Chapter 34
Luca
The new semester is starting without us. We’ve both requested a leave of absence—Noah with a doctor’s note and I with proof that I’m caring for him and that no one but me can fulfill this role.
His left leg is still weak, but he can bear weight on it for short distances and activities, so he can get around the house reasonably well on two crutches.
He manages without me, but I can’t manage without him.
When he’s not with me, anxiety sets in, settling in on my chest like an elephant until I can’t breathe.
I left him alone once and almost lost him, that won’t happen to me again. I can’t lose him.
Noah is sitting on the bed, looking at me expectantly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He quickly turns away, but I don’t believe a word he says.
He wants me to leave while he changes. I sit down right next to him, our arms and thighs touching.
Physical closeness has become difficult.
Noah can barely tolerate being touched anymore, at least not by me, he flinches or grimaces.
When I walk into the bathroom, he storms out of the shower.
“I miss you.” My voice is soft, but I’m sure he heard me.
“But I’m here.”
I shake my head silently. “Your body is here, but you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not the person you fell in love with anymore.”
What a load of bullshit. “What do you mean?”
For the first time today, Noah looks me straight in the eye. “Are you serious? Do I really have to say it out loud? Isn’t it obvious enough? Look at me.” His voice trembles, his lower lip quivers, and I know he’s on the verge of tears.
“I look at you. Every day. I see your freckles, I see your eyes, and yes, I see your legs. I see how they carry you more and more, I see how you’re fighting, and I’m so proud of you.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He tries to look away, but I won’t let him.
“I know that. But your scars don’t matter to me.”
“I don’t even want to look at myself—how can I expect that from you? Let’s not even start about touching. Sometimes I can’t bring myself to put lotion on my legs, not even with my glasses off, because I hate the way my scars feel.”
Hearing that hurts. “Give me the lotion.”
“No.” Noah replies immediately and vehemently, but I keep my hand outstretched.
“I still dream about your legs right after the accident, anything is better than that image. Literally anything.” A lump forms in my throat, fuck, one more word and I’ll be bawling.
No quiet tears, I want to scream, to shake him.
He has the obvious injuries, but this whole thing hasn’t left me unscathed either.
“I’m sorry.” Noah leans against me very lightly. Before the accident, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but today an indescribable warmth flows through my body, a warmth only Noah can convey.
“Can I hold you?” Every word bursts out of me in a sob.
“Do you really want to?”
“Are you really asking me that?”
“Do you… want to kiss me, too?” That he’s even asking me that…
“Fuck, yes.” I cup his beautiful face with both hands and press my lips against his.
I can’t even remember the last time we kissed like this.
Not a fleeting kiss in passing, this is a longing cry for an “us” that’s slowly but surely fading away between pain and fear.
“I love you, mon Papillon, so much. Don’t push me away. Please.”
“I love you too. Do you want to…” Noah swallows hard and looks at me uncertainly. “Do you want to put lotion on my…? Only if you don’t mind.”
Quite the opposite. “Lie down. I’ll undress you, okay?” Noah nods and slides back, then presses his glasses into my hand. “Are you sure?”
“If I can’t see my legs, I can convince myself for a little while that nothing happened. Please, play along.” The desperation in his small voice is palpable.
I tug at his waistband and he lifts his butt. Not quite as gently anymore, I slide his pants off. He isn’t fragile. I squeeze a long strip of lotion onto both his lower legs and Noah groans in protest. “That’s too much, it’ll take forever for that to soak in.”
“I don’t have anything else planned for today. Relax, I’ll start.” He flinches anyway when my hands touch his bare skin, nothing is left of the ease we’d worked so hard to achieve before the accident. We did it once though, we can do it a second time.
I apply the cream to both lower legs with firm pressure, feeling the unevenness of the scars beneath my fingers. None of it is gross, none of it is ugly. Not to me. They belong to Noah, and Noah is beautiful.
I take my time. The left leg first, the one with many scars in varying sizes from various flesh wounds.
A patchwork of new and old skin. I massage the cream in, tending to every single patch of pink skin to keep it soft and supple, and Noah relaxes.
A trembling breath leaves his lungs, his lower lip quivers, and two tears find their way down Noah’s temples into his hair.
I move to the other leg, the one with the long surgical scar, and Noah breaks down.
Loud sobs shake his slender body and his face is contorted.
“You’re almost done.” With those words, I gently kiss his ankle, and a shiver runs through his body.
With countless little kisses, I trace my way up his lower leg, along his long scar, then I repeat the whole thing with his other leg.
When I reach his hip, I push up his T-shirt and kiss his flat stomach, his belly button, his ribcage, his sternum, his collarbone.
Carefully, I lie down between his legs, brush the thick hair from his forehead, then kiss his lips.
Noah is still crying, but he returns my kiss. “Why are you doing this? You could have someone so much better than me.”
“There’s no one better than you, mon Papillon. I love you, even if you can’t accept it right now.” Two slender arms wrap around my waist and he holds me tight. For the first time in six weeks, he’s touching me, and even though he’s falling apart in my arms right now, fuck, I’ve missed him.