Chapter Text
Nothing. He’ll get over it.
With an annoyed huff, Liam defeatedly opened his eyes and accepted the fact that a full night of sleep was completely out of reach. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at his cracked ceiling and blinked. He intertwined his fingers over his chest, tracking the subtle rise and fall of each breath.
It was still too early.
Liam frowned and rolled over, peering past Theo’s sleeping form to squint at the digital clock on his nightstand.
4:28 AM it read.
Yep, way too early.
Not even his parents would find him awake at this hour even on a school day.Outside, the world was cast in a bruised, pre-dawn gray, the sun still hidden well below a thick horizon of clouds. In a few minutes it’ll be bright enough for the house to finally wake up, but still too early for him to get out of bed.
Liam’s fingers drummed a frantic, silent rhythm against his sternum. He was entirely at a loss of what to do.
Maybe he could wait it out? If he just stayed under the covers and faked a heavy, even breathing pattern, it wouldn’t look suspicious. After all, he was notoriously a late riser; waking up early was completely out of character.
I know how to read people.
Yeah, no, Liam needed a distraction, and he needed it now, or his own mind was going to chew him up and spit him out in a million mangled pieces.
With a defeated, irritated sigh, he dragged himself up and threw a silent, bitter groan toward whatever deity might be listening. He cast a sharp glance down at Theo. The Chimera looked infuriatingly relaxed in his sleep, his sharp facial features completely untainted by his usual scowl. Without that arrogant smirk, he actually looked his age—maybe even a few years younger, as if he didn't have a single problem in the world.
Liam frowned, somehow feeling rather irritated because he should be the one sleeping, relaxed, not overthinking. He should be the one resting, not drowning in his own thoughts. But here he was.
The urge to smash a pillow directly over Theo’s peaceful face was so overwhelming that Liam had to physically force himself out of bed. He marched toward his closet, the tension building so thickly beneath his skin it made him feel claustrophobic. He needed an outlet—he had to burn this energy off somewhere, and preferably in a way that didn’t involve punching a hole through his bedroom wall or at someone’s face.
Liam decided on an early morning run.
After changing into his tank top and running short, Liam knelt to lace up his running shoes. He was just about to ghost out of the room when a sharp electronic ping shattered the silence.
Liam paused. His gaze snapped to the nightstand, where Theo’s phone screen was glowing aggressively in the dark. Liam glared at the screen, then down at the Chimera’s deeply relaxed, sleeping face. He blinked once. Twice. Then, moving with quiet deliberation, he snatched the phone off the wood.
He swiped it open, immediately silencing the notification before checking his active alarms. Unsurprisingly, there was only one set. Theo was far too meticulously coordinated to ever need a backup alarm; he wasn't the type to accidentally sleep through a wakeup call.
“Okay, fuck you.” Liam muttered irritably and also a bit enviously.
With a petty eyeroll, he tossed the phone onto the mattress, over the barrier of pillows dividing the bed and landed right next to Theo’s area.
Theo could learn to sleep in late for once. In fact, the guy would really do well with a few extra hours of shut-eye.
Liam slipped downstairs and unlocked the front door, but he froze on the threshold when his stomach let out a ferocious, hollow growl. He made a face, glaring down at his own midsection as if it had personally offended him. Tilting his head from side to side, he briefly weighed the pros and cons of skipping breakfast, before begrudgingly reminding himself of the monstrous metabolism he’d been cursed with ever since becoming a werewolf. Letting out yet another groan, Liam turned on his heel and marched toward the kitchen.
Originally, his plan was simple: make one egg sandwich and get out. Instead, he completely underestimated the heat of the stove, burning through a few charred eggs and pieces of toast before he finally managed to construct a sandwich to his liking. Looking at the small pile of culinary casualties, Liam decided he could just pretend he’d thoughtfully made breakfast for the whole family. He scribbled a quick sticky note and slapped it onto the fridge to inform his mom once she woke up.
Theo’s probably a great cook, that talented bastard. Liam thought bitterly. He probably learned how to make gourmet meals, one of his many capabilities to help win people over.
Liam paused mid-chew and frowned, hand falling heavily on the kitchen island still holding the slightly charred sandwich. He had just managed not to think about the guy for a full moment there, and yet here he was agan.
Stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth all at once, Liam decided he officially needed that run. Right about now.
Wiping his mouth and patting his hand clean on his cut up shorts, Liam went out the front, closed the door and started running.
