I’m far too afraid to fall asleep, so I hold him for hours instead.
WhenTheofinallystirsjust before 3:00 a.m., he exhales a long, slow breath against my throat, then shifts backward until his face is turned toward mine.
He’s avoiding eye contact, but that’s alright.
“Hey,” I whisper, my throat croaky from not using it for so long. “Are you okay?”
“I’m here.” His voice is a low monotone, more devoid of emotion than I’ve ever heard it.
On instinct, I reach up, cupping his face in my palm. His eyes fall closed, and he leans into it. He’s touch-starved, I think.Lonely.The word floats around in my head from weeks ago, when he was telling me what it was like to live in the city.
“You’re here.” I want to ask why. I want to ask why he changed his mind, why he came here, and why he didn’t call. So many questions. So many whys, and not a single one of them needs to be answered right now. “Are you hungry?”
He gives me a weak nod but doesn’t open his eyes. “Yes.”
“Let me go make you something to eat.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispers.
I let my thumb brush along his cheekbone, my stomach fluttering wildly that he’s here and letting me touch him. If I wasn’t still so worried, I think I’d be collapsing under the relief of it. “I’m just gonna run to the kitchen and grab some snacks, and I’ll be right back.”
He studies my face, eyes roaming slowly, almost like he’s searching for a lie. “Okay,” he finally whispers.
I’m not sure I’ve ever run downstairs so quickly in my life. Within five minutes, I’m back in my bedroom with two bottles of water, a box of cereal, a handful of snack packs of cookies, and some beef jerky. It’s quite the spread, but I wanted quick and easy and a bit of variety.
Tomorrow, I’ll make him a real meal. For tonight, I just need to get something in his stomach.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?” I ask as I set everything out on the bed.
He shakes his head, then eyes what I’ve brought in.
“Alright. I’ve got cereal—Lucky Charms, my favorite—beef jerky, and some cookies. Pick your poison.”
I help him sit up, propping pillows behind his back. My bedframe is an antique with a wrought iron headboard, and while it’s gorgeous, it’s not very comfortable to rest against.
He points wordlessly to the cereal, and I grab it, climbing into the bed and settling cross-legged with our knees inches from touching.
After opening the box, I gesture to him. “Hold your hand out.”
He does, and I shake a small handful of cereal into his palm. Instead of eating it, though, he just stares at it.
“What’s your percentage, Theo?” I ask as softly and kindly as I can manage.
His eyes well up, and when he blinks, tears spill over his dark lashes onto his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I kinda feel like I don’t have one at all.”
Theo’s eyes fall to my hand when I reach out slowly, cupping the bottom of his, and rest it on my knee. When I pick up a piece of cereal and hold it out to him, confusion clouds his eyes. “You open, I’ll feed, yeah?”
His jaw drops open, and I place the cereal on his tongue. I watch him while he chews, and when he’s done, he opens his mouth again. I fight a smile as I give him another piece.
When he’s eaten the palmful of cereal, I open a bottle of water and lean forward to help him take a drink. He drinks like he’s been parched for days. It could rival even Lila draining her bottle, the sides of the plastic collapsing with how quickly he’s drinking it.
If he hasn’t had water in a while, though, it’s probably best not to let him get too much at once. “Easy,” I whisper. “Not too much too fast.”
He stops drinking, and I pull the bottle back. “More food?”
“Please,” he croaks out.
“Do you like beef jerky?” I ask, reaching for it. It’s not exactly thebestform of protein, but it’s better than nothing, and it was quick enough to grab.
