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I turn to look at him. “You promised me you wouldn’t run again,” I say instead of an answer.

He looks crestfallen, but nods. “You are right.”

“Why did you run this time?”

For a while, Noel stays quiet, then he sits down on the dusty sofa. “I used to take drugs,” he tells me. “When I was a teen. I… my parents kept sending me to do their dirty business and had me buy their drugs for them. They said a kid would be less suspicious, and they were right.” He pauses. “I made friends.” He laughs bitterly, before repeating the last words and using his fingers to put them under quotation marks. “Obviously, not real friends, just people who wanted to sell stuff to me. I never did the hard drugs, but still, I was pretty deep in, and I guess any longer and I would have been sucked into the life and become my parents.”

My heart sinks for him. I don’t think I can truly imagine how horrible his upbringing and his life really were. He was a child, and instead of being protected, he was abused and taken advantage of. I finally close the distance between us and sit down next to him. “You did what you did to survive,” I tell him while trying to figure out what had triggered him in his talk with Lynn. The puzzle pieces are slowly coming together.

“You lost your last boyfriend to drugs,” he blurts out, his eyes filling with tears.

So, that’s what it was. “Noel—”

“I know what you see when you look at me—”

“Noel,” I interrupt him, this time sharply. “Would you let me get a word in, please?”

He shuts up, but his lips are still quivering.

“I did lose Emil to drugs. I was devastated, but I already told you that losing him was not all that ruined me; it was the toxicity of our relationship altogether. Because no matter what I did, how much I tried, how often I begged, and how much Iwished my love would be the reason for him to at least try, he wouldn’t let me help him. He would pretend to get better, just to take advantage of me and my money, and then fall even deeper. I completely stopped dating after he died, and instead went for guys who weren’t my type at all because I knew they wouldn’t get me hurt.”

“I am your type,” he mutters.

“Yes, and I took the leap for you, because you are honest and very straightforward. You want to know what I see when I look at you? I see a man who had it rough in his childhood, who was parentified and forced to be responsible for an alcoholic mother and an addicted father. He saw his parents rot, and had drugs thrown at him at a young age. He couldn’t help but get into drugs himself. He was forced to steal food for his deadbeat parents. But he got free, and he got clean, and turned his life around completely.”

“It’s just…” he mutters. “I must remind you so much of Emil.”

His words give me a stitch in my chest. This is my fault. I should have told him everything much sooner. Now he found out on his own, spiraled into an anxiety attack, and now, is struggling with his self-doubt. “You do, but not in the way you think you do. You showed me what could have been if Emil had allowed me to help him. If Emil were honest and genuine.” I pause. “Noel, in case it isn’t obvious, you areitfor me. I have never acted around a partner like I have with you.”

“I love you, too,” he says before he lets out a frustrated groan. “And I ran again. I am so sorry. I disappointed you. I promised you I wouldn’t.”

“You didn’t disappoint me, you hurt me, that’s vastly different.”

Noel pales at my words. “How is that any better? I don’t want to hurt you, ever!”

“Because it will happen in any relationship. There will be times you will hurt me, and vice versa. We are just human, and we make mistakes. It doesn’t mean I am disappointed. We only need to learn how to handle the issues we have and how we navigate them to have a healthy relationship.”

Noel pinches his nose. “I need to do better in these situations.”

I put an arm around his shoulder and nod. “We can agree on that. I know you act on instinct when your anxiety kicks in. But itdoestrigger me,” I admit. “There were days when Emil disappeared, and I had to search for him until I’d find him half-dead somewhere. I know you are just retreating to calm down from your anxiety, but in my mind, I already see you being hurt, or worse…”

“I wasn’t aware,” he admits. “I… when my anxiety attacks, I just feel the need to run. Not necessarily away from you, just to run.”

“Okay, I think I understand. But can we at least find a strategy? Something that doesn’t make you run away and hide, and helps me know where you are.”

“You are not going to leave me?!” He looks so scared that it hurts my chest. Maybe this is also part of why he runs in such a situation. He is anxious and lacks trust.

“No, why would I? I don’t like having to chase you like that, because it worries me, but I am not going to leave you for having anxiety attacks.”

“So, what can I do?” he asks.

“Let me hire a therapist for you,withoutarguing with me about money,” I say, noting how he furrows his brows.

“Not fair,” he mutters.

“But this is benefiting both of us,” I point out. “If you want, I can occasionally join you.”

“You would do that?”