#bootdork

It strikes her now that she doesn’t have her phone. She’d been holding it when she left the party, going through her contacts, hovering over Tito’s and shutting it anyway. It’s too late to retrace her steps now, she supposes. Feels a little bit like crying. Light reflects on the parts of the bench yet to be infested with rust. She takes a look around, chest heaving. 

Half a block away, she sees salvation. 

For the last few nights, Tito hasn’t slept. Closed his eyes, given it the good old college try, sure, but he has not slept. Hasn’t fallen into that blissful near-oblivion. It’s driving him insane—that stinging of the eyes, his nerves all shot. He can’t stand it, the darkness with no relief. So he begins to replay things behind his closed eyes. 

They come to him, the memories, as missed opportunities, olympic level fumbles in any conversation that he has. And then there’s Shaundi. Only ever the same night; the night she crawled into his bed, laid so close beside him. He can almost feel her warmth now. Misses it. It stirs an ache in his chest, something awful. Unbearable. Tito opens his eyes, stares at the wall in the dark as the phantom warmth fades. Wonders if maybe the sheets in his bed at Purgatory still smell like her. 

He’s not asleep when he hears the knock at his door. But he starts up in bed anyway,  reaching for his gun in the dark. He never gets visitors here. In Purgatory, sure, but never here. Never at his place. Tito walks slow to the door, holds the knob tightly and, for a beat, breathes. 

When he jerks the door open, the barrel of his gun is between her eyes. And it takes him a moment to fully register who she is in this darkness—the dinky little light outside his front door went out weeks ago. He doesn’t see the point in getting it fixed. His stomach feels like it falls from its place in his abdomen when he realizes. It’s Shaundi, harmless Shaundi swaying on her feet with a red nose and tears in her eyes. His Shaundi with tears in her eyes.

“Hey, Boss.” it comes out a rasp, like she’s using all that’s in her to make any sound at all. “Gonna let me in?”

Quickly, awkwardly, Tito puts the gun away. Steps aside to let her in and they stand before each other for a moment, then two. It dawns on him then that they’re still in the dark and he’s blocking the switch. He scrambles to flip it, mutters a Sorry in her general direction. He turns back to her and she’s stalking across the apartment, grazing everything languidly with her finger tips. Knocking a few things out of place as she goes. Tito winces, feels a chill up his spine. 

“Nice place,” she picks up a book he isn’t sure he ever read. “Clean.”

He shifts on his feet, nods because he doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been here in his space like this. It feels like an invasion, though not one he’s willing to do anything about. Instead he watches her, gun still in his hand, he realizes now. 

The words come out before he can truly commit to them in his mind, “You okay?”

Shaundi shrugs, trips over nothing and rolls her ankle something awful. Tito’s sure he hears it crack. He grimaces, all but drops the gun onto the ground and approaches her with the trepidation you would a snarling animal. She’s still, sitting on the floor, not holding her ankle, not crying out. Only has a hand on his bed as if she intends to use it as leverage to get up but she never does. Just leans against it, barely registering the pain. Kneeling before her, Tito isn’t sure what to do so he watches her. Holds her gaze as she stares back at him. Her eyes are red and glassy, distant like she hasn’t been in her own body for a while. And maybe she can read the concern all over his face because she scoffs, waves a hand. 

“I’m fine. It’s fine...” Shaundi trails off, head lolling a little to the side. “Just took too much.”

His heart nearly stops, “Too much of what?”

She shrugs again, her eyes all wide as she whispers “Everything.” dramatically. The hardness of the floor on his knees keeps him earthside, grounded. He takes a breath and reaches out, two fingers touching the skin just under her jaw so light as if she’d break under the smallest of pressure. Shaundi leans into his touch and he can feel her pulse better than anything now. Strong and too fast to mean anything good. He wants to cry, wants to rock back and forth. He holds his fingers there out of fear that if he lets go, her heart’ll stop. 

“You’re fine.”

“I know.”

“Gonna be just fine.”

“Tito, I know.” She shoves his arm away but he brings it right back, holds her face in both his hands. He’s never seen her so spooked, and he reckons that’s that the look in her eye is. Shaundi’s just as scared as he is. 

“This shit’s gonna kill you one day, Shaundi,” she rolls her eyes, tries to look away but her eyes end up back on him regardless. “You need to g-” And suddenly, her hand is over his mouth.

Shaundi keeps a tight grip but Tito doesn’t make a move to push her away, to take her hand away from his mouth. He has that warmth he so badly sought back, doesn’t have it in him to end it. She leans in, presses her forehead against his, lips to her own hand and speaks into it. A murmur into her skin for him and no one else. 

“I got you, don’t I? Keep me safe, right, Boss?”

He feels sick. Nods because he knows he’ll die trying to keep her safe. Can feel that dread in his bones, whether it holds any weight or not.