All about control

one step forward, two steps back (may)

Theo stays at the bottom of the stairs, body unwilling to move. Or, rather, his desire to force it into motion is muted beneath the cacophony in his head. What Liam said is rattling around, crashing haphazardly with everything from the last month. He blinks, dropping his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair, fighting back a groan.

Things have been nothing but confusing between him and Liam for a while.

That night that they finally talked about what was going on, Theo had almost let it slip. His Things I Can't list got a little too close to spilling out, all because Liam needed to hear it, to understand what Theo had been fighting to not to say, or feel, for months. If the phone hadn't rung... He sighs, head pressing further into his fingers. But it had, and it had snapped him back to reality. A reality where he wasn't what Liam deserved, a reality where he can't get what he wanted because as selfish as he can be he would never drag Liam down with him.

Theo shakes out his hands, finally finding it in himself to stand. He teeters for a second, legs numb. Life tingles back into them, making him grit his teeth against the onslaught. He didn't think he sat that long. But, nighttime has its own rules when it comes to time.

Instead of focusing on what he can't do, unwilling to sit in this dread any longer, he decides to do something more productive.

With careful steps, mindful of the various supernatural teenagers present, he walks to the living room, surveying it silently. Jenna was going to be less than happy if she were to come home to this. He shakes his head, setting about cleaning up a home that isn't even his own.

He picks his way strategically around the puppies, picking up discarded bottles and cups and carrying them to the trash can in the kitchen. To his surprise, they all stay fast asleep, soft snores and the random mumbles here and there filling the room. All of them blissfully unaware of Theo's current spiral. He stuffs the last few cups with the greasy napkins, which he refuses to pick up with more than his claw tips, done with that room in under twenty minutes, according to the microwave clock.

He settles into the kitchen, starting with the dishes in the sink. The familiar motions of scrubbing at the plates and cups until they are spotless lets his body take over, running on autopilot. Every so often he stops, listening intently for any change in the sleeping residents, though more often than not, he gets distracted by a particular  heartbeat, only continuing when he finally recognizes it as the calm and definitive drumming of the beta's resting pulse.

Liam's voice is ringing in his ears again. You hurt me all the time. He winces, a grimace following shortly after as he sets the last plate down. A new round of rocks fill his stomach the longer he thinks of their last interactions. All those moments he allowed himself to think about what could have been, when he didn't bother masking his emotions, letting Liam hear the way his heart skipped or his pulse quickened because he would hear the same damn thing in return...

A faint growl seeps from his tight shut lips. They've been in this bubble for months . Small touches, gentle voices and longing looks that neither of them make comments on in the morning. They've never gone past the occasional spooning while watching movies, or the nights where Liam's head finds its way into Theo's lap and Theo's fingers tangle their way into his hair until they eventually fall asleep.

He had hoped, stupidly, that Liam felt the same, but it was selfish of him. Liam deserves more. God , Liam deserves everything.

Theo shakes his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are starting to sting, the view of soapy dishes in front of him are starting to blur together as tears fight their way into his vision.

(!!!)

The plate drops from his hand, cracking on the edge of the sink, half sloshing into the soapy water and half falling off the counter. On instinct, he scrambles to catch it, knowing any, if not all, of the werewolves would come roaring to life if it hit the ground. Flinging himself down, his hand curls around the fractured ceramic, tightening as his knees jam into the floor.