He didn't have a destination in mind. That was the point. No preserve trail he'd memorized, no specific loop around the neighborhood, no route that would conveniently end at Mason's house or the lacrosse field. Just forward. One foot in front of the other. Movement for the sake of movement.
The pre-dawn air was cold enough to sting, but Liam welcomed it. The sharp bite against his skin was something to feel other than the restless, crawling sensation under his veins. His breath didn’t come out in white puffs due to the summer atmosphere, but each exhale felt heavy and cold. Maybe because it’s still too fucking early.
Nothing. He’ll get over it.
Liam’s foot caught on an uneven lip of concrete, and he nearly tripped.
His jaw hardened. Recovering his balance, the Beta pushed forward, his footfalls striking the pavement much heavier than before.
The words had lodged themselves in Liam's chest like shrapnel. Small, sharp, impossible to ignore. Theo had said it about Alec—about the younger Beta's obvious, embarrassing, annoying crush—an infatuation so glaringly apparent that even Malia had noticed. Theo had spoken with such casual dismissal, treating Alec's feelings like a minor inconvenience that would simply dissolve if ignored long enough.
I know how to read people.
Liam's pace quickened entirely on instinct. His sneakers slapped against the asphalt in a frantic rhythm that perfectly matched his heartbeat—fast, uneven, and spiked with restlessness.
If Theo knew how to read people—which he does, accurately and terrifyingly so based on past experiences— then what did that mean for him?
Theo had been reading his chemosignals, to annoy him, to know when to fucking mess with him. The guy had studied the pack for months before ever setting foot in Beacon Hills. He knew Liam's tells, his triggers, his heartbeat patterns. He'd mapped Liam's anger and fear and desperation like a cartographer charting unknown territory.
Theo had to know.
He should… shouldn’t he?
Liam stumbled slightly, catching himself on the balls of his feet. He let out a gritty groan before continuing, irritated at himself.
They kissed twice.
The first time, there was this medical, life saving, pain siphoning excuse. Theo was dying, and Liam had used the method that would surely work for him. It made sense, it was the logical, albeit desperate and clumsy, decision. But it was with a medical purpose.
But the second one…
Liam let out a loud, frustrated huff into the empty morning sky, his face burning with sheer embarrassment. He skidded to a halt, snatched up a random rock from the side of the road, and hurled it into the woods until it cracked violently against a tree trunk. He stared at the spot, blinked once, and then did it again. And again. And again.
Until the humiliating frustration finally bubbled over. Feeling like he was about to combust, Liam yelled aggressively at the clouds, violently ruffling his own hair and shaking his whole body out as if his physical frame were suddenly too small to contain the frantic tension building inside him.
“FUCK THIS!” he screamed at the top of his lungs before taking off at a dead sprint.
Theo had to know about his feelings. There was no fucking way he shouldn’t. The chemosignals didn't lie. The heartbeats didn't lie. And Theo—the master manipulator, the guy who'd built an entire strategy around reading people's weaknesses—couldn't possibly not know.
Nothing. He'll get over it.
Liam's chest was burning now, and he wasn't entirely sure if it was from the sprint or something else entirely.
Was that it? Was that Theo's strategy, treat Liam exactly like Alec? Wait for the feelings to burn themselves out. Be distant, but not cruel, say no enough times that eventually Liam would stop asking?
The thought made Liam's stomach turn so violently he had to slow his pace, his sneakers scraping against the asphalt in an uneven, uncoordinated rhythm.
No, because Theo wasn't treating him like Alec. That was the problem. Alec got dismissed. Alec got a flat ‘He’ll get over it’ albeit not to his face but still. Alec’s feelings were met with Theo’s usual cold indifference—the kind of practiced emotional distance he deployed when he had absolutely zero interest in entertaining someone.
But Liam?
Liam got Theo sleeping against his bedroom door for months. Liam got Theo holding his hand to his chest so he could feel his heartbeat. Liam got Theo kissing him back in the woods, grabbing his waist and tangling his fingers in his hair like he never wanted to let go.
That should atleast mean something, right? Right?
Liam's chest constricted, his breath catching in a way that had nothing to do with the run.
So what the fuck exactly was this?
He picked up his pace again, not because he had anywhere to be, but because standing still felt unbearable. The houses blurred past him—familiar streets, unfamiliar shadows. He'd been running for... he didn't know how long. His legs were starting to burn, a dull ache settling into his calves, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.
I know how to read people.
