Chapter Text
Mister Ambrose asked to talk to Tabasa in private after the end of the therapy session, once Russell had been kindly instructed to go in the waiting room alone for just a little while. The therapist usually didn't do this, which was why Tabasa's first thought was: uh-oh. His second thought as he watched Mister Ambrose clasp his hands together on his clipboard was, I must've done something wrong. There were many things it could be. Tabasa tried to stay on top of everything, but it was really difficult to constantly remember every single little task that was on his to-do list. It wouldn't surprise him if the therapist told him he'd neglected one of them, and that Russell had manifested this somehow during his session.
"Do you know why I wanted to talk to you alone?" asked Mister Ambrose calmly.
"Um..." Tabasa squirmed in his seat, trying his best not to fidget with the two beads hanging from his hair. "Is it something I did?"
"Oh, no," quickly said Mister Ambrose, lifting a hand to quell Tabasa's worries. "Not at all. I only wish to be able to talk about the situation you're in without affecting Russell's perception of his home life. Of course, once we clarify things, you're free to inform him as you see fit. I just didn't want to take you by surprise in front of him with my questions."
"...What situation?" cautiously asked Tabasa.
"The situation of being, effectively, a single parent to a child that you've only known for about a year.”
“A year and a half…”
“Not to mention, all this was unplanned when it happened, and as we've discussed before, you are rather young. You were even younger when you met him. You’re 26 years old, now, isn’t that right? It's no surprise that you might struggle with some aspects of this parenthood."
"I'm not... I mean..." Tabasa briefly dropped his gaze to his hands, then looked back at Mister Ambrose. "It's gotten a little tougher, sure... But I'm managing."
"Russell told me he found you asleep at the table in the middle of the night," said Mister Ambrose. "He also mentioned that you often stay up late. Now, I won't make any assumptions as to why that is, but I can tell you that if Russell chose to speak of this of his own initiative, it means that this worries him to some degree. And I believe that he's right to be at least a little concerned about how you're faring."
Tabasa didn't know what to answer. He felt put on the spot. He'd thought he'd done a pretty good job at not showing how tired he was so far, except that one time when he'd fallen asleep at the table while he was going over the bills.
"Children are very astute, especially those who have a past like Russell's," Mister Ambrose told him. "He will always be on the lookout for any sign that you're tired of taking care of him. It's a deep insecurity that took root in his earliest years of life. As you know, if Russell feels that his parental figure doesn't want to take care of him, he'll start to expect punishment. It goes hand in hand."
"I'd never punish him!" exclaimed Tabasa.
"No, of course not. You've made that very clear in the months that we've gotten to know each other," Mister Ambrose reassured him. "Russell himself knows that you only want what's best for him. But I'm certain you can understand that Russell doesn't entirely control his fears, especially irrational ones."
Tabasa slumped back in his chair, and then quietly acquiesced. "...Yes. I know he can't help it."
"He's noticed how tired you look. I, myself, can see that your health has diminished since you first brought Russell to my office."
Tabasa looked to the side. At work, Dani had also pointed out that he seemed a little off, even if Tabasa's work hadn’t suffered from it. Yet.
"I just... didn't think it could get this hard," he muttered.
"No one knows what parenthood is like until they become a parent. You and Russell have a particular dynamic and context which not many can appreciate or understand. Additionally, Russell’s violent tendencies will take their toll on you, if they haven’t already. That's why I'd like to remind you that you can ask for your own therapy sessions. I think it could help."
Tabasa absent-mindedly nodded. Sure, the idea was nice. The reality, however... He didn't have the money to spend on additional therapy. It was already enough that Russell could go to regular sessions. Maybe Tabasa would consider it later. Somewhere down the line.
"Thank you, Mister Ambrose... I hadn't forgotten. I just don't feel like it's the right moment yet."
