Page 59
Orien moves through the apartment, turning off lights and checking locks. Darkness settles over the room. A moment later, the mattress dips beneath his weight.
Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watch as Orien removes his outer clothes. First, his jacket, which he folds and sets on the chair by my desk. His shoes follow. His shirt and pants stay on, though. He removes only enough to be comfortable before settling onto the mattress again.
“Move over,” he says, careful not to disturb the fragile calm that has settled over the room.
I shift toward the wall, leaving space for him beside me, and Orien stretches out on top of the comforter, careful to leave space between us. He unfolds the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulls it over us both with a single, smooth motion.
The blanket is warm, the weight of it comforting as it settles over us. Orien lies on his back, one arm bent behind his head, the other resting at his side, close enough for me to reach out if I want to.
I don’t. I just lie there, watching him from the corner of my eye, the stuffed fox a barrier between us.
The silence stretches, not quite comfortable but not tense, either. Just waiting, patient, giving me space to find my voice again.
When I finally speak, the words come out as a rasp. “You don’t have to stay.”
Orien turns toward me, steady as ever. “I know.”
“Then why are you?”
He considers the question with the same careful attention he gives everything. “Because you asked me to.” His hand finds mine beneath the blanket, fingers warm as they curl around my palm. “And because I want to.”
I inch closer, my body seeking his warmth, and Orien releases my hand to slide his arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer until my head rests on his chest, the stuffed fox half on top of him.
“Try to sleep.” Lips graze the top of my head. “I’ve got you.”
I listen to his heartbeat and the slow cadence of his breathing. For a few moments, it works. But each time I drift toward sleep, images flash behind my eyelids, and I jerk back to consciousness with my heart racing.
After the third time, Orien’s hand finds my hair, fingers gentle as they brush through the damp strands. “Can’t sleep?”
I shake my head against his chest. “Every time I close my eyes…”
Orien pulls out his phone, and the screen lights up the darkened room with a soft blue glow. “Here, check this out.”
The screen shows a video of a fox, a flash of red racing across the snow before it pounces on something out of frame. The camera zooms in as the fox lifts its head, a mouse dangling from its jaws. The fox shakes it violently before swallowing it whole.
I blink. “Did you just show me a fox eating a mouse?”
“Give it a second,” Orien says, already swiping to a new video.
This one shows a fox playing with a plastic bottle, batting it back and forth with its paws before picking it up in its mouth and shaking it with ridiculous enthusiasm. The camera shakes with what must be the cameraperson’s laughter, and the fox freezes, bottle still in its mouth, to stare directly at the lens with offended dignity.
“That’s you with the corn dog,” Orien deadpans. “Exactly the same expression.”
A surprised laugh escapes before I can stop it. “I did not look like that.”
“You absolutely did.” He swipes to another video. “This one’s my favorite.”
The new video shows a fox standing on its hind legs, paws planted on a glass door as it peers inside with desperate longing. The caption reads, “When you see the last slice of pizza.”
“I don’t—” I start, but stop when the fox’s high, plaintive whine sounds exactly like the noise I made when Orien took the last bite of my cotton candy. “Oh, my god.”
Orien’s chest vibrates with a silent laugh. “Told you.”
He swipes to another video, then another, each one featuring a fox doing something ridiculous or adorable or both. Orien’s dry commentary grows more elaborate with each one, until I’m laughing so hard my ribs ache, and tears stream down my cheeks. It’s too much, the release of tension after hours of fear and shock, and I bury my face in Orien’s chest to muffle the sound.
His arm tightens around me, holding me close as the laughter turns to tears, then back again, until I’m not sure if I’m laughing or crying or both.
And through it all, Orien holds me.
