He’s there with me.
Trey moves with quiet urgency, climbing back onto the bed, his body a solid, grounding presence as he crawls over me, bracketing me in before the distance between us can grow into something unbridgeable.
“Whatever it is you’re thinking right now,” he says, his voice low but firm, threaded with command, “You better tell it to shut the fuck up and listen to me.”
My breath stutters, my chest tight, my thoughts still racing too fast, too loud.
He leans down until his forehead presses against mine, forcing me to focus on him, on the warmth of his skin, on the steady, undeniable reality of him.
“I love you,” he murmurs, the words unwavering. “I need you. Whatever it is you’re thinking, whatever it is you’re feeling… fight it. Fight it with me.” His voice softens, just slightly, just enough to undo me. “Please, baby. You’re strong. We can do this.”
Something inside me gives.
He doesn’t hate me… he isn’t repulsed by me. He loves me. He wants me to fight.
A single tear slips free before I can stop it, trailing warm against my skin as I drag in a shaky breath, the tightness in my throat making it almost impossible to speak, almost impossible to form anything around the storm inside me.
But I try.
For him, I try.
“I…” The word barely survives the distance between us, fragile and shaking as it leaves me.
His face softens—brightens, even—like I’ve given him something precious.
“There’s your voice,” he murmurs. “God, I missed hearing it.”
I want to smile. I do. But everything inside me feels too raw, too tangled to lift my mouth into anything that resembles okay.
“I—I’m sorry I hurt you.” My voice catches somewhere between a sniffle and a choke, splintering on the way out.
“Hurt me?” he says gently. “You didn’t hurt me, dove. You…” He exhales, rubbing at the back of his neck. “If I’m being honest? You pissed me off going radio silent. I felt—” he huffs a quiet, frustrated breath, “—powerless. Like I couldn’t help you.”
“I—I’m broken.” The words spill out before I can stop them. My eyes sting, my nose burning, everything inside me unraveling all over again.
He stills.
“Dove…”
He’s going to see it now. All of it. And once he does—he’ll hate me. Regret me. Leave me.
“I am the poster child for stupidity,” he says suddenly, pointing at himself, at the ink etched into his skin. “Shit impulse control. I hurt myself all the time just to regulate whatever the fuck is going on in my head. I argue with myself—full-on debates—and sometimes I agree, like I’ve got commentators running a live broadcast up here.” He taps his temple. “Even now, one of them is yelling at me not to say any of this because I’ll probably freak you out.”
A broken laugh escapes him, but there’s no humor in it.
“I don’t even know what’s wrong with me. Trauma, head injuries, drugs, booze… all of it. I’ve thrown everything at myself just trying to stay level.” His voice dips, quieter now. “I never loved. I lusted. That was it.”
My chest tightens.
“But you…” His gaze locks onto mine, steady, certain. “You, dove? It was easy. Too easy. Like someone slipped me a prescription for love and I didn’t even question it.” He swallows. “And that scares the shit out of me, because now all I want is to make sure you’re okay. Before anything. Before everything.”
My heart stutters, aching with the weight of it.
“Fuck—what am I trying to say…” He drags a hand through his hair, pacing a step before snapping his fingers. “Right. Okay. This might make sense. I saw it on TikTok—don’t judge me.”
Despite everything, something small and fragile in my chest almost… almost warms.
“Wasa—no, wait, that’s the green spicy shit—” He winces. “Wabi-sabi. That’s it. Wabi-sabi.”
