T H E O G R A Y

THE MOMENT I try to move, a sharp pain shoots through my back, making me groan. Every muscle in my body protests, stiff and aching from overworking myself.

"Are you really hurt?"

Her voice is softer now, less snarky, more... concerned. I feel a cold hand press against my forehead, her fingers surprisingly gentle. My eyes flutter shut at the cool relief.

"You're really hot, Theo."

"Yeah," I mutter, lips curving lazily. "I know."

She makes a disgusted sound, then flicks her fingers against my forehead-hard.

"Ow," I laugh, cracking one eye open to look at her. "I deserved that."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't move her hand away just yet. I turn my head slightly, finally facing her, and that's when I realize just how close we are.

Not too close. But close enough.

Close enough for me to pretend I'm too exhausted to care about boundaries. Before she can pull away, I let my head drop onto her shoulder, shifting just enough to get comfortable against her cool touch. She tenses immediately.

"What are you-"

"Just for a second," I murmur. "Too tired."

She doesn't shove me off. Doesn't immediately complain.

And that's all the permission I need.

The warmth of her seeps through her hoodie, and for the first time tonight, I feel a little less like my body is falling apart.

But the moment doesn't last. The Uber jerks to a stop, and any fragile truce we had shatters.

She clears her throat, straightening in her seat, and I lift my head just as she fumbles for her phone.

The driver announces the price, and she curses under her breath, clearly pissed at how expensive it was. Still, she transfers the money without complaint.

Then, she pushes open her door and glances at me. "Wait here, let me come around."

I nod-probably looking like a kid waiting for his mom to help him out of the car. But I'm too exhausted to care.

A few seconds later, she opens my door and gives me a look that tells me I better not argue. "Come on," she says, her voice softer now.

I sigh but shift closer, letting her hook her arm under mine for support. My body still aches, but at least the food and protein shake gave me some energy to move.

I get out, my weight leaning into her just slightly, and to my surprise, she doesn't complain.

I try to take another step on my own, but the second I shift my weight, my legs nearly give out. A sharp hiss escapes me, and before I can completely embarrass myself by collapsing in the middle of the damn parking lot, her grip on me tightens.

"Jesus, Theo," she mutters, adjusting her hold. "You really overdid it, didn't you?"

I don't answer, partly because I don't have the energy, but mostly because I don't want to admit that she's right.

With slow, careful steps, we make it toward the building. I should feel pathetic needing this much help, but I'm too drained to feel much of anything-except the cold night air against my overheated skin and the warmth of her pressed against my side.

She's smaller than me, but she doesn't struggle under my weight. If anything, she handles me with an ease that makes my chest tighten.

I glance down at her. She's staring ahead, brows furrowed, her jaw set like she's mad. But beneath that, I catch something else.

Worry.

It's fucking worry.

I want to make a joke, say something stupid to lighten the mood, but the words die in my throat when she shifts, adjusting her hold to guide me toward the apartment building. I let myself lean into her just a little, not enough to make it obvious, but enough to feel her warmth against my side.

We walk slowly, my steps heavy, my muscles screaming in protest with every movement. She's patient, though, not rushing me or complaining, just walking at my pace, matching my stride.

I should thank her. I should say something.

Instead, I find myself mumbling, "You really didn't have to come."

She exhales sharply, like I just said the dumbest thing in the world. "Yeah, well, you also didn't have to nearly pass out in your car, but here we are."

I smirk weakly. "Touché."

The warmth of the building hits me immediately, and a wave of exhaustion follows. My body really wants to give out now.

"Almost there," she mutters, steering me toward the elevator.

"Didn't know you were this strong," I rasp, trying to ignore the way my head is swimming.

She snorts. "You're not that heavy."

I smirk-at least, I think I do. Everything feels sluggish. "Are you calling me weak?"

"No, I'm calling you stupid," she shoots back, pressing the elevator button. "Who the hell trains until they can barely walk?"

Me. I do. Because if I stop, even for a second, the thoughts creep in. The doubts, the what-ifs, the voices that tell me I'm wasting my time.

