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Levi asks if he can keep the peace lily at the hospital for the duration of his stay. I agree because it’s a way to allow Levi into this part of my past.

After four weeks, he’s coming home today. I asked if he would come to my home and make it our home. He declined. The change would be too big, he said, but promised to ease us into that transition.

Now, I drive in the direction of his apartment. He sits next to me in the passenger seat with the peace lily on his lap.

Inside the apartment, I make sure the heating is up. Levi is still low. His movements are sluggish. But he’s trying so hard. He drops onto the couch, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. I make him a cup of Earl Gray tea with cream and half a spoon of sugar, take it to him, and switch on the TV to Gotham, season two, episode fifteen.

He manages a smile. I stand in front of him, bending to kiss his forehead gently. He told me earlier that he hasn’t had the energy to bathe the last two days, so I run him a bath.

“Levi?”

He’s too engrossed in the show. He doesn’t hear me. At least he’s finished his tea. I sit next to him. “I ran the bath for you,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “I can’t, Hayden.”

“I’ll do it for you,” I say.

His freckles light up, his face reddening with embarrassment. His lip is bleeding. “You don’t have to bathe me, Hayden.”

I brush my thumb over his bloodied lip, then take his hand and pull him to his feet.

“I want to. And I know you’ll feel better after, even if you don’t think so now.”

He lets me lead him to the bath. I undress him. He apologizes with every piece of clothing I remove. I kiss him for every apology he issues.

I help him into the tub, making sure the water is still warm enough for him. Then, I grab a bottle of shampoo, and, wetting his hair, I work the shampoo into his curls. His shoulders quake.

“You don’t have to cry, Levi,” I whisper. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

“I’m sorry, Hayden,” he says on a choke.

“I know.” Using both hands, I massage his scalp, and then, using the hand shower, I rinse him off, careful not to get any of the suds in his eyes.

Then, I bathe him. My hands glide over his body softly. I’m aware of the impact of my touching on his body. He peers up at me through hooded eyes. He’s turned on, but he’s so exhausted.

I move my hands to his shoulders, rubbing gently, then down his chest, and when I reach between his legs, he’s hard. I take his cock in my hand, jerking him off slowly.

He closes his eyes, tilts his hips, and grips the edge of the bathtub.

“Come, Levi,” I whisper against his cheek. He comes, quiet and powerful. His body sags. Rinsing him off, I help him out of the bath and into his bedroom.

I take my time drying him off, and after getting him to lay down on the bed, I apply cream to his body and then pull on a pair of pajamas. I dry his hair with a blow-dryer, and using a hair tie, I pull his hair into a bun.

The pills he took at the hospital are strong. He’s asleep before I’ve managed to get a t-shirt on him.

Returning to his closet to get a pair of socks, I make sure Nicholas’s suit is out of sight.

I don’t want to take it from him. Levi’s shame is too great. I’ll have to let him return it to me on his own, when he’s ready. Then, he’ll have the right words to say. Words that would make him feel exonerated. Only after that will he be able to let it go. I’ll never forgive myself for not having the courage to ask for it back, before all of this happened.

I spend the night listening to Levi’s soft breathing, reminding myself that as long as we both breathe, there is hope.

And for the first time since Nicholas died, I sleep a deep, dreamless sleep.