The Rhythm Of Rescue

012 | Just a guest

I unlocked my bedroom door, a habit I usually skipped, but Theodore being around made me extra cautious. It was weird having a guy crash at my place, especially for a whole night. Hell, it was weird having anyone over for more than ten minutes, period.

Stepping into the living room, my heart did a little jump when I spotted a figure lurking in my kitchen, right by the wide-open fridge. Theodore, startled as much as me, slammed the fridge door shut and turned to face me, looking very flustered. His hand shot up to scratch his hair which looked like a bird's nest, with a few stray strands sticking out every which way.

"Uh," he stammered, sounding totally caught off guard. "I was just leaving."

He shuffled out of the kitchen to grab his guitar by the couch.

Brutus started barking as Theodore made a beeline for the front door. He stood there for a long moment, his back to me, and I just stood there, arms crossed, watching him, my mind racing.

Could I actually handle having him around if I, you know, hypothetically asked him to stay? I mean, the dude's ego was about as big as the sun, and it'd probably burned a lot of bridges, leaving him with nowhere to go. But he was too stubborn to admit he was basically homeless now.

I looked over at Brutus, his sad doggy eyes fixed on Theodore as he walked away. It always amazed me how perceptive dogs could be, how they could sense when something or someone didn't sit right with them, and how they would never hesitate to let their feelings be known, loud and clear. And in Brutus' case, his fondness for Theodore added a layer of trust in my mind. I mean, we'd already shared a roof for two nights, and so far, I was still alive...

I let out a dramatic sigh and followed Theodore out the door. He'd only gone as far as four steps. Without even realizing it, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"You have nowhere else to go, right?"

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face me, avoiding direct eye contact. One hand lazily found its way into his jeans pocket, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

With a hint of hesitation, I offered, "You can stay here..."

There was a stretched silence.

"Really?" His response was more of an accusation than a question.

I tried to explain myself, stumbling over my words slightly. "I mean, I know you're in a tough spot right now, and I'm just... trying to help. I'm a good person, and believe it or not, we still exist."

Theodore's eyes met mine directly, and he spoke with a sense of determination. "I promise I'll pay you back once I get a job. I won't stay for more than a week."

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

I could only manage a nod in response as I stepped aside, allowing him to enter the apartment.

As Theodore made himself comfortable on the couch again, he removed his coat and slumped down. "Where's your suitcase?" I noticed, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"It got stolen at the Bath and Spa," he replied coolly, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

I just stood there, my brain short-circuiting. I didn't know what to say, so I just stood there like an idiot, my feet glued to the spot.

Finally, to break the awkward silence, I blurted out, "You can use my bathroom ... if.. if you need to take a bath." It was the only bathroom in the whole apartment, and it was in my room. Theodore looked up, his eyes meeting mine for a split second before he looked away. I turned and marched into my room, grabbing a fresh towel and an old, oversized college orientation t-shirt I'd worn maybe once.