Slate | ✓

TWENTY-FOUR | WILL

"Switch beds with me."

I peel a single eye open. Athena stands above me with her hands on her hips and hair braided back into a complicated rope across her shoulder. "I'm not sleeping on John's fucking rock of a mattress anymore," Athena says. "My back is killing me, and you can stare at the ceiling all day just as well from that side of the room." She gestures behind her to John's vacant bed. "Come on. Get up."

I don't register a whole lot of what she said. I shake my head, "Athe—"

"Get up." She repeats. Fury curls her voice. "There's nothing fucking wrong with you. You haven't just come home from the war or something. Get." She grapples onto my ankle and pulls me from the bed. "The fuck." My backside hits the ground hard as the blanket comes away with me. "Up."

"The fuck's your problem?!" I lash out. The anger surprises me. It cuts as sharp as a whip before it's gone again, receding back into whatever depths it emerged from.

"Oh, look. It lives." Athena steps around me to strip the sheets off the bed. "This is so gross. What was the last time you took a shower? Christ, I feel like your fucking maid. Why is this still here?" She nudges an untouched bowl of soup on the bedside table. "Annie left this for you this morning."

I'm not hungry is what I'm about to say when my eyes catch on the face lingering in the doorway. Charlie's girlfriend with Henry grappled around her leg like they're in the middle of playing a game. I'm not wearing a shirt, and she's not quick enough to recover from the way her eyes latch onto the full extent of my damaged shoulder. Something about how her gaze quickly darts away leaves me feeling more exposed than I have the capacity to handle right now.

Athena, intentionally or not, helps me out. "Yes?" She fixes Lizzie with her best cold stare.

"Do—" Lizzie hesitates. "Do you need any help with the laundry?"

"No." Athena step off the bed with the sheets in hand and walks over. "Will can do his own laundry, thanks." She closes the door, and the lock clicks in place. When she peers back over to me, she looks as if she's about to yell some more, but then her eyes soften. "You don't have to do that."

I hadn't realized my hand jumped to hide my shoulder from sight. "Oh." I drop my hand to my lap. "Can— can you hand me a shirt then?"

Athena picks up various some shirts, but recoils upon smelling them. "You really haven't done any laundry."

"One of John's then?"

"John took all his clothing with him already. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah, right. So fast."

Athena bites her lip. "Here," she tosses me a hoodie that was hanging off the closet door handle. It lands in a heap by my feet. "Let's go. We're washing your clothes."

It's like she's asking me to climb a mountain. "I can't. Later, maybe." It's humiliating.

"Can't or won't?"

The question makes me feel like absolute garbage— one of Athena's talents. "Can you just fuck off already?" I ask. "Why are you even here?"

I expect her to back off and grow defensive. Instead, Athena drops down beside me. Our backs press against the base of my bed.

I stare at the hoodie by my feet. I stare and stare and stare. 

"Will?"

"Lizzie doesn't know, does she?" I ask. "Charlie never said anything to her?"