But I don't say that.

Instead, I rest my head against the cool elevator wall as the doors close.

She stays quiet too. But I feel her watching me.

And for some reason, that makes it easier to breathe.

The elevator ride is quiet except for the hum of the machinery and my unsteady breathing. My body is wrecked, my muscles screaming, my head pounding like someone's taken a hammer to it. I close my eyes for a second, just to rest them, but I feel a sharp nudge against my side.

"Don't pass out," she warns.

I crack an eye open, lips twitching. "Didn't know you cared so much, Soph."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't. I just don't want to be the one dragging your unconscious ass to your room."

A low chuckle escapes me, but it's cut short by the sharp ache in my ribs. God, I really overdid it today.

The elevator dings, and she hooks her arm around me again, guiding me out. My legs feel like lead, my stomach still hollow, but I focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

We make it down the hall, stopping in front of my door. She shifts, letting go of me for a second. I immediately feel the loss of her warmth.

She unlocks the door and pushes it open before looking back at me. "Come on, you need to lie down before you collapse."

I don't argue. For once, I just listen.

She steps inside first, flipping on the light before turning back to me. I follow, dragging my feet across the threshold, and the second the door clicks shut behind me, the exhaustion crashes down like a wave.

Fuck.

I press a hand against the wall to steady myself, sucking in a slow breath. Every inch of my body aches, my muscles tight and burning from overuse. My head pounds, my vision swimming slightly, and I swear if I close my eyes for too long, I might just pass out standing here.

"Okay, you need to sit," she says firmly, stepping closer. She places a hand on my arm, trying to guide me toward the couch.

I resist for half a second-because I'm fucking stubborn-but the second I shift my weight, my knees nearly buckle.

I sink down with a groan, letting my head fall back against the cushions. The moment I close my eyes, I feel her presence near me again.

"You should shower before you pass out," she says, crossing her arms.

I crack an eye open. "Are you offering to help?"

She exhales sharply, clearly frustrated, but instead of arguing, she disappears into the kitchen. I hear the sound of cabinets opening, water running, and then, a few seconds later, she's back, holding a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen.

She hands them to me. "Take these."

I raise an eyebrow. "Bossy."

She glares. "Shut up and take them, Theo."

I chuckle softly but do as she says, swallowing the pills with a gulp of water. When I finish, she takes the glass from me and sets it on the coffee table.

For a moment, neither of us speak. She stands there, arms still crossed, and I watch her through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Okay then." She sighs, glancing at her door then back at me. "Get some rest... and don't dare do this stupid act again because I'm not coming for you next time."

She turns to leave, and that panic-the kind that starts in your gut and spreads like wildfire-hits me hard.

I don't want the silence again. I don't want to be alone right now. Not with the way my head is spinning, not with the exhaustion weighing me down like cement, and definitely not with the thoughts that I know will come rushing back the moment she's gone.

"Soph."

My voice is rough, almost hesitant. She stops, glancing over her shoulder. "What?"

"I need a favour." She doesn't say anything and keeps staring at me.

I don't even think before I blurt out, "Could you take off my shirt?"

Her eyes pop wide open. "What?"

I expected that.

She spins fully to face me now, her expression immediately twisting in disbelief. "What?"

"I can barely lift my arms." I shift slightly, groaning at the ache that shoots through my body. "Everything fucking hurts."

Her face looks slightly red."But you can-"

I push forward before she can tell me off. "And... I'd like if you slept on my bed today."

That gets her. Her whole body stiffens, eyes narrowing as if I just said the most insane thing she's ever heard.

"I'm sorry, what?" she repeats, her tone sharper this time. "Are you going nuts or did you drink something before I picked you up."

"I'm not and I didn't drink," I say, voice low, tired. "I just..." I exhale heavily, my head falling back against the couch. "I don't want to be alone right now."

I can't be alone right now.

I feel it already-the dark thoughts clawing at the edges of my mind, waiting for the moment she walks out that door to pull me under again.

