Small Stars

“This,” Theo announced. “Is going to be our greatest adventure yet.”

He wouldn’t make Fen sad by saying it, but Theo always loved the Theo-adventures more than the Fen-adventures. Fen-adventures didn’t get them money, or food, or anything to cover up with on cold nights (aka every night). Theo-adventures did all of those things and got them doing stuff like rooftop-running, skateboarding (Fen was learning fast with that), and making grown-ups and kids alike come up with the funniest angry talk. Fen still didn’t see the comedic gold in people’s heads exploding, though, which was where Theo had failed most with him. He had to remind himself that not all kids are as switched-on as he was. Eventually, Fen’s sense of humor would evolve.

“How can a scary adventure be great?” Fen asked, hugging his knees and already wishing they were back with their boxes and blankets in their alley. Right – Theo had used that word when pitching this heist to Fen, forgetting how the guy wouldn’t let go of him for an entire day after reading a book Theo brought about werewolves. Setting that book on fire made the terror go away, but then it was replaced by Fen sniffling over how the werewolf couldn’t be turned into a friend. And it being a pitch-black night now couldn’t be making things easier for him.

“Relax, little man.” Theo grinned, a real grin because Fen went from antsy to pouting in a second. His brother, this clingy, dopey koala, stuck in the light-haired, starry-eyed body of a human boy, was criminally cute when he blushed. “What I meant was that it’s scary for the people working in that building.”

“But if we’re going in, won’t it be scary for us, too?”

“Nah, because we’re not cursed enough to be employees.”

“Cursed?” Crap, he was thinking about werewolves again.

“Not a moon kind of curse!” Theo was going to take it easy. He was. But he’d spied on the towering, tyrannizing block that awaited them long enough. Overheard more than enough words from departing workers. Stared into rows on top of rows of harsh, burning white lights, each window forming its own little prison cell. Seen stupid, miserable, ugly grown-ups tortured day-and-night in it without a hope of release, and the glee that overtook him could not be restrained.

“In that place,” He said, gently lifting Fen to his feet and wrapping a tight arm around his shoulders. “They have to work until their eyes bleed. They have to work until their fingers crack. They have to work until they forget what it’s like to do…whatever it is grown-ups do at home!”

“But why?” Fen cried, his misplaced care for grown-ups (and everything with a pulse) fuelling Theo’s grinning tirade further.

“Because the bosses who run that place? They believe working overtime makes you human.” He said the last three words in a deliberately pompous voice, drenched in grown-up stupidity. Sadly, Fen didn’t laugh. “And if anyone doesn’t work overtime? They’ll kill those slackers.”

“No!”

“That’s right! Put a bullet through their dumb heads! Or worse! The Crimson Knight gets them!”

And the grinning stopped. Theo had started talking in the direction of the building, as if the prisoners inside could hear him gloating and taunting them over their fate. He hadn’t seen, until now, Fen covering his ears, his eyes shut like he could squeeze out what Theo had put into his head.

Composing himself and swallowing down a mangled mixture of feelings, Theo made sure to be easy in pulling Fen’s hands down. “I won’t say anymore. Especially about the Knight.”

Fen nodded, his watery eyes immediately trusting the brother who’d scared him, and not for the first time. Theo had to swallow down again. “What matters is, there’s only one grown-up in there tonight. As long as we avoid her, we can get in there, take as much food as we can, maybe coins if we find any, and scram.”

“Won’t cameras spot us?”

Theo was impressed. Fen was getting smarter with his understanding of how grown-ups worked. “Nah. They’ve been busted for a while. I heard they’re rationing power in that place, so only a few things are working besides the lights. They think they’re too small for anyone to bother robbing them.” He started snickering. Grown-ups were truly ridiculous.

Fen mulled it all over, his hands fidgeting with each other in a way that told Theo he was contemplating asking for his daily hug. Fen was nothing but precious to Theo, he was, but he called the guy a koala for a reason. There were only so many mornings he could wake up with Fen on top of him before he established a rule that gave Fen permission to hug him once a day.

“Can we ask the stars to keep us safe before we go in?”