"Of course," said the therapist. "I wanted to remind you that you aren't alone in this. Whether you follow up on my suggestion is your choice, and I respect it. "
Tabasa remembered Yumi had told him something along those lines too. It was a nice thought, but Tabasa was the one who'd signed the DOPA. He had the responsibilities. Most of all, he was the one who'd put himself in a mess that kept growing, and he'd be damned if he let anyone else know about it. It wasn't about pride, far from it. It was about the risk. The risk of being found out, and ruining everything. He'd find a solution. He knew he would, eventually. He just had to hold on until he figured it out.
"Thank you," he told Mister Ambrose.
It was a rare instance to cross paths with Wendy in front of the school, but it happened when she managed to find the time in her busy schedule to come pick up her son at the gates. Tabasa was glad to see her standing there when he got out of the car. It meant Chris would be in an especially good mood when he walked out of his class, and Wendy always had a kind word for everyone in their little group. Tabasa locked his car and walked up to her. Wendy turned around when she heard his footsteps approaching, and her face lit up when she recognized him.
“Tabasa! Hello. How are you?”
“I’m great,” said Tabasa. “What about you? Did one of your bosses cut you some slack for today…?”
Wendy beamed at him. “Yes, that’s it. So I’ve got the whole evenin’ planned out, spending it with Chris. I made cake,” she added conspiratorially.
“I’m sure he’ll love it,” said Tabasa.
“But don’t tell him,” Wendy quickly said. “I want it to be a surprise.”
“Of course.” Tabasa pretended to zip his lips shut and threw away the key, which made Wendy laugh.
“And how have you been?” she asked. “I hadn’t seen you face-to-face in a while. Since the pool, actually.”
“We’ve been doing okay, Russell and me… There’s been a bit of a rough patch with the date of the incident coming back around, but I’m sure we’ll come out of it alright.”
Wendy tilted her head, her long brown locks slipping down her shoulder.
“Is that why you look so tired?”
Tabasa was beginning to feel bothered by the amount of remarks he was getting on his appearance. It must’ve been a lot more obvious than he thought.
“Um… yeah. Probably.”
Wendy said: “I know just the thing. You need an evenin’ to yourself.”
Tabasa looked at her. “I do?”
She nodded. “Yes, I know it when I see it. How long has it been since you’ve had some alone time?”
“Uh… There’s… work.”
Wendy chuckled. “No, I meant some alone time outside of work. A time when you don’t have to look after Russell and you can do somethin’ that you like– for fun, you see?”
“Well… I don’t really know,” said Tabasa with a small shrug. “I guess it’s been a while.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“...What is?”
“I’ll take Russell off your hands for one night. He can have a sleepover at my house, with Chris,” suggested Wendy.
Tabasa’s eyes widened. “Oh, no… I… I don’t mean to impose, I…”
“Tabasa, it’s alright,” gently said Wendy. “I’m sure Russell and Chris would be very happy about it. It’s been a long time since Russell came over and stayed until mornin’.”
“Are you sure…?”
“Yes. The only thing that I’ll ask for is…” She hesitated. “Could you make sure to help him pack a bag for the night? He always came over empty-handed, and I had to lend him some clean pyjamas and a toothbrush every time. He also had to put his things back on in the mornin’ because he didn’t have a change of clothes or spare underwear… Now I know it’s because he used to get kicked out for the night by his parents. If that kinda situation could be avoided, it’d probably be for the best.”
“Of course,” said Tabasa, bewildered that she even had to ask.
Wendy gratefully smiled at him. “Thank you. Maybe you could pack some snacks, too, or a dessert. I always got the feeling that Russell was ashamed that he never brought anythin’ to the dinner table.”
“I’ll do that,” promised Tabasa. “Thanks for telling me, Wendy… I had no idea.”
“No problem,” she said with a smile.
Russell didn't look bothered by Wendy and Tabasa's suggestion of a sleepover. Tabasa had half-expected Russell to refuse because it would mean changing the routine he'd managed to put into place since Copperfield, but it turned out that old, familiar habits were just as good an anchor for him. Maybe Russell had been waiting to do this again this whole time. Chris was clearly overjoyed to have his best friend over for the night.
