TW: mentions of emotional abuse, homophobia, transphobia. None of it is on page just referenced.
Spot was woken up by the sound of someone scrambling in his bedroom window.
He tensed in his barely aware state and very slowly opened his eyes to see Race standing nervously in his room in an oversized Hufflepuff sweatshirt and plaid PJ bottoms.
The first time Racetrack Higgins had climbed through his bedroom window was about a month ago, just after Spot had moved into his new foster home.
Race had been expecting his best friend Jack, and to be fair, the room had been Jacks until approximately half an hour before.
When Medda has brought Spot into her home, Jack had no issues moving into Crutchie’s room when she pointed out she only had three.
Crutchie was living with Medda and Jack to avoid having to move to California to his only remaining family.
In theory, Crutchie should’ve moved into Jack’s room. Since it’d been his for years and Crutch had been there a month.
But Jack was too excited about rooming with his still secret boyfriend and having a foster brother that he didn’t really care for logic and was already moving his stuff before Spot could object.
So he’d started unpacking only to be jump-scared by Race climbing in the window.
After they’d gotten over their confusion and introductions they’d talked for hours.
Spot had found out Race lived next door, and could easily hop the roof from outside his bedroom to outside Jacks… or now Spots, and that he often came over to escape his fathers transphobic and homophobic outbursts.
Spot quickly got used to Race, and all of his friends at school. Being absorbed into their group was as easy as breathing, and finding out his new foster family were a lesbian and a disaster bisexual made him feel like he could get used to having a home there. That he wouldn’t have to worry about being booted out the door in a month.
The month had passed so quickly, and he’d grown used to Race’s frequent visits.
But now it was two in the morning and Spot blinked at Race’s blurry figure and frowned. “Race?”
Race shifted from foot to foot “I’m sorry, Spot. It’s just. My parents have been arguing so loud for hours, and I can’t sleep.”
Spot didn’t have to imagine what that was like. “Come here.”
Race approached the bed and sat down on the end of it timidly as Spot flipped on the light beside his bed.
He could see in the light now that Race had been crying. He frowned more. “What do you need?”
It wasn’t the first time one of them had asked the other that question. A month was plenty a time to experience bad mental health days between an anxious trans gay boy in an emotionally abusive home and a depressed gay orphan with c-ptsd.
They knew not to ask if the other was okay. Because they already knew the answer was no.
“I don’t know.” Race said. “I need to not be alone.”
Spot hesitated “do you need me to… hold you?”
Race chewed his lip and looked at him with a strangely vulnerable look. “You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to.” He responded. “I’m offering.”
There was a moment of silence before his voice came out in a quiet crack “please.”
Spot nodded and switched the light off again, lying down, illuminated in the dim light of the moon outside his window. “Come here.” He said again, tone as soft as it had ever been.
Race crawled into his arms and tucked his head underneath his chin.
Spots arms closed around him.
“Sleep, Race. You’re not ever gonna be alone. I promise.”
There was a moment of stillness, where Race considered this promise.
“I think… I believe you.”
I think I love you. Spot thought, but didn’t say, as Race started to snore softly, like a kitten. He’ll leave that confession for another day.
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