There was no chocolate cake this time when I started crying. Everything welled up in me and as soon as I folded my legs across one another, I began bawling, my head cradled in my hands.

"Two nights in a row, huh?" It wasn't long before he walked through the screen door, shutting it so quietly behind him that I almost wasn't sure if he shut it at all. But he did shut it sure enough and soon he was sitting across from me on the floor of the living room. "No chocolate cake?"

I shook my head and he shook his.

"Well, I'm hungry. How about some food?" His nonchalance surprised me, but I didn't have time to question because there was already a rugged hand being offered to me.

He swiftly lifted me to the countertop, like he had just the night before, without a sound. His hands didn't leave my skin for a long moment and he stood there, staring through me like he had just the night before. Breathing once heavily, his skin abadoned my skin.

"I guess Darry doesn't do much cooking anymore, does he?" He rummaged around in the refrigerator before pulling out leftover spaghetti. The spaghetti tasted good--I had it with all of the boys two nights ago.

In a trance, I watched as he traveled around the kitchen, knowing where every single piece of silverware hid. And as he prepared the food quietly, getting me to think he could do this every night and not have a soul know of his presence. And as he set the table for two, knowing I'd join him.

It wasn't too long before our bowls became empty. He finished before me, and as I was taking my last bite, I could feel those eyes of his resting on top of me.

I looked up wearily after swallowing. His facial expression didn't change at first as if he didn't realize I was now looking at him. But then his eyes connected with mine for a moment and his lips stretched into a thin smile.

The dishes were cleaned, being placed again safely in their rightful cabinets. The kitchen beared no trace of his or my presence. And I really was beginning to think he had done this late night trips into the Curtis home regularly. No one would have known anyway.

"C'mere," he whispered hoarsely like he hadn't spoken for days.

Without thought, I was closing the distance between me and him. Like he had asked me to. And as I was standing in front of him, just looking up at him, his eyes collapsed to my cheeks. "I can fix those," he said softly, running one of his thumbs beneath my eye to catch the tears. "If you would let me."