Tabasa noticed that Wendy had waited for Gardenia to leave with her own mom before mentioning her idea to the boys. When neither of them said anything about inviting Gardenia as well, Tabasa suddenly understood that they didn't consider her the same way as they did each other. He thought that Gardenia would probably be saddened if she knew that they planned stuff without her, considering it didn't seem like she had many other friends to do this kind of thing with now. Tabasa decided he'd ask Russell about it later in the week, when the moment was more opportune.
They parted ways, and Tabasa helped Russell prepare his things as soon as they got home. Russell looked a bit surprised that they were doing this at all, at first, but he went along with it easily enough once he understood what Tabasa was trying to do. He even chose which change of clothes he wanted to bring. Short of having the time to bake a cake, Tabasa gave him a brand-new box of chocolate-flavored snacks to bring back to Chris and Wendy. They drove to their house half an hour later, and Tabasa dropped Russell off with a wave. Russell briefly waved back, and then disappeared into the house with Chris. The speed at which they vanished was a clear indicator of their enthusiasm. It reassured Tabasa.
"Have fun," Wendy called to him from the front door.
"Thanks!" he called back with a smile, and he pulled out of the driveway.
The plan for the evening was to see Yumi. He'd told her about his time-off, and she'd immediately invited him for supper. Tabasa had planned to hang out with Dani and his other co-workers for some beers, the way they'd always done before the DOPA had entered the picture, but reading Yumi's text made him realize that he just didn't have the energy for a loud bar and even louder, drunk colleagues. Besides, Yumi would have more use for Tabasa's company than his coworkers would. She hadn't been doing so hot lately, and Tabasa decided he couldn't brush her off on this rare occasion where they could spend an entire evening together.
Yumi was already preparing dinner when Tabasa showed up at her place. She welcomed him inside and told him to get rid of his coat and shoes. Tabasa would've preferred to keep his hood, but he didn't want to be impolite and wanted even less to have to explain why, so he did as he was told. The kitchen smelled incredible, of spices and meat. He stood next to the counter while Yumi chopped carrots that they'd eat with some mayonnaise. She said she'd been trying to eat a lot more vegetables since the incident.
"Can't look after my health enough," Yumi told him. "By the by, is Russell eatin' his greens? I feel like the kid could have some trouble with those after the crappy diet his parents forced on him."
"He's fine," said Tabasa. "Surprisingly... he's not a picky eater."
"That is surprising," agreed Yumi. "I'd have pegged him for one, a hundred percent."
"Well, he's picky about other things. I got him a phone the other day... finally. It doesn't look like he's a fan of it, though..."
"How come?"
"I guess he just doesn't like having sort of, um... a leash?"
Yumi shot him a look. "That's a little strong, dontcha think?"
"I don't know, Yumi... I kind of get it, if that's what he's thinking."
Tabasa was glad he had a way to keep track of Russell’s whereabouts and well-being if he needed to check, and he’d shown Russell how to use his new phone in one evening. However, his enthusiasm hadn’t been reciprocated. Russell seemed a little concerned that his freedom in the streets wasn’t as great as before.
It wasn’t that Russell outright complained about it, and he hadn’t tried to protest against Tabasa’s new ability to call him wherever he was, but Russell stared at the phone like he was bothered by its simple existence. He was slow to follow Tabasa’s instructions while he was taught how to register a number, and to send a text, and to call; Tabasa read reluctance in that slowness. The only logical conclusion he’d gotten from all of this was that Russell had just then realized the reach Tabasa now had.
Tabasa had promised that he’d only try to contact him in case of emergencies, or if he got worried from not getting any news of Russell when it got late at night. Russell had agreed to that. Tabasa wasn’t sure he was really completely okay with it.
“I think that therapist had the right idea when he suggested the phone. It’s a sound decision,” said Yumi approvingly. “Don’t overthink it, Tabs. Every kid needs some supervision. It’s because his parents didn’t care that Russell picked up the habit in the first place.”
