"Antonio? What are you doing here!" I gasped, running over to the window and unlatching it.

"I've been waiting here for an hour." He winced as his long limbs ungracefully climbed into my bedroom.

"Why didn't you just call me?" I asked incredulously.

"Phone's dead."

We were now eye level–minus the fact that he was a head taller than me. My heart stopped at the black eye that adorned his face. Seeing him hurt was always like a punch to the stomach.

"What happened?" I gasped.

"My piece of shit father is what happened." He rolled his eyes, though not at me.

"Are you okay?"

Antonio didn't reply and gave me a measly shrug. I suspected he was downplaying his pain.

"Sit down," I tenderly instructed. "I'll get you an ice pack."

"I don't need–"

"Sit."

Antonio frowned at me before sitting down on the edge of my bed. Meanwhile, I hurried downstairs and crept past Jo's sleeping figure before grabbing an ice pack from the freezer. After arriving back to my bedroom in record time, I sat next to Antonio on my bed. He made a move to grab the ice pack out of my hand, but was surprised when I gently iced the area for him. Without waiting for me to ask, Antonio slowly began to explain his arrival.

"I've been living at Benny's place for a few weeks now. I tried moving back home tonight, but of course," he gestured to the bruise around his eye. "I'd go back to Benny's, but he's already done more than enough for me. I just need a place to crash for the night, and you're the only other person I trust, so–"

"You can stay here," I interrupted.

His dark eyes roamed over my face, as if to ensure I was truly alright with his presence.

"Thank you, Flower," he hoarsely said. I paused. There was an emotion behind his eyes, and I couldn't detect what it was. I softly blushed at the intensity of his gaze and placed my focus back on the task at hand: icing Antonio's black eye.

"Cold," he muttered with a wince.

I nodded. "Ice usually is."

We shared a look before bursting into a fit of giggles. Though, soft footsteps from behind the closed door made me freeze and place a hand over his mouth.

"Rose?" It was Jo—a clearly drowsy Jo. "Who are you talking to?"

I glanced at Antonio with wide eyes, who cluelessly stared back at me.

"Um, no one," I nervously squeaked.

"But I heard you laughing just now."

"I was just... talking to myself," I concluded.

We waited for her response in baited breath.

"Go to sleep, you have school tomorrow," she eventually replied, too tired to argue.

My shoulders sagged in relief. "Okay, g'night."

I heard Jo retreating towards her bedroom. I removed my hand from Antonio's mouth and breathlessly laughed at the close call. Though, my laugh was soon replaced with a yawn.

"We should probably get some shut eye," I tiredly scratched at my hair. "You can't risk staying on the couch, because Jo might see you. How about you take my bed, and I sleep on the floor?"

Without waiting for a response, I grabbed a pillow to place it on the ground. However, I was quickly stopped by Antonio.

"Flower, I'm not letting you sleep on the floor of your own room," he asserted, snatching the pillow out of my hands.

"Well I'm not letting you," I crossed my arms. "You're injured."

"Not really."

"Yes, really."

We engaged in a petty stare off.

Antonio sighed, though his eyes betrayed him. "You're not letting up, are you?"

"Nope."

"Good, me neither."

"Good."

We were silent for a few more minutes, until finally, Antonio gave up.

"Look, that bed is big enough for the both of us."

"But there's only one bed," I stared up at him in confusion. "Unless... are you suggesting we sleep together?"

"You make it sound like–"

"Do not finish that sentence," I warned.

He poorly held back a smirk. "Alright, fine. We'll stay on opposite ends of the bed." At my reluctant look, he said, "I promise I won't touch you."

I hesitantly nodded after a moment. "Alright, but no funny business. I mean it."

He lazily raised his arms in compliance. I glared at him before grudgingly crawling into my bed. To my alarm, Antonio took off his shirt. My cheeks flamed at the sight of his chiseled abdomen.

"What are you doing?" I inquired.

"Undressing?" He looked confused.

"I can see that," I gaped. "But why?"

"You expect me to fall asleep with clothes on?"

"You expect me to let you crawl into my bed butt-naked?"

"I never said naked!"

"That's what you implied."

"The boxers stay on."

