don't get me wrong () prodigal son SLOW UPDATES

Forty

Chapter Forty:

Theodora sat on the floor of her living room, surrounded by old photographs from her childhood. She couldn't remember what day it was, just that it was dark and cold. Nobody had called in over four days about cases, so she stayed home ignoring everyone.

She blinked gazing at the closet door that was swung open, the only thing left in it was her father's gun tossed on the floor. Everything else was emptied out around her, boxes and boxes of stuff. There was a pile of clothes at her feet, photographs scattered over her lap. Police badges and medals to her right and old jewelry from her mother on her left.

The apartment was a mess, and to top it off scattered shot glasses added to the pile. Theodora never drank, once and while she'd fall into what she called 'the abyss' where she'd overthink and not be able to get out of it. Sometimes it ended with lots of crying, looking through her parents stuff or getting drunk. This time, it was all of the above.

There was a knock at the door, but Theodora made not one move to answer it. A few seconds later the door swung open and Malcolm appeared, his face fell at the sight of her.

"Theo?"

Her eyes widened, "Hey! I haven't seen you in forever!"

He locked the door and rushed over to her, "I saw you yesterday."

"Oh." She frowned, "Well, I'm so happy to see your wittle face."

Malcolm's brows raised as he sat down next to her, scanning everything around her. He picked up a small picture of her with her parents, then another one with both her father and herself at graduation. He gazed over at her, "You've been crying."

"Yes I have."

He took another look around, "Drinking? Theo, what the hell happened?"

She shrugged, "Dunno. Can't remember."

He watched her, but she was also watching him. Theodora propped herself up onto her knees and leaned toward him squinting. "You sleep? Noo... you don't sleep. Malcolm!"

"Slow down." He chuckled, "I'm ok. I'm not tired."

"I worry."

He frowned, "I'm worrying about you right about now. You're burying to many things."

Theodora grabbed his blazer, "You always look so fancy."

Light music played off her TV speakers, her phone somewhere in the kitchen. She hummed along poking him. "Can I ask you a question?"

He held her up, eyes filled with concern. "Ok?"

She laughed, "What are we?"

"Huh?"

"Are we friends?"

Malcolm shifted awkwardly, pursing his lips. "Of course."

"Are we anything else?"

"I think you need to get some sleep."

She snorted, her head bobbing back and fourth. "We kiss and then we do nothing. We kiss again and then we do nothing—"

"Theo." He said.

"W-what are we?" She hiccuped, staring at him. Her mind was racing, she couldn't really make sense of anything. This was exactly why Theodora didn't drink, because she couldn't control what she would say or do. She stared at him, "You look nice. All the time. Now, too."

"Theo." He said again, lips forming a straight line.

She grabbed his face with both hands, "I think I like you."