Alone [manxman]

six:: when you meet a boy.

[Sullivan; All the Way Down by Kelela]

SIX: when you meet a boy.

January 25th, 2016

The sound of crying had woken me up, followed by a hard shove to my back...then another. By the third jolt, my eyes had snapped open, my body turning to catch my boyfriend thrashing haphazardly on my twin bed, if I wasn't the one on the edge, he would've fallen off completely. Paul's body was covered in sweat, his eyes screwed tight as he panted and he was still for a second.

Then he started up again. I wasn't sure what to do when someone else was having a bad dream, I was never the comforter, always the one who needed comfort so at the time, I was nervous and hungover. He looked like he needed me and I wasn't sure if I was even capable of being there. But I had to, this wasn't just a simple bad dream, Paul was having a nightmare.

His hands were balled into fists, tight around the comforter and he stiffened fully, his body screaming. I found myself ignoring everything I had ever been taught about dealing with someone having a bad dream because I knew how terrible it was. Reaching over, I went to stir him awake, hoping he wouldn't make too much noise.

"Baby..." Pet names always calmed me down, that and physical touch but Paul wasn't big on the latter, not when he wasn't aware prior. I shook him lightly and only slightly, backing off when it felt like he was coming to. His face was red as he relaxed a bit and I watched him, tension dissipating form his bones. He jolted when I called him for a second time, eyes snapping open and they were filled with tears, "baby, again?"

He'd told me about the nightmares, they'd been reoccurring during the #MeToo movement, reoccurring once he started to open up about his experience online and I wasn't sure how to help him, I didn't realize that my actions the night before did nothing but worsen it. I thought that I knew everything but when Paul told me he wanted to open up about his assault... online, I thought he would have handled it better.

But it'd been months now and I thought he was getting better, I thought he was recovering as he'd started therapy but having to pull open the closet and let your skeletons out was almost like reliving the situation over and over and over again. Everyday there were more allegations brought to the light and he was thinking about it again, he wouldn't let himself forget because he wanted people to know. He always strived for something bigger than him despite it being at the expense of his own health. His therapist had warned me of it, he'd told me that Paul would need some time, that it would be tough but I wasn't ready for the useless feeling that came along with it.

I couldn't help him anymore than being there, this was something he had to do on his own and it felt selfish, it did, especially when he'd done so much for me. "Come here."

"I'm sorry." His voice was gritty and he was still shaking, twining his arms around my neck, he bring his face into my shoulder and I held him to me, my fingertips just barely grazing his waist. Laying back, I pulled him with me and intertwine our legs, hoping that it would provide the comfort he needed. I wasn't sure how to be needed but I was learning to let him lean on me and to keep him upright. I didn't know if he were apologizing for this or our fight and I could feel him breaking in my arms.

Sighing, I knew he'd never stop feeling apologetic, he always felt bad for putting so much pressure on me but I had forgotten the reassurances. "Do you wanna talk about it?" My hand was rubbing small circles on his back and he shook his head almost hesitantly.