"...I guess," said Tabasa, still unconvinced. "I just hope Russell doesn't end up upset at me for it, or something..."
"Well, yer good at communicating with him. You'll have no trouble clearing things up."
Yumi got up from her chair to go run her hands under the faucet, then wiped them on the cloth hanging from the cupboard and went to check the pot on the fire. Tabasa's stomach growled loudly when he saw the stew bubbling in the open crockpot. His hand flew up to cover it, and he cast an embarrassed look in her direction. She grinned at him.
"Want me to shoot a horse out in the backyard? Cause ya sound like you could eat one," joked Yumi.
"Sorry... I'm trying to eat less at lunch for a diet, so I get hungry early in the evening," lied Tabasa.
"A diet? Boy, ya don't need one. Yer already skinny as a twig."
"I read a... study. Some scientists say it's good for you."
"When didja start?"
"Um... Few months ago."
"Well, ya better stop. Ya don't look healthier since ya started, honest."
"...Oh," said Tabasa, feeling caught out. He should've known that what Mister Ambrose had noticed by seeing him twice a month, Yumi had surely noticed as well. He feigned ignorance anyway. "Really?"
Yumi knocked him on the head. It didn't hurt, but it surprised him.
"I dunno which quack scientists wrote the study ya found, but ya outta check yerself in the mirror sometime. Listen to me: stop the stupid diet and get some real food in ya," Yumi reprimanded him. "Now go siddown. And ya better lick that plate clean."
Tabasa sat down exactly where Yumi wanted him to sit down. He hesitated to get back up when she started limping over with the pot held out in front of her, but the sharpness in her blue gaze told him that he'd better not. So Tabasa obediently put his knees back under the table and watched her lower their dinner in the middle of it.
"Gimme yer plate," she instructed.
Tabasa held it out, and Yumi scooped a heavy ladleful of stew which she plopped onto his plate. It was heavier than it looked.
"Hold on," she said when he started to pull it back to him.
"Oh, Yumi, I..."
"I said hold on."
Tabasa let her serve him another ladle, this time with more potatoes than meat, and then she nodded. He put the plate back down. His stomach growled again at the sight of the tender, luscious gleam of juicy meat and the small orange bubbles of fat slipping around the cut pieces of perfectly cooked potatoes.
"This looks really delicious, Yumi."
"You bet yer sweet ass it does," she proudly answered, touching up her own portion. "Go on and eat."
Tabasa didn't have to be asked twice. He tried his best to take it slow, but the food was just too good, and soon he was scarfing down the contents of his plate. When he'd eaten half his dinner and felt the hunger in his stomach finally abate, he looked up as he wiped his mouth on his napkin, and that was when he noticed Yumi staring at him with her chin in her hand. She was holding her fork with the other, but had stopped lifting it to her mouth. Tabasa stilled.
"...What?"
Yumi ate the piece of meat she'd speared with her fork. She chewed on it, then when she was done, she lowered her fork to her plate and crossed her arms on the table.
"Look, Tabasa. I know we talk an awful lot about Russell and myself 'cause of the time of year, but it was tough on ya, too. Are ya takin' care of yerself?"
"Yeah, of course," quickly said Tabasa.
She didn't look convinced. "Yer lookin' tired."
"Well... I did have to clean out a part of the zoo's stockroom."
"C'mon, Tabasa. Ya know what I mean. It ain't just from this month, although, I can believe that this month has been worse-- what with all of Russell's issues. But you've been tired for a while now. To be frank, that diet story smelled like a load of baloney to me. What's the real reason ya haven't been eatin' correctly?"
"But... I am on a diet," insisted Tabasa. It was sort of true.
"So... no money problems, that it?"
Tabasa swallowed. He resisted the urge to squirm beneath Yumi's scrutiny.
"No money problems..."
"Alright, look. Even if I looked up the diet thing and it held up, ya still look unhealthy. Is takin' care of Russell wearing you down that bad?"
