An hour passed and when Xavier heard someone laughing in the hall, he blinked, then realized he’d been sitting in the same position, with the coffee in his hand, silent and immobile, ever since Billy had shut the door.
Was he going to keep running from himself? And for how long?
Without another thought, he rose and raked up all the loose change there was left on the night table. He grabbed his bag. His wallet. Stepped out into the hall.
At the end of it, August froze by his open door. “Hey…how—how are you?”
“I suppose I should thank you,” Xavier said, in an even voice. “For showing me the truth about who I really am.”
“You mean human. Not perfect?” August took a few steps forward in Xavier’s direction. He wore plain blue jeans and a gray sweater. No eyeliner. No fancy shoes. He was pa
