Sweet Like Candy (MANxMAN)

12 - Sister Killing Bastard

Chapter Twelve

Tobias's POV

It was a thing now, definitely a thing.

I didn't know how or why it developed, but it did. And it was definitely a thing. I glanced at the clock, right about now—

The apartment door whooshed open, then closed a second later. From my spot in the kitchen, I watched Antoine untie his apron and hang it on the door, stretching his arms and rolling his neck. His hands were red, almost blistered, from the endless scrubbing and cleaning he did for the candy shop downstairs. He never had to do it, and even Cherie and her mom told him not to work so hard, but he still did. He washed, waxed and counted until the shop would've gotten a 110% sanitation rating every single day.

I mentioned he should be careful overdoing it, but I never told him to stop. It was how he got out his demons, how he pushed himself. He poured his entire being into the candy shop, and there wasn't a second he would've given up. Hell, since he's stayed here, I'd upped my runs to twice a day and five extra miles.

Tired steps sauntered to the kitchen, and Antoine threw himself onto the barstool, too exhausted to be uncomfortable around me.

Bending down, I opened the over door, feeling hot air scald my face as I pulled out the pizza. It sizzled as I laid it down on the stove, tossing away the mitts and closing the oven.

Antoine grunted in a sound that I'd accustomed to hunger. I snorted. Gone was the nervous nelly.

I grabbed two Coke's, tossing one at him without looking. I heard a pained whine, turning around to watch the Coke slam into his chest, then roll down innocently into his lap. Antoine glared at me and rubbed the spot. He laid his arms down on the counter, tucking his head between them.

Whoops.

Cutting the sausage pizza, I neatly stacked pieces onto two plates. After handing it to Antoine, I laid back against the counter, taking a bite. Yup, this was damn good.

This was the thing. Sitting here—always at opposite ends, never sitting near one another—eating. Occasionally looking at one another, but mostly just scarfing down food and trying to keep our eyes open.

We had a three day streak going on; ever since I killed the guy who tailed me and buried him. I would get back first, occasionally covered with blood, occasionally with groceries. And then Antoine would come in at six-thirty on the dot, too tired to move. He never questioned the blood, the pacing I did at night, the hours spent locked away with the computer, and the questionable trips I had to run at night.

He'd just stuff his face, send me a lazy smile, then flop onto the couch and wake up at promptly four AM. He never used an alarm clock either, so it was beyond me how he knew when to wake up.

"That's the fifth hole in that shirt," I pointed out, gesturing at the tattered old graphic T-Shirt I'd given him. Since he'd gotten it, it now had two bleach marks, three blots of ink and a caramel stain near the collar.

Antoine rolled his eyes downwards, doing a quick scan of the shirt. He raised them back up to me. Even worn-out, his eyes still glowed. Innocent. Intelligent.

"What about the other ones I gave you?" I'd given him multiple shirts, yet he ritualistically wore that one.

He said nothing, just shrugged with one shoulder. I finished off my last piece of pizza, licking my fingers clean of sauce. Maybe I added a bit more relish than usual, pulling my finger out with a pop. Antoine's gaze was blown wide out of my peripheral, shrinking away when I turned back to him.

"I need to run out in a few minutes. You can come and we'll stop by the mall or something."

Curiosity had Antoine sitting up, probably because I never mentioned where I went to. I just said how long I was gonna be gone for and left.