"...It's just that..." Tabasa looked away, curled his finger around his hair ornament and tugged. "...Yeah. It's a lot. I've been... running after him. It feels like I can never catch up."
Yumi nodded in understanding. "Hey, if Wendy said ya needed more time to yerself, maybe ya should consider that in the long term. Anythin' I can help with? Stuff like bringing Russ places, ya know? Time you'd use for other things than makin' sure the kid is where he needs to be."
Tabasa hesitated. "Well... maybe for school. I'm always worried I'll be late to pick him up, and most of the time, Russell isn't even waiting for me... If that's okay..."
"Sure it's okay, dontcha worry. I'll be there. Beats bein' on desk duty by a mile," she said with a smile. "I'm 'bout as useful as a potted plant as soon as I'm done with the day's work, which is to say early. Usually I stick around with the coworkers, but they won't miss me if I'm gone."
"Thanks, Yumi... I appreciate it."
"Don't sweat it. And tell me if there's anythin' else ya need, Tabs. I'm serious."
"Yeah... Okay. I will."
Tabasa took Russell grocery shopping on Saturday. Russell behaved more openly since the sleepover, so it was obvious he’d enjoyed going there. It seemed to have been a relaxing experience. Tabasa was happy for him. He watched Russell spin around, shoes squeaking against the white tiles, and then lift a finger in another aisle’s direction. There was a discount on the cheese. Tabasa peered down at his list covered in scribbles and unsteady lines where the items they'd already found were crossed out.
"Uh... I don't think we need any cheese, buddy."
But it was buy one get one free.
Tabasa pushed the cart after Russell, amused to see that the kid was just as invested in finding small prices as he was.
"Okay… That does sound like a good deal. Is there one you’d like in particular?"
Russell went to stand in front of the neatly ordered rows of cheeses. Tabasa looked around and decided he'd take advantage of Russell's pondering to go check the nearest aisle.
"Be right back, Russell. I'm gonna go find eggs, you look after the cart, okay?"
Russell gave an absent-minded nod, and Tabasa left to seek out the next item on the list. He realized that the next aisle was the wrong one (still just dairy), wondered how he always managed to mix up the aisles after shopping this long in the same supermarket, and ambled into the following. The eggs were in a smaller display at the very end of it, near the meats, and Tabasa went straight for it. He grabbed a box of six eggs and then caught sight of the vegetables nearby, so he set about bagging a cabbage, and then two big tomatoes. He was about to get some potatoes when he heard a woman call his name.
"McNeil!"
Tabasa turned around and barely had the time to move his eggs out of the way before a hand grabbed by the arm. Long brown hair, smudged mascara, bright red lips, lace peeking out from the cleavage pressed against him. The plastic bags hanging from Tabasa's arms crinkled beneath the woman’s weight. Tabasa felt his face grow hot at the same time as he felt a rush of dread come down upon him. He’d thought he’d have more time before he saw her again.
"Mrs. Seager," he said in shock.
She tugged on his arm. She sounded drunk when she spoke. "You have money on you right now, right? I need it. You have to give it to me, I need it, okay?"
Tabasa tried to push her away, throwing frantic glances in every direction. "What are you doing...!"
Her features twisted, she tugged harshly on his arm and raised her voice."You better do what I tell you, McNeil, or-"
"I get it," he quickly said. People were throwing glances in their direction and he didn't want to draw any more attention. "I'm listening, I'm listening."
She smiled.
"Good."
Her body pressed up against his, invasive, smelling of too-strong perfume, her grip on his arm claw-like. Her voice lowered to a sultry tone and Tabasa tensed when he felt her hand pull back his hood so that she could whisper in his ear. Her long, fake nails grazed against his scalp. God, he felt sick.
"You know what you owe me. You're gonna give it to me like the good little boy that you are. Right now, okay?" Her hand slipped away from his hood and she splayed her hand on his chest, her grin sly and salacious. "And… maybe, next time, you’d like to visit my bed. Things must be getting tough for you. What do you say?"
