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Take a shower with him. Wash his back. Take the bottle of shampoo from his hands and apply them to yours; run your fingers through his hair and gently scratch at his scalp. Watch as he closes his eyes. Watch how the stress leaves his body in waves and his muscles relax. He’ll lean into your touch, unconsciously, as a little smile spreads across his lips; content with the perfect combination of your hands on him and the warm water raining down around him.
Take the shower head and wash the suds away. Let the water dance around him, kiss his forehead and tell him you love him, you love him, you love him so. Watch how he ducks his head and scratch at his cheek. He’ll lower his voice—as if there was anyone around to hear. Almost drowned out by the shower, he’d mumble, “I love you, too.”
It’ll be quiet, and private, and wrapped up in an uncharacteristic timorous display, but it’d be true. Bird wings fluttering like the beat of his heart, he loves you. Everything you do for him, mean to him, do to him.
Regardless, despite everything, it repeated like a mantra in the back of his mind: he doesn’t deserve you. This simple kindness, your undivided attention, it was all too much. Almost. No, deep inside, he’s beyond happy you chose him. Out of everyone in the solar system, anyone at all, you were there kissing praises against his skin and devotion into his marrow.
He doesn’t think he deserves you. Stubborn to a fault, he denies himself the good things in life; simple or grandiose, the sky on the horizon line. Lost and pathetic stray he was, straight out of the gutters, he doesn’t think he deserves you. Built from nothing but blood and grime, he tells himself—he’s destined to fall, and fall, and fall; clipped wings, down to the lowest layer of the wastes.
And fell he did. His heart beating through his chest, he looked at you. You, who cupped his face so softly, feather-light, he thought he could break. And he was. Cracking at the seams, fat tears welled up in his eyes, mixing with the shower as they rolled down his cheeks; he cried.
He cried and you held him. He cried and you didn’t think any less of him. Falling to his knees in the tub, you went down with him—arms surrounding him with his face tucked into the crook of your neck. There was no one around to see, no one but you to witness this moment of rare vulnerability, but you didn’t want to take any chances.
Let him know he’s safe with you. Let him take his time. He loves you, and he loves you, and he loves you so. He deserves nice things. Happiness, and love, and companionship. You. Tell him this but understand, more than anything, that he needs time. Let him know you’ll always be there. Understand why he holds you ever closer at this. Swimming in his cycle, hold him tight; tight enough to let him know that he’s falling in the opposite direction—towards the sky, that horizon that pulled itself nearer by the day.
Reach for him. He’s already roosted a nest inside your heart. Reach for him. When dawn breaks, you’ll see him reaching back for you.