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Theo’s pretty sure his life’s purpose is being a personal chauffeur for Liam Dunbar. He’s driving him back from practice, the sun setting over Beacon Hills. The colors melt together, fading into one another in a way that mesmerizes him. He can’t help but stare at the light peaking through the clouds as he drives. Can’t help but wonder if he could have been enjoying this time with someone else, if things could have been different. If he could have had his family to enjoy this with, instead of Liam. Instead of the boy he had ruined, just for Liam to be liable for putting the both of them back together. The boy who had brought him back on the off chance he could have been helpful, the boy who took full responsibility for any and all actions Theo took.
He wonders how easily Liam could have sent him back. If he’d be able to stomach the thought, or if he’d be dragged back down kicking and screaming before Liam had gotten so much as attached. He wonders if Liam would have actually been punished for any of the choices Theo made after the prison, or if he’d get off with a warning and a stern talking to.
He wonders if Liam ever regretted his mistake.
Theo almost asks, barely catching the question behind his lips before it slips out. His teeth click together with an audible snap as he forces his mouth shut again. Unfortunately for him, Liam had noticed and was looking at Theo with an expression halfway curiosity and tranquility.
“What’re you thinking about?” Liam asks lazily, staring at Theo.
His face must do something then, because Liam is scrambling to cover his tracks at the thought of making him even the slightest bit uncomfortable. He opens and closes his mouth a few times - in a way that’d be endearing if he didn’t look so nervous.
“You don’t have to answer that. It was just too quiet.”
Theo hums, feigning indifference.
He wants to answer it. He wants and wants, wants Liam, wants a home, wants a family.
More than anything, he wants them to understand. The complexities of his childhood he keeps buried so far down, covered by rotten wood and damp soil. His life, his sister, his parents, the house they grew up in, everything before the doctors.
Maybe, just maybe, everything after.
He feels selfish - maybe a little sick - for even thinking it. The thought of someone else going through the same cold, cruel childhood he had is too much for him to handle. But Theo doesn’t have anyone who truly understands the way this hypothetical person - child - would. He can’t explain the cruelties to Liam or Mason or Corey because they won’t get it the way he needs. There isn’t anyone left, not the way he is. He’s been cut up and put back together too many times to be someone who can be understood, not quite human enough for people to hear him in the ways that matter.
He stays quiet.
The drive to the Geyer’s is silent now, Liam biting his tongue to avoid upsetting Theo. He knows that he should say something, break the silence before Liam is too deep, stewing in his own guilt. But Theo can’t find the words.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Liam tentatively states - almost as if he’d been debating the question the whole ride - as they pull into his driveway.
Liam treats him carefully, gently. Like he’s a chipped cup glued back together again and again until it can’t hold anything. He supposes he is. His flesh has been glued together repeatedly, and he isn’t sure what he can hold anymore, if anything at all.
Theo looks over at him, studying every inch of his face. The small scar near his eyebrow he got from running into a table as a child, the beauty mark on his cheek, the overgrown strands of hair falling over his eyes like a weeping willow.
He nods, smiling as much as he can muster.
The smell of a home-cooked dinner assaults him as soon as they walk through the door. She had cooked chicken in some sort of lemon marinade, asparagus, mashed potatoes and fresh rolls. It hurts Theo, aching in his chest. Mrs. Geyer is one of the kindest people Theo can remember talking to. She makes him think of his mom, gentle touches and kind smiles. Someone who could tend to his wounds, who could protect him from the monsters under his bed. There’s a lump in his throat as he chokes out a polite hello before being dragged up to Liam’s bedroom.
He knows something’s up, Theo can tell. Liam’s treading carefully, picking out his words delicately before he says them. But Theo stays quiet, only speaking when he has to. He’s scared that if he gets started, everything will spill out of him. The dam inside will break and the water will flood the town, destroying everything in its path with a sick sort of remorse.
Liam’s studying him, Theo abruptly realizes. His eyes are trained on Theo’s face, scanning every inch of his skin.
Theo feels raw, suddenly. Exposed and scared, not unlike an animal being cornered by a predator. Part of him wants to run out of the room, away from the security of Liam’s family and drive away until he doesn’t recognize himself.
“Did something happen?” Liam’s voice is delicate, like he’s tending to a child. Like Theo will crumble into dust if he speaks too loud.
He shakes his head, gingerly sitting beside Liam on the bed. “No.” But his voice betrays him, hoarse and dull.
