Philip's POV
I locate Ajax exactly where my instincts told me he would be.
Deep enough into the forest to feel secluded, just past the meadow where we used to escape together for privacy. He sits hunched on a weathered log, forearms resting on his thighs, gaze fixed downward.
The sweatshirt he had on before lies twisted around his biceps, apparently torn off in a moment of agitation.
He remains motionless as my footsteps approach, though I can tell he registers my presence.
"Stay away," he mutters, his voice rough with exhaustion. "I'm not ready for this conversation."
I disregard his warning completely, settling onto the fallen trunk beside him. Close enough to signal my desire for proximity, distant enough to respect his current emotional state.
The quiet stretches between us until he releases a shaky breath and pushes himself upright.
When I meet his gaze, his eyes appear swollen and bloodshot. Sleep has clearly been elusive for him.
