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Theo’s not an animal person. Never has been. He’s not a people person either, but that’s at least expected — easier to admit than the way animals always seem to sniff out whatever’s broken in him and recoil. Dogs snarl, cats arch their backs, even birds scatter from telephone wires like he’s carrying death in his pocket. He’s used to it.
So when he finds himself crouching on the curb outside his apartment in the fading summer heat, staring at a calico cat that hasn’t immediately bolted at the sight of him, he feels… thrown. Off balance in a way he doesn’t like.
The cat is thin but not ragged, fur mottled in uneven patches of ginger, black, and white. One ear has a notch out of it. Her green eyes — because of course she’s a girl, Theo can tell somehow — glint up at him like she’s measuring his worth. She doesn’t hiss. Doesn’t dart away. She just sits there, tail curled neatly around her paws, as if daring him to make the first move.
“This is stupid,” Theo mutters, dragging a hand down his face. He should just keep walking. Go upstairs, shut the door, pretend he didn’t see her. He’s not the type to play house with a pet. Not the type to take care of anything fragile or alive. He’s ruined enough lives already.
But when he stands, the calico meows — sharp and insistent, the sound tugging something in his chest that feels dangerous. He freezes, frowns down at her.
“What? You want food?”
Another meow, softer this time, but the message feels clear. Theo sighs like the weight of the world has been dropped on his shoulders, mutters a curse under his breath, and crouches again. He doesn’t touch her. He knows better. But when he gets up and heads toward the apartment door, her paws patter after him, following close at his heels like it’s already decided.
By the time he’s in the kitchen rummaging through half-empty cabinets, she’s curled up on his worn couch like she owns it. Theo glances at her over his shoulder, eyebrows pinched. “You’re not staying.” The cat blinks, stretches out, and ignores him completely.
He finds a can of tuna shoved in the back of a cupboard. Not ideal, but it’ll work. He dumps it into a bowl and sets it down on the floor. The calico leaps off the couch with surprising grace, noses the offering, and begins to eat with small, precise bites. Theo stands there like an idiot, watching.
He tells himself he’ll take her to a shelter tomorrow. That this is temporary. Just one night. But when he wakes the next morning to find her curled against his side, a warm ball of fur pressed against his ribs, something in him cracks. He doesn’t shove her off. Doesn’t get up immediately. He just lies there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft rumble of her purr like it’s the first steady thing he’s heard in years.
Of course Liam finds out.
It happens a week later, when the knock on Theo’s door comes sharp and impatient. He opens it to see Liam standing there, arms crossed, jaw set in that way that makes him look older than nineteen.
“What?” Theo asks, already exasperated.
“You weren’t at the pack meeting,” Liam says. His eyes flick past Theo’s shoulder into the apartment. “Everything okay?
Theo’s about to brush him off when the cat chooses that exact moment to trot across the living room, tail high, meowing like she’s greeting an old friend. Liam’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Is that a cat?”
“No,” Theo says flatly. The calico winds around his ankles, betraying him instantly. He glares down at her. “Traitor.”
Liam’s expression does something irritating — half incredulous, half amused. “You have a cat.”
“I don’t. She just…showed up.” Theo’s voice comes out defensive, like he’s been accused of a crime.
“And you fed her?”
Theo shrugs, folding his arms. “She wouldn’t leave.”
Liam steps inside without waiting for permission, crouching to scratch behind the calico’s ear. She leans into the touch, purring loud enough that Theo’s sure the whole building can hear. Liam looks up at him, smirking. “She likes me.”
“She likes anyone who feeds her.”
“That’s not true. Cats are picky.”
“Great. Then she’ll get bored and go find someone else.”
But the words feel hollow, even to Theo. He’s already bought actual cat food and a litter box, even though he swears he didn’t mean to. It just happened. Like the moment he saw her, some switch got flipped in his brain and suddenly he couldn’t stand the idea of her fending for herself.
Liam keeps petting her, his smile softening. “What’s her name?”
Theo opens his mouth, then shuts it. He hasn’t given her one. Every time he tries, the words stick in his throat. Names mean ownership, permanence, something he’s not supposed to want.
“She doesn’t have one,” he mutters.
Liam raises a brow. “You’ve had her how long and you didn’t name her?”
“Not planning to keep her.”
The calico hops into Liam’s lap, kneading his jeans with sharp little claws. Theo scowls.
“Sure,” Liam says, like he doesn’t believe a word. “She definitely looks temporary.”
Theo turns away, busying himself with stacking dishes that don’t need stacking. But he can feel Liam’s eyes on him, sharp and curious, like he’s peeling back layers Theo would rather keep sealed.
Over the next few weeks, the calico becomes a fixture. She’s there when Theo comes home late, waiting by the door like she knew exactly when he’d arrive. She’s there when nightmares drag him awake, climbing onto his chest with steady purrs until his heart stops racing. She’s there when Liam starts dropping by more often, using excuses like “pack updates” or “Scott wanted me to check on you,” but Theo knows the truth. He doesn’t call him on it. Not when Liam always ends up sitting cross-legged on the floor with the cat in his lap, talking to her in a voice softer than Theo’s ever heard.
One evening, Liam’s sprawled on the couch with the calico draped across his chest, her paws kneading lazily as she dozes. Theo watches from the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a beer in his hand.
“You’re spoiling her,” Theo says.
“She deserves it,” Liam answers without opening his eyes. “She’s probably been on the streets for months.”
Theo swallows, the words hitting something in him that feels too familiar. He thinks about his own time wandering, no one waiting, no place to land. He clears his throat, changes the subject. “You’re gonna make her fat.”
“She’s happy,” Liam says, still stroking the cat’s fur like it’s the most important thing in the world. Finally, his eyes open, that steady blue gaze catching Theo’s. “When’s the last time you saw that look on your own face?”
Theo’s throat tightens, beer bottle suddenly heavy in his hand. He’s not going to answer that. He doesn’t need to — Liam doesn’t press, doesn’t push him over the edge of it, just smiles a little and turns his attention back to the calico, scratching under her chin until she lets out another contented purr.
“You still haven’t named her,” Liam says casually.
Theo groans, tipping his head back against the cabinet. “She doesn’t need a name.”
“Of course she does. You can’t keep calling her ‘the cat.’”
“She’s not mine.”
Liam looks down at the bundle of fur stretched across his chest, then back at Theo with an arched brow. “Right. She just lives here. Eats your food. Sleeps in your bed. Totally not yours.”
Theo narrows his eyes. “You’re annoying.”
“Persistent,” Liam corrects, grinning. “What about Daisy?”
Theo blinks. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay, fine. Nala?”
“Too Disney.”
Liam hums thoughtfully, unbothered. “Patches?”
Theo wants to shoot it down too, but the word settles in his chest in a way that makes his shoulders tense. It fits, and he hates that it does. Liam notices — the corners of his mouth curve up in smug triumph.
“You like it,” Liam says, sing-song, and Theo scowls.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Liam strokes Patches’s back, her purring growing louder. “See? She likes it too.”