"What about the pants?"

"No."

"Antonio!"

"Fine, I'll keep them on just for you. Happy?"

"Very," I sarcastically smiled.

At the end of our banter, I gestured for him to get into the bed. Once he did, I placed some pillows between us to enforce our no-touching rule.

"Really?" Antonio questioned my antics. "I wouldn't touch you unless you wanted me to."

The sentence surprised me. "I know," I softly muttered.

I wasn't lying. I trusted Antonio to keep his hands to himself. Frankly, I trusted him a lot. So much, to the point that I realized I was ready to tell him about my parents. The fact that he had come to me seeking a place to reside–our bond was strengthening in ways I'd never expected it to.

And so, I opened my mouth to reveal the gruesome details of my past, but I wasn't given the chance.

"Goodnight," Antonio huskily murmured before shifting onto his side.

I stared at his bare back with a small frown. "Good night."

I looked away. Perhaps my stories would have to wait. Besides, it was best we got some sleep. With that, I flickered off my bedside lamp and allowed my head to hit the soft pillow. Despite the darkness and silence, my thoughts prevented me from falling asleep. An hour passed of me lying on my back and staring into the darkness. When I could no longer take it, I decided to quietly whisper.

"Antonio?"

His reply was instant. "Yes?"

I hadn't expected him to actually be awake. I reached over to flicker on my lamp so we could see each other.

"Why are you awake?" I asked in bafflement.

"Why are you?" he countered.

"I hate it when you answer my question with a question."

He slyly chuckled. "I can't sleep."

"Me neither." Not when you're next to me.

I toyed with the corner of my pillow. Having Antonio next to me made me realize that I truly wanted him to know about my past. I wouldn't admit it aloud, but I trusted him.

"Something on your mind?" Antonio asked.

I took a deep breath.

"I want to tell you about my parents," I softly admitted.

I could see the way his chest stilled. He was shocked for a moment, and then, with a slight incline of his head, I was given the go. I told Antonio everything about my parents, from the father I'd never met, to the mother who'd killed herself in front of me. I couldn't tell how much time had passed by the time I was finally done. He allowed me to finish with no interruptions, though at the end, he lowly spoke.

"There's something else you're not telling me."

"What?"

He was right. I'd told him everything. Everything except–

"You feel guilty," Antonio realized.

I froze. How could he possibly know that? I'd never told anyone that before–not even Jo.

"Flower..."

I looked away from his stare.

"If I hadn't just stood there," I shakily spoke. "If I'd gotten help on time, my mom would be–"

"Don't," he demanded. "Don't blame yourself. Your mother's death is not your fault."

I swallowed a thick lump in my throat, looking away. However, Antonio wasn't about to let it go. He discarded the pillow barrier and held onto my hand.

"I mean it, Flower," he insisted. "You were just a child. And even then, you tried getting help. It's not your fault you were ignored."

I recalled the stranger who'd driven by me while I'd pleaded for help. I wondered if he'd have stopped if he knew the reason behind my cries. What if he had called for an ambulance? Maybe then, my mom would have been saved...

No. I had to stop thinking about the maybes and what-ifs. There was nothing I could do to change the past, and I had to accept that. It was something I was finally coming to terms with.

I didn't realize I was crying until Antonio's hands were tenderly wiping away my tears.

"You're so brave, Flower. Don't let anyone tell you different. Not even yourself."

Pillow barrier be damned. I shifted over to hug him, and the smallest of smiles surfaced my lips.

"Thank you, Antonio."

"No. Thank you."

"What for?" I asked.

"For trusting me." He stroked my hair as I leaned against his his chest, and I subconsciously closed my eyes.

Although we'd promised to stay on opposite sides of the bed, it was like there was a magnet pulling us together. The heat of his body warmed me like a flame, and I could feel my heart skip a beat. How much longer could I deny the attraction between us?

Minutes passed of me listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

"Antonio," I whispered for the last time that night. "I like you too."

A soft snore resounded from his throat. He was asleep. I breathlessly chuckled and closed my eyes, drifting off into a cozy sleep in his secure arms.

That morning when I woke up, Antonio was already gone.

• • •