Everyone's self-appointed mom.

Boyd sighed. His head was pounding, an ache that seemed to not go away. His fingers rubbed at his temples, but it did absolutely nothing aside from making his skin tingle at the faint pressure.

"Motherfucker..."

He needed a break.

With another long, wistful sigh, he stood up, crossing the small 'station', towards the door.

Just as his hand twisted the knob, swinging it open, his eyes widened.

There, on the other side, were Kenny - and you.

"Ah, sheriff. Morning." Kenny started, scratching his cheek. He looked flushed - still, a little pale. He glanced at you, just a little flit of the eyes, and you nodded your head.

"Good morning, both of you." Boyd answered, crossing his arms over his chest - but his eyes remained soft, kind. He knew that you were grieving - Tian-Chen was as much of a mother to you as she was to Kenny.

"Can I help you with something?" He asked, after a minute of silence. It seemed like Kenny wanted to say something, but didn't know how to word it.

Your hand reached for Kenny's own, giving it a gentle squeeze. He inhaled deeply, looking down at you, and you nodded your head again - seeing the slightest pinch of his brows as he tried to formulate a sentence.

Boyd felt his eye twitch. His gut clenched uncomfortably, his breathing a little shallower.

His eyes widened a fraction, and, when you looked up at him, it felt like something got lodged in his throat.

"We just came to tell you we're moving to colony house." You finally say, and lean towards Kenny's body. The deputy sighs lightly, smiling in gratitude.

Truth is, Kenny didn't know how Boyd would react to it. The sheriff was always hesitant whenever Colony House was the matter at hand, and while he trusted Donna, he didn't trust the Colony itself.

So Kenny was moving - and so were you, of course. You've shared a house with him and his family for over a year, so it's only fair you did move with him, as well.

"Colony House, huh." Boyd mumbled, eyes flitting from Kenny to you, and vice versa. Then, his eyes stopped on you. "Makes sense. Just..."

He hesitated for a second, and you could feel your face warm up with each passing second. His gaze was heated, warm... But there was something else lurking beneath it.

"Take care. Be careful."

That's it. He just needed the both of you to be careful.

God knows he wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you.

"Always."

"Yeah."

Kenny affirmed in unison with you, and you squeezed his hand again. He smiled, bumping his shoulder lightly with yours.

You looked up, eyes meeting Boyd's.

"Need anything, we're up the hill." You say, and the sheriff nods his head.

"Noted."

Boyd was not jealous.

He couldn't be.

Not like this – not... towards the one he loved like his own son. He knows Kenny is your best friend; you’ve been joined at the hip since he arrived in town with his family, taking a liking to him as if he were your younger brother.

So why in the fuck was he jealous over the both of you holding hands?

“Maybe you miss the attention.”

That’s what Khatri’s ghost – or whatever that thing staring at him is, leaning on the desk at the station. Boyd stares hard at it, and his best friend’s face smiles back at him.

“I’m losing my damn mind, is what’s happening.”

“You’re letting go of what held you back, are you not?” Khatri asked, his head angling to the side. “Release your inhibitions, or some shit. Like that catchy song.”

“Fuck off!” The sheriff exclaimed, his face burning – from shame or anger, he didn’t know.

…maybe even embarrassment.

“What am I, a grade schooler with a crush?”

Khatri snickered, a second away from disappearing. “Might as well be.”

When Boyd turned back to the desk, a myriad of colorful words already on the tip of his tongue, Khatri was gone. He sighed, rubbing his temples again, only spreading the dull ache that pounded inside his skull.

“Fuck me.”

Moving to Colony House wasn’t as bad as you thought it could be.

Although there were a lot of people now – even more after the bus arrived -, the house was so big that it fit everyone and there was still space for more, if needed.

You chose to share a room with Kenny. You were still grieving, and even the idea of leaving your best friend on his own was enough to have your brain scattering and rushing; so, for both of your well beings (and the little sleep you manage to get), you stayed as his roommate.

Victor was happy to see you in the house, and although he usually stuck to his room, he visited you and Kenny at least twice a day – in the morning, and late at night, before he went to bed.

