Page 16 of The Naked Cleaner

“It’s okay. I’m sorry Jonas couldn’t come, but I’m here now, and I will stay with you. Have you taken anything? I need to know when you last took anything, Pontus. Pontus?”

“Threw it up.” He sniffles. “Two of the green pills. Couldn’t keep them down.”

“Okay.” I say softly, my fingers awkwardly stroking his head. His sodden hair all over the pillow leaving a wet outline around his head as I tug the duvet up over him. He looks small. Tiny.

I find his pills and sort him out, holding the glass to his mouth so he can get his meds down. He looks really scared, and it breaks my heart.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“No probs. Just try to sleep.”

“Stay?” His hand grabs mine and my stupid heart melts again. “I hate it. I hate when I get like this, and I get really scared. I don’t handle stress well, and when things overwhelm me, I get all wound up and then I get migraines. It feels like I am about to die and my heart races and I just. I’m a mess. I just need…” He stutters a bit, trying to get the words out as his eyes are squinting into the soft hallway light.

“Just relax. Do you want a cold towel on your forehead? That sometimes helps?” Nurse Louis is in full swing. Right down to the hand holding and the reassuring soft voice.

“Don’t want to be alone.” He whispers. Almost like he is ashamed.

“Look. “ I sigh. “We both know that there is nothing going on between us. We both know that we don’t need to impress each other or try to put on a façade. And finally, you are just as much of a mess as I am. And as I said earlier, before you chucked me out…”

Yeah. I have to get that one in, because I am not a nice nurse.“We are friends. Okay? And right now, I am here to look after you, and I will stay and make sure you are okay. So just chill. I don’t judge. Just like you don’t judge me. So, cold towel? You want one? For your forehead?”

“Weirdo.” He huffs out, and fuck me sideways. There is a little smirk on his lips. I can see it, right there below a stray tear that is making a slow descent down his cheek.

I swipe it off with my thumb.

“Emotionally stunted asswipe.” I say back. Because, believe me. I am the ultimate weirdo.

“Twatface.” He retaliates, snorting softly as the back of his hand tries to wipe his nose.

“Muppet.” Yes, yours truly is running out of slurs. In my defence it’s about six in the morning and I am exhausted already. Even though I am clean and smell slightly of pineapple shower gel. I make a mental note to buy some decent shower gel and place it strategically in his shower. He’s never going to get laid smelling of chemical fruit.

“No cold towel then, I assume. Look, I’m going to go clean up your bathroom, and dump your towel in the bins outside. I’ll be on the sofa. Just shout if you need me. Okay?”

“Stay, just stay here for a little while. Please.” His voice is so sad, that I just nod, and my whole body recoils at myself. Because, yeah. I’m an idiot.

But for some strange reason, I know what it’s like to be sick and small. I know that my mum used to wrap a blanket around me and hold me. Just keeping me warm and safe until I felt better. She used to hum little songs in Spanish, making up silly translations with Danish words to make me laugh.

And I am an idiot. Fuck that. I’mme. Take it or leave it. So, I curl my naked body around his. Then I get up and get under the duvet, because it’s bloody cold, and I’m all prickles and goose bumps.

“Don’t get any ideas. I’m just here for comfort and warmth, and to make you feel better.” I huff out as I get comfortable and wrap my arms around him, pressing his back into my chest.

He fits. He fits like a fucking glove, and my nose rubs against his neck and my mouth fills with wet hair and there is bloody pineapple everywhere and his fingers curl up in my grip.

Fucking hell.

I’m a little shocked at myself. That I did this. I’ll regret it later when he wakes up and beats the shit out of me, but for now? Fuck cleaning up his bathroom. Fuck going home. I’m kind of fine, right here. Warm. Nice.

His breathing is a bit hitched, but it calms down. Deep breaths as I find a little space on his back where my chin rests against his skin.

I try to think of a song to hum to him, but all that comes to mind is some rap tune. I’m not doing that. I may think I can rap in the shower, but I am not going to go there.

“There once was this dude called Pontus.” I start.

“Shut up.” He whispers. Which of course spurs me on.

“Who was some kind of computer doofus.”

“That doesn’t rhyme, Louis.”

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