Chapter 11 #2
It should be an easy question. Of course I love him. I’ve rearranged my entire life around him, haven’t I? But Molly’s looking at me with those sharp blue eyes that seem to see right through bullshit, and I find myself really thinking about it.
Do I love the Liam who can’t go shopping without having a panic attack? The Liam who whispers apologies for things that aren’t his fault? The Liam who looks at me sometimes like he’s not sure who I am?
“I love how gentle he is with my things,” I say slowly. “Like he’s afraid of breaking them, but also... grateful for them? He holds his tea mug like it’s precious. He always folds his clothes perfectly, even the borrowed ones that don’t fit properly.”
“Go on.”
“I love that he still tries to take care of me. Even when he can barely function, he asks if I’m eating enough, if I’m sleeping okay. He notices if I seem stressed.”
“And?”
“I love...” I pause, surprised by the truth of it.
“I love how brave he is. He’s terrified of everything, but he keeps trying anyway.
Going to the park, going shopping, staying in the apartment instead of asking to go back to prison where he felt he understood the rules. That’s not weakness, that’s courage.”
Molly’s smile is brilliant. “There you go. That’s loving someone for who they are.”
“But what about the other stuff? The romantic feelings? Is it wrong to want that when he’s so fragile?”
“Want what, exactly?”
I feel my cheeks heat up, but I force myself to be honest. “I want to hold him. Not just when he’s having nightmares. I want to wake up next to him and know he’s safe. I want to kiss him, properly, not just comfort touches. I want...” I trail off, embarrassed.
“You want a relationship with him.”
“Yeah. But he can barely handle me putting a blanket over him without flinching. How fucked up is it that I’m sitting here fantasizing about romantic relationships when he’s in a psychiatric hospital?”
Molly reaches over and flicks my ear, hard enough to sting.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For being an idiot. You’re not a saint, Nicolo. You’re allowed to have feelings. You’re allowed to want things. The fact that you’re worried about it proves you’re not some predatory arsehole taking advantage of his vulnerability.”
I rub my ear, scowling at him. “It doesn’t feel that simple.”
“Because it’s not. But wanting something and acting on it are different things. You can acknowledge your feelings without pressuring him. You can hope for a future without making demands on his present.”
“What if he never gets better enough for... for whatever this is?”
“Then you decide if you can be happy just being his friend and protector. No one can make that choice for you.”
The thought sits heavy in my stomach. Could I do that? Could I spend years, maybe decades, loving him and never being able to tell him? Never knowing if he feels the same way?
“Have you told him how you feel?” Molly asks.
“God, no. That’s the last thing he needs right now.”
“Probably true. But maybe someday, when he’s stronger, he’ll want to know. And maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you think he might have felt something before he went to prison. What if those feelings didn’t just disappear? What if they’re still there, buried under all the trauma and fear?”
Hope flickers in my chest like a candle flame. “You think so?”
“I think,” Molly says carefully, “from everything you’ve told me about the way he acts around you, it suggests those feelings might be more complicated than simple friendship.”
“Really?” The word comes out more desperate than I intended.
“Really. But Nicolo, and this is important, even if he does have feelings for you, he’s not ready for them right now. It sounds like he can barely handle existing in his own skin, let alone navigating romance.”
“I know that. I do. I just...” I struggle to find the words. “I just want him to know that when he is ready, if he’s ever ready, I’ll be here.”
“Then that’s what you focus on. Being here. Being consistent. Being the safe person in his life who doesn’t have expectations or demands.”
“How do I do that? How do I visit him in that place without making everything worse?”
Molly leans forward, his expression becoming practical.
“Right. Hospital visits. I have some experience with this, unfortunately. First rule, let him control everything he can control. Ask what he wants to talk about, where he wants to sit, whether he wants you to stay for the full visiting time or leave early if he’s tired. ”
“Okay.”
“Second rule, don’t take anything personally. If he’s having a bad day and can barely look at you, it’s not about you. If he seems distant or medicated or like a completely different person, it’s not because he doesn’t want to see you.”
“That’s going to be hard.”
“It is. But remember, you’re not there for you. You’re there for him.”
“What should I bring?”
“Comfort things. Favorite snacks if they allow them, books, maybe a soft jumper that smells like home. Pictures sometimes help, not of big groups or parties, but of quiet moments. Things that remind him of good times without overwhelming him.”
I think about the photos on my phone, mostly just the two of us being idiots, pulling faces at the camera or collapsed on my sofa after too much beer. Normal, silly moments that feel impossibly precious now.
“What if he asks about... things? About work?”
Molly’s expression grows serious. “Be as honest as you can without traumatizing him further. But remember, he’s in there partly because the outside world feels too dangerous. Don’t bring your dangerous world into his safe space unless you absolutely have to.”
“Right.” I drain the rest of my wine, feeling steadier than I have in days. “Molly?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For this, for listening, for not making me feel like a complete freak for having complicated feelings about my traumatized best friend.”
He grins. “That’s what friends are for. Besides, love is always complicated. The simple stuff isn’t worth having.”
As I drive home through the gray London afternoon, I think about what Molly said. About loving someone for who they are now, not who they used to be or might become. About wanting things without making demands. About being the safe person in someone’s life.
It feels like an impossible task and the only thing worth doing, all at the same time.
But for the first time since I left Liam at the hospital, I feel like maybe I can do this. Maybe I can be what he needs, even if it’s not what I want. Maybe love really is enough, if you do it right.
And maybe someday, when he’s ready, we can figure out the rest together.