I still don't believe love is real.

But if there's anyone who ever made me want to believe —

it's you.

⸻

I don't text anyone else anymore.

Not because Joss told me not to.

Not because I made any promises.

I just don't feel the need to.

That aching urge —

to always have someone waiting on the other end —

it's quieted.

Because now, I know:

there's one person

who's still waiting.

No matter what I do.

Or don't do.

⸻

Joss sleeps next to me every night.

One hand on my stomach, loosely.

When I turn away, he doesn't ask.

When I turn back, he's never surprised.

We just... lie like that.

Every night.

⸻

One night, I turned back in the middle of the night.

Not because I was cold.

Not because of a nightmare.

I just wanted to hold him.

My arm wrapped around his waist.

My chest pressed to his back.

And for the first time —

I kissed the nape of his neck when no one was watching.

The next morning,

I left a mark on his collarbone.

Just one.

No hiding.

No explanation.

⸻

I stroked his hand as we lay there in silence.

Then I said,

"My mom once burned all the letters I wrote to my dad."

Joss didn't say anything.

"She told me not to write anymore.

Said he wouldn't read them.

And even if he did... he wouldn't reply."

I looked up at the ceiling.

Still tracing his hand with mine.

"I think that's when I learned how to love people

without expecting anything in return.

And how to leave

without saying goodbye."

⸻

Joss didn't ask "why."

Didn't say "I understand."

He just kissed my hand.

Soft.

Like a quiet vow.

As if to say:

From now on, I'll be here.

No matter how much you haven't said yet.

Not because he agreed with me.

But because he wasn't leaving.

Even if I wasn't healed.

⸻

My room was washed in early morning light.

A soft breeze slipped through the curtains.

The scent of last night's rain still lingered in the air.

I woke first.

The sun hadn't fully risen yet.

Just a pale glow stretched across the floor.

Joss was still asleep.

His chin tilted slightly.

Long lashes.

Mouth faintly parted, like he was dreaming something good.

His body completely relaxed.

One hand resting on my chest, unconsciously.

I lay on my side.

Watched him — for a long time.

For the first time,

I didn't feel the need to hold anyone back.

Wasn't afraid he'd leave.

Or vanish.

There was only one thing I felt:

I want to be near him.

Bit by bit.

⸻

I leaned in.

Kissed his chest.

Then pulled him closer.

And whispered:

"Please... love me for a long, long time."

⸻

Joss stirred.

Eyes still hazy.

I kissed him

before he could ask anything.

"What did you say?"

I didn't repeat it.

Just kissed him again — deeper.

My hand slipped under his shirt.

Fingers cold.

His skin warm.

I licked his bottom lip.

Opened it gently.

Let my tongue meet his.

Slow.

Soft.

Sinking in.

I climbed over him.

Straddled his hips.

He was still half-asleep.

Still processing.

I placed my hand on his chest.

Steady heartbeat.

Firm.

Alive.

⸻

I kissed him all over.

His neck.

His ears.

Licked across his collarbone.

My hand slid under the blanket,

found his waistband,

lifted his shirt,

caressed his chest.

"Gawin..."

his voice was thick with sleep.

"Shhh..." I whispered against his lips.

"You don't have to say anything.

Just love me."

⸻

I sat up on him.

Pulled off my shirt.

Let it fall to the floor like old skin.

No more hiding.

Didn't need to.

He looked at me —

bathed in soft morning light.

Hair messy.

Eyes still slightly swollen.

But still me —

bare and real.

⸻

I kissed his neck.

Took his nipple in my mouth.

Swirled my tongue.

Bit lightly.

My hand slid lower under the covers.

I wrapped my fingers around him.

Joss arched into me.

I whispered:

"Love me."

I pulled his pants down.

Pushed the blanket aside.

The room held only breath

and the sound of heartbeats.

⸻

I knelt between his legs.

Took him in my mouth.

No rush.

No flair.

Just tender.

And true.

I licked from base to tip.

Eyes still open.

Still watching him.

Joss let out a sharp breath.

His hands gripped the sheets.

I swallowed him deeper.

Slow and steady.

My tongue circled him.

Pressed.

Savored.

My hands rubbed his hips gently,

as if to say:

Let me do this for you.

When I finally pulled back,

I kissed the head of his cock.

"This is mine now."

Then I crawled over him.

Reached back.

Held him steady.

And lowered myself down —

slowly.

Fully.

To the hilt.

Joss choked on a breath.

No loud moans.

No gasps for more.

Just the rhythm of breathing.

And a pale beam of light

falling across the floor like a quiet blessing.

⸻

I threw my head back.

Hair cascading behind me.

Sweat beginning to pearl.

I started to ride.

Slow.

Steady.

Each movement a quiet push against his heart.

Not urgent.

Not showy.

Just the sound of skin meeting skin.

And eyes

that never looked away.

⸻

I didn't break eye contact.

Not once.

Joss didn't either.

And for the first time,

I let him look.

Not because I trusted him completely.

But because I wanted to learn how.

⸻

"Joss," I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I still don't love you.

Not yet.

But I'm here.

And I'm letting you love me."

He nodded.

Didn't speak.

Just pulled me down.

Kissed me slow.

⸻

"Gawin... you're beautiful," he breathed.

I leaned forward.

Rested my forehead against his.

Still moving.

Deeper now.

"Every time you come down like this..." he gasped,

"...it feels like you're opening your heart door just a little more."

I clenched around him.

Joss moaned — long and low.

I bit my lip.

Thrust down harder.

"No need for doors," I whispered.

"You never knocked.

You just... waited."

⸻

I changed angles.

Leaning back on his thighs.

More open.

Deeper.

Every time I dropped,

his stomach pressed into mine.

We slid across each other's sweat.

Across past wounds.

Across fear.

⸻

I pulled off.

Knelt between his legs.

Looked up.

"You still want to be inside me?"

Joss nodded.

Throat dry.

Eyes wet.

I turned around.

Hands on the headboard.

Back arched.

Looked over my shoulder.

"Then come in."

⸻

He entered me from behind.

Slow thrusts.

Each one a note.

Not hard.

Not cruel.

Just perfectly placed.

I moaned — quiet.

Gripped the sheets.

Let him fill me.

Every inch.

⸻

"Joss..."

"Yeah?"

"If this is love...

then I want it like this.

No words.

Just... don't leave."

He paused.

Bent over me.

Held me tight from behind.

Still inside.

"I've never left."

⸻

We shifted once more.

I lay on my back.

He between my legs.

Fingers laced.

Eyes locked.

And for the first time —

I didn't look away.

I spread my legs.

Open.

Willing.

He entered me.

One last time.

Slow.

Deep.

And when I came,

I cried.

⸻

No sobs.

Just tears.

Because for the first time —

I knew I was being loved.

Truly.

Completely.

Not for being beautiful.

Or clever.

Or easy to want.

But for being me.

⸻

We didn't come together.

I went first.

Fell into his shoulder.

Trembled.

Joss stayed inside me.

Still holding.

Still breathing.

I didn't want him to pull out.

I kept my hands on his hips.

Silent.

And he understood.

⸻

We stayed like that

until the sun fully rose.

Light spilled across the room like a promise.

I looked at him —

And for the first time, I thought:

If this is love...

maybe I'll start learning how to call it by its name.

⸻

That's how we ended.

Him lying on top of me.

Still inside.

Me stroking his hair.

No words.

Just breath.

Just life.

Just love.

⸻

The End.