Match Made in Quarantine

23. Day Seven

I stayed with him that night.

For hours my hands stroked his hair while I whispered how "It's going to be okay." even though I had no idea if anything was ever going to be okay again. Eventually, his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

Looking at his worn out face, frowning even in his sleep, it became clear I didn't really know anything about him. I didn't know the worries that plagued those ashen eyes of his or the life he led before. Instead, I'd made my own assumptions, put him into a box, and have been adamantly insisting he should stay inside of it.

People are rarely one-dimensional; I should've known better. Looking at him like this, so fragile and unguarded, made my heart swell. It made me want to know him.

I knew that was a dangerous desire; the humming in the back of my head served as a constant reminder that I would probably end up hurt. As if it was an undeniable fact that if I got to know this man, this boy curled up on my lap, I would end up the one being broken. Even so, in that moment, I couldn't find the strength to protest or fight against this urge; not when he lay there so defenseless.

I just wanted to be there for him. I just wanted to know him.

Was that so wrong?

I let out a sigh, tired of my own warring mind and this never ending day. Gently, making sure I wouldn't wake him, I placed a hand under Maddox's head and guided it to the pillow. Just as I was about to leave, his hand reached out grabbing my wrist.

My eyes went wide, fully expecting I'd see him wide awake, but I scoured his face for any sign of consciousness and found none. His breathing was still even, his eyes closed and yet his hand held me in place.

Letting out a sigh, a sad smile crossed my face. Even unconscious, he didn't want to be alone.

And so, I stayed.

Once morning came, I was the first to wake up. Maddox snored lightly next to me and I chuckled at the sound, feeling relieved that he was able to get some quality sleep. The fact that his bed was both huge and comfy was definitely a bonus. 

On the other hand, this was already the second time I was tiptoeing out of his room in the morning and I didn't know how to feel about that. It's not that I really regretted staying with him yesterday, but I also wasn't sure of what I was feeling.

Was it sympathy? Compassion? Pity? Or was it something else?

Quietly, I closed the door to his room and hurried to the kitchen, eager to find ways to distract myself.

I counted forty two pancakes by the time I was finished. The plate they'd all been piled on was starting to look a lot like the leaning tower of Pisa. After glaring at the enormous mound of food for a few moments I picked up my phone, typed in can you freeze pancakes into Google, and scrolled through the results....