She stares at me, her usual sharp, witty retort not coming as fast this time.

So I go for the kill.

"I'll pay you back. Double of whatever you spent on me today."

Her brows pull together, like she's about to argue, so I push further.

"Triple if you want." My voice is softer now, almost pleading. "Just... stay."

Her reaction isn't immediate this time. She looks at me-really looks at me. I don't know what she sees, but something in her expression changes. The sharpness in her gaze dulls, replaced with something else.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "God, you're such a pain in the ass." She then glares at me. "I want triple."

A smirk tugs at my lips. "Is that a yes?"

She glares. "No, it's a 'shut up before I change my mind.'"

I'll take it.

"Which room?" she asks, clearly trying to move past whatever the hell this moment is.

"Mine," I say. "I need a shower."

She nods slowly, but I notice the way she shifts on her feet, like she's still debating something in her head.

"I'll put a pillow between us if it's too much for you," I offer, even though I immediately regret it. I don't want distance. I need her close. I want her so damn close that it would be enough to drown out everything in my head.

"No need." She exhales, shaking her head like she's annoyed at herself for even staying this long.

She moves toward me, grabbing my arm to help me up. "Come on, before I change my mind."

I let her, but I make an effort to walk on my own once I'm standing. She's done more than enough.

I'll repay her.

I swear on it.

She doesn't say anything as we move toward my room, but I catch her glancing at me, probably making sure I don't collapse.

When we step inside, she hesitates. Her fingers twitch at her sides, eyes flickering to the walls, the floor, anywhere but me.

The tough Sophia from a few minutes ago? Gone.

"If you say anything that stings my ears, I'm out," she warns.

"Understood."

She gives me one last look before stepping closer. She's not that tall-her head barely reaches my chest-and despite the pain, I already think of ways to tease her about it.

She hesitates before reaching for the hem of my shirt. Her fingers brush against my skin, and I hate how aware I am of the touch.

"This is so fucking weird," she mutters under her breath as she pulls the fabric up. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

She yanks it over my head and tosses it aside, avoiding my gaze like it might kill her. I don't blame her.

A sharp ache shoots through my shoulder once she's done but I bite it back.

"Sorry," she murmurs, barely meeting my gaze. She steps back, crossing her arms. "Go take a shower. I'll be back-I need to change too."

I nod. "Promise?"

She blinks. "Promise what?"

"That you're coming back."

She stares at me, her expression unreadable. I see the hesitation in her eyes, the way her lips press together like she's debating whether she should just leave me hanging. I wouldn't blame her if she did.

But then she sighs. "Yeah, Theo. I promise."

Something inside me settles, even if I don't completely believe her.

She turns and leaves before I can say anything else, and I force my body toward the bathroom. Every step feels like dragging dead weight, my muscles aching from exhaustion and the reckless way I pushed myself tonight. The shower is a slow torture-hot water pounding against sore muscles, my body flinching with every shift. But I let it wash over me, trying to clear my mind as much as my skin.

By the time I step out, towel around my waist, my head still feels heavy, my body sore. The steam curling around me as I rub the towel over my damp hair.

The first thing I do is look at my door... Nothing.

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face.

I tell myself I'm not waiting for her. That it doesn't matter whether she actually comes back or not. But as I grab a pair of boxers and sweatpants from my drawer and pull them on, I still catch myself glancing at the door, listening for any movement outside.

Still nothing.

With a sigh, I climb into bed, my body sinking into the mattress. My muscles still ache, exhaustion pressing down on me, but my mind refuses to shut off.

Maybe she's feeling weird about all this.

Maybe it's because she doesn't need me for anything this time-no sneaky photoshoots, no tricks up her sleeve. Maybe without an excuse, being here feels too real for her.

I let out a breath, staring at the ceiling.

It was stupid to ask her to stay. She doesn't owe me anything.

I should just sleep. Accept the silence. Let my thoughts do whatever they want. It's not like I haven't dealt with them alone before.

