-Cole-
I felt bad for asking Randall to hang out in the backroom of my bar while I worked, but I didn't want to leave him alone. I just... I was afraid he'd do something. Now I could keep an eye on him and make sure everything was all right.
And I had the feeling he didn't like to be left alone. When I'd told him I couldn't find anyone to cover for me, I could've sworn I saw something in his eyes. Something that had vanished the second I told him he could hang out in the backroom.
I'd been keeping a close eye on him ever since he came to stay with me. The first couple of days he'd seemed scared and timid and just... far from well. But now...
I peered at him through the partly open door. He was sitting on the couch, watching TV with a sleepy expression on his face. He yawed just before I turned to greet another customer, smiling.
I'd seen him go through the backroom, picking up statues and magazines to study them closely. He'd done that in his room at my place, too. Curiosity about his surroundings was a good sign, right? He seemed more aware of the things happening around him, and most of the time, his eyes stayed soft. Relaxed. There still was a lot of fear in him, but in just a few days, he seemed to have calmed a little.
I wished so damn hard it was because he felt safe in my place, and that the first session with Vaughn had gone well. And that he still trusted me... He hadn't told me much about his appointment with Vaughn, and I didn't ask, but he seemed open to the idea of seeing Vaughn again.
As much as I wanted to go keep him company in the back, I couldn't. We were a little understaffed currently with the flu season and all, and the nice weather kept us busy for the rest of the night. I still stole every second with him, making sure he was all right.
Right until he fell asleep.
I barely was able to snap my mouth shut on time when I stepped into the backroom, only to see him fast asleep on the couch. I held my breath, hoping I hadn't woken him up, but when it looked like I hadn't disturbed him, I let the air out and carefully tiptoed my way to him. I grabbed a blanket from the shelves and tucked him in before sneaking back to the door to turn off the lights.
I smiled at the sight of him sleeping soundly, then pulled the door almost closed, leaving a small gap so I could keep checking up on him.
When I turned around, my co-worker, Paulina, shot a questioning look at me.
"He's asleep..." I muttered. "Let's try not to disturb him."
"Should I turn the music off?" she asked with a chuckle.
"You could turn it down a notch," I said, not realizing she'd been joking.
"How is he doing?" Paulina asked as she made her way to the sound system.
"He needs some rest," I only said, and she left it at that.
I let out a deep, heavy sigh. I hadn't told my staff much about Randall, only that he was having a hard time and was staying with me for now. It wasn't right to talk about his private matters with anyone, so I was thankful no one had asked anything about Randall spending his evening in our backroom.
I was surprised Randall was able to sleep on the small couch in such a noisy place. Maybe he really did need the rest because I didn't spot him awake, not even once, during the rest of the evening. He didn't even wake up whenever one of us had to sneak past him to get to the bathroom or to our closets.
He was still sleeping once we were done for the night. We cleaned in silence and the rest of the staff left, leaving me alone with Randall. I really didn't want to wake him up, but my back hurt just by watching him all curled up on the small couch.
"Hey...?" I mumbled as I walked to him. I crouched next to the couch. "I'm sorry, but you might want to continue sleeping in your bed."
He was so fast asleep I had to shake him a few times. When he finally opened his eyes, he gave me a groggy look, not fully understanding where he was.
"Cole..." he muttered and pushed himself to sit up. "What time is it?"
"It's three in the morning."
"What? How?"
"You slept for hours," I told him and backed away to give him room to sit up. "I'm amazed you could sleep through all that noise..."
"I..." he looked around with a pretty shocked expression on his face. "I guess I was tired..." he then said, rubbing his eyes.
"Do you want to grab a beer before heading home?" I asked.
"Sure," he mumbled, standing up. "Did I really sleep for so long?"
I watched him with a smile on my face. He seemed so... relaxed now. His eyes were soft – and sleepy – when he looked around the empty bar. Seeing that brought a smile to my face. He looked so good when he wasn't afraid.
And I hoped it meant I hadn't lost his trust. It was my fault he'd tried to hurt himself, and I was sure I'd never learn to live with that fact. I honestly couldn't. My selfishness had driven him into a horrifying corner where he thought he only had one way out.
How could I ever live with that?