Tonight was no different; he scurried off to his own room, after bidding you both goodnight.

Kenny smiled at his retreating form, his knees pulled up and arms wrapped around them, sock-clad feet planted on the bed. “I think he likes this.”

You smiled from your own bed, body mirroring Kenny’s. Your chin rested on top of your knees, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweatpants. “More than he lets on, yes.”

Your eyes met Kenny’s own, his warm, slightly lidded. He was tired.

“And you need to have a full night of sleep, huh?” You say, straightening up. He groans slightly, laying on his back. His arms stretch up, and his fingers rub and cover his eyes.

“Not now, please.”

“When, then?”

You see him stiffen slightly, and a sigh leaves your lips. He’s so damn stubborn – so hard headed, but still kind. Still caring. Still putting others above himself.

It worries you.

“Come on.” You say, turning off the lamp. It’s pitch black now, but you can still see the outline of his body with the little moonlight that creeps through the blinds.

With soft steps, you stop by his bedside. He peeks through his fingers, his ears flushing red – he hates when you do this, but knows it’s the only way he will be able to actually sleep through the night.

He feels like a child, trying to ward off his older sibling.

“Scooch.” You say, and he does so without complaint. He’s used to it by now, making space for your body – your arms wrapping around his shoulders, his face hiding in the crook of your neck.

If anyone saw the two of you right now, you’re sure a bunch of misunderstandings would follow; still, he’s your best friend, and you’re his. You’re both family by now, and if cuddling throughout the night got him to sleep better, you’d do it whenever it was needed.

“Thanks.” Kenny whispers, inhaling softly. His own arms wrap around your waist, and his breathing tickles your neck slightly.

A few minutes pass, and you’re holding in a yawn when his voice breaks the silence.

“How…” He whispers, fingers clutching at your sweater. “Are you holding up? With Boyd, after that night?”

You inhale sharply, the memory of Boyd’s harsh words echoing through your brain.

“It hurts a little, still.” You’re not one to lie, so the truth is bared to your best friend in its rawest form. “I felt humiliated, to be quite honest, but that’s a stupid thing, isn’t it?”

You laugh bitterly, and Kenny’s fingers slowly rub over your back.

“I knew he hasn’t… let go of Abby. Don’t know why I thought I’d have the right to try and have anything of the sort with him.”

“It’s not stupid.” Kenny replies, leaning back to stare into your eyes. “I- I knew Kristi had a fiancé, and still shot my shot. Didn’t get me nowhere, either, but-”

You snicker at that, and he furrows his brows, a look of mock offense on his cute face.

“Sorry.” You grin, and he smiles back slowly, softly. “Seems like bad romantic choices run in the family, huh?”

“Couldn’t look more like family if we tried, hmm.” His smile widens, and he turns on his back. You do the same, and the both of you stare at the ceiling.

“Maybe we’re doomed to singleness, you know?” You whisper, thinking back to the few, mediocre relationships you had in the past.

Kenny leaned slightly to the side, softly touching your head with his. “Nah. There’s still hope.”

You sigh, draping your arm over his tummy. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

Kenny’s words took root in your mind, quicker than you’d like to admit.

The deputy leaves the diner, wrapping you in a tight hug before following that new cop – Acosta, what the fuck was her actual name? – outside. She didn’t sit right with you, and seeing Kenny follow her around made you anxious.

But he’s a grown man – although your mind still sees him like a younger brother.

And then, Boyd enters the diner, and slides on the seat across from you.

You almost choke on your drink, banging a fist over your chest and willing the liquid to go back, smoothly down your throat. The sheriff quirks a brow, reaching for a napkin and handing it to you.

“You good?” He asks, and you nod your head, patting your lips dry.

“Fine.” You wheeze out, blinking rapidly. Your whole face heats up, and embarrassment quickly brews in your belly.

What a way to humiliate myself further, huh.

Still, Boyd doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, just hesitant. He stares, dark brown eyes taking in your form – your own gaze, soft, but a little uncomfortable; the way your nose twitches slightly, to the curve of your lips, down to the little scrunch on your chin.

