I didn't remember him having one before. It relieved a bit of my anxiety to know that at least he'd taken some steps to protect himself. But it also meant he was living in fear, and the thought of Rowan being scared in his own home made me sick.
The door creaked open slowly, and when Rowan's face appeared, I could see the flicker of startle in his eyes. His hair was tousled, and he didn't have his glasses on. But what struck me most was how exhausted he looked.
"What are you doing here...?" he said quietly, his voice hoarse.
I thought for a second about how to answer without overwhelming him. "I said I'd give you space. I didn't say I was leaving."
He paused, then opened the door a little wider and stepped aside to let me in. I could tell he wasn't entirely surehow to feel about me being there, but at least he didn't turn me away.
I followed him into the flat and immediately picked up on how heavy it felt to be in here. The space itself hadn't changed, but the air felt thick. Like the walls had soaked up all of the trauma and now it was bleeding back out.
We stood there for a while, neither of us saying anything. I didn't want to push him. I'd already done that once, and it backfired. This time, I just wanted to be there for him.
"How are you holding up?" I asked softly.
He shrugged, and his eyes dropped to the floor. "You know... Been better."
I could see how much he was hurting. How hard he was trying to hold it all together. I wanted to reach out and pull him into a hug, but I didn't dare. Not until I knew what kind of headspace he was in.
Instead, I set my bag on the floor and leaned lightly against the edge of the sofa. "Sorry for just showing up. But I had to see you. I had to make sure you were okay."
His shoulders tensed, and for a moment, I thought he was going to tell me to leave again. But then his face crumpled, and he let out a shaky breath as his hands tugged at the hem of his hoodie.
When he finally spoke, his words came out as barely more than a broken whisper. "I'm not okay."
Before I knew what I was doing, I closed the space between us and pulled him into my arms. I was careful not to hurt him, but I held him close. Immediately, I felt him shake with the effort of holding back the sobs that threatened to break free.
He didn't push me away, though. He let me be the support he clearly needed. And for the first time in a while, I felt like I was doing something right.
"I've got you, Ro," I whispered, my voice low as I gentlyrested my chin on his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."
His hands gripped the back of my jacket as the dam finally broke. A choked sob tore out of him, raw and desperate, and then another followed. He buried his face into my chest and clung to me like he couldn't even hold himself up. I just let him cry.
After a few minutes, he gasped out, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”
“Hey, no.” I tightened my arms around him just enough to keep him grounded. “Don’t do that. You’ve been through hell. I get it.”
He shook his head against me as another shaky breath broke in his throat. "No, I mean when you tried to... You were right about him. I should've listened to you."
That one got under my skin.
"Rowan..." I pulled back a little, careful not to move too fast. His eyes were red, glassy, still swimming with tears. I brought my hands up to gently hold his face and waited until he met my gaze. When he did, something in me caved. I leaned in and rested my forehead against his.
His breath hitched, and he froze, eyes locked on mine. I couldn't tell if it was panic or something else, but he made no move to pull back.
I’d already said this at the hospital, but I needed to make sure he heard it this time.Reallyheard it. "None of this is your fault. You're not responsible for what someone else does to you."
He stayed quiet, though I felt his hands clench faintly at my sides.
"He weaselled his way into your head. I only saw it because I wasn't in it like you were. Doesn't mean you were weak. And it sure doesn't mean you deserved it."
For a while, he just stared at me. His eyes searched mine, but something in his expression changed. His fingerstwitched, and I caught a hint of hesitation as he leaned in just a tiny bit.
My gaze dropped to his lips before I forced it back up. A part of me wanted to close that distance – just once, to show him. But I knew acting on it now would be a mistake. He wasn't ready. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't cross that line when he was still finding his footing.
Then he blinked, and whatever had been building inside him cracked. He let out a broken sound and folded back into me, his breath stuttering against my shoulder in uneven bursts. His fingers dug into the fabric of my jacket again to anchor himself to something solid.
He stayed like that for a long time, but I didn’t rush him. I just let my hand trace a slow path along his back, steady and constant. More than anything right now, he needed a safe space to fall apart, so I let him have it.
