“Like a crisis line?” He winced and shook his head. “It’s not like that. I’m not going to hurt myself.” A pause. “I wouldn’t leave that for someone else to clean up.”
That sent a pain lancing through my heart, the thought that not wanting to leave a mess to clean up might be the only thing holding him back from self-harm. I deliberately steadied my voice when I replied, “I’d like to think there’s more reason for you to live than not leaving a mess. Youmeansomething to people, Hen.”
His breathing hitched and he burrowed further into me. His whole body was now pressed against mine, his face turned into my neck so deeply that I was surprised he could breathe. “I know,” he said in a low voice. “It’s just…hard. Like, intellectually I know this doesn’t devalue me at all, but my emotions are harder to convince.”
I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Fuck those emotions. They lie. You are wortheverything,” I said fiercely. “And not only to me, but to your friends and family too.”
“Eh.” He waffled his hand back and forth in front of us. “Most of my family could take me or leave me. But I get your point.”
We’d never really talked about his family before, and I made a mental note to unpack that statement at some future time. “Jamal, then? He definitely thinks you’re worth a lot.”
I felt him smile against my neck. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, he broke down my door to get at me.”
“He didn’tbreakitdown,” I protested. “He had a key!”
“Details.”
We both laughed, and for just a moment, things felt…right. I could almost feel the weight of Hen’s fear and self-loathing lifting for a second, and I seized the opportunity. “Hen?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we…ok?” When he didn’t answer immediately, I went on, “I just mean…we haven’t seen each other much. And when we talk it feels like you’ve maybe taken a step back. So I just, you know…I want to know where I stand.”
Hen pulled his face out of my neck and sat up to look at me. I couldn’t read his usually-expressive face, and I felt my whole body tighten. Was this when he’d try to let me down easy? “I…” He stopped and wet his lips. “I don’t want to break up.”
A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding rushed out of me.
“But at the same time,” he went on, and I tensed, “I don’t know how much…energy?...I have to give you right now. It’s not that I don’t want to; I just…”
I shook my head. “No, I get that. I mean, as much as Icanget it, I guess. I’m not asking you to dedicate your life to me, and I understand that you’re coping with a fucking lot right now. I just don’t want this to end things. I…”I love you, my brain supplied, and I pulled up short, my mouth snapping shut. I…what now?
“You what?” he prompted when I didn’t go on after a second.
No way was I going to put that on him at this point. I shoved the feelings down and mustered a smile. “I just want whatever you can give me.”
He looked a little suspicious, but he smiled back faintly. “I don’t know exactly how much that is, but I’ll do my best to figure it out.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I wished I knew what he was thinking; it could be anything fromWhy is he staring at metoThis is the love of my life. Suddenly I needed reassurance. Reassurance about what, exactly? Him. Us. His intentions? I mentally shrugged and plowed ahead: “Can I…can I kiss you?”
His eyes widened and he started to shake his head, then aborted the motion. His mouth tightened, only succeeding indrawing my attention to his lips. “I…” He swallowed. “I know it can’t pass through a kiss, but I still reflexively…” He shook his head. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” I countered firmly. “But if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to. I’m not here to force you to do anything. But I also promise to not shove my tongue down your throat if you do kiss me. No slobber,” I promised.
He chuckled and visibly braced himself. “Okay. Let’s do it.” He leaned forward, and after a shocked moment - I’d been sure he was going to chicken out - I matched the movement. Our lips brushed lightly once, then came back together again. Warmth surged through me. It wasn’t sexual - not this time - but it was…comforting. We clung together for a long moment before he pulled back a few inches.
“Ok?” I asked, palming his cheek.
He nodded. “Yeah. That was…scarier than it had any right to be. I’ve been kissing guys since I was 14.”
I mock-growled. “I don’t want to hear about all your conquests.”
As I’d hoped, that got a smile out of him. “Oh, yeah,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “mymany, manyconquests.”
I grinned back, then sobered. “Hen?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to put any demands on you, but…do you think we can talk more often? I really, really appreciate that you’ve been reaching out to me every day,” I hastened to add, “but we used to be texting almost constantly, and since…you know…it’s dropped off, and it makes me worry in multiple ways.” And there I went, putting demands onto him. Oops.
