As I watch, trying to process what could possibly have happened in the five minutes I was gone, he stumbles an anxious step back from me. And his voice…he hadn’t even sounded like himself, just some broken, halfway-there echo.
“I’m not angry, Tris. I promise.” It doesn’t matter that I have no idea what he’s talking about. How could I not say it when it’s obvious that he’s about to crumble to pieces? “Whathappened?”
Before he can answer, a sudden, high-pitched, drawn-out beeping draws my eyes down to the kitchen table. To my laptop, where it’s lying with the top half visibly askew from the keyboard, lights and screen flashing on and off sporadically—
“Shit—” My breath comes out in a hard rush, and I lunge forward to grab it as, for one sickening, freefalling second, I forget that everything’s backed up. That it’s just the computer that’s fucked and not my whole damn dissertation—
The sound sputters, then dies. The flashing lights blink out, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Tris edging further back. Away from me.
“I broke your laptop.” He chokes out the unnecessary words in a whisper into the echoing silence, and my gaze snaps back up to his miserable face.
“But Jesse, I swear to god it was an accident. I was just trying to clean up the table. I’ll pay to have it fixed and I’ll buy you a new one if it’s too bad to save. Whatever kind you want. A better one than this one—”
His voice is desperate, pleading. An obvious attempt at appeasement, and his distress shatters any momentary concern about the state of my computer.
“Tristan, stop.”
With a loud clunk, I deposit the broken device back on the table. I don’t give a damn about my carelessness, except that the sudden sound makes Tris jump.
He stares at me, mouth partway open, pupils blown wide with fear as he takes another quick step back from me, flinching so hard when I reach for him that he bumps into the wall beside the table.
And fucking Christ, now Iamangry. Not just angry. I’mlivid.
Just not at Tris.
No, it’s that fucking bastard Josh and anyone else in Tris’s life who ever hurt him. I fuckinghateanyone who’s ever done anything to make him feel like this. Anyone who’s made him so afraid of having made a mistake. Anyone who’s ever made him look at them like this. The way he’s looking at me now.
“Tris,” I reach for him, slowly, eyes locked on his, trying to let him see that I only want to show him he’s safe. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not upset.”
My voice shakes, belying my words. It doesn’t matter though. I mean what I’m saying. At least, I mean that I’m not upset with him. “And you’re not buying me a damn thing. It’s just life—” My throat constricts, and I swear I can literally feel my blood boiling as my mind races, trying to grasp onto the right words.
“But your work—” His eyes drift over to the computer again, but my gaze doesn’t break away from him. Now that the way this is impacting him has sunk in fully, it’s only Tris I care about.
That damn laptop could burst into fucking flames right now for all I care.
“All on the cloud. And even if it wasn’t, I still wouldn’t blame you. Not for a single minute.” And fucking Christ, I mean every last word I’m saying.
“You’re not upset?” The pleading, disbelieving look he gives me sends a hard, sharp pang through my heart as I take a careful step closer. Thank god that this time, he doesn’t flinch away from me at least.
“No.” I shake my head for emphasis, and he mirrors me, a lost looking gesture as unsure as I’d meant for mine to convey my sincerity.
It’s the uncertainty in that movement that breaks me. Ihaveto hold him.
“Can I touch you, Tris? Please?”
He nods, a small, jerky movement, but it’s enough, and before I can remind myself to move slowly, not to startle him, I’m closing the space between us, reaching out to wrap my arms around his waist so I can tug him close. For a moment, he goes rigid again, then he sinks forward, letting his weight settle against my body.
Jesus, he’s literally shaking.
I have to squeeze my eyes tight, fighting back tears, as I press my face to his warm, soft, sweet-smelling hair. My hands run up his back, down his sides, and up again to cup his face so my thumbs can stroke over his cheeks. “Tris, it’s alright. It’s all alright.”
He shakes his head against my hands, huffing out a laugh that’s quite possibly the saddest sound I’ve ever heard. “Do you know how fucked up it is that you’re the one trying to make me feel better when I’m the one—"
“It’s not fucked up,” I cut him off, forcing myself not to tighten my grip around him. God, all I want to do is hold him close enough that he’ll realize how much I mean what I’m saying.
“What’s fucked up is anything that anyone’s ever done to make you afraid like this. I told you I’d never hurt you. I meant it. Even if I were angry. Even if it everisyou that I’m angry with. I willneverhurt you, Tris. Never. When you looked at me like you thought I might—”
At my words, his muscles go taut again, like he’s going to pull away. I should let him. I know I should, and yet all I can do is hold him closer.