I shut my eyes. Try to ignore the disappointment curling in my chest. I inhale deeply, trying to will myself to sleep.

Then-

A soft click breaks the silence.

My door opens.

I don't move, barely breathing as she steps inside.

She came back.

She closes the door softly behind her, like she's trying not to wake me-like she expects me to be asleep already. I keep my eyes half-lidded, watching her through the dim glow of my bedside lamp as she hesitates near the door.

She's changed into different clothes-an oversized hoodie and a pair of shorts. Her hair is damp, like she took a shower too.

So she really had gone to change.

She shifts on her feet, arms crossed like she's debating something with herself. For a second, I think she might turn around and leave again, but then she exhales sharply and walks toward the bed.

I blink up at her, waiting.

"You're still awake?" she asks, voice sounding quite disappointed with the fact that I'm not asleep.

"You took forever," I say, my voice coming out hoarse.

She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. Instead, she glances at the bed, hesitation flickering across her face. "Where do I-?"

I lift the blanket on the empty side, my heart hammering for some reason. "Here."

She stares at it, then at me, then back at the space beside me. I can see the internal battle happening in her head, the way she's weighing her pride against the situation.

Finally, she sighs and mutters, "Move over."

I smirk a little but obey, shifting just enough to give her space. She hesitates only a second longer before slipping under the blanket, keeping a careful distance between us.

The bed dips with her weight.

It's quiet for a moment, just the sound of our breathing.

Then-

"I still don't know why I agreed to this," she mutters, her voice muffled as she turns on her side, away from me.

I stare at the back of her head, feeling a strange warmth spread through my chest.

"Because you're a good roommate," I say, half-teasing.

She scoffs. "Don't push it."

I chuckle under my breath, finally letting my eyes close. The exhaustion hits me all at once, heavier now that I know she's here.

The silence doesn't feel suffocating anymore.

I don't feel alone.

And for the third time in a row, sleep comes easily.

◇◇◇

I wake up to the soft glow of morning light slipping through my curtains, casting a faint warmth over my room. My body feels heavy, but not in the way it did last night. It's the kind of heaviness that comes from deep, uninterrupted sleep-the kind I haven't had in ages.

I blink, my vision adjusting to the dim lighting, and turn onto my side-Only to stop dead.

She's still here.

Sophie.

Lying on my bed, just a few inches away, her back to me.

For a second, I just stare, barely breathing.

She didn't leave.

Even though I expected her to bolt the moment morning came, she's still here, curled up under the blanket. The sight sends something warm curling in my chest, something I don't quite understand but don't hate either.

It would be nicer to see her face, though, my subconscious supplies.

And for once, I agree with it.

As if reading my mind, she shifts slightly, rolling onto her back, her face now visible to me.

I don't look away.

Her hair is a little messy, strands falling across her cheek. Her lips are slightly parted, her breathing slow and steady. Then-

A quiet, sleepy moan escapes her lips as she turns towards me, burying her face into the pillow for a second before settling again.

I don't move.

I don't dare move, don't even breathe as I watch her, waiting-half expecting her to wake up and freak out over the closeness.

She doesn't.

Instead, she exhales softly, her body relaxing again, completely unaware of the way my heart is practically hammering in my chest.

This is dangerous.

I should roll over. Look away. Create some distance.

But instead, I stay still, caught between the urge to let this moment linger and the fear that any second now, she'll open her eyes and catch me staring.

Her hair is covering most of her face, the blonde strands spilling over her cheek, hiding the expression I suddenly need to see.

I don't think. I just move.

Slowly, carefully, I reach out, fingers barely grazing her skin as I brush the strands away. Her cheek is warm under my touch, impossibly soft, and for a second, I pause, my fingers lingering longer than they should before I tuck the hair behind her ear.

She mumbles something under her breath and I don't move a muscle, scared she might open her eyes and punch my head with her fist.

But she doesn't wake up. Instead, she shifts slightly, pressing further into the pillow, her breathing still steady.

I exhale quietly, my pulse loud in my ears.

