished the laundry and made the muffins that he realized he was playing house.

Hilary had explicitly said there were no expectations in bringing him home, no role for him to play, and yet, here he was, at the first opportunity, playing the wife. It was embarrassing. Not the being a wife part, but being a self-appointed one, as if he thought that a couple of meals and a clean house would earn him any title other than glorified roommate. Still, it was better to keep busy. Reading was an option, but he was too impatient to sit still. Moving around was better, but he was quickly running out of tasks to do. Hilary wasn’t a clean freak, but he certainly was tidy. The counters were clear, the floors clean, and even the shower was in a good state with no sign of grout or mold. It made him wonder whether Hilary would be insulted to find him cleaning, as if his own work wasn’t good enough. But Hilary wasn’t the type to be looking for insults. Still, this thing between them felt so new, as if the year together at the restaurant had been no preparation. He hadn’t known he was being stalked then, and the knowing seemed to change things. He tried Googling it, but of course there was little about traditional stalking that related to his situation. He wasn’t being held against his will. His stalker wasn’t doing anything to make him uncomfortable. In that way, Hilary didn’t really seem like a stalker at all, but it felt rude to deny it. After all, Hilary would know whether he was a stalker. And the man had organized his life around seeing him. That, by itself, did kind of fit the ‘stalker’ definition, though it was missing the connotation of distress. Trenton would have liked to get another opinion on it, and he thought maybe he’d bring it up again with Hilary, but when he heard him at the door, he forgot any and all questions.

He moved so quickly that by the time the door opened he was waiting, making it look as if he’d been standing in front of it all day. It wasn’t what Hilary was expecting, and he saw the surprise fold out into the man’s tiredness. For a moment, they just looked at each other, not really daring to believe the other was there.

“You stayed,” Hilary said. There was no insinuation there. No praise or condemnation. He was just saying it.

Trenton stepped close and bent over a little, hoping, and it came. Hilary brushed a kiss to his cheek as easily as he had that morning. Easier, maybe. And then he was moving, stepping in to get where it was warm. “It smells good. You made dinner?”

“Yes.”

Trenton felt shy again, the way a child might when adults were around.

“Do you mind if I wash up quick?” Hilary asked. “I worry about the germs I bring home. You can start eating if you’re hungry. Don’t wait for me.”

He’d waited all day. What was a little more? But it wasn’t waiting—it was following. Maybe he was part dog, but he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to move with Hilary from room to room, keeping him in sight at all times.

“Comfortable?” Hilary asked after Trenton sat down on the toilet, waiting for him to get out of the shower.

“It’s warm.”

“It’ll feel freezing once I get out, though. I hate that part.”

“You could stay inside forever.”

“The water tank’s too small for that. Besides, your dinner’s waiting.”

Hilary had three plates. It was immensely satisfying to watch, though he did worry a little for the man’s stomach. “You don’t get reflux?”

“Titanium esophagus. You eat like a bird.”

“I eat a normal amount.”

“Normal people eat like birds.”

Once Hilary had scraped his plates clean, Trenton was treated to a surprise. Instead of letting him get up to fetch the muffins, Hilary took hold of his hand and said, “I missed you,” simple and heartbreaking.

It explained everything. That whole day’s restlessness and inability to focus. He hadn’t just been waiting; he’d been missing. He ought to have recognized it, but he’d never had anyone to miss before. “I missed you too.”

“Stop seducing me.”

They read again on the couch while Hilary made short work of the muffins, though this time the man ate carefully to keep from making crumbs like he had that morning. “You cleaned the walls.”

It was embarrassing to have the man notice. Like an accusation of just how antsy and helpless he’d been. “How could you tell?”

“That spot’s finally gone. The one from the tomato sauce that I couldn’t reach. Thank you.”