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

Forty Two

Chapter Forty Two:

A ringing sounded, a shrill noise that had been long forgotten.

Theodora jolted awake, blinking widely. Her landline was ringing, only one person had that number. She trampled out of bed, having fallen asleep in her clothes after coming back from a day with Malcolm.

She stumbled to the living room and grabbed the device, placing it up against her ear.

"What's wrong?"

There was a long pause, "What?"

"Malcolm, why are you calling my landline."

"So you'd answer."

Theodora took a deep breath, "What's wrong?" She asked again.

"I can't sleep."

She frowned, "How bad is it?"

There was no response, just his quiet breathing on the other end. "I'm coming over." She told him, hanging up the phone. Theodora ran to the front door where her bag from the day before was thrown, she gripped it tightly as she found her keys and slipped out the door.

Streets were surprising empty, even for whatever time it was in the middle of the night. Theodora hadn't bothered to check, her worry overpowering anything else in her mind.

It took longer for her to get to his apartment than she was expecting, but running all the way there wasn't an option. Instead she ran until she spotted a taxi parked on the side of the road, taking her the rest of the way.

The front door was open when she arrived, and she swung it open and threw herself up the stairs. Stumbling into the main room she found Malcolm sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

"Mal?"

He looked up at her, "Hey."

"Are you alright?" She surged forward, dropping her bag onto the kitchen counter. "Talk to me."

He stood up, rocking back and fourth on his heels. "It's getting worse."

Theodora closed her eyes, "I know."

They fell into a silence, then she made her way over to him and sat him back down. "Take a deep breath."

He did, muttering a countdown under his breath. Theodora shuffled to the fridge, taking out a cartoon of milk. She grabbed a glass and filled it half way before delivering it to him, "Here."

He gave her a faint smile, taking a small sip. "Tell me about it." She sat next to him, "What are you seeing?"

Malcolm sat the glass on the nightstand, "I see everything. New things. It all jumbles together—"

"Slow down. Take your time, it's okay."

He nodded slowly, "I-I... I just want to sleep."

Theodora pursed her lips, "Lay down. I'll be right next to you the whole time. If anything happens I'll wake you up. You won't be stuck there for to long, hopefully."

He glanced at her, "You don't have too."

"Get some sleep."

Malcolm shifted and shuffled himself under the covers, laying himself down on the other side. She sat next to him, leaning up against the headboard. His breaths were soft, the sheets crumpling as he found a comfortable spot. Theodora looked to the window, wood still boarding the missing glass. She could see from the glass that hadn't been touched, the city asleep outside. Faint lights illumined the room, casting shadows along the far wall.

"How do you deal with it?" Malcolm whispered, eyes closed. "Knowing everything about him. What he's told you... your mother."

Theodora leaned her head to the side, "I don't think about it."

"How can you not."

"I've been doing it my entire life. I'm good at it now." She mumbled, "But it's not a good thing, Malcolm. It bubbles over, everything I've pushed away. And I break down. I don't want you to break."

"I haven't."

"Yet." Her voice fell to a whisper, "I haven't really either, but one day it will happen and there will be no way to climb back up. What your father did was sick, but you're not him. You have never been him and never will. You need to stop comparing yourself to that man, just because you looked up to him as a kid doesn't mean you'll end up like The Surgeon."

He shifted again, metal clanged against each other. Theodora grabbed the chain and tossed it off the bed, it crashed onto the wood flooring but Malcolm didn't move. He remained still, curled up underneath the covers. "I still see him. My mother. The box."

Theodora moved closer to him, moving the hair from his face. "Tell me about something."

"What?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. Tell me... about what makes you happy. What makes you smile."

Malcolm sighed, itching his nose. He adjusted his head on the pillow, "What makes me happy." He snorted, "Not a lot these days"

She flicked his arm, "Hey."

His eyes were still closed, voice low. "I like working. It takes my mind off of everything, gives me something to focus on."

Theodora nodded slowly, pulling her hand away but his own came up and placed hers back on his hair. She chuckled, running her hands through the short strands.

"What else?"

"My bird."

She snorted, "I've tuned him out."

A steady silence filled the air, and fatigue tugged at Theodora's own eyes. Unlike Malcolm, she could sleep. And lately, that's all she wanted to be doing.

"You." He whispered, "When I see you. When I talk to you. When I think of you. Every stupid thing you say—"

"What do I say that's stupid?" She interrupted.

"Bing Batta Boom."

"Never mind."

He was silent again, then shifted onto his side facing her. "How long have we been friends?"

Theodora pursed her lips, "I don't know."

He opened his eyes, looking at her. "A long time."

"And?"

"And I've never taken you on a date."

Suddenly she was wide awake, "Huh?"

He closed his eyes, shifting to his back. Theodora stared down at him, waiting for his reply.

"Are you asking me out?" She questioned, glancing at the clock behind him. "At 4:37 in the morning?"

"Yes." He mumbled.

She smiled, "Good."

An eye opened, "Is that a yes?"

"Mhm."

Malcolm pulled the covers higher, covering his head. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it, thinking. Seconds later she scooted down and underneath the covers of the mattress, laying her head down on the pillow. She stared at the ceiling, counting every slight ridge in the smooth finish.

"Ok, so my first order as the girlfriend is for you to go to sleep."

There was no reply, just soft snores. Theodora grinned, she didn't know if he heard but he was asleep. At least he had listened one way or another.