AN: This pairing needs more love, so here we go.

He lets her in without a word when she appears in the dead of night, hair roughened and a thick sweater wrapped around her.

Before he can speak she's thrown the trailing ends around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder. The cold eschews invitation, creeping through the open door and up his legs, but he stands steady, holding her.

Theo mumbles something about thank god, it's over, and when they pull apart he tucks her hair behind her ears.

Closes the door and thinks about extra blankets and pillows and the last time he's cleared all his notebooks off the couch, but when he turns around she's already gone, breezed past to his own bedroom.

There's just enough light to make out the silhouette of her throwing her sweater over her head, slithering out of her jeans and pulling her bra from beneath her tank top, painting his floor with islands of clothing to step around.

He tries not to stare; tries just to be here, returning beneath the covers as she picks her own way in, meeting him from the other side of the bed.

And then her arms are around him again. Her head settles on his chest, her legs twining with his.

This is the side of her he hasn't seen as much of—impetuous, greedy for affection. Headstrong enough to demand it. Hasn't seen much of her at all lately, and there's a sweet, agonizing pain in his chest as his heart strains to fit again what he'd relinquished some time ago.

He tries to sleep like this, but mostly floats in between shallow dreams and a heady awareness.

It's early, early light when he blinks the sight of her sprawled beside him, explosive curls over his pillow and the curve of her breast and one dark peak free of her neckline. It stirs something inside him—a lust, a tenderness. He pulls the blanket over her and she squirms in protest, blindly grabbing his hand and hauling it around her.

"Theo," he murmurs.

Her eyes squeeze tight, refusing to open.

Philip sighs and lets her wrap him around her, hoping she'll have the grace to ignore any inconvenient ideas, half-formed or otherwise, that his body may have. Puzzles over her familiarity when she's usually so guarded. When she's been almost a stranger to him the past year.

But it's a lot nicer than he thought, being this close to her. Her hair smells something like home, and her rib cage is soft and alive as she silently breathes in and out, and she's not calling him freckle face or poet boy.

He doesn't know what was said between her and Joe, but she'll tell him soon enough. For now, she needs him, and Philip suspects he might need her, too.

""""

His alarm sounds sometime after seven, and she grumbles at him.

"I have class at eight," he whispers in apology, rolling onto his back to reach for it. His other arm is pinned, tingling beneath her and she shows no signs of letting it go. "Theo…"

"I'm staying here," she murmurs into the pillow, but scooches up enough that he can escape. Finds his limbs heavier, sleepier than he'd thought.

"Fine with me." With more reluctance than he'd anticipated, he pushes himself from the bed and climbs into the shower. No longer alone in his apartment, he almost forgets to close the door when he usually doesn't bother. Will is rarely home enough to catch him these days, or if he is, he's sleeping. There's a slim chance of her getting out of bed within the next ten minutes or so, but he chooses caution anyway.

As the hot water streams over his skin, he remembers what worry feels like. Remembers what it is to worry for her, like he does for Angie and his younger brothers, except it's somehow different. More urgent. A cool, burning hand clutching and twisting his insides.

It doesn't trouble him in the slightest that she and Joe have broken up. He just hopes it's what she wants. Hopes it doesn't interfere with the rest of her life.

One day of classes she could understandably miss, but if she plans on longer, he'll have to come up with some sort of plan to help motivate her.

Doesn't mind the idea of her staying with him a while. The bigger challenge will be keeping up on his own studies. She has a talent for distracting him, knowingly or not. Maybe, he can get her to study with him, if he could be certain they wouldn't run into Joe at the library.

Shakes his head and thinks short term. Her clothes. Her things. Her friends, divided. Her father—

Fuck. Her father. No—

Short term. Food. A bed to sleep in, a shower, someplace quiet to study. They'd sort the rest out later.

Philip turns the shower knobs with a creak and steps out to dry himself. He emerges with his waist covered, toweling at his hair and a toothbrush in his mouth as he pads to the kitchen.

"Do you sing like that every morning?" a voice asks from behind him.

"Huh?" Philip pulls his head from the fridge to find her standing there, bare-legged with sleepy hair and a teasing smile. It doesn't quite mask the deep exhaustion she's trying to hide.

"In the shower," Theo crosses her arms over her chest.

"Oh," he wipes at the tiny bit of drool that escapes the corner of his mouth and takes his toothbrush out. "Was I? I didn't even realize—"

"Don't be embarrassed. You have a really nice voice."

Somehow, he only feels himself go redder. "Thanks. Uh, are you hungry? Coffee? I thought you said you weren't going anywhere."

"Why, do you want me to stay?"

He can't tell if she's teasing anymore. Doesn't want to say the wrong thing. Waits too long to shrug. "I don't mind—"

She walks up to take the milk carton lingering in his hand and leans in to blow one of the wet, springy curls from his forehead. "I'm staying."

"Okay."

"I mean, it's not like I've got anywhere to go right now, anyway." Settles in his favorite chair at the table like she'd never left. He has a flash of her sitting there, snorting laughter into a hand of cards, hair shorter, eyes all scrunched up as he bickered with Will.

Philip swallows. "Have you talked to him?"

"It's not even eight," she snorts into the cereal box she's opening. If she's going for unaffected, her voice is certainly cheerless. "He might have texted me, though. I haven't checked."

"What about your clothes and things?"

Finally her calmness slips, and she looks up with a sigh. "I don't know. I'm not going back there today, that's for sure."

Philip can see no way around it. "Do you want me to go and get them?"

"No," she says quickly. "That would be bad."

"Theo…"

"We'll talk about it later. Don't you have to get to class? You're going to be late."

"Shit," he glances at the clock, realizing she's right.

"Don't forget your pants."

Philip rolls his eyes, slipping a hand into his hair to sweep the damp curls into their natural fall.

"Here," he wrestles with his keychain for a minute on his way out and places one lone key on the table next to her. "Just text me if you won't be here when my classes are over."

And he hopes, hopes, hopes she will be.