Hand in Hand

"Fia, you know I make the best grilled cheese." Seth was saying as I flipped the grilled cheese on the stove. I didn't look up as I responded. I set down the spatula.

"I'll have you know that my dad makes the best grilled cheese." I rested my hip against the counter and looked over at my roommate. His tousled brown hair fell loosely in his eyes, like he never did anything for it, but he did. He just likes it that way. His ice-blue eyes peeked out through his hair as he watched my face.

"He usually makes these, huh?" He asks. I peel my gaze from his eyes and look down. I was supposed to be sad about my dad's death. Is it wrong that I really wasn't?

"He did, yeah." I turn back to the grilled cheese on the stove and flip it out onto a plate.

"Sorry." The awkwardness between us was new. "About your dad, I mean. I still make the best grilled cheese." I looked up at him, unable to keep the smile off my face.

He opened his arms, an invitation for a hug. That's new too. I hug him anyway, as a normal grieving person would do.

When I went to pull away, his arms went rigid. I started to panic.

"Why do you lie, Fia?" He murmured into my hair, his joking demeanor suddenly gone.

"W-what are you talking about?" I struggle to keep my voice even. The smell of his hoodie, the one I usually enjoy smelling, is becoming incredibly overwhelming.

"You're not really sad." He says, twirling my hair in his fingers. "You didn't cry at the funeral, you haven't cried in the privacy of the dark, or in bed. You're doing a full 180 from what some other people normally would do." I'm struggling to breathe.

"Now tell me Fia," He continues, "What actually happened to dear-old-dad?" He pulls away and I have to catch myself on the counter. I look up at him with a swimming gaze.

He leans against the counter with a smirk on his face. Does he know what he did to me?

"What are you talking about?" I managed to get out, my usual subtle "english" accent, making an appearance like it usually does when I'm stressed.

"I'm pretty certain you know." He says, picking up a plate and crossing the room to the tiny table. I watch him as he takes a bite of the grilled cheese.

"Mine are still better." He says with a mouthful of food. I swallow hard and sit across from him in the only other chair.

"How did you know?" I asked, resting my arms on the table in front of me. He stares at me with an icy look.

"Would you believe me if I said it was an educated guess?" He asks, brushing the crumbs off of his hands. He sighs when I shake my head. Before he continues he looks at the hanging light above us.

I follow his gaze to the dusty chain that it hangs from. My fingers fidget with anticipation, or nerves. I can't be sure.

"Seth?" I say, my voice is sticky with stress, and made even more noticeable with my accent. I clear my throat. Seth looks at me, a dreamy quality in his eyes.

"You did it." He says, almost a whisper. "That's why you're not sad." I swallow again. That's all it takes for him to widen his eyes. Shit he knows.

"Why?" He whispers, his voice cracks. I sit still, afraid that I could give too much away. 

"Um." I swallow again. "I can't tell you because I don't feel like going to jail." I murmur. He looks at me with a quizzical expression. I sigh and put my head in my hands.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better I won't say anything to anyone, okay?" He says, putting a hand on my arm. I sigh.

"Fine." I sit up straight and look him in the eye. I'm afraid that I'm going to cry.

"I was tired of him controlling my life after I'd moved out, you know how he was." I said, and I continued to tell him that I had always hated him for being manipulative and in the background of everything I did. When I got to the part of coming up with the idea of his murder and actually following through with it; I began to worry that he would actually tell someone. My hands began to shake so I clasped them together under the table.

"I mean, you have a valid point or reason or whatever, but I'm still confused." Sean said, shaking his head. I couldn't meet his gaze.

"Why didn't you ask me for help?" He said, my eyes shot up. Ask him? For help? "I could've done way more than kill him without him feeling any pain, love."

My eyes widened and I stood up so fast that the chair fell over.

"Excuse me?" I said, "What?" I couldn't express how surprised I was. I was way more than surprised. Is there a word to express the shock of his words?

He stood up and crossed the room so fast that I was against the wall in seconds. His eyes bore down into mine and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to catch my breath again.

"Seth." I said, my voice wavering.

"Fia," He said calmly, "Let me tell you something." I held my breath, waiting for his anger to grow.

"I've 'gotten rid' of plenty of people, and never been caught." He took a tiny step back, "I'll help you stay hidden and unseen by the police and the investigators." My eyes were wide open.

"What are you saying?" I asked tentatively.

"Let me keep you safe." He said, his voice getting lower. "I can keep you hidden." I swallowed hard.

"Okay." I said, barely a whisper. He kissed my forehead and stepped away. I slumped against the wall.

"Now let me teach you how to make the best grilled cheese." He said, turning the propane on under the stove. I followed him blindly, dazed after what just happened.