I'm afraid to blink.
But when I do, I'm still here and Theo is still sitting opposite me, tense and afraid.
"What do I do?" he whispers.
I look down at my wrists and let myself be relieved. Then I look back into his eyes.
"Go down there and talk to him. Tell him everything you've told me. Just talk to him, Theo. That's how you deal with anything."
He stares at an old sock on the floor, unable to look at me.
I take his hand and squeeze it. "Talk to him. Now, or you might never."
Theo squeezes my hand back, almost fiercely, but won't look at me. "What if... what if talking to him means that you..."
That I'll be gone?
"I'll be right here," I say, trying to sound as sure as possible. "I'll be right there. Go say what you need to say."
Finally, he nods. He stands, pushing a hand through his hair, and tramples down the stairs with me in his wake. I linger on the threshold of the door as he passes through it, leaning out enough so I can see what's going on but hiding enough so the likelihood of me being seen is even lower.
Georgia's standing by the door, holding a suitcase and man's coat and looking both apprehensive and pissed off. Theo's now standing in the middle of the room, twisting his fingers into the strings of his hoodie. And the man I assume is his father is standing near the living room door, shaking droplets of rain out of his short, dark hair.
He's strikingly familiar to me: in his eye shape, body type and high cheekbones all belong to Theo but he is separated from him by his paler skin and general posture; while Theo stands like somebody who wishes to be hidden, this man holds himself in a way that demands everybody in the room look at him.
The father finishes inspecting the main room and latches his eyes onto Theo. Immediately, his mouth slides into a grin. He crosses the room in three strides and envelops his son in a hug, likely not noticing how Theo tenses and wriggles away as soon as possible.
"Charles! It's been too long!" he says brightly. "How have you been?"
"...Good."
"Tell me all about it!" his father says, looking around the sitting room again as he speaks instead of his son. Theo takes the opportunity to throw a glance over his shoulder at me. I do my best to smile. "I've missed you, son."
Theo's expression hardens with resolve and he turns his head to look back at his father. "Dad, I want to talk to you."
"Is this about you slamming the phone on me? Well, it's no worry. I can imagine you were a little bit-"
"No, Dad. I mean I want to talk to you about everything. I want to sit down and talk and I want you to listen to me."
I grin. That's it, Theo. Fucking tell him.
The father looks down at the son. "I just got back, Charles-"
"...Please, Dad. It'll only be a few minutes. Please. I just want you to listen to me."
Sighing, the dad turns around to look at Georgia. "You can go home. I'll call you when it's time for you to make dinner."
Georgia doesn't budge. Her eyes flick to Theo.
"Georgia."
Finally, smiling sweetly with her mouth only, she turns her back and walks towards the front door. It opens and closes but I don't hear feet on the gravel outside.
Theo walks into the kitchen, staring at his shoes. His father follows, running a finger along the meticulously clean walls and rubbing it against his thumb to check for dust. Tutting, he wipes his hand on the breast pocket of his suit and follows his son into the dining room.
Again, I follow, remaining just out of sight.
Theo sits at the table, pushing his fingers through his hair. The strings of his hoodie are a slobbery mess, worn down to threads where they've been chewed.
"I want you to stop going on those work trips," he says quietly, the second his father sits down at the head of the table. He doesn't look at his father, his eyes flicking up only to glance at me.
The man blinks. He's all sharp edges, I notice, down to the lapels of his suit. "It's my job, Theo. I know you don't like those trips - I don't either! - but it's where my work is. And I have to work, son, so I can put food on this table and you can have all those nice things you ask for." Theo glances at me before answering. "There are branches in England. I've checked on the internet. And even if you can't bear England, there's always Scotland or Ireland or Wales or wherever. Somewhere near home. At least you won't be gone for three months if you work closer."
Three flipping months?
He's left his son alone in this huge house for three fucking months?
