Chapter Thirty-three
Matt
I do a lot of thinking while I watch Ace sleep.
I’ve spent so much of my time here in a fog. I’ve been floating around like a ghost, appearing in rooms I don’t remember going to, and coming back to myself in the middle of conversations without knowing what the subject of it is. For the most part, I’ve been barely existing.
The few times a little spark came to life inside of me were usually times I was with Ace.
Even in the beginning, that light was flickering inside of me as he brought me a tote bag and nervously rambled about it.
He’s become a safe place for me. A place where I can be soft, where I can hide, where I can breathe.
He gave that thing inside of me room to figure itself out.
That’s the warmth I’ve been feeling, I think.
It’s that spark inside of me. The thing that makes me feel alive.
Ace stokes it and tends to it and protects it.
During all of that, though, he was struggling too.
I don’t do myself the disservice of pretending like I don’t know how I missed that. Of course I missed it. Most days, it was taking everything in me just to exist. It still is some days. I was better around him, though. I was better enough to notice that sometimes there was something off about him.
I’m upset at myself for not thinking about things more.
I wouldn’t have been able to in the early days, but lately I could have.
Lately, I should have. There were times when I noticed how his energy had shifted into something a little frantic and frenzied, like he was fraying around the edges, but I hadn’t dwelled on it.
I’m always focused on my own thing at meals, so I can’t really remember if he eats well at them, but he eats in his office.
Candy, mostly. Sometimes chips. But I can’t judge someone on their food choices.
Then again, I’m fully aware my food choices aren’t healthy and that something is wrong with me, so maybe that’s not the best excuse.
When I first started coming to his office, I think he used to eat those protein meal bars everyone likes.
I remember sometimes watching him, eyeing the crinkling wrapper, wondering if it had any nuts in it.
I don’t remember the last time he ate one, though.
Or the last time I saw him drink anything other than that coffee and energy drinks.
He’s never asleep, either. No matter what time of day or night it is, he’s been in the office or downstairs somewhere nearly every time I’ve gone looking for him.
There’s a chance he sleeps on this couch, but he’s never taken very long coming to the door when I knock and he’s never had that ruffled look about him that most people get right after waking up.
He has to be sleeping though, right? Even Bryce sleeps. At a certain point, your body makes you sleep. Doesn’t it?
Today, though, he was so tired. He was barely standing with how tired he was.
He kept losing his train of thought at dinner.
I watched him the whole time while I picked a little at the burger on my plate and avoided looking at the mac ‘n cheese at all cost. At one point, I think he actually fell asleep.
At another, he went to scoop up food with his fork and stuck it in his water instead.
He hasn’t been that tired before. Not in front of me, at least. I feel sure about that. The energy drinks and the coffees and the constant working add up to something worrying, though. Especially when the growing beard and unwashed clothes and red-rimmed eyes are taken into account.
Maybe it was just because they were closing in on Elliot? Maybe the other times he got really tired were because of work too?
That would mean he can finally rest. Mica has been found and killed. Elliot has been saved. It should be calm now, right? He can work less? He can take better care of himself?
He needs to take better care of himself. If he doesn’t, I’ll do it for him. We’ll do it for each other.
I wake up half-slumped against a pile of blankets taken from my hiding spot, one of them tucked around my head like a makeshift pillow. My headphones are tangled against my chest, my iPod placed on the coffee table, a little piece of paper beneath it.
The couch is empty.
So is the rest of the office.
I don’t know why it hurts my feelings. It shouldn’t. I asked him to sleep and he did. I don’t know how long I stayed awake watching him, but even that amount of time was enough. Plus, at least he isn’t working.
The note helps.
Thank you. Really.
If this was in person, I would definitely ramble.
This is the only paper I could find though.
As you can see, it’s pretty small.
So, like, insert ramble [here], I guess?
I hope you don’t mind the blanket thing,
I couldn’t get myself to wake you.
Hope you slept as well as I did.
-Ace
His signed name is a little smooshed in the bottom right corner, like he definitely still ran out of room despite trying not to ramble. I flip it over, thinking he could have written on the back, but the back is filled with random letters, numbers, and scribbles.
I slip it into my pocket alongside my iPod, notebook, and bunny.
The top corner seam of the pocket is starting to come loose a little.
My other favorite hoodie is having the same problem in the lower corner.
