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Increasingly, Liam's made it harder for Theo to resent himself.
"Shove over," Liam says when he gets back from his shower, old t-shirt sticking to his skin where it's still damp, hair dripping onto Theo's face when Liam looms over him in an attempt at intimidation. He misses by about a mile.
"Or what?" Theo asks, stretching further across Liam's bed, bringing Liam's sheets up until he's covered from toe to chin. He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to take the bait that is Liam shaking his head like the werepuppy he actually is and making more cold, stinging droplets of water rain down on him. "Gonna have to try harder than that."
"Damn," though Liam doesn't sound too put out, and it doesn't take long for Theo to find out why.
His eyes fly open at the sudden weight on top of him, and the wet, spiky tips of Liam's hair tickle his ear and neck where he goes to bury his face. Theo can both hear and feel him snuffling, nose pressed to Theo's skin, and it soothes something in him at the same time as it absolutely ignites him that Liam finds solace in his scent—in Theo's scent.
Liam shouldn't. He shouldn't seek comfort or warmth or something soft and sweet in Theo. Mostly because Theo's still not entirely sure any of those things exist within him. Whatever Liam coaxes to the surface, it has to be the shards of whatever mask Theo used to wear, his person suit, a sham meant to draw in and trick and then hurt.
"Stop thinking so much," Liam says, voice muffled. His lips brush against Theo's neck, just above where it connects to shoulder, and it takes more than it should for Theo not to shiver at the feeling.
"Any thinking is a lot, compared to the amount you do," Theo retorts, which does nothing but send Liam into a round of giggles, and Theo does his best to ignore the little skips in Liam's chest when he pushes himself up to look down at him.
"Hey," he says.
"Hi," Theo says back.
Liam is quiet after that, seemingly content to stay staring at Theo. At first, when Liam started to do this (and Theo let him do it), Theo compared it to being laid on an operation table, flayed open and inspected, poked and prodded and searched to see if the final product lived up to its hype.
It doesn't feel that way anymore.
He's not on an unforgiving metal table; there aren't any scalpels. Liam's stare is less like a blade and more like a blanket, one that covers him and manages to warm him from the inside out. He's not in an operating theater—he's in Liam's bedroom. He's a boy on a bed, with the boy he likes laid atop him, content to just look at him, and somehow that's a lot more than he ever thought he'd get to have.
There's still a tug of guilt in Theo's heart when he finally meets Liam's baby blues and thinks of what he'd almost made him do. What he'd wanted him to do. And maybe he'll spend their whole relationship making up for that, whether it be by curbing Liam's anger when nothing else seems to be able to, keeping him grounded and steady, to stop him from cutting that loose again. But what he does for Liam, it's long since abandoned the idea of penance. He can tell himself he does it out of obligation or out of regret, but the truth of the matter is that he does it because he cares. Probably, maybe, because he's in love.
"You're still thinking," Liam whispers.
"'M not," Theo replies, just as quiet. Like this, he can hear Liam's heartbeat clear and strong over anything else without even trying, and he wonders what it means that it matches his own. And it is his own heart now. You can only try shoving it back in its original chest so many times before you realize the organ's outgrown it.
See what he means? He's just having trouble feeling bad toward himself these days, and most of the time, it's because Liam's ruined that for him.
"Stop it." Liam crawls back until his head is aligned with Theo's chest, and he lowers himself slowly down. He turns his head, presses his ear into Theo's sternum. "Go to sleep."
"You're the one that keeps talking," Theo grumbles, but Liam just shushes him, eyes already shut. His lashes fan prettily against his cheek where Theo can see. He clenches a fist, looks to the ceiling.
"Stop it," Liam says again.
"What'd I do?" Theo asks, petulant now because he really wasn't doing anything.
"You're allowed to like me back, y'know," Liam says, words slurred slightly from how his mouth is smushed against Theo's chest. "I know you always hear when my—yeah. So, let me hear yours. I like it."
Slowly, Theo uncurls his fingers from his palm. He exhales, blinks, looks back down at the top of Liam's head. He takes a hand, brings it up to brush Liam's hair back and away from his face, and he doesn't even wince at the stiffness where it's still wet. He says, "Okay."
He feels more than sees Liam smile, notes how his scent deepens, all rich honey and fresh-cut grass, the minty soap he uses. It's not as simple as Liam makes it sound. There's a chance Theo will always pause to choose between keeping his heartbeat steady and letting it do as it pleases. But he's starting to believe Liam when he says he knows and that he doesn't mind—he's probably always believed Liam, at least a little bit, subconsciously, or else they wouldn't be anywhere near where they are right now.
And it feels good to think Liam believes him, believes that he's trying, that he wants to let his guard down, let his heart do all the somersaults it wants when Liam's around.
Theo lets his eyes fall shut, and because he can, he brings his arms around Liam, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. It makes his heart go erratic. Liam's does the same.
"Hey," Liam starts because apparently he's incapable of letting Theo sleep, even when he's the one who keeps pushing him to sleep.
"What?" The word doesn't come out half as sharp as he'd intended.
There's quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing, the crickets outside, the ticking of the clock down the hall. Under Theo's palms, he feels Liam shift, the flex in warm muscle. Liam hums, then says, "Never mind. I'll tell you in the morning."
"Hey," Liam says the next morning, like he'd said he would.
Theo blinks blearily up at him, the sunlight too bright and wishing he were still asleep.
"I love you."
No, nope, Theo's awake. His eyes open wide while Liam pushes himself upright to sit astride Theo's thighs, laughing at the spike in his heart and the blush that's burned its way across Theo's cheeks.
When his laughter dies down, his smile doesn't fade, and he meets Theo's eyes once more, though Theo's eyes for sure never left him. "I thought," Liam begins, "it might be better to say it now, than if we were dying or in danger and I wouldn't have the chance to again. Crappy dime, right?"
Because now he's not too sure he's not just dreaming, Theo replies, "You're literally taking Latin. You know it's carpe diem."
"Yeah," Liam agrees, "I do."
Theo blinks, forces Liam to sit even further back on his haunches so he can sit upright. "Um," he says. And then, "You too. I mean, I love you too."
Liam's smile grows so wide, blinding and beautiful, then that Theo doesn't know what else to do—he can only think to kiss him. Their teeth clack because it seems Theo can't stop smiling either, and they've both got morning breath that would probably be lethal to anyone other than a teenage werewolf and a boy raised in the sewers, and there's still a little part of Theo that's holding its breath and waiting, certain the other shoe will drop, but Liam gives the kiss what he gives most everything else—his absolute all—and that little part falls quieter and quieter, until all he can hear is the pound of Liam's heart… and also the stutter of his own.