Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 208

I take a half step back, studying him. The set of his jaw. The quiet tremor in his breath. “You sure you’re fine?” I ask carefully.

He blinks then lets me go. His hand drags through his hair, slow and rough, and he turns away....pacing a short line across the room before lowering himself into the chair in the corner. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed like the weight of it all might crush him if he lifts it too fast. His foot starts tapping against the floor in a restless rhythm that makes it clear he’s losing ground inside himself.

My stomach twists. I stay still, waiting.

When he finally looks up, the words come low and jagged.

“I’m dying to go to The Pit.”

The floor tilts under me. So that’s what this is about....

Disappointment punches through my chest sharp and sudden, but I bite it back before it can show. I nod once, voice calm even though it feels like dragging words through fire. “I told you you could keep going. It’s okay.”

But he’s already shaking his head. His hands are twisting together now, like he’s trying to wring the ache out of them. Watching him like this makes something in me crumble.

Then, quietly....too quietly.... he says, “I won’t.”

I freeze, I think I’ve misheard him. I cautiously step closer. “Why not?”

He looks up at me then, and what I see there nearly stops my heart. That hollow, tired look, like all the light’s been bled out of him. His voice comes next, soaked in something raw and breaking.

“Because I can hardly breathe right now, Xander.” His fingers dig into his knees. “It’s like I’m underwater, I keep trying to come up for air, but the second I do, something drags me right back down.” He exhales shakily, eyes flicking to the floor. “And I just....I need it to stop. I need everything to stop before I lose my fucking mind. And the only way to do that is by doing what you said.... I've gotta stop feeding the place.”

The words sound like confession and collapse all at once. And all I can do is stand there, helpless, watching the man I love unravel.

I walk over before I can think better of it and drop down on one knee beside him. His hands are still desperately twisting together and I catch them just to still them, my fingers slipping over his until they stop trembling.

I’m about to say something when his voice cracks right through me.

“Do you really have to go?” he asks, eyes fixed somewhere past me. “Can’t you just stay?” A beat. Then quieter, smaller, “If you go, Xander.... the worry’s gonna drag me back there.” He swallows hard, jaw tightening. “I can feel it already.”

It guts me. Watching him like this, this man who’s survived every version of hell life’s thrown at him....coming apart because I’m leaving for two damn days. And I hate that part of me wants to do exactly what he’s asking. To say screw the flight, screw everything that isn’t him and the ache in his voice.

I want to stay. To hold him through this wave of darkness and remind him that he’s not alone in it.

But I don’t.

Because that’s not the kind of thing we’re trying to build. That would be giving in to the thing that wants to own him, the irrational fear that keeps pulling him under.

I shake my head slightly, my thumb brushing slow over his hand. “That’s not a solution, Jax.” My voice comes out steady even as it costs me to say it. “If I stay, you’re just surrendering to the thought that something bad’s gonna happen to me, which it won't.”

He doesn’t look up, but his fingers tighten around mine, and I feel the quiet war still raging inside him. The one I can’t fight for him but refuse to walk away from.

He eventually nods, the tight kind that doesn’t quite reach anything real. Then he straightens up, shoulders rolling back like he’s trying to pull himself together, to look okay for me. And I hate that, hate the way he’s pretending for my sake, wearing control like armor that’s already splitting at the seams.

“You’re right. I’m overreacting.” A faint smile, fragile and so obviously false. “You should go. I’ll be fine.”

I don’t buy a single word of it.

And the worst part is, he probably knows I don’t. Because he doesn’t just exist in my world, he tilts it. When he’s like this, it’s all I can see. The rest of life fades out, all of it blurs into nothing. My worry for him pulls, hard and merciless. And the thought of being miles away while he fights this? It’s already clawing at the back of my throat.

He stands then, pushing off the chair, forcing me to rise with him.

“I’ll drop by the apartment,” he says, voice even but distant. “Shower, change... then I'll come back.” The empty way he says it cuts deeper because I know what he’s doing. Trying to make it all sound normal.

He starts walking away, and I can already see the ending to this will be the same one as last time I asked. But I try anyway, because I can’t not.

“Jax,” I call quietly.

He stops halfway to the door. Turns just enough for me to see the tension in his jaw.

“Come with me.”

It slips out softer than I mean it to, a plea disguised as suggestion. My heart lurches forward before logic can drag it back. He turns fully, says my name the way he does when he’s about to break something in me but wants to do it gently.

“Please,” I say, and it comes out barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head with that small, apologetic tilt to his mouth. “I can't. I’d just feel out of place,” he murmurs. “Your family, that world....it’s not mine.”

I take a step closer. “They’re harmless,” I assure him. “And even if not now, you’ll have to meet them eventually.” My voice softens. “I’ll be there. The whole time.”

He studies me for a long beat, eyes shadowed and unreadable. “What's the difference?” he asks. “Between you staying here because you’re worried about me, or me going with you because you’re worried I’ll fall apart if you don’t? Isn’t that the same thing?”

He’s right, I know it. If he comes, it’s my fear being fed this time. But I can’t reason my way out of this. I exhale, the truth catching somewhere between my chest and throat. “There isn’t a difference,” I admit quietly. “I just really want you there.”

His eyes soften like something fragile's breaking through the exhaustion.

“You’d like it there,” I tell him quietly. My gaze drifts to the floor before meeting his again. “I just...” I pause, the words heavy in my mouth. “I want you to be a part of my life. All of it. But if you’re not ready,” I add, voice steady despite the ache behind it, “I get it. Really, I do. It's not a big deal.”

He exhales deeply, then scrubs a hand over his face, dragging it down to his jaw like he’s trying to ground himself. He's quiet for a long while, thinking about something. And when he finally speaks, his voice is rough, like he’s peeling himself open. “I know I'll regret this,” he mutters, gaze dropping to the floor. “But I want you to see I’m trying. Even when it scares the hell out of me and every instinct I have is telling me to run.”

My brow creases, the thought forming before I can stop it. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Then he looks back up at me, and confirms, “If there’s an extra seat on the flight....” He swallows. “I’ll go.”

My lips part and for a second, I genuinely think I’ve imagined it. “You....what? I mean, are you sure?” Part of me wanted to skip the question and just grab the damn miracle he’s offering.

He shakes his head slowly. “No,” he says, a ghost of a smile curving his mouth. “But it’s clear you really want me to.” His eyes soften again. “So I’ll go....for you, Xander.”