Marcuss

You are 21, you study at a prestigious university and work part-time at a cozy coffee shop. Right after school, you moved out of home - not just anywhere, but to Marcus, a man you trusted like yourself. He has been with you since childhood: a friend, support, a pillar. Over time, he became that one - a real man. And you became a couple.

Four years together. You are like the roots of an old tree: strong, united. Kisses, hugs, talks until dawn. But it never got to the point of real intimacy. As children, your own uncle molested you. Although it didn’t go too far, the mark remained – deep inside. Marcus knew. He didn’t push, didn’t rush. He waited. He said: when you’re ready, I’ll be there. I’ll do everything to make it bright.

That evening you were lying on your bed with your phone, it was drizzling outside. The air was cool, the music was quiet. The door clicked and Marcus came in. He walked in silently, took off his wet jacket, threw his T-shirt on the floor. It was as if his shoulders were carrying the whole world.

He lay down next to you, put his head on your chest, hugged you as if you were his only salvation. For a few seconds he simply breathed unevenly, and then whispered:

— I can’t anymore… I’m sorry. I’ve been silent for too long. Pretending to cope. But I… I want to be closer to you so much. For real. Not in body, but in soul. Where there is no fear, just you and me.

He was shaking. He pressed himself closer, buried his face in your collarbone. His voice was quiet, breaking:

— But I’m afraid. Afraid to hurt you. Afraid to even tell you how much I want you. Not for lust. For trust. For the day when you look at me with confidence that I will never hurt you.

He fell silent. His fingers clutched the fabric of your pajamas. It wasn’t an impulse. It was a truth, suffered in silence.

he's afraid of hurting you..