Tabasa felt the hairs rise along his nape, and it wasn't from the cold of the section they were standing in. He felt like prey caught in a predator's claws. He opened his mouth.
"I don't..."
He didn't get to say the rest of his refusal out loud, because Mrs. Seager was suddenly shoved back. She hit the display of hams and sausages with a cry of surprise. Tabasa felt a hand wrap around his wrist and pull at his arm. He stumbled backward, and saw Russell standing next to him. The boy’s blue eyes were wide and fixated on his mother.
Mrs. Seager looked up and her eyes narrowed when she saw him. She ground out: "...You."
Russell's grip tightened around Tabasa's wrist and he tugged again, his gaze never coming away from the woman. Tabasa's brain finally caught up with the program when he heard the murmurs all around them, and he quickly raised his head and told them: "Everything's fine, just... a little disagreement." He shot her a look. "Right?"
Mrs. Seager straightened and adjusted her bag, still glaring at Russell. "Right." She stepped up to Tabasa and stuck out her hand. Russell didn't try to pull them away again. He was frozen now. "Hurry it up. Cash."
Tabasa clenched his teeth and reached down in his coat pocket to pull out his wallet. He looked into it and pulled out three fifty-dollar bills and one of twenty to put them in her hand. Mrs. Seager raised an eyebrow.
"It's all I have," muttered Tabasa. "Cash."
She made a sound of dissatisfaction but gripped the four bills in her hand anyway. "You better not be ripping me off," she spat, and she left before Tabasa could answer.
He stood there, stunned. He’d known it had been a year already, hell, even Melody had seen Mrs. Seager walking around town just a while ago. But Tabasa hadn’t wanted to believe that she’d gotten out of jail already. He realized that a lot of people were shooting glances in his direction, even though they were pretending to get back to their business. Tabasa let out a short sigh and looked down at the boy at his side, and he was slammed by the intensity of Russell's blue gaze. Russell stared at him, then looked in the direction his mother had left, and then at Tabasa again. His eyes were big and wary. He snatched his hand away from Tabasa's wrist like he'd been burnt and slowly started to back up.
"Russell," Tabasa said, a warning going off at the back of his head. He knew that look on the kid's face. "Whatever you're thinking, that's not it."
Russell's back hit the vegetable rack and he froze. His eyes were wide, too wide, he was breathing fast. It was like he didn't recognize him anymore.
"Russell," Tabasa said again, taking a step forward.
Russell covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He made a small, low groan and dropped to a crouch in the middle of the aisle.
"Oh my god," said someone on the side.
"What's happening to him?"
"Is he all right?"
Tabasa realized that Russell was going through something he couldn't control, a flashback, some kind of attack. He raised a hand towards the bystanders. "It's fine, I'm with him, I can handle this. No need to call anyone." He turned back to Russell and cautiously stepped closer. "Russell...? Russell, buddy, can you hear me?"
A low whine of denial escaped Russell and tears started to pool along his lashes. Tabasa made up his mind then and there: he had to get the kid outside. He went to kneel in front of Russell, carefully touching one of his hands. Russell flinched, but he couldn't back himself up against the wall any further than he already had.
"It's okay, Russell. I swear it's okay... We're going to get out of here, now. Can you stand up?"
More tears spilled down Russell's face. He didn't make a single sound. He was shaking like a leaf.
Tabasa came to a decision. He discarded the bags of vegetables on the floor and wrapped his arms around Russell, who flinched again, but this time didn't try to get away. Tabasa scooped him off the ground with a grunt. Russell was healthier and had gained weight since that time at the aquarium, whereas Tabasa had lost some, but the boy was still much, much lighter than the crates Tabasa carried at work. It wasn't difficult at all to maneuver him out of the aisle. Tabasa left everything behind, the bags, the cart, and carried Russell out of the supermarket where he made a beeline for their car. Russell was tense and shaking in his arms, and Tabasa was afraid of the silent, distraught state he was in. It had happened too fast.
Tabasa managed to unlock the car and open the door with one hand, but when he went to lower Russell on the seat, he felt two hands grab his coat in a panicked, unyielding grip.
