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Zach and I ate dinner together and then curled up on the couch to watch a little TV before bed. He snuggled into my side and I put my arm around him, letting my thumb rub over his shoulder as we watched people compete against each other to finish grueling obstacle courses in the shortest amount of time.
During a commercial break, I turned to look at him. Zach was chewing at his bottom lip and his fingers were gripping the edge of the couch. It was then that I noticed the tense set of his shoulders and the glazed look in his eyes as he stared off in the distance, lost in his own thoughts. I was concerned, so I reached out with my hand and turned his face towards mine.
“Hey, you okay?” I asked softly. Zach looked startled. A second later, his eyes cleared, and he let go of the couch, giving me a sheepish grin.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just have some stuff on my mind and I didn’t realize I’d drifted off,” he explained.
“Alright. Well, I’m a pretty good listener if you want to talk about it.” Zach gave me a genuine smile then.
“Thank you,” he said.
I stared at him for several seconds, still holding onto his chin. I could see that something was weighing on him, but I wasn’t going to push. He’d talk to me when he was ready. I leaned in, instead, and brushed my lips over his. My tongue slipped out and licked over his bottom lip, coaxing him to open his mouth to me. He did without any hesitation and I deepened the kiss, my hand sliding around to cup the back of his head.
After several minutes, we ended the kiss and Zach leaned back with a contented sigh, his breath ghosting across my face. I placed another kiss on his forehead and then he rested his head on my shoulder as we went back to watching the show.
When it had ended, Zach stretched his arms over his head and yawned. I grabbed the remote and flicked the TV off then stood up and held my hand out to him. I pulled him up and kissed the side of his head.
“Why don’t you go on in and get ready for bed. I’ll be in there in a minute.” He nodded and then turned and left the room. I watched him go and then I walked around, turning off lights and locking the door. When I was finished, I joined him in the bathroom and stood next to him in front of the mirror, brushing our teeth.
I loved doing even the simplest of things with him. It had only been a little over a month since we’d met, but already, I had trouble remembering a time when he hadn’t been in my life. Maybe it was the fact that we spent every minute of every day together, but it felt as if we’d always known each other and Zach had quickly become the most important person in my life. I loved him, plain and simple.
Zach stripped out of his shorts and climbed in between the sheets. I switched the light off and then slid in beside him, reaching in the dark for him and pulling his body close to mine. He wrapped an arm around me and laid his head on my chest. It was quiet in the room. I sifted my fingers through Zach’s hair, listening as his breathing slowed and evened out, signaling that he’d fallen asleep. I drifted off shortly after.
A few hours later, I was jolted awake by the sound of a high-pitched keening, almost like a wounded animal. Zach was no longer curled up against me and I sat up, turning the lamp on next to the bed. It didn’t take me long to figure out the cause of the noise. Zach was lying on his side at the opposite edge of the bed. His legs were tucked tightly against his chest and his arms covered his head as he sobbed uncontrollably. The sound broke my heart and I reached for him instinctively. He jerked away from me though, nearly falling out of bed.
“Don’t touch me, you bastard,” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Spit flew from his mouth and his eyes, while open, were wild and unfocused. I realized then that he was in the clutches of a terrible nightmare.
“Zach, it’s me, baby. You need to wake up.” I spoke soothingly, but it only seemed to make him more agitated.
He began to thrash on the bed, kicking at the mattress and yanking on his hair as he continued to wail. I had no choice but to try and subdue him before he could hurt himself. I quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his waist as he bucked against me. I grabbed his arms as he swung at me, scratching my chest and leaving angry red welts along the surface of my skin. I barely felt the pain though as I latched onto his wrists and held them above his head, pressing them firmly into the mattress so he couldn’t move.
“It’s your fault! It’s all your fault, you son of a bitch. You took him from me and I hate you! I hate you!” he shouted. His face, which had been twisted in anger, suddenly crumpled before me and he quit fighting me as his screams turned into heart-wrenching sobs.
My heart shattered at the sound of his anguish and I leaned down, kissing his face and whispering in his ear, my tears mixing with his own. “Zach, it’s me, Jeremy. I’m right here, baby. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you,” I repeated over and over.
Eventually, my words started to break through. “Jeremy?” he gasped.
“Yeah, baby. I’m right here,” I breathed out. Relief flowed through my veins. My forehead rested against his and he began to relax beneath me. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, Zach. I promise.”
I pulled my head away from his, so I could look into his gorgeous blue eyes and my heart ached when I saw the raw pain in their depths. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over, trickling down his temples and wetting his hair. A broken sob escaped his lips as he stared back at me.
“M-m-my na-name isn’t Zach. It’s Zane,” he stuttered. His words were so quiet, so filled with anguish that I almost didn’t hear them. My heart, which had finally begun to settle, started hammering against my ribs at his admission and I felt lightheaded.
“I’m s-sorry. I wa-wasn’t trying to b-be dishonest with you.” Regret and shame contorted his features and he turned his face away. My heart shattered into a million pieces as guilt reared its ugly head at me. I was the last person he should apologize to for withholding the truth.
“Baby, look at me, please,” I begged. When he refused to turn his head, I reached out and gently grasped his chin, turning it for him. “You don’t have to apologize to me. You’ve done nothing wrong. We all have our reasons for keeping secrets sometimes.”
His bottom lip quivered, but he met my gaze. I held still as he searched my face, knowing that he wouldn’t find a trace of doubt in my eyes. I loved him and regardless of what he had or hadn’t told me about himself, I would continue to love him. Finally, I felt his muscles relax beneath me and mine eased in response.
“Will you tell me, baby? About your nightmare, about what happened to you?” Several seconds passed before he slowly nodded his head. I breathed out a sigh of relief.
I knew I had to be crushing him, so I rolled off, pulling him with me until he was snuggled up against me with his arm over my stomach and his head on my chest. I reached over and switched off the light, figuring it might make whatever he had to tell me easier if it was said in the dark. Then I wrapped my arms around him and waited. I could practically hear his mind swirling as he gathered his thoughts.
“I was only eleven years old when my mother killed herself. I used to hear my parents fighting in the middle of the night. It scared me the first time I heard my father slapping my mother, followed by the sounds of her crying. He’d never done anything like that before, at least not that I knew of. They always seemed to get along. I don’t know what changed or why, but suddenly that one fight turned into a regular occurrence.”
He let out a shaky sigh, and I felt his warm breath brush over my skin. “Eventually, I guess she’d had enough and couldn’t see any way out other than to swallow an entire bottle of pills. We buried her three days later. After her funeral, my father went to his room and didn’t come out for over a week.” In the darkness, he audibly swallowed around his emotions. He was silent for several moments and I rubbed soothing circles over his back, reminding him that I was right there with him and he was safe.
“I told you before that I had a younger brother. His name was Isaac and he was only a year younger than me. He’d always looked up to me, as I suppose most younger brothers do, but I admired him just as much. Isaac was a sweet kid, very affectionate and kind. He never drove me crazy like some of my classmates complained about with their younger siblings. He always saw the good in people and went out of his way to help others, even as a child. He was heartbroken after Mom died, and we tried everything we could think of to coax Dad out of his room, offering him food or to run him a bath. But it was like he hadn’t even heard us talking to him.
