“Fought two Endbringers. Dealt with the Slaughterhouse Nine. Um. Shopping trip with a girl I met in the hospital, an ex-Fallen, a dude that’s dating Vista, who might have you beat for looking good in armor—”

“Heresy.”

“—and a very troubled little girl who should not have been there. Then, you know, ran into the Undersiders and Skitter force-fed me spiders and centipedes at the bank…”

He pulled back from the hug so our faces were close together, and then he kissed me.

“You don’t have spider breath.”

“Oh, that’s good,” I told him.

“I was going to invite you to watch TV shows or a movie with me, but now I feel like I should take you to a therapy session.”

“TV show or movie sounds perfect,” I told him.

We stepped into the expansive, two-story penthouse apartment, and together, made our way to the couch. He seemed like he was going to take a seat at one end of the couch, expecting me to sit next to him, but I laid down, and he took my cue, lying down with his front to my back.

“The remote’s on the coffee table,” he said.

I reached for it, and found it too far. I willed for the Fragile—

No, not here.

I took hold of his arm and pulled it around my body, like I was pulling a blanket tight, my back pressed hard against him, to get as close to him as I could.

I’d rather stay put than move to get the remote. I was pretty sure the television wouldn’t be coherent, either.

“Where are your parents?” I asked.

“Having dinner with my father’s vice president.”

I twisted around, squirming a bit until I was facing him, him pressed between me and the back of the couch.

“You really are beautiful,” he said. He extricated an arm and used it to fix my hair, adjusting strands. “I miss you when you’re not around, you know. The world makes more sense when you’re in the room.”

“That’s a lie. The world doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe it just feels like it’s a kind of nonsense I can handle.”

“I’ve been trying to handle things for so long I think I’ve lost all objectivity.”

“Loneliness and a world you can’t make sense of, for what sounds like a long time. Did you get caught in a time warp?”

“Four and a half years passed just like that. Crazy time warp.”

“Do you think you could take off this sweater?” he asked. He touched the shoulder-less black sweater I was wearing, with wool that was a half-inch thick.

“Slippery slope there, Dean Stansfield.”

“We don’t have to do that. I just… want to touch more of you. Be closer to you.”

“That’s what that is, you dolt.”

“Not like you’re talking about.”