Thomas looks better than yesterday. Way better.

The dark circles have faded after this night of real rest. He won't be energetic today, I can already sense that, but it'll do.

I woke up around thirty past seven. My biological clock just says 'no' every time I try to sleep in. Thomas is in fact still asleep. It's ten AM.

I don't feel like getting up yet. After scrolling through my phone a bit and glancing around his unchanged room, I find myself watching him as he sleeps. It's a little weird, yet I can't help it.

He's just so... I don't know, nice to look at. He's lying on his back, head tilted to the side a bit. We forgot to move the curtains, so the sun is shining straight into the room. It casts a glowy look that illuminates onto him.

It shows off his silhouette. The sunlight highlights the perfect curve of his nose, the hair of which a few are always matted to his forehead, and the soft parting of his lips. He's serene. Freaking perfect.

The buzz of my phone forces my eyes to rip away from him.

Maybe that's good.

Indie

Hi pooks
I've canceled the appointment with my only client today. Currently at the store. What can I get for y'all? How's Thomas?

He's still asleep, but I doubt he will be for any longer. I think he'll get through the day.

That's amazing to hear. You won't mind keeping him some company, will you? Will work better than me.

Yeah, I don't mind
Btw, doesn't really matter what you get. Something we like

Croissants will do. Orange juice?

Sounds great. See you in a minute!

I look at Thomas again. He has began to shift. The sun is currently right in his face. I'll close the curtains before he loses any sleep.

The bed squeaks as I get up. I cringe, cast a look at him, then tiptoe over to the window. Some dust lands in my nose when the material moves. A cough escapes from me before I shake my head. When was the last time he cleaned his window?

Quietly, I make my way downstairs. Grab a duster from below the sink. Walk back upstairs.

"Morning."

Instinctively, I hurl the duster towards the voice. It sails through the air, striking him in the chest.

"Woah." More surprised than hurt, he looks down at the duster.

"Could've been your head," I reply. "Don't scare me like that."

"I greeted you."

"No. You were suddenly standing there."

"It's my room."

"Yes, but— whatever!" I throw my hands in the air. "Don't be extra."

He chuckles below his breath, a little bemused. 

I guess throwing dusters at him makes him feel better?

"Sorry about it, though," I add. "Anyway— how're you feeling?"

"Don't remind me of anything, please." With a groan, he throws his head back.

"Your mom's getting us breakfast right now. Have you slept enough?"

He nods. "Why the duster?"

"There's dust lying around everywhere in your room."

Thomas takes a few things out of his closet before he walks over to the bathroom. "Alright, mother Sage. I think I'm going on a run with Mango. Will clear my mind."

"Alright." I nod.

He vanishes into his bathroom to get ready, and I start dusting everything off. Once the sneezing gets too much, I open his window. Then I make his bed.

Damnit. Once I start cleaning, I can't unsee the little things. Every piece of clothing on the floor or tiny stains on surfaces. I clean all of it.

It surprises me that I'm finished before he has even left the bathroom.

"I didn't touch your stuff," I say the second he walks in. "Well, I did, but nothing private. Just your clothes."

He looks around his room. Surprise makes him unable to move for a second.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, it's nice." A smile touches his lips. "I'd be crazy to complain about someone cleaning my room."

"Yes, alright." I stare at the duster in my hands, cheeks burning. He's dressed in the white tank top once again. His voice is still a bit cracky from the night of sleep. He won't take his eyes off me.

He clears his throat. "So, you wanna come with?"

"Huh?"

"With me and Mango. On a run."

"No, thanks," I mutter. "I'll set the table and get ready for the day." A short pause in which I swallow. "Are you sure you're alright? You were in the bathroom for a while."

"Fine," he replies. "Mr. Ross sent me an email and I just... hesitated."

I raise an eyebrow. With a sigh, he hands me his phone.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Memorial Mr. Keller
October 10th, 9:33 AM.

Hello Thomas,

I hope this message finds you well.

I am writing to you to inform you that our school will be holding a memorial service this Friday at 2:00 PM to honor the memory of our beloved Physical Education teacher, Mr. Albert Keller. Students have the option to attend or to be excused from this event, as the attendance is voluntary.