"Russell?"
He didn't get an answer, only very quiet sobbing, and that shaking which wouldn't stop. Tabasa quickly looked around and made a decision.
"Okay, buddy... That's fine too."
It was a tight fit for the both of them to sit in the same seat, but he managed it, and as they sat there together, he carefully patted Russell's flank where he knew there were no scars.
"Take your time. I'll wait for you to calm down."
Russell pulled on his coat and curled into him like he was afraid to let go. He cried. And cried. Louder and louder, until he was outright bawling in Tabasa's arms, his agonized keening muffled against the folds of his green coat. Tabasa could only hold onto the boy, helpless, worried by the amount of emotion Russell was displaying all at once. It was the first time anything of the sort had happened since he'd known the kid. People were staring as they walked by. Tabasa waved them on, trying to make it come across through his facial expressions that he had everything under control.
Russell's loud crying gradually died down to sobs, and then hiccups. He didn't stop shaking.
"...Russell?" tried Tabasa. "You think you can tell me what's wrong?"
Russell shook his head, rubbing his face against Tabasa's chest in a spot that had grown warm and humid. He still wasn't letting go.
"You don't have to do it right now. We have time."
It took another long while for Russell's breathing to even out some, at which point he started shaking less. He was still hiccuping from time to time. Tabasa gently rubbed at the boy's cold, white knuckles where his hands were strained fists bunching up the fabric of his coat. He didn't push Russell to tell him what was wrong.
Finally, Russell peered up at his face with puffy red eyes. There was something intense in his blue gaze, but Tabasa couldn't understand what Russell was thinking. Russell eventually looked down and unpeeled a hand from Tabasa's coat to take out his little notepad, and then his pen, all with one hand as if unwilling to completely let go of Tabasa. He wrote on his pad in shaky letters where it was laid against his thigh. Don't go, it said.
"Of course I'm not leaving," said Tabasa with a concerned frown.
with mom, Russell completed.
Tabasa laid his other hand over the smaller fist against his chest. "I'm not doing that, Russell... Are you really afraid that I'd do that?"
Russell stared down at the notepad for a long time. Then he wrote: money. Tabasa opened his mouth to talk, but Russell continued writing, so he waited for him to be done. They did it too. Then Russell looked up again, and he didn't look as accusing as he just looked worn-out. It was like he was only expecting Tabasa to admit a terrible truth. Tabasa frantically shook his head.
"No, Russell, never! I'd never do that kind of thing, I... This was different, I swear. I'm really sorry if that scared you... She only needed money and she knew I'd give it to her. That's all it was."
Russell hesitated, a light frown appearing on his brow. He looked down and scribbled on his notepad.
Why?
Tabasa read the simple word. He tried not to squirm. This wasn't the kind of stuff he could let Russell know about, but it was also probably the kind of stuff he'd find out on his own if Tabasa didn't tell him. Russell finding out on his own would be considerably worse. Tabasa took a deep breath.
"Your mom... wasn't... generous, with the DOPA. It was a complicated process... She didn't want to agree to it at first. She said she'd only do it if... I paid her a certain amount."
Russell's expression was unwavering. Tabasa couldn't tell if that made it easier or harder to continue talking. He second-guessed himself, recovered, quickly decided on what he would and wouldn't tell.
"...So I did it. I paid for the DOPA and it worked. That's, um... probably why she thought she could ask me earlier. She wasn't supposed to bother us, though... I'm sorry this kind of thing happened while you were there."
Russell looked away. Neither of them said anything for a long time.
"I'm not leaving, Russell," eventually said Tabasa in a quiet, comforting tone. "You have to trust me on that... I said I'd take care of you. I meant it. I know you're afraid, and maybe a part of you always will be, but... you don't have to be. I won't abandon you. You can let go, and I'll still be there. ...Okay?"
Another long silence followed his words. Finally, Russell slowly nodded and unhooked his fingers from Tabasa's tear-laden coat.