“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he agrees, and his arm moves to wrap around me, holding me to him. “This is okay, right? I can hold you?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good, good.” He squeezes me gently and then whispers, “You’re safe here, Nico. You’re safe with me. Always.”
I feel like an ass, because even though I absolutely needed to hear those words, I don’t respond. Just like how I didn’t respond to him earlier when he was pouring his heart out to me. All of those words he said—everything about him not wanting to leave me behind, not wanting to go to California without me—they all mean so much, and I can still hear his sincerity, his compassion, his vulnerability. Yet, in the moment, I just froze up, and every bit of bliss I felt from our playful flirting seeped away with the reminder that he’s leaving soon.
And now... Well, now, I’m just too confused to talk. Too confused and numb and tired.
I close my eyes and try to relax against him, letting his embrace surround me with the most gentle warmth.
But my mind won’t stop running itself in circles, racing between here and California. Incomplete thoughts batter me, beating me with reminders of how little I have.
No home.
No real job.
No money.
No family.
And when he’s gone, I’ll also have no friends.
I’m worthless. Broken. A mess.
And pretty soon, I’ll be depressingly alone.
No wonder the stairs seemed like an option for those few seconds there.
I tense up at the thought, a sick nausea making my stomach turn, and he’s there, his hand rubbing my back and his warm breath in my hair.
“Shh. Rest now. I’m here. It’s okay,” he murmurs, but those words just make me feel even less steady.
Because it’s not okay. I’m not okay. And I wish I knew how to fix myself.
I don’t say anything, but I shake my head and push back a little to look up at him. His gaze is filled with concern, and his eyes flit down to my lips briefly before he dips down and kisses me. It’s tender and sweet and warm, with a gentleness that makes me feel safe. I melt into it, glad that ugly numbness is gone so I can feel him again. He’s tentative, careful, but at the same time, there’s nothing unsure about it.
And when he breaks the kiss a moment later, chasing it with a light press of his lips against my cheek, his hand shifts to my lower back, and he tugs me closer.
He’s right to hold me like this, like he’s scared I’m going to take off. I do feel myself wanting to pull away. The strong buzz of anxiety tingles beneath my skin, along with a deep stab of irritability that I know will turn into anger all too soon. And then there’s the exhaustion, too. My body’s so tired and weak, I’m not even sure how I’m still awake. It’s late, and somehow, I’m going to have to get up in the morning and go to work. Because I can’t miss a day or be late. I can’t risk screwing this up.
But I can’t risk screwing up what he and I have together, either. He’s so important to me, just like he said I am to him. And if I don’t tell him that...
I quickly turn over to face away from him. I can’t be looking at him while I say whatever the hell is going to come out of my mouth right now. He lets me shift, but his arm stays firmly around my midsection, and his lips brush against the back of my neck.
I screw my eyes shut, my stomach churning.
“I’m fucking messed up, Alex,” I blurt out, the words escaping on a ragged breath.
“No. No, you’re not, you’re—”
“Iam. I’ve been messed up since we were kids. You know that. And what happened just now? It scared the hell out of me. My brain was screaming at me to—”
Fuck, I don’t want to talk about the stairs. Not right now.
I start over. “Idowant this—us—to be something. I want it more than anything. But I’m fucking broken as shit. I can’t even have a normal conversation about this with you right now. I lose my shit, get anxious and angry. How the fuck can we have a normal relationship when I can’t communicate? And how can I go to California with you? How would that possibly work? I’d need a job—one that will work around my inability to just fuckingbewhen there are other people around—and a place to live that doesn’t cost me my entire salary every month. I can’t see that happening.”
I don’t feel any better having said all of that, though I’ve managed to not start shaking again.
