Inglorious Roomates

Chapter 12

The more things you care about, the weaker you are. Never forget, Teddy. The more ways there are to hurt you, the more ways you can lose.

It was Peter's voice taunting Theo's mind the entire sleepless night, as he sat in what was probably the most expensive armchair to ever grace his ass, reflecting on how he ended up there.

Sitting in the graveyard of Liam's bedside again, checking every other second that he was breathing, having to convince himself that Liam wasn't a corpse or in a coma, feeling powerless to do anything else.

All night, Theo stayed by Liam's side, trying to map together the pieces to what led him there, next to his roommate that he tried to push away, and somehow brought closer than he's ever dared to let anyone. Trying to remember when he decided to open up, or if Liam chiseled away bit by bit so Theo didn't notice until he'd already broken through—leave it to Liam to fucking Shawshank his way inside Theo.

Either way, Theo was now facing a giant Liam sized hole in the armor he thought he built to last, and it scared the shit out of him.

He wore his armor so close to his chest that it became his second skin, and being at war became his nature. Fighting the same fight for so long that he forgot why he was fighting. Now that he was ready to lay down his arms, he started to question why he picked them up in the first place.

Peter taught him how to make it in West Beacon, how to get on top in such a low way of life, how to be the son that his father could be proud of. As long as he was plated in spiked steel, he was the perfect toy soldier that Peter could pick up and use whenever he wanted.

Never allowed to have friends, only a small family of people that Peter deemed to have a purpose to Theo, who would do anything for him, who made him stronger. Avoiding what Peter considered 'unnecessary' relationships, turning away anyone who tried, declining every offer to be anything more until they stopped asking.

Theo's mind was so twisted into what Peter wanted, into what his father wanted, even what Tara wanted, so lost in the clutches of everyone else, that it was hard for Theo to even find his own fucking self in it.

One thing was clear, Liam was different than anyone else that 'tried' before.

Even the thickest armor didn't deter him. Liam kept coming back, found a different approach, tried to understand the guarded maze around Theo. He never stopped asking, he never stopped trying to get close to Theo, even when the razor-sharp edges left him bleeding, for unsung reasons, Liam kept on until he broke through steel to get there.

Theo didn't know how to mend it, or if he even wanted to. He didn't know if he was more afraid of what could get in, or what could get out, an avalanche of secrets desperate to break through. He didn't know if the ache in his chest was from the pressure to breach, or just from seeing Liam like this, but he was willing to suffer through it all.

That's what caring meant to Theo, or rather the twisted idea he was taught, more poison injected into his core. It was just another form of pain, of weakness, of relinquishing control, of losing. It went against every instinct that Theo had, but when it came to Liam, he couldn't seem to put up a defense strong enough to keep the feeling out.

Despite everything in him screaming to fight for his fucking life, Theo stayed right there watching over Liam, unable to sleep through the noise in his head.

Only the morning seemed to bring a bit of quiet, when Theo had to wake Liam to take his meds. It was just as uneasy as he remembered, when Liam was only a shell of a person that Theo referred to as Dopey. He tried for minutes to nudge Liam awake, bitterly cursing past-Theo for being such an insensitive prick, recalling how he raised his voice, kicked Liam's bed and slammed things around to wake him up last time.