Theo didn't move from where he'd been curled around his journal for the better part of three hours, until he'd managed to put into some words the confusion and sick betrayal he was feeling.
Things that he'd legitimately suppressed as a child had been stirred up from the poking around in his head. He'd never remembered his mother this way before, broken inside the way she'd alway been since he'd known her and then broken physically the way she'd been the last time he'd seen her before he'd blacked out; when he came to she had gone along with the way he remembered her.
Now was either the worst possible time - while he was trying to mend himself - or the best possible time - when there wasn't much lower he could go - for her to start coming back to his mind. Either way, seeing her had brought back other memories, ones that he'd tried to suppress without luck anyway. He didn't think he looked like his mother but his dad had other ideas.
The way the bed depressed as Greg sat down had him breaking out of his warring thoughts and he half-crawled half-dragged himself over the mattress to curl himself around Greg's waist, his face pressed in against Greg's thigh while he just held on.