I frown. “No. Do you regret me?”
A soft, sad laugh escapes him and he shakes his head slowly. “No, I don’t. I regret breaking us by being… me. By being who I am and showing you the depth of all… that.”
My heart aches as he stands beside me, his head clearly muddled and thoughts still no clearer today than they were when he showed up at my place last night. “I regret that you did those things, but I don’t regret you, Shiloh. I wouldn’t trade you away for anything.”
“You could lose everything,” he murmurs, looking down and away from me like eye contact is too much.
“Only if you don’t be who I see when I look at you, California. Only if you let yourself become the monster you could be. The Shiloh I love wouldn’t let that happen.”
He goes still, then looks me right in the eyes as if he needs to see the truth written in them, and I know he’ll find it. “You love me back?”
“I love you back, Shiloh.”
“Oh,” he breathes, deflating a bit where he stands like he’s relieved. “I said it, but I… you don’t have to love me, Donovan. I understand if you can’t. Just having you with me is enough.”
I snort a laugh, reaching forward and grabbing his upper arms. I pull him into my chest and wrap my arms around him, holding him tight, and for once, he lets me. Shiloh lets me take him and hold him without hesitation. “I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried, Shiloh.”
He hums under his breath like he isn’t sure he believes me, or maybe he just isn’t sure of his worth to me, and I’ve had enough. I let him go, then turn toward the living room and make a quick decision. The easiest decision I’ve made lately, aside from giving him my heart. I reach out and grab both our coffee mugs, heading for the couch. Shiloh trails behind me, confusion and sadness lingering on him like a blanket.
I flop onto the couch and grab a blanket, opening my arms and gesturing for him to come and sit with me. Shiloh settles onto the very edge of the couch like he’s uncertain, and I sigh, grabbing him and pulling him into my side. He nestles in and I smile, covering us both with the blanket before turning on the TV. I scroll through streaming platforms until I find one that will work.
“What’s this?” Shiloh asks, as I click play on the title screen for the movie I’ve chosen.
“Godzilla versus Mothra,” I reply, putting the remote down and settling into the movie. Shiloh doesn’t respond, but he pulls the edge of the blanket up, and when I glance over, his eyes are hooked on the TV screen. The movie plays and I get lost in memories of watching these with my mom in the years before she died. “In my mind, my mom is my Mothra.”
“Your mom is a giant moth monster?” Shiloh says, with a soft laugh.
“She’s my Mothra. My protector. She always was. No matter how shitty things got, she was there to remind me there’s still good in this world and that good things are worth protecting. It’s cheesy, I know, but it is what it is. I can’t think of her withoutthinking of these movies and what they meant to a young kid growing up in a small town, trying to become a hockey star.”
“It’s not cheesy.” I shoot him a look and he offers a small smile. “Okay, it’s kind of cheesy, but… I’m glad you had that.”
“Do you have things?” I ask, hoping this isn’t the moment he tenses up and fails to let me in once more. It’s been a lot of sharing over these past few nights, and I’m preparing myself for Shiloh to retreat into his comfort zone of keeping me out of everything about his life and his past, but I hope he doesn’t. I hope he tries, even though right now he’s silent, his eyes glued to the TV as my question hangs in the air between us.
“Macaroni and cheese,” he finally whispers.
“Like Kraft Dinner? KD?”
“What the fuck is KD?”
I laugh at the incredulous look on his face, happy he’s behaving a bit more like himself again. “A Canadian classic. Kraft Dinner from the blue box is a staple food up in the great white north. We just call it KD up there.”
“Kraft macaroni and cheese,” he corrects, his voice soft. “My mom made it all the time for me, and whenever I think of her, I think of macaroni and cheese.”
On the screen, Godzilla emerges from deep within a pit of mud and the poor citizens of Japan flee in terror as he begins his campaign of destruction. We watch the rest of the movie in silence until the credits roll and the alarm starts going off on my phone, startling Shiloh.
“Time to get out of bed,” I offer, fumbling for my phone to turn the alarm off.
“I woke you up early,” he comments, as if he’s just now realizing the time.
“It’s okay. I can handle getting up early every now and then.” I regret what I have to say next with every fiber of my being, but it needs to be said. “I have practice in an hour.”
“Oh.”
“Do you have class? Healing Hearts?” Something so I know you’re not alone sinking into misery?
He shakes his head. “No. Nothing today.”
“Stay here,” I demand, wincing at my tone. “I mean, if you want to. Stay here. Watch Godzilla movies. Or anything else if you hated that one. Just… stay.” Shiloh turns his head up to me, and I lean forward to press my lips against his cool, smooth forehead. “Stay?”