Theo mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse but doesn’t argue further. He goes to put his empty beer bottle in the sink, and when he glances back, Liam’s still sprawled comfortably on his couch, Patches draped over him like she was made to fit there. For reasons Theo refuses to acknowledge, the sight makes something warm curl in his chest.
By the time the night deepens and the apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the fridge, Liam is still there. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave, and Theo doesn’t tell him to. They end up on the couch side by side, Patches stretched across both their laps, her little body radiating heat. Liam’s arm brushes against Theo’s more often than it needs to, but neither of them make any more to shift away.
The apartment settles into that deep, late-night quiet, the kind where even the hum of the refrigerator feels too loud. Theo pretends to keep watching the muted glow of the TV, but his attention keeps drifting sideways — to Liam’s head lolling slightly toward his shoulder, his breaths coming slower, steadier. Patches has melted into a boneless puddle across both their laps, her purrs the only steady rhythm in the room.
Theo shifts carefully, meaning to stand and give the kid a nudge toward the door, but Liam’s head tilts further, nearly landing against his shoulder before he catches himself. His eyes blink open, unfocused and heavy-lidded, and Theo huffs out a quiet breath.
“You’re falling asleep on my couch,” Theo says, keeping his voice low so it doesn’t come out like the admission it is — that the weight of Liam leaning toward him makes something in his chest ache.
“M’not,” Liam mumbles, though his words are thick with exhaustion. He rubs a hand over his face but doesn’t bother sitting up straighter. “Just… resting my eyes.”
Theo rolls his eyes. “Right. And I like dogs.”
That earns him a small, sleepy laugh. Liam’s smile is crooked as he scratches Patches absently, his fingers slowing as his head dips again. Theo watches him for another long moment, then exhales and carefully lifts the calico into his arms. She chirps a soft protest but settles quickly against his chest.
“Come on,” Theo mutters. He jerks his head toward the hallway. “You can take the bed. I’ll crash out here.”
That gets Liam’s attention — his eyes open properly, confusion and stubbornness sharpening through the sleepiness. “What? No. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
Theo shrugs, already heading toward the hall with Patches tucked under his arm. “It’s fine. Couch is better than the years I spent sleeping in a truck.”
Liam frowns, unfolding from the couch with slower movements, padding after him. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”
Theo stops at the bedroom door, arching a brow. “Then what’s your plan?”
Liam meets his look, unflinching despite the tired droop of his shoulders. “We share it.”
Theo blinks. “Excuse me?”
Liam lifts one shoulder in an easy shrug, like it’s the most normal suggestion in the world. “I used to share a bed with Mason all the time. It’s not a big deal.”
Theo stares at him, searching for the crack in his calm, for the hint of hesitation. There isn’t one. Just that stubborn certainty Liam’s always carried — half confidence, half innocence.
“You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.” Liam steps past him into the bedroom, toeing off his shoes and tossing himself onto the mattress without ceremony. He lands on his back, stretches out, and pats the space beside him. “Bed’s big enough. Unless you’re afraid I snore.”
Theo narrows his eyes, setting Patches down at the foot of the bed where she immediately curls up as if to prove Liam right—that this is her territory now, and they’re just guests.
“This is ridiculous,” Theo mutters, dragging a hand down his face.
Liam smirks, already half-buried in the pillow. “Then stop stalling and get in.”
For a long moment Theo just stands there, the weight of the choice pressing down on him. Then, with a muttered curse, he gives in. He kicks off his boots, shrugs out of his jacket, and lies down on the far edge of the mattress, as far from Liam as possible without falling off.
Theo stares at the ceiling, every muscle tense, painfully aware of the warmth radiating from the body beside him. He thinks Liam’s already drifting off when he hears the kid’s voice, quiet and soft in the dark.
“See? Not so bad.”
Theo shuts his eyes, fighting the twitch of a smile at his mouth. “Go to sleep, Dunbar.”
Liam hums, the sound dissolving into a yawn, and within minutes his breathing evens out. Theo lies awake longer, listening to it, the steady rhythm pressing against something raw in him until the tension finally eases.
Eventually, he lets himself drift too — caught between the warmth of the cat at his feet, the steady presence at his side, and the startling thought that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind sharing space after all.
——————
Theo wakes to warmth he doesn’t recognize. Not the thin blanket he usually tosses off in his sleep, not the muted hum of the fridge bleeding through from the kitchen. This is heavier, steadier — the heat of another body near his own. His eyes open slowly, his first instinct ready to snap sharp and defensive, but the threat never comes.
Liam is there, curled loosely on his side, one arm draped across the middle of the bed as if even asleep he’s trying to reach out. His hair is a mess, sticking in uneven tufts, and his mouth is parted just enough that Theo can hear the steady pull of breath. He looks younger like this, softer in a way Theo isn’t sure how to handle.
At the foot of the bed, Patches is curled into a small, tight ball of fur, her purrs rumbling in her sleep.
Theo lies still, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about how natural it feels — the bed not empty, the apartment not silent, the press of warmth against his side not unwelcome. It’s dangerous, letting his guard drop like this. Dangerous to let himself want. But the thing is, he does.
He stays like that longer than he means to, until Liam stirs with a low groan and buries his face in the pillow. When his eyes finally blink open, squinting against the weak morning light, they land on Theo. For half a second there’s confusion, then recognition, and finally a slow, sleepy smile that Theo feels all the way to his ribs.
“Morning,” Liam mutters, voice rough with sleep.
Theo clears his throat, trying not to stare. “You drool in your sleep.”
Liam groans again, tossing the pillow at him weakly. Theo catches it, smiling despite himself. Patches chooses that moment to stretch and climb toward them, her paws kneading at Theo’s stomach until he grunts.
“Guess someone’s hungry,” Liam says, sitting up and ruffling his hair into even worse disarray. He scoops Patches up, cradling her like he’s done it a hundred times before. She nuzzles into his chest without hesitation. “Come on, girl. Let’s get you breakfast.”
Theo stays in bed for a moment, listening to the sound of Liam’s footsteps padding into the kitchen, the clink of a cabinet door opening. It should feel invasive — someone else moving through his space like they belong there — but it doesn’t. He drags himself up and follows, bare feet quiet against the floor.
Liam already has the cat food open by the time Theo steps into the kitchen, crouched low as he sets the bowl down. Patches dives in, her purrs mixing with the sound of her crunching. Liam watches her with a grin too soft for this hour of the morning.
“You’re spoiling her,” Theo says, echoing the words from last night.
“She deserves it,” Liam shoots back without missing a beat. Then he glances up, blue eyes bright even in the dull light of the kitchen. “She’s your cat now, you know.”
Theo frowns, moving to the counter to start the coffee maker, mostly to avoid looking at him. “She’s not mine.”
“Uh-huh.” Liam straightens, leaning against the counter next to him. “You’re the one who feeds her. And let’s be real — she picked you.”
Theo grits his teeth, filling the carafe. “Cats don’t pick people.”
“They do. Mason told me.”
Theo snorts. “Mason also believes in horoscopes.”
“That doesn’t make him wrong,” Liam says, and the smug tilt of his mouth is enough to make Theo want to argue more, except the coffee maker chooses that moment to sputter and hiss. The smell of brewing coffee fills the room, cutting through the morning haze.
