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What was worse is, I was certain I hadn’t yet learned how to unlove him either.
A beautiful, heart-rending, disheveled mess.
He just continues to stare at me, his hazel-colored eyes full of longing. Full of yearning. Full of desire. For me. It hits me harder and cuts me deeper than any indifference and disappointment ever could. Because he’s looking at me the way he always has. Like time hasn’t passed. Like nothing has changed. Like he needs me. Like he loves me.
He may be a different man, and I know there’s more than just a black cloud hanging over us, but he’s still familiar. He’s still safe. He’s still my home.
It’s always been an unspoken rule: you are who you are and you love who you love; you never need to explain that.
It’s hard to admit, but the quicker you realize perfection isn’t what you’re striving for, the easier recovery is to process.
Strangers who could maybe start from scratch and try to be friends. Start fresh. Start something different, something new. But just like my recovery, maybe we could do it. One conversation at a time. One foot in front of the other. One moment at a time.
Now, with every part of me touching him, I was certain it didn’t matter who it was or what gender they identified as, I would never be able to see anyone but him.
When I confronted her, she asked me how many times someone had asked me to stop using, and how many times I had told them I would, or that I had, only to relapse. I couldn’t count how many times Frankie asked me to stop. He was the only one who gave a shit, and he was also the only one who knew my word meant nothing. So, maybe Jenika had a point.
“You’re finally exactly who you were meant to be.”
He stops when he reaches my ear and whispers, “Leaving you broke my heart.”
“Feel for as long as you like or need. There is no expiration date on pain, there is only acceptance.”
“It didn’t matter if I took everything or nothing with me to Seattle. No place has ever or will ever feel like home without you.”
It’s incredibly hard not to fall in love with someone who would sacrifice his whole world to save someone else’s.”
“It seems so obvious to put the people you love before yourself and your needs, but I didn’t do that,” I admit. “Hindsight shows I didn’t even want to do that. I put those drugs before you time and time again. I was happy to die for them. You asked me to stop and I didn’t. You asked me to get help. You took me…” My voice trails off, my breath becoming harder to catch. “You took me to get help, and do you know what the last thing I said to you was?” “Fuck you,” he whispers, answering my question. “The last thing you said to me was ‘fuck you.’”
“I love you, Arlo. Every part of you. The things you love about yourself and especially the things you hate. I love them all.”
“You taught me how to love,” he exclaims. “Before you, I didn’t know what it was like to be loved, let alone to love someone in return. I love you, Frankie York. I always have and I always will.”
For the first time, I see it from Frankie’s perspective.
finally get it. I was looking at Rhys, putting myself in your shoes, staring at me in that hospital bed. Waiting for me to wake up. And you did that all alone.”