Then fucking read. Liam screamed internally. Actually read the goddamn room. If Theo already knew, why couldn't he just say something? Throw out a hint, a sarcastic comment, anything to give Liam a single, solitary clue about what to do next.
Liam rounded a corner, then another, the streets bleeding together in a maze of identical suburban houses and sleeping driveways. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, and Liam's hearing snagged on it—sharp, territorial, annoying—but he forced himself to tune it out.
Theo had kissed him back. Theo had grabbed him. Theo had held him so tightly in that burning warehouse that Liam could still feel the phantom pressure of his hands if he thought about it too hard.
But Theo also said ‘I don't know’ when Liam asked why, so that’s a moot point. He didn’t know if Theo really didn’t know the answer or just really clueless. Theo should know. The motherfucker could literally scent emotions; how could he possibly not recognize his own.
How was that even possible? How could someone so calculated, so deliberate, so annoyingly precise about everything—his pack research, his training methods, the exact number of sugar packets he put in his coffee—have no idea why he had kissed someone?
I stayed here for a reason and your damn moral compass won’t change how I operate!
Liam’s jaw tightened, the memory of Theo's defensive shout echoing in his ears.
Unless… Theo really did know.
Theo had stayed in Beacon Hills for a reason. For someone. Someone he refused to name, refused to discuss, refused to even hint at. Liam had pushed him on it once, and Theo had shut him down immediately.
I can't tell you.
It hadn’t been a won’t. It had been a can’t. Like the name itself was dangerous. Like saying it out loud would bring more harm.
Theo's silence was about someone else. Someone from before. Someone from his past, or someone he'd met during the war, or someone completely outside Liam's orbit. Someone living right here in Beacon Hills—someone Theo was waiting for. Someone he was protecting.
Liam's chest constricted so tightly his pace faltered. He pressed a palm hard against his sternum, right over his hammering heart, before his knees buckled. He dropped into a crouch on the pavement, burying his head between his knees and forcing himself to drag in one ragged, deep breath after another.
Nothing. He’ll get over it.
The words echoed mercilessly in his skull—a cruel, infinite loop that wouldn't shut off no matter how hard he tried to shake it.
Liam stayed like that for a long, agonizing moment. Crouched on a random sidewalk in a neighborhood he couldn't name, his running shoes scuffed against the concrete as the sharp, cool air slowly forced his breathing to even out.
He stared at the asphalt, at the tiny cracks and pebbles embedded in the gray, at nothing at all. His heartbeat was finally slowing, the frantic hammering in his chest settling into something more manageable. Not calm—he wasn't sure he remembered what calm felt like anymore—but manageable.
The silence pressed in around him. No cars. No birds yet. Just the distant hum of a streetlamp and his own ragged breathing.
Nothing. He'll get over it.
Fuck you, Liam thought bitterly. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. The curse morphed from a silent thought into a bitter, spoken chant. He began muttering it aloud under his breath, his voice growing more fractured and irritated with every repetition. His jaw tightened so hard his teeth ached, his fingers curling tightly against his palms until his blunt fingernails bit into the flesh.
Gargoyles are supposed to be protective.
Liam paused. The muttering died in his throat.
And then, like a crack of light through a boarded-up window, a different memory surfaced. It was the memory of him up with a full bladder only to open the door and find Theo sleeping at the other side.
The dark hallway. The single pillow. The tangled blanket.
Liam's brow furrowed, his gaze drilling holes into the concrete as his mind rewound through the timeline of the past few months, viewing it through a new, painful lens. Theo was always there. He wasn’t hovering, exactly, but he was inherently present. Checking in. Showing up at Liam's door with that flat, unimpressed expression, demanding to know why the Beta was still awake. Driving him to lacrosse practice even while complaining the entire way. Slowly letting Liam into his space—begrudgingly at first, but without any real fight.
Theo’s patience was legendary for its short fuse. Except, apparently, when it came to Liam.
Liam's breath hitched.
Does Theo know? The thought struck him like a physical blow. Does he know he’s my anchor?
The word settled into his chest like a stone dropping into deep water.
Theo knew. Of course Theo knew—the bastard knew everything, didn't he? He could read heartbeats, chemosignals, and the tiniest, microscopic shifts in scent and posture. Liam had been walking around for months with his raw emotions bleeding out of him like an open wound, and Theo, the master of observation, had cataloged every single drop.
Liam wasn’t special. He wasn’t different. Theo’s treatment of him wasn't born out of choice—it was born out of forced obligation.
Theo's ‘patience’ wasn't affection. It was maintenance.
