She kisses my lips. My cheeks. The tears streaming down my face.
"Stop talking," she whispers.
I try to laugh. It comes out as a sob.
"I mean it." She pulls back. Looks at me. "Stop talking and let me love you back."
The tears come harder.
I can't control them.
I've never cried. Not since that night.
I learned to lock it away. To push it down. To become stone.
And now?—
Now I'm standing in a shower with the woman I love, crying like I'm twelve years old again.
Like I'm that boy in the closet.
Like I'm finally allowed to grieve.
Marina holds me.
She doesn't tell me to stop. Doesn't tell me it's okay. Doesn't offer empty words.
She just holds me.
Her arms around my neck. Her body pressed against mine. Her heart beating steady against my chest.
I bury my face in her neck and let go.
Marina
Dante's tears slow.
His breathing steadies.
The water runs warm between us, soaking through my clothes, plastering my hair to my face.
He pulls back. Looks at me.
His eyes are red. Swollen. Raw in a way I've never seen.
And then he kisses me.
Hungry.
His hands slide down my back. Find the hem of my soaked shirt. Start pulling it up.
I laugh against his mouth.
"Dante."
He doesn't stop. His fingers work the fabric higher.
"Dante." I pull back. "I'm on my period."
