I'm A Stick Beside Him Novels & Stories

“But you, mate, are not staying behind me.” I held his gaze. “You are staying right by my side.” A pause. “Always.” His eyes did not move from mine. “That is the deal.”

He was already trying to step ahead of me, but he stopped himself. And he said, "Walk beside me." I complied. We walked with equally determined strides, but we both carried a familiar tension like a third companion and a ticking bomb. We were stepping into the unknown.

"I'm asking you to stand beside me instead of in front of me all the time. There's a difference, Ethan. One means you trust me to face things with you. The other means you've already decided I can't." He turned my hand over gently in his, tracing his thumb lightly along my knuckles, something thoughtful and careful in the gesture. "Beside you," he repeated slowly, like he was testing the shape of the idea, letting it settle into something he could actually hold onto instead of just agree to in the moment. "Beside me," I confirmed.

“Stay beside me.” I looked at him. “You’ve said that three times.” “I’ll say it a fourth if needed.” I almost smiled despite the nervousness twisting in my stomach. “I’m not going to run.” “I know.” “Then why do you keep reminding me?” His eyes held mine, dark and honest. “Because I’m reminding myself not to put you behind me.” The answer stole whatever teasing reply I had ready. For a moment, we only looked at each other inside the quiet car, with rainwater sliding down the window beside us and danger waiting outside. Then I reached up and fixed the collar of his jacket, though it did not need fixing, just because I suddenly needed to touch him.

Somewhere outside, sirens rose again. Inside, our joined hands were steady. “Good,” I said softly. “I fight better next to you.” “I know,” he answered. And the clock; still counting toward forty-eight, kept ticking.

“Whatever you decide, I will be by your side every step of the way.” He smiled at me miserably, and I knew—I wasn’t the only one fighting combats no one else could see.

“Excuse me?” “I mean it in a nice way,” he said quickly, holding up his hands again. “Not trying to be a jerk. Just… don’t rely on him to carry you. Be someone who can stand beside him. Not behind him.” I didn’t reply, but the words stuck to me like burrs. Not because they were cruel. But because I’d been telling myself the same thing for weeks now. Before I could say anything else, a sharp rustle came from the bushes nearby.

Thinking about how he tried to trick me. "No. Just close your eyes, I cannot do anything as long as this is in front of me." He pointed at the stick, describing it like it was a deadly weapon. He was right, I could control the stick and it would obey. And so I closed my eyes, not loosing all my guards down. "Open."

He came and stood beside her the way he had stood beside her at a hundred windows. Good morning, he said. Good morning, she said. He looked at the February city. What are you thinking about, he said. What stays, she said. The things that have stayed. He looked at the city for a moment. The bowl, he said. The bowl, she said. And Amara. And the shelf I put up myself. The curtain rail, he said. She turned to look at him. You knew about the curtain rail, she said.

“You’re not going to fail. Not with me by your side. We’re in this together.” He squeezes back. “ No, I don't want you to get dragged into this,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with worry. “This isn’t your fight. This is purely between me and him and I know how best to handle him.” I shook my head, as I stepped closer to him, I was an inch close to him, I stared into his eyes as I said. “It’s our fight now. We’re a team, remember? I’m not going to let you face this alone.”