Theo let Liam sit in his room, let him crash his training sessions, let him drape himself across the mattress and complain about summer reading—not because he actually wanted Liam there, but because keeping the Dunbar kid stable was a job description. A job Theo had probably agreed to in some secret, quiet deal with Scott.
It wasn’t even far-fetched. Theo took the role as Alec’s mentor, albeit reluctantly, it would make absolute sense that he also accepted being Liam’s anchor to secure his position in searching for Monroe.
Liam swallowed hard, the back of his throat burning.
The shared heartbeat. The kisses. The sleeping in his bed. All of it. Fucking crowd control. Pack politics. Responsibilities.
His jaw tightened so hard his teeth actively ached.
It wasn’t like he was outrightly hoping, but at the back of his mind, he had been. Stupidly, pathetically, embarrassingly hoping that maybe—fucking maybe—things were different for him. That Theo's walls had cracks that only Liam could slip through.
He was being so completely delusional.
The Beta stood up slowly, his joints popping, his knees protesting after being locked in a tight crouch for too long. He stared down the empty street. The morning light was finally beginning to filter through the heavy clouds, but it didn't look bright or beautiful. It just cast the entire neighborhood in a pale, washed-out, suffocating gray.
He felt so incredibly stupid.
No—he felt unanimously stupid. The kind of stupid that had no excuse, no defense, no argument. He'd convinced himself that Theo's reluctant tolerance was at least something. But at the end it was just biology.
Liam pushed himself to his feet, brushing the grit from his palms against his shorts. His legs were heavy but he started running again anyway. Not because he had anywhere to be. Not because the restless energy was still clawing under his skin.
Just because standing still felt worse.
He ran without thinking, without feeling, his feet carrying him through neighborhoods he didn't recognize and streets he'd never bothered to learn. The sun climbed higher, burning off the last of the morning chill, but Liam barely noticed. He was too busy trying not to think about green walls and stolen glances and the weight of a hand pressed against his chest.
I know how to read people.
Then read this, Liam thought, a toxic wave of bitterness washing over him. Read how fucking stupid I feel right now.
By the time the shadows on the pavement had shrunk to nothing, the world was completely washed out in a flat, unflattering glare. Liam checked the sun's position, then glanced around at the unfamiliar houses to orient himself. He'd been running for over an hour. Maybe two. His legs were screaming and his lungs were on fire, but at least the hollow ache in his chest had finally gone quiet, numbed by the exhaustion.
It’s probably time to head back anyway.
Liam turned and started the long route home, his pace slower now, more deliberate. He wasn't eager to get back. Wasn't really eager to see Theo's face just yet.
But he couldn't avoid it forever.
The Geyer-Dunbar house came into view eventually, the familiar siding and the overgrown rose bushes his mom kept meaning to trim. Liam slowed to a walk as he approached, his chest heaving, his tank top clinging to his sweat-slicked skin.
And then he saw them.
Theo was standing on the front porch, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking as infuriatingly composed as ever. And in front of him, looking disheveled and nervous, was Alec.
Liam's steps faltered.
What the hell?
He watched as Alec shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his posture screaming anxious. Theo, for his part, looked bored—but Liam knew that face. Theo was never bored. He was observing. Cataloging. Filing away every tiny detail for later use.
Liam's jaw tightened as he approached the driveway.
Theo noticed him first, because of course he did. He always did.
“What's going on?” Liam asked, his voice coming out flatter than he intended. He stopped a few feet from the porch, his hands hanging loose at his sides, his chest still heaving from the run.
“Alec wants to talk to you,” Theo said, his voice flat, eyes locked on Liam, scanning him from head to toe with that clinical, calculating precision that made Liam's skin crawl. Theo shoved his hands deep in his pocket.
Liam's brow raised up. “Me?” The word came out sharper than he meant it to, edged with disbelief.
“Yeah, you,” Alec confirmed, nodding quickly. “Can we talk? Privately?” He added the last part after casting a cautious, side-eyed glance at the Chimera.
Liam blinked. His brain was still sluggish from the run, still tangled in the mess of Theo's indirect dismissal and his own garbled mess of thoughts. But Alec's face was earnest—more earnest than Liam had ever seen it—and something about that made him pause.
He glanced at Theo, who was still watching him with that maddeningly blank expression.
“Sure,” Liam said finally, faking nonchalance while jerking his head back toward the street. “Let's go a few blocks down first. Theo can be pretty invasive.”
Theo's only response was a dry, “Pot calling kettle.”
