Chapter 15: The Moments That Matter

I don't know why, but I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Amir to pull away, like I wasn't enough or like this was all too much too soon. I mean, his past was full of people leaving him. People abandoning him when he needed them most. So I knew that deep down, he had this fear that I'd be just like everyone else.

But I wasn't. I wasn't going anywhere.

That didn't mean it wasn't hard sometimes. Sometimes, I could see it in his eyes—those walls he put up around his heart. It wasn't like he was being rude or pushing me away on purpose. It was like he didn't know how to let me in without risking getting hurt. And that shit broke my heart. But I couldn't rush him. I had to let him come to me when he was ready.

So we took things slow. We didn't put labels on anything, didn't rush into the next step. Sometimes, it felt like we were in a dance, both of us taking turns leading, both of us being careful not to step on each other's toes.

And then, one day, everything felt different. We were hanging out in Amir's room, like we always did. He was sitting on his bed, his headphones on, blasting some music that I wasn't even sure he liked but was probably just something he put on to drown out his thoughts. I was lying across the floor, scrolling through my phone, half listening to whatever was playing in the background.

We didn't talk much when we were together—sometimes we didn't need to—but today something was off. I could feel it in the air, this heaviness that wasn't there before. Something had shifted, and I didn't know what it was yet. But I could see Amir was lost in his own world, his eyes distant, like he was somewhere else entirely.

"Hey," I said, sitting up and glancing at him. "You good?"

He didn't respond right away, just kept staring at whatever was on his phone. I could tell he was thinking about something, but he wasn't ready to talk about it. Not yet.

"Amir," I said again, my voice a little firmer this time. "You alright?"

Finally, he pulled the headphones off, his gaze flicking to me. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... thinking."

I sat up, crossing my legs, and watched him carefully. He always had this way of brushing things off like they weren't a big deal, but I knew him better than that by now.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" I said softly, not wanting to push too hard, but I needed him to know I was there.

He bit his lip, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know, Isaiah. Sometimes I just... feel like I'm not good enough. Like maybe I'm asking for too much by just wanting someone to care. You know?"

My chest tightened at his words, and I moved closer to him, sitting at the edge of his bed. "Amir, don't. You're more than enough. You don't have to be perfect for me, man. You don't have to do anything except be you. And I care. I care about you a lot."

He let out a shaky breath, and I saw the vulnerability in his eyes that he usually tried to hide. It made my heart ache, seeing him like this. I wanted to make him believe me. I wanted to make him believe that he was worthy of love, that he was worth all the time I was giving him.

"I'm not going anywhere, Amir," I said quietly, reaching out and placing my hand on his. "You don't have to push me away. You don't have to be afraid of me leaving."

He looked at my hand, his fingers brushing mine lightly, like he was testing the waters. "But what if you do leave?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if I let you in and you just... walk away like everyone else?"

The rawness in his voice hit me like a punch to the gut. I could hear the fear in his words, the doubt that had been built up over years of people abandoning him.

I wanted to wrap him up in my arms and tell him everything would be okay, but I knew it wasn't that simple. His past had created a kind of armor around his heart, and no matter how much I wanted to break it down, I knew it would take time.

"I'm not like them," I said, my voice steady but full of emotion. "I'm not leaving, Amir. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

He didn't respond right away, but for a moment, there was something in his eyes. Something soft, something that told me maybe—just maybe—he was starting to believe me.

"I'm trying, Isaiah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... don't know how to do this."

"You don't have to know everything right now," I replied gently. "You just have to know that I'm not going anywhere. And we can figure it out together. One day at a time."

He looked down at our hands, then back up at me. "I want to trust you. I really do. I just... don't know how."

I nodded, my heart aching for him. "You don't have to do it alone. You don't have to figure everything out on your own. I'm here, Amir. We're in this together."

And for the first time in a long time, I saw the walls around him crack just a little. He wasn't there yet—not fully—but he was starting to let me in. Starting to let me be the one person who wouldn't hurt him, who wouldn't leave him.

That was all I needed. I didn't need him to be perfect. I just needed him to let me be there for him. Let me love him the way he deserved.