The day I wrote a song about you

Chapter 42: Pleasure

Nico began muttering what I believed were insults in French. I tried to talk without stuttering but I had a knot in my throat. He lied beside me, holding me tight as I rested my head in his chest, one of his hands rubbing my back.

"What happened to him?" He asked between his teeth.

"He was sentenced to thirteen years in prison." I frowned. "He- he took advantage of my innocence. He thought I wouldn't tell, but I'm an open book, you know I can't hide things, my mom knew something was up." Nico squeezed me tighter. "It only happened once. He was always very... touchy and close around me. But I had never thought much of it. I was a child and we got on well, I didn't see anything wrong in what he did. Until one day, he... he... he was my physio, too, so he said I needed a massage, and well, he-"

"You don't have to say it." Nico murmured.

"That's why my physio is a woman now. When they told me last year someone new was going to be my therapist I got scared. I'm really glad it's Riley." I didn't know why, but my voice was husky, as if I had been crying for hours.

"Have you talked to someone about it?"

"To someone?" I asked, sitting up so I could see his face. He was resting his head on a cushion, his look still filled with worry as his hand came to meet my cheek, his thumb softly rubbing against it.

"Yeah." He nodded. "A professional."

"No." I frowned. "I remember talking to the police but that's all. Oh, and you know, my family. My brothers were vivid. That's why they're really... protective around me. If I let my guard down I can be a little naïve sometimes. That's why I don't trust people. That's why I was so reserved when I met you."

"Wouldn't you like to talk about it with someone that isn't your family? Therapy had helped me a lot." He grabbed a lock of my hair and played with it between his fingers.

"You?"

He looked away. "Yeah."

"Why did you need therapy?"

"We were not talking about me." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Nico." I frowned. "I told you my biggest secret." I studied his eyes, which turned turbid. He looked unsure but also afraid. As if telling me would change my opinion of him.

"I... I used to go after the accident. To help with addiction and trauma. It helped me recover and drive again, since was scared to do it. I also... attempted suicide." He swallowed hard, his voice cracking at the end. "Those suicidal thoughts came back when they were giving me radiotherapy, so I went again."

I caught my breath. My heart had seemed to stop. "But that was... November, right?"

"Yeah. I'm okay, now. I really am." He attempted a smile. "You don't have to worry. I used to go two times a week, I go once every two weeks now. I'm getting better, I don't have those thoughts now."

"Then why did you..." I frowned, a single tear falling down my face. "Did you attempt it again?"

"No." He shook his head firmly. "I think radiotherapy was making me very weak and tired, and the fact that I couldn't walk without twisting in pain... I don't know. It wasn't my best moment."

I sniffed. "I'm so sorry that you felt that way, Nico." I lowered down my head, hiding it in the crook of his neck.

"Don't cry, please. This is why I don't like to tell people." He said, caressing my hair.

"If you ever feel that way, just talk to me, okay?"

"Okay."

We lay in silence between the sheets for what felt like hours. The music still played in the background. The warmth of our bodies comforting one another. I stopped crying after a while, my eyes getting tired after it.