Page 22 of True North
“We should pack it in for the night,” he said, and started gathering the cards. “Bedtime. For me, at least.”
“Bed,” Misha said. “Sleep?”
JT smiled at him, pleased and impressed that he’d picked that out. “Yeah. Time for bed.”
“Because I win,” Misha said slyly, which JT decided not to dignify with a response.
He went upstairs to brush his teeth and change into his pajamas, sleepy and satisfied with how the day had gone. He needed to find some more ways to keep Misha occupied—maybe he could order some books in Russian? He would ask Misha about that in the morning. But overall, he thought Misha was settling in well. He had thought it might be annoying or distracting to have someone in the house all the time, but so far, he was happy to have the company. It had been nice to play cards tonight. Nice to not come home to an empty house. He liked living on the lake, but the house had been sort of an impulse purchase and there were times he regretted how far he lived from town, away from his friends and family.
He was setting out his clothes for the next morning when he heard Misha coming up the stairs and down the hall. He walked out of his closet to see what Misha needed, anticipating anything from more toothpaste to guidance on how to adjust the downstairs thermostat.
Misha stopped abruptly in the doorway when he caught sight of JT. His shoulders hunched, and his gaze darted to the side.
“What is it?” JT prompted. He was happy to take care of whatever it was Misha needed, but he couldn’t read Misha’s mind.
Misha looked at the bed and then back at JT’s face. He widened his eyes.
“I don’t understand,” JT said, but then, in a flash, hedid, or least he thought he did. Misha was asking to sleep with him again.
Sleep with him. Christ, that sounded like a euphemism. Share the bed? That wasn’t much better. Co-sleep, like Misha was JT’s baby.
There was no good way to think of it. Any way you sliced it, it was very fucking weird.
Misha widened his eyes even further. He looked absolutely pitiful, like an abandoned baby deer. “Sleep here?” he said, and then actually pushed his lower lip out a little, pouting adorably and deliberately. He had to know exactly what he was doing.
JT didn’t appreciate being manipulated, but unfortunately, it was very effective. He heaved a sigh. “Fine. You can sleep here.”
Misha beamed, dropping his pathetic act immediately now that he’d gotten what he wanted. He bounced over to the bed and plopped down on the mattress. JT watched in disbelief as Misha fluffed up the pillow and arranged the blankets the way he wanted. He showed no signs of uncertainty. He was making himself at home and seemed fully prepared to spend all night blissfully snoozing in JT’s bed.
“Absolutely shameless,” JT muttered to himself. If Misha heard or understood, he gave no indication.
JT was a moron. Why had he given in? Why hadn’t he told Misha to fuck off? He cursed himself silently as he finished setting out his clothes and all the rest of his bedtime routine—plugging in his phone, turning on the bedside lamp, turning off the overhead lights, checking the security system. When there was nothing left to do, and he couldn’t think of any other way to delay the inevitable, he gave up and got into bed.
Misha had already snuggled down into his blanket nest and looked halfway to sleep, his eyelids heavy. A wave of irrational annoyance rolled through JT’s body. Misha had spent most of the day asleep; what right did he have to be so tired? But as soon as the thought entered his mind, it left again. Misha wasn’t slacking off or avoiding his responsibilities. He didn’t have any responsibilities. If he needed to sleep, he needed to sleep. There wasn’t anything else he should be doing instead.
Ideally, he would sleep somewhere other than JT’s bed, though.
But that wasn’t a battle JT was willing to fight right before going to sleep, and he had a feeling Misha would just play dumb anyway. JT was tired. Sleep was as crucial to his athletic performance as training and nutrition were; he would have a shitty workout tomorrow if he didn’t get his eight hours.
“All right,” he said. “So we’re doing this.” Misha didn’t react other than to yawn. After watching him for another few seconds, JT finally turned off the lamp.
He thought he might lie awake for a while, just due to how intensely strange the entire situation was, but instead he felt the heavy limpness of sleep come over him almost at once.
Eleven
Life with JT, Misha reflected as he dug into the omelet JT had just slid onto his plate, was pretty good.
It wasn’t perfect. JT had loud nightmares nearly every night, and he was a clean freak who disapproved of Misha leaving so much as a single dirty plate on the counter beside the sink. But aside from that, Misha had very little cause for complaint.
In the week he had been staying at JT’s house, he had been able to eat as much as he wanted whenever he wanted to, and the same with sleep. He had slept fine in the woods; not many creatures were willing to bother a bear, and rocks and twigs were no issue when one had a thick pelt. But in his first few days with JT, he had experienced a crushing exhaustion that reminded him of the way he had felt when he first arrived in Toronto, a fatigue that was more spiritual than physical, as if his sudden change in circumstances had drained him of all energy. He woke up with JT every morning because JT’s clattering around in the bathroom was impossible to sleep through, and because he wanted to eat whatever JT made for breakfast. But as soon as JT left the house, Misha went back upstairs to bed and slept until his stomach woke him for lunch. He usually took a nap in the afternoon, too, cozy in the den with the trees swaying outside. He slept so much that he felt glazed with it, or encased, like an ammonite in rock. It was so good to finally have a safe place to rest.
“You want fruit?” JT asked, leaving a pause between each word to give Misha time to process. He was learning not to speak so quickly.
Misha nodded. He always wanted fruit.
JT returned to the kitchen island to bring over a bowl of freshly rinsed raspberries, still spangled with water droplets. Misha could have eaten the whole thing by himself with no trouble, but he was trying to show some restraint. He only spooned out half.
JT took his seat across the table from Misha with his own omelet. He tapped at his phone and spoke quickly enough that Misha didn’t bother trying to understand and instead waited for the phone to translate. “Are you ready to start with your tutor today?”