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Theo watches the steady rise and fall of Liam’s chest. His lips are slightly parted, snoring quietly, lit only by the half moon outside. Its light cascades over Liam like some trophy light in a glass display case. Liam is a trophy. He’s Theo’s trophy. He’s the consolation prize Theo receives for destroying other people's lives in coping with his own miserability. Because Theo is selfish and he’ll take what he wants. And he wants Liam as long as he’ll let Theo keep him.
It’s pathetic really — the idea that Theo’s sat through body modifications completely still for almost a decade and his eyes should be an electric blue rather than the warm comforting golden-yellow that they are — and yet, now, his only fear is the stupid little beta laying in bed next to him. The first beta of a true alpha, the seventeen year old who drives the most battered down SUV Theo’s ever come across and can barely control his shift. Not Liam himself, just the idea of him having such a hard grasp on Theo. There are two animals running inside of him and both of them will follow Liam’s every order like a baby duck.
Theo tilts his head down, pressing his lips to Liam’s temple. He sighs contently, the faint scent of vanilla constantly simmering under his skin fizzling into something softer, citrus and rosemary. Theo pulls away from where he’s plastered to Liam’s side, his sweat-drenched shirt sticking to him (stupid wolves and their stupid body heat). He rolls himself out of bed and stretches before carefully leaving the room.
His stomach growls at the same time the tenth step creaks under his weight. Theo’s lips pull back into a thin line — making that face every white person makes when they see someone they don’t like in a grocery store but they wanna be nice — as his feet hit the floor in front of the final carpeted step. He walks into the kitchen, grimacing as his eyes adjust to the yellow-y light that definitely should have the bulb switched out.
It comes second nature, almost. Meandering around the small kitchen he now knows like the back of his hand, gathering ingredients and pans, already having a recipe in mind without realizing. The stove clicks a few times as Theo turns the front left burner on, the fire flickering to life in front of him. He places the pan over the burner, letting the butter melt around the bottom.
He lights the second bottom burner, staring at the blue part of the flame he can barely see from beneath the grate. It’s mesmerizing in a way. The outside of the flame is beautiful in some fucked up verse. The colors blend together like watercolor ( ironic, Theo thinks) as the flame hobbles on the stove. It’s warm and welcoming despite the danger of its touch.
It’s devastating, the way it burns similar to the pain in Theo’s ribs. Right in the spot where his heart should be and instead houses the last relic of his sister's very existence. Theo’s heart beats capriciously the longer he stares at the flame. It burns like it has a purpose. It serves as a heater for whatever home cooked meal the rest of the house will shovel down their throats before being shut off and frozen in time, only being relit when needed again.
He reaches out with his right hand, his palm hovering over the burner. The flame flutters slightly as Theo’s hand makes contact like it's the one being burnt. He keeps it there, holding as still as possible as he hears his skin bubble under the torrid warmth — heat. He keeps his palm pressed against the grate until the burning is too much and he pulls back. Too late, too slow.
He turns away, back facing the stove as he cradles his hand.
“ Shit. ” He hisses, watching his skin blister and seethe.
( Too late, too slow. )
He hears fabric bags hit the counter but he doesn’t process them in time until a voice is following, “Theo, did you just— burn yourself? ”
Theo lifts his head slowly, giving a very unconvincing: “ No. ”
Jenna laughs slightly, more to herself than Theo, “I have never once seen you burn yourself. I mean— you’ve cooked more gourmet meals in this kitchen than me and David combined. ”
Theo watches as the gears in Jenna’s brain start actually turning. Her simple constant smell of soup and petunias goes sour. Her shoulders drop slightly and her face falls loose, too devoid of emotion for Theo’s liking.
“You did it on purpose.” It can’t be an accusation if it’s true, really. Jenna’s quick to move away from the island separating the kitchen from the living room, grabbing Theo’s wrist and pulling him until they’re both in front of the sink. The cool water runs over Theo’s injured hand, “Theo, what the fuck?”
He tries to pull back but Jenna holds him in place, “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
“Like hell you are. Why would you do that, what were you thinking?” Jenna tries (and relatively fails) to be quiet as she freaks out.
“I don’t—” He pauses, the reality of that last five minutes finally settling in and taking home in the space in the back of his mind carved out only for overthinking, “I wasn’t thinking.”
Jenna sighs as she turns the faucet off, “Clearly.”
They move back over to the island, Jenna pushing Theo until he’s sitting down on one of the stools.
“I’m assuming you don’t want David looking at this, so I’m gonna go get the first aid kit. If I come back and you’re gone I will not hesitate to chase your ass back here.” Jenna threatens — a little too seriously because there was not a single skip in her heart beat — before going to the bathroom.
When she returns, she pulls up her own barstool so she and Theo are sitting knee to knee. She takes his hand and holds it in her lap, wrapping it gingerly. Too kind, too gentle.
“It’ll heal, you don’t need to be wrapping it.” Theo protests but doesn’t bother to try and pull away again.
“Not before the morning it won’t.” Theo watches Jenna make the same concentrated face she makes when she’s really determined to complete her task at hand. Once again, Theo is just someone’s task, someone's assignment. Someone's responsibility.
“You can’t tell him—”
“—He’s going to see it no matter what, Theo. It’s not healing that fast.”
The burning in Theo’s rib cage returns. Jenna must be able to feel the way he tenses under her touch. She swipes her thumb over his wrist, just below where the burn begins. Theo feels like a glass vase that was just shattered.