I’m probably going to need to cut down on how much I’m stuffing into my pockets soon. Or learn how to sew so I can fix-
The door to the office swings open. I freeze, all of the warmth from the blankets and the note and the safety in here seeping right out of me. Then it all rushes back in, stealing my breath with relief, as I find myself locking eyes with Ace.
His grin is slow, but not because he’s drunk on exhaustion. It’s just like he’s waking up for the first time in a really long time. “Good morning, sunshine.”
I don’t have the sign for ‘sunshine’, so I fingerspell it instead, raising an eyebrow at him as I do.
He shifts on his feet. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Weird. That was weird, hey? It’s just - you’re always - I mean, you - it’s gonna sound real stupid, okay?
Like, I know it’s going to sound stupid.
And weird. And just, like, feel free to throw something at me or run away or…
I don’t know. Whatever. It’s just that you make me feel really fucking warm and you’re like the brightest fucking thing in the world, especially on the darker days, you know?
Like, there’s the blues,” he pauses to put his hand out flat, chest level.
“And there’s you.” He raises the hand as high as it can go.
He’s not looking at me, his eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder.
It feels like I’m burning up inside. “So, like, yeah. You know. Sunshine. God, sorry, what a weird fucking-”
I sidestep until he’s forced to look at me. My cheeks are warm and achey, eyes stinging. His shoulders drop. “That,” he whispers. “If you could see - it’s that right there. That smile. It’s all sunshine.”
There’s something jittery inside of me. That alive feeling that is so rare for me to find these days. I want to dig my fingers into it and cling. Or wrap myself up in it.
One night, when listening to the blues together, we found the sign for the color. I do it now, Blue, followed by, Safe, and, Warm, and, You.
“The blues make you feel like that? Warm and safe?” His smile widens. “That’s great, Matt. I’m glad-” he stops himself when I start to wave at him, shaking my head.
I move around the coffee table and put my hand out toward him. I hesitate right before making contact, looking at him to check in. He nods and murmurs, “Go ahead.”
I step into him and place my hand right over his heart. I tap it, still looking at him. Then I sign the same sequence. Blue. Warm. Safe. I tap him again after, trying to get his part in the equation to register.
He swallows hard enough for me to hear the soft click. “So, I’m… blue? And warm and safe? For you?”
I grin.
His smile wavers a little, though. “Is it - what’s the blue, Matt? Do I make you sad sometimes, too? Is it when I-”
I bring my other hand up to place beside the first and he stops.
His chin is tilted down, his brown eyes big and worried, eyebrows drawn in and also up.
He looks… scared.
I try to breathe through the frustration of me not being able to speak.
I want to explain this to him, quick and painless, so he can understand.
So he can know that he’s my sunshine too, but it’s different, it’s better - because I don’t want to have to be in the bright places, I don’t want to have to squint into the sun, I want to be able to hide.
I want to be able to tuck myself somewhere safe and sink into the fuzzy soft blue that he makes me feel, all while borrowing that sunshine warmth from him.
But that doesn’t make any sense, it doesn’t work like that, and so he’ll never be able to put the signs together to understand, and my head is starting to hurt which means writing it down won’t end up making sense, the words are going to get slippery, I can already feel them getting slippery, and I - I - I -
“Is it good?” he whispers.
I blink up, my eyes blurry. I feel his hand hovering near my shoulder.
I look over at it, taking one of my hands off of his chest to wipe at my eyes until I can see better.
Then I use my hand to grab his, pulling it until his fingers are wrapping around the curve of my shoulder.
I look up again. I can see him clearly now.
He squeezes my shoulder and asks, really really quiet, “I can touch you?”
I nod.
His other hand very slowly comes to rest on my hip. He squeezes there too. I put my free hand back on his chest and curl my fingers until I have his sweater in my hands. It’s new. Fresh and unwrinkled and soft. I can smell his soap now that I’m paying attention. His beard is shaved.
“Is it good?” he asks. “Me being blue? You don’t have to explain it, as long as it’s good.”
I grin.
Good, I sign. I make the movements big. Very good.
“Good,” he agrees, mimicking my movements.
“Then you’ll be my sunshine,” he murmurs. “And I’ll be your blue.”
There aren’t words for that, even if I could say them. I just slide my hands down and around his waist, press my head to his chest, and hug him. He hugs me back, resting his cheek on the top of my head.
Everything is so warm.
Everything is all sunshine and blue.