I can’t take it.It’s unbearable, yet impossible to give up.
It sends a sharp ache through my chest, one I fear will finally break me.
And I can’t let that happen, not while the Doctor is still inside me.
Chapter56
Martin
Istroke his back while still inside him, terrified that if I pull away, if I leave him empty, I’ll lose him just when it finally feels like we’re moving forward.I press my lips to his spine and hold him tighter, trying to keep him close for as long as I can.
His body is still warm, his breathing steady now, but I can feel him tense beneath my hands.He seems both distant and vulnerable.
Eventually, I ease back, knowing I can’t stay like this forever, and lie down beside him.
Jamie remains on his stomach, arms at his sides, his face turned away.I ache to see his eyes, but I’m not sure I’m ready for what I’ll find in them.
I wanted him so badly.Now I almost wish I hadn’t.
This distance, this coldness, this emptiness.I can’t tell if he regrets it, or if, now that he’s gotten what he wanted, he just doesn’t want to keep going.I don’t even know if he’s angry at me for not doing what he asked.
Fuck me.Those words echo in my head and through my whole body.It wasn’t just what he said, but the way he said it — his tone, his intent, his look.
How could he think I was capable of that?What did he want — someone to fuck him hard and then leave him alone in bed?Did he really believe I was just passing through, someone to use and then forget?
He wanted me to empty him completely and take everything, but I’m not like that.I never fucking was.How could I have been just that to him?
I wish he would turn around and tell me everything is okay and that I did nothing wrong, because I am now in total confusion and panic.
I reach for him again, my trembling fingers sliding down his arm, but he stays motionless.God, I ache to pull him into my arms, to hold him so tightly the world might fade away, to kiss him softly and whisper that we can stay here — hidden from his pain — for as long as he needs, until he is whole again.I just want him to turn around and flash one of those cocky smiles, to take the piss about something, anything, so he can be himself again.
After the longest, most painful minutes of my life, I finally get up and slip into the bathroom.I toss the condom in the bin, wash my hands, then linger a few extra seconds to give him time to absorb what just happened, to reason, to come to his senses.I don’t want to force his hand or push him into saying or doing something he isn’t ready for; that could make him run again.
I turn off the tap, dry my hands, and when I finally dare to look in the mirror, his blue eyes — heavy with sorrow — cut straight through me.
I’m terrified to turn, convinced he’ll disappear, that it’s all in my head.But then he moves closer, leaning into my shoulder, his presence both fragile and real.
His lips brush my skin — a single, delicate kiss — and hope sparks inside me, burning away the shadows.
“Can I use the bathroom?”he asks, his tone neutral.
“Sure.”I can’t help the sudden smile that breaks across my face as I turn to him.“All yours.”I start to leave, but he catches my arm.
I don’t turn around.I can’t.
His arms wrap around me from behind, holding me tight, his head resting on my shoulder.
Can you put me back together, Doctor?
His words echo through me, pounding in my head, tearing at my heart, refusing to let me rest.
We stand there in silent agony, hardly daring to breathe, hearts full of questions we can’t voice.But we are still together, and for now, that is all that matters.
“So you’re cookingin just a shirt?What’s the point?”
I turn off the stove and grab two plates.
“It’s not hygienic to cook without a shirt on.”
