“Are you okay?” Leah asked.
“I don’t know anymore, dude. This is so confusing, it’s starting to hurt. Maybe we should end it all and go back to our old selves.” Chris massaged his temples. “It was easier when we were just friends.”
“Do you really want to run away now?”
“What?” He looked at her, frowning.
“Want my opinion?”
“That’s why I texted you. I need perspective.”
“Every time things got a little annoying with one of your hookups, or when they started showing the slightest signs of infatuation, you shut them out and moved on.”
“Yeah, I’m a heartless manwhore. What’s new there?”
“No, Chris. What I’m saying is that all those times, you didn’t want to get involved with them. You were fine with temporary and one-night stands, but Marc means a lot more. I think you’re…hooked. That this conflict and pain you’re experiencing is because you’re seeing the possibility of losing him for real, and instead of accepting it, you’re pushing it all away. The bad, but also the good.”
“Wait, you think I’m in love with him?” The guitarist snorted.
“You’re the only one who can answer that question.”
Chris lowered his head and stared at his dirty Vans, analyzing her words and his own emotions for the first time in months. He wasn’t an introspective person, didn’t even want to be. For some, ignorance was a curse. For him, it was fucking bliss. But if he dug a little… Pain. Desire. Warmth. Chaos. An urge to punch the bassist in the face when he went all insufferable and threw smug bullshit at him. But mostly; balance.
Was his need to surrender to it all love?
“How did you know?”
“How did I know what? Sorry, my brain is frozen with this cold,” she said, covering herself with a blanket.
“Stop making excuses. You’re just slow.” Chris devilishly grinned at her.
Leah didn’t say anything, but she gave him the finger.
He tittered. “I was asking when and how you knew Søren was the one.”
Her mood instantly swayed, and a mushy smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Can’t tell you exactly when it happened, but one day I realized he made me feel safe.”
Safe. That word resonated with Chris. It made him soft inside as the image of Marc, laughing whole-heartedly under him after wrestling beside the buses one night that last summer, flashed in his mind.
“Since I’ve been with Søren, I don’t need to pretend to be someone else or look over my shoulder all the time,” she continued. “The constant state of alert and the fear that rattles me when the intrusive thoughts assault me aren’t there when he’s around. And even when I lose grip on reality, he knows how to bring me back. Søren’s like a lone wolf. He may be broody and a little cranky at times, but he’s protective, caring, playful, and so devoted to the ones he loves. Even in the distance, he lifts me, makes me laugh every damn day, pushes me forward no matter how crazy my dreams or ideas are… and all I want to do is offer him the same. I want to be the shelter where he can rest and be himself. I fucking die of happiness a little every time he says I’m his home.”
Safe.
Support.
Be himself.
Make him happy.
Home.
Slumping back on the couch again, Chris let out a nervous cackle, wiping his fingers under his eyes when the tears threatened to fall. He rarely ever cried, unless he was furious or too overwhelmed. For some reason his body and mind released tension like that, or throwing fists. And those words had just been like a catalyst breaking through the cracks in his soul.
Outside of the obvious people—his family and closest friends—he hadn’t been in love with anyone in his entire life. Yes, he had loved Emma back in the day, but that wasn’t anywhere near how Marc made him feel. It was as if the air smelled better, the food tasted better, the orgasms were better… Everything was so intense with this man, Chris had found himself more than once enjoying the imagery of his chest being ripped open so his heart could beat freely.
Fucking hell.
“Did reality just slap you across the face?”
