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The lamp on the bedside table cast a weak, amber pool across the room, barely pushing back the dark. Patrick lay on his back with David curled against him, their legs tangled in the sheets that never quite fit the bed. David’s breathing fell soft and even against Patrick’s chest, but his body fidgeted and shifted, restless.
In an effort to begin being as open with each other as possible, Patrick and David had started a ritual of ‘sharing sessions,’ taking turns confiding their pasts to one another. That night, David had already divulged the story of a particularly harrowing yacht party with a former partner, and Patrick had just finished describing what he saw in hindsight as his first crush on a boy. Now it was David’s turn again, and the shift in his energy was palpable.
“David, was there something I said?” Patrick’s voice murmured.
David tensed a bit, shifting stiffly in the man’s arms. He carefully extracted himself from Patrick’s embrace and sat up, pulling his knees to his chest.
“No, honey,” he replied finally. “I just—since we’re sharing—I need to tell you something.” His voice suddenly turned fragile, drawing Patrick’s attention and prompting him to sit up on his elbows. Nervous energy bubbled inside of him as he waited for David to speak again.
“I wanna preface this by saying this isn’t information I usually,” he gestured with both hands in front of him, “offer up to the person I’m dating.”
Patrick nodded, remaining quiet with his gaze fixed on David’s face.
“And contrary to popular belief, I have not always been this put-together and in touch with my emotions.” David attempted to quirk the corner of his mouth into a small smile, hoping the joke would diffuse some of the tension creeping its way up his shoulders.
Clearing his throat, he went on, “When I was younger, I didn’t really belong anywhere or have anyone to rely on. I felt like an outsider in my own skin, and there were just these long stretches of time where I didn’t feel anything at all, and I um,” David took a deep, shaky breath as he continued, “didn’t know how to deal with that feeling.”
“I mean, I did,” he continued, “I filled it with shopping and parties and drinking and sarcasm, but I also had a tendency to, to hurt myself. Cut myself, I mean."
Patrick listened as David confessed, heart thudding painfully against his ribs. The admission hung in the air between them, settling heavy in both their chests.
Wordlessly, David rolled up a sleeve to reveal the pale, wandering lines on his forearm. He turned slightly, letting the dim light catch his skin. Patrick’s eyes froze, tracing the faint, silvery scars that cross his boyfriend’s skin. They’d been so easy to miss before, but now that he’d seen them, he couldn’t unsee them. For a brief, terrible second, his mind went completely blank with the sharp, aching awareness that David had carried this alone for so long.
Patrick nodded, grounding himself, the motion small but firm. He pulled David closer, letting their foreheads touch. “Thank you for telling me,” he sighed. “I’m really glad you’re here. With me.”
“I’m really glad I’m here with you, too.” David looked down the whole time he spoke, but he raised his eyes to meet Patrick’s now, looking for permission to go on in his gaze. Patrick gently took David’s hand, intertwining their fingers and giving a reassuring squeeze.
“I just– had this acute awareness that everything in my life was shitty, but then I realized I had the ability to make it all feel less shitty somehow, like I could soften the blow of my fucked-up life.” David put his free hand to his face, rubbing his eyes as if to tamp down the memories he felt resurfacing.
“I realize now that I was just making things shittier for myself. I was wildly depressed, and I needed real help, but I don’t know, it brought me this weird sense of peace at the time? Like, as long as I was in control of the cuts and the pain, then something was right in my life. It let me feel something other than this constant empty ache.”
David’s gaze had drifted to the ceiling as he spoke. As he focused back onto Patrick, he noticed the concern etched into his boyfriend’s face. Patrick looked so afraid and so saddened all at once that it sent a pang of guilt down David’s spine.
“I stopped,” David added quickly, his voice quieter now. “Before I got here. Before us.” He searched Patrick’s face, watching as his expression shifted from fear to relief to something softer. “And it’s not—this isn’t something I’m, like, dealing with now. I just—felt like you should know.” He hid his arm with the sleeve of his sweater again, wrapping his arms around his knees once more and curling into himself.
Patrick reached out and pressed a hand against David’s back, the second one landing on his arm as he enveloped David in his embrace.
“Are questions okay?” Patrick asked while softly stroking David’s bicep with the pad of his thumb. David hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“How long did you…” He let the words trail off, not quite able to voice the heavy ones himself.
David inhaled deeply as he answered. “Ten years, maybe. On and off. I started when I was 15 or so and stopped around the time when Alexis met this Saudi prince—long story—so yeah, I think I was 25.”
“What made you stop?”
David took another deep breath. “I think I was tired of being in control,” he admitted. “It was exhausting feeling like that was the only way I could fix whatever was wrong with me. It was hard to let go, but deep down I just wanted it to be over.”
“For the record, there’s nothing wrong with you, David. Never was,” Patrick interjected gently.
“Thank you for saying that.” David tilted his head until it connected with Patrick’s hand, leaning into the man’s touch.
“I know you said you stopped before you got here, but has anything between us ever—I don’t know, I guess triggered you is the right word?”
“No,” David affirmed in the most resolute tone he could muster, “nothing about us has ever made me want to go back there.” He watched as Patrick exhaled heavily, knowingly.
“Even when things were less than perfect,” David continued, “being with you has made me realize how much I want to feel all the good things, not just numb the bad ones.”
“A-and you’d tell me if that ever changed? If anything ever happened or if you felt like you might start again?”
“Yes, honey,” David nodded, “I promise.”
Patrick leaned in, his lips finding David’s temple, the kiss he left there soft yet firm and lingering. He pressed his face into David’s hair and held him tighter, breathing him in. David’s shoulders sagged, relief loosening something in him. He let out the breath he’d been holding and pressed into Patrick’s chest. Patrick’s hand moved in slow, reassuring circles between David’s shoulder blades.
“Thank you for trusting me with that,” Patrick murmured at last, his voice low and steady. “I don’t take it lightly.”
“Thank you for listening,” David hummed. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this so candidly. Or willingly. So thank you.”
“Always, David.” Patrick held him even closer.
David felt himself go slack against the man, let himself be held. Patrick remained steady, his breathing slow and even beneath David’s ear. David matched it without thinking, the rise and fall anchoring him.
His arms stayed wrapped around Patrick. The lamp glowed. The past stayed where it was.