Wren swallowed heavily and nodded, watching Teddy turn the car on and pull out of the dark alley, driving them back home in complete silence.
He watched him the whole way.
The way his brows pinched in the middle, the way those laugh lines around his eyes were almost completely smoothed. The way the corners of his lips sagged and his usually golden skin looked sallow and pale.
He hated it.
And it ate away at him that he had been the one to do it. He’d risked the safety Teddy had worked so hard to achieve. Stomped all over it.
They parked in front of the house and Teddy silently began unloading the animals. Wren followed, slow and pained because for the first time since he had met Teddy he felt like he wasn’t really wanted near him.
And yet he couldn’t leave. The space between them hurt more than ever, and he resolved to just stay close until Teddy explicitly told him not to.
After the animals were situated in the living room ready for Bianca, Wren followed him through the eerily empty house, up the stairs to his room, closing the door behind him and staring at Teddy’s back as it rose and fell with heavy breaths.
He ached.
For hurting him. For failing him. For not being enough to help.
“Teddy.” He called out to him quietly, voice shaky and unsure. He waited for Teddy to turn toward him, eyes wide and lips pinched.
“I’m okay.”
Teddy tried to smile, but Wren felt it like a dagger to the heart. Because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t the genuine, lovely, sunshine smile he had loved for most of his life.
“You aren’t okay,” Wren said. “I fucked up and I’m so sorry.”
“Wren…”
“No.” Wren shook his head. “You don’t have to protect me anymore. Not all the time. I’m an adult now and I can face my mistakes. Even if they make you hate me.”
“Fuck, Wren,” Teddy burst out, walking closer until they were standing face-to-face. “I don’t hate you. I don’t think my heart would even know how. I just…”
“You’re scared,” Wren whispered, finally realizing it fully. “And I made it worse.”
Teddy huffed and looked away, blinking away and breaking Wren’s heart because he could see a tear rolling down his cheek even though he tried to hide it. He lifted his hand and cupped Teddy’s cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb.
“I am sorry,” Wren said. “I am really and truly sorry.”
“See,” Teddy said, a smile that felt a bit more real brushing against his lips, “I don’t think you are.”
“I—”
“And I don’t think you should be. Rationally, I know finally standing up to him is the right thing to do. I have some leveragenow. The adult side of me knows his hold on me isn’t what it was when I was a trainee.”
“But?”
“But the child in me is still terrified of what he can do,” Teddy whispered. “And I am that child. I have been for years, and the scars are still there. The broken bits of me are still me, Wren, and I am barely holding them together as it is. He will shatter them if I fight back. He is whole. And attacking fragments with a whole never ends well.”
“I want to help,” Wren whispered. “Please, let me help.”
“You can’t. You don’t know…”
“Then tell me!” Wren said, louder than he intended to with how fragile Teddy was, but the years of being kept in the dark were catching up. He wanted to fix things, but he couldn’t without knowing what was there to fix. “Let me in.”
Teddy shook his head, stepping away from him and breaking his heart in the process. “I can’t.”
“Why are you shutting me out?” Wren asked, and he knew he was being unfair. He knew like he knew his own animals that Teddy cared for him. That he didn’t want to leave him. That he didn’t want to keep things from him. The shame he could feel radiating from Teddy said more than words. But he couldn’t help but beat against the invisible wall, wanting to tumble it to the ground.
