Sherlock was infuriating to watch a movie with. I didn't mind though. I just made him pop popcorn into his mouth between yelling at the screen about how wrong everything was. He pointed out every messed up camera angle, every misspoken word, every discrepancy. It was fantastic. I probably shouldn't have picked Ghostbusters as the movie to watch. It was just there.
I was glad he ate. I found myself staring at him talking about the movie more than actually watching it. I was afraid he would disappear much like I was afraid to close the door to his room. He was always there though. I think he caught me staring at him more than once but he didn't say anything. He just continued his corrections.
I found myself popping in Ghostbusters II before he could object. I didn't want to think about doing anything else. I didn't want to leave his side and I didn't want him to leave mine. I wasn't ready to talk yet. Not after the conversation from that morning.
He complained about being subjected to more torment but he didn't get up to leave or take the movie out. He stayed next to me on the couch.
Sometimes I would wait till he reached into the popcorn to take another bite and I would reach in at the same time to make our hands brush. It wasn't enough that he was there. The touch reminded me that this was real and I was really awake.
After the movie I made to get us some proper dinner. I wanted him to keep eating. He just complained that he had already eaten for the day. I wasn't hearing of it. I ordered Chinese food and set up some water for fresh tea.
Sherlock stayed on the couch. I wasn't sure what he was doing. Probably thinking. I didn't ask. I didn't need to.
I finished off our tea and brought a cup over to him which he took. I took that as a good sign. I sat in my chair, staring at him sipping from his cup. He looked at me quizzically and I let him.
"You're not going on your computer."
I didn't know what he was getting at. "No I'm not."
"This is the point where you would do that. Normally you would start to poke around online and on your blog."
"Well it's not every day your friend comes back from the dead."
"I knew you would avoid your blog at first but it's been a long time. Surely people have let it go." I think my silence answered his question. The truth was most people had stopped but the comments were still there. They weren't deleted. "Show me."
"I don't think-" His sigh cut me off from my argument and he got up and grabbed my laptop flipping it open and staring at the login screen. "You won't- you just figured out my password didn't you?" The screen flashed as he guessed, or deduced or whatever, my password and brought up my blog. I didn't want to see it. I watched him sit in his chair and I watched his eyes flicker over the screen reading down faster than I ever could have. I watched him for a few minutes before he spoke again. "Moriarty's comments continued after my death?"
I wasn't sure if he was asking me or his brain but I answered. "I assumed they were him. I didn't answer."
"No. How could you answer an anonymous person? Especially after you stopped reading."
"How did you-"
"The history on your computer. You haven't been on the blog in ages." His eyes still raked over the screen. "I don't blame you. People can be so cruel."
"If the blog starts up again, won't people know you're back? Won't the media get wind of it?"
"We're not about to use this blog John. Really, I expected you to at least know that. New blog, new names, new alibi."
"Why are we even doing a blog then?" Not that I wasn't happy about having something to do. When you're with Sherlock you find yourself feeling a bit inadequate at times. At least I felt like I was doing something when I was writing my blog. Made me feel like more than just a skull he needed to talk to.
He looked up at me and scoffed while rolling his eyes. Apparently the answer was obvious and I was just supposed to know. I let it go. If he wanted to tell me then he would tell me.
He shut my computer and set it down in his chair standing abruptly. His fast movements caught me off guard and I found my adrenaline starting to pump. It wasn't something I had felt recently. It felt good.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Mrs. Hudson is home. You mustn't tell her I'm back. You thought I was a dream and settled into reality slowly. If she sees me alive too soon it could quite literally kill her." With that he stole my laptop and ran off to his bedroom. Mrs. Hudson could be heard making her way up the stairs to check up on me.
"Come in Mrs. Hudson!" I called to her before she could knock on the door. She walked in with a smile on her face.
"Hello John! You seem to be doing good today."
"I'm feeling good. How was your trip?"
"It was lovely." I swear I could feel Sherlock rolling his eyes from his room. He took my laptop but that by no means meant that he wanted to be cooped up in there. "Um John?"
"Yes?"
"Is there a reason you have two teas out?"
Oh crap.
"Yeah…I rather had a hankering for it actually. Just made two cups so I wouldn't have to get up." I could definitely feel Sherlock then. That was a lame excuse and even I knew it. I just hoped she'd buy it.
