The weight of this situation is crushing me, and with my mouth clamped shut, there’s no way for it to get out. Unless I tell him, the pressure is just going to keep building.
“Come here,” he says, wrapping me back up again.
I slump against him, letting him hold me up, and we gently sway in the middle of the apartment. He plays with my hair, running his fingers through it and wrapping it around his knuckles before letting it fall, and I close my eyes to bathe in his calmness.
Tell him.
I bite my lip and wait for the tears to dry up.
After a long time in his quiet patience, he shifts, cupping my face, and wipes his thumbs along my cheeks.
“Uh, I was going to go for a beer with my brothers. To plan out everything. Is that cool?” he asks.
“You don’t need to ask permission to go out.” I step back, running my hands over my hair and face like I’m trying to straighten myself up.
“I know, I just…” he starts. “I need to know you’re okay.”
“You’re fine. Go. I’m just going to take a shower and head to bed.”
He doesn’t move, but his stance widens, his shoulders broaden, and he tucks his hands in his back pockets. Everything about him is challenging me. He roots through me to find all my lies, all my shadows, and I try grasping at all my tricks that work to fool others.
He’s not others.
“Really, Zeke. You don’t have to worry about me.”
I walk backward to my room, unable to look away from him until my back hits the doorframe. As I’m closing the door, he sighs.
“Nova?” he asks, curving his shoulders in.
“Yeah?” I grip the door handle so tight, my fingers hurt.
“I hope someday you’ll trust me.” He says, then scrunches his mouth up with uncertainty. Before I can answer him, he spins away and disappears into the hall.
I close the bedroom door, tears rushing my eyelids, and there’s no stopping them.