7. Chapter Seven #4
“It’s a lot, right?” he asks. He’s looking at me now, face open and calm, voice soft and warm.
At first, I think he means the cameras, but then he says, “I used to hide, when everything felt like too much. When my head would get messy. I couldn’t do closets or pantries.
Nothing small with doors. I liked under the bed the best. Behind our living room couch was my second favorite. ”
I blink away the burn in my eyes, focusing on him.
He hides? Under the bed?
Like me?
And - and his head - it gets messy, too?
He leans back in his chair, away from me.
His hands are loosely clasped against his stomach, his head tilted so our eyes can meet, his lips curved into an easy smile.
One of those smiles that doesn’t expect anything from you.
No pity, no concern, no questions. It’s just a smile that’s there for you to look at. To enjoy.
It’s… a really nice smile.
I think I could probably just stand here all night looking at it. Maybe if I stared long enough, if I tried hard enough, it’d settle right inside my chest until I can’t forget the warm feel of it.
“I still check for hiding places whenever I’m in a new room,” he tells me, everything about him still so soft and unassuming.
“It’s probably ridiculous. Definitely not healthy.
I haven’t had the urge to do it for a while now.
Been even longer since I actually did it.
” He shrugs. Easy. Calm. “But I still look. Every new room. Every store. Every restaurant. First thing I do, without even meaning to. I figure I could have worse coping mechanisms, right? What’s the harm in wanting to know the safest place, just in case I need it. ”
It’s easy to nod.
Sometimes it’s not. Sometimes the gestures feel just as stuck inside me as spoken words. This time it’s easy, though. It’s so, so easy.
He nods too.
A conversation, almost. Without any words at all.
“That’s the spot I’d use,” he says, pointing past me.
There’s a couch pushed up against the wall to our left, the very end of one arm touching the corner of a side table.
There’s a gap between the couch, the table, and the corner where the walls meet.
It’s big enough for a body to comfortably sit in.
Maybe even lay, if the body was curled up a little.
The lamp on the small table would keep it light enough, but from here, you wouldn’t even see anyone unless you were really looking for them.
It’s a good place to hide, he’s right.
“It's yours, if you want it.” I look back at him. He shrugs. “To hide, I mean. No pressure. Come and go as you please. If the door’s locked at the time, just knock. If it isn’t, just come in.
Seriously, don’t even stop to say hi to me if you don’t want to.
I’ll pretend you’re not even here. I won’t tell anyone where to find you, either. ”
The offer feels fragile. Too good to be true. Too kind to be real.
What will he want from me, if I hide in here?
It doesn’t feel like he would hurt me, but sometimes those are the men you have to watch the most. I’m the mute boy, after all.
How would I even manage to tell anyone if he did something to me?
Who would even believe the guy so traumatized he can’t remember how to talk?
But… he hides too, sometimes. He doesn’t expect things. Not in return for his bags of goodies or his apples or access to his hiding spot. Not words from me. Not even a hello, if the door is unlocked.
Bryce would kill me if he knew, but I trust this.
I trust Ace.
He feels like the realest thing to happen to me in so long.
He makes me feel like maybe I’m not a ghost after all. Or maybe… maybe like if I am a ghost, it’s okay. Like he wouldn’t mind me haunting the place.
Even now, he’s already turned back in his chair to look at the screens again. He didn’t wait for me to acknowledge the offer. It’s just there now. Take it or leave it. No pressure.
“Jake is out for the night, if you’re hoping to get out of here.
” He taps a finger twice on the screen to his right.
It shows the bedroom from before, the light now turned off.
“You don’t have to go. Like I said, that spot is open for you whenever, but I wanted to make sure you saw he’s handled.
I don't know where you were headed - I'm sorry, I wasn't watching the feed before - but if it's back to your room, the coast is clear up here.”
I was heading to Nolan, actually, but I’m not so sure I need him anymore.
I forgot about my nightmare. I feel fine now. No phantom swelling. No lack of air.
In fact, I’m breathing better than I have in months right now.
He’s moving things around on the screens now. I watch him drag a box from the middle screen in the top row to the screen right in front of him. He clicks twice on it and settles his hands on the keyboard. He starts typing.
He’s working again.
Of course he is. That was the deal, right? He laid out my options. No expectations. No pressure.
I can keep hiding, if I want, or I can leave. He’ll just be working either way.
I look over at the hiding place one more time. I’d have much more room than when I’m under my bed. Not too dark, but not too bright. A place where the others can’t find me. They can’t come and drag me out, or give me sad eyes, or try to get me to eat.
Not… tonight.
Not yet.
But… maybe, one day.
Just having the option makes it a little less scary to leave the room and face the reality that exists in the rest of the house. The camera feeds help, too. The coast is still clear.
I think about trying to thank him, but he’s typing something, long strings of words filling a little text box. He doesn’t need me to thank him. He doesn’t expect me to. I don’t think he’d be mad if I tried, if I interrupted, but he won’t be mad if I don’t either.
He doesn’t stop me when I unlock the door. Not when I open it, either. He doesn’t even turn to look. Doesn’t say goodbye. Doesn’t make me look at a face that’s disappointed - if he even would be disappointed.
It makes me feel a little like a ghost again. Me just coming and going with him living his life either way. A ghost he can see and talk to. A ghost he doesn’t expect to play the part of being alive.
A ghost that’s still real, but who gets to decide when it wants to be seen that way.
I crawl into my bed, pulling my bunny to my chest before curling around him.
I sleep better than I have in years.