The bathroom door creaked shut and a moment later the water started running. I returned to my room to rummage through the closet. Old dress shirts I never wore, sweaters that were twice Liam’s size, and pants I didn’t even remember existed. I sighed.
Then out of the corner of my eye I spotted an old plastic storage container. I kneeled and pulled it out, coughing out the dust. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d opened this thing, but I knew all my old college and high school clothes were crammed in it. Sure enough, I pulled out a shirt and pair of pyjama pants I wore in 9thgrade. They werestilltoo big for Liam, but they would have to do.
I laid the clothes out on the couch and stared at them with a strange sense of nostalgia. Suddenly sadness flowed through me, like blood from a re-opened wound.
I used to lay outhisclothes for him this way.
A dark cloud fell over my mind. Bitterness and grief clawed at my chest. I trudged to the kitchen and poured a drink, downing it in one go. The alcohol stung my throat, but at least it distracted me from my thoughts. I was about to pour another shot before I stopped myself. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and exhaled. I didn’t want to fall into my old habits. I couldn't.
Without looking I thrust the alcohol back into the fridge and put the dirty cup in the sink, twisted the tap and let hot water soak it through.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and forced myself to stay grounded. I had to think about Liam.
Right. Liam.
Beyond the wall, the tap squeaked and the rushing water stopped. A moment later the bathroom door opened and a sopping wet-haired Liam stepped out in slippers and a bathrobe that was almost three times his size.
Instantly I doubled over with laughter, slapping my thigh. Liam’s face turned red. “W-what?” he squealed. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” I finally said. “Did you see yourself in the mirror?”
“No, it was fogged up,” he said. He ran back inside, and rubbed the mist from the mirror, then I heard his gentle laughter floating down the hall. He came back with a huge grin on his face. I noticed his eyes were brighter now, and his skin was healthy and pink with all the dirt and ash washed off. “I do look pretty ridiculous.”
I gestured to the couch where I had laid out the clothes. “I found some of my old high school stuff that might fit you.”
Liam held the oversized robe to his chest with one hand and picked up the shirt with the other.
“I know it’s still too big,” I admitted. “But at least it’s better than the robe.”
“I think anything would be better than this,” he said, hiking it up again.
Liam took the clothes and went to change. I couldn’t help but stare at the way his hips moved, even underneath the robe. When I realized what I was doing, I shook my head.
5
Liam
Even if itwas on a couch, I never slept so comfortably in recent memory. I had always been a heavy sleeper, which was probably the reason I was stuck in the fire, but being fed, washed and having a warm place to sleep made me realize how exhausted I really was. I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow Victor had provided.
I think I dreamt of him, but my mind was so deep in a restful haze that it was hard to tell if anything was really happening. So when Victor’s pager went off and his cursing broke the apartment’s silence, I was surprised I woke up at all.
At first it was the blaring repetitive beeping that made me stir. I mumbled and tried to open my sleep-heavy eyes, and through the blackness only saw a soft light coming from Victor’s room. Then there was the shuffling of socks across the laminate. Finally the light turned off and Victor thundered down the hall, his hair mussed up and his clothing picked at random.
“What’s happenin’?” I murmured, half my words muffled by the pillow.
“Got paged,” Victor grunted, shoving his arm into a jacket. “Structure fire. I’ll be back later. Don’t go anywhere.”
I groaned in response, barely understanding his words. “Okay.”
The door slammed. Victor left.
In my sleepy haze, I slid off the couch and got to my feet. I figured I might as well use the bathroom while I’m awake. All the orange juice I drank last night caught up to me.
After I washed my hands, I staggered into the hall. My bleary eyes blinked against the gentle light coming from Victor’s room. I trudged toward it.I should turn it off.
With effort, I raised my arm – which I noticed felt heavy and sluggish, probably from all the exertion yesterday – and switched it off. As darkness swallowed up the room once more, the strength went out in my knees. I didn’t have enough energy to go all the way back to the couch. Sighing, I gave up and collapsed on Victor’s bed.
My eyes closed, I grasped around for the comforter and pulled it lazily over myself. The mattress was even softer and more comfortable than the couch cushions. I sighed into pillow, which smelled sharp and smoky and sweet. Victor’s scent.
