In the dark, I wait for sleep to come. The sheets are slippery and a fan is blowing a gale around the small square room. I search the empty space for some sliver of comfort. But there is no scent clinging to the bed, no soft snore echoing off the walls. I turn but try not to toss, since the bed is absurdly loud when in motion. Hours pass, and eventually I slip under, like a piece of paper tucked under an object, gently pushed out of sight.
I’m pulled out of my stupor by an earthquake, but it’s just the boy climbing up the ladder to meet me. He asks to share the space, aching from the floor, and I grumble an affirmative through my daze, annoyed that he’s woken me instead of just sleeping up here in the first place. As he settles in, I realize I’ve only been taking up the very slightest bit of space in the corner, wrapped up around myself like a snail. But, after all, I’m the intruder here. I don’t have a right to this space. I don’t have a right to any space, but he offered me shelter anyway.
He also offers a shoulder to cry on, an embrace to keep me together, and I accept with shaking hands, lonely and afraid. He holds me, but it’s still not safe enough for me to fall apart. I’m buried too deep, packed down under layers of earth as a way to survive. My heart shudders, gagged and bound deep inside. It starts to scream when his skin meets my skin.
His hands start to wander, but instead of bringing me any comfort, it just burns. The timing is all wrong, and suddenly I want to crawl back into myself.
Oh, god. Not now.
He’s invited me into his domain, crept closer to me in the dark, and suddenly, he’s trying to pull me back under, but I can’t allow myself to accept why. It’s too soon, and it’s also far too late.
Stiffness settles into my body as he tries to pull me closer.
Not now, please.
Not now that I’ve risked everything and sent cracks running through the foundations of all I know. Now that my heart stutters for someone else’s smile, now that I have a hand to hold. Now that I have no idea if anyone I love will still be by my side a year from now.
I look at him in the dark, but I can’t make out his face. His hands continue to move across my body and I freeze. I want to pull away, want to pull him closer. I can’t bring myself to do either, so I lie still, heart thudding like a drum in my ears.
After a while, his touch disappears and relief pulses through me. As he drifts off to sleep, I curl up in the dark and silently beg with every ounce of myself:
Please don’t break my heart again. Not now.