"Oh I understand." She gave me coy smile and backed towards the door. "Don't say another word. I'll let you be." She winked at me before shutting the door and shuffling down the stairs. At first I didn't know what to make out of it.
"Well that took long enough." Sherlock came up from behind me and sat back down in his chair. Thankfully he remembered to grab my laptop before leaving his room.
"What do you think she meant by-"
"She thinks you have a date." He was still on my computer, not looking at me.
"Really? Hmm."
"Oh don't sound so proud of yourself." Sherlock picked up my tea because it was closer and started to drink it.
Dinner came soon and I made him eat at least half of his usual while I ate mine. My hangover was gone by the time I finished and I was ready to go out and do something.
"We can't go out." Sherlock said when I asked him about it.
"How long? I mean I understand but-"
"I don't know. I can't be recognized. Though most only recognize me with that ridiculous hat on."
"And your coat."
"Yes well, as long as they don't recognize me, there shouldn't be a problem. But I'm not about to change everything about myself."
"You could dye your hair. Get it cut. That would make a difference. That and if you actually gained some weight."
"It is getting to that annoying length where it bobs in front of my eyes." He looked up at his forehead when he said it and I chuckled at him. He just glared at me in response. "As far as the weight goes, I don't want to be slowed down."
"You won't be slowed down if you put on some muscle. If anything it'll just help you." I knew he wanted to say something sarcastic for me using my doctor tone. He didn't though. He just pushed my laptop off of him and walked over to the window, staring out.
"My music."
As if I was supposed to know what he meant. "What?"
"Where is it?"
"In your room."
"Go get it."
I rolled my eyes but I got up and fetched it for him anyway. When I came out of his room he was still there. He had grabbed his violin off the table and was plucking away at it, tuning it. I handed him a pile that I found, his stand was still where it had always been. He took it, looked at it, and shoved it aside.
"Well why did I get it if you didn't want it?" He didn't answer me. He just got up, dramatically at that, and rounded the bow onto the strings. Without warning he dove into his songs, apparently memorized, and walked about the flat. I sat down and started in on the book I had been reading.
I allowed myself to close my eyes for a moment and just enjoy myself. Sherlock was walking around playing his music, I was reading my book and drinking tea, and everything was right in the world. Sherlock was alive and I wasn't numb.
Everything was wonderful until I started to nod off in my chair. This day had been hard on me. A hangover mixed in with your dead best friend coming back to life mixed in with a lazy movie day tended to take a toll.
It shouldn't have been a big deal. I should have just gone up to my bedroom and fallen asleep. Instead I went to take a shower. I needed to think and as much as I loved being around Sherlock and as much as I didn't want to leave him for a second, I really needed to talk to myself.
I had been sleeping in Sherlock's bed for five weeks. Every night I would curl up under his covers and feel safe. Any night I tried to sleep somewhere else or accidentally fell asleep in my chair or on the couch I would wake up with the night terrors. I had work the next morning and I couldn't afford to be tired when dealing with patients. I didn't want to take over Sherlock's space though. It was his after all.
It really shouldn't have been a hard thing to do. I was afraid though. I was afraid that I would go to my room, shut the door, and wake up to finding this entire day was a dream, this entire thing didn't happen, I was still drunk of my ass on the couch or something.
I thought that maybe if I took something of his to my bedroom then it would be a reminder that it actually happened. I didn't know how Sherlock would feel though. Sure he said he'd take me for all my quirks but taking his shirt up to my room might have been crossing a line.
I still hadn't made up my mind by the time the shower ended and I was ready for bed. Sherlock was on the couch when I came out, staring at the ceiling. No doubt trying to find out where I put my gun so he could find something to do. I had no idea how he was going to live without being able to leave the house.
"I'm going to bed. I guess I'll see you in the morning." I walked towards the stairs but stopped in the doorway. I had to turn back to make sure he was still there. It was habit for him not to answer me but it still got me worried when I didn't hear him.
"Just go." He flicked his hand out from under his chin at me.
"Excuse me?"
"Sleep in my bed. I don't care. I won't sleep tonight anyway." I stared at him with my mouth open for a bit. Of course he knew what I was thinking. When did he not? But wasn't it weird? Mates didn't sleep in other mate's beds. Not that I hadn't already been. He did have a point though. He probably wouldn't sleep. And even if he did, it would probably just be on the couch.