Liam shifts closer, reaching for the mugs hanging from the rack without asking, like he’s done this before. He pours them both cups, sliding one toward Theo.
Theo eyes him suspiciously. “You even know how I take it?”
“Black,” Liam answers easily.
Theo blinks. “…Lucky guess.”
Liam smirks over the rim of his mug. “Or maybe I just pay attention.”
Theo doesn’t respond, but his ears burn all the same. They drink in silence, leaning against opposite counters, the quiet surprisingly easy. Patches finishes her breakfast and trots back into the room, leaping onto the table with the kind of entitlement Theo swore he’d never allow. Liam laughs, reaching out to scratch under her chin.
“You need to get her stuff,” Liam says.
Theo raises a brow. “She has food.”
“And a litter box that looks like it’s from 1995,” Liam points out. “She needs a bed. And toys. And one of those scratching post things so she doesn’t destroy your couch.”
Theo groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insane. She’s happy as she is.”
Liam sets his mug down, bright with determination now. “We should go to the pet store today. Get her set up properly.”
Theo stares at him. “We?”
“Yeah, we,” Liam says like it’s obvious. “You’ll pick the boring stuff. I’ll pick the fun stuff. She’ll love me more for it.”
Theo scoffs, but Patches chooses that moment to rub against Liam’s arm, as if she’s agreeing with him. Liam grins in triumph, scratching behind her ears until she flops dramatically onto the counter.
“You’re encouraging her,” Theo mutters.
“I’m bonding with her,” Liam corrects. “Something you clearly need help with.”
Theo narrows his eyes. “She sleeps on me every night.”
“Because you’re warm,” Liam says, grinning wider. “Cats like warmth.”
Theo huffs, finishing his coffee in one swallow. But the truth lingers—Liam is right. About all of it. And the thought of walking into a pet store with him, of letting him pick out toys and argue about catnip mice versus feather wands, feels… less unbearable than it should.
When Theo sets his mug in the sink, Liam is already at the door, slipping on his shoes with a smile. “Come on. You’re not getting out of this.”
Theo grabs his keys from the counter, muttering under his breath about bad decisions. Patches meows from her perch on the table like she’s giving her blessing, tail flicking once before she curls back into herself. Theo sighs. He’s not sure when he lost control of his own life, but apparently a stray calico and a stubborn beta are the ones running it now.
The morning air outside is crisp, the kind of sharp bite that makes Theo tuck his chin deeper into his jacket as they head for his truck. Liam looks annoyingly awake now, energy buzzing off him like static, and he hops into the passenger seat without hesitation.
Theo slides in behind the wheel, and before he even gets the key in the ignition, Liam is already poking around at the controls. He fiddles with the vents, adjusting them toward himself, then clicks the radio on and starts flipping through stations with no regard for the fact that it’s not his car.
Theo gives him a flat look. “You done?”
“Just making myself comfortable,” Liam says innocently, settling back against the seat as if he owns it. He finds a station playing something upbeat and leaves it there, drumming his fingers against his knee in time with the beat.
Theo should shut it off. Should reclaim control like he always does. But instead, he just starts the engine, letting the music fill the cab. Liam grins, rolling the window down an inch to let the cool air in.
By the time they hit the main road, Liam has adjusted the rearview mirror—despite the fact that he’s not driving—tilted his seat back, and found the lever for the glovebox. He pulls it open, rummages through the sparse contents, and holds up an old pair of sunglasses.
“Seriously?” Theo asks, side-eyeing him.
“They’re classic,” Liam says, sliding them on. They’re too big for his face, slipping down his nose, but he wears them with exaggerated seriousness. “What? You don’t like them?”
Theo bites back a laugh, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “You look like an idiot.”
“An idiot who looks good,” Liam counters, smirking as he tips the glasses down just enough to peer at him.
Theo shakes his head, eyes on the road, but the corners of his mouth twitch. He doesn’t stop Liam when he keeps the sunglasses on, doesn’t stop him when he reaches out to fiddle with the dial again, lowering the music slightly. It feels… normal. Strange, but normal.
The drive is short, but it stretches in a way Theo doesn’t hate. Liam fills the silence with easy chatter, pointing out a dog sticking its head out of a passing car window, laughing at a squirrel that nearly darts into the road. Theo only hums responses, but he listens. He lets the sound of Liam’s voice wash over him, grounding and irritating all at once.
When the neon sign of the pet store comes into view, Liam sits up straighter, practically bouncing in his seat. “This is gonna be great,” he says, like they’re on their way to a concert instead of buying scratching posts and litter scoops.
Theo pulls into the lot, parks, and cuts the engine. He leans back, giving Liam a dry look. “You’re acting like this is for you.”
“It is,” Liam says brightly, already unbuckling. “I’m the fun uncle. You’re the boring dad. She’s gonna love me more.”
Theo groans, dragging a hand over his face. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Liam says easily, slipping out of the truck and slamming the door behind him.
Theo sits there for a second longer, watching him jog toward the store with that same endless energy, and mutters to himself, “Unfortunately.”
Theo finally drags himself out of the truck and into the store, already bracing for whatever whirlwind Liam is about to unleash. The bell above the door jingles as they step inside, the air smelling faintly of hay, dog food, and the sharp tang of cleaner.
Liam’s eyes light up like he’s a kid at Christmas. “Okay,” he says, clapping his hands once. “Mission: spoil Patches.”
Theo groans. “She’s a cat, not a queen.”
“She could be both,” Liam shoots back immediately, heading straight for the nearest aisle. Theo follows, because apparently he’s lost all control of his life.
The first stop is scratching posts. Liam gestures grandly at one taller than Theo, complete with multiple levels, dangling toys, and even a small ramp. “This one.”
“She doesn’t need a jungle gym.” Theo folds his arms, glaring at it. “She’s eight pounds. She needs a cardboard box.”
Liam presses his lips together, then spins dramatically to grab a smaller, simpler post from the shelf. “Fine. Compromise. But she deserves at least one upgrade.”
Theo sighs but doesn’t stop him from tossing it into the cart.
The next aisle is toys. Liam grabs a feathery wand, shakes it at Theo, and grins when Theo instinctively bats it away from his face. “See? Even you can’t resist.”
Theo growls, “Put it back.”
Liam adds it to the cart. “She’ll love it.”
Within minutes, the cart is filling with little plush mice, balls with bells inside, a packet of catnip, and a collar with a dangling silver tag. Theo tries half-hearted protests, but every time he glances at Liam’s wide grin, the words catch in his throat. He settles for muttering, “Ridiculous,” under his breath.
When they pass the beds, Liam holds up a soft, round one that looks more like a throne than a pet accessory. “She needs this.”
“She already has my bed,” Theo says flatly.
“Exactly. You’ll get more room back if she has her own.”
“She won’t use it.”
“She will if I train her to.”
Theo pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not gonna work.”
But the bed goes in the cart anyway.
By the time they reach the register, Theo can barely see over the pile of supplies. He looks at the total as it flashes on the screen and winces. “She’d better live forever.”
“She will,” Liam says confidently.
