Swallowing the lump that’s suddenly found a home in my too-tight throat, I wrap my arm around his back. My fingers find his hair and have just begun to resume their earlier ministrations when I finally register we’re not alone.

No, please, God, no...

“How long have you been standing there?” I barely manage.

Will must sense my sudden rigidness and makes a small noise, almost like a keening. His grip tightens. He’s barely conscious, yet some part of him knows I want to jump away. Run.

“Long enough,” a low, deep voice sounds from my open doorway.

I should have closed it.

I should have locked my bedroom door.

I should have just gone to bed like I fucking planned.

Will would have been fine. He would have been fine—

Should have, should have, should have—

My fingers tremble as they twist into Will’s hair.

Nodding through a swallow, I finally drag my eyes up to meet the dark, unfathomable gaze I’ve come to know so well these past few years.

Yet there’s more than just his ever-present frown in that deep-set gaze this time. More than that infuriatingly knowing glint to his hard eyes.

Shawn is...shocked.

And something else I can’t place. Something...softer. Almost sad.

Shawn’s never surprised. He’s never soft, or sad. Not on the outside.

And yet here he stands, filling my doorway like some indestructible god of night looking at me like he’s never seen me before.

I open my mouth, but it’s like the words are trapped in my throat.

How do I explain this?

My eyes burn at the corners and my lungs fucking ache and my stomach roils—

“Hey.” And then Shawn’s there. Crouching down next to me. Wide eyes so dark they’re nearly black search my face. His frown deepens. “Take a fucking breath.”

I do. And it hurts. Will twitches under me.

“Fuck,” I rasp.

I take another moment to will my lungs to chill the fuck out. I don’t even realize my fingers have anxiously begun to pull at Will’s hair until Shawn grips my wrist.

For a second, blind fear rips through me. I see it play out in my head like some twisted premonition—Shawn yanking me up by the wrist. Will’s head flopping to the hard floor with a thud that bounces off the walls.

I’m shoved up against the wall, and there’s a hand wrapped around my throat as a knee pummels into my stomach. The pain tears through me with the force of a thousand knives, and I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe—

“Waylon!”

Rough hands cup my cheeks. Shawn’s inches away, eyes wider than I think I’ve ever seen them.

“Count with me.”

Blinking, I absently notice the breaths stuttering out of my too dry lips.

“One,” Shawn whispers harshly. Fiercely.

“One.”

“Two.”

“T-two.”

“Three”