It Takes Two | ✓

Chapter 5

Pain woke Gabe up early the next morning and he ventured into the kitchen, still half asleep, in search of painkillers. Alice was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, eating a bowl of cereal and looking at something on her phone.

She looked up and then smiled when she saw it was him. "Good morning, hun."

"Good morning," Gabe mumbled in return.

He'd been going to bed so early and waking up so late that this was the first time he'd actually seen her since the night he'd arrived.

"How have you been?" she asked as Gabe headed into the kitchen to get his painkillers.

"Fine," Gabe said, because he obviously wasn't good and anything more negative would only lead to questions.

"How have things been going with Trist?"

Gabe made a face as he washed down his painkillers with a mouthful of water. "He obviously doesn't like me, but he's..." Gabe trailed off. He didn't really know what Trist was. "It's like he really doesn't want me around, but he's doing his best not to take that out on me."

She gave Gabe a sympathetic smile. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Gabe said quickly. "It's fine. He doesn't have to like me."

"Okay, I'll leave it alone for now. Just let me know if you need me to get involved. You should be able to feel safe and welcome here."

For a moment Gabe just looked at her because yeah, that sounded completely reasonable, but nobody had ever said anything like that to him before. Even when something wasn't his fault, it was always his problem to deal with. That was just how life was.

But what if it wasn't life? What if it was just adults who didn't want to help?

"Thanks," Gabe said, and it didn't really come through in his voice but he really meant it.

He didn't think he'd ever ask for her help. He didn't really need it. Trist wasn't hurting him and nobody could force him to like Gabe. But the fact that she'd offered, the fact that she sincerely believed he deserved to be treated better... that meant something.

#

Gabe looked down at the pile of his belongings that he'd pulled out of his bag and scattered on the floor around him and let out a sigh. He just wanted to take a shower and go to bed, but he didn't have a single clean shirt. He'd thought he had plenty, but he'd been going through them so fast that he'd run through his supply without realising.

He was supposed to be keeping his stitches bandaged and using ointment on them, but he'd never actually gone to get any of that stuff and it wasn't like he'd be able to do it himself when his injuries were on his back anyway. So he'd been showering twice a day and changing his shirt whenever things started to get gross, which was quite often.

Gabe picked up one of the dirty shirts he hoped wasn't too bad, sniffed it, and made a face. He was definitely going to get some kind of horrible infection.

Trist, who up until now had been laying on his bed sketching and determinedly ignoring Gabe, finally rolled over to look at him. "What are you doing?"

Gabe was so taken off guard by the fact that Trist was actually acknowledging him that it took him a moment to figure out what to say. "Uh... trying to find a clean shirt. But I have none."

"You know shirts don't become unwearably dirty after five hours, right? Especially if you're just sitting around watching movies."

A fretful, "Mm," was all the response Gabe could think to give to that, because that was true generally and he didn't want to explain why he really did need to change his shirts regularly.