“I don’t understand,” Jimmy fussed as Cold led him into the bathroom and began to peel him out of his pajamas.
“I’ve seen this happen before with others,” Cold said, his hands never losing contact with Jimmy’s skin for more than a few seconds. “I’ve always tried to make sure I take care of you.”
“But you always do,” Jimmy tearfully insisted. “It’s me. It’s got to be me. There’s something wrong with me. I’m, I’m fucked up.”
“It’s not you, Jimmy,” Cold said smoothly. “Even with the best of care, these things can happen. It’s not your fault. It’s mine for not realizing how strenuous these lessons could be for you while you’re also attending college.”
“But they were my idea,” Jimmy cried. “See? It’s still—”
Cold shushed him quietly, saying, “No, Jimmy. I’m supposed to take care of you. That’s my job.”
“Because you tell me what to do?”
“Because you’re the most important person in my life,” Cold replied passionately.
“Don’t you have to go to work?” Jimmy squeaked. He was unsure of how to respond to such a beautiful statement in the midst of his depression.
“No, and you’re not going to school,” Cold said firmly. He turned to switch the water off, a magnificent bubble bath now awaiting him. “I’m staying right here until you feel better.”
Jimmy nodded, shakily slipping down into the tub. He could smell lavender and something sweet, but he was not sure if it was from the bath or the candles Cold had lit. He breathed it in, letting the hot water work over his aching body as he stretched out.
Cold made a small adjustment to the speakers mounted within the bathroom wall, and David Bowie’s voice crooned softly as the soundtrack continued to play.
“Thought you didn’t like this record,” Jimmy said quietly, a small smile twitching at his lips.
“I didn’t like listening to it ten times a day and then hearing it in my sleep,” Cold drawled with a roll of his eyes, “but it makes you happy.”
“I’m sorry,” Jimmy began again, cringing when Cold looked annoyed. “I’m so sorry for being sorry, sir! I’m just—”
“No,” Cold cut in. “None of that, not right now. No ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Poe.’ Right now? We’re just Rod and Jimmy, okay?”
“Okay.” Jimmy looked up when he heard a knock at the bedroom door.
“One moment,” Cold said, leaning down to kiss Jimmy’s forehead and exiting the bathroom.
In his absence, Jimmy tried to relax. He had stopped crying at least, sinking down into the bubbles and humming along to the music. He had read about the potential for drop, but he had never actually imagined it could happen to him.
The sadness was suffocating, but some of the pain was fading now. He heard Cold coming back, his brows furrowing at another smell invading his nostrils.
He knew that smell, but it couldn’t be...
“Wendy’s?” Jimmy laughed, grinning at the fast food bag in Cold’s hand.
“Chicken nuggets and barbecue sauce,” Cold confirmed with a smile, kneeling down beside the tub. “Your favorite.”
“Thought you hated fast food because it’s garbage and probably made with Styrofoam?”
“I do hate it, it is garbage, but you like it,” Cold said, dipping a nugget and offering it to Jimmy’s lips.
Jimmy took the whole thing in one bite, and his spirits instantly felt brighter. “You really sent Jerry to Wendy’s for me?”
“Yes.” Cold dipped another nugget and brought it to Jimmy’s mouth.
Jimmy wanted to moan, his toes curling up at the wonderful taste. This was absolute heaven. The bath, the bubbles, the candles, his troubles draining away with the sweet sounds of David Bowie’s voice and the awesome flavors of Wendy’s chicken nuggets.
“I love you,” Jimmy said quietly once the bag of nuggets had vanished into his tummy.
Cold’s expression was strained, never quite able to respond with those words, but he took Jimmy’s hand as he assured him, “I will always take care of you, Jimmy. Always.”
