Work Text:
i’m scared of intimacy. truly. it’s a fear that keeps me at night. something i always find myself reaching out to but never quite touching. yet no matter how much i try to force these feelings down, i can’t help the way my mind drifts into these scenarios. of us. of you. and against my will. my heart conjures images of you—not in the dramatic ways you see in love stories, but in the quiet, unspoken moments that somehow feel louder than anything else.
my heart..
wants to wash your hair on the days when the world is too heavy for you, when all you can do is let yourself fall apart in the safety of your bed. i want to sit there, gently weaving my fingers through the strands, letting the water run over your scalp, as if each motion whispers, you don’t have to carry this alone.
it wants to stay awake with you, long into the night, when your thoughts race like a runaway train, untamed and unforgiving. i’d let you pour every worry, every fleeting thought, into the air between us, and i’d gather them up like scattered stars. just so you’d know you’re seen. just so you’d know you’re heard.
it wants to lend a shoulder for you to cry on. to bear even the smallest piece of your pain if it means you’ll feel lighter. to remind you, in the most simplest of ways, that you’re not alone. that you don’t have to be.
it wants to hold you close against my chest, close enough that you could hear what my heart says about you. although, it would be frantic, no doubt—frantically beating, unsure of what to do or how to act. or what to say; stuttering and tripping over its words. but even in its erratic rhythm, it would be honest. it would be saying i want you to stay. i’m scared, but i want you to stay. here. with me. please.
and i imagine my nails grazing your back, tentative and loving, like i’ve been craving this—craving you—for years without knowing how to admit it. and when i finally bring my fingers to your hair, i can feel myself unraveling with every strand i touch, the intimacy of it like a spark that ignites and spreads, burning away all my carefully constructed walls.
and still, my heart beats faster and faster, until i feel like i might burst. or die. whichever comes first. but it’s what i want.
even though i’m scared of intimacy.
scared of you. and what it would mean to let you in.