“Thanks,” he said at the invite in, pure reflex; in his head the sentiment was more thank fuck he’s here, thank fuck he actually opened the door. Theo hadn’t let himself consider why he was as worried as he was, but his head swam with relief just from that.

He also tried not to scrutinise Cash for too long from the doorway, so he filtered through that first glance of him as he brushed past. He’d been at home for some time already, probably, dressed like that; he was a little unkempt (which, er, might have looked good if it wasn’t a sign of his mood); he smelled of cigarette smoke. He hadn’t told Theo anything, hadn’t been in contact, but he was here, and he had let him in.

“So,” Theo started, loitering a couple paces past him in the hallway, unsure where they could go. He had only been at Cash’s house once or twice before, didn’t know his way around; he didn’t know where Adrienne was, or the baby (Perseus, the newspaper had said), or who else might be here.

Mostly Theo wanted to hug him. He felt like if he started with that, though, he wouldn’t do anything else all night – wouldn’t be able to talk, or even to let go. He just looked at Cash instead, slightly pleading.

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