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He pushes her hair from her face, saying things that don’t sound like words. Just a steady stream of panicked nonsense.

Behind him, Graham ambles over, entirely unhurried, completely unbothered.

He takes one look at the workstation, then at the spilled vial, and lets out a low laugh. “She chloroformed herself,” he says, already turning on the vents and recovering the station.

Theo glares up at him. “This is not fucking funny.” His voice cracks halfway through the sentence, and he hates that it does. He turns back to her, tapping her cheek lightly. “Lila. Come on. Wake up.”

She stirs—barely—but it’s enough to keep him from losing his mind. He exhales, slow and shaky, and pulls her body closer to his than he probably should.

Of course she would do this. Only Lila could turn him inside out and still make him huff a small laugh under his breath.

She’s unconscious, and somehow he still feels outmatched.

He doesn’t say her name again yet, but it’s there anyway—sitting heavy in his chest, right where it’s been for months.

He’s going to put her in a bubble. He’s never letting her out of his sight again.

He’ll handcuff her to himself if he has to. It sounds insane, even in his own head, but right now, sanity isn’t exactly the priority.

He just wants her awake, upright, and arguing with him again.

“You are so very fucked, my friend.” Graham claps him on the shoulder before walking back to the front of the lab.

Theo doesn’t bother looking up, because he knows Graham is right.

He really and truly is.

He didn’t mean to fall for her, but looking at her now, he can’t remember ever having had a choice in the matter.

It feels inevitable, the way gravity is inevitable. Constant and inescapable.

He just wishes he knew things would still be okay once all of this is over. That she’ll still be here. That whatever comes next doesn’t undo them.

If there even is a them.

He stays there, watching her breathe, hoping that for once, the evidence points them to something that ends with him keeping her. If she wants him.

So, so fucked.

Lila

I hear my name—distorted, panicked, and very close.

I come to with my face mashed into Theo’s chest and his big hand gripping my face.

His hold is firm, but not rough. His eyes move from my eyes to my nose to my mouth, like he’s trying to make sure every part of me is still attached.

I blink up at him, vision still fuzzy, and catch the look in his eyes.

Wide. Wild.

He’s definitely about three seconds away from throwing me over his shoulder and sprinting to the ER. Probably on foot.

“Oh my god,” he says, “you absolute menace. Wake up.”

Everything is cotton-soft and weirdly cozy.

“Huh,” I murmur. “You have pretty eyes.”