Theo is about to retort when the cashier, a woman around their age with a bright smile, scans the last item and glances between them. “She’s a lucky cat,” she says warmly. “You two are clearly obsessed. Most couples don’t spoil their pets this much.”
Theo chokes on air. “We’re not—”
“Yes,” Liam cuts in smoothly, not even missing a beat. He leans casually against the counter, grin soft but deliberate. “She runs the place. We just live there.”
The cashier laughs, handing him the bagged items. “Well, she’s got the right idea.”
Theo grabs the bags like they’ve personally offended him, muttering under his breath as he shoves his card back into his wallet. He doesn’t even look at Liam, not with the smug grin radiating off the beta like sunlight. The cashier calls a cheerful goodbye, and Theo all but bolts for the door, bags rattling in his grip.
Liam jogs a few steps to catch up, the ridiculous sunglasses still perched on his nose. “That went well,” he says lightly.
Theo swings him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re blushing.”
“I am not.” Theo’s ears are burning, his jaw set so tight it aches. He yanks open the truck door, tossing the bags onto the back seat with more force than necessary. “You could’ve corrected her.”
“Why would I do that?” Liam slides into the passenger seat, buckling in with maddening ease. “It wasn’t wrong.”
Theo slams his own door shut, gripping the steering wheel like it might steady him. “It was absolutely wrong.”
“You let her believe it.” Liam tips the sunglasses down again, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Which means you didn’t mind.”
Theo growls low in his throat, starting the engine just to fill the cab with noise. He tells himself to focus on the road, on the white lines flashing beneath the tires, not on the boy beside him who’s leaning back in his seat with that satisfied little smirk.
The drive back is quiet, but not heavy. Liam hums along with the radio, tapping the beat against the door. Theo doesn’t tell him to stop. He doesn’t even change the station when a pop song comes on—something Liam likes, judging by the way his head bobs in time.
By the time they pull into the lot outside Theo’s apartment, some of the heat has drained from Theo’s face. He kills the engine, but Liam doesn’t move, just waits, looking at him with a patience Theo’s not used to.
Finally, Liam says, soft but sure, “It wouldn’t be the worst thing, you know. People thinking that.”
Theo stares at him, pulse spiking in his throat, but Liam only pushes the sunglasses up into his hair and grabs a couple of the lighter bags, sliding out of the truck before Theo can think of a response.
Inside, Patches is perched on the back of the couch like a queen awaiting tribute. She meows once, sharp and commanding, and Liam laughs as he sets the bags down. “Told you she runs the place.”
Theo exhales, shoulders tight as he shuts the door behind them. He watches Liam unpack the haul—spreading toys across the floor, fluffing the ridiculous bed before setting it in a corner, shaking the bag of treats until Patches hops down to investigate. The cat’s immediate interest earns Liam a grin of pure triumph.
“She loves it,” Liam announces.
“She loves food,” Theo mutters, but the corner of his mouth betrays him, tugging upward when Patches rolls dramatically into the new bed.
Liam crouches beside her, scratching under her chin. “Told you I’d train her.”
Theo leans against the counter, arms crossed, but something warm coils low in his chest as he watches them — boy and cat both sprawled comfortably in his living room, like they’ve always belonged here. It feels dangerously close to something he can’t put words to.
And when Liam glances up at him, eyes bright, smile unguarded, Theo has to look away, muttering again just to fill the silence:
“She’s a cat, not a queen.”
Liam laughs, low and fond. “Then why does it feel like she’s already got you wrapped around her paw?”
Theo doesn’t answer, at least not out loud. His throat feels too tight for words anyway. Patches purrs under Liam’s hand, the sound filling the room with an odd kind of peace, like even she knows she’s won something here.
Liam stays crouched on the floor, cross-legged now, scattering toys like he’s laying out treasures for royalty. Patches paws at a stuffed mouse and bats it across the floor, her little claws clicking faintly against the wood. Liam laughs, reaching to roll a jingly ball toward her, and she chases it with an enthusiasm that makes him grin even wider.
Theo watches, arms still folded, but it doesn’t feel defensive anymore. It feels… grounding. He doesn’t remember the last time his apartment felt this alive—like a place people live in, not just a place he sleeps.
“You know,” Liam says without looking up, voice casual but too deliberate to be careless, “she’s not the only one who likes it here.”
Theo blinks, caught off guard. “What?”
“I’m just saying.” Liam finally glances back, smile soft now instead of sharp. “You’ve got good coffee. Decent music taste, when you’re not being grumpy about it. And the company’s… not terrible.”
Theo scoffs, but it comes out weaker than he means it to. “High praise.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Liam tosses a toy mouse toward Patches, who immediately pounces. His eyes flick back to Theo, linger a second longer than necessary, and something in Theo’s chest twists.
Theo looks away first, busying himself with one of the bags still on the counter. He pulls out the collar Liam insisted on— a soft fabric band with a little silver tag that catches the light. The tag reads Patches in neat letters, the back engraved with Theo’s number. His number.
“She doesn’t need this,” he mutters, turning it over in his hand.
“She does,” Liam says simply, getting to his feet. He comes over, close enough that Theo can feel the faint heat radiating off him. “Here. I’ll put it on her.”
Before Theo can protest, Liam plucks the collar from his fingers and crouches again. Patches, traitorous as ever, allows him to slip it around her neck without so much as a fuss. She shakes once, the tag jingling, then struts off like she’s always owned the place.
“She looks good,” Liam says, smiling as he stands again. “Like she belongs.”
Theo’s mouth goes dry. “It’s just a collar.”
“Sure.” Liam’s grin tilts, softer at the edges now, less playful and more — something else. Something heavier. “Just a collar.”
Theo stays by the counter a moment longer, watching Liam lean down to scratch Patches again, watching the way his smile softens when the cat curls up against his side. It’s too much. Too normal. Too dangerous.
And yet, when he finally moves, he doesn’t retreat to his room or try to reclaim the quiet. He drops onto the opposite end of the couch, not close enough to touch but not far either. Patches blinks at him once, then promptly stretches herself across both of them, as if she’s claiming them both in one go.
Theo freezes when Patches sprawls out, her warm little body bridging the space between them. One paw rests against his thigh, claws kneading lazily into the denim of his jeans, while her tail flicks against Liam’s arm. She’s purring so loud it almost drowns out the pounding of Theo’s pulse. Almost.
Liam glances sideways, grinning like this is exactly how he planned it. “Told you. She knows what’s up.”
Theo scoffs, but it comes out softer than he intends. “She’s a cat. She doesn’t know anything.”
“Mm. Disagree.” Liam scratches lightly behind Patches’ ear, eyes lingering on Theo instead of the cat. “She knows who she likes.”
Theo wants to argue. Wants to point out that cats like whoever feeds them, whoever buys them overpriced toys and ridiculous beds. But the words stay caught in his throat, tangled with the way Liam’s knee is just a few inches away, the way the couch suddenly feels too small.
They sit like that for a while, the TV humming in the background with some late afternoon rerun neither of them is watching. Patches’ purr fills the silences, steady and grounding. Liam eventually leans back, slouching until his shoulder brushes the cushion behind Theo, their bodies angled just enough that Theo can feel the ghost of his warmth.
