The warmer that I feel, the more that I want to stay buried against Anthony's shoulder, but my day off hasn't even begun. I pull away gently, stealing away to the kitchen to begin making a nice lunch since we've slept in so late. Thinking about how my life has been this last year or so brings a fuzzy feeling into my chest. There was the move and meeting Anthony. Although meeting him originally felt like being smothered, he's become someone so incredibly important to me. I can hear the grumble of him stirring just as I finish putting the last touches on the sandwiches I've made. The nappy haired man stumbles into the kitchen with eyes full of sleep, curling his arms around my waist and hugging me tight. To think that being in his grasp was suffocating is an understatement, not because of the fact that he was much taller or much stronger than I, but because the closeness of the heat he made could radiate through me and the way it felt to bubble over with emotion was overwhelming. When I think he might soon pull away, I can feel the weight of his body leaning onto me more, his face propped against my shoulder when I hear a soft snore. What a loaf to fall asleep on me, but I can't move. 

A short while later, I can feel him stirring before he leans back, teetering over to a chair and collapsing with sandwich in hand. There's a kind of barbaric way that he eats that makes me worry for his own safety. The violent gnashing of his teeth could take away his tongue in one chomp if he missed, but he survives another meal before he washes his dish for the cabinet. 

"Where did you live before here, Anthony? You've never gone to get your things. Should we do that today?"

Anthony shrugs, a soft smile telling lies along his mouth, "I don't have things."

"Surely you lived somewhere before here?" He nods slowly, running his hand along his arm as if to scratch his shoulder, but instead hugging himself. "You should put on a sweater. I'll take you there."

To say that I ran up the stairs might be considered a lie as I more accurately flew. I didn't know whose sweater I had until I was already clamoring down the stairs while trying to put it on. After almost meeting my demise at the bottom of the stairs, I found Anthony already pulling his coveralls over his outfit, clipping his shoulder snaps and drawing his jacket over him as he smiled sheepishly. He didn't make any notion to look at me, only grabbed my hand loosely as if he were reluctant to touch me to begin with. I trailed after him, my hat pulled down over my ears as he leads me on a path through the woods. The bark along the trees is cold and hard as I place my hand against a few to steady myself for awkward steps until I'm brought to a clearing. The same clearing from before. It appears untouched since that time, the tarp still pulled over a makeshift bed, a few boxes around and a small cluster of photos under a metal sheet that has been positioned to cover the area to stay dry. When I look over the pictures that are scattered across the small piece of wood, I notice a familiar mess of black curly hair sitting atop the head of a bright face. "That's my brother and my mother beside me. We're twins, you see." The other boy seemed identical to Anthony despite the obvious difference in height. It had to be a difference between them of a few inches, but maybe that's possible in twins. As I continued to scan, I found a torn picture sporting his mother in a beautiful dress, surely from her wedding, with the same dark locks cascading down her shoulders in loose braids. 

"Anthony . . . Why didn't you bring these things with you? Why did you live here?"

The lack of response is heartbreaking, only receiving a shrug as he pulls the pictures from their place, picking up a few items and putting them in a box as he leaves the area with me trying to keep up with him. I can't help how heavily I'm panting as I chase him out of the woods. "Anthony, please stop and talk to me. I just want to know about you. Please? I promise that I won't pass any judgement on you. I haven't learned anything about you except that you're well loved and supported here, and that you are kind and wonderful. Nothing will change how I feel, Anthony."

"But it will."

The cold feeling coming from him is chillier than the air as he stalks back into the house, going upstairs as I keep trying to run him down. "Anthony, what is so terrible that you have to hide from me?"

"Dante, I'm not looking for pity or help. I just want to stay with you and I don' want to think about anythin' else. So just stop."

The glare in his eyes stops me in my tracks. He's never given me such a heartless look, but more than that, he looks empty. Dead inside like the lifeless shell of a man that has only been living to stay alive. I can't believe that I didn't realize it before that he was homeless. "Anthony, being homeless isn't something to be ashamed of. People fall on hard times. It's okay."

"I've never been homeless, Dante."

"But living in the woods isn't a home. That's homeless."

"I told you. I've never been homeless."

"Then what would you call it? Hm?"

The flames behind his eyes glimmer even from a distance as he looks down into his box, biting his lip to keep his mouth from betraying him. "Anthony, you can tell me anything."

"Shut up." With that, he disappears into our room, locking the door behind him and cutting me off.

Just when I believed that I had been so close, he stops talking. It's not like I expected him to start spilling his secrets. Rome wasn't built in a day. But I at least thought that maybe I'd be given a chance to have something. It isn't like I've tried to pry anything out of him.

---

It's been three hours since Anthony has holed himself up in our room and only as I begin to cook the tomato soup does he peek around the kitchen corner. "I'm sorry." The quiet way that his voice drifts across the room tickles across my neck and I nod as he walks over. "It's not something I like to relive. My father was an awful waste. He was a drunk and he was abusive." At this point, he's come to hug me from behind, hiding his face in my shoulder as he continues. "Through a lot of horrible circumstances, they've all passed away. I'm the only person left, Dante. You're the only part of any family that I have left." Suddenly so many things make sense. His being constantly by my side, his lack of needs and his homelessness, his worry and panic over my well being. Most importantly, I remember back to his declaration of my place reserved in his family. I was so cruel to him and the grief I feel for my outburst is just as terrible. 

"I'm so sorry . . . " I can't think of anything else to say until a thought popped into my head, "You said that you went to visit your mother once . . . "

"I was visiting her grave. Along with my brother's grave."

As if I couldn't feel worse for making him relive any haunting memories, I hear him sigh, "I miss everything and I wish I could go back." The sadness in his voice covers the kitchen as he tucks his hair behind his ear. He's no longer hiding from me as I turn to face him, brushing his hair to the side and kissing him. "I love you." The eagerness with which his mouth responded told me that this incredible man belonged to no one other than me. "You are the one person keeping me here, Dante. I truly can't lose you." 

Although he is an adult, his face is like that of a child, sad and hopeful, but still so innocent. I put down a bowl for him as I pull the baked cheese sandwiches from the oven. All I want to do is make him happy. Watching him devour the food makes me smile. After dinner, I'll drag him over to the fireplace. The heat will do us good, but I have no chance as he pulls my hand upstairs. He's posted his pictures on the wall, building something of a memorial on the far wall. When he jumps onto the bed, he lifts the blankets as an invitation that I gratefully accept. Today has been so long, it feels. As we disappear in a mass of blankets, I feel his forehead pushing into my back and it finally feels like home. It finally feels like I'm able to settle down again.