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We’re back inside the room with sharp things. The kitchen, he said? And then I hear that familiar heavy click, and then?—
Oh, sweet God, yes.It’s cold. The air is cold.
So much better.
He left me here before. I thought he wanted to kill me. I still think he does, so maybe he’ll leave me here again.
But he doesn’t leave at all. Demyen sets me down on the cold cement floor, then sits down next to me. This is when I see—he’s wearing pajama pants. No shirt, no shoes, just gray pajama pants.
His hair looks ruffled, too.
Did he… did he wake up to check on me?
My head hurts too much to ask these questions. Still too hot, although the cold air helps. Demyen reaches behind us, grabs a bag of frozen peas, and presses it to my forehead. The way he does it pulls me close to him. His arm is wrapped around me to hold the bag in place.
I have nowhere to go except further into him. So I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.
It’s freezing in here, but neither of us shiver. He jumps, just for the quickest moment, when I loop my arm around his waist to settle in closer. I’m feeling sleepy, and he’s so, socomfortable.
The still-functioning part of my brain tells me that I’m sick. I have a fever and it’s bad. I’ve been hallucinating fever dreams and dripping sweat into the bedsheets, desperate for relief.
The rest of my brain is still hallucinating. There’s no way Demyen actually cares enough to…
I don’t know what he’s doing. Or if he’s actually here. For all I know, this is all just part of some fucked-up fever dream and I’m in some dirty basement cell where he’s keeping me prisoner.
I won’t blame him. I deserve it.
Might as well make the most of this dream.
“Dem…”
“Hm?”
I’m able to pry my eyes open enough to see he’s texting someone on his phone. Attempting to read the tiny words on the bright screen only hurts my eyes, so I look away and just focus on the frosty shelf next to him. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He sounds like he’s only paying half-attention to me, if that. His phone buzzes in his hand. After a pause, he taps something else in response.
I sigh. It’s shaky and makes me wonder if my lungs are on fire, too. But the cold air feels good when I do it, so I won’t complain. “Everything.”
He pauses. Then lowers his phone. “Everything?”
I start to nod, but that makes me instantly dizzy. “Yeah.” The dreams from earlier come crashing back into my mind’s eye, making my head hurt more. And my chest. “I messed up. I messed up bad.”
Fuck. I don’t want to cry. My head hurts too much to cry, and I don’t want him to see my tears and think I’m weak or helpless or whatever loser-level names he’s probably made up for me.
Demyen doesn’t say anything. He just tosses the frozen peas aside and presses the backs of his fingers to my face. For the briefest of moments, it almost feels like he’s caressing my cheek.
I’mdefinitelyhallucinating.
He shifts me until I’m sitting against the shelves behind us, then stands and walks out of the freezer.
I knew it.
But then he’s back, clutching something in his hand, and he rummages through another section where there’s piles of boxes stacked neatly on top of each other. When he finds the one he’s looking for, he walks back over to me and sits back down.
I have no idea what he’s doing. I don’t even know if I care. My eyes drift close and I let my head rest against the icy shelf. It feels better than the hot pillow in my room. It’s nice and quiet in here, except for the rustling Demyen’s doing with whatever the hell?—
“Open.”
