Jared laughs, that deep rumbling sound. “You’re kidding.”
“Have a drawer full of…evidence. Neighbor’s boxers mostly.”
“Felix, you’re something else.”
His laugh makes me want to keep talking. And it’s not like my storytelling ability is at its peak right now. But when did someone last laugh at my stories like this? Not politely, but genuinely? Carlos usually checks his phone when I talk, or cuts me off to tell his own story.
“You actually listen,” I mumble.
“What’s that?”
“You ask…follow-up questions. Like you care about…the answers.” The words are getting harder, but this feels important. “Carlos never…he just waits for his turn to talk.”
“Well, Carlos sounds like he’s missing out.”
Something loosens in my chest that isn’t medical. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re excellent company, even half-conscious in a cave.”
I try to smile, but only half my face cooperates. “Low bar.”
“Higher than you’d think.” His thumb brushes across my knuckles—probably checking circulation, but it feels like comfort. “Tell me more about Patches. How old is she?”
“She’s…two. I got her at….” The words scatter.
“Felix?”
I’m drifting. The darkness pulls harder now, more insistent.
“Felix.”
“’M here.” But I’m not sure that’s true. Everything feels thin, like I’m dissolving at the edges.
“Stay with me. Why did you decide to get a cat?”
“Wanted something that would always be there.” Each word is work now. “Always something to cuddle.”
“I get that.” And his voice tells me he does.
My teeth are chattering again. When did that start? Time keeps jumping. One moment, Jared’s asking about what clubs I like to dance at. The next, he’s got both hands on my face, saying my name urgently.
“—need you to focus. Felix. Look at me.”
“Can’t see you. Dark.”
“I know. But stay with me. Squeeze my hand.”
I try. But my body isn’t all that cooperative.
“That’s it. Good.” But his voice has changed. Tighter. “They’ll be here soon.”
“Jared?” My voice sounds strange, distant.
“Right here.”
“Thank you for…listening.”
“Felix? FELIX!” Louder now. Something is pressing hard on my chest. His knuckles, maybe? “Come on, mate, open your eyes.”
