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“Gael? Let’s get you to bed.”
He doesn’t move at first, and I’m nearly ready to call him again when he opens his eyes.
“Cammy?” His lips curve with a smile. He blinks a few times and then he looks at me again.
He seems lost for a second, probably because his brain it’s catching up with reality.
I’m sure I’m right when his smile dies, his features darken, and the wall rises between us.
“Let me help you,” I say, offering my hand to him, so that I can pull him up without him having to make any effort. Before, when he was the old him, I would have never had the strength to pull him up like this. Now . . . fuck, I don’t want to feel pity for him. An old, younger version of Gael overlaps his actual face, making me sorrowful and angry at the same time.
What was he trying to achieve when he left? Was being with me that bad?
I want to ask, but his ghostly face with dark circles under his eyes tells me to put him to bed.
Another slow-motion walk and finally we’re in my second room. I sit him on the bed and then pull out pjs from one of my chests of drawers. They’ll be a bit short, but it makes my heart hurt when I realise how big they’re going to be for him.
I make myself busy with the task of bringing him some towels, to avoid crying in front of him, and to give him the time to get changed without me there, making it more difficult.
I’m sure he’s not going to use the towels today. He looks dead tired, like someone begging for a bed to lie in. And that’s what I want to give him.
So, busy planning to put him to bed and then leave him be, I enter the room without noticing he hasn’t finished changing yet.
“Fuuuuck!“ My word is loud enough to make Gael turn around and look at me, lost and full of shame.
I don’t notice at first when he pulls the clothes against his body, because my mind is still seeing, clear as day, the damage those fuckers did to him. His back is a map of purple and green, of scratches and fingerprints, but above all, the vertebrae of his back and his ribs are protruding from his thin skin.
Tears threaten to fall, and that’s when, glancing to check if he’s looking at me, I take in his devastation. The emotion is so thick on his face that I want to bawl like a kid.
Without thinking, I walk across the room and hug him as close as his arms in front of him will allow. Always aware of the need to be extremely gentle, because the last thing I want is to cause more pain.
Forgotten is my anger, my need to stay away, and the fear of being unnecessary, because right now we are two men trying to get comfort from each other.
“Cammy,” he whispers, and I kiss his shoulder, trying to convey that right now we’re okay.
He slowly relaxes in my arms, and then his chin rests on my head, bringing back good memories. I let them go for now.
When I’m calm and ready to see his body again, I take a step back. I don’t raise my head, but I take the clothes from his hands, and with gentle touches, I help him get dressed.
“Get into bed,” I say to him once I’m done.
“Thank you.”
Instead of replying, I lend him a hand to lie down with as little pain as possible.
“I’ll bring you water,” I say, before leaving the room quickly. And I’m back just as fast.
I place the bottle next to him, and then lean in, ready to place a kiss on his forehead, but I stop when what I’m doing hits me.
I pull back but I’m stopped by Gael’s words.
“Don’t leave.”
I search his face, but his eyes are closed so tight he must be seeing stars. It’s not his words that convince me to stay, but his trembling lips and shaky hands.
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll join you.” Then I leave the room to get pjs for myself, and to make sure my heart and my mind are on the same page.
Nothing has changed. There is no us.
