The drive back home isn’t nearly as much fun as it was on our way to North Carolina. The frisky energy between us has dissolved, replaced with a coldness. It’s been there since Jesse activated that intense, painful, uncontrollable flashback.

It’s not his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong, but the fact that he’s the one who stirred those feelings in me once again makes some part of me feel a certain resentment toward him. But more than feeling anything toward him, I despise myself. Even after all these years, so much fucking time, that bastard still has this effect on me.

On the drive back, we listen to the radio, Jesse scanning for stations, not listening to his podcasts or rifling through the music selection in my phone.

I appreciate that he hasn’t pushed me to talk, though. I’m not ready to talk.

As we reach my condo building, there’s an awkwardness between us. I want him to go so I can recover, but there’s a part of me that fears that if he leaves, I’ll be pushing him out of my life forever. That this whole stupid situation will have fucked up everything we’ve started.

We just started using the word boyfriend and then this? It isn’t fair. Although, when has life ever been fair to us?

“Do you need help getting your things?” I ask him as I pull into my parking spot.

“No, I can get them. I guess…um…I’ll just go back to my place.”

His words, his tone, his demeanor, all lets me know that’s not what he wants, but I’m not sure I can handle him in my space right now. I don’t know how much longer the remaining discomfort from last night will linger. I feel numb and in such excruciating pain all at once.

“I think that would be a good idea,” I say. As the words escape my lips, I realize how heartless they sound. I’m pushing him away, but I can’t stop myself. These feelings that have overwhelmed me are so fucking powerful. Inescapable.

“Do you mind if I come up to go to the bathroom real quick?” Jesse asks.

“No, that’s fine,” I spit out. The innocence of his request—that he even felt he had to ask me—horrifies me. It tears through my defenses, my guardedness.

We’re too close for that. We’ve shared too much. I want to talk to Ty about our relationship, so certainly Jesse can come up to go to the bathroom. It seems surreal we’re even having this discussion.

“Yeah, we can do that for sure. Let’s go ahead and put your stuff in your car,” I suggest.

We do just that before heading up to my place.

While I’m putting my stuff in my room, Jesse goes to the bathroom.

I want to fall down and cry. I need to be alone. I haven’t had a chance to let all the pain out because I felt like I had to keep it together for Jesse. I’m not used to not being able to run away from anyone I might affect when this feeling overtakes me.

I need to keep it together a little longer. He’ll be gone, I’ll have my breakdown, and I’ll reach out to him again. This will pass. It always passes, I remind myself. But no matter how much I’ve reminded myself of that, it doesn’t seem to do any good because what I know is temporary and will pass feels like it has always been this crippling.

When Jesse comes out of the bathroom, I’m standing in the living room. It’s like I’m waiting to usher him out as quickly as possible.

I think he can sense that. I want to wrap my arms around him and let him know he didn’t do anything wrong. At the same time, I don’t want anyone to touch me because I feel so fucking disgusting.

“I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom,” he admits.

Like when he made that request in the parking garage, once again I feel like he’s broken through my defenses with his innocence. He can’t understand how much I appreciate that, but I feel like it’ll be better for both of us if he at least leaves for a little while.

But what then? I can’t tell him why that happened, yet I know he won’t push. Just knowing that he knows something is more than I’ve had to deal with.

“I don’t want to leave you right now, Eric.” His voice is warm, his demeanor kind and inviting.

“I’ll call you. It’s nothing. You haven’t done anything wrong. I just need some space to breathe.”

He approaches like he’s going to offer a hug or a kiss, and I raise my hand between us. “I really do need a moment.” And the expression on his face from my rejection…I can feel how wounded he is.

It’s not what I wanted. He doesn’t understand this isn’t about him.

“We’re fine,” I spit out. “I just need to process this, okay?”

“Okay,” he says. “Can I at least get a hug?”

I tear up. “Yeah, you can get a hug.”

I thought I would feel gross and disgusting at the touch, but it actually makes me feel a little better. It’s nice having him close to me again, nice feeling his body. In a way, there’s comfort in having him here with me. I’m not used to it. I’ve always done this on my own.

As he pulls away, he looks me up and down before saying, “Okay, but call me and let me know you’re okay.”

He takes my hand, squeezes gently, and kisses me on my cheek before turning and walking toward the door.

Stop him! Don’t let him leave!

But a part of me knows it’s best if I wait for this crippling feeling to pass.

As I hear the door open, see him start to head out, something rises in me, and I say, I think almost inaudibly, “Don’t leave me, Jesse.”

He stops in his tracks.

I feared he might not have even heard me, that I wouldn’t be able to get the words out loud enough, but he closes the door and turns to me.

“Please stay,” I add. I can hear the pathetic desperation in my voice.

He walks back to me. He moves in close, but not too close. It’s like he’s waiting for permission from me to know it’s okay.

I can’t believe I’m asking him to stay, but the truth is, I don’t want him out of my life.

Not now. Not ever.

Jesse’s been the one amazing thing I’ve had in my life in a very long time, and I feel like if I let him walk out that door, I might lose that forever.

It’s not worth it.

“I would really like to stay,” he says.

“I don’t know how good of company I’m gonna be.”

“You don’t need to be good company. I can just be here, and you can let me know when you feel better.”

We’re both skirting around what he must know, what he must have figured out the moment it happened. While I don’t like that he’s onto my secret, there’s some catharsis in knowing the secret that’s haunted me is out there. Even though I haven’t articulated it, at least someone knows that something is wrong and I’m not okay. I’ve never felt that way before, and as much pain as I’m in, I don’t feel as alone as I usually do.

Seeing the sadness in his eyes, his worry, makes me push past the darkness, the toxic pain that seizes control of my body. I throw my arms around him, pulling him close to me. He tugs me closer, and I feel that same strength and security that is so familiar with him. I whisper against his ear, “I’m fucked up, Jesse.”

It feels like a much deeper confession than it is. It feels good. It feels much better than that intolerable silence on our way back home. There’s relief in sharing even that much.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Eric, and I’m here. I’m here for you.”

I can’t keep up my front anymore. The tears start rolling down my face because of his words—more than the incident, there’s a deeper understanding. I can hear that he knows what my hurt is about, even though I couldn’t tell him about it right now if I tried.

But knowing he’s not rushing or forcing me, that he is just as he said, here for me, feels so incredible.

I weep, and it feels so fucking good, so much better than that numbness…than trying to be strong. Once again I’ve lost control of my body, but in a way that feels less painful as the tears overtake me.

He pulls me close, not saying a word, not needing to say a word, doing exactly what he said he would…being here.

“Please don’t ask me, please don’t ask me,” I repeat. I don’t even know why I’m saying it.

“I won’t,” he assures me.

He doesn’t realize that everything he’s saying is so right for me. It’s exactly what I need to hear. Like in all the time we’ve shared before this moment, I feel he understands me in a way other people can’t. I feel so lucky to have him in my life…and so scared that I’m going to wind up pushing him away forever.