Stay with me

“Yeah, alright.” Jake stood and brushed the back of his pants with his hands. “Know I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

With that, Jake walked off.

Losing the struggle to fight back tears, I pulled my knees to my chest as the aching returned, sickness competing against it. Loving Ollie was the easy part. He made it so incredibly easy. It was everything else that was complicated. Flipping up the brim of Ollie’s beanie, I dropped my head over my knees and clenched my eyes. Maybe if I drifted to sleep, I would wake up to reality. Oscar couldn’t be Ollie’s brother, and if he was, it only meant things between Ollie and me would never be the same.

You couldn’t come back from this.

The wind swirled angrily as the cold grew bitter, biting my cheeks, stinging my fingertips. I wasn’t sure if I’d fallen asleep, or how long I’d been sitting out here. The sun descended. My bones trembled, but I deserved to feel the burn. My throat was raw, but I deserved to feel the harshness. My stomach was in knots, but I deserved to feel the shame. I deserved everything happening to me because I didn’t deserve him. My eyes could barely stay open. They stung as they fought against the cold wind.

His silhouette off in the distance arrested my swollen eyes. He walked toward me, every detail of his beauty coming into view the closer he drew near. He held two fingers between his eyes as he walked in my direction. Long, determined strides, but shoulders slumped inside his gray hoodie. His hood was pulled up over his head, and I tried to stand, but it was no use.

He crouched down in front of me and searched my eyes. His were bloodshot and broken—he’d been crying. Leaning over, he kissed the top of my head before grabbing my hands and helping me to my feet.

We walked back to Dolor, hand in hand.

He didn’t say a word.

It was a curse and a blessing.

Through the doors, down the corridor, and up to Ollie’s door, we stopped. My hand shook in his, not ready for the inescapable truth—we could never be the same, and he could never look at me the same. Not after being with his brother.

Once inside his room, Ollie took off his shoes. He withdrew his sweatshirt, and then his shirt. My heart struck against my ribcage like a trapped bull, watching him silently. He stood before me and wrapped his fingers around the bottom hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head, my shirt following. He crouched down, untied each of my shoes before I kicked them off. Then he slid off my jeans.

His actions were bizarre, but if he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t. Perhaps this was his way of coping, and I would be whatever he needed.

Ollie grabbed my hand, and I followed him to the bed. We both lay on our sides, quiet and still. My back was pressed against his torso. He found my hand and held it out in front of me as he twisted the ring around my finger—a promise made not too long ago. Was my mistake grounds for allowing him out of it?

He moved the hair off my shoulder and neck, and kissed my shoulder blade, his lips lingering longer than usual.

He wanted one more night.

He was giving us one more night.