"Are you sure? I can-"
"Don't make me repeat myself. I don't want to hear you having nightmares. It distracts my thinking." Either he was showing signs of sentiment or that was true. Probably both. Either way I got to sleep through the night.
"Thanks. G'night Sherlock."
"Goodnight John."
I moved to his room and shut the door most of the way leaving it a crack open either out of habit or so I'd be able to hear him if he needed me. I wasn't really sure.
I turned on the alarm and rolled under the covers feeling the familiar sink of the memory foam. I would never get over how comfortable it was. I thought about making Sherlock sleep in my room. I wouldn't mind taking this one over. It would be odd if our clothes stayed in the rooms they were in now though. It made me laugh. And with that I fell asleep.
The next morning my alarm woke me up and jolted me away. I hit the snooze and turned over to catch a few more minutes but then I remembered who was in the next room. I sat up and turned the alarm off, rubbing my hands over my face to wake myself up.
"Interesting." I heard Sherlock's voice come from the other side of the room, scaring the shit out of me.
"Jesus. What the hell Sherlock? You're going to give me a heart attack. What were you doing?"
"I wanted to see how your sleeping pattern adjusted when sleeping in my bed."
"So you watched me sleep in my bed before? You know what, don't answer that. Breakfast?" Sherlock gave me a pout but I pushed up out of the bed and headed to the kitchen anyway. I threw some bread in the toaster and put on a pot of tea for us both.
A part of me still couldn't believe this was actually happening. He was really here. It brought an extraordinary amount of relief. Another part of me was still really mad. I understood why he did it. I really did, but I still needed time to think about it. Yesterday I just pushed down the thoughts because he was there and I didn't want him to go anywhere. I didn't want to scare him off because I was mad and it was a nice day anyway. I found it easy to not worry about how mad I was when I was listening to his music or watching a movie with him. Now that I was up though, just the two of us, the thoughts started to crash down. Mostly I was worried about trusting him again. How could I trust him not to do something this stupid again?
"John." I heard Sherlock but I didn't really want to at that moment. "John the toast has done nothing wrong." I looked down to see the butter I had been spreading had long gone as I smooshed the toast under the knife. It was more like a massacred pile of crumbs now.
"Oh." I took a bite out of the crumbly thing. It was okay.
I was slightly embarrassed. Sherlock must have known what I was thinking about. Why I even questioned if he did was stupid in itself.
"We can talk when you get home."
Did Sherlock really just say that?
I looked over at him and I could see the concern on his face. It must have been one of those rare moments where he actually showed his emotion. I swear I was the only one he would do that with. It made me melt every time.
"Yeah. Yeah we will. Well I got to get going." I didn't really but I didn't think I could stay there. I didn't know how I was so okay the day before. I think it must have been the shock. Now I could feel everything and I didn't want to deal with it right then. I just wanted to get to work, pass the day by, and get home to Sherlock again.
Work went by a little better than normal. I was a little less angry at everyone for being alive and therefore a little less cold myself.
Sarah noticed. She seemed very happy about it. She even said she would bring me out to lunch. I couldn't find a way to say no so I went.
It was a bit awkward. We both knew it wasn't a date but having dated before the atmosphere was still there. We made small talk and she avoided bringing up how I was doing for the longest time. But of course she had to ask.
"So you seem to be in a chipper mood today."
"Couldn't find a reason not to be." It wasn't untrue. Well I was anxious, she didn't mention that. I really just wanted the day to pass by so I could get home. But that didn't mean I wasn't happier. Sherlock was alive after all.
"Well I'm glad. I've missed you like this."
"Thanks."
I did too.
Not soon enough my shift ended and I made it home as quick as I could.
I figured I should probably pick up some food to bring home now that I was feeding two mouths. It was weird to go get food. All day I had been urging to get home and now that I could I was stalling. I knew it was because I knew I would have to talk to Sherlock about feelings. That was never something I would look forward to. It was like talking to a fish about air.
On the way home I felt my hand start to shake. It only did that if the PTSD was kicking in or I was getting really mad. I was trying to control my anger as best I could but the entire day I was thinking it always led back to that. I would always find a way to forgive him and then I would get angry at myself for letting it be that easy. It had been a roller coaster of a day.
