... and that he’d find him an apartment.
Shit.
Could Adathan think he was trying to get rid of him?
“I got you these,” William said, taking the new set of keys out of his pocket. “I figured: why wait? And got them done right away.” He held his hand out with a smile, the ladybug keychain dangling before Adathan’s eyes.
See? Not getting rid of you.
Adathan didn’t reach for them. He didn’t move at all.
“Your keys to our home,” William said, emphasizing the last two words.
Adathan kept staring at the keychain, his mouth opening slowly, but letting no sound out.
William’s smile grew heavy. How could he have said something wrong again? It made no sense. He was certain this had been a good move—it was the ultimate proof he wanted Adathan in his life.
Adathan smiled, looking as if he’d just snapped back to the present. “Thank you, William,” he said, yet he still didn’t take the keys.
William sat down and motioned for Adathan to do the same. “I see that you’re uncomfortable,” he said with a calm he didn’t feel. “It’s okay, you can be honest. You can always be honest. Is there something on your mind?”
Adathan sat, joining his hands on the table. He looked at William for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts before speaking in a measured voice, “I would rather... not possess keys.”
William nodded and stood up, ignoring his instincts to push back. “All right. They’re not yours; they’re mine.” He walked to the kitchen junk drawer and opened it. “But you’re allowed to use them whenever you want. As long as you put them back into this drawer when you’re done.” He felt like shit at the last part, but Adathan’s shoulders visibly relaxed, so his did as well.
“Thank you,” Adathan said, sounding like he meant it.
William dropped the keys and closed the drawer. It would take time to adjust to Adathan’s selective aversion to freedom, but he was determined to at least ensure Adathan never felt bad about it. None of this was his fault. “Are you hungry? I made Minestrone soup.”
Adathan beamed. “I am. Do you need help with anything?”
William was about to say no when his gaze fell on the notebooks on the table. “Not with the meal, but,” he said, nodding toward them. “I got us those as a starting point for our instruction manuals. Mine’s the black one. I, uh, already started filling it. If you wanna take a look and let me know what you think.”
“It will be my pleasure!”
William turned around as Adathan reached for his notebook, reminding his racing heart he had no reason to be nervous. It did little to slow his pulse. This whole thing made him feel a lot more vulnerable than he’d anticipated. Earlier, he’d even come close to throwing both notebooks in the trash—
“William is a man who spent most of his life seeking happiness where he couldn’t find it.”
William’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected Adathan to read italoud.
“Misguided by his desire for a life of luxury, he failed to see the freedom and privilege he already had,” Adathan continued, sounding as if he were reading a fascinating tale.
William grabbed two large bowls from the cupboard.
“Until recently, he was convinced he was selfish, but then he met someone special who made him realize how wrong he was.”
William suppressed a groan of embarrassment as he scooped piping hot soup into the bowls.
“He struggles to connect sometimes, but it’s not because he doesn’t care.”
William put a spoon in each bowl and placed them on the table.
“It’s because letting people in means risking disappointing them. Or worse, losing them.”
William sat down, not daring to look at Adathan, afraid of what he’d see written across his features.
“But life is a gamble. No matter what cards we’re dealt, the only way to win is to take chances. Even a pair of threes can change a life under the right circumstances.”
