Staying Grounded [BXB]

Phase Three

SEBASTIAN:

It won't ever feel right to enter the kitchen and not be accosted by a comet of frenzied excitement. But after the two days I've had to endure a hollow ache of life without him, the rhythmic grumble of Dobby's snores grants an instant sweep of blessed relief. My intrusion disturbs barely a hitch to the sound, and one look at his dopey face reassures me enough to think better of lingering.

I don't move beyond the doorway. Allowing myself only a minute, I bob an appreciative nod at Capt. C for keeping a vigilant guard over my best boy. The poster is no less ludicrous, and steely masked eyes glower as I unhook my coat with the greatest care. I'm scarcely breathing. Then, softly retreating back outside, I ease the door closed after me and turn in the opposite direction from which I came.

"Hey!"

Four steps have been taken, and a shout almost lost in the wind stills my feet.

"Hold up!"

I whip around, a grin already tugging at my lips even as my stomach swoops.

"Hi." Craig is jogging past the bonfire toward me. Because, of course, why wouldn't he be? His timing cannot be faulted.

And, I mean, sure; I'd thought he would catch my escape, no matter that I resisted checking. The play of covert glances hadn't been one-sided. I might have even hoped he would call out as I left the field behind. In all honesty, though, given the amount of attention on him, it's genuinely astonishing he's somehow managed to slip away after me.

There's a grin on his face to match my own. Even so, I'm perhaps still just the slightest bit braced for the other shoe to drop. "Figured I'd find you here," he sounds a little breathless. "Is our patient well?"

"Fast asleep," I nod, waiting until his pace slows to a walk. "Aren't you worried you'll miss your turn to bat?"

"Nah. Seemed little point in playing when I noticed you weren't there to cheer me on."

"Ha."

The unfairness of how good my hoody looks when he's in it continues to irk me, even as he's shivering against the gusting chill, his hands buried deep in its sleeves. He finally pulls up beside me, leaving about six feet of space between us, and his gaze flicks away. Only then do I realise the unnerving intensity of my stare.

"You about to head straight back?" He asks.

The shake of my head doesn't reclaim his attention, and an awkward beat passes before I opt to deflect instead. "Unless you're willing to spare me a few precious minutes of your time first?"

"Please, no more surprises, Bas."

"I can promise you it's nothing much."

His groan is not encouraging. Not that I can blame him for it. But I restart my feet anyway, taking measured strides away. A feel about inside my coat pocket locates the little box I stashed there earlier. My fingers track its edges as I bypass Kye's garden, and the rickety shed welcomes me. "I know exactly what I'm leading you into this time, Craig," I call back without turning.

"That's supposed to be reassuring?"

"Fair enough. Enjoy the rest of your party, then, I guess."

Disappointment flickers and gutters between one heartbeat and the next when, with a huffed expletive, Craig materialises at my side. He says nothing more, keeping his eyes on his feet. That's fine, though, because I suddenly feel like my tongue is too thick for my mouth.

A corner of the box bites into my palm, my grip tightening around it. Nothing more than a token that I spent an obscene amount of time yesterday working on; my intention to share it with him today got shelved an hour ago. Before he sought me out, I'd been about to get into my truck and visit the oak tree. Yet, here we are together now, and I'm unshelving the original plan while thoroughly questioning the wisdom of doing so. Phase three, I guess. Or, possibly, more of a subsidiary of phase two. It has the potential to push him over a very fine line.