Someone comes into the house and I let out a huge breath. It was Darry. Thank goodness, I was starting to get worried. It was late, and the other boys had already went to bed. I couldn't sleep, not without him there. I haven't been able to unless I know where he is.
I walk into the living room to see him, and he was face up on the couch. He looked exhausted. "Hey Dar, where were you?" I made sure to be quiet, for him and for the younger boys.
"Work." He says, quietly also. I'm pretty sure it's because he was so tired though.
"Darry it's almost midnight."
"I know," he says, "I decided to help later, so I don't have to work tomorrow." He hated working on Saturdays. Who doesn't?
"Why didn't you call me?" I ask, the pent up anger and worry coming out. I still didn't raise my voice though. "I was worried sick."
"I'm sorry." He breaths, his eyes still closed. "Are you mad?"
"Yeah a little." I admit.
"I'm sorry honey." He asks, opening his eyes and smiling at me. I had to give in, his grin was adorable. He motioned for me to join him of the couch, so I did. I picked up his shoulders, I figured he was too tired to move, and rested his head on my lap. I started to play with his hair. "I didn't mean to worry you."
"It's okay now." I tell him and smile. He could barely keep his eyes open. "I'm just glad you're not dead." We sat in silence for a few minutes, him with his eyes closed and me playing with his blonde locks. I knew he wasn't asleep though, he didn't have that slight snore yet.
"Darry, you look so tired." I say, giggling.
"I bet I don't look half as tired as I feel." He jokes. He chuckles.
"C'mon, let's put you in some clean clothes and go to bed." He groans, but follows me to our bedroom.
