Follow the River

The thought brings me back to the last therapy session I had with Doctor Fulton. The words she spoke to me that set me off in a fiery rage.

He has this way of making you lose the control of yourself that you’re so desperate to cling to. And I think it could be good for you. I think you need it.

He didn’t just make me lose control though.

He gave me new experiences, new insights. He showed me what it was like to have someone accept you for who you are without trying to change you.

He gave me every piece of himself and asked for nothing in return.

And she was fucking right.

I needed it.

Him.

Glancing down at his sleeping form, the way his hair flops down on his forehead, I feel it. For the first time in my life, I feel what it’s like to need someone and to accept it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Not when they have so much to teach you about yourself. About life.

About love.

That word, four little letters packed with a large meaning, rolls around in my brain. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been for a while now. Ever since the night I told him about my stepfather, it’s been in the back of my head.

And when it comes to River, that little word takes on a whole new meaning.

“Tá mé i ngrá leat Abhai

They are words I had heard my father speak to my mother on countless occasions while he was still alive. Never in my life did I think I’d be saying them to anyone, let alone the guy who became my sworn enemy. But I took the easy way out, speaking them in my father’s native tongue.

Even if he is awake, he won’t know what I’ve said. What I’ve just declared.

But I do.

I am.

And I have no fucking clue what to do now that I’ve undoubtably realized it.

I’m in love with him.