Theo stares at Liam, watching his skin wrinkle as his eyebrows furrow. He knows Liam doesn’t believe him and he can’t bring himself to have any sort of defense.
Everything has happened, Theo thinks. He’s been through so much strain and agony that he isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him to experience.
And there’s no one to talk about it with.
Liam pulls Theo farther onto the bed, urging him to get comfortable. He obeys, albeit reluctantly. He knows there isn’t a permanent place for him here. There isn’t a place for him anywhere. No home to go back to, no understanding of what a home is, really.
Theo’s laying down on his back now, head turned towards Liam fully, their eyes dragging to meet each other. He’s studying Theo again, vivid and bright and so Liam. Liam’s eyes scan his face, finding each imperfection that lays on the surface. Theo wills himself not to do the same thing back. Liam shouldn’t be his to look at, not with everything Theo comes with, with everything he’s done.
“You’re upset.” Liam states, blunt as ever. He’s right, because Liam can read him easily, though Theo wasn’t trying very hard to hide it.
He presses his lips together, working out what to say. It always comes down to the same thing. Theo doesn’t have the words, doesn’t have the language or capacity to explain why he feels this way. He doesn’t know how to let anyone in and see everything lying below the surface, neatly organized like a surgeon's tools in the operating room. There’s no way Liam will understand, and if he’s honest, Theo’s grateful for that. Liam would’ve been a great asset to the doctors, as much as Theo hates to think about it. Time and time again, he would let himself get taken over Liam, just so he can be kept safe.
“Yeah.” He states, barely a breath into the blazing energy of the room.
“Why?”
Theo doesn’t respond for a while. He stares at Liam’s scar, thinks about how he has none. There are no physical markings to show what the doctors had done, the countless surgeries and experiments he went through for their sick sense of power. Truth be told, he has no idea why he’s so upset. He’s glad that none of them had to go through what he did, the horrors that were so familiar to him.
But he can’t ever talk about it.
He sees the looks they give him when they remember, sorrowful and sympathetic. He watches them wince if he mentions it, as if they’re just now remembering everything that had happened. They understand how awful it was for him, but they have no idea how it feels. They don’t know what it’s like to be turned into a pawn for your whole life, to be punished for something you’re not sure you could have helped.
The doctors had called it creation. Creation of a new life for Theo, a new future.
Privately, he thought it was slaughter. Slaughter of who he once was, slaughter of who he wanted to be.
Theo wonders what would have happened if he had denied them. He doubts he’d be alive, because the doctors are calloused and power stricken. Honestly, he doubts he’d be able to say no. He’s not strong enough, not defiant enough to deny them and the joyful life they promised.
He scoots closer to Liam, ever so slightly. He can feel Liam’s breath, hot against his cheek. “Doesn’t matter.”
Liam’s face falls, ever so slightly. He swallows and Theo watches his throat bob as he tries to find his words. Theo’s always scrambling to find his words, like there’s something in his brain that was damaged. Something leaving him unable to say the right thing.
He decides to be vulnerable, just slightly, because he can’t bear the idea of putting Liam through any more strife.
Liam says nothing. He says everything, in that pure moment of silence. Theo’s eyes blur and he’s vaguely aware of Liam’s hands - calloused and so, so gentle it almost stings - wiping stray tears off his cheeks.
Theo wants to tell him everything, how much he wants to feel safe, how much he wants and how little he deserves; but the words get caught in the iron bars of his chest, clanging rhythmically against his skin. They’re like a rabid animal, snapping at anything that gets too close without understanding the intent to help. Just thrashing and pushing away in a vicious cycle. Theo tries, really truly tries, to open his mouth and give a semblance of an explanation, but everything gets stuck in his mouth, hanging off the tip of his tongue. He feels a little like he’s choking, the weight of it all heavy on his chest and leaving a lump in his throat. There’s mumbling in the background of Theo’s ever-spiraling thoughts, Liam carefully brushing his stray hairs off of Theo’s face with his fingertips, ghosting his hairline. The feeling of Liam’s hands, so gentle against his skin, practically sends Theo into hysterics. The lines along his face where Liam had touched him burn. They burn with regret and guilt. They burn with the realization that no one had been gentle with him in more than a decade. No one had cared enough to push his hair away or wipe stray tears off of his face. No one cared the way Liam does.
