But he wasn’t. And he didn’t. And none of it made sense.
The knots inhis stomach had nothing to do with last night’s acid. He wasn’t even that high anymore. The dull hum behind his eyes was manageable. The panic, though—that was all him. All flesh and nerves and a brain that didn’t work quite right.
Noah, of course, was eating like everything was fine. Like sitting three feet from a silent, emotional breakdown was part of the morning routine. He was oblivious. He didn’t know what it meant to let someone stay. How long it took Theo to claw himself back together after Jagger cracked him open and acted likehe was the one overreacting.How utterly fuckingstupidhe’d felt.
Theo couldn’t do that again.
Hewouldn’t.
He stared down at his plate. Half-eaten eggs. Cold now. He didn’t remember chewing.
His foot twitched under Noah’s. He didn’t pull away.
He should have. He should’ve ruined it before Noah got the chance. Before he ripped off the drywall and saw the mold. Before he realized Theo wasn’t anything worth staying for.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he sat there, fork loose in his hand, heart punching against his ribs like it was trying to get the hell out of his body.
He wasn’t breathing right. Too shallow, too loud in his own ears. His tongue sat dry and heavy in his mouth. He reached for his coffeejust to dosomethingwith his hands, but the mug clinked against the wood when he set it down, and the sound cut straight through his skull.
Noah didn’t look up from his phone. Still texting someone. Stillfine.
Theo cleared his throat. Sat up straighter. He didn’t know what his face looked like, but he was trying for neutral. Detached enough that it wouldn’t bleed if Noah leaned in too close.
“Hey, I think maybe you should—”
Noah glanced up. Bright-eyed. Hopeful. “Do you have plans later? ‘Cause if not—baby, I scored us somethinghellafun.”
There was no defense for it. Not that look. Like he was already halfway to giving Theo everything and didn’t even realize it.
Theo swallowed sand. “Noah—”
“C’mon. Just say yes.”
“I need space,” Theo said flatly. It came out of his mouth all at once, and he had no idea how to take it back or smooth it over.
Noah’s expression shifted like someone had dunked him in ice water. His hand slowly lowered, the phone going dark in his palm.
“What?” he asked after a minute, voice barely above a whisper. “I make you breakfast and you… you need space? I don’t…”
He trailed off. The kitchen clock ticked behind him. Noah’s gray eyes locked on Theo’s like he was trying to see through him—past the brittle shell, into the rotting, splintered mess inside.
Theo couldn’t hold his gaze.
Couldn’t hold ontohim.
Don’t look there. You won’t like what you find.
I’m too fucked up.
“I need you to leave,” Theo said. His voice cracked so hard it felt like it cut his throat on the way out.
Noah didn’t move. Didn’t shout. Just stared at him like the walls were caving in and he didn’t know how to brace for it. The kind of silence that should’ve come with sirens.
“Did I do something?” he asked finally, careful in that way that made Theo want to crawl out of his skin.
Yes.