"Yes, son, there's branches in England." Theo's dad shakes his head, smiling condescendingly. "But I don't decide where I work! I know you can't understand what it's like to do my job, Charles, or any job for that matter, but real life's not all reading and movies like I let you pretend it is. The outside world is hard, son, and the sooner you accept that the sooner you'll have your own income."
Theo looks into his dad's eyes, mouth open to speak. As soon as he makes eye contact, he closes it.
"Is that all, Charles?" He pats his son on the shoulder. "I'm really tired. I just got back from a very long flight and I want to go to bed-"
He's standing right in the middle of his sentence, already heading for the door and, consequently, me.
"I miss you so much when you're not here," Theo says, freezing his father in his tracks. "I'm always alone. Georgia is great and I love her-"
At this, the father frowns. He takes a single step back towards his son.
"-but she's... not my mum. You're the only family I've got but you're hardly here, either! And I'm sick of missing you when you're not here and constantly watching my step, pretending to be something I'm not, when you are. I'm either alone or walking on eggshells." Theo looks into his father's eyes, dark brown on hazel. He looks both afraid and hopeful, like he wants to become best friends with a dog that has a reputation for biting. "What do you mean 'watching your step'?" Theo's head darts back down. "...Nothing." "It doesn't sound like nothing." "I just... I feel like I have to shape my existence around what you've decided I should be. That's all. Quiet when you're angry, smiling on command, the perfect son when it's time for the world to see." His dad sighs. "That's called consideration, Charles. It's putting other people's needs before your own."
"Then why don't you do the same for me?" he mumbles.
"What was that?"
This time, he almost yells it. "Then why don't you do that for me?"
His father's eye twitches. "I don't like your tone, Theo."
"Well, I don't like who you want me to be!" Theo stands, hands bracing against the polished wood of the table, matching his father's gaze again. His eyes have a hard sheen. "Why don't you care about what I want and what I feel? Why do you always leave me in this stupid house while you go live your life around the world? Why don't we talk about my mum? Why can't you be here for her birthday? Or mine, but I don't care about that." He looks down at his hands, breathing heavily. "I just want you to be here, Dad. I want to talk to you. About my mum. About everything. And I want to feel okay doing it."
His dad looks tense. "We're talking now. Just like you wanted."
"Then let's talk properly. That's what I want. Why don't we ever talk about Mum? Ever? I know she's your wife but she's my mother. She is - was - my best friend and the best person in the world, but now you seize up if I so much as bring up how we used to go to the park together!"
"Because it's not easy-" his father hisses. He stops, clears his throat, and starts again. "This isn't a conversation I want to be having right now, Charles. You're being dramatic. We can finish this discussion once you've calmed down. I want to go upstairs and take a shower and go to bed."
He starts to walk away and Theo grabs his sleeve. He gets shaken off but latches on again immediately after.
"Okay," Theo says. His eyes are bright and steely with anger and hurt. They flicker to me and soften briefly.
I smile at him.
"While you were away, Dad," Theo says, still holding firmly onto the sleeve of the man in question. "I met someone. Some
one I care about a lot."
"You... you've met someone."
"Yes. I've met someone. And I'm going to ask him to be my boyfriend."
I stumble. I actually fucking stumble and I have to grab onto the wall so I don't fall on my ass.
Holy. Shit.
(It's me. It must be me.)
His father mutters something under his breath.
"...What was that, Dad?" Theo asks. He slowly lets go of his father's sleeve.
"No, you're not," the man repeats. "You're not going to get a... boyfriend." He spits the word out like it's choking him.
Theo stiffens. "Why not?"
"Because I fucking said so!" he yells.
Theo stumbles back. His hip hits the table.
Oh, God. Oh, God, I told him to do this. I told him to do this and if it goes wrong it's all my fault. I step forward but catch his eye and he shakes his head subtly. So I stay put.
His dad is breathing heavily, looking down at his son. Sharp and cold and terrifying.
Theo, my Theo, stands tall. He's almost the same height as his father - there's barely an inch between them - and he doesn't back down as he glares into his eyes.