He should get up. Make an excuse. But instead he shifts just enough to get comfortable, resting an arm along the back of the couch. Liam doesn’t move away.
“You’re quieter than usual,” Liam says finally, voice low, almost tentative.
Theo narrows his eyes. “You think you know what my ‘usual’ is?”
Liam shrugs, not looking at him, still petting Patches with slow, easy strokes. “Yeah. I pay attention to you.”
That again. The same words he’d thrown at Theo this morning over coffee, and just like then, it lands heavier than it should. Theo swallows, the sharp retort dissolving before he can say it.
Instead, he mutters, “Dangerous habit.”
Liam finally meets his gaze, steady in a way that makes Theo want to squirm. But he doesn’t. He holds it, even as something unspoken flickers between them. Something neither of them is ready to name.
Patches stretches, rolling onto her back, paws twitching in dream or demand. Liam chuckles and obliges, rubbing her belly until she kicks at his hand playfully. His laugh softens the edges of the moment, and Theo lets himself breathe again.
“Fine,” Theo says, leaning back deeper into the cushions. “She can stay.”
Liam’s grin is immediate, triumphant but warm. “Knew you’d cave.”
——————
By the time the sun dips low, painting the sky outside in bruised purples and fading gold, Theo realizes two things: one, Patches has claimed her ridiculous new bed like she was born to it, and two, Liam hasn’t left yet.
Not that Theo told him to go. He didn’t. He kept expecting Liam to get up, make some excuse about needing to be home, but instead Liam stretched out on the couch, played with the cat, and kept filling the room with chatter.
Now, with evening settling in, Liam pushes himself up and looks around Theo’s kitchen with the kind of critical eye Theo associates with hunters sizing up prey.
“You don’t have any real food,” Liam declares after rifling through cabinets.
Theo lifts a brow from where he’s leaning against the counter. “I’ve got ramen. Cereal. Coffee.”
“That’s not food, Theo.” Liam pulls open the fridge, groans, and shuts it like it personally offended him. “Seriously? You can’t live off this.”
Theo shrugs, unbothered. “I have been.”
“Yeah, and that explains a lot.” Liam mutters it under his breath but turns back, jaw set in determination. “I’m cooking.”
Theo blinks. “With what? Half a loaf of bread and — what — even older bread?”
“There’s eggs,” Liam says, already pulling things out. “And canned soup. And pasta. I can work with this.”
Theo watches in disbelief as Liam starts moving around his kitchen like he owns the place, sleeves shoved up, hair falling into his eyes. He cracks eggs into a pan with practiced ease, digs up garlic powder from the back of the cabinet, tosses leftover vegetables into a pot like he’s been preparing for this exact scenario.
“You done?” Theo asks dryly, arms crossed.
“Nope,” Liam says cheerfully, like the sound of sizzling eggs is proof he’s won. “You’re officially banned from feeding yourself.”
Theo snorts. “You can’t ban me from my own kitchen.”
“I just did.” Liam doesn’t even look up, too busy stirring. “From now on, I’m cooking. You can handle the dishes. Division of labor.”
Theo opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. He just watches, silent, as Liam moves around with this strange mixture of focus and ease, filling the apartment with smells Theo hasn’t had in… a long time.
Dinner ends up being a Frankenstein’s monster of pasta, fried eggs, and reheated vegetables, but it’s warm, filling, and far better than anything Theo would’ve bothered with. Liam sets the plates down like he’s proud of himself, sliding into the seat across from him.
“See? Actual food.”
Theo eyes it, then takes a bite. His lips twitch. “Not terrible.”
Liam grins, wide and smug. “You’re welcome.”
Patches hops onto the table, nose twitching as she investigates. Liam gently nudges her away. “Not for you, troublemaker. You’ve had enough.”
Theo takes another forkful of the cobbled-together dinner, chewing slower than he needs to. It’s not because the food’s bad — if anything, it’s too good. Too warm. Too much like something that belongs in a home, not the bare-bones shell of an apartment he’s kept himself in.
Across the table, Liam props his chin on one hand, watching him with that insufferable grin that says he knows exactly what Theo’s thinking.
“You like it,” Liam says, smug.
Theo doesn’t even bother denying it. “It’s edible.”
Liam laughs, the sound low and bright, bouncing off the walls like it belongs here more than the silence Theo usually lives with. “Edible. That’s your glowing review? You’d starve if it weren’t for me.”
Theo raises a brow, setting his fork down. “You planning on moving in, then? Cooking for me every night?”
It’s meant to be sharp, biting enough to cut the tension before it gets dangerous. But Liam doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back off. If anything, his grin softens into something steadier, more deliberate.
Theo scowls, mostly to cover the way his pulse jumps. “You’re so unbearable.”
“And yet here you are. Still letting me take over your kitchen. Still eating the food I cooked for you.” Liam tilts his head, gaze sharp but playful. “Still not kicking me out.”
Theo doesn’t answer that. Can’t. Because the truth is, Liam’s right. He should’ve sent him home hours ago, the way he always does. But instead he’s sitting here across from him, eating a meal that feels more like a memory than anything he’s had in years, watching Liam laugh with a cat like this apartment was always meant to hold more than just one person.
It’s dangerous. Too easy. Too close.
Liam finishes eating first, pushing his plate aside and stretching out in his chair like he owns the place. He looks at Theo, openly now, none of the usual hesitance he wears around the pack. Just that steady, infuriating warmth.
“You know, you’re not half as scary as you want people to think.”
Theo’s fork clatters against the plate. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” Liam’s grin tugs higher, mischievous but fond. “You pretend like you’re this big bad lone wolf, but—” He gestures around the kitchen, at the spread of plates and the cat curled in his lap. “This is the most domestic I’ve seen anyone in a while. You’re practically glowing.”
Theo feels heat crawl up the back of his neck, sharp and unwelcome. “I am not—”
“You are.” Liam cuts him off, delight in his voice. “Look at you. Sitting here like you don’t hate it. Admit it, you like having me around.”
Theo glares at him, every muscle tight. The easy thing to do would be to lie. To snap back, shut this whole thing down before it cracks open something he can’t control.
But when he opens his mouth, the words don’t come. Not when Liam’s looking at him like that—like he sees right through the armor Theo’s built, and doesn’t hate what’s underneath.
Instead, Theo mutters, “You talk too much.”
Liam beams, like that’s the closest thing to a confession he needs. “And yet you have denied it. I say that’s a win for me.”
Theo shoves the last bite of pasta into his mouth just to avoid answering.
They clean up together after dinner, Liam insisting on drying dishes while Theo washes, bumping elbows whenever the counter space gets too tight. Patches winds between their ankles, meowing like she’s narrating every move. By the time the kitchen’s clean again, Theo’s chest aches in a way that feels both too sharp and too soft.
Liam drops back onto the couch, stretching out like he owns that too. He pats the cushion beside him, grin cocky. “Come on. You’re not gonna hide over there all night.”
Theo hesitates, but only for a second before sinking down onto the other end. Patches climbs into the space between them once more. Liam’s fingers absentmindedly stroke over her fur, his head tipping back against the cushions.
