Chapter 19
Jamie
The Doctor is playing his game without even knowing it, and he doesn’t realise he’s winning.
I’m sure of it now. He isn’t someone who plays with strategy or tries to cheat.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing or what he’s stirring up in me.
Even though he seems vulnerable and defenceless, he makes me feel strong, full of admiration, and a little envious.
He doesn’t hold back; he shows exactly what he feels.
All I can do is listen, because I don’t know what to say to make him feel better.
I just hope that letting it all out helps him.
I can’t stand seeing him like this, feeling his pain, and watching his defeat without being able to help.
I listen as he tells his broken story. His voice is almost a whisper, but I can see the emotion on his face, in his shaking hand, and in his eyes full of pain.
He’s suffering for a stranger, just one of the many he meets every day.
He feels guilty. He thinks he hasn’t done enough, and I’m sure he blames himself.
I keep telling him I’m sorry because I don’t know what else to say. I usually know how to talk to people, listen, give advice, or cheer them up, but I can’t do that with him. My usual ways of helping don’t work here. This is deeper, and I can’t fix it.
The first tear falls, and even though he tries to hide it, it’s too late. I’ve already seen it. He tries to speak again, and suddenly I want to smash this coffee table just so I can hold him close and show him I have something real to give.
Then I notice his hand shaking on the table. My whole fucking world shakes with it.
I look at his hand for a few moments.
I want to hold it.
I reach out and put my hand on his. I squeeze a little, hoping to give him some of my strength. His hand stays still, but I feel it slowly getting warmer. It’s soft and delicate, so different from mine, which is rough and covered in blisters.
I don’t think I’ve ever held someone’s hand before, at least not like this. It feels strange and scary, but also good. This is a real, wanted contact, not just something that leads to sex. We both need it — he needs someone to hold his hand, and I need to hold his.
“You’re not trembling now,” I tell him without thinking.
“But you are,” he replies.
Only then do I realise I’m shaking too, and I don’t even know why. Or maybe I do, and it’s just become so much that it fills everything.
So I tell him, because there’s no point in staying quiet or pretending anymore. This isn’t just an obsession; it’s not going away.
“So, you see why we can’t be friends, right?”
I don’t look at him. I just can’t take another rejection from him, and I can’t bear to see it in his eyes.
He turns his palm up, and I put my hand on his. I know he’s looking at me, but I’m not ready for him to see everything I’m feeling.
“Do you understand it doesn’t make any sense?”
I nod but keep my gaze fixed on our hands.
“You are… I mean, we both know it. You’re a player, and I, Captain, simply can’t play against you.”
“Maybe we could play on the same team.”
“Then let me put it this way: I don’t like playing.”
“Maybe I’m getting too old for this sport. I might think about hanging up my boots.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“You don’t know it.”
“I already told you, I will never be one of your flings.”
“I’m not looking for a fling.”
“And what are you looking for?”
The time has come for me to look at him, to let him see right through me, and to let him to decide whether it’s worth the risk or if he should run away before he gets hurt.
The Doctor looks at me, searching for something to hold on to, something he can believe in.
“You know that I am not that kind of person,” he says.
“What kind?”
“The kind you usually go out with.”
“They’re just… guys.”
He raises a doubtful eyebrow. “And what am I?”
I gather my courage, hold on to it, and push my fear away. I take a deep breath and say, “You are… a man, Doctor. The only man I can think about.”