Kris wakes up, panting, tears streaming down his face. Again. He wonders if those dreams will ever stop.

Feeling absolutely knackered, he forces himself to get up and get dressed. Jogging pants and a wide pullover, both somewhat dirty and disgusting since he hasn’t washed his clothes for quite some time but it doesn’t matter to him. He’s already glad enough he managed to get out of bed at all, putting on proper and clean clothes is simply too much to ask at the moment.

He shuffles into the kitchen to make himself coffee when he suddenly notices that... it already smells like coffee in the apartment. And like something to eat as well.

“Oh no...” he mutters and barely dares to enter the kitchen.

There, by the oven, stands the boy, frying some bacon in a pan. Kris remembers that bacon. He found it together with some other stuff on his doorstep a few days ago, most likely left there by his cousin and his wife or something. Kris hasn’t touched any of it.

“You!” Kris forces out and the boy looks up at him.

“Oh, hello. Good morning. Did you sleep well?” the boy smiles brightly at him and turns the bacon in the pan. It smells delicious.

“You’re still here,” Kris states, as a matter of fact and is close to breaking down on the floor, sobbing. The boy is still in the apartment.

“Of course I’m still here! I’m here to stay for a while. To help you. Remember?”

“Oh God...” Kris mutters.

“Come on, coffee’s ready. And breakfast will only take a few more minutes. Bacon and toast okay with you? Seriously, it’s time you stop eating stuff from delivery services. That stuff isn’t exactly healthy.”

Kris feels a headache coming up and he lets out an unhumorous laugh.

“And bacon and toast is healthy, or what?”

“Well, better than that stuff you always order, full of chemicals and so. Seriously, it amazes me how you humans can basically poison yourself like that. Voluntarily!”

“It tastes good...” Kris mumbles, wondering why he’s even talking to the boy. So should it turn out, the boy really is a lunatic, well it wouldn’t matter. Kris is pretty sure he’s halfway to crazy town already.

“This tastes good as well and it’s not so full of chemicals,” the boy replies in a voice that clearly tells Kris that the argument is over. “So, did you sleep well?”

“No,” he grumbles monosyllabically and the boy casts him a concerned glance before he rushes over to him.

“The nightmare again, no?” the boy asks and Kris wonders how the the boy can know about the nightmare. Does that mean the boy is only a fragment of his imagination after all? He nods anyway. The boy gets up on his toes, being quite a bit smaller than Kris and with his fingers he gently traces the tracks of tears still visible on Kris’ cheek. Kris’ breathe hitches a little and his eyes flutter close on their own accord. The boy’s hands are warm, wonderfully warm and soft and they feel nice. Really, really nice.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could take this pain away from you,” the boy murmurs softly. “I would gladly take all of it if that meant you’d stop suffering so much.”

Kris looks at the boy again and their eyes meet, locking unto each other. The boy has pretty eyes. Brown, deep brown and they hold a promise, a promise that everything will work out and get better eventually.

Kris doesn’t know how long they stand there like this; the boy’s left hand on his cheek, his right hand on his shoulder and their eyes not leaving each other. It feels like an eternity but when the boy suddenly breaks away from him, clearing his throat, it doesn’t feel nearly long enough.

“The bacon,” the boy mumbles. “It’s ready, I guess.”