"Hey, it's Riley," Riley hears Henry's voice through the phone, too soft as if coaxing, "..he says he won't make to come over today, do you want to talk to him?"
For some reason Riley can tell instantly that it must be Skye, and anticipation crashes into him like a sudden wave.
He hadn't been expecting this call, hadn't been expecting Henry to hand over the phone to the boy, yet now every part of him is filled with the sudden desperate want to hear the little boy's voice again.
And did the boy really want to talk to him?
That thought is enough to make Riley's breath stumble. Did he remember him? Did Skye actually hold on to that tiny encounter they'd shared, that small fragile thread of care Riley had shown?
"Hello," the small voice comes through the phone. It is way too small, too weak, rough at the edges like it had been worn down from crying.
Riley can't help it... his lips curve into a smile, though the sound pierces him.
"Hey, buddy," the words leave his mouth before he can stop them, instinctive, soft, almost trembling with affection.
But instantly a sob comes from the other side, freezing him where he lies.
His chest tightens. "Are you crying?" he asks quickly, voice rushing out before he can think. "What... what happened? Did someone provoke my sunshine?" The name slips from him like it belongs, warm and protective, and it only deepens the ache when the small voice responds.
"Yes."
Just that single word. Just that tiny answer.
For a moment Riley doesn't know what to say. He stares at the ceiling, breath caught, torn between what he told himself before... that he doesn't want to involve himself in the mess of that house, and what he feels now, raw and undeniable.
Why does he feel so connected to this kid he barely knows? Why does every fragile word out of Skye's mouth feel like it's carving into his chest?
And the fact that Skye remembers him, remembers him after he left, makes Riley feel something almost overwhelming.
"I'll deal with anyone who dares bother you..." he begins, his voice steadying with a kind of promise, but before he can even finish, the small voice cuts through.
"Are you... coming?"
The question freezes him.
Riley stares into the dark of his room, the silence between them thick. He doesn't want to lie to him.
But he also knows he cannot say yes. So instead he shifts, searching for escape, and changes the subject. Glancing at the time... 9 p.m.
he clears his throat.
"Have you eaten?" he asks, trying to sound light.
The answer doesn't come immediately, and Riley can tell even in the silence that maybe the boy feels disappointed, maybe even hurt, at him avoiding the question. It lingers, stretching, until at last the small voice comes again.
"No."
The single word makes Riley jolt upright as his voice rises before he can stop it.
"Why? You haven't eaten until now?!" Concern pours into every syllable. He can't believe it... can't even wrap his head around the idea that from morning until now Skye has gone without food.
But the boy doesn't explain. Doesn't say anything more. Instead the small voice repeats the same question, fragile and insistent, the same thread pulling at him.
"Are you coming?"
And this time Riley can't help but lie.
"Yeah," he says softly, carefully, "but not now... tomo... tomorrow. For now you gotta eat and go to bed, yeah?" His voice is coaxing, trying to give the boy something to hold on to.
"Yes," the answer comes instantly this time, and it is way too lively compared to before, filled with sudden brightness that wasn't there when the call began.
And then, without Riley even realizing, the call ends.
He lies back on the bed, phone still in his hand, staring at the ceiling. Warmth fills him, curling deep in his chest, and he doesn't know where it comes from. He doesn't even know what to call it, only that it feels like something unnamed.
If Skye wants him to come back.. it only means one thing. That little care he gave him, that little concern he showed, must have been the first Skye ever received from anyone else. Maybe it was the first time he felt safe with someone. Maybe the first time someone's voice felt like shelter.
And it is a pity. A small boy yearning for something so simple, something as basic as warmth from anyone willing to give it. The thought burns Riley's chest.
A knock comes at his door, startling him out of his spiraling thoughts. His mother's voice floats from behind the door, gentle but insistent.
"Honey, it's dinner time, come on."
But Riley doesn't go to open the door. He doesn't move. "I'm fine," he says instead, though his stomach twists with hunger.
He is hungry, but the thought of sitting at that table with them, of hearing their laughter while knowing their judgment lingers behind their eyes, makes him freeze with resentment.
The idea of them smiling at him while secretly tearing apart the smallest things he does fills him with a sour taste.
And he also feels like he isn't ready to face his brother. Not ready to sit across from him after being called that word, that searing word... fag. The insult still burns in his chest, thick with anger.
"Should I bring your food up here for you?" his mother insists softly, voice almost hesitant.
"No, mom, I'm fine," he replies, voice tight. He hears her linger a little longer outside his door before her footsteps finally retreat down the hall.
Silence settles again. He lies there, staring at nothing, his thoughts restless. His phone jolts him from it again, vibrating against his chest. He looks down... it's Henry again.
Without thinking, he picks it up this time.
Henry speaks instantly, no hesitation in his tone.
"Teach me how to do that?" His voice is calm, low, but there's a trace of amusement laced beneath it.
Riley blinks, confusion creasing his brow. "To do what?"
"I can't believe he actually agreed to eat and went to bed," Henry says, sounding almost stunned. "It's like a miracle just happened. What did you do to my son?"
Riley freezes, stunned himself. "Had he refused to eat and go to bed?" he asks, incredulous.
"You won't believe this," Henry replies, voice heavier now, "but he has been crying all day. Since you left. Won't move, won't do anything. He wants Riley. So are you going to tell me what you did to my son, or are you willing to go to jail for the rest of your life?"
The words almost make Riley laugh. "Seems like I'm just going to let you accuse me falsely, because there's no getting out of it," he says.
A chuckle comes through the phone, Henry's voice dropping softer, deep, and it sends a chill running down Riley's spine. Just like the first time he'd heard that voice, his heart races wildly, as though his body is reacting before his mind can.
For a moment neither of them says anything. Silence hangs between them, thick and charged, and Riley can't quite figure out what they're both waiting for. It's all awkward. The realization makes him flinch. "Good night," he blurts suddenly, desperate to break it.
Ready to end the call.
But Henry's voice cuts in before he can.
"No, wait," Henry says quickly. There's hesitation in his voice this time. "Uh... my son seems to really likes you, and I was wondering if maybe... you would want to accept a job here. I mean, just... being with him. We can discuss the salary. Your word. You can't say no."
The words hang in the air, sinking into him. His lips part but no sound comes out.