“I need to talk to you.” He says, and you finally meet his stare head-on. He sighs, leaning forward, hands intertwined on top of the table. “About that night-”

“’s okay!” You exclaim, shrinking further into the seat as you see a few people glance your way. Your eyes flit back to Boyd’s face, and you can see a slight tick in his jaw – shit, he’s mad. “Sorry. I know- I know it was stupid of me to even hope you’d ever feel the same about me. And I let it cloud my judgement, and for that, I really am sorry.”

The sheriff sighs again, and stands up without a word. When he looks back down at you, slumped on the seat, he nods his head to the side. “Come with me.”

You don’t need to be told twice; your plate is gently placed on the counter, and you thank Bakta as you leave the diner, walking right behind Boyd.

When you finally fall into stride beside him, he glances at you – pupils slightly dilated, hands in his pockets, fiddling with the loose threads that stuck out of the worn fabric.

“Now, I want you to listen to me.” He says, brows furrowed. “No interruptions.”

That shuts you up before you even try to get a word out. Your brain stands at attention, fixed on his face – his eyes, his lips, the arch of his brows.

You nod.

“After Abby, I didn’t let myself… feel.” His eyes are set forward, always watching what goes on around – always worried. You know how it feels. “You were there, when it happened. I remember you tried to help. Always trying to help, damn.”

You gulp; that moment, although long gone, is always in the back of your mind.

All of them.

Every corpse, every frightened scream, every tombstone at the church.

They’re long, long gone. But not in your head.

“And I still don’t get why, out of everyone in this fucking place, you ended up having feelings for me, the old man who is scarred and swears way too much.”

You open your mouth, but it snaps shut as you remember what he said – listen, don’t speak. He glances down at you, as if sensing you’d try and defend him (and shit, he’s right. Almost every time, he’s fucking right).

Then, he stops – and you do as well. He turns towards you, brows still furrowed, but his eyes are softer, placed on you.

Only on you.

“At some point, I started to soften. And that made me feel weak. Not here, we can’t- can’t let that happen. So I pushed and pushed you away, and I snapped that night.” Boyd says, his body only a sliver away from yours.

Your breath hitches, brain connecting every word, every gesture of his.

“Because I was scared. Because you’re so damn stubborn, and I knew there was no way to keep you safe if you didn’t go with Jade and Victor.” He sighs, eyes looking into yours. Your face is still warm, and your fingers twitch at your side. “I needed you to be safe – because I care about you, and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

God, how you’ve longed to hear that.

Still, you wait.

His hands finally are out of his pockets, and they hold each of yours, squeezing, sighing at your warmth.

“I lied.” Boyd confesses, forehead leaning onto yours. He sighs, closing his eyes. “I care about you, more than I’d like to admit. And while I can’t say this is love – it’s only a step away from it.”

You can feel tears sting in the corners of your eyes, and a sniffle leaves your body. When you lean away, looking at Boyd, he’s looking back at you, a little sheepish – a little embarrassed, even.

You won’t even ask if he means it – he would never, ever say it if he didn’t mean it with his whole heart. That’s who he is.

“I… I don’t even have to confess, do I?” You chuckle, squeezing his hands back. He smiles softly, a small quirk of his lips, and you smile back.

“I’m willing to try. This, I mean.” He says, leaning closer. “If you’ll take me.”

You close the remaining gap, soft lips meeting his chapped ones. Your hands tug him closer, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you feel him relax. His own hands find home on your waist, thumbs caressing over the fabric of your sweater.

It doesn’t take long for someone to whistle, and you pull back slightly, flushed and with a permanent smile on your lips.

“I’ll take you, yes.” You whisper, leaving a last, soft peck on his mouth. “Everyday.”

Boyd sighs, a soft smile on his own lips. He takes one of your hands in his, squeezing it – he won’t say it (now, at least), but he quite likes how your hands fit together. “Wanna be my assistant for the day?”

“Just today?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Everyday, then?”

You hum, nodding. “Better.”

You didn’t tell him, but a few months after he arrived, after the whole incident – after Abby, and his strained relationship with Ellis -, you’d made a silent promise to yourself.

You’d stay beside him, no matter what happened.

And you never broke a promise.