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I found him on the couch, reading a book. He raised his head at my entrance, the look of irritation on his face slipping away to a slight smile when he saw who was intruding. Even though it was only minor, I was glad to see it, as it meant he wasn’t showing me any masks.
“What brings you here Kitten?”
I momentarily considered taking the coward’s route, to forget what I came here to say, and just tell him I was looking for a hug, some attention. I could forget the whole thing and just snuggle together with him on the couch. I thought it was safe to think he enjoyed my company like I did his, and some time spent in each other's arms could only improve both our moods.
No, I want to do this. Even if I was bad at words, even if I had to fumble and ramble my way through it, there were things I wanted him to hear, things I wanted him to know. No doubts, no hesitation. Just trust that he’s smart enough to understand what you’re trying to express.
I came over and perched on the couch next to him, one leg tucked under me as I sat slightly turned towards him. I took a breath and looked at my hands, fidgeting in my lap, while I spoke.
“I want to talk about something but, umm...well it will be easier if you’re not looking at me.”
With a light laugh, he put aside his book and then reached out to me, to tuck me into his lap but paused when I shook my head.
“Can you… well... turn the other way? Facing away?”
He seemed a bit confused by my request, but complied anyway, changing his position to sit sideways on the couch, his back to me. I shifted my own position to match his, one foot tucked up, the other on the floor. Shuffling forward a little, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, lightly pinning his arms in a hug, my fingers curled into his shirt, clinging to him. I let my head drop, with my forehead resting lightly on the back of his neck.
“I need you to do me another favor. Don’t say anything, just listen, cause this is kinda hard, and I don’t even know exactly what I want to say, and if you respond I might not be able to get it out.”
Rather than speaking his assent, he simply raised his hands to the arms encircling him and gave them a light squeeze, then waited. I squeezed him back, and shifted my head to rest my cheek against the back of his shoulder, pressing tighter against him, wanting to keep him held close to me.
“We’ve never really talked about it, and it’s entirely possible you don’t want to. And that’s ok. I’ve never believed that someone, no matter the relationship, has the unconditional ‘right’ to what’s in another person’s head or their heart. It’s theirs to share if and when and how much they choose. That’s part of why I asked you not to say anything. I’m not asking you to give me any answers. I just wanted to share some of what I feel, then you can decide what you want to do with that.
I won’t say that I understand you. I can try to imagine, and empathize, but I know that’s not genuine understanding. I’d like to though, at least as much as it’s possible. I know I’ve told you this before but, I want to know all of you, all your sides and moods. I can’t promise that you’ll never scare me. Fear is a basic, primal instinct that we don’t have control over. And that’s ok too, I can live with the occasional scare. I just don’t want you to ever see or feel fear from me and think you screwed up or ruined something.
I also don't want you to feel like you need to hide things from me. Not the things you think or feel, not the things you’ve done. Even the parts you think are dark or ugly or horrifying.”
The hands that were holding my arms had tightened as I spoke and now were gripping, painfully tight. But that was ok too. I wanted him to feel me. Next to him, surrounding him, as best as I could with my smaller frame. I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the security and peace I felt when I was in his lap, cradled in his arms.
“I know it's one thing to say it, and quite another to carry through. But I genuinely believe that there is nothing you could tell me, nothing you could do, that would make me turn away from you in shock or disgust or horror. The only way you are going to get me out of your life is if you tell me, and really mean it, that you don’t want me in your life.
I want to be with you, and be there *for* you. And that means all of you. Not just the golden boy with the kind smile, and the hair that shines in the sun. That’s only a piece of you. I want the real you, all of it. The light and the dark, the kind and the ruthless, the beautiful and the terrifying. I’ve never been one to be satisfied with the superficial. I want all of it, because all of it is parts of you, the one that I lo-- .. care about.”
With that I squeezed him tighter, rising up on my knee to kiss his temple, then briefly rub my cheek against his soft golden locks, before gently pulling my arms away. For a moment he gripped them, as though he didn’t want to let me leave, before he lessened his hold and let them slip through his hands, and off his shoulders.
I hoped my words made sense, that they conveyed what I felt. And I hoped that he could believe in them, and me. Before I could change my mind, I swiftly stood, then made my way out of the room before I changed my mind and gave into my wish to bury myself in his arms. I didn’t want to force any response from him. I needed to give him time to digest what I told him, to think it over in his own time and own way. I could wait. For him, I could wait.