38. Caelum
I don’t think I properly understand what I’m feeling until Rowan tells me to step back.
Not because of the words themselves.
But because of the way he says them.
Quiet.
Final.
Careful.
Like he’s trying to remove himself from something before it has the chance to damage what’s left of it.
“I need space.”
It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
It’s just space.
A simple concept.
Distance between two bodies in the same room.
Something I should understand better than most people.
But my chest tightens anyway.
Because it doesn’t feel like space.
It feels like loss starting early.
Rowan doesn’t look at me when he says it.
Not fully.
That’s the worst part.
Because I can tell he’s trying not to.
Like if he looks at me properly, he might change his mind.
Or break something he can’t fix again.
I watch him step back.
Just one step.
Then another.
Not running.
Not leaving.
But withdrawing in a way that still feels like disappearance.
My throat feels tight again.
But not from panic this time.
From something heavier.
Something quieter.
He thinks I’m in danger when he’s near me.
Or worse...
that he is.
And I don’t know how to argue with that.
Not when I just saw him like that.
Not when I saw what fear does to someone who is usually so controlled it feels like instinct.
My hands curl slightly at my sides.
I want to say something.
Anything.
But my voice doesn’t come properly.
Not yet.
Rowan turns slightly.
Already shifting away.
Already deciding what kind of distance he needs to survive whatever this is between us.
And that’s when something inside me cracks properly.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just… cleanly.
Like something held up under pressure finally gives up pretending it can stay intact.
I see him again.
Not the calm version.
Not the composed one.
But the one on the ground earlier.
Breathing wrong.
Shaking.
Trying to stay present while something inside him kept pulling him away from it.
And I realise something that makes my stomach drop.
He wasn’t just scared for me.
He was scared because of me.
Because of what I might cause.
What proximity might trigger.
What existence might do to someone who already carries too much weight alone.
I feel stupid for not seeing it sooner.
For thinking I could just stand there and hold onto him like that was enough.
Like wanting him close was harmless.
Like it only affected me.
My chest tightens sharply.
This time it’s not panic.
It’s shame.
Clean and immediate and uncomfortable.
“Rowan...”
My voice comes out too quiet.
Too late.
He pauses.
Just slightly.
Not turning fully.
That pause hurts more than I expect it to.
Because it feels like he’s already halfway gone.
Even if he’s still standing right there.
I take a step forward.
Then stop.
Because I don’t know what I’m allowed to do anymore.
Everything feels uncertain suddenly.
Like every movement has consequences I didn’t study properly.
Like I’ve been given rules I only just learned exist.
I look at him properly now.
Really look.
And I realise how tired he looks.
Not physically.
Not visibly.
But underneath.
In the way he holds himself like he’s always preparing for impact.
Even when nothing is happening.
And I hate that I might be part of the reason for that.
He finally turns slightly more.
Not fully facing me.
But enough.
“I’ll still do my duty,” he says quietly.
Like he needs to clarify that.
Like that’s the only stable thing left.
Something twists in my chest.
Because that’s not what I want.
Not duty.
Not obligation.
Not distance wrapped in professionalism.
But I don’t say that.
Because I don’t know what I’m allowed to want anymore either.
He starts to step away again.
And that’s when my body moves before I can think about it.
I close the distance.
Quickly.
Not aggressively.
Not forcefully.
Just urgently.
And I reach him.
My arms wrap around him before I can overthink it.
Before I can decide if it’s appropriate.
Before I can calculate consequences properly.
He stiffens immediately.
Not pulling away.
Just reacting.
Like his body doesn’t know how to receive softness without preparing for impact.
“Caelum...” he starts.
But I don’t let him finish.
Not because I’m ignoring him.
Because I’m afraid I’ll lose the moment if I wait too long.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly.
My voice cracks slightly.
Not dramatic.
Just real.
His breath catches faintly.
“I don’t want you to leave like that,” I admit quietly.
My grip tightens slightly.
Not enough to trap him.
Just enough to make sure he knows I’m not letting go yet.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I add.
The words feel humiliating.
But honest.
“I don’t know how to fix any of this.”
Silence.
But he doesn’t pull away.
That alone is enough to keep me going.
“I saw you like that,” I whisper.
My voice drops lower now.
“Earlier. And it… it broke something in me.”
I swallow hard.
Because I can still see it.
The panic.
The shaking.
The way he looked like he was carrying too much weight in too small a body.
“I didn’t think I mattered in that moment,” I say quietly.
“I just knew I couldn’t lose you.”
That’s the truth.
Simple.
Unedited.
Unpolitical.
Just mine.
Rowan exhales slowly.
Not fully relaxed.
But less rigid.
His hands don’t move away from me immediately.
And that feels like permission I don’t fully trust yet.
So I stay there.
Holding him.
Like if I let go, everything will reset to distance again.
“I don’t want to be the reason you hurt,” I say quietly.
The words sting as they leave me.
Because I realise how much I mean them.
A pause.
Then...
Rowan shifts slightly.
Not pulling away.
Just adjusting.
And then...
his arms come around me too.
It’s not sudden.
Not dramatic.
Just… deliberate.
Like a decision he made after weighing everything again.
And the moment he holds me back...
something in my chest unclenches slightly.
We stay like that for a while.
Not speaking.
Not moving.
Just breathing in the same space again without it feeling like danger.
At some point, I feel his tension ease slightly.
Not gone.
Just… less sharp.
And I realise something I didn’t expect.
He didn’t leave.
Not really.
Not fully.
He just needed to believe he could.
Time passes without either of us acknowledging it.
The corridor around us fades into background again as we make our way onto the bed.
Unimportant.
Eventually, I feel his weight shift slightly.
He leans in just a fraction more.
Not collapsing.
Just allowing.
And I take that as something fragile.
Something I don’t want to disturb.
My head rests briefly against him without thinking.
And I feel his breathing steady again.
Not fast anymore.
Not panicked.
Just present.
After a while...
his body relaxes enough that I notice something unexpected.
His breathing deepens.
Slows.
Lowers.
And then...
he falls asleep.
It’s subtle at first.
The way his weight settles more fully into me.
The way his grip stops adjusting.
The way his breathing becomes even.
I freeze slightly.
Not because I want to move.
Because I can’t believe it.
Rowan fell asleep first.
My chest tightens in a different way now.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Something softer.
Stranger.
Care.
I stay still.
Holding him carefully now.
Not tighter.
Not looser.
Just… there.
And for the first time in a long time...
I don’t feel like I’m the only one trying not to fall apart inside this silence.