"Here," I said, giving him a bottle of beer as we sat down next to the bar counter.
I tried to get back into the cheery mood, but the dark thoughts lingered. I'd wanted to ask him, but... He was doing so well. Better, at least. I didn't... I didn't want to bring up that night in case the softness in his eyes would disappear.
"You look tired," he suddenly spoke, and I looked at him.
He was watching me, and I couldn't detect a hint of hate or anger or disappointment or fear in his eyes when he looked at me.
"It was quite busy today," I only said.
He nodded, and we both stayed silent for a while.
"How did I sleep through all that...?" he suddenly muttered, and I chuckled.
"You seem to be a heavy sleeper," I said. "I hope it's a good thing."
"What do you mean?"
I hesitated, trying to find the courage to look him in the eyes.
"I..."
How could I bring it up?
"Because..." I tried again, but didn't really know how to continue.
"Just spit it out," he said and took a sip of his beer.
"I'm just... After what happened... I've been afraid that... you don't trust me," I finally managed to say. "It's my fault it happened."
"It's not your fault," he said. "Would I be here if I...?"
I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. His eyes were already growing tense again.
"I'm sorry I brought it up," I hurried to say. "I shouldn't... I shouldn't have..."
He shook his head. "He doesn't want me to have these... thoughts. He doesn't want me to be... It's not your fault. You've done so much for me. And I trust you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
"I feel horrible. I can't... I shouldn't have pushed you like that," I said, my stomach twisting unpleasantly. "I hate myself. If you had... If I hadn't stopped you..."
"It's not your fault," he said again. "I scared the crap out of myself. Even I didn't know I could do something... something like that... But I don't blame you one bit. You better believe me."
I shook my head but didn't push the topic further. We continued drinking in silence for a good while. For once, I had nothing to say. I didn't even feel like talking.
"So you're making me do the talk thing..." he muttered, and sighed. "I thought you believed me when I said it wasn't your fault."
I tried to smile, but I had no reason to smile. "How can I live with myself?" I whispered.
"You didn't know. I didn't know. I was..." he trailed off, looking at his bottle. "You... made me want things. You made me feel. But I'm a mess, so I...."
"But I shouldn't have pushed you. I knew you had problems and still I–"
"Cole," he said my name gently. "I already died long before I met you."
I stopped to stare at him. He let go of his bottle and turned his gaze to my hands. Then, slowly, he reached over the table and touched my fingers so lightly I wasn't sure if I only imagined it.
"But because of you," he murmured, "I want to live."
I wanted so badly to take his hand in mine. I was dying to do so, but I stayed immobile. It was so rare for him to touch me, and I feared if I pushed him again...
"That's on you," he said without looking at me, and slowly moved his finger across my hand. "You pushed me out of being dead. That is all you did that night."
He finally looked up at me. His eyes were soft again.
"You better believe me," he added.
I let out a breath. He was still moving his finger on my skin. He looked so... calm. Relaxed.
"I'll try to," I promised.
"Good," he said. "Because one of us needs to stay sane or we're both doomed."
I snorted in amusement at his words. "Yeah, I guess so."
And when I looked at him again, I could've sworn I saw a hint of a smile in his eyes right before he turned his attention back to my hand.
"You know... I'm actually looking forward to seeing Vaughn again," he admitted quietly.
"You are?" I asked gently, his words making me happy.
He nodded. "I have a good feeling about him. And... staying with you. You... You're making me... want to go see him."
"Is that so?" I breathed out.
"Yeah... I don't want that empty corner anymore..." he whispered, then suddenly pulled back. "Anyway. Your bar really looks like it's your bar."
I assumed we had reached his limits, and even though I wasn't quite sure what he meant by the corner, but because I didn't want to push him, I didn't ask.
"I'm taking that as a compliment," I said with a grin.
"It is," he said, looking around. "Reminds me of your apartment. It's... nice and... colorful. And warm."
"You mean cluttered from top to bottom?" I asked.
"That's not a bad thing," he said quietly.
I stopped to watch him again as he stared at my silly decorations. It had to be because his apartment was so empty and cold... He must've felt bad in his own home...
"Well, as long as you like it," I finally said.
"I do," he whispered, and again, I was sure there was a smile dancing in his soft eyes.