"Would you let me ask him out if he was a girl?" he whispers.
They stare at each other for a while. Then Theo's dad backs up, running a hand over his eyes. When he looks up, I can't tell what he's thinking. His expression is furious but his eyes are sad and look far older than the rest of his face.
I want to stand between them.
If things get worse, I will.
"I would, Charles." His father says. Theo's eyes well up and this only seems to fuel him. "Yes, I would. You know why? Because it's right and it's normal. And that's what gays aren't. They're wrong. They're rapi-"
I step forward with my hands in fists and fuck him being Theo's dad, I want to hurt him like I hurt Jack (and him) but before I get there something smacks into my shoulder and I stumble and when I look up Georgia's standing between Theo and his father, holding him back and standing on tiptoes and looking him in the eyes-
"Shut up," she snarls. She pushes him a little and Theo's dad stumbles back into one of the chairs, more from shock than anything. "That's enough, Mr Lewis. Look at me. Don't you dare talk to your son like that. Don't you ever speak to Theo in that way, because if you do I'll make sure you never see him again."
Lewis.
It can't be.
Right now, I don't care.
I run forward and pull Theo back, wrapping one arm around his and the other around his waist. He refuses to move, rooted to the spot like a statue.
"You have no right to preach to me," his dad snarls, stepping out of Georgia's reach. "You can leave. If you don't, I'm going to call the police. I'm not employing somebody who comes into my house when told to leave and gets involved in my private matters. So go!" This time, it's me who steps in. Theo's dad looks up, noticing me for the first time. He blanches and grips the back of one of the chairs, mouthing something that I don't hear over the blood pounding in my ears.
"Don't you dare talk to him like that," I say quietly. "Or either of them. Don't say who he is is wrong. There's nothing wrong with Theo or me or anyone like us. Do you understand?"
A hand closes around mine, pulling it out of the fist. Theo links his fingers with my own and pulls me back gently. His father looks at our intertwined fingers and his mouth falls open. And he mouths my name.
"Evan."
Theo steps in front of me and Georgia, still clutching my hand like a lifeline.
"I'm going," he says. His hand grips mine even tighter. "Whether or not I come back is up to you." A tear runs down his cheek but he doesn't wipe it away. "And I just want you to know that I'll always be your son. It's up to you to decide whether or not you want to be my dad."
And with that, Theo and I hand in hand, the three of us walk out. A crash sounds from inside of the house.
The three of us flinch simultaneously, which might be funny in any other situation. As soon as we get to the bottom of the drive, Georgia claps a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob. Theo puts his free arm around her awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," she mutters, hugging him back briefly before stepping away. She shakes her head, seemingly embarrassed. "It's just... that was intense. But no matter about me. This isn't about me. How are you, Theo? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he says, looking so small. I squeeze his hand and he reciprocate gratefully. "Thank you for sticking up for me. I'm sorry you lost your job because of me."
Georgia shakes her head rapidly. "Fuck the job. Nobody's allowed to speak to you like that, especially not your father. Nobody should be allowed to talk to anybody like that."
Theo sniffs. "Are you gonna go home?"
Georgia nods. "Better dig out my CV." She squeezes Theo's shoulder. "You know where it is. If that cu- I mean, if your dad causes any trouble, I'm sure I can spare you a bit of sofa. And the spare key's still under the plant pot."
"Thanks, Georgia."
"Anytime, kid." She presses a kiss to his curls and walks down the driveway, wiping her eyes.
Theo turns to me. His eyes are overflowing and his hand shakes in mine. I bite my lip and use my spare thumb to wipe the tears away. Theo catches my wrist for a second, holding my palm against his cheek briefly before he lets me go. I immediately feel warmer.
"I'm sorry. I feel like it's my fault it all blew off at one. I'm not... very good with family matters."
Theo shakes his head. "It all had to be said. Better late than never."
"What now?" I ask quietly.
It's so many questions and so many answers.