“I think I need closure, with my family.”
“Ah.” Michael gathered Jag’s hand up in his own and pressed it to his lips, wanting to make Jag feel better.
“But I can’t face them. Even knowing they can’t take me back to that place…” Jag shuddered so violently that the tremor ran through Michael’s hand and lips. “I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t think about them without remembering the therapy. They are so entwined in my mind right now that they might as well have been the ones who put me through it rather than just the people who took me there.”
“I can understand that,” Michael said. His chest ached for Jag and what he’d been through. If it were him, he’d never want to go near his parents again.
“But they raised me, and I know they love me, even if they can’t accept who I am. And I…” He sucked in a breath. “I feel as if I owe them something, even if it’s just a goodbye.”
Michael wasn’t sure he understood that part. If he were in Jag’s shoes, he’d want nothing more than to pretend his parents didn’t exist. But he didn’t have to understand. He just had to respect and support Jag.
“Whatever you need to do, I’ll help you,” he said. “If you want to call them, I’ll hold you while you speak to them. If you want to go and visit them, I’ll come with you.”
“I’m not sure turning up with my partner would go down well.”
Michael smiled. It was nice to hear himself referred to as Jag’s partner. It made the way he felt feel official. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But it’s about what you need, not what will make them feel more comfortable. Besides, I’m not sure I could stand the thought of you going to see them alone.”
“I can’t bear the thought of going to see them at all.” Jag’s body became rigid as he croaked the words out.
“How about an email?” Michael asked. “Or a letter if you want to go old school. You’d be able to get down what you want to say without any interruptions, and then it would be entirely up to you if, and when, you wanted to read their response. There would be a lot less pressure.” He stayed quiet, allowing Jag to consider his suggestion.
“That… sounds like a good idea,” Jag said hesitantly.
“Just writing it might give you the closure you need,” Michael said.
“Maybe.”
Michael propped himself up so he could kiss Jag’s forehead. “Think about it,” he said softly. “You don’t have to make any decisions now.”
“I know.”
“You will heal,” Michael told him. “It’ll take time, but you will put yourself back together again.”
“I think I actually believe that now,” Jag replied. He snuggled against Michael, burying himself under Michael’s arm.
Michael rested his chin on Jag’s head, holding him tightly. “You are strong,” Michael reminded him. “And brave, even if you don’t always feel it, and I love you. Thank you for breaking your rules for me.” His heart swelled for the young man in his arms. He was proud of who Jag was becoming, proud to be his partner.
“Thank you for making space for me in your heart alongside Edward,” Jag whispered.
Michael’s chest quivered as he sucked in a breath. It was true. He hadn’t had to shove Edward aside in order to make room for Jag. His love for them coexisted side by side, and it felt wonderful.
“I love you, too,” Jag said, his voice so earnest it damn near melted Michael’s heart.
27Jag
Jag sat at the bar, staring at Michael’s laptop screen, as an exercise class took place. Michael had brought the practise poles through from the changing room, allowing for a class of six. Every class Jag had seen over the past few days had been full of enthusiastic—and by the end red-faced—people. At that moment, Michael was getting the class to stretch out and cool down after an energetic class. It had almost been exhausting to watch. Not that Jag was giving the class his full attention. He was trying to compose an email to his parents. The same email he’d been trying to write for about a week. In between difficult sentences, he was also doing some research.
Shifting his mindset to permanence rather than flight was proving to be difficult, but he was starting to get there. He switched windows, away from the college courses he’d been looking at, back to the partially written email. Saying goodbye was hard. He’d written and deleted dozens of angry paragraphs. Whilst they’d felt good to write in the moment, he didn’t want to send hatred and vitriol to his parents.
His stomach churned as he typed a few sentences and then read them back, wondering if he should keep them, edit them, or delete them. It was hard to remind himself that he was only writing a letter to his parents. It wasn’t an essay or a novel. It didn’t need to be eloquent. It just needed to be honest but not vicious. Easy. Except it really wasn’t, because he was so fucking angry with them. They’d broken him, and as much as he could tell himself they’d believed they’d been doing the right thing, it didn’t take away the horror of the ‘therapy’ they’d knowingly subjected him to. But by running away, he must have put them through hell. He’d vanished, and they hadn’t known whether he was alive or dead. He’d probably already punished them—even though that hadn’t been his intention—so he didn’t want to send them a spiteful email. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of all the things he would have said on the phone to them if his voice hadn’t completely failed him.
I want you to know I’m safe and happy.
It was a start. Better than the last thirty or so opening sentences but not great, not perfect.
He looked over to Michael again. Even in a tracksuit, he looked hot. The people in the class hadn’t failed to notice how gorgeous he was. They stared at him with gooey eyes, lapping up every word he said. As though Michael was aware of Jag staring, he glanced over, smiling. The lighting snagged on his golden hair, making it shine. Hewasbeautiful, but he was also strong, caring, and supportive, and Jag couldn’t imagine finding anyone he loved more. He no longer needed to analysewhyhe found Michael attractive; he just did. That was definitely a victory over Dr Miller’s ‘therapy’. But he couldn’t sit and stare at Michael all afternoon. Well, hecould, but it wouldn’t get this damned email written. Begrudgingly, he returned his attention to the laptop screen.
I love you both, but I can’t come home or see you.