Well I made my way up the stairs with groceries in hand and found him there with his violin. It seemed since he didn't have any cases to work on or anything for an experiment (other than me sleeping) this was his backup.
"Aren't you worried Mrs. Hudson will hear you?" I called out as I set my cane aside and loaded the things into the fridge. No body parts. Yet.
"You can tell her its some records or some nonsense. She wouldn't be able to tell the difference."
"What have you been doing all day?"
"Nothing exciting." He walked over to where I was, putting down the violin and standing in the doorway. "Why, do you notice anything?"
"What do you mean?" He wouldn't ask unless he did something. He looked at me with a slight smile but he really shouldn't have. There was something about Sherlock that just bugged me in that moment. It was just something else he wouldn't tell me. Wouldn't let me in on. I was so happy he was okay but I really wanted to deck him.
"Nothing. Now tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing is wrong."
"Really John why do you lie to me?"
There was no point. "Why do you lie to me?!" I didn't mean to yell that. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just-"
"You feel betrayed." It wasn't a question. I think it would have only made me madder if it was.
"Well yeah." Everything I thought about at work came flooding forward. "Your entire death was a lie Sherlock. How can I believe anything you do? Anything you say? How can I believe anything that has to do with you is not a lie? If you die again, I'm going to think it's all fake. You'll just come back around the corner six months later. Did you realize what this would do to me?" I was keeping my temper under control really well. I wasn't so much angry the more I spoke as much as sad. We had something before that was lost now. "I know. I understand you couldn't tell me. I get it. But why didn't Mycroft? I mean he's Mycroft. I really don't trust him already but this adds to it and it doesn't look good for you. Did you tell him not to tell me? How do I know? I've never felt more out of the loop on anything. I don't know what to believe at the moment. I don't know how to trust you. How can you be my friend if I don't trust you?"
Sherlock stared at me for a long moment before responding. I actually thought he wasn't going to say anything. Then a miracle happened.
"I'm sorry John. My miscalculations hurt you more than I could have ever understood. I never wanted to hurt you. Mycroft didn't tell you of his own volition and he's a bastard for doing so. I wish I could take it all back. But know this, you will know John. I will never leave you out of the loop again. If you ask me I will tell you. As tedious as it is, I will tell you everything. I don't know how you can trust me again but I hope you can try. I don't want to lose you."
I think I blinked more times in that second then I had all year. I'd never heard him speak like that. I'd never expected him too. Part of me was worried he was acting. He was good, he could fake even me. But I knew that was only because my trust in him was broken. This was too real. We were alone. There wasn't a point to him lying like this. Well there was: to be friends again. I knew that wasn't what he was doing though. No, he was telling the truth. The least I could to was tell the same.
"I don't want to lose you either. Thank you." I wanted to go over and hug him if I was being honest. But I knew he wouldn't like that. I don't think he'd know what to do with it.
Sherlock moved back to the living room without talking about what I was thinking. I was glad for it. I put away the rest of the groceries except the ones I was going to make dinner with. Chicken and veggies were on the menu. My mother's recipe. I was excited. It was celebratory.
Sherlock continued to play his violin and I continued to cook while humming along. It was very catchy.
When I finished cooking I put out two plates and brought one over to the genius sitting in his chair staring at nothing. He looked at it with a frown but took it. I smiled and sat down in my own chair and started eating away.
When I was halfway done I had to ask, "What did you mean earlier when you asked if I noticed anything different? What did you do?"
"It was an experiment."
"Yes but what was it?"
"I moved everything in the apartment two centimeters to the south. Apparently it wasn't enough to make a difference. I was going to keep testing it until you noticed."
"So why did you tell me about it? It would ruin the experiment."
"Because you asked."
Well that wasn't like him. Unless…"Did you answer just because I asked?"
"That was what I said I would do."
In the loop.
He pouted and I smiled. This could be interesting. Having a completely honest Sherlock Holmes around. Well completely honest whenever I asked a direct question. Maybe my life would be easier.
I doubted it.
The next few days went about the same. I would go off to work and come home to Sherlock doing some weird experiment that mostly involved things in the apartment or solving cases from the newspaper. That or he would be on my computer or composing some song. He would be composing without the violin though. It was sent off and still being fixed, on my card. He somehow memorized the violin so perfectly he could play it without it even being there.