As far as Theo was concerned, stars were useless blobs of light that did nothing but hang around staring at you from a million miles away. Gazing up at them with Fen was the only nice thing he could associate with the slackers. Besides, Theo had stuffed three knives into the pockets of his weary coat. That was all he needed if they were spotted. But he’d tried convincing Fen that stars didn’t care whether you gave them names or applied good things to them, and that was about as hopeless as telling Fen that those books, where heroes turn a dark world light, don’t teach you a thing about reality. So, he let Fen ask the stars. Then watched as Fen pulled out and fiddled with a little star of his own. Something made of yellow wool with sweet black dots for eyes, tired and torn, but intact enough to become Fen’s best friend.

With a roll of his eyes and a warm remembrance of the night he got that thing for Fen, Theo was ready.

The way in was simple. Climb the pipes up the neighbouring block, some bar nobody went to, until they were on the flat roof, high enough to reach their target’s second floor. After that was a flawless plan to break the window so they could crawl in. Theo had mulled this particular part over in his head for days, weighing all his options, slowly approaching mastery in breaking-and-entering and reaching it when the solution finally dawned upon him.

He smashed the window in with the bat he’d strapped to his back. Ten hits did the trick. For some reason, once they were inside, Fen was looking at him like he was seriously tempted to go find a new brother.

For a prison, it was incredibly boring. Theo could only see so much from where he’d been spying, and the impressions he’d got from eavesdropping on departing workers had crafted a place riddled with knives and blood and diseases. While Theo had plenty of knives on him, this buzzing house of nothingness didn’t. What puzzled him – and Fen, too – was how everything was arranged in an obvious attempt at order, while simultaneously being the furthest thing from order. The glaring lights were covering everything in a white so harsh, it took a while for Theo’s eyes to stop hurting. And they wouldn’t stop making this buzzing noise, or having these episodes where they flickered on-and-off so much Theo nearly lost his footing. The place was warm, sheltered from the biting winds outside, but had an awful smell, the kind of smell that grown-ups liked snidely telling Theo and Fen they had. Like nobody working here had washed in days and left their stink in their chairs. You could walk, but barely move without bumping into white plastic fencing around computers, or into chairs, or into some mountain of papers.

Theo decided it was smarter to start from the bottom floor, then climb their way to the top. They took the stairs - couldn’t risk taking the elevator in case the doors opened to reveal the solitary worker.

From the start of the scavenging, the rooms that weren’t suffocating weren’t much nicer. They were wide, tall and empty, designed to make kids like them feel small and scrawny. Well, the joke was on grown-ups. Theo was going to feed Fen until he was big enough to crush anything that looked at him funny. If he could make Fen see why some people needed crushing.

They found a vending machine. Before Theo could whip out the bat, Fen grabbed him.

“Don’t you think we could try talking to it first?” Fen had to know that was the dumbest thing Theo had ever heard, judging by his shaky smile.

“Yeah, talk to something that’s not alive. Fantastic.”

“Maybe…” Fen walked over to it and jumped up, tapping a couple numbers. Theo looked – it would’ve released a candy bar with the most robotic-looking picture of a strawberry on its wrapping.

The hoarding jerk made a buzzing noise and white text scrolled across the pad Fen had pressed. Please present E.T.E.R.N employee card to receive refreshments.

“Oh, I saw one of those!” Fen jumped up in that little way he did whenever excitement struck him.

Theo took his hand off the bat. “You did? Awesome! Flash it and we’ll-”

“I said saw. Not take.”

Theo’s face met Theo’s hand. “Why didn’t you take it?”

“I didn’t think Timothy Drake would like it if I stole a card with his face on it.”

Smash went the weasel.

They ended up munching their way to the second, third and fourth floors. The candy, crisps and whatever those “protein bars” had the taste of…it took Theo back to the time he’d gotten what he thought was a sweet haul. Four takeout burgers for one very stupid grown-up who’d zoned out smoking while Theo swiped them off the table outside the restaurant. He’d given three to Fen, only taking the last one in full instead of half because he lost an argument with Fen over whether Theo was going through “hunger pains.” What transpired in both brothers’ mouths that night was both euphorically fulfilling and depressingly emptying. A ritual leaving them full and starving at the same time. Future heists were considered to see if all the restaurants’ food possessed such quality, but it was wisely decided against. That, in miniature pieces, was what Theo and Fen were eating now.

They stuffed what was left in their pockets once they reached the fourth floor, where something left Theo hovering a hand over his most trusted knife. He had to shush Fen to hear it properly. It was faint, relentless and so far away from what Theo considered normal sound, that for a moment, he realized exactly what Fen felt when thinking about werewolves eating him. Wherever it was coming from, the source was loud and nearly violent with the force of its cries. It was some kind of crying, Theo thought the more he listened, but whoever was making it wasn’t human. Couldn’t be.

