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When we reach my door, he lets go of me to rest heavily on the wall. His breath is ragged, and his face is covered in sweat. I raise a hand to swipe it away, but I stop mid-air, because I don’t have the right to touch him. And he’s made it very clear he doesn’t want to touch me.
The thought brings fresh tears to my eyes, but like before, I push them down.
I focus on opening the door and getting us inside so I can make him comfortable. Then I can retire to my room and pretend he’s not here, and that my life is still as boring as before.
“Put your arm around my shoulder,” I say to him, when the door is open.
“Thank you,” Gael says, and then takes a deep breath, keeps it in, and moves to do what I suggested. When he releases his breath, it’s just a sequence of trembling puffs that speak of his pain.
I gently circle his back and place my hand on his hip, where I know I won’t do any more damage. I don’t acknowledge the fact that he’s so skinny my hand is touching his protruding bones.
Gael hisses as soon as we move forward, and my heart goes out to him. He doesn’t stop, but his weight is resting heavily on me, and I channel my will and all my strength to keep moving.
I close the door with my free hand, pushing it hard enough to close on its own, and keep going until I’m able to help Gael sit on the sofa as gently as I can while bearing all his weight.
I hear the groan of pain, and then his body goes rigid when he moves to lean his back against the cushions.
I pull back, and hover over him, just to make sure he’s okay. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I want to take his pain away.
“Let me get a glass of water and your pills,” I say, so I have the excuse to walk away, just for a few seconds, before I pull him into my arms to try to make everything better.
“Thank you.” Gael’s voice sounds tired and defeated.
And that calls to me even more. I’ve always had the need to make things better, even when it was at my expense, just like now.
With another glance at Gael, I move away, but not before noticing his ghostly face and his mouth set in a straight line.
I hurry around to gather a glass of water and a towel to dry his sweat. I’m not sure he’ll be able to take a shower after the stress of getting to my apartment.
When I get back to the sofa, Gael has his eyes closed, and it would look like he’s sleeping if it wasn’t for his rapid breathing.
I put the glass within his reach, and I open my other hand next to it, so he can take the pills.
“Gael?” I call him, but he doesn’t move. Only his nostrils flare at the sound of his name.
I wait until, with effort, he opens his eyes and looks at what I’m offering. He grimaces when he extends a hand to take the glass. So, before he can do the same with the other, I press one of the pills to his lips.
His gaze travels from my hand to my face, and even under the pain, I can read his surprise. I put on a poker face, and don’t lower my gaze, pretending that my finger against his skin doesn’t do anything to me. Then, still looking at me, he opens his mouth and takes the pill. I wait until he swallows it to do the same with the second one.
The movement brings other moments of closeness to mind. Gael kissing my fingers, while I caress his lips. Gael taking me in and making me moan like I’m made of lust.
I bury those thoughts in the depths of my mind because I don’t want to remember. Remembering means pain, means loss, and means I could fall back under his spell.
I force my mind to stay in the moment, to see him as someone suffering, and that’s all he needs to be for me. I want—wanted—to be with him more than life itself, but I can’t afford for him to break me again.
A stranger in need.
When he’s done, I take the glass from his hand and go to the kitchen, more to regain my balance than to put the glass in the sink. I take a couple of deep breaths, and when I think I’m back to my present self I go back to the living room.
Gael has his head resting on the cushion, his hands in his lap, linked by the fingers, and his face is less strained than before. I’m glad the pills are already working their magic.
I sit on the chair, the one farthest from him, to wait until he’s able to move without too much pain. Then I’ll show him to the spare room.
I’m glad now I’ve always kept it ready, even if I don’t have people coming around. Now it’s ready for Gael.
I wonder if he’s going to appreciate or laugh at the room. I was in a pink colour phase when I decorated that room, so it’s not as masculine as many people would love. But I love it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but when Gael’s breath gets deeper, I know it’s time for him to move to a more comfortable place.