I had also managed to get him to cut his hair. He looked much better after that and a couple of hot showers. He looked just like his old self. It looked like nothing had changed. Well, other than being a bit skinner but I was working on it.
I knew he was itching for a case but I wasn't about to bring it up. I knew how much he hated to ask permission to do anything. Especially Moriarty. It had to be killing him.
We would stay inside and I could get him to eat a bit. He was already starting to look better than when he first arrived. I suggested we go out at some point in the wee hours of the morning just to get him out of the house. He argued like a child but agreed to going as long as I would go with him. That meant it would have to wait until the weekend because I was scheduled for work until then.
I tried to get him to play a game with me to take his mind off of the boredom. I could tell he was itching for a cigarette. I was glad he wasn't smoking. I took that as a sign he didn't go back to the drugs either.
Well, as much as he pouted about it I did get him to play a game of rummy. That was my mistake. While I tried to play with the cards he spent the time playing with my mind. I felt like he could see through the back of my cards and knew exactly what was in my hand at all times. Seven rounds in and he had won every game.
That was the same night Mrs. Hudson decided to check on me. Sherlock jumped when we heard her and he ran off into his room. She popped in with some kind of snack on a tray and a smile on her face. She was very happy that I had been doing better this week.
"Hello John, I have cake!"
"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." She set it down on the table and went over to my fridge getting the milk out. She was poking her head around the flat as if she was looking for something.
"Who were you talking to dear?"
Oh no.
"What?"
"When I was walking up the stairs I heard you talking to someone. I'm not interrupting am I?"
"Oh no. I was just…on the phone. Talking to a friend."
"Ah of course dear. Well here you are." She had sliced me off a bit and put it on the kitchen table with milk on the side. She was such a mom. "I'm off to make myself dinner. Let me know if you need anything."
"I will. Thanks again." She waved and popped down the stairs back to her own flat. Sherlock stepped out as soon as she was gone.
"You really are the worst liar." He grumbled from behind me.
"Oh shut up. Do you want some?" I sat down in front of the cake and started to eat the slice. It was devil's food with chocolate icing. So good.
"Do you know what's in that?" I'm sure he knew every ingredient off memory. "There is a reason Mycroft is so fat. Cake is his favorite." I laughed around the bite in my mouth and looked up at Sherlock. He had started to laugh too which only made me laugh more. It was the first time he had laughed all week. The first time I had laughed like that since...well a while.
After that first night I didn't sleep in Sherlock's room again. I knew I should let him have it and I knew he was really there. He would always be there when I woke up. He wouldn't disappear overnight. I had some nightmares but a quick trip downstairs and I would see him there and I could go back to sleep.
After the first night I didn't even have to go downstairs. The violin was fixed and I could hear the music creeping up into my room. I would listen to it until I fell back asleep. It was like my own personal lullaby.
It didn't keep him from my room though. Apparently he wanted to continue his sleep study on me. I didn't mind that much. When he was in the room I didn't have a nightmare and it kept him busy anyway. More than once I woke up to him sitting on my bed and taking my pulse.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Was my reaction the first night it happened.
"Taking your pulse."
"I know that but why?" I pulled up the covers so less of me was showing. I was only in my underwear after all. They were my red pair too. They were much to snug for me to be comfortable wearing them in front of him.
"I told you I was studying your sleeping patters. Heart rate is a valid component of that study." He was giving me that look again. The look that said I should know this already and I was asking stupid questions.
"Fine whatever. Just don't wake me up again."
"Actually I didn't. According to your heart rate you-"
"Shhhhhhhhhhhhh." I fell asleep with him still sitting on my bed.
The weekend came soon enough. I was glad. Sherlock really was starting to annoy the hell out of me. I woke up to him that Saturday making some sort of pyramid of food. We really needed to get him his equipment back. Or at least buy him new equipment. I thought I should probably check my credit card statement. I half expected him to buy some new equipment on my card when I wasn't paying attention. He wouldn't use his own for fear of someone recognizing his name. I was even half hoping for it. Anything to keep him occupied. He was like a small kitten just running everywhere.
Lestrade had called me asking to go out to the pub. I said I couldn't that night and offered the next. While I was on the phone Sherlock was making it clear that he didn't want to see him yet. I didn't know why. Lestrade would find out he was back eventually and if Sherlock wanted cases he would have to talk to him. I didn't question though. Lestrade agreed to pick me up the next day and I left it at that.
