Serendipity

Don't wait for me

When I heard that sickening thump that echoed from the bathroom, I felt my stomach drop.

"Sydney?" I tried calling, but there was no response. Should I go inside? He was still naked though- I shook my head, banishing the unholy thoughts.

After another few seconds of debating and silence, I squeezed my eyes shut and grabbed the towel I knew would be beside the entryway as I opened the door.

Opening my eyes just enough so I could see the general figure of Sydney, I draped the towel over him, then opened my eyes and took in the situation.

First, I thought, I have to turn off the water. Then, get Sydney out of the shower, and then try to get him to wake up.

I quickly did the first two things, then took a couple steps back and opened the closet door and pulled out one of the light, old blankets.

I draped the blanket over him, wrapping it around him as I scooped him up into my arms.

I knelt on the floor, snatching the clothes I had placed on the counter just a minute ago and propping his head up with them. I cradled him in my arms, trying to stay calm as I stared at his still figure.

"Sydney?" I said quietly. If the thump didn't alert Mom, me shouting definitely would. My heart pounded. Was he even breathing? "Sydney?"

That time, I saw him stir, and his lips parted slightly so he could say my name. Relief washed over me.

You know the rest from there.

Now, as I close the door behind me and press my back against the painted wood, I swallow.

I know he was just teasing, but his words formed an image that I might've had if I hadn't closed my eyes. Damn me for being courteous even when he isn't conscious. No, no, that was good. If I had kept my eyes open, I would be no better than a creep.

I listen to the sounds of rustling fabric, still feeling a bit like a creep, but also reassured by the knowledge that he can put on his clothes by himself.

I stay true to my word and remain outside the bathroom while he puts on the clothes, but step back when the door opens.

Sydney, looking more pale than before, sends me a weak smile.

I open my mouth, then close it again and step forward so I can slide my arms around him when he looks like he's about to pass out again.

"You okay?" I ask quietly. He nods, but doesn't pull away.

"I'm really tired," He mumbles, sighing.

"Want me to..." I hesitate. "Carry you?"

He nods again, and I swallow. I step back, adjust my hold on him, then lift him up. He gasps in surprise, flinging his arms around my neck out of instinct.

"What's wrong?" I frown, looking at him. Is he feeling faint?

"I..." He glances at me, then laughs. "I didn't think you'd actually pick me up!"

"Oh, sorry," I widen my eyes. He's really light, so it isn't like it's very difficult. He's probably only ninety pounds, which is like holding a feather compared to some of my other friends when they jumped into my arms as a joke. "Want me to put you down?"

He snorts and leans his head against my chest, closing his eyes. "No. I like it."

My heart skips about three beats, which can't be healthy.

"Alright," I bite my lip. "To the air mattress!"

I don't make a big deal out of carrying him, but knowing he likes it makes me kinda sorta want to keep him up here with me for a little longer.

I kneel beside the air mattress, wincing as the extra weight makes the landing slightly painful, and let Sydney slide down onto the prepared blanket.

"I'm gonna go get a shower," I say, lifting the sheets away as he scoots up towards the pillow and then draping them gently over him. "So don't go anywhere."

"I don't think I can," He mutters, but he's smiling.

I stand and turn to my wardrobe. I've only just opened the drawer when he speaks again.

"Hey."

I glance over my shoulder, tilting my head. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to say..." He sucks on the inside of his cheek for a second. "Thanks. And I'm sorry."

I blink, a pair of underwear in my hand. "Of course. And why?"

He closes his eyes. "Just wanted to say it."

I open my mouth to speak, then change my mind and nod instead.

"Okay."

He smiles, and I quietly walk over to the door, grabbing my pajama pants from where I prepared them on the end of my bed.

"Don't wait for me," I tell him, pausing in the doorway. "It's okay if you fall asleep."

"Alright," He nods, eyes still closed.

I smile and go to take my shower.

---

By the time I've finished and come back to the room, Sydney is out like a light and snoring softly. His hair is messy, and he has one arm tossed over his eyes, palm upturned.

"You should've said you were tired before it got this late," I snort and shake my head. I toss my dirty clothes into a corner by my closet and put his aside to wash before he leaves tomorrow.  Or maybe I should do that now.

I nod decisively and scoop up his clothes again, then use my toe to open the door so I can head downstairs.

I'm halfway to the washroom when suddenly Mom pops out of her office, holding an empty mug that has fresh coffee stains on the insides.

Her eyes widen in surprise, then she smiles.

"What're you doing?" She asks, glancing at the clothes in my arms.

"Sydney's laundry," I shrug. I slide past her, ignoring the feeling of her eyes on me, and toss his clothes into the open washing machine.

"That's nice of you," She comments, tapping her mug against the wall. I take a soap sheet and place it inside on top of his clothes. "How is he?"

"Asleep," I smile at the memory of his cute little snore.

"I heard a big thump a while ago," She says offhandedly.  I flinch. "What was that?"

I debate lying, then realize that if he bruises, I won't be able to explain that to her. So instead I just downplay it. I don't think Sydney would want my mom worrying about him.

"He tripped on a blanket and fell," I tell her, closing the washing machine and starting it. I turn around to face her. "But I'm pretty sure he's okay now." Sounds true enough.

"Alright," She nods slowly. "Well, as long as you're both having fun and staying safe. I'm probably going to have a late night tonight since I'm running behind schedule. They want the third book out by next month and I've barely started."

My Mom is an author, not super well-known, but the people who do read her books love them. She started writing a few years ago, but still gets really stressed about deadlines.

"Try to get at least a couple hours of sleep," I say, patting her shoulder and walking past as she moves out of the way.

She smiles. "I'll try."

"Good night, Mom."

"Good night, Tim."

I pause at the base of the staircase. "I love you."

She blinks, mug frozen over the sink. Then she inclines her head, her smile spreading to her eyes. "I love you, too."