The kiss ends when LB pulls back like he was electrocuted. My fingers trace my lips as we stare at each other in shock. LB is the first to snap out of it. “I’m so sorry. I should have asked first.” He’s staring at the ground, chewing on his lip.
Slowly, I reach out and tilt his face until he’s looking at me. Shame has burned all the excitement out of his eyes. My hindbrain is in full control when I lean in and place another kiss on his lips. This one is gentler, not as sloppy. I pull back, not enough to fully separate us, but enough for him to see the seriousness on my face.
“It was perfect, and you never have to ask to touch me. You would never touch me in a way that would hurt. If, for some reason, your touch was making me uncomfortable, I know I could tell you and you would stop immediately. I’m safe with you, and I hope that you feel safe with me as well.” Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, I wink and say, “Consider this my blanket permission to kiss me whenever you like.”
The tension leaves his body, and he leans back in, smiling against my lips. “And what if I never stop kissing you?”
“Then I’d live a life well spent.” This earns me a small peck, and I brush my thumb across his jaw, back and forth, back and forth, before pulling my hand away.
I don’t get very far before LB covers my retreating hand with his own and presses it back to his face. LB’s eyes are begging me to be worthy of the trust he’s giving me. I hope my own eyes express how willing I am to do whatever it takes to be that person for him. He must see something in them that puts him at ease, because he releases my hand but tilts his head into my palm and releases a little sigh.
When I feel his arms loop around my waist, moisture pools in my eyes. We don’t speak. We just stand there. Me cuppinghis face, and him holding on to me, gazes locked. We’re encapsulated in our own perfect little bubble. Here, we’re safe. Here, we never have to part. Here, we can just be. LB and Teddy.
The end of the evening came too soon. LB held my hand the entire walk back to his apartment, and now we’re once again standing in his doorway, unwilling to part. “Will I see you soon?” he asks, voice small as he fingers the hem of his shirt.
“Say the word, and I’m there, as long as I’m not at work.”
The drive back to my own apartment is somber. I already miss him so much my chest aches.He’s not going anywhere.Logically, I know that, but the organ in my chest can’t help but fear that he’ll disappear again.
I’ve just laid out my scrubs for tomorrow when my phone pings with a text.
LB:The word
I toss my stuff into a duffel bag, and I’m out the door in under five minutes, heading home.
That was four months ago, and I’m still here. There was no big conversation. No grand gesture. We simply fell back into the patterns of our childhood. We’ve always gravitated towards one another. Being within each other’s orbit makes breathing just a little easier.
The first month, I slept on the couch. My back constantly reminded me that I was getting closer to thirty, but sharing LB’s space was worth the ache. By the second month, I’d moved to his bed. He slept under both the sheet and the comforter. I slept under the comforter but stayed on top of the sheet in order to minimize any skin-to-skin contact. LB was able to touch me outside of the bedroom, but unanticipated touch while he was asleep still set him off.
Month three came, and I found my way under the sheet. I purchased a body pillow to keep between us, but LB started to sneak his way past it in his sleep. He’d always been a bit of a heat-seeking missile. It was nice to see that some things never changed. Now here we are four months later. When I go to bed every night, he usually crawls into my arms without hesitation, but there are still bad days when he needs space, and I find myself back on the couch. Thankfully, those continue to grow further and further apart.
Everett
When I enter the apartment, I find LB lying in the middle of the living room floor, staring at the ceiling.Uh-oh.I take my shoes off and leave my phone and keys on the hallway table. Quietly, I walk over and lay down beside him.
“Thoughts moving too fast?”
He turns his head to look at me. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. The pain clouding his eyes is gut-wrenching. He watches as I stand back up and hold my hand out to him. After a slight hesitation, he places his hand in mine. I pull him to his feet and lead him to the bedroom, and he tenses slightly when we come to a stop beside the bed. I ignore the reaction, focusing instead on reaching into the bedside table for what I know will help him. His entire body deflates when he sees the markers in my hand. Gone are the days of dollar store markers—I asked Max what brand LB uses to make sure he would like them.
“How are you even real?” he asks quietly.
I just shrug and pull my shirt off. I lie face down on the bed and shift around until I get comfortable. As kids, he would make me lay face up while he straddled me so that I could see him work. We aren’t kids anymore, though, and Cooper still has a hard time with touch that may be construed as sexual. Even more so when his mind pulls him back into dark thoughts. A few minutes go by with no movement on his end, but I don’t rush him. This is a big deal, and we’ll go at his speed.
I hear him take a deep breath, and then the bed dips under his weight. He straddles my hips in a smooth movement, long dormant muscle memory kicking in. I’m surprised by the stirring I feel in my groin. That’s a first for me, but I ignore it. This isn’t about me, and I would never make LB uncomfortable. The tickle of marker against my back distracts me from that train of thought.
He seems to be focusing his attention on my right side, more specifically, between my ribs and around my hip. I’m curious about what he’s drawing, but I refrain from asking. His mind needs to settle, and talking to him would undo any progress he’s made. So I wait.
“I was thinking about what Mom said at our first visit,” LB eventually says, breaking our silent cocoon. I wait for him to elaborate. “What do you think about me pressing charges against Silas?” He whispers it so quietly, I have to strain to hear.
I hum, taking a moment to collect my racing thoughts. I want to sayYes! Do it! Throw the book at that waste of space.But that would be my emotions speaking, and that’s not what he needs. “I think if that’s what you decide to do, you have an entire support system willing to stand behind you. I think if you decide that’s not the right choice for you, that same support system will still be there for you. This is a deeply personal choice. I can’t in good conscience endorse one decision over the other. After having far too many choices taken from you, this is one that you and onlyyou get to make. I’m here for you whatever you decide, whatever you need.” The slight hitch in his breath makes me worry that maybe I said the wrong thing, but the gentle touch of his lips to my shoulder tells me I didn’t.
“I think I’m going to do it,” he says, pulling my focus away from his lips and back to the conversation at hand. “He took so much from me. I won’t let him take my future too. I need to stand up to him. Otherwise, his memory will always be the monster hiding under my bed. Will you go with me to the police station?”
“Of course I will. Whenever you’re ready, LB.”
“I think I want to go after Max returns from her New York trip. I’ll need both of you afterwards.”
“Friday it is, then.”
