Chapter 4: Room 22

Noah put the form back in the tray exactly the way he found it.

He took the cool-room key.

He put the mince in the cool room.

Then he went back to the kitchen and washed the frying pan.

"You were ages," Damian said.

"Couldn't find the key."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

Damian looked at him for a second too long.

Noah dried the pan and hung it back on its hook.

He helped Damian up the stairs, one step at a time, with Damian's arm over his shoulders.

Damian made jokes the whole way up.

Noah didn't laugh at any of them.

In the afternoon Damian slept.

Noah sat at his desk and stared at the same paragraph of his thesis for three hours.

Personal.

He thought about every night in that room since February.

The way Damian always got changed fast, with his back to him.

The way Damian went quiet when Noah came in.

The way Damian had started staying out later and later all through spring.

Noah had thought he was just busy.

He wasn't busy.

He couldn't stand sharing a room with Noah.

And he'd been too polite to say it to his face.

At nine Noah made them both toasted sandwiches.

Damian tried to talk.

Noah gave him short answers until he stopped.

At ten Damian turned his light off.

Noah waited until his breathing went slow.