That should be it. I should stop. Should roll over, should put distance between us before I start thinking too much about this.

But instead I move closer.

Just a little. Just enough that I can see her fully now, see the small crease in her brow, the way her lips part slightly as she breathes.

I don't know why I do it.

I don't know what the hell she's doing to me.

All I know is that right now, this-her-is keeping my mind quiet.

And I don't want that to stop.

I look down at her lips, my chest tightening with something I don't understand. I've never noticed how pink they are, how soft they look. My throat bobs as I swallow hard, an unfamiliar warmth creeping up my neck. They look too soft.

My fingers twitch against the sheets, and before I even realize what I'm doing, my hand moves on its own. It's stupid, reckless, but I do it anyway. Slowly, cautiously, I raise my hand and brush the pad of my thumb over her lower lip.

Fuck.

They are soft.

Softer than I imagined.

A slow exhale leaves my lips, my mind turning blank for a moment as I just sit there, barely breathing, barely thinking, completely caught in this strange, hypnotic pull she has over me. It's dangerous how easy it is to get lost in this-how easy it is to forget who we are, what we are, and that this moment isn't supposed to be happening.

I don't even realize I'm leaning in, drawn closer by something I can't name, until-

"Yo, Theo!"

The front door slams shut, and I swear my soul nearly leaves my body.

My muscles jolt as pure shock shoots through my veins. I move on instinct, rolling away so fast I completely lose balance and-

"Shit!"

I hit the ground hard, pain shooting up my side, but I barely register it.

"Theo?" Logan calls again, his footsteps growing louder, moving down the hall.

My eyes snap back to Sophie, panic slamming into me like a truck. She's still sleeping, completely oblivious to the fact that she's about to be caught in my bed.

Oh fuck.

My pulse races as I scramble up, my body screaming in protest, but the pain is nothing compared to the sheer terror of what will happen if Logan walks in right now.

Soph will kill me.

No-she will murder me.

And then she will probably bring me back to life just so she can kill me again.

My heart pounds as I spin toward the door, my mind running a mile a minute. I have seconds to figure this out.

Do I wake her up? Do I shove her under the blankets? Do I throw myself at the door and block Logan from coming in?

"Theo?" Logan calls again, closer this time, and my stomach drops as the doorknob twists.

Time slows.

I don't think-I move.

In a rush, I grab the blanket and throw it over Sophie, tucking it up to her chin, hoping to whatever higher power exists that she stays asleep. My heart pounds against my ribs as I turn just as the door swings open.

Logan steps in, brows furrowed, scanning the room before landing on me.

"What the hell, dude?" His eyes flick to my state-barefoot, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on my hips. His expression shifts, somewhere between amused and suspicious. "Why do you look like you just got caught doing something illegal?"

I force a breath out, dragging a hand through my hair like I can make myself look less guilty. "Because you scared the shit out of me barging in here like that."

Logan squints at me. "I called you twice."

"And maybe I was sleeping?" I snap back, motioning vaguely to the bed. I try not to let my gaze drift toward the lump beneath the blankets, the small rise and fall of her breathing.

Logan doesn't look convinced. "Since when do you go to bed early?"

"Since I got my ass handed to me yesterday," I say, which isn't a lie. "I feel like shit."

His expression softens slightly, but he's still watching me too closely. "You good?"

I nod too fast. "Yeah, just tired."

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, well, I came to check on you. You weren't answering texts."

I pat my pocket. "Phone's dead." Another lie. My phone is perfectly charged on my nightstand, but I don't need him hovering longer than necessary.

Logan glances around the room one more time, and I hold my breath. Just leave, man. Please.

He steps back toward the door, finally, but pauses, looking at me over his shoulder. "Oh, and by the way..." His lips twitch like he's trying not to laugh.

I tense. "What?"

"You might wanna fix your bed." He jerks his chin toward the messy blankets, where a distinct shape still lingers beneath. "Looks like someone's still in it."

I swear my heart stops.

Logan smirks, shaking his head as he walks out. "You sly bastard."