Him. {Scomiche}

8

He didn't let me sleep more than a couple of hours before he was waking me for dinner. It felt strange to eat pizza on expensive plates in his fancy dining room, but the conversation was light and easy and I let myself forget all of the bad things again... just for a little while.

Afterward, we moved to the living room to watch tv and I had to fight every urge to cuddle up against him. He was so close, just a foot away... it would have been so easy, but I didn't. I was saved from my misery when Scott went to grab my medicine and came back to find his spot firmly taken by Arty who had sprawled out along the length of the couch, head in my lap.

Scott just laughed and shook his head. "I see how it is."

"He loves me."

"I can see that." He chuckled as he handed me my medication and a cold bottle of water.

"Traitor," he aimed at the content pup lazing in my lap before getting comfortable in a huge recliner nearby.

I ingested my drug cocktail and settled back to watch whatever was playing on the tv, fingers buried in soft, warm fur.

Neither of us said a word for a long time, but it wasn't awkward, it was comforting. It's strange that I could have done the same exact thing without him being there, but it wouldn't have felt the same. Just his presence made everything different... and once I realized it, I disappeared into my thoughts to over think everything again.

He'd done so much for me, far more than any sane person would or should. He'd welcomed me into his life, his home, without question. Me... an admitted thief..

Why did he enjoy spending time with someone who had zero interesting stories to tell?

How many times could I drown under the same questions circling like a never ending carousel of doubt.

"Ready to go to bed, Arty?" The dog was smart, and he immediately hopped up to go sit at the entrance of the hallway to wait for me. "I swear he understands English."

"And some french."

"Way to be smarter than me." I pouted at Art who just calmly wagged his tail.

"Need help?" Scott asked when I began to struggle to my feet.

"I got it." I didn't, but be damned if I was going to make him get up just to help me get off of a couch. I could deal with the pain. We got there eventually, if just a little slower than usual.

"Night. If you need anything please let me know. And..." he chewed on his lip, obviously wanting to say something he wasn't sure I'd react happily to.

"And?"

"Please don't run away."

Damn. Those words and those puppy dog eyes nearly knocked me over with the weight of them. I wasn't sure I'd ever understand him and why he'd ever care so much about a man who didn't even remotely deserve it, but I was beginning to get used to his strange benevolence.

"I don't think I'm up for much running. Besides, I'm pretty sure your fancy security system would definitely let you know the moment I opened the door."

His face scrunched in a bit. "You're not a prisoner. The code is 76010 if you really want to disable it."

I literally face palmed. The idiot had no sense of self preservation. "Scott, you don't tell a thief your security codes!"

"You're not going to steal anything."

"You don't know that!"

"I do. I can tell. I trust you."