but it’s not working.
“Jesus—I’m fuckin’ losin’ it.”
His chest's rising too fast, eyes darting.
He’s drowning and doesn’t want me to see it.
“Andrew—hey?—”
“Nah. You don’t get it—” he cuts me off, the panic creeping up his neck. “Idon’tlose my shit like this.” He shifts in the chair, rubbing his hand across his chest. “But I can’t fuckin’ shut it off.”
He’s falling apart, and it's splitting me in half.
He once said he’s the wall everyone leans on.
Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to be for him.
Maybe that’s why I’ve spent years building my walls so high and strong.
Not to keep him out,
but to give him a safe place to fall into.
“C’mere,” I say, reaching for his hand,
dragging him closer,
steering him until my knee slips between his.
He watches me guide his hand lower,lower.
Until it’s resting between my thighs,
making him go still.
My eyes flutter shut
long enough to remember
I’m not immune to his touch.
His fingers barely move, afraid.
The words scrape out of me?—
“Something steady.”
If he’s going to fall apart,
I want him falling into me. Not the floor.
His eyes meet mine,
wild and worn and wired.
Then the stormdropsas he pulls me closer with both hands.
One on the outside of my thigh—anchoring.
