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Rhys’s first text was teasing, calling me a space cadet, but by the last one he was clearly worried and pissed off that I hadn’t texted back. I texted him back: Ugh I AM a space cadet and I crashed out early but everythings fine. How are you?
Then I texted Theo and Caleb: Im so sorry you guys. I fell asleep. Im an asshole.
The knock on the door came before the text even chimed sent. I dragged myself to the front door with a sneaking suspicion I knew who I’d find there.
“Caleb said heart attack in the shower, but I thought maybe creepy home invasion by people with animal masks,” Theo said. Because that wasn’t terrifying fuel for my nightmare fire at all.
I pushed my tangled hair out of my eyes. “Um, no. Sorry to disappoint. Nothing quite so dramatic. I just fell asleep right when I got home and I—fuck, I woke up just now. Guess I was dragging a little this week. Sorry.”
“No big deal. Caleb just made hash. Which, ya know, is all Caleb can make.” He rolled his eyes but there was such tenderness in his exasperation that it made my stomach lurch with envy. “Anyway, I came over without calling or being invited because . . . um. You’re clearly not doing well. Which, yeah, I know is rude to say, and I know you’re a super-stoic-everything-is-fine guy, which usually I’d respect, but . . . it’s obviously not. So. Here I am.”
“What? No, I’m fine,” I said automatically, and Theo smirked at me.
“Dude. You look like hammered shit. No one falls asleep right after work unless they’re not sleeping. You’ve got a nest on your couch that’s even worse than the one Caleb used to have on his. And you look like you’ve lost ten pounds since I last saw you. Also you’re wearing one of Rhys’s shirts and you clearly haven’t washed it in—” He leaned in and sniffed at me. “Yeah, a long time.”
I tugged the sleeves of Rhys’s shirt down over my fists and hunched my shoulders.
“So anyway. I’m gonna come inside, and you’re gonna take a shower please. Okay? I’ll make coffee. No, please, let me make it,” Theo said as I opened my mouth to protest.
Even though I was vaguely resentful of Theo showing up unannounced and ordering me around, there was a part of me that was so fucking relieved to be told what to do so I didn’t have to choose that I just drifted upstairs and did as he said.
When I came down from my shower, wearing my own clothes, Theo said, “Matt. You’ve got literally no food.”
“Busy week.”
“But I’m hungry,” he said grouchily, and it really shouldn’t have been adorable to see a grown man make that expression.
“Well, then I guess you should’ve stayed home and gotten Caleb to make you some more hash instead of coming over uninvited.”
“Yeah, okay, fair.”
He handed me a cup of sugary coffee, and I had to acknowledge that it was much, much better than mine.
“Dammit, how’d you do that?”
Theo laughed and shrugged, sipping his coffee.
“So what’s with the nest?” he asked, eyes darting to the couch. I wanted to protest, but the blankets were curled up in a damning configuration, and there was a semicircle of books around them. It was a goddamn nest.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said.
Theo usually seemed cool, or a little grouchy, or weirdly excitable. But now he fixed me with a look of pure sadness. “God, you must miss him so much,” he said. “I’m really fucking sorry.”
And under the weight of that empathic kindness, something inside me broke. I pushed my coffee away and tried to get up from the table but my foot was wrapped around the leg of the chair and I stumbled awkwardly. Theo reached out a hand to steady me, and I pulled away. If he touched me right now, I’d lose it.
I made a sound like an animal and hated myself for it.
Theo sat back down, but pulled his knee up and hugged it. His silvery-blue eyes stared blankly across the room. “Did you know my grandparents raised me?” he asked.
“No.” I didn’t think I’d ever heard him mention them at all.
“Yeah. My mom took off right after she had me and left me with them. They didn’t tell me until high school, but . . . I always knew there was something off. They were there and all, and they had rules and expectations, but . . . I just always kind of knew they didn’t care that much. Or, well. They cared, I guess. They just, um, didn’t really . . . they weren’t warm and they didn’t, like, love me much?”
His voice was the uncertain scratch of someone speaking unfamiliar words.
“When they told me, I suddenly tried really hard to do everything they said. Like maybe I could . . . I dunno, earn their love or something. But.” He shrugged. “Didn’t work. And I just felt like a pathetic puppet. I didn’t really get how bad it had felt until I realized how good it felt to be loved by Caleb. You know? Sounds all self-help-book-y or whatever, but I kinda didn’t realize that love wasn’t supposed to be something that you had to earn.”