That night Sherlock and I went out into the city. We waited until it was past midnight and I made Sherlock wear one of my larger jackets instead of his signature one. He was not happy about it but he put it on. It looked kind of funny on him. Not only was it a bit short but it just didn't look like him at all. It especially didn't look right over his proper black suit.
"John I look ridiculous." He was pouting in front of the bathroom mirror.
"Good now let's go." I had practically dragged him out of the apartment but he came. We walked around for a bit in the direction of a park. It wouldn't exactly be the safest place to go at this hour and that's part of why we wanted to go there. Some good old danger was just what Sherlock needed.
Every person we passed Sherlock would deduce. Granted there weren't that many out walking in the cold dead of night but the ones who were usually had more colorful backgrounds. He would wait until they were out of hearing range and whisper their dirtiest secrets in my ear. I would giggle or gasp and we would keep on walking. I hadn't felt this right in a long time. This entire week had felt right.
On the walk back things took a turn for the worse. I felt Sherlock stop and saw exactly what made him. A guy had a girl pinned up against the wall and he was screaming in her face. She was crying and it sounded like she was asking him not to hurt her and he was slapping the wall behind her head. This was not good.
The adrenaline pumped in me and I ran over to the alley we saw them in. I grabbed the guy from behind and pushed him away from her. He stumbled back and I stood in front of the girl who I could feel grabbing onto my back. She was still crying, saying something like thank you, while I stared the guy down. He yelled the ever so cliché, "This isn't over!", at her before jogging off.
"Are you alright?" I turned to face her checking her over like the doctor I was. She was crying but she nodded her head. "Would you like to tell me what happened?"
"He's my ex. He-he saw me at the bar with an-another guy and he-he"
"It's okay. I understand. Sherlock would you-" I turned around but couldn't see him anywhere. I looked down both directions of the street but I couldn't see any sign of him. "Sherlock?" Oh great now I was worried. He probably went after the other guy. And I had no way of contacting him because he didn't have a phone. It would have to wait until I went back to the flat or I would have to look for him. I couldn't do that though because I had to take care of this girl. "What's your name?"
"Casey."
"Alright Casey, I'm John. I have a friend down at the Yard. I'm going to call him and he'll take care of you okay?" She nodded and I whipped out my phone to call Lestrade .
"Hello?" A groggy voice answered the line. I clearly woke him when he was sleeping.
"Hi Greg."
"John? Are you okay? Is everything alright?" Great. Now he was worried.
"Everything is fine. I have a girl here who's been harassed by her ex-boyfriend. He was just attacking her on the street. She's fine, a little shaken."
"What were you doing out on the street at this hour?"
"Long story. Can you send a car to keep an eye on her? Her ex threatened her."
"Sure I'll send someone over. Where are you?"
"Send it to Apostrophe, the coffee shop on my street."
"Alright. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Thanks Greg." I hung up on him before he could think to ask anything else. "Ready to go?" I asked Casey and she nodded. We walked to the coffee shop and made some small talk. I made sure she would stay at her relatives and to tell the cop everything she could. She was picked up and I waved at the officer before making my way back to the apartment.
I tried to be quiet when going into the apartment but I probably slammed the door walking in and I probably stomped up the stairs a bit. Sherlock better have had a good reason for leaving me without saying anything. When I walked in I found him playing his violin. I didn't hear it coming up the stairs. Now that I did, it was annoying.
"Sherlock." He ignored me and kept playing. "Sherlock!" He was such a child. "SHERLOCK!" He turned to me put kept playing. Granted it was quieter. "Why did you run off?"
"I already told you."
"No I'm fairly sure you ran off without telling me anything."
He rolled his eyes and signed dramatically ripping his bow off the violin and making the strings screech. "Really. No one can know I'm back."
"So you'd leave a girl to get beat by her ex just so no one will know you're back?"
"That close of contact and someone could have recognized me."
"What if I wasn't able stop him myself? What if he killed her?"
"Regrettable. But it was your life or hers. I chose yours."
"I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to bed." I left for my room and slammed the door behind me. I knew what he meant. I knew why he did it. It didn't mean that it wasn't selfish.
I'd rather he helped people than do this.