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“Jer—”
“Did you even, for one fucking second, think about what this would do to me? What if no one got to you in time? What the fuck were you thinking?”
His eyes brighten impossibly more.
I claw fingers into my chest. “You and my parents are all that keep me going sometimes.”
Tears well, dampening and darkening his lashes.
I’m not really sure where this is all coming from, but whatever dam had been keeping them back seems to be well and truly demolished. My face bunches and I shake my head. “I can’t lose you too. I hate you so much right now, but I can’t—I can’t—” My voice stutters out into gasps, and I cover my face.
There’s a sniff, a creaking of the bed, and then fingers are curling around my wrists, over my sleeves.
At first I resist, but after the third tug, and the most broken, soft utterance of my name I’ve ever heard— “Jeremy.” —I let him lower my hands.
He searches my burning eyes, almost like he’s waiting for something.
And I stare back, waiting for him to look away.
He frowns, brows stitched together. “I think I…I had a dream…”
I snort softly. “Oh?”
“Yeah…but I…I can’t remember…”
“Cool.”
“I’m…I’m sorry.”
I shake my head.
“For scaring you, I mean. For…for hurting you. For everything, I’m…I’m sorry.”
Jaw working, I shrug, not sure what to even say to that. He did hurt me. He should be sorry. And it’s not okay. So what the fuck else is left?
I stare down at the fingers still circling my wrists, and I wet my lips.
He falls back against the bed, but doesn’t release my wrists, just holds them on his lap, making it so I have to scoot closer until I’m all but leaning over the bed.
He blinks up at the ceiling and swallows a couple times. “Fuck.”
“Mason…”
A long moment passes, before he chokes out, “Yeah?”
“You made me promise you once, that I’d…I’d never hurt myself again.”
He tenses, and his gaze snaps to me, widening, then down to my wrists.
“I didn’t,” I quickly say, but he’s already shoving my sleeves up. Rolling my eyes, I flip my hands over, fighting a shiver when he traces the insides of my wrists with his thumbs. “See?”
With the exception of some faint scarring, there’s nothing there.
“You haven’t…”
“Not since that day.”
His eyes lift to mine.