“Is it the Knight?” Fen whispered, his hand starting to squeeze Theo’s arm.

Theo smiled as wide as he possibly could. “No. No. The Knight makes way more noise coming in places like this.” That’s what he hoped. What he knew was that the Knight could be quieter than a mouse. That he would rather throw himself into the sun than let it touch Fen. Panic did not make for fruitful adventures, so Theo decided he’d make up his mind if they got close enough to be sure what the sound was.

Fifth floor. Then the sixth floor. No more vending machines, still no other sign of food. Or water. The machine didn’t even have water - what kind of sicko makes someone work without water? Do they have to bring their own? That’s what Theo assumed, that some grown-ups, being grown-ups, were too tired to remember their own stuff when finally allowed to leave. Now he was feeling stupid. His gamble had gotten them a bad trip back in time, and it was dragging them to a noise that had gotten scarier for all the wrong reasons.

It was absolutely crying. Wailing, almost. Theo didn’t have a clue who was making it, only that it still wasn’t human. But it wasn’t the Crimson Knight. Couldn’t be. It was too real. And that’s what was making his every step slower than the last. Grown-ups didn’t hurt. Not the way he hurt. They pretended to be hurt so they could stomp all over you again. And again. And again. Until you want to climb out of your own skin, out of your own house, out into streets with no one who knows your name, no one who could do a thing for you, the only person you’re safe with is-

“Theo?” He hadn’t felt Fen take his hand, hadn’t seen him rubbing his palm with both his thumbs. His brother’s eyes were starting to turn into the only real light this prison had. “You were breathing funny again.”

Sweat came, sharply, down his neck. “What do you mean again?”

Fen flinched, nearly letting go. “Sometimes you look like you’re having a bad dream even though you’re awake.”

He’d had enough bad dreams. He loathed letting them into his waking life and wanted to smash his fist into the walls, now that a slither of them had been exposing itself to Fen. But he took a breath, held it tight inside, and stayed himself.

“Sorry. That crying’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Me too.” Fen said, for obviously different reasons. “She sounds so sad.”

She? Oh, of course it was the one worker here tonight. Who else could it have been?

“Forget her. Let’s do every corner, then call it a night.”

He should not have turned his back on Fen. He’d thought he would follow orders because yes, he gave Fen the reins sometimes, but he was in charge during Theo-adventures, and Fen loved him enough to do as he was told. But he knew Fen. Knew that he didn’t need someone to do a single damn thing for him before he started acting like their sobbing was…like he wouldn’t have let the world exist if it meant someone was going to cry like that in it.

He went exactly where the crying was loudest, to a gray door with nothing but a name Theo couldn’t be bothered to read. And tapped. The shriek that came from it was what alerted Theo to where Fen was and what was about to happen.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make so much noise! It won’t happen again! I’m working, I promise! I promise! Please don’t…I promise I’m being human! I’m being human!”

The voice, bordering on delirious with how desperate it was to convince a boy she’d mistaken for her boss, was mad enough to stop Theo from hissing at Fen for his idiocy. Sounds of ruffled papers, rapid typing, and manic scrawling sprang out from behind the door.

Theo was going to tell Fen off, to say they were leaving right now, but Fen had to use the eyes. Those stupid eyes. The worst part was, Fen never intended them to be manipulative. If he did, they wouldn’t have had a chance of working on him. Without a word, he was telling Theo that, if he dragged him away, he’d never blame him. All his sorrow would be for the grown-up behind the door. Someone whose face he’d never seen. Theo felt his skin on fire, ready to explode, to scream that nobody deserved a shred of the kind of person Fen was, to tell him that the nicest way he’d have his dreams crushed was by Theo himself because at least Theo didn’t want to rob him or stomp on him.

Instead, Theo agreed on the one condition he could throw knives if she made a single wrong move.

The door didn’t need a key or anything. Easier for the boss, Theo guessed. Inside was a room so small, it was a miracle it fit the literal children, let alone the grown woman frozen in her gray, tattered chair, staring at the two of them like they’d taken her ability to breathe.

