Shep had shown them, but not by growing up attractive. In sixth grade, the bullying had died for good along with any hope his family had of Shep growing up normal. In all fairness, the other child had started it. He just hadn’t expected to find Shep and Mac so eager to finish it. Two against one wasn’t a fair fight, but the boy was three years older than them. Shep wasn’t sure what had bothered his parents more, his lack of remorse, or that he’d dragged Mac—their good son—down into the gutter with him. The bully recovered eventually, but Shep’s parents never quite looked at him the same after that.
“Was that the only reason you were calling?” Shep asked, closing the book on that chapter of his childhood.
“I hate calling you Shep.”
Shep grinned. The boy spent so much time guarding himself, wore so many masks, but there he was, just blurting out the truth with no regard for Shep’s feelings. Maybe it was easier for him in the dark. “Alright. What do you want to call me?”
There was a long pause, the only noise the sound of Elijah’s breathing and the slight rustling of his covers each time he moved. “Can I call you Jayne?”
“If you like.”
Another pause. “Could I call you Jaynie?” he asked, hesitant like his rejection was imminent.
It seemed such a little thing to cause anxiety. People puzzled him. He really didn’t care what Elijah called him. “You can call me anything you like, rabbit. I’ll always answer.”
“You’re really weird,” Elijah said, but there was a lightness to his words.
Once again, that unfamiliar feeling bloomed in Shep’s chest. Elijah did that. He put that lightness there. “Yes. I got that from our conversation earlier. I’m a cyborg.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely part robot... but you’re much hotter than Schwarzenegger.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
There was a sudden inhale and then the sound of a muffled yawn. “I’m tired. I think I can go to sleep now. Night, Jayne.”
He liked the way his given name sounded on the boy’s lips. “Good night, Elijah.”
As soon as they disconnected, Shep rolled to his side and pulled up the cameras once more. Elijah was little more than a lump under the covers. Shep zoomed in on the boy’s face in the shadows, grateful for the night mode. He was curled on his side, one hand under his head and the other somewhere beneath the covers, but Shep only cared about the peaceful look on the boy’s face and the small smile playing at his lips.
Shep propped his phone against the lamp, Elijah’s feed running as he drifted to sleep. Before he slipped into unconsciousness, a single word popped into his head, making a home there.Mine.Elijah was his, he just was, and Shep would behave accordingly.
Elijah emerged from his bedroom just after dawn in jeans, a black Chanel sweatshirt, and a gray beanie. Shep was already in the kitchen in his usual uniform of faded denim and a vintage band t-shirt. Shep was so old he might have purchasedthem new, years ago. The thought amused Elijah.
When Shep noted his smile, something changed. Elijah couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was like the surrounding energy seemed to morph electrifying the air in the room like Shep was magic. The thought made him feel shivery and a little silly. Why did Shep have this effect on him?
Shep reached behind him and grabbed something from the counter, eyes still glued to Elijah. He thrust it towards him. Elijah frowned. It was a half-empty coffee cup.
“Isn’t that yours?” Elijah asked, confused why Shep was offering his own coffee when there was a whole pot behind him.
“It’s yours now,” Shep said, that same almost primal expression on his face like Shep was a lion presenting Elijah with his kill and he expected thanksfor his efforts. Elijah bit his lip until he tasted blood to keep from thinking too hard about all the ways he’d like to thank Jayne Shepherd.
Elijah hated black coffee, but he loved that Shep wanted him to havehiscoffee, so Elijah tipped the cup to his lips and drank it, humming his appreciation. “Thanks, Sam,” Elijah said, gazing up at him over the brim of his coffee cup.
Shep tilted his head in that way he did when something confused him, which only made Elijah’s reference funnier in his own mind.
“Sam?” Shep questioned, one brow hiking upward.
“Yeah, you know… from the old Merrie Melodies cartoons.” Shep frowned harder which only made Elijah giggle. “Bugs Bunny? Wile E. Coyote? Ralph Wolf? Wow. Nothing? Okay, so, Sam is a red-haired Sheep-dog. Get it… sheep… Shepherd? Red hair?”
His perplexed expression told Elijah he clearly didn’t understand. Maybe Shep really was a robot? No, a robot would have understood the reference. Shep had to be an alien. Asmoking hotalien.
Elijah opened YouTube, calling up an episode of the old cartoon before crossing the five steps to enter Shep’s space. He could have stood beside him, but he turned so his back pressed to Shep’s chest, pretending he didn’t feel the man tense behind him. He held his phone away from his body so they could both view the screen together.
He pressed play. The moment the music started, a heaviness settled in his chest. “I used to watch this with my grandpa all the time,” he said, hating the sudden sorrow in his voice. “He knew Chuck Jones,” he continued, but his enthusiasm rang hollow even to his ears.
Shep didn’t speak but seemed to contract around Elijah like somehow he could use his body to shield him from the melancholy trying to take root.
The cartoon started, a dog sat in an old car, his hair covering his eyes. Elijah laughed, but it caught in his chest as Shep hooked his head over Elijah’s shoulder as if to get a better view of the screen, his large hands gripping Elijah’s waist, pulling him back against him.
