*content warning* this story covers mental illness, death.

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"I can't believe we finally get to live together!" she said whirling around the apartment with him. He stood there with his hands in his pockets leaning against the wall smiling at her.

"I've dreamed of this for so long, and now that it's happening, it feels surreal. I can't wait to spend our lives together," he said as he wrapped her up in a hug and buried his face in her neck.

"We've finished unpacking the last of my boxes, so what do you wanna do?" she asked.

"I don't know, what do you wanna do? Maybe we can just hang out in my room — I mean our room and talk." he responded.

"Our room. That has a nice ring to it." she smiled.

They were always in sync. They had their fingers intertwined and sat on the floor together in their room facing each other.

Hours talking together passed and the sun was turning the sky pink. "I looked for you in everyone I met, Ryan," she said. "After we met, it was 2014 and I knew when I met you I loved you. I don't think you knew how much you meant to me and how scared I was of losing you. Even with all the challenges with you going into rehab and my family unable to afford the internet, we still found ways to chat when we could. I love you for that. But why did you leave me?"

He looked at her, a wistful look on his face. "I loved you too, but I was confused. I'd discovered I was bisexual, I was still in and out of hospitals and needing surgeries for my heart. I wanted to get away from my mom, and everything else. And most of all my schizophrenia had done nothing but convince me everyone was better off without me. I didn't think you'd miss me the way you did or that you'd look for me for 9 years. We were 15 and 16 when we met online. I didn't know I mattered like that. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I left you like that and that we lost so much time, because I really loved you, Jessica. I love you."

She took a deep breath, looking down at her hands. He took notice and wrapped his fingers between hers. "So what happened after all that? You don't really talk that much about the year or so after," she said.

He took a deep breath. "The year after was hell. I was still in and out of rehab and the hospital. My schizophrenia was making me lose my mind. After a while I realized, I guess I'm not dying anytime soon like I wanted, so I gave in. I started going to therapy and I got on meds. I hated them, but I realized if there was a way it could help, I wanted that. So I had a psychiatrist start treating me. It wasn't just about the meds, it was about my past. I realized I had to get through my past, like you always said. At the time I just wasn't ready, but that year I was. It was the worst year of my life. My mom died and my father stopped talking to me. I was still suicidal, and my therapist was walking me through what happened with my sister."

She squeezed his hand. He had a faraway look on his face, but her presence and her touch grounded him. "I know I never wanted to face things with my sister, and you spent so much time trying to convince me to. Eventually I did and it was the most painful thing I ever did. I was already depressed but I got worse, I cried every day. Talking about it with my therapist pushed me over the edge but then over time I was able to process it. It still hurts now, but I'm better." His eyes shined as he spoke.

"Thank you for trusting me with everything you did. I loved you for letting me in like that. I still do," she said. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He looked at her with a somber smile, "I love you and I'll talk about everything and anything with you. I'm better now. But I still cry when I talk about it. I think I always will. I doubt you want me to cry on our first night together in our apartment." He chuckled.

"I love you, I wanna talk about what you want to. I wanna hear everything in your heart, the good, the bad, the pain and trauma," she said. "If you wanna talk about it, then please. If not, it's okay."

His eyes sparkled as he spoke. "I think the hardest part was — and is — getting over the guilt. I was 7, she was 3. I was supposed to be watching her while our parents were inside, and I knew what drowning was, I knew the risks but I was playing or fucking around or who knows what. And she drowned in the pool. My parents blamed me. Her body just floated there facedown in the water." Tears rushed to his eyes. "They said I killed my sister. That I'm the reason she's dead."

The last word pushed him over. The tears rushed down, large, untethered, rapid. He blinked, sending more large tears cascading down. He let go of her hand and dried his cheeks with his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he intertwined his fingers with hers again. She felt the wetness from his tears on his fingers.

"I know, you always told me it wasn't my fault," he continued. "That my parents should've known better than to let a kid watch another kid near a pool. That they shouldn't have let us near the water and blamed me for failing at their job to watch us. And I love you, but it'll never take away the guilt. I spent a lot of time with my therapist trying to get through the guilt. After that year, I found a good combination of meds to handle my schizophrenia and I tried to get better. I got a job and started going back to school. And I'm better, I've stayed better. You said I need to understand it wasn't my fault, I see your point now in some ways. But it doesn't change the pain." His voice cracked at the last word as he fell silent.

He paused, shutting his eyes and letting the tears flow. She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder. Tears streamed down his cheeks faster, their streaks had blended into one. Some tears fell off his cheeks onto his shirt, others streamed down his neck.

Her arms around his waist let her feel the trembling in his body. He cried silently, but his body shook violently. She crawled into his lap, and wrapped her arms around his lap. One hand rested in the small of his back, the other crossed his back and rested on his shoulder.

He buried his face into her shoulder, sobbing silently. She rested her chin in his shoulder and cried silently with him. She didn't want to take away from his release. He was protective of her and she knew he'd do everything to stop her from crying, even if it meant putting his emotions away. So she tried to hide it, holding in sobs as tears trickled down her face.

After a while, his tears slowed down and he rested his chin on her shoulder. Despite the tears still flowing, he felt wetness on his shoulder. "Duckie?" he asked. That was his nickname for her.

"Hmm?" she responded.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling away to look in her eyes. He saw the tear streaks on her cheeks and the unshed ones in her eyes.

"I'm okay, I just—”

"Duckie," he interrupted. "Please don't cry, I love you. It's okay. Just don't cry." More tears rushed down his cheeks, as his eyebrows crinkled.

"I'm okay," she reassured him. "I'm just, I love you and I remember feeling that ache in my chest when you told me all this the first time. It was the first time I could feel someone else's pain physically even though we were just texting. Now we're in person and I love you so much more and—”

He cupped her face in his hands, his tears still streaming. He thumbed her tears away and kissed her.

"I hate it when you cry," he whispered. "It makes me angry and sad, and I just wanna protect you from everything. And I know it's empathy and I love you for feeling me what I do. I've never had anyone cry with me before, and I don't want you to cry, but thank you for sharing my pain. This is why I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered.

Through his tears, he watched her expression shift as tears fell faster. She began to sob and buried her face in his shoulder. Her cries only made him sorry he made her feel that way. "I'm sorry I made you cry, Duckie. I never wanted that—”

"Don't be sorry for my empathy." She pulled away. "I love you enough to feel everything you do and I don't ever want you to shut me out for that. Please don't shut me out. Please don't stop crying if you feel like crying."

He was taken aback. "Okay," he whispered.

After a few more minutes, they began to calm down. He wiped her tears away, and she dried his.

After a few moments in thought, she spoke. "You said you were in therapy, I imagine you're still in therapy now with the same person?"

"Yeah, after I started getting better, I decided I wanted to keep at it. I went back to college and finished school and graduated with my engineering degree. But you knew that."

"I know, but I love you. I'm so proud of you. You've come so far." she said as she gave him a kiss.

"So have you," he smiled. "We both have far to go. But this time we're doing it together."

Last edited by Cryophilia (January 3, 2023 11:39 am)