Theo had seen messy grown-ups before. This was a woman who couldn’t have been that old, despite her hair, draped down her right shoulder, having locks the colour of old-people-hair. There were these weird black rings under her eyes, which were so red, Theo wondered if this was a blood-drinking vampire rather than a Knight. Her hands were shaking harder than his own had been minutes ago. By the time it took anyone to say anything, Theo was tempted to dismiss himself and Fen as hallucinations and leave.

“Oh, you’re just children.” She said in a massive exhale, her trembling not slowing in the slightest. Suddenly, as if she’d forgotten something crucial, she seized a small piece of paper from her desk, crumbled it with utter ferocity and chucked it at a tiny metal bin. It bounced off the top, rolling right by the door they’d come through. She visibly considered getting it, then chose to focus on the visitors. “How did you get in here?”

“Bat.” Theo said, putting on a smirk.

“We’re sorry.” Fen said, keeping close to Theo. “We broke in because we were hungry.”

“I’m not sorry.” Theo went on, looking down to make sure the knives were well-hidden in the pockets. “Smashing windows is fun.”

He didn’t meet Fen’s brief, reprimanding stare. Couldn’t afford to break the tension by laughing at his little brother’s assumption of authority (as if Theo hadn’t just done something he never wanted to do because of the way Fen looked at him).

She turned to the glass wall overlooking them all. Small as it was, it offered a sort-of view into the city and the night. All the parts were smudgy, like bare hands had worked to blot out the view. Only the highest parts, where grown-ups couldn’t reach without a ladder, had a completely clear sight to offer.

“Management always warns us about kids like you.” Her voice was dry, croaked, devoid of anything resembling a threat. Still enough for Theo’s fingers to touch the knife’s hilt.

“Don’t worry.” She said, as if she could read his mind without looking him in the eye. “I’m not calling anyone. Sorry, but I don’t have anything for you and I’m very busy.” Slowly, she pulled herself back to her computer. Her movements were almost as horrible as her cries – not human.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Theo said, eyes narrowed at her. “Your ‘management’ would eat you if you let kids like us get away with this.”

“Cameras are busted.” She replied, not turning to them. “They said I’m responsible for this floor. As long as you didn’t break anything up here, I’m okay.”

“You didn’t sound okay.” Fen mumbled.

Now she did turn to them. A little red was in her cheeks and her eyes briefly bulged in shock. “Sorry. Nobody was supposed to hear that. With the cameras broke, I thought it was safe.”

“Are you okay?” Straight to the point, typical for Fen. He took a couple steps closer. He wasn’t close enough to her for Theo to worry. Yet.

Theo almost thought she wouldn’t respond. Three little words seemed to have punched what little she had left out of her. “Funny, you’re…” She made a sound, like she was trying to laugh but her body wouldn’t let her. “You’re the first person in years who’s asked me that.”

Theo was about to whisper at Fen to not believe it, as much as he was starting to believe it himself. Fen spoke before he could. “Do you…want to talk? Hearing you sad made me feel sad and I wanted to stop feeling sad so I knocked.” Unlike her, Fen had the strength to laugh, albeit a weak one and aimed at himself. “Sorry, I should have asked if it was okay to interrupt you.”

“You don’t need to say sorry. You know…” Now she did laugh, and Theo hadn’t heard a more painful sound in his life. “You know who I want a sorry from? The man who made me think I was going to die when you knocked on my door. I want a sorry from management for making me think dying isn’t going to be that bad a thing. I want…”

She had started standing on wobbling knees as she spoke, only to suddenly fall. Theo seized the back of Fen’s coat and yanked him back, hard. Thanks to him, she didn’t touch Fen, although she was too close now. On her knees and hands, the trembling returning worse than before, tears spilling onto the hard, colourless shell of a floor.

“I’m going to forget what I want. I’ll forget everything except this room. I can’t even – I can’t – I can’t remember what I – what was it like to drink and not worry – what was it like before breathing became something you had to work for? This place is my – why don’t they just up and take my home? Why don’t they just take it away if they want me here so badly?”

Now Theo knew what Fen meant when he said his breathing got funny sometimes. This sounded worse than that. He wanted to point, to laugh at a grown-up seeing what it was like to be small and alone. He couldn’t. He couldn’t so much as will his lips to smile.

“Every time I think I’m out, one more. Only takes half an hour. Then another. They drip-feed it, slowly enough that you don’t catch on, that you think it’s a simple supply and demand but I see it in his eyes and everyone’s eyes and I can’t get out, I can’t…” She had fallen into the noise that brought Fen here. “It’s so cold outside, but it’s fire in here. And I try and I try but I’m so tired of burning.”

