Never Been Kissed(20)

Hunter squints at me, hands fisting at his side, but I already saw them shaking. “Let me do this. You’ll be right next door, super close by.”

He needs help. I guess when I’ve known intimately what it’s like to struggle, to need someone’s help without wanting to ask for it, I now have this perverse need to give it to him. I can’t stand watching someone else in pain when I can do something to fix it.

“He’s my responsibility. I don’t need you doing me any favours.” He notices my wet cheeks, the mascara runs that are undoubtedly there. “Why are you crying?” The words are thrown out like an accusation, like I’m doing it to get sympathy.

I shrug, wiping my cheeks. “It really sucks that he has diabetes. That you both do. It... just really sucks.”

Hunter stares at me for a long time, blue eyes bright, and somehow seeing right through me. That gaze looks at all the ugly parts, all the unwanted parts, but his face never says anything. “It hurts you, having to take care of him?” His voice has gone soft, but it still sounds dangerous.

“Yeah,” my voice is watery again. I clear my throat.

“Good. Say your goodbyes in the morning. I need to sleep. And keep your cell phone near you. The calls every fifteen minutes still stands.” He pushes off the wall giving me back Tony, and stomps to his door. He doesn’t slam the door when he gets into his apartment, but he does shut it nice and firm. Enough to prove a point - I’m not welcome in there, and that’s fine. After tomorrow morning, I’m out of Matty’s life forever.





I didn’t sleep at all. Two things caused my insomnia and they’re both related: Hunter and Matty.

I slept on the couch with Matty, wanting to be close by. The bloody thing is long enough to fit Khal Drogo with room to spare, so I’m hoping Matty slept better than I did.

I kept waking up every half hour, expecting Hunter to call, and when he didn’t, I checked on Matty’s breathing. Only when I felt his pulse strong and steady underneath my fingers did I go back to sleep, wondering if I should test his sugar while he’s dreaming.

I did it, humming the Mission Impossible theme song under my breath. When his glucometer flashed him at sixteen, I felt like I’d swallowed razors. My cautious plan of two units feels like such a failure.

I can’t find a silver lining to this. I stroke Matty’s hair off his forehead, wondering where his Mom is, how come she can’t take care of him, and why Hunter’s all alone. And then there’s his Dad – beautiful, strong, exhausted Hunter. Like an autobot, there’s more to him than meets the eye – I wasn’t expecting that, for him to have layers underneath all his beauty.

I stay up until four thirty and take his blood again. I hate, hate, hate that I’m hurting him, over and over again because I’m stupid, because I’m so worried I wish I could throw up to the loosen the knots my stomach’s twisted into. How does Hunter do this, every day, multiple times a day?

When I check again, it’s gone down to fourteen. I don’t understand. He’s not moving, there’s no reason for sugar in his blood to be burned other than for sleep. It’s dropping. Oh, Christ, it’s dropping!

I reach for my phone – stop. I don’t have Hunter’s number. He called me before from a blocked number – the hospital’s. Should I just go over and knock on the door? No. I decide to wait another half hour to check again.

I read to waste the time. On my phone, I put the brightness just below blinding and keep it pointed at my face so it doesn’t bother the little guy. Where’s his Mom? Why is Hunter alone, trying to take care of him?

Doesn’t matter. After this morning, Matty is gone from my life. I ignore the Matty-shaped hole forming in my chest, right behind my heart. He needs his Dad, not me. And it’s not like I’m not going to see him, he lives right next door.

I watch Matty sleep, feeling a little like Agent Coulson watching Cap. I didn’t know it was possible to go to sleep smiling. I’ve never had one of those nights, like the day’s been so freaking amazing, going to sleep to dream about is another bonus.

Hard not to imagine Hunter like this when he was younger. But I know nobody’s born twisted. It’s done to them. Sometimes, the knots are so tangled together you can’t do anything but watch them slowly wither away. I don’t want that for Hunter. Matty deserves better.

My phone buzzes in my hand, making my whole body jerk like I’ve been having a dream about falling down the stairs. My breath whistles through my teeth as I swipe my thumb across the screen and put it to my ear.