Eddie managed to get outside on the patio before he had to collapse against the wall. His legs were shaking, so he let himself slide down, until his knees were bent up and he could lean one arm on the floor beside him and one hand propped against his head in support. He stared at the imbuia wood his mother had ordered specially for the decking because she’d liked the darkness of it.

He was mildly surprised to hear footsteps come out next to him, and slide the patio door closed. He looked up and saw Em, looking down at him with his hands in pockets, face inscrutable.

“Oh god, you heard too.” Eddie realised and went back to staring at the wood.

He heard rather than felt Em get down to sit next to him, not touching but close enough. “Yeah.”

Eddie couldn’t stop staring at the grain of the wood, the lines emulating the flow of water, slightly bleached by the sun. The wood under his left hand felt smooth, no splinters there.

Then something happened which created a pocket of stillness in the storm inside his head. He felt a hand cover his own, fingers softly sliding into the spaces between his. He glanced at it, and saw Em’s hand, with its wide shovel-shaped fingernails, resting there. His hand, independent of his brain, lifted and turned so that the hands entwined. He stared at the combination.

“Good lord, I’m holding hands with someone. A boy.” Eddie said like it was the lightest, most sweetly amusing thing.

Then he started to cry.

He put his other hand over his mouth, but the tears didn’t stop. His eyes were shut so tight it hurt, but the crying went on. His body shook silently, and his free hand pushed against the skin of his face hard enough to crush his lips against his teeth painfully.

And Em didn’t let go. He didn’t move an inch, he didn’t say anything.

So Eddie escaped.