The question hung between us, heavier than any of the things we’d just done.
I hesitated, searching his face, trying to gauge what he needed from me. Honesty. Always honesty. “I don’t know,” I admitted, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “I just know I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I try, it’s like you’re everywhere. You drive me fucking mad, Cal.”
He went quiet. Not tense, exactly, but inward. As if he was folding himself up around a truth that was too dangerous to let out. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost small. “Nobody really wants someone who’s damaged. Not for long, anyway.”
That made something twist in my chest. I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his, anchoring him to the present. “You’re not damaged. Or if you are, so am I. Maybe that’s why this works.”
He gave a soft, humourless laugh, but he didn’t pull away. I could see the storm behind his eyes—years of being left, being judged, being told he was too much or not enough, always something wrong.
I didn’t push. I knew better than to force him to share what he wasn’t ready to give. Instead, I squeezed his hand, letting mythumb brush over his knuckles. “You don’t have to say anything. I just want you here. However you want to be.”
He looked at me then, really looked, and for a moment I saw something raw and unguarded pass across his face. Trust, maybe. Hope. Something fragile but fiercely alive.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he said, so quietly I almost missed it.
I leaned in, pressed my lips to his temple, breathed him in. “I won’t. I can’t promise forever. But I’m here now. I want you now. And I’m not going anywhere tonight.”
That seemed to be enough. He let out a long breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. I kept him close, holding him as the exhaustion finally caught up. Before he drifted off, I murmured, “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here. You don’t have to handle it all alone.”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go either. That was enough for now. I watched him slip into sleep, guarded but safe, and knew that whatever we were—whatever this would become—it was more real than anything I’d felt in years.