“Theo, it’s okay. Hey— Theo, look at me. ”
His eyes burn and his vision is blurry and suddenly breathing is the most painful thing ever but he lifts his head up anyways. The fingers on his left hand twitch against his thigh as he resists the urge to place it over his chest. Make sure the burning there isn’t real. That there is in fact still a beating heart in there and not a large gaping wound matching the one in his nightmares.
“Theo, relapsing happens. It’s normal. ” Jenna searches Theo’s watery eyes for a moment before continuing, like her next thought isn’t the same as the previous one, “ You’re normal. ”
Theo licks the back of his teeth, vaguely expecting the taste of blood or mercury to follow. Neither do.
His voice cracks when he tells Jenna he is, in fact, not normal in the slightest which does not help make his case. She sighs and releases his hand.
“I’ll put away whatever food you were trying to make,” She packs up the first-aid kit and puts her stool back, “you should go back to bed.”
He wants to tell her no. Tell her he’s still hungry, he isn’t tired, he wants to be nowhere near Liam at this very moment. But all he can do is nod blankly and excuse himself back up the stairs. When Theo crawls back into bed he puts as much space between him and Liam as he can with Liam laying dead smack in the middle of the mattress.
Theo wakes to Jenna and Liam yelling downstairs. He can’t quite pick up the words through his drowsiness but he can tell Liam’s heartbeat is way quicker than it should be. Theo closes his eyes and tries to focus on anything other than the fact that it’s his fault Liam is upset.
( “Liam, you can’t keep yelling. This isn’t anyone's fault.” Jenna tries to keep her tone soft, calming, grounding.
“Mom, I’m not just gonna pretend nothing’s wrong.”
“I didn’t say you had to, but this isn’t about either of us.”)
Theo can hear the way Jenna goes to place a hand over Liam’s arm but he growls subvocally and pulls back.
( “You’re going to scare him if you go back up there like this.” Jenna warns.
“He had a self-inflicted second fucking degree burn. If you think he’s scared right now, what do you think I’m feeling?”
“Again, I repeat, this is not about you. How do you think I felt watching it, huh? He doesn’t need anyone freaking out right now, especially not you. He just needs you to be there. ”
Liam sighs, raking his hands through his hair, “I know.”)
Theo hears Liam stomp up the stairs and down the hall until he stops in front of the bedroom door. He lets out a shallow breath before pushing the door open. Theo sits up finally, watching. He watches Liam pace around the room (picking papers from his desk and shoving them in his backpack, removing an empty water bottle and tossing it in the corner with the other crushed bottles, picking up hoodies and tossing them into the laundry basket in his closet).
“I love you.” Theo says quietly. I’m sorry he means.
Liam continues his pacing, reorganizing anything in his path.
Theo straightens up a little more, his voice only gets slightly louder, “Liam?”
When there is no response he repeats himself because he needs Liam to know, “ I love you .”
Liam sighs as he puts back the history book Theo gave him for Christmas right back on the shelf in the same spot he picked it up from. Both of them feel like they’re drowning in each other's sorrow. Liam moves to the side of the bed Theo is on, crawling on his knees as the mattress squeaks under his weight until he’s in Theo’s lap.
“Li-”
He stops when Liam's calloused hands cup both sides of his face, “I know, baby.”
He doesn’t know, Theo thinks, but he won't argue. He doesn’t want to make it worse. Whatever it is. If anything he wants to erase the last twenty-four hours if not the last eighteen years of his life. Liam’s thumbs run over the space beneath Theo’s eyes — they’re dark from the lack of sleep he’s gotten in the last two weeks — and suddenly Theo can’t fucking breathe.
“I know you do,” Liam repeats, “I love you too. I don’t doubt that you don’t love me just because you…”
He stops, looking down at the bandaged hand sitting between them. Liam takes a deep breath through his nose before re-meeting Theo’s (now teary) eyes.
“And I don’t not love you because I’m upset.” He must smell the guilt rotting beneath Theo’s skin before Theo can even smell it because he picks up his pace, “I’m not upset with you, Theo.”
He doesn’t trust himself to respond. His throat burns the same way his chest does and he knows if he tries to talk it's going to be incomprehensible. So he nods, plastering a very fake and very tired smile on.
Liam searches his eyes for a moment, frowning when he finds whatever he was looking for. He leans forward, dipping his head and burying it in the crook of Theo’s neck. He drops his hands down, choosing to wrap them tightly around Theo’s waist instead. Liam’s breath tickles against his neck.
He burrows deeper, like he’s trying to crawl under Theo’s skin and make a permanent home in his chest (like a fucking parasite ). He takes a deep breath, nosing up under Theo’s jaw and across his face — scenting him. It’s a common coping mechanism when Liam’s settling from outbursts. The disappointment Theo feels settles deep in his gut when he remembers it’s his fault Liam had an outburst to begin with.
“Though you were getting better.” Liam mumbles against Theo’s skin before pressing kisses wherever he can reach at his angle.
Theo finally brings his hands up out of his lap, loosely grabbing Liam’s hips, “M’never getting better.”
He feels Liam frown again — clearly not the response he wanted — but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Theo knows. He can read chemo-signals better than most anyone can, so he fucking feels the disappointment Liam is too tired to hide.
“I’m sorry.” Theo whispers.
Liam presses another kiss to Theo’s neck before relaxing slightly, “I know.”