It looks comfortable. It looks dangerous. It looks like home.
Theo tears his gaze away, fixing it on the dark window instead. He doesn’t notice Liam watching him until the boy says, quiet but sure, “I like being here.”
Theo’s chest tightens. “Don’t get used to it.”
But Liam only smirks, eyes glinting in the dim light. “Too late.”
Theo forces a scoff, pushes himself up before the weight in his chest cracks him wide open. “It’s late. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”
Liam groans, dragging a hand down his face like Theo just reminded him of a death sentence. “Unfortunately.” He stands, brushing cat hair from his jeans, and Patches meows her protest at losing her pillow. Liam bends to scratch her one last time, soft and easy. “You’ll miss me, won’t you, Patch?”
Theo watches from the doorway, something twisting in his chest at the casual affection in Liam’s voice. At how right it looks, him here, in this apartment that’s always felt too empty.
When Liam grabs his jacket, Theo blurts —quieter than he means to — “You could stay.”
Liam freezes, halfway into the sleeve. His eyes flick up, wide for just a beat before that familiar grin tugs at his mouth. “Tempting. But I’d fail chemistry if I did.”
Theo swallows hard, forcing a shrug like it doesn’t matter. “Suit yourself.”
But when Liam steps out into the hallway, when the door clicks shut behind him, the apartment feels too still. Too cold. Patches hops onto the arm of the couch, meowing once before curling into the empty cushion Liam left behind.
——————
Theo wakes with a start, every muscle tense before his brain catches up. There’s noise in the apartment — soft clatter, something rustling, the faint scrape of a cabinet closing. Instinct has him halfway upright before he even realizes Patches is sprawled across his chest, tail flicking lazily. She meows once, annoyed at being disturbed, before hopping down and trotting toward the sound.
Theo slips off the couch, silent out of habit, every sense sharp. He’s ready for trouble. Ready for an intruder.
What he’s not ready for is the sight of Liam Dunbar in his kitchen at seven in the morning, unloading grocery bags onto the counter like he owns the place.
Theo freezes in the doorway, heartbeat still too fast. “What the hell are you doing?”
Liam looks up, completely unfazed, grinning like Theo didn’t just stalk in like a predator about to rip someone’s throat out. “Morning. I brought you groceries.”
Theo blinks, because his brain refuses to process the words in that order. “You what?”
“Groceries,” Liam repeats, holding up a carton of eggs like it’s proof. “You were running on fumes last night, so I stopped at the store.”
Theo rubs a hand over his face, still half-convinced this is some kind of fever dream. “It’s seven a.m. You have school.”
“And?” Liam shoves a loaf of bread into the freezer, efficient. “I had time.”
Theo gestures sharply, incredulous. “You’re gonna be late.”
Liam just shrugs, grabbing a box of cereal next. “You think Coach cares if I’m five minutes late? He’s just glad I don’t set things on fire anymore.”
Theo drags a hand down his face, groaning. “Still, Liam, you’ve school.”
“It’s fine,” Liam says, smirking. “Seriously, Theo, your fridge looked like a crime scene. You need actual food if you’re gonna function.”
Theo crosses his arms, glaring. “My health does not come before your homework.”
“Yes, it does.” Liam says it like it’s obvious, like there’s no room for argument. “Homework’s just numbers on a page. You passing out from starvation is a bigger problem.”
Theo’s jaw tightens, words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.
Patches hops up onto the counter, nose twitching as she investigates the groceries. Liam automatically reaches out, scratching behind her ears with his free hand while the other keeps unpacking. Like it’s nothing. Like this is just normal.
Liam pulls out a jar of peanut butter, sets it on the counter with a flourish. “Congratulations, Raeken. You’re officially stocked.”
Theo stares at the pile of food, then at Liam, then back again. His chest feels tight, and it’s not from hunger.
“You’re going to be late,” he says again, softer this time, like if he repeats it enough, it’ll cover the way his pulse won’t settle.
Liam just grabs an apple from the bag, tossing it up and catching it with casual ease. “Relax. I’ll survive. What matters is you’ve got enough food to last more than forty-eight hours.” He bites into the apple, smirking around the mouthful. “See? Crisis averted.”
Theo shakes his head, sinking onto the nearest chair because standing feels too much like bracing against a hit. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Liam leans against the counter, still chewing, still watching him with that infuriating, steady warmth. “But you like that I did.”
Theo opens his mouth to argue, to snap, to deny it — but Patches meows loudly, batting at a grocery bag like she’s agreeing with Liam, and Theo shuts his mouth with a scowl.
Theo scowls harder, mostly at himself, because he can’t think of a decent comeback. He’s still staring at Liam like the kid sprouted another head when a paper bag slides across the counter toward him.
Theo blinks. “What’s that?”
“Breakfast,” Liam says simply, licking apple juice from his thumb. “Egg McMuffin, hash brown, coffee. Figured you wouldn’t have eaten yet.”
Theo squints, suspicious. He peeks inside, the unmistakable smell of McDonald’s rising up. “You went grocery shopping and picked up fast food?”
“Yeah. Groceries are for later, this is for now.” Liam’s grin is maddeningly smug, like he’s already won. “You’re welcome.”
Theo narrows his eyes, but his stomach betrays him with a low growl. He tears open the wrapper with a muttered curse, biting into the sandwich. Warm, salty, greasy. Perfect. He hates how good it tastes. Hates more that Liam is watching him like he just solved world hunger.
“You’re ridiculous,” Theo mutters around a mouthful.
“You’ve said that, like, five times now,” Liam shoots back, teeth flashing in a grin. “Starting to sound like you mean the opposite.”
Theo glares, but it doesn’t stick. The coffee is hot, the food is good, and the tension in his chest loosens just a little, despite himself.
Then a thought hits him, sharp and grounding. He sets the sandwich down, eyes narrowing again. “Wait. How the hell did you even get here?”
Liam blinks, like he hadn’t expected the question. “Uh. Mason drove me.”
Theo stares. “Mason? Mason is outside?”
Liam shrugs, way too casual for the absurdity of it. “Yeah. He’s waiting in the car. I told him it’d only be a few minutes.”
Theo shoots up from the chair, gesturing wildly at the door. “You mean to tell me Mason has been sitting out there this whole time while you—” he points at the pile of groceries, “—raid my kitchen, reorganize my fridge, and feed my cat?”
“Feed you,” Liam corrects smoothly, biting into his apple again like this is normal. “I fed you.”
Theo stares, words drying up in his throat. “You’re insane.”
Liam leans back against the counter, apple in hand, smirk tugging at his lips, but there’s something softer in his eyes. “Maybe. But I care about you, so you’re stuck with it.”
The words land heavier than Theo expects, knocking the air out of him for a second. He forces his gaze away, muttering, “You’re gonna be late for school.”
Liam just shrugs, unbothered. “So what? You ate breakfast. That’s more important.”
Theo pinches the bridge of his nose like it’ll help the way his chest is tightening. “God, you’re hopeless.”
“Hopelessly devoted,” Liam says without hesitation, the grin returning, sharper this time, because he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Theo chokes on his coffee, sputtering. “You—you can’t just—”
“Say the truth?” Liam’s voice is light, teasing, but underneath it is something that makes Theo’s pulse race too fast, too loud.