Everything crumbles. Theo’s desperately trying not to fall apart at the seams, crumbling as if he were some child who had scraped their knee at the park. Liam’s just listening, analyzing Theo with soft eyes and pinched lips, his silence - tenderhearted and delicate - stings almost as much as his touch did. Liam carefully grabs him by the shoulder, pulling him close to his chest. The room is silent, sans Theo’s ragged breathing and the sound of Liam rubbing his back. Theo wants to push away, to yell and snarl at Liam for even thinking about treating him like some sort of frail child. It’s too familiar, the concerned looks and gentle touches. It's like he’s young again, pressed into the uncomfortably sticky leather cots and struggling to breathe while the nurse calls his parents. He’s spent so many years fighting. Fighting just to survive, fighting against people trying to help, even fighting against himself. He isn’t sure he can give up now, pressed up against Liam’s chest while he tries to calm his breathing.
It’s so much easier to shove away, Theo realizes. He gears up, tensing his muscles in preparation to push himself off the bed, to drive off until he has no chance of seeing Liam - or anyone, for that matter - ever again. But he feels Liam’s breath hitch slightly, his body relaxing in defeat. Liam, who went out of his way to spend time with Theo. Liam, who tried so hard to make sure he was comfortable. Liam, who had tried repeatedly to give him a home, a family.
He can’t do it.
He can’t run off on the only person who had made sure he was safe. He can’t run off on Liam, despite every instinct screaming at him to. Carefully, Theo peels away from Liam’s chest, leaving a few inches of space between them on the bed. He doesn’t look at Liam’s face in fear that he’ll crumble all over again. Swallowing thickly, he thinks about how the doctors would feel if they saw him like this, sniveling like a fucking baby. He thinks about what they did to kids who acted like this, who weren't strong enough to keep it all contained. Liam’s eyes are searing a hole into his skull
“Theo?”
He flinches. He can’t help it, expecting a scolding or some sort of cruel punishment for something as stupid as crying. It’s involuntary, a force of habit brought on from his barbaric upbringing and Theo stills completely, trying to gain the courage to look Liam in the eyes. He does so, slowly and cautiously, like a cornered animal. Liam’s eyes are unbearably soft as he gazes down at Theo. He steels himself for the blow he expects to come, the scoff and taunting he knows he deserves.
It never comes, though. Theo doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how caring Liam is, despite the countless times he’s experienced it first-hand. Liam’s fidgeting now, clearly not knowing what he should do in this situation.
Eventually, he decides on handing Theo a tissue from his bedside table and getting up to grab him a glass of water. Those few minutes where Theo’s alone, where he’s vulnerable in Liam’s room with nothing but himself are some of the most awkward moments in his life. He feels so unbearably lonely the second Liam leaves. Theo bites back a fresh wave of tears, a force of habit, a reflex. There’s soft, gentle voices downstairs, he realizes. Liam must be talking to his mom while he gets a drink for Theo. It hurts, all over again. The caring, how gentle Liam is to him, how willing he is to do anything for him. Standing suddenly, Theo slips into the bathroom, a blanket falling carelessly to the floor. He’s done being a burden on Liam - and Jenna and David, by extension. Done acting like a child, some sort of whiny, bratty toddler who can’t control themselves. Theo makes quick work of washing his face to make himself look presentable again. There isn’t much he can do about the subtle swelling around his eyelids, but he can wipe away the tracks of tears on his cheeks, the smudges where Liam had so delicately wiped his tears away.
He can be an asset at least, put them at ease until he can leave.
Theo quietly walks out of the bathroom, satisfied with his appearance. There’s a non-zero chance that Liam has at least mentioned Theo’s nervous breakdown to Jenna, even in passing. He fully anticipates careful glances with too-soft eyes, sad smiles and gentle words.
He does not anticipate Liam setting the table.
Jenna’s in the process of taking everything out of the oven, gathering serving spoons and pot holders and setting them on the edge of the counter. Liam’s busy running back and forth, placing silverware, glasses, plates, and the pot holders on the table in its designated place. They move in sync, like it’s practiced. As if they’re a well-oiled machine, built to move in tandem.
His eyes are watering again, Theo vaguely recognizes. If they notice, neither Liam nor Jenna comment on it. Jenna’s smiling at him, ushering him to his designated spot at the dining room table. “I made that chicken you like. There should be enough to take home, if you want.”
Swallowing thickly, Theo nods. He can’t tell her that this is his home, the only thing even remotely similar he’s had to a home in almost a decade. He definitely can’t tell her that he doesn’t even have a house to return to, in fear of the pity he’d see on her face. Like she’s one of those reflective signs when he drives at night looking for a place to sleep. Bright and grabbing attention, but in a way that causes his eyes to ache when they’re too thick with exhaustion.
