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But he is. He is, and maybe he’ll never look at me like this again. Maybe this is my only chance to show him. See, Will, see. See this heart in my chest. See how it flies for you.
“And I’d rather feel this burden of knowing and loving you than go even a second without you existing somewhere on this planet.”
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, City Boy. Sorry it took me so long to tell you.”
You need to promise me something in return.” And to him, I say, “Anything.” His mouth purses, and then he reaches up, spreading his hand over my bare chest, right over my heart. “Keep this beating.” I still. “Just keep your heart beating for me, okay?”
I might not know love, but I do know my heart beats for him.
“City Boy,” he says in a sigh. “Jesus Christ, you think this isn’t killin’ me too? That I don’t die a bit inside every time I push you away? That I want to be this scared, selfish, fucked up—”
I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not going anywhere. Prove he’s not a whim or a fix or any-fucking-thing else in between. He’s the beat of my fucking heart. And that? That’s everything.
“That’s my burden, okay?” Exhaustion weighs down every word. “My burden is loving you, but not letting myself have you, because I’m fucking petrified nothing will ever be enough to keep you. And I can’t live with that. I literally cannot live with the idea of losing you, Waylon. So there you fucking have it. I’m not just scared, I’m petrified. Happy?”
I’m right here, City Boy. I’m right here.
I just couldn’t see it before. Couldn’t believe that someone could actually care for me that profoundly, like it was the sole purpose for which they were put on this planet.
“You didn’t make anything worse, Will,” I tell him after a long, quiet moment. “You woke me up, that’s all. You brought me back to life.”
“I love you.” He freezes. I choke out on a laugh. “Christ, man. That’s gotta be what this is, right? This feeling… like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out. Like I’m dying. Like I… like I literally can’t breathe from it.” My voice catches, breaking off like glass. “All there’s left in me is… is you, and I don’t even know if that makes sense. But it’s you. It’s always been you.”
“Hell, I’ve loved you,” I go on deeply, my voice bottoming out with a grave sort of certainty, “in some capacity, for what feels like my entire life. Before I even knew what love was, I’ve been loving you.”
There was always this restlessness inside me. Frustration. Like I was trying to force something to fit that didn’t. Like there was still a piece of me missing, leaving cracks in what would otherwise be a perfect picture. So maybe, just maybe, all along… I was running to him.