Theo scowls, shoving the McDonald’s bag aside like it might help him focus. “Get out of here before Mason comes knocking.”
Liam pushes off the counter, gathering his backpack from the floor. “Fine, fine.” He pauses to scratch Patches one last time, voice dropping softer. “But I’ll be back later. Someone’s gotta make sure you eat dinner too.”
Theo doesn’t answer. Can’t. His throat is too tight. He just watches as Liam heads for the door, tossing one last grin over his shoulder, all sunshine and certainty.
The door clicks shut, and suddenly the apartment feels way too quiet, the smell of McDonald’s still lingering in the air.
Patches jumps onto his lap, purring like she knows exactly what Theo’s refusing to admit.
Theo groans, dropping his head back against the chair. “Don’t start.”
——————
Theo doesn’t expect him to come back. He spends most of the afternoon telling himself that. Liam has school, has friends, has his own life that doesn’t revolve around checking up on an ex-villain who barely remembers to feed himself. He won’t come back.
Except he does.
By the time the sun dips low, orange spilling through the blinds, there’s a knock at Theo’s door. One firm, familiar rhythm. Theo swears under his breath and opens it before he can talk himself out of it.
Liam stands there, backpack slung over one shoulder, a paper bag dangling from his hand. His grin is easy, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to show up at Theo’s apartment twice in one day.
“You didn’t think I’d let you starve for dinner too, right?”
Theo blinks at the bag. “What’s that?”
“Takeout,” Liam says, brushing past him before he can object. “And don’t even start. You’re eating.”
Theo shuts the door with a groan. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Liam sets the bag on the counter, pulling out cartons of stir-fry and fried rice, like he knows exactly what Theo will eat. “You’re welcome.”
Patches is already weaving between his legs, tail high, meowing like she’s been waiting for him all day. Liam crouches automatically, scratching her ears. “Hey, troublemaker. Miss me?”
Theo crosses his arms, watching the scene unfold. “You act like you live here.”
“Maybe I should.” Liam looks up at him, and for a second there’s something unguarded in his eyes, quick and raw. Then he’s back to unpacking dinner, casual as ever. “Might keep you alive longer.”
Theo doesn’t answer. He sits, grabs chopsticks, and focuses on his food like it might anchor him.
They eat in comfortable silence, the kind Theo doesn’t realize he’s missed until it’s filling the room. Liam chatters now and then about school, about Mason, about how Coach is still the same disaster he’s always been. Theo listens, adding the occasional mutter just to keep Liam from accusing him of zoning out.
After, when the food is gone and Theo is actually full for once, Patches decides to claim the spotlight. She hops onto the table, swishing her tail, batting at the empty cartons like they’re prey.
“Patches,” Theo warns.
“She’s fine,” Liam laughs, reaching out to guide her down—only for her claws to snag on his hand in her excitement.
Liam hisses softly, jerking back. A thin line of red beads across his skin before his healing kicks in, sealing it away as fast as it appeared.
Theo’s chair scrapes back immediately. “You’re bleeding—”
“It’s nothing,” Liam interrupts, but Theo is already there, grabbing his wrist.
The skin is smooth now, healed over, but Theo holds on anyway, thumb brushing where the scratch had been. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the spot like if he looks hard enough he’ll see the blood again.
“You shouldn’t just—” Theo starts, but his voice cuts off, because Liam is watching him. Not the casual grin, not the easy teasing. Something else. Something steady, warm, open.
Theo realizes too late how close they are, how his grip on Liam’s wrist has pulled him in, how Patches has conveniently sprawled across the table like a queen ensuring there’s no room for escape.
“See?” Liam says softly, breaking the silence. “You care.”
Theo freezes. His pulse trips over itself, denial caught on his tongue. He should let go. He should move back. But he doesn’t.
Liam tilts his head up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You know, I used to hate you.”
Theo blinks. “That’s—comforting.”
“I did,” Liam presses, voice low but steady. “Back when you showed up, back when you tried to split the pack, hurt people I—” he swallows. “People I loved. You scared me. I thought you were the worst mistake we ever let in.”
Theo’s chest aches. He drops his gaze, grip loosening. “I was.”
“No.” Liam’s free hand comes up, tentative but sure, fingers brushing Theo’s jaw until he has to look at him. “You were broken. And you were wrong. But you weren’t a mistake.”
Theo’s throat tightens, words stuck.
“You stayed,” Liam continues, softer now. “After the Anuk-ite. When you didn’t have to. You fought for us. For me.”
Theo shakes his head, voice rough, and he wants to pull away. “Don’t put that on me.”
“I’m not putting anything on you,” Liam says, and now his smile is faint, almost shy. “I’m just saying…that’s when it changed. When I realized I didn’t hate you anymore. When I started—” His breath catches, but he doesn’t back down. “—liking you.”
Theo stares. Every defense he’s built rattles, cracks under the weight of it. “Liam…”
Theo’s breath stutters. The word sits between them, heavy, impossible to ignore. Liking.
It shouldn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter.
Except it does.
His grip on Liam’s wrist slackens, and before he realizes it, Theo takes a step back, the distance sharp as a blade. His chest tightens, every instinct screaming at him to retreat. To put space between Liam’s warmth and his own jagged edges.
“You can’t,” Theo rasps, the words scraped raw. “You can’t mean that.”
Liam frowns, steady where Theo isn’t. “Why not?”
Theo laughs, sharp and bitter. “Because you’re you. And I’m—” His throat closes on the words. He drags a hand through his hair, pacing a step to the side. “You don’t get to say that to me, Liam. You don’t get to look at me like that. Not after everything I’ve done.”
Liam stays where he is, steady, calm in a way that makes Theo want to snap. “After everything you’ve done,” he repeats, quiet.
Theo’s laugh is brittle, hollow, scraping the inside of his chest. “After everything I’ve done,” he repeats, pacing away like the words might catch fire if he stays too close. “You really think you can just stand there and say you like me? Like it’s simple? Like it doesn’t matter?”
“It matters,” Liam says, steady as stone.
Theo whirls on him, words burning. “I lied. I manipulated. I killed people, Liam. I killed. You think a couple of good deeds erase that? That suddenly I’m worth—” His voice cracks, throat raw. “—worth someone like you?”
Liam doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t back down. He just looks at Theo, calm and unshaken in the middle of the storm. “You think I don’t remember?”
Theo freezes.
“I remember everything you did,” Liam goes on, quieter now, but no less firm. “I remember the lies. The way you used me. The way you made me feel like a weapon instead of a person. I remember.” His jaw tightens, but his voice never rises. “And I forgave you.”
Theo shakes his head, sharp and desperate. “You can’t just forgive that—”
“I can,” Liam cuts in, calm and final. “Because I saw you change. I saw you fight when you didn’t have to. I saw you stay when everyone else would’ve run.”
Theo’s hands clench, nails biting into his palms. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do.” Liam steps closer, just one careful pace, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. “I know you stayed after the Anuk-ite. When the pack didn’t trust you. When no one asked you to. You could’ve left. You didn’t.”