Liam’s done setting the table now, taking his spot beside Theo. Jenna sits across from them both and gestures towards the food as she begins serving herself. Scooting his chair a bit closer to the table, Liam leans over his plate to grab at a pot of mashed potatoes and spoon some out onto his plate.
Theo hesitates.
He’s had dinner here countless times, served himself just as many. But his hands feel frozen where they rest in his lap. The thought of grabbing a spatula or tongs to serve himself someone else's food seems so wrong. He hasn’t done anything to earn this. Every instinct in his body is telling him that he doesn't deserve this food; this house, this family, he doesn’t deserve any of it.
Picking listlessly at his food, Theo listens to Jenna and Liam talk about their day. It’s so agonizingly domestic how routine this all seems to them. He can’t bring himself to eat the food Jenna worked so hard on, despite being hungry. He feels like he’s ill, pulled a bit too tight at the seams, creased too harshly for his liking. Everything sits heavy in his stomach, a boulder of regret, guilt, and pure unbridled want.
It doesn’t go unnoticed, much to his dismay. Jenna addresses Theo gently, “Are you going to eat, honey?”
Theo snaps his eyes up to look at her, shrugging. She treats him so tenderly all the time, as if he was her own. “I’m not very hungry. Sorry.”
She’s looking at him with inquiring eyes, carefully prodding. “Are you feeling okay?”
Nodding, Theo sets his fork down on the plate. “Just not hungry.”
There’s no way Liam hasn’t figured out he’s lying, even without the physical indicators. He has a way of reading Theo with such incredible skill that even without the chemosignals or his heartbeat, Liam almost always knows almost exactly what he’s feeling. He’s staring at him again, his eyes boring holes into Theo’s skull.
“I’ll wrap up the leftovers and you can have some later tonight.” Jenna smiles kindly at him, and it causes something to pang in his chest; hollow and sore.
Theo nods and smiles politely, continuing to pick at his food while Liam and Jenna talk. Dinner ends quickly, everyone helping to clean up. Theo’s in charge of packing up the leftovers and making room in the fridge while Jenna and Liam work on loading the dishwasher and leaving the larger dishes to soak in the sink. He likes this, having a set task with specific expectations. It makes him feel like he belongs, almost, and he has to swallow down the fact that he doesn’t, that this isn’t his home. It’s bitter all the way down, sticking in the back of his throat.
Liam touches Theo’s shoulder from where he’s stood in front of the now-closed fridge, causing him to turn and look at him. He gestures to upstairs, the bedroom, with a short nod of his head. Theo follows him upstairs in a thick silence.
They sit in their own worlds for a few hours, Liam working on homework at the desk while Theo flips through his book - some verbose apocalyptic virus book that he was enamored with - until Liam groans and throws his head back.
“I fucking hate biology.”
Theo smiles, ever so slightly. “I know.”
“She assigns so much work and it’s so repetitive and boring.” He whines, leaning over the back of the chair.
Humming, Theo turns the page of his book.
“She takes so long to explain concepts too, but doesn’t take the time to explain them thoroughly. Like if you're going to describe punnett squares for that long at least make sure we know everything we need to, y’know?”
“Not really, no.”
Liam shuts his book with a dull thud, tossing his notes on top of it. “I’m done. It’s late and this is stupid.”
Theo glances up towards Liam’s alarm clock, reading 11:48. “Huh.”
Liam pushes himself up, walking to the bathroom to get ready for bed. “Book that good?”
The door clicks shut behind him before he can think of a response and Theo’s left alone in the room, flat on his stomach with the book splayed out in front of him.
He can hear Liam brushing his teeth, the dull sound of the faucet running. Theo’s gotten so used to the routine of the Geyer’s house, the simple monotony of their everyday life, that he can almost latch on to the faint memories of his own childhood. There’s only so much he can really recall, with his brain being deconstructed and developed into the perfect soldier. He can remember his parents scolding him to go brush his own teeth, being read stories about dragons and heroic knights dressed in suits of armor, whispering to Tara in the darkness of her room when neither of them could sleep. It stings deep in his chest, near the assemblage of words trapped at the base of his neck.
His vision blurs over slightly as he closes his book and he has to quickly blink it away as Liam reenters the bedroom. Playfully shoving Theo, he smiles his signature smile. Bright and secure and so undeniably Liam.
