Heal the Heart

50.

Glaring at my problem made no difference. Neither did closing my eyes and willing it to go away. I stood up, wiggled out of my boxers, and kicked the drenched fabric to the side. Maybe some freezing cold water would help, because in no way was I about to rub one out in Beck's bathroom. I was already low in the self-respect department and didn't need to further reduce whatever dwindling amount I had left.

The showerhead spouted warm water right into my face when I hopped slightly toward the panel. It was a knob sort of control in which the white pointy thing was dead center between the red and blue stickers. I tried twisting it towards blue, but it wouldn't budge thanks to the cast protector. The plastic just slipped and slid over the steel knob. Who the hell designed these things?

I inched forward and tried to turn it with my elbow, applying full pressure on it. The knob turned alright, but along with it, my foot skidded on the slippery floor and I fell face first into the wall.

The dizziness was back, and I couldn't say if it was the water getting into my eyes or my own tears that made everything blurry.

The door slammed open. "Shit," Beck hissed, and the water stopped pouring over me.

Beck lifted me by the armpits and put me on the bench. I was shaking violently, and by now, I was done trying to protect my integrity. Clearly, I had none left. I couldn't even shower in peace without embarrassing myself. Beck crouched in front of me, placing a hand on my knee.

"Neil, darling, why are you crying?"

Was I? I went to swipe at my eyes for only a fistful of wet plastic to enter my nose. "What the—Get these fucking things off me."

Beck patiently helped remove the damned protectors and set them aside. He had put on a t-shirt, which was also thoroughly drenched. "Better?"

I scoffed. "Sure, me sitting here like a fucking cripple is so much better." The hateful words tasted bitter on my tongue. I sounded like my patients at the rehab centre, the very ones to whom I preached about positivity and determination. Yeah, where was the positivity and determination now? I sniffled. "I don't like you seeing me this way."

On the bright side—since things seemed to get drearier by the minute—my problem was gone. Speaking of problem, I slyly snuck a glance at Beck's crotch, and I wanted to kill myself for the heaviness settling in my gut at the lack of reaction there.

"I must look real sexy, huh?" Another wave of humiliation passed through me at the way those words came across. I was a mess. Beck should've opened his eyes and seen that by now. I thought I'd have to put up a fight for leaving his place, but maybe that wasn't required anymore. He'd probably willingly let me go, thankful for the riddance.

"You have no idea how much I'm controlling myself right now," he said, and brought a hand to my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "I finally have you in my arms, and I want to properly show you how much I missed you. I want to love you for all the years we missed—"

"Whose fault is that?"

"Mine. I admit it, and I know that no matter what I do, I'll never deserve your forgiveness for the way I left you."

"The way you left me," I repeated. A pang hit my chest as I realised. "But not for leaving."

He sighed, and it took everything in me to not deck him with a showerhead right there.

"Neil—"

I laughed, but there was no mirth to it. "You are one selfish man, Christopher Beckett." This was probably the worst time to be having this discussion. My body wasn't alone in its nakedness. My emotions and vulnerability were on full display, too, and Beck could see just how deeply my wounds ran. "Tell me one thing. Did you know we would never make it? Did you know that our... That what we had was just temporary?"