“I’d have to throw them all away and get a new box.” Jamie shut the cupboard door with a bang. “But whatever you have to say about that, don’t bother, okay? I don’t need to hear it.”
“Why not? It won’t be any easier tomorrow.”
“You’re going to come back tomorrow after seeing the state of me today?”
“Who said I was leaving in the first place?” Marc watched Jamie empty the kettle of freshly boiled water and rinse it three times before filling it all over again. “I already knew you had OCD, and just because I let you push me away last time we talked about it, doesn’t mean I will now.”
“Why not?”
Marc fought to keep his gaze steady as Jamie threw his own question back in his face. “Because I wasn’t sure last time, and I didn’t know you well enough to force my concern on you. Now, though—”
“Nowwhat?”
Marc shrugged. “I don’t think I can help you by myself, but I can’t ignore the fact that I’m totally fucking in love with you. Is that going to be a problem?”
Jamie opened his mouth. Shut it again. “You love me?”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
Marc laughed. “Why not? Loving you isn’t a bad thing, Jamie... at least, it’s not for me. I wouldn’t be offended if you ran a mile, though. I’ve got my own shit to bring to the table.”
“You’re not a nutter.”
“Neither are you.” Marc’s voice rose. “You’re not well, but you can get treatment, like you did when you got clean. You don’t have to live like this—no one does.”
“Don’t shout at me.”
“I’m not—” Marc stopped as he realised that Jamie had shrunk back from him, flattening himself against the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t mean to get frustrated with you. I just— I want you to get better, for your sake, and I think you can if you get the right treatment.”
He held out his hands. For a long moment, Jamie ignored them, his face frozen in an expression Marc couldn’t decipher.
Then he took Marc’s hands and twined their fingers together so absolutely that it was hard to see where one of them ended and the other began. “Do you really love me?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. Life’s too short for bullshit. You know that.”
“I don’tknowanything; that’s my problem. If I did, I wouldn’t get myself in this state.” Jamie ventured close enough to rest his head on Marc’s chest. His next words were muffled.
Marc released Jamie’s hands and wrapped his arms around him instead. “What was that?”
Jamie glanced up. “I said, ‘I’mtotally fuckingin love with you too,’ and then I died a little bit inside, because I’m half-convinced that I imagined you saying it first.”
“You didn’t. I said it twice, and I’m still shaking.”
“Are you?” Jamie leaned back and squinted at Marc. “I thought that was me.”
“Maybe it’s both of us. Does it matter?”
“I suppose not. Did you actually want some tea?”
Marc shook his head. “Nah, I just wanted to get you out of the bathroom. All that bleach can’t be good for your lungs.”
“You’re the doctor, you tell me.”
“Would you believe me?”
Jamie closed his eyes and seemed as though he might retreat back to the relative safety of Marc’s chest, but then he sighed and opened them again, his gaze clearer than it had been for a while. “I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anybody. You wouldn’t lie to me, even if you thought it would help. Do you really think I can get better?”