I ran away.
If I hadn't, I would've regretted losing Johan over something stupid.
My chest was pounding as I drove home.
The street stretched out like a slow-motion film.
When I got home, it was quiet... cold.
I didn't turn on the TV. No music, no distractions. I just sat on the floor of my living room, leaning against the couch, a glass of water in my hand, the kitchen lights still on because I was too lazy to get up and turn them off.
I took a deep breath.
And again, his image. Johan's.
Right in front of me. Shaking. Pale. That look of panic, like I was some ghost from his past.
— And maybe I was.
My fingers tightened around the glass.
I've never seen anyone so... armored.
The guy walks like he's got steel plates under his clothes. And even then, he looks at me with a fury that's not meant for me. It's for everyone who came before.
And still... he let me take care of him.
He didn't push me away when I pulled the blanket over him.
Didn't argue when I gave him medicine. He just looked at me like he was bracing for the next hit.
He's not afraid of me. I know that.
He's afraid of feeling something for me.
I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes.
" Let me stay."
" You guys never do."
Those words are still stuck to my skin.
The way he hides his vulnerability behind layers of sarcasm.
That technical gaze, so sharp when watching cameras...
But completely blind when someone genuinely cares.
The way he tried to say "thank you" like he was swallowing broken glass.
I wanted to lie down beside him on that couch yesterday. Just that.
Not to touch him. Not to kiss him. Not to say anything.
Just lie there and let his body understand: "I'm here. I won't disappear by morning."
But I didn't move.
Because if I get too close, he'll pull away.
And I don't want that.
If I push, he cuts.
Johan's the kind of man who runs even from his own desires.
And that scares me a little because...
I do the same.
I spent a whole year in therapy because I don't want to be another version of my father.
And now here I am. On the floor of my house.
Maybe that's why I ran.
I'm scared I'm moving too fast.
When we talked in the lobby, I felt like I'd said too much.
I think he felt it too.
And when I woke up and saw him standing there, looking at me...
I had this overwhelming urge to hold him in my arms.
But yeah, I'm scared.
Scared that that damn urge to kiss him wasn't love. That it was just need. A craving to be seen. To be accepted as someone normal.
But it's not just that, is it?
It's him.
All of him.
My eyes get stuck on the tiniest things.
Johan's light hair, so neatly cut... The way his cheeks flush when I get too close... I don't even think he knows it happens. But it does. And it's adorable.
Even the way he runs his hand through his hair without noticing. Or the way he raises one eyebrow at me after I say something stupid, just to get a reaction...
In front of board members, I don't stutter.
I speak with confidence. Close million-dollar deals without breaking a sweat.
But with Johan... sometimes I forget how to breathe.
Yesterday, when he answered the phone and said "hello" in that half-raspy, half-impatient voice...
I smiled.
I smiled like an idiot. Alone in my room. Sitting on my bed, hugging a pillow like it was going to keep me grounded.
It was pathetic. But it was real.
His voice is like an anchor. Raw. Direct.
The kind that cuts right through you and gives you chills without asking.
Carrying the weight of someone who's not there for small talk, but still picked up. Still listened.
And I stayed silent. For too long.
Because I didn't know how to say " I missed you."
I thought about making up an excuse.
Saying I needed to confirm some technical detail. That I forgot a password. A number. Anything.
But my brain betrayed me and I blurted out:
" I thought I could go the whole day without seeing you. But I was wrong."
He made a joke, of course. But there was something different in that moment.
When he thought I was... doing something because I got quiet, and asked if I was lying down...
For a second, I wanted to lie.
I wanted to say I was naked. Or dreaming about him. Or something stupid like that — stuff I've said before.
But I didn't.
Because I knew he was listening harder than ever.
It was just a phone call.
But it was the first time I felt that he actually wanted to hear my voice.
Like the first time he ever spoke to me — when I was just a weird intern trying to prove something.
I took a deep breath.
This feeling for Johan...
I really tried not to let it grow.
But with every degree, every promotion...
His face would show up.
In the back of my mind.
In some dusty corner of my memory.
And I'd try to erase it.
Because it wasn't right.
It wasn't supposed to be Johan.
But it was.
I want him.
I put myself in this situation.
I convinced him to see me regularly. Became CEO. Changed the company culture. Went to therapy. Faced the shadow of my father. Conquered half my fears. Negotiated the rest with courage.
But Johan...
He's still hiding. Still working in small places, like he's afraid to be seen.
I have doubts. I'm not fully confident.
I've questioned what I feel.
But now... I'm willing.
And that's why I ran after him.
Because if he thinks he deserves to stay hidden...
I'll prove him wrong.
I'll make him believe he can go further. Just like I did.
Even if I have to wait.
Because, unlike everyone else who's come and gone in his life...
— I'll stay. As long as he lets me.