Page 24 of Forever We Fall

Slowly, his cries taper. His breaths gradually get longer and deeper, and then spread so far apart I know he’s fallen asleep. He feels safe enough to fall asleep next to me. Again, an inappropriate smile tugs at my lips.

My fingertips tingle at the thought of running them through his ruffled hair. My chest swells at the thought of bracing his back to my front and holding him close. My something else does a little swelling, but I force my thoughts away from how perfect he looks curled up on my bed.

I won’t betray his trust. Not ever.

Instead, I watch over him as the gloomy day turns to night, as my stomach growls, and the hours pass by. Somewhere along the way, I curl onto my side, tuck my arm under my head, and fight to keep my eyes open. It’s a futile effort.

When I wake, the overhead light is off, I’m snuggled under my comforter, and early morning light pours through my window. I flop onto my back and look down at my bed.

It’s empty.

I fight the disappointment that threatens to keep me tucked under these covers all weekend long. After all, what did I expect from a guy who has no one? Did I think I would be his compatriot because he cried himself to sleep in my bed?

The guy has hated me for the past twelve weeks.

He just needed a bit of relief. Now that he’s found it, he can go back to hating me.

It’s fine.

I groan, not believing myself.

Then I notice the bathroom door is open. Like way open. Like when he was in my room, and it was open for his escape, open. The door hasn’t been open unless I’ve been going in or out of it. Not for weeks. Not since he got here.

I stare at it as though one of the forty-seven portals from theGreat Japanese Coastal Mapopened in my room. As thoughLight Yagami, acting as Kira, will pop out of it at any moment. The longer I stare, the longer nothing happens, except my ballooning curiosity reaching bursting levels.

Throwing the cover back, I stretch. I grimace at the stupid uniform I’m still wearing. Jacket and all. With a disdaining shrug, I shuck it, toss it onto the cushy chair in the corner of my room, and then head for the bathroom.

My foot catches on something, and I trip over my fucking shoes like an infant who barely knows how to walk.

Baka!

I plow my hands through my hair and march toward the open door, mentally preparing myself for the door on the other side, the one to Arlo’s room, to be shut tight and telling myself not to care when it happens.

Then I reach the opening and reel back a step. The realm of another world is open and waiting for me. Using my knuckles, I wipe the sleep from my eyes, then look once more. It’s still open.

With tentative steps, I walk through the gateway.

My very own Guts fromBerserk, the most tragically written hero from one of my favorite dark anime series, sits at his desk. He’s leaned over, writing like he’s on a deadline. Line after line pours out of him while I stand there in total shock.

He’s wearing a pair of school-issued navy trousers, though it’s not a school day, and a school-issued white T-shirt that pulls taut across the impressive V of his back.

“Morning,” I whisper when there’s a lull in his impressive pen strokes.

Arlo draws a deep breath that expands his considerable width, lets it out, and then turns to face me. The tiniest hint of a smile frames his lips. It’s not a smile really. But it’s not a frown or a scowl, and that’s progress.

His hair is neatly combed, but its length is so grown out over his ears that it looks roguish.

“Do you always sleep this late on the weekends?”

His voice is raspier this morning. I wonder if it’s from the crying he did. His words make me remember that I don’t usually see him over the weekends. He keeps to himself in his room, except for a couple of weeks ago.

“Not usually.” My gaze flits to his clock radio. 10:20. “Not that it’s afternoon or anything.”

“No, but…” He hesitates, and I’m greedy for the words he won’t say.

“Yes?”

His lips do a little dance swishing together from one side of his face to the other. It’s fucking cute.

---