bamboo doesn't grow in dark spaces. [80K Words / Complete]

chapter twenty-five.

Case scoffed, hanging his head low to hide the roll of his eyes. Of course, he'd been right. Not that it mattered.

"I'd hate to come back and find you've hurt yourself doing something stupid."

Case smiled through his clenched jaw. "Yeah, you're right. Stupid of me to even suggest it," he gritted out with forced pleasantry. He twisted the stalk down to the core, his grip on the apple so hard he could feel the fruit going mushy below the skin.

"Trust me. I'm just looking out for you." Sir nodded solemnly, unable to keep a hint of joy from creeping into his smirk.

The stem snapped loose. Apple juice stickied Case's fingers.

Sir lifted his boot, nudging the icebox lid closed with a heavy thud. "Like I said: proper use, and that should keep cool for over a week."

"Yessir," Case replied, deadpan, waiting until Sir turned to leave before he let his expression sour with a sneer. A beat went by as he watched Sir walk away. "So, is this goodbye, see you in ten days?"

"Thereabouts." Sir took the handrail, revealing a sweat patch blooming under his arm.

"Wait."

Sir paused, heaving a sigh as if he'd been expecting Case to argue or beg him to stay. He stared down at Case from the stairwell, raising a well, I'm waiting brow.

Without a word, Case reached back into the icebox, trading his bruised apple for something else. By the time he was walking up to meet Sir halfway up the stairs, Sir was drumming his fingers on the rail with feigned, waning patience. "Here," he said flatly, handing over the jar of peanut butter.

Confusion furrowed Sir's brow as he took the jar, turning it over in his hand for examination.

"I'm anaphylactic." Case watched Sir's reaction, noting how it took less than a second for the muscles in his face and neck to tighten with anger. "I wouldn't want to get confused, or make a mistake, and accidentally eat something that could kill me."

Sir was still staring at the peanut butter jar, silent, as if his brain was whirring through the last few months, trying to find any other oversights he could have made. For all the talk he gave about trial-and-error, he'd sure overlooked a major safety hazard. Taking advantage of Sir's prolonged silence, Case turned on his heel headed back downstairs, hiding a spiteful grin.

"Hold on. I asked if you had allergies."

"I thought you'd meant medicine," Case replied, the lie coming easily. Afterall, Sir had asked him that when he stitching up Case's busted lip. "Sorry. Miscommunication. An easy mistake."

He picked up his discarded copy of The Baby-Sitters Club, settling back on the bed as if he were about to resume his reading. He lowered the book, staring over the pages at Sir, still on the stairs, still reeling and paralyzed between confusion and anger. Suddenly, Case's insides twisted into a knot of nerves. Unconsciously, he brushed his fingers across his upper-lip; he'd never found out if Sir had left a scar.

Does it matter? the voice whispered with a soft chuckle. He's covered you in so many marks and bruises. What's a few scars you'll never see?

Case swallowed, his face going hot. His mind was beginning to wonder, but despite the voice he wasn't thinking about the damage Sir had caused. He was thinking about all the soft, gentle, warm ways Sir could handle his body. And how he was about to go through over a week of total isolation. Loneliness loomed over him, scaring him more than Sir's anger could anymore.

"Hey," Case said, his voice crackly and wavering like radio static. He cleared his throat, trying to summon the same confident indifference he'd had only a moment ago. "There isn't anything you want from me, is there? Since you'll be gone so long . . ."

There was a drawn out pause before Sir replied. Finally, Sir's deep-dark tone broke the silence, like thunder rumbling through the night. "No. No, I think I have all I need here." He tapped the peanut butter jar against the rail, once, twice, three times. "Maybe some time apart will do you some good. Help you realize how clingy you're getting." He turned to leave, for real this time. "I'll see you in ten days, Casey."

The basement door gave a faint, metal whine as it opened. Then a soft thud-click as it closed.

Case gripped the pages of his book, scanning the same lines over and over, the words becoming blurred and meaningless.

"See you in ten days."