Page 115 of You Had Me At Thirteen

Steam hits my face and when my eyes adjust, I find a naked Wren, crouched down on all fours, his head hanging between his shoulders. Deep, violent sobs rack his body as he hyperventilates.

Fuck.

It takes me seconds to reach the shower and climb in, clothes and all, as I reach for him.

‘Til,’ Wren says, his voice cracking. ‘She’s fucking gone.’ When he looks at me, his eyes desperate, tears and hot water streaming down his face, his bottom lip quivering, I almost crack. But I have to stay strong right now. Wren needs me.

‘I know, baby,’ I say, wrapping my arms around him. ‘I’ve got you.’

He drops his head into my lap, his sobs convulsing through him while I cradle his head, letting my own tears fall. His grip on me tightens, his arms strong around my waist while he fists my shirt. But I hold strong as I rock him, letting him scream and sob into my stomach, my own emotions nothing compared to his.

He’s holding onto me like a life raft. Like I’m his rock, his safe place. And I want to be that for him. But I can’t take his pain away. He needs to feel all of it. And I’ll let him, let him feel everything, because he’s closed himself off for so long. He loves with everything he has. I can see that now. His mum was everything, and he loved her with such greatness. His tears are evidence of that.

But I’ll be here with him, picking up the pieces. He’ll know my love. No longer will I let him push me away out of fear. This is it for me.Heis it for me.

When his sobs ease, his grip does too, his breathing shallow, his body drained from the emotional release.

‘Come on, let’s get you dressed,’ I say, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

His body convulses every few seconds as he sucks in the after affects of his emotional release, but finally he nods, so I help him stand, my arm around his waist as I shut off the water. I’m shivering when we step out, but I grab him a towel first, wrapping it around his body, before grabbing one for myself.

‘I’ll get you some dry clothes,’ Wren says before exiting the bathroom.

He comes back moments later with a black t-shirt, so I strip off my wet clothes, replacing them with Wren’s shirt, not worrying I have no underwear. I doubt Wren will be in the mood for sex, anyway.

When I walk into his room, he’s at the end of his bed in nothing but a pair of boxers, his elbows on his knees while his wet hair drips water onto the carpet.

He glances up at me when he senses me, eyes red. ‘Will you stay?’

I search his face. ‘Of course. Whatever you want.’

‘I want you,’ he says, his voice a whisper. ‘I’ve always wanted you.’ His eyes are glassy and he blinks back his tears when I come to sit next to him.

‘I know, baby,’ I say, cupping his face. ‘I want you too.’

He wraps his arms around me again and pulls me down to him. Our lips find each other, but it’s not like our usual kisses. It’s soft, and raw and full of so much emotion.

His love for me pours out of him with just the touch of our lips. Although he hasn’t said he loves me to my face, it’s there, simmering just under the surface.

The kiss only lasts a few moments, before Wren pulls me next to him and wraps us in the covers.

‘Get some sleep. I’ll be right here,’ I say.

He nuzzles into my neck, his wet hair pressed against my cheek. I don’t mind though. Having Wren this close to me again has my skin on fire, but I push away those feelings for now. He needs me in a different way, and I’m going to be here for him no matter what.

He drifts off while I stroke his back, his face softening with each breath, giving me a glimpse of that teenage boy I met all those years ago. The boy with the warm honey-brown eyes, a tinge of green around the pupils.

I’m not sure how long he’s been holding all those emotions in, but I’m glad he let some of it out. And he let me see it all.

When he’s out cold, I peel Wren’s body from mine and climb from the bed. His dirty clothes are spread over the floor, the textbooks lying in a scattered heap as though he was tearing through them. If this is his room, I can’t imagine his insides. Nothing is ever out of place, but I guess he put up a good front. Well, I know he did. I had to fight my way through it just to get a glimpse of what he’s feeling.

As I make my way around his room, listening to his soft snores, picking up the items spread in every direction, I can’t help but feel like this is meant to be. Besides Carla, who would be here to comfort him? His dad was a no-show at his own wife’s funeral. Or ex-wife, I guess. What a dick. Who does that?

Wren’s still asleep when I close the bathroom door, his laundry basket now overflowing. Laundry can wait for now, but I just want to help in any way I can to take the stress off him.

The sliding door to his wardrobe is open, so I walk over to close it, noticing a shoebox sitting on the top shelf with the lid hanging off one side. I know I shouldn’t be sticking my nose in Wren’s things, but I can’t help myself. So I grab the box, bringing it down and kneeling on the floor in front of the wardrobe to inspect its contents. All I see are envelopes, some empty and some stocked full of… money. There has to be thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars sitting in this shitty old shoebox.

‘It was for my mum’s medication,’ Wren says behind me, his voice still full of sleep.

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