Given your close relationship with Mr. Keller, I believe you would be a fitting person to deliver a brief speech in his honor. We understand that this may be challenging, and there is no obligation for you to accept this responsibility. Your participation will be deeply appreciated, but please feel no pressure to do so.

We recognize that this message comes with short notice and understand it may be too soon.

We look forward to your response.

Sincerely,
Principal Edgar Ross

I look up at Thomas after reading it. "It's Thursday today. Indeed, short notice."

"Yeah." His Adam's apple moves. "I wasn't really sure what to reply. I mean... I don't feel like standing in front of a whole crowd like that. Not in front of students who probably don't appreciate him."

"What did you reply?"

He hands me the phone back.

Dear principal Ross,

Thank you for considering me to speak at Mr. Keller's memorial. It means a lot that you thought of me for this.

However, I have to be honest— it's still really fresh to me and I don't think I'm ready to give a speech just yet. I'm still proceeding everything and speaking in front of people feels overwhelming right now.

I'd still love to be involved and help in any other way. If there's something else I can do to contribute, please let me know. Mr. Keller meant a lot to me, and I want to honor him in any way I can.

Thanks again for understanding.

Sincerely,
Thomas Reyes

"That's well-written," I say. "Good job."

He shrugs a bit. "Yeah, I... thanks. I wasn't sure what to do."

"This is perfect," I assure him. As I hand him the phone again, I squeeze his arm.

"Thank you," he repeats. Then suddenly his arms are around me and I'm taken by surprise. "It means a lot. Just your presence does."

A smile grows onto my face. "I'm glad to hear that."

He nods. For a second, his body language tells me he's about to cry. The way his face buries itself in my shoulder. How his grip tightens a bit. The sound of his breath.

But then he lets go, lips pursed together. "I'll be back soon."

"Yes, alright." I try to swallow the lump in my throat away. It doesn't work until I cough a bit.

Then silence erupts.

And then it gets interrupted by my phone.

It's thirty past ten. That's when my phone is no longer on silent mode; I've got this automatic thing.

Minho's calling.

"Yes?"

"WHERE THE ACTUAL FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" I nearly throw my phone across the room when he starts yelling, not even pissed, not even that worried, just... dramatic. "I SWEAR, FINN WAS ABOUT TO KILL ME. ARIS IS EVEN MORE TRAUMATIZED NOW. NOT EVEN MOM AND DAD KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. SO WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHY AREN'T YOU AT SCHOOL?"

"I'm at Thomas's," I say slowly.

"Is he a CHEATER?"

"What? No. And stop yelling," I say. "He needs some support. He and Teresa broke up."

"WERE YOU THE CAUSE?"

I groan. "Stop. Freaking. Yelling! And no."

"DID YOU— wait." I hear him cough. "Did you spend the night at his?"

"Yes."

"In the same bed?"

"Yes. He needed support."

"Sexually?"

"Jeez, no. Shut up. Not everything has to be like that."

"Okay, alright. Whatever," he says. "Did anything happen?"

"Have you heard any of the things I said? Teresa broke up with him, and he saw his favorite teacher dead, Minho. The last thing he's thinking about is me, and especially the ways you describe. He needs support. You should also come give it to him."

I think it now really gets through his head. "What the fuck. Why the hell would she do that?"

"No longer interested," I say. "Not in just him, at least."

"That's kinda messed up."

"Yeah, and she's moving away."

"Oh, that's good. He won't be reminded of her."

"I guess," I say. "But it's still sad. Like, it was so out of nowhere. I swear they were happy not even two days ago. And on the same day as Mr. Keller is horrible— oh, shit. I don't know if I'm even allowed to tell you about this whole situation with Teresa."

"I won't tell anyone," he promises. "Where is he now?"

"On a run with Mango. I'm about to set the table."

"Of course, Momiette." He pauses. "Will you be home tonight? Because if you're not, then Finn won't have to share with you."

"So does that mean you want me to come home or you want me to stay away?"

"Come home, for god's sake. I miss you."

I smile again. My joy is hearable in my voice. "Yes, alright. But I'll stick with Thomas for the rest of the day. Help him with everything."

"So sad about how that breakup went," Minho starts.

Oh, no. I can tell by his voice he's going to add something ridiculous to this.

"Thomas deserves someone better, doesn't he?" Minho wonders out loud, then he chuckles, and then he hangs up.

Wow, Minho. Wow.