Neither of us spoke for the longest time. We just kept looking at each other. I think it was the first time I’d been with him and didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, fuck this!” he eventually said, taking a step forward. He cupped my face with both hands and kissed me.

It had never been like that. I got instantly breathless and probably would have lost my balance had I not clutched his T-shirt with both hands. He then pulled away—but only just. Leaning his forehead down a bit until it met mine, he took the longest time to open his eyes, and once he did, he looked so worried. It was as though he was afraid I would open my mouth and say something that would continue to break his heart.

I didn’t. I couldn’t, not anymore.

Whatever strength I’d had that had allowed for me to keep my distance all that time had vanished the very instant I saw him sitting on that step, waiting for me. And it was the first and only time in my life I’d been glad to find myself lacking in courage. Neither of us dared to speak for what felt like endless minutes.

And yet.

As I looked into his eyes, I wondered if there was any need for the utterance of a single word that would make him understand what I felt. I wondered if I had to tell him how sorry I was, for the hundredth time. To have him listen as I let myself get too nervous at his very presence and end up rambling like I always did, having every thought escape my lips unfiltered, exposing themselves to him in all their incoherence—but without any sort of dread or fear of having them be misinterpreted.

I wondered if he knew it as he held me in a way that made our chests all but glued to each other; I wondered if he could feel how shallow my breathing was, how much I shook, and how my heartbeat was so strong it threatened to break through bone and skin to find his.

I decided there was no need to tell him anything just then. Instead, I stood on the tips of my toes to level our eyes so I could feel his lips on mine again. All of that, along with the thousands of thoughts that went through my mind as he held me. I could tell them to him another night. There was no need to speak of them at that moment. All I needed was to be present, to have him know that I was there with him. All the rest could wait, and so could I.

I could wait.

Epilogue

Epilogue