The Chimera didn’t even bid any goodbye before he turned and disappeared back inside the house, the front door clicking shut behind him. Liam took that as his cue to pivot, setting off down the sidewalk at a brisk walk—a stark contrast to the frantic, blinding sprint he’d been maintaining earlier.
The two of them stayed silent even as they went farther down, intentionally delaying the conversation in case Theo’s enhanced hearing was still within range. Stealing a quick glance at Alec, Liam could easily tell the younger teen was practically hyping himself up, trying to build up the nerve to speak.
They were a few houses down before Alec finally cracked under the pressure.
“Okay, this is a little hard to do when you’re smelling like that,” he admitted with an exasperated huff.
Liam made a face, consciously resisting the urge to sniff his own armpit. He knew he was sweaty but he’s definitely sure he wasn’t smelling, “Like what?”
“Pretty sure you hear this a lot, but…” Alec sighed, gesturing vaguely toward him. “You don’t exactly exude approachability right now. You smell incredibly irritated.”
Liam groaned, squeezing his eyes shut from sheer exhaustion. Was he drained emotionally? Physically? He wasn’t entirely sure anymore, but it was definitely a lethal combination of both. “Can you please not track my chemosignals right now? I already have Theo doing that twenty-four-seven. I would really appreciate it if just one person in my life didn’t treat me like an open children's book.”
Alec shrugged, entirely unapologetic. “It’s kind of hard to miss, man.”
“Why exactly are you here?” Liam asked instead, wanting to change the topic.
Alec blinked from the sudden shift of discussion, realizing why he was here in the first place, his brow furrowed uncomfortably. “Right. So, uh…” He dragged a hand down the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the pavement as they kept walking. “What exactly, you know… you and Theo? What’s the deal with that?”
Liam physically winced.
It’s not a new thing to be questioned about what his relationship with Theo was, he had encountered that question more times than he could count with his fingers. It was more predominantly asked back when the war had just finished, when he fought tooth and nail vouching for Theo’s freedom to the rest of the pack. It had been an awkward, frustrating ordeal—mostly because he and Theo barely even had a relationship at the time.
It’s a tough sell to play character witness for a guy who previously tried to murder both you and your Alpha.
“I dunno,” Liam muttered, “Friends?” He threw the word out like a question mark. He could say that now, right? They were... friends.
Alec gave him this flat look that definitely told Liam he was not buying that bullshit response, it also didn’t help since he was present to see Liam’s outburst from last night at Deaton’s clinic.
Jesus fuck, that was so embarassing.
Liam let out a heavy, exasperated exhale. “Look, I don’t know. It’s complicated,” he said, forcing his legs to keep moving down the pavement. “Honestly, ‘friends’ is the safest label because Theo hasn’t actually denied it.” Not at first, Liam thought but that particular detail definitely didn’t need to be voiced out loud.
“You seemed to mind a lot last night when Deaton asked him to go into that, something theater place,” Alec pointed out, his voice tinged with skepticism.
“Operation Theater,” Liam corrected, “And I had a perfectly valid reason for reacting like that, okay?” He immediately went on the defensive, biting the inside of his cheek. He hesitated, wondering if he should just keep his mouth shut, before deciding it didn’t even matter anymore. Everyone in the pack basically already knew. “He’s… he’s my anchor, alright? And I’m not really in any mood to go through that same shit back at the warehouse again.”
For the second time in less than five minutes, Alec completely halted on the sidewalk and stared at Liam with a look of unexpected surprise, “I’m sorry, what?”
“An anchor,” Liam deadpanned, stopping a few feet ahead of him and turning around. “He’s my anchor.”
“You’re anchor’s a buddhist mantra.” Alec again, pointed out.
“Previously, yeah,” the Beta admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been through a couple of anchors already. He’s just... by far the one that works the best.”
Alec’s face scrunched up, his brain clearly still short-circuiting over the fact. “But Theo’s the one who told—” He cut himself off, pausing mid-sentence to trace his own thoughts before his eyes widened in sudden realization. “Wait. Does he even know he’s your anchor?”
Here we go.
“Initially? No, not really,” Liam said, rolling his shoulders back. “The pack—more specifically, Stiles—advised me to never tell him. You know, just in case he ended up weaponizing it against me. Especially with his track record and all that.” He waved a dismissive hand through the air, trying to make the threat sound like ancient history.
“And now?”
Liam blinked. “What?”
“You said initially,” Alec pointed out, “So what’s the deal now?””