Theo excuses himself to the bathroom before he can think about it too hard.
Laying flat on his back, Theo stares up at the rough texture of Liam’s ceiling.
He had given up actually trying to sleep hours ago, instead waiting for sleep to overcome him or the night to pass. Neither seemed to be happening anytime soon. The dull light of Liam’s alarm clock showed the hours passing (now 3:28, not that he was counting) and his eyes had a blunt ache from the lack of sleep.
Liam had started to stir a half hour ago, but nothing from Liam had shown distress like Theo had anticipated. There was no mumbling, thrashing, or heavy breathing the way he usually got during a nightmare. Liam just seemed restless. Like he couldn’t sleep either. He fully woke up, the clock reading 3:30, and drew a long breath through his nose and out his mouth. “You’re really loud, you know that?”
Theo shifted from his position beside Liam. “I haven’t even moved.” He muttered, covering his eyes with his forearm.
“Your thoughts are like, deafening.”
“That makes no sense.”
Humming, Liam gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Can’t sleep?”
Theo hums back in acknowledgment.
“We could go do something.”
“It’s late.”
Liam gives another shrug, his movement sluggish. “Better than you just laying here.”
It takes a while, but eventually Liam wears Theo down enough for them to trudge down to the truck. They decide on a late night drive through Beacon Hills. It’s chilly out, everything covered in a thick layer of reflective dew; like a snow globe filled with glitter.
Fifteen minutes of aimless driving later, the trees and streetlights just contrasting blots as they speed through the streets, fast enough to make any parental figure deeply disappointed in their decisions. Liam's leaning against the door, his forehead resting on the foggy window. In all honesty, Theo feels guilty to have taken him out so late at night, even if it was his suggestion to begin with. He's grinding his teeth, driving fully on autopilot.
"Do you... want to stop for snacks or something?" Liam says eventually; hesitant, almost afraid.
Theo doesn't say anything, but he flicks on his blinker and turns to the nearest gas station. The fluorescent lights of the building are bright, bright enough that he notices Liam squint when he hops out of the car. He stares at Theo, who hasn't moved from his place in the driver's seat.
"Are you coming in?"
He shakes his head, avoiding his eyes. "I'm okay."
Liam stands there for a moment, staring at him. He can feel Liam's eyes on the side of his head, can hear his heartbeat - tense and uncertain. Theo's stomach hurts. He doesn't say anything else.
Eventually, Liam quits his staring and walks into the gas station, presumably grabbing snacks for himself. He comes back with a plastic bag, two bottles in hand.
"I got you the tea drink you like," Liam says, dropping it into the cup holder. "And those gross pretzels you love."
Theo hums, trying to hide his slight surprise.
Liam tries again. "We should go to the Preserve or something. Somewhere nice."
"Okay." Theo backs out of his parking spot, turning down the road. He wants to apologize, for earlier today, for just a few minutes, for right now. He wants to say everything he's spent so long pushing down, holding back. But he doesn't. He can't.
He's not sure if he ever will.
They pull into the parking lot of the Preserve - unsurprisingly completely empty. He pulls in, far into the trees but not far enough to end up stuck in the forest. Liam hands him the pretzels, taking out his own bag of chips. They sit like that, eating their respective snacks in the serene quiet of the forest. It'd be almost enjoyable if Theo didn't feel so impossibly heavy.
Liam, to his credit, really tries to brighten Theo without trying to force the issue out of him. His meaningless conversation falls on deaf ears - Theo isn’t really listening, much less giving any sort of coherent response.
“Theo?”
He hums in acknowledgement, glancing at Liam’s knees pressed beside his own.
“Is there- is there something you want to talk about?”
Theo shakes his head hastily. “No, I’m okay. What were you saying?”
“You haven’t been paying attention. Or acting like yourself.”
He shrugs in response. There’s a lump in his throat again, thick and burning down his esophagus.
“Theo…” Liam trails off, and the silence echoes around the Preserve. He pushes himself closer to Theo, their legs touching from knee to hip and shoulders lightly brushing. A shudder runs down Theo’s spine.
“Theo, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”
And he can’t. That’s the root of the problem, the root of who he is. This silence is too ingrained in him, to the point where he doesn’t even know where to start.
“Your house is always so nice.” I wish I could stay here forever.
Liam blinks, slowly. “Is… Is that the problem?”
“Your mom is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” I wish I had a family, the way you do.