The reflections in the floor weren’t perfect. Enough to see the bare essentials. Theo wondered how she looked to herself right now. Unravelling before her own broken face. He kept telling himself this was a trick, that he knew better, but it was getting harder with every sob that burst from her. Fen looked at him, his eyes taking a shape Theo had never seen before. Something so strong, Theo almost broke into the same expression as his brother.

“Fen.” He whispered. “You sure?” His hand remained over the knife’s hilt.

Fen smiled, and it was the hardest smile Theo had seen him make. He held out his left hand, letting Theo take it. A lifeline. He’d be close enough if she really was dangerous. Theo squeezed it. Tight. Nodded and stood behind him as he approached her, never letting go.

Everything that followed, Theo expected. What he did not expect was the very first thing Fen did. Stroke the top of her head, up and down, up and down.

She didn’t react at first, just kept crying. But soon she was up, hugging her knees, for a split second looking like any other child Theo had seen in the streets he called home. “I’m sorry.” She whimpered. “You two don’t even have a roof over your heads and you’re so small and I’m only worried about myself.”

“Please don’t cry.” Theo was glad he could only see the back of Fen’s head right now. Seeing a grown-up like this was enough; he didn’t need that tender, honest smile on his little brother’s face tearing into him on top of that. “And don’t worry about me. I found my home ages ago.”

Okay, total lie, when did Fen become good at lies, but go on.

“Can you tell me your name?” Theo would’ve argued before, but Fen had long since convinced Theo that it didn’t matter who knew their names if the world really was as indifferent to them as Theo said.

“Isabel.”

“I’m Fen. Have you ever looked at the stars, Isabel?”

The woman seemed like she was going to ask why Fen would ask a question like that. Until she, still sitting, looked at the window with glassy eyes. “I…haven’t even looked out that thing in forever. Not that there’s a point. Can’t see the stars, glass is all smothered.”

“They’re there, you just got to look up a little.” Fen, almost as if he were the grown-up and the woman the little kid, pointed to the top of the window. She followed his direction and squinted, either playing along to get their guard down or actually feeling something at what she was seeing.

“Yeah, I…I can see them. What about them?”

Fen was practically giddy now as he kept pointing. “There’s Maddie, there’s Candace, there’s Nox, there’s…”

“I don’t think…” Tears were still dripping from the woman’s eyes, yet she somehow made the smallest laugh through them. “I don’t think stars have names like that.”

“They do! They do! They’re my friends!” Fen had not lost his excitement. That didn’t stop Theo from giving the woman a short glare. Nobody was allowed to put a sock in Fen’s brightness besides his big brother. She took the hint, although she looked more like she pitied than feared Theo. Why? She couldn’t see his knives, but surely she saw the bat he’d bragged about smashing things with, right?

“Isabel, if you wanna be friends…” Fen began, and then, true to the unspoken rule established ages ago, Theo saw him droop. “Sorry, my brother feels safer if we’re by ourselves.”

“I understand.” She said, instantly and with so much honesty in her voice, it almost shocked Theo out of his brief pang of guilt for Fen. Even though staying alone was obviously smart and always had been. “Can’t imagine what it’s like for children like you out there.”

“But if we can’t be your friends, stars can be.” That was, actually, another strange thing about it all to Theo. He’d expected Fen to make up a story about quitting, about finding a better job, about inspiring the workers to revolt. He’d never imagined Fen was listening when Theo said grown-ups don’t always have simple solutions to their problems. Instead, he was going straight for something else.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Stars are always there. I mean, they still die, but that takes millions and millions of years to happen. So, they’re always there for us. They can’t change things, they can’t talk, and you can’t share strawberries with them. But as long as you can see them and they can see you, you’re never alone. And I’m too far away from a star to tell if they have hearts, but I think they do. I think that they love you.”

Theo couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman, not if he wanted to keep Fen safe. It was getting more like keeping his eyes on a blinding sun now. Her eyes, her lips, her whole face was changing into something Theo knew better than to take as real, but it was real. His heart was going out of control.

“Here.” Fen dug into his coat pockets and took out a handful of candy from the vending machine. “So, you don’t have to walk all the way down to eat. And…” Digging again, he pulled out his little star, reaching up to stick it right on her shoulder. “Keep it. That way, even if you can’t see a star, you’ll remember how much they love you.”