Liam’s gaze dropped down to the pavement. He scrubbed the toe of his sneaker against a patch of loose gravel before forcing himself to look back up at Alec. “I’m not exactly subtle, so he probably already knows,” he muttered. “But we’ve never actually talked about it, so... who knows?”
The second the words left his mouth, Liam’s mind traitorously flooded with vivid flashes of his past few weeks, probably months. Every single explosive outburst he'd had and his multiple attempts at aggressively invading Theo’s personal bubble.
He felt a familiar, blistering heat creep right back up his neck. The memories were so profoundly mortifying he wanted to launch himself headfirst into the nearest telephone pole.
Blinking himself out of his embarrassed spiral, Liam caught sight of Alec. The younger Beta was frowning deeply, staring out at absolutely nothing, entirely consumed by his own heavy thoughts. He looked so tightly wound he was practically vibrating.
“You look constipated,” Liam pointed out bluntly.
The comment effectively shattered Alec’s internal monologue. He blinked once, then twice, before his brain fully processed the insult. “How would you even know? You’ve never seen me take a shit before,” he muttered defensively, though he kept pace as they continued down the sidewalk. He took a breath, his shoulders dropping slightly. “I honestly thought Theo somehow just… favored you or something.”
Liam let out a sharp, incredulous scoff. “He doesn’t favor me,” he countered instantly. “We only live under the same roof out of pure necessity because my control is still total garbage, or whatever the hell Stiles said.” He couldn't quite keep the toxic drop of bitterness out of his tone. “He treats me exactly the same way he treats you.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Yes he does,” Liam insisted, turning his head to throw a sharp look at the younger wolf. “Does he tell you comparing your shit control from me is stupid since I have IED?” The sudden, dead silence that followed from Alec told Liam everything he needed to know.
“Yeah, well, he does the exact same thing to me,” Liam continued, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Just in reverse.” Favor his ass, the guy barely even tolerates driving him to practice every morning. “The only difference in my situation is because he’s my anchor. A biological leash or something”
“You guys are so weird.”
Liam made a face, “Really? That’s your comment? We’re literal werewolves. Weird is a lateral move.”
“Yeah but you made the term ‘Anchors’ into a very complicated situation,” Alec pointed out.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Liam said, “I beg you.”
It's stupidly complicated, and the worst part was that Liam had done this to himself. Every single step of the way, he'd walked right into it with his eyes wide open.
The memory surfaced unbidden—Theo in the preserve, blood soaking through his shirt and wolfsbane poisoning crawling up under his skin like black vines. Liam had kissed him then, hard and desperate, the only method that ever worked for him when the pain was too much. And Theo had kissed back. Had grabbed him. Had held him like he was something precious.
Liam had stupidly let himself even thought that maybe something was there. Something more than what the person Theo stayed for had to offer.
What a fucking idiot.
He thought about all the times he'd inserted himself into Theo's space—the late nights in Theo's room pretending to do homework, the way he'd claimed the passenger seat like it was his birthright, the tantrum he'd thrown when Alec tried to take it. He'd been unconsciously marking territory like a goddamn animal, and Theo had just... let him. Never encouraged it, never pushed him away either. Just that infuriating, blank-faced tolerance that Liam had somehow misread as patience.
As want.
Liam had been so, so fucking stupid.
He thought about the personality inventory—the playlists, the movie marathons, the way Theo had actually sat through The Pianist without complaint. Liam had told himself it meant Theo was opening up. That Theo trusted him enough to be vulnerable. That maybe, maybe, Theo was starting to feel something too.
But Theo was just... figuring himself out. Learning what he liked because he'd never had the chance before. And Liam had conveniently inserted himself into the process, making it about them when it was never about anything other than Theo's own stunted, belated journey toward being a person.
Jesus fuck he’s so childish.
Liam really should stop trying to ask for more than what he’s been given.
“Honestly,” Alec started up again, pulling Liam away from his spiralling thoughts. As much as it annoyed him, the interruption was welcomed, “I didn’t know you had this… major unfinished issue with the guy. Here I thought I was the only one who had no clue where I stood with him.”
“You’re not special, he keeps everyone at arm’s length.”
“Yeah but you’re like… the closest one?” Alec stated with a shrug.
“He’s my anchor, so, made sense.” Liam muttered, before exhaling tiredly, “I really should come clean with that fact. Put a solid label on it or something. He probably already knows anyway, might as well make it official.”
It’s going to be an awful conversation.