“Theo, I don’t understand-“
“They try so hard to understand.” But they never will. They’ll never understand the feeling of your family being taken from you, because of you. They’ll never know how it feels to be ripped apart and sewn back together until you aren’t sure whether the pieces are even you anymore.
“Theo, please just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t.” He whispers through choked sobs. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”
They sit together for a moment, Liam rubbing Theo’s back comfortingly.
“There isn’t anything I can say.” He says eventually, having calmed down enough to speak without his voice cracking again. “To make you understand. It’s too much and it’s too hard. I can’t do it.”
His voice is hoarse and raw, like he’d been screaming. In a way, he has. Screaming for someone to see him, for someone to get him.
He doesn’t look at Liam, he’s honestly not sure he can. He can’t handle the pitying look he knows is all over Liam’s face; the deep furrow in his eyebrow, the downturn of his lips, slightly sucked in from where he’s biting at his cheeks.
“Understand what?” His voice is incredibly gentle, almost a whisper.
Theo sniffs, taking a deep breath in. He’s not sure how much time passes before he finally gears up enough to talk, but eventually he says. “Everything, I guess. I don’t know. I just-” He takes a second, closes his mouth and opens it again. “I’m happy you don't get it. But I- I can’t talk about it. Because no one gets it. And no one will, because everyone who did was killed and- I can’t talk about it. I can’t-” He drops his head into his hands, covering his eyes.
He keeps muttering I can’t under his breath, Liam drawing him in close and holding on tightly.
“You can talk about it, you know.”
Theo scoffs, still pressed into Liam’s side.
“I won’t understand. At least, not how it felt for you. But it’d be good to talk to someone about it and I-I might be able to relate to it in different ways. Or someone would. Like Corey or Nolan or someone.”
He doesn’t say anything (a recurring problem in his life, Theo notes) to that.
“We won’t know exactly how it feels or anything and I know that must really suck, but we can still help, if you’ll let us. Or if you want.”
Theo shakes his head, voice muffled through Liam’s shirt. “There’s- I don’t know how. I don’t have the words and they get stuck in my throat and- it hurts. It’s stupid.”
Liam leans forward so that he’s fully in Theo’s line of vision. His eyes are so bright, so earnest and empathetic. Theo can’t help but to want to get lost in them, for just a minute.
“It’s not stupid.”
Theo has to resist the urge to scoff, the knee-jerk reaction to cut Liam off and snap back at him. But Liam continues talking, quiet and gentle.
“It’s hard for you to explain. And you were- you were brought up in a way that didn’t teach you communication skills. It makes sense.”
Theo has to turn away from Liam, fully avoiding his eyes. He can’t look at him, not with Liam’s eyes so forgiving.
Liam swallows audibly, his throat clicking, and Theo can tell that he’s sorting through his words, searching for the right thing to say.
“I think that, if you wanted to, you could talk about it to all of us. And we’d all be able to understand little bits and pieces until you feel less alone.”
His chest aches. Theo nods slightly, if to just get Liam to drop the subject entirely.
“I want you to understand that even if I don’t get it, I still want to hear about what’s bothering you. I- You should be heard. I want to listen to you.”
Theo finally gains the courage to look Liam in the eye, studying his expression. His eyebrows are furrowed in a perfect mixture of concern and hope, lips drawn together in a serious line as he bites the insides ever so slightly. Theo can’t bring himself to say anything, and Liam carefully brings him closer and rubs his shoulder gently.
The ache in his chest is less striking now. He can breathe easier and he doesn’t feel quite so bare. “Thank you.” Theo whispers.
Liam smiles softly, and Theo traces his expression. The lines around his eyes move, wrinkling just at the corners, and the edges of his lips turn up just slightly enough to push his cheeks up with them. With a careful hand, Liam reaches up to wipe a stray tear off of Theo’s face. His hand reaches on Theo’s jawline and lingers there, painstakingly soft. Theo stares heavily at him, Liam’s breath hot on Theo’s cheek.
“I want you to feel safe.” He says, the feeling of his hand burning against Theo’s skin. “I want you to feel like you belong. Like you’re home.”
Theo opens his mouth slightly, drawing in a quick breath. “I do,” He whispers, “I do when I’m with you.”
Liam isn’t looking him in the eyes anymore, his gaze having fallen to Theo’s lips. “Can I kiss you?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and it sounds unreal to Theo. He nods.
Liam closes the space between them, gently brushing Theo’s lips with his own. It’s gentle and light; Theo feels safe within the moment.
He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can feel safe in the moments to follow.