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Asa was all too familiar with fake concern.
All those words that people say but don’t mean. They say them because it makes them look like good people who have compassion. Meanwhile, they’re already thinking about what they’re going to do next; in five minutes, their attention will be elsewhere.
After his mother’s death, after a breakup, after every hardship, he had seen people nod sympathetically and utter meaningless words.
"I know you’re hurting."
"I feel for you."
"It’ll get better."
But as soon as the words left their mouths, they lost interest.
They knew nothing.
"I know you’re suffering."
How could they possibly know his pain?
It was his pain.
No one knew it.
Just as he didn’t know the pain of others.
Because his pain was personal, and no one really knew him.
No one.
No one until today.
Until Anthony.
He hadn’t known Anthony for very long, but he seemed to understand him better than anyone else.
Anthony, who never took anything for granted.
Anthony, who never made assumptions.
Anthony, who was simply there.
A reassuring presence.
An understanding presence.
A comforting presence.
He knew he didn’t need to say anything; his presence was enough.
He gave Asa the space he needed.
When sometimes, like today, old wounds came back to haunt Asa, invisible scars that had faded but still managed to make themselves known, like a bone-deep ache on a rainy day.
Asa sat on the couch, staring into space. He was mulling over some insulting words a customer had said to him earlier in the bookshop.
She probably forgot everything after leaving the bookshop angry, but Asa couldn't.
Anthony came over and stood in front of Asa without saying or asking anything. He simply ran his hands through Asa's hair and waited for his lover to react. Asa sighed and rested his head on Anthony’s stomach, wrapping his arms around his waist.
Anthony said nothing, only humming softly as he ran his hands from Asa’s head down his back, offering gentle, soothing caresses.
After a few moments, drawing strength from his lover’s presence, Asa stood up. He looked up at Anthony and smiled, a faint, exhausted smile, but a smile nonetheless. Anthony smiled back and nodded before cupping Asa’s chin and kissing him tenderly.
Asa then buried his face in Anthony’s neck, and his lover held him close, whispering into his hair, "I know."
Yes, Anthony knew.
Because Anthony knew Asa.
Because Anthony loved Asa.
And his love healed everything.