"You're collecting broken people," he says. To the ceiling.
"Mmmhmm," I say.
"That's all you've got?"
"What do you want me to say, Leo."
He's quiet for a moment.
"I need you to tell me where I fit," he says. "In this thing you're building."
I look at him. He's still looking at the ceiling.
"You were first," I say.
"I know I was first." He says it without satisfaction. "First doesn't mean anything if the pack fills up around me and I end up being the one who's just — always been there. Background. Furniture."
"Leo."
"I'm not upset." He says it in the tone of someone who is upset. "I'm asking a genuine question. Jake is broken in a specific way. Jim is broken in a specific way. Gray is broken in a specific way. RJ is—" He stops. "RJ is RJ. And you go toward all of them like you know exactly what they need. Like you can see the shape of the damage and you know where to put your hands."
He turns his head and looks at me.
"I don't know what you see when you look at me," he says. "I'm not sure I want to know. But I also — I need to know I'm not just the one who opens doors and creates distractions and makes you laugh when things are terrible."
I sit on the edge of the bed.
"You're the one who pays attention," I say. "When everyone else is focused on their own damage you're watching the whole room. You knew Jake needed twenty minutes to talk himself into knocking. You knew Jim before anyone told you anything about him. You knew I needed to go to the fence before I'd admitted it to myself."
He watches me.
"You're not furniture," I say. "You're the reason any of this works."
Something shifts in his face. He doesn't move. His eyes do something.
"That's not very sexy," he says.
"I'm getting there."
"Are you."
"Leo." I put my hand on his chest. "You're the one I trust to see clearly. You always have my back. Trust is really hard for me."
He looks at my hand on his chest. Then at my face.
"I don't know where I fit with them," he says." Jake barely tolerates me. Jim finds me — " A pause. "Jim finds me interesting, I think."
"That's just Jim."
"I know. That doesn't make it less unsettling." His hand comes up and covers mine on his chest. "I'm working on it."
"I know you are."
We look at each other. The bond between us is warm and even, the thing it's always been — Leo's frequency, sharp-bright and familiar.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says. Flat. Like it cost him something to say it plainly instead of sideways. "I need you to know that."
"Oh Leo."
