It was dawn and the rain fell thinly on the Kavanagh's roof. The house was silent, except for the muffled sound of the wind and the constant dripping in the gutter. Joey was lying with his head on his lap, half-closed eyes, that lazy look that only appeared when he felt safe.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling how he relaxed under the touch.

"Go to sleep, Joey."

He laughed low, his voice hoarse. "I can't. If I sleep, I lose it."

That - you, the warmth of the blanket, the smell of home, the feeling that, as cruel as the world was, he had found the place where he could rest.

"You treat me as if I were someone good," he murmured, almost like a secret.

You tilted your body to kiss your forehead. "Because you are."

Joey opened one eye, skeptical, but the smile that came next was soft, rare. "If I die tomorrow, love... I swear I'll come back just so I can find you."

You laughed softly. "Don't talk like that."

"I'm not kidding." He held your face with rough hands, bringing you closer. "Not even death takes me away from you."

The kiss came slow, deep, as a promise. And for the first time in a long time, Joey Lynch seemed to believe that it was possible to stay.