And when he came apart, body shuddering and legs going stiff, I held him through every tremor, whispering his name, his worth, everything I’d been too scared to say out loud. I stayed close, breathing against his hip, letting him feel that I wasn’t going anywhere.
He sagged back against the pillows, chest heaving. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was his unsteadybreathing and the distant hum of the bathroom fan he’d forgotten to turn off.
I dropped soft kisses to his stomach, letting the touch ground him. “Easy,” I murmured, my hand smoothing along the line of his ribs. “You’re okay.”
He let out a shaky breath—almost a laugh, almost a sob. “I’m… sorry.”
That snapped my head up. “Eli. No. For what?”
His eyes flicked away. “I didn’t know how to ask. I just—” He swallowed hard, and his voice cracked. “I needed something, and I didn’t know how to tell you without sounding pathetic.”
My chest burned. I crawled up the length of his body until I could bracket his face with my hands. He kept looking anywhere but at me.
“Hey.” I pressed my forehead to his. “You don’t owe me perfect communication. I’ve been watching you walk around the house like a storm cloud with bad posture. I knew something was wrong.”
His lips twitched. “Bad posture?”
“You heard me.”
A breath of a laugh escaped him, and that was the first real sign he was coming back to himself.
I settled beside him, pulling him into my chest. He came willingly—no tension, no pride—just tired limbs and quiet need. His hair brushed my throat, warm and damp, and he exhaled with relief against my skin.
“I hate feeling useless,” he said, voice muffled. “I hateneeding anything. I hate that you have to… take care of me like this.”
He hated feeling vulnerable toward me because he didn’t fully trust me yet.
“That wasn’t taking care of you,” I said gently. “That was making love to you.”
His breath stuttered, and I felt the tremor ripple through him.
I drew slow circles between his shoulder blades, feeling him soften under my touch. “You’re allowed to want things, Eli. You’re allowed to need things. Especially from me.”
He shifted, pressing closer, as if he wanted to fit himself inside my skin. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not.”
“You sure?”
I tipped his chin up and kissed him, soft, warm, a counterweight to every fear he didn’t know how to name. He let out a tiny, wounded sound against my mouth that made me hold him tighter.
“I’m sure,” I whispered. “I want you. All of you. The quiet parts, the restless parts, the parts that snap at me when you’re overwhelmed. I’m not here out of conscience, or duty, or pity.”
He blinked up at me, eyes glossy.
“I’m here,” I said, brushing my thumb along his jaw, “because there’s no place I’d rather be. I’m here because I can’t live without you.”
Eli swallowed, his throat working. “I thought… after dinner with my parents… maybe you were pulling away.”
God, that hit so hard I had to close my eyes.
“I wasn’t pulling away,” I said. “I was scared of pushing you too hard. I didn’t want to trigger another argument.”
He inhaled slowly, pressing his forehead to my chest. “Ineedyou to stay.”
His plea crawled under my skin and rubbed me raw.
“I’m here,” I said again, kissing the top of his head. “I’m staying.”
