Page 194 of Tell Me I'm Enough

Then he shifts, turning toward me. He pulls me into his chest like he’s been holding his breath for days, and finally feels safe enough to exhale now that I’m here.

I press my head to him and listen to the rise and fall of his breathing—uneven, heavy, and tired. I swear I can feel his broken heart beating against my cheek.

We stay like that for a while, just letting him relax into me, letting him feel safe for a moment. Not talking, just…being.

I slowly lift my head and press a kiss to his cheek, and before I can pull away, he grabs my face, pressing a kiss to my lips.

It’s not passionate or heated. It’s desperate, like grabbing for air while you’re drowning.

And I let him. I even kiss him back, trying to resuscitate his heart.

It’s in that moment that I feel it.

It didn’t take some happy moment, or any swooning, or me being so swept up by this boy, to know.

I love him.

I love him in his darkness just as much as I do in his light.

I love him enough to sit in this darkness with him and not move until he’s ready to get up.

He presses his forehead to mine like he always does when he’s begging without words for me to be his anchor.

It’s then that I feel his tears falling onto my cheeks. I swipe my thumbs along his face, wiping them away as they fall. Staring into his eyes, waiting until he’s ready to give me more.

“I don’t feel like I can be around anyone like this,” he whispers. “The thoughts won’t turn off, and it physically hurts. Everything…hurts, Simone.”

“I know. I know, Mase.”

“I tried to act normal, but I can’t get out of my head. It’s like I’m not allowed to feel okay yet. I don’tdeserveto be okay yet. This was my fault. It’s always my fault. And I deserve more thana stupid ass sling on my arm and my fucking dad making it like nothing ever happened.” He pauses, trying to collect himself. “I can’t stop thinking about him dying, and it being my fault. I can’t stop playing over and over in my head what could have happened, like it’s whatactuallyhappened. For weeks after he came home, I kept having to go and physically check to see if he was still here because it felt like my mind was trying to convince me he wasn’t actually alive.”

“Tank is alive.You’realive. Andthis…this isn’t the answer for any of it, Mase. You can’t stay like this, locked away, punishing yourself.”

“Why not?” he murmurs.

“Because you don’t deserve to, no matter what your brain is telling you; you don’t.”

I can feel the tap of his fingers under the covers, like he’s trying to force his thoughts to slow, give the racing feeling in his body somewhere to go.

The silence starts to feel suffocating, like if I don’t pull him out of his head, he’ll stay stuck there.

“Maybe,” I start gently. “Maybe you should talk to someone, Mason.”

“For what?” he scoffs. “So they can tell me how fucked up I am? I already know that.”

“I’ve seen it help people,” I say gently. “It helped Lydia.”

He stiffens. “I’m not like Lydia. I’m glad that worked for her, but…I’m not her.”

All I can think about are all the bottles scattered across this room, and all the broken parts of a boy forced to stay hidden under a smile until he feels so drowned by constantly pretending he has to hide away from the world.

“You can’t stay like this,” I say instead. “I won’t let you. You’ve gotta get up. You’ve gotta keep going.”

He doesn’t respond.

I start to move, sliding out of the bed, and his arm tightens around me.

“Don’t,” he says quietly. “Just…give me a couple of minutes. Please.”