Pressing my forehead to his, I sigh. “I’m scared, James. I’m scared I won’t know how to support you, that I’ll let you down, but if you let me I want to try.”
“Fuck, Theodore,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes closed. “I’m scared, too. I’ve never done this. Some of the things I told you have never left my lips before last night. I didn’t think they ever would.”
My heart breaks all over again. The level of loneliness this man has lived through is unimaginable, unbearable.
“I can’t promise you anything,” he adds. “I can’t promise I won’t hide from you…lie to you.”
“Promise to try,” I urge, pressing my lips to his before enfolding his strong body in my arms. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”
“I…I’ll try,” he mutters, so quietly I wonder if I’ve imagined it.
“I love you, James.” His lips part but I hover my finger over them. “I don’t expect you to say it back. Not yet. Just know that I do. I love you. What I feel for you, how connected I am to you, it’s too strong to be anything else.”
In this moment, with his brow creased and his eyes closed, he looks like a man in fifty different types of pain. So I do the only thing I can think of. I kiss him, breathing deeply, and try to absorb some of the hurt in his heart.
“I’ll see you at work.”
Smiling softly, he strokes along my jaw. “You will.”
**********
Arriving home after an unusually busy day at work, I head straight to my bedroom and collapse onto the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted in all my life. I’m physically and emotionally drained.
Lying back on the mattress, my hands tucked behind my head, I try to process everything I’ve learned about James. I accept it, but I can’t even begin to understand. I’ve never felt anything like the feelings he expressed. Sure, I’ve been down, sad, lonely at times…but nothing has ever made me contemplate ending it all. I’ve always been able to see the other side, to know that nothing lasts forever. The things James described seem completely incomprehensible to me.
I have so many questions. Questions I’m not sure James will be able to answer. He’s on a different side than I am. He’s living with his illness, not looking at it through a window like me.
Figuring the best place to start is the internet, I shuffle into a sitting position and pull my laptop out of its carry-case next to my bed. The top hits are trusted sites like the NHS and Mind so I start there. The descriptions and symptoms are rather clinical and I keep searching until I find the support links for friends and relatives of people with mental illnesses.
Eventually, I end up on a forum, reading through other people’s experiences and situations. Some of the stories fill my gut with sadness and fear and it makes me question, once again, if I’m strong enough to do this.
“Someone die?”
My gaze flits to the doorway and finds Tess standing there, shrugging out of her coat.
“Please tell me you’re not killing off Sam’s brother.”
“What?” My brain is too frazzled to decipher riddles just now.
“You look like you do when you’re murdering one of my favourite characters.”
“I’m not writing.”
After kicking off her shoes and leaving them where they land, she jumps on the bed, propping herself up next to me and staring at the screen. “Oh my God, who are you making crazy? Bet it’s Natasha. She’s screamed nutjob since book one.”
Huffing, I snap the laptop closed. “I’m not researching for a book.”
“Well who else do you know that’s crazy?”
“Stop saying that,” I snap, immediately relenting. “Sorry.”
Her playful expression turns abruptly serious. “What’s going on, T?”
“James told me he’s bipolar last night.”
“Holy shit,” she mutters, then blows through puckered lips.
“Christ, Tess, some of the things he told me…it terrifies me.”
“You think he could hurt you?”
“No, no.” I shake my head. “I think he could hurt himself. Hell, he is hurting, in his mind. It worries me that I don’t know what to do, how to help him.”
“So, he’s depressed?”
“Not right now. I don’t think so anyway. But from what he told me he could go down that path again, and if he does, what do I do? We’re not just talking about being a little down in the dumps. He’s been to some really dark places and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to deal with that if it happens again.”
“Don’t suppose you could just walk away?”
“No! Fucking hell, Tess, I’m not a heartless bastard.”
“No, you’re not, but you can’t stay with him out of sympathy.”
“That’s not why and you damn well know it. I told you how I felt about James before I even told him. I can’t just switch that off.”
“How can you be certain? That he’s ‘the one’ I mean. Why are you with him?”
“I just know.” I don’t know why James and I are together. We’re not particularly similar, we lead different lives, have different interests. There’s just something there. A spark. A pull. It’s been there since the first time I saw his face. It’s baffling, yet undeniable. “Does there need to be a reason?”
“I guess not, but I had to be sure, Theo. You’re my best friend and it would kill me to see you get hurt, whether he means to or not.”
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t mean whether to stay with him, I’ve made that decision, it’s just…”
“You should talk to Tom.”
“Seriously? You think my whore of a brother is the best person to get relationship advice from?”
“No, dickhead, I think your doctor of a brother is the best person to get mental health advice from.”
Hmm. “I think he actually worked on a psychiatric ward during his second year.”
“I’m not suggesting he’s an expert in the field, but he’ll be able to help you better than I can. All I can do is listen.”
Smiling, I take her hand in mine. I don’t think James has ever had anyone to just listen. The notion makes my chest ache and I appreciate Tess all the more.