“That doesn’t erase—”
“Nothing erases it.” Liam’s voice is sharper now, but not angry. Never angry. Just certain. “Nothing makes it like it didn’t happen. But it’s not all you are.”
Theo’s breath stutters. His chest aches like something is clawing its way out.
“You don’t get it,” Theo mutters, retreating another step, shaking his head like he can dislodge the weight pressing down on him. “I don’t get to have this. Not from you. Not from anyone.”
“Why not?”
The question slams into him, too simple, too clean. Theo can’t answer. His throat locks, his body caught between the instinct to lash out and the desperate urge to break down.
“Tell me why not,” Liam presses, still soft, still steady. “Tell me why you don’t deserve someone to care about you.”
Theo’s laugh is harsh, jagged. “Because it’s me.”
And there it is. The barest truth, laid out raw.
Liam just looks at him, eyes wide but unwavering. Then he shakes his head slowly. “That’s not good enough.”
Theo stares, stunned. “You can’t just—”
“I can,” Liam says again, with that infuriating, immovable stubbornness. “You think I don’t know who you are? I do. Better than anyone. I know what you’ve done, and I know who you are now. And I—” He swallows hard, but his gaze never falters. “—I like you anyway.”
Theo wants to shove those words away, to snarl and deny and tear them down before they can sink too deep. But Liam is still there, close enough that Theo can feel the heat rolling off him, close enough that his pulse pounds loud in Theo’s ears.
“You shouldn’t,” Theo rasps. His chest is tight, his voice breaking. “You shouldn’t like me.”
“But I do.” Liam takes another step forward, and Theo’s breath catches. “I do. And you can fight me on it all you want, but it won’t change.”
Theo’s hands tremble. He doesn’t notice until Liam is close enough to see, close enough to gently—so gently—reach out and cover one with his own. The touch is warm, grounding, steady.
Theo stares at their joined hands like it’s proof of something he can’t let himself believe. His voice is a whisper, raw and broken. “I’ll ruin you.”
Liam’s lips twitch, the faintest smile tugging at the corners. “You couldn’t if you tried.”
Theo’s head shakes helplessly, but he doesn’t pull away. He can’t. The air between them is heavy, electric, charged in a way that makes every nerve in his body scream.
And then Liam moves. Slow, deliberate, closing the last inch of space until his forehead rests against Theo’s. His breath is warm against Theo’s lips, his voice barely more than a murmur. “Let me prove it.”
Theo’s heart stutters. He should say no. He should pull back, break this before it’s too late. But Liam is right there, and Theo has spent so long being starved of this — of closeness, of warmth, of someone choosing him.
So when Liam tilts his head and presses his mouth to his, Theo doesn’t stop him.
The kiss is soft, tentative, like Liam is giving him every chance to pull away. But Theo doesn’t. He can’t. His hand fists in the fabric of Liam’s shirt, holding him there like if he lets go, he’ll disappear.
Liam leans in, steady, sure, and Theo feels himself unraveling. Every wall, every defense, every excuse crumbling under the simple, impossible truth of it: Liam Dunbar likes him.
Theo hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Not like this, not without calculation threading through every movement. But Liam’s mouth against his is unguarded, almost hesitant, like he’s not here to take anything — just to offer.
Theo doesn’t know what to do with that. Doesn’t know what to do with the heat curling in his stomach, the sharp ache in his chest, the flood of want that feels too dangerous to touch. But when Liam presses in just a little closer, Theo’s body makes the choice for him.
He kisses him back.
It’s clumsy, at first — too much tension, Theo’s jaw tight, his breath catching like he’s terrified of doing it wrong. But Liam doesn’t flinch. He shifts, gentle and sure, easing Theo into it until the resistance bleeds out of his muscles and the panic fizzles into something softer, something he doesn’t have a name for.
Theo’s hand fists tighter in Liam’s shirt, dragging him closer like he can anchor himself there, like Liam is the only solid thing in a world that keeps threatening to swallow him whole. Liam makes a quiet sound — half surprise, half relief — and Theo feels it shiver straight through him.
The kiss deepens, not with hunger but with certainty. A promise in the press of lips, in the way Liam doesn’t push for more than Theo can give. Just steady, patient, like he has all the time in the world.
When they break apart, Theo’s breathing hard, chest heaving like he’s run miles. He can’t look away from Liam’s face, from the flush on his cheeks, from that warmth in his eyes that refuses to waver no matter how desperately Theo wants it to.
His throat burns. His voice scrapes raw when he forces it out. “I—” He almost chokes on it, fear clawing up, but he pushes through. “I like you too.”
The second the words leave him, Theo wants to snatch them back, shove them down where they can’t be used against him. But Liam’s face lights up like Theo just handed him the sun. His grin is wide, unguarded, stupidly bright, and Theo feels something inside him collapse under the weight of it.
“You have no idea how good it is to hear that,” Liam breathes, and then he’s kissing him again.
This time Theo doesn’t hesitate. He leans into it, letting himself fall. The world narrows to the press of Liam’s lips, the warmth of his body, the steady, unshakable certainty in every movement. Theo feels like he’s burning and drowning all at once, like he’s finally let go of something he’s been clinging to for far too long.
It’s terrifying. It’s perfect.
And then—
“Meow!”
Patches launches herself onto the counter with all the subtlety of a small missile, tail swishing high as she pads right into the space between them, demanding attention like she’s been neglected for hours instead of minutes.
Theo jerks back, startled, and Liam bursts into laughter, his forehead dropping against Theo’s shoulder as he tries to stifle it. “Guess she’s not a fan of sharing,” he manages between chuckles.
Theo glares at the cat, heat crawling up his neck. “You’ve got the worst timing,” he mutters.
Patches meows louder, paw batting insistently at Theo’s arm like she agrees. Liam just laughs harder, the sound warm and easy, vibrating against Theo’s chest.
And somehow, impossibly, Theo finds himself smiling too.
He should be panicking—about what this means, about what happens next, about all the ways this can and probably will fall apart. But for once, with Liam’s laughter in his ear and Patches glaring at them like a tiny, furry chaperone, Theo doesn’t feel the crushing weight of it.
For once, he feels… lighter.
Liam finally pulls back, eyes bright, grin unstoppable. “She’s jealous,” he says, scratching Patches behind the ears like he’s known her forever. “Can’t blame her, though. I’d be jealous too.”
Theo rolls his eyes, but his chest is too warm, his pulse too unsteady for the sarcasm to land. He mutters, “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” Liam says easily, still smiling, still looking at him like Theo hung the stars. “And you like me anyway.”
Theo opens his mouth, a dozen excuses fighting to be heard. But they wither before they reach his tongue. Because Liam’s right.
Because he does.
So instead of arguing, Theo leans in and steals one more kiss.
Just because he can.
And Liam kisses him back like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Patches meows again, unimpressed.
Theo huffs a laugh against Liam’s lips. Maybe this won’t last. Maybe the world will tear it apart tomorrow. But tonight — just for tonight — he lets himself have it.
Someone who cares. Someone who chose him. Someone he likes, too.
For the first time in a long, long time, Theo lets himself believe it might be enough.