Seb had always been weird about touch. He never held my hand and when we kissed, he’d pull out an antibacterial wipe.
We never had sex.
Every time we tried, Seb would break down, saying that physical contact with me hurt him. Eventually, he opened up about his first relationship in eighth grade, with a girl who didn’t respect boundaries.
Over time, I got used to it.
Seb was worth it.
He was awkward in a way that made me fall for him.
Seb started therapy, and slowly, because things don’t just change overnight, he began tangling his fingers with mine, even if only for a second. We came up with an alternative for touching. Blowing kisses at each other kept us closer.
There was an out of state clinic that specialised in Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
Seb was driving, and I was trying and failing to direct via Google Maps.
The next thing I knew, we were being run off the road by an eight-wheeler.
I remember blood. I remember screaming, half conscious.
Seb wasn't moving, his head lodged against the steering wheel.
I woke up in a brightly lit room. Flowers bloomed next to me.
Hospital.
“Seb.” I croaked, trying to wrench out my IV. “Where's my husband?”
“I’m here.” A shadow loomed over me, and part of me felt like it was splitting apart.
I started sobbing. Seb, with that stupid smile. His head was bandaged, bruises flowering under his eye. but he was okay. Seb greeted me with a soft kiss on the forehead. His lips were warm. Home.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling my weak body into a hug. I had never been so close to him.
He felt like a puzzle piece that slotted perfectly into me. I swallowed my sobs and hugged him back, squeezing him to my chest.
When we were discharged, we went home.
Immediately, Seb was all over me, kissing my neck, his hand down my shirt, and I was so touch-starved that I dragged him upstairs to bed.
I was half-asleep when he rolled over, his breath warm against my ear. “Do you know what cancer feels like, babe?”
I didn't respond, and he sighed. “Like razor blades in my blood.”
“You don't have cancer,” I mumbled.
I felt him move closer, pinning me to the bed. “I don't anymore.”
My eyes snapped open, as his lips ran down my spine in a giggle.
“Do you know what filthy cash can get you, Melody?”
He traced my back. “An escape from cancer.”
His voice darkened, “an escape from a broken body, and a brand new one. Brain dead, yes, but that's what I'm here for.” He hummed, wrapping his arms around me. “Your husband’s body is perfect. Unbroken. I can walk! I can fucking *breathe*.”
Seb rolled onto his back and laughed. “I think I’m going to keep him!”
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