You grabbed a few cookies on the way after leaving the restaurant, and you happily ate them, trying to gain back some weight since you knew you had lost practically everything after your accident. Being fed with just nutrients sure hadn’t helped. You knew you wanted to lose weight, prior to the accident, but still, there was a limit to being light…

“Want one?” you asked Kevin, offering him a cookie.

He shook his head. “No thanks.”

“Uh? Why? How do you muster the strength to refuse the almighty chocolate cookie?”

“It’s easy. I tell myself it isn’t something I need to survive. Being something useless to me, I avoid it.”

“You got some weird logic going on there, dude.”

“Yeah, but you got some weirder logic. Why don’t you call me by my name? I have one, you know. Well, two, but hey.”

“Because I don’t know you enough to call you casually by your name. It’d be weird just calling you ‘Kevin’ every two seconds.”

“But you did, earlier…”

“And you got sad when I said your name, so I’m not doing it again.”

You felt him tense up a little as you walked back to Old Montreal to keep on walking around. He shrugged, trying to look normal.

“Ah, that. I got my reasons.”

“Mind to tell me what they are?”

“Well, I just… I’m not used to hear my name being said by you.”

“Which is why I call you ‘dude’…?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You used to give me a nickname. But it’s okay. Nobody calls me using that nickname anyway.”

“What was the nickname?”

He chuckled, smiling a bit sadly.

“Not telling you. I’ll wait until you remember by yourself. It won’t mean anything otherwise.”

“You mean, I called you ‘honey’ or ‘dear’ or something?”

“Far from that. As I said, if you remember, it’ll be okay. But before that, it won’t. Because it’s a special nickname. Or, well, it just happened that nobody called me that before you. And even after, nobody called me that. Only you did. So it’s special.”

You frowned. “That’s the same as my ‘more than a teddy bear’ thing. My you didn’t understand my explanations from earlier…”

“Nah, it’s not the same.”

“It is.”

“Isn’t!”

“Is!”

“Isn’t!”

You kept on being stubborn until you had to climb up a few stairs. You hadn’t fully recovered your general motor capabilities, so when you tripped on your on feet, you couldn’t help but let out a squeal of panic, knowing there was no way you would be able to cushion your fall on time. You prepared for the impact that you probably make your right cheek explode and make the rest of your face go back to the octopus state…

You only felt a warm but strong grip pull you back, and you landed in someone’s comforting – and comfortable – arms. You stayed motionless for a few seconds. You knew who that was. Only he was close enough to save you like this.

“Kevin…?”

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, back-hugging you tight.

“Yeah… but you’re hugging me too tightly…”

He quickly released you, making sure you wouldn’t fall again though, and he blushed.

“Sorry…”

You grabbed his hands before he could completely let go of you, and you observed his long, delicate fingers. He had such beautiful hands. They could’ve been even more beautiful without the dozens of wounds and scars on them, though…

“Why are your hands so full of wounds?” you asked him softly, feeling like you already knew the answer though.

“Because I work a lot,” he said in a low voice.

“What kind of work do you have?”

“I wash the dishes at a restaurant, ship heavy pieces of machinery from a shop, sell stuff at a convenience store…”

“Don’t you have time for yourself?”

“I actually have too much time for myself… I only have about fifteen hours of work per week for each of these jobs, so I’m trying to get another one…”

You turned in his arms, frowning and pouting, looking at him in the eyes.

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself,” you sighed. “You may just be my ex-boyfriend, you’re still a human being with physical limits. Working forty-five hours a week isn’t something normal in this province.”

“But I don’t get enough money…”

You grabbed your iPod and quickly calculated something. So, if he were on minimal wage, he was probably paid 12$ per hour or so. Without what was going to the government and all, it was probably a bit less than 10$ per hour that he could bring back home. He was working 45 hours a week. So, he was doing approximately 1800$ per month. Calculating everything he needed to pay for in a month, including his apartment, food, phone, electricity to have his apartment lit, OPUS card, stuff like that, what was left was about 600$. 600$ that were quickly gone, considering the fact that in winter he had to pay more to keep his apartment warm, and that new clothes were probably useful too, and that school was pretty expensive…

“Actually, every month I have about 200$ left for myself to use like I want to use them…” he interrupted your thoughts, looking at your iPod. “I put half of it into canned food for the times when I’ll have more financial problems, and half of it into future repairs for my apartment…”

“Future repairs?” you asked, putting your iPod away.

“It’s one of those apartments in poor quarters… the basic furniture that came with it isn’t the best quality… the oven keeps dying… the cupboards aren’t exactly very safe against, well, moisture and eventual mushrooms… it’s not disgusting enough for the government to do anything about it, but it’s not very comfortable, so… if I want to live without worrying about it everyday, it’s better if I try fixing a few things myself.”

You hit him on his shoulder, sighing.

“Why don’t you change apartment then?”

“It’d be super expensive… my apartment costs about half the usual price of an apartment in Montreal per month…”

“But all those repairs, it’ll be even more expensive, won’t it?”

“Not when they’ll be finished… after that, it’ll be all right.”

“But when is ‘after that’?”

“Soon, I hope. Well, it depends, though, because the microwave oven died the other day. This is mine, so of course I have to pay for another one now, and well, a good chunk of my saved budget went there…”

“…”

“Which is why I need another job, you see?”

“No, I don’t see. All I can see is an idiot who’s going to kill himself because he works too much.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“What about school?”

“Well I don’t have too many classes per week usually. So I can still work. I didn’t receive my schedule for this session, but…”

You stayed silent, but let go of his hands and started walking again, climbing up the stairs, careful. Kevin followed you.

“Plus, there’s something I need to save money for…” he added as you were walking towards more stairs.

“If it’s for a birthday present for me, please keep your money.”

He giggled a little, shaking his head. “No, don’t worry, it’s not for that.”

“What is it for, then?”

“Oh, just something I really want to save for.”

Sounded suspicious. But oh well. You didn’t push the matter any further. He probably wouldn’t tell you anyway…