Follow the River

Alarm slides its way into my very soul when he lifts those blue-green eyes to meet mine.

I can’t read them.

“Riv,” I say as gently as possible, almost as if I’m talking to a skittish animal rather than the man who has become the most important person to me in the world, even in this short amount of time.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes a slow step towards the door, his eyes still locked on mine.

And because I know him as well I know myself, I know he’s about to make a break for it.

As I predicted, River jumps over the canvas on the ground and makes a dash for the door, flying through it at a neck breaking speed. "Riv, wait!" I shout. I’m right behind him, out the door in a flash, but the fucker is faster than I am. He makes a beeline for the bathroom and slams the door shut just as I reach it. I try for the handle but to no avail, he’s already locked himself inside with the artwork I treasure the most.

Himself.