Isabel stroked the star slowly, staring at the scrappy thing like she’d never dreamed of it existing. Her touch was undoubtedly tender, soft, the kind of soft Theo always felt when holding Fen. Her eyes started welling again, and Theo was a little impressed she had this many tears to spare. Her lips seemed to fight against their own wobbling to break into a smile that set the whole room aflame.

“This…” She took a moment, breathed, looked Fen straight in the eye. “That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, Fen.”

“Thank you!” Fen chirped, like this had actually given him more joy than knowing he and Theo weren’t starving tonight. “Okay, we’ll give you your space now.”

“Hold on. I…wasn’t exactly honest when I said I had nothing for you. I just wasn’t up for giving anything away. But I have to pay you back for that.”

“It’s okay, I’m just…strawberries?!” Fen’s elated squeals relieved Theo – he was this close to pulling Fen back and loudly insisting they would like repayment, yes, very much, thank you. Isabel had taken a little key from her pocket and used it to open a draw in her desk, pulling out a little box of strawberries and two still-very-cold bottles of water.

“You sure you don’t need this?” Fen asked her. The only reason Theo held back again was that he asked after they’d gotten the goods.

“I’ll be fine, really. Thank you. I’m serious. You’ve made me feel more alive in a minute than I have in years. Be safe out there and I hope you find your home soon. God knows you deserve the coziest home there is.” Theo had been so drawn into himself with seeing her change, he did nothing when Isabel actually reached out and touched Fen’s hair, giving it a ruffle the same way Theo would, just a bit less rough. And after Fen giggled, like he did every time someone did that for him, she looked Theo straight in the eyes. “Both of you.”

“Excuse me? I smashed your place’s window, broke your machine, and did nothing to make you feel better, unlike my star-worshipping little brother. Why the hell do you care about me?” Is what Theo wanted to yell at her. But he knew he didn’t want to face the answer. The sun arriving to light up the night he’d ran into was never going to be good enough to be true. So instead, he gave a curt nod and walked away, water in his hands, strawberries in Fen’s.

Fen was first out the door. Right by the edge of the exit, Theo saw what Isabel had crumbled up and thrown away. Isabel herself had returned to her computer, her typing slow and a tired but real smile on her face. She must have forgotten about it. Despite himself, Theo picked up the ball and walked away.

This was going to be a single glimpse into a grown-up that a part of him had felt safe with. And then he was going to walk away forever, having scratched that itch. Staying behind Fen, he carefully unfolded the note.

I don’t know how to do it yet. Pen, knife, or throwing myself out of that window. But if anyone reads this, I’m sorry. I wasn’t human enough. I know nobody will miss me.

He nearly tripped, the words hammering his chest. Nothing about Isabel’s state when they left made him worry that she was anywhere close to doing that now. But if he hadn’t let Fen in there, they would have wandered and wandered until walking into a room with a shattered window or worse, an empty-eyed, stiff – no, he couldn’t finish the thought. He tore up the note, told Fen he was shredding paper for fun, and never went back into that building again.

When they were finally cooped up in their fortress of boxes, back amongst worn blankets and dining on the sweetest of fruits, Theo had tried his hardest to forget what he’d read. Surprisingly, it had been easier than he thought. Because all he could think of now was his brother. And one little thing he said back there that didn’t make sense.

“Hey, what did you mean when you told her you’d already gotten a home? You said you couldn’t tell a lie.”

Fen stopped chewing, rubbed his mouth clean, looked up at him. All the stars that were his friends shimmered in his eyes. “I wasn’t lying.”

“She didn’t buy it, Fen. She said she hoped we got a home.” Theo laughed.

“I wasn’t lying.”

What came out of Fen’s mouth next wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t enough for the guy to say that to Theo. No, he had to throw his arms right around his brother, make every nerve in his body crackle with the warmth and enormity of supernovas, savouring his daily hug for every second it was worth, and saying that next.

“You’re my home.”

Theo was close. This close to crying exactly the same way Isabel had. He honestly considered it worthy of a hundred boasts that he didn’t, that he managed to wrap his arms around Fen, manifesting the love a thousand homes had to offer, knowing none of them deserved him, and speaking in an embarrassingly choked voice.

“Sap.”

“Love you, too.” Came Fen’s reply.