Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 216

Love is a strange emotion.

I used to hear people talk about it like it’s this sacred thing, this force that pulls you apart and puts you back together in the same breath. I used to casually hear them say ‘I love you’ and wonder what it was supposed to feel like.

In my head, I figured it was like saying hello, or goodnight. Or like when someone says they’ve missed you but you can tell they don’t really mean it. Just words.....light, harmless and extremely overused. Something people said because silence felt heavier.

I never believed something as fragile as three words could actually ruin a person. That it could bend your world out of shape, strip you of the logic you’ve spent your life clutching onto, or make you ache just because someone smiled at you.

Then I saw Adam and Layla once. The first day I went to pick her up. They were in his office, talking about something I couldn’t hear. And the air around them shifted. Like the room had its own pulse, tuned to theirs. I remember the way Adam looked at her, like every part of him knew where it belonged. And the way she looked back at him, as if she’d found the quietest corner of the world and refused to leave it.

I stood there watching, and for the first time, I wondered.....was that what they called love?

I’d convinced myself I’d never find it.

That kind of feeling. The kind that stripped people raw and left them grateful for the ache. I told myself I wasn’t built for it, and I was fine with that. Or at least, I thought I was.

Now I’m seated here on the sand. The ocean breathes in and out before me, its waves folding over each other like they’ve been rehearsing for centuries. The air smells like salt, it's heavy and almost too alive.

Xander’s beside me. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of him against my arm when the wind shifts. And every time I turn to look at him, it hits me, like something carving into my chest from the inside. This feeling. This impossible, consuming thing.

And now, sitting here, I can say with a kind of quiet certainty that whatever I feel for Xander Devereaux doesn’t just fit inside that word, it eclipses it. It’s selfish. It’s reckless. It’s unbearably human. It’s the kind of feeling that eats through your bones and still leaves you starving for more.

Everything tastes like him lately, even this silence between us. He turns to me then, eyes bright from the sun, and smiles the kind of smile that doesn’t belong to this world.

“I’ve never been to a beach before,” I tell him, voice lower than I mean it to be.

His eyes go wide. “Never?”

I shake my head. “Never.”

He stares for a second, then lets out a soft chuckle that threads through the wind. “In that case, I'm glad your first time was with me.”

I glance back at the water. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, eyes on the horizon. “There’s really nothing like it.”

I pause, something deep inside me folding in on itself. “I can think of a couple better things.”

He turns, that same faint smile tugging at his lips, and the rest of the world fades into the sound of the waves. Maybe it’s the deep, endless blue in front of me that makes everything feel possible. The way the horizon blurs into the sky until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. It feels like the kind of place where the world forgets its rules for a while....where you can breathe without remembering who you’re supposed to be.

Xander’s family is scattered along the beach. His dad is crouched near the waterline, helping Gabriel build something that keeps collapsing every few seconds. His mum and Erin are sitting under the shade of an umbrella, talking with that easy rhythm that comes from knowing someone long enough to argue and still care. Damien’s tossing a frisbee somewhere behind us while Alyssa plays with Heather.

I look at Xander. He’s watching them with this expression that’s almost too soft to bear. There’s something in his eyes, something unspoken and deep. He craves that. I can see it. He craves it so deeply he can’t even hide it.

He catches me watching him and looks back toward the water again, trying for casual. But I can tell he knows I saw it. And I think of myself. Of this selfish, reckless love that’s eating me alive. It’s like standing too close to the fire and pretending the warmth doesn’t hurt.

It makes me think of his patience, the way he waits for me without saying it, without needing to. And it makes me think of the decision I made yesterday. God, that was somehow just yesterday.

The waves roll in and retreat again, I just stare at them. Xander takes out his AirPods and connects them, scrolling for a moment before reaching out. He slips one into my ear without a word, then leans forward slightly, wrapping his arms around his knees, chin resting on them. The wind stirs through his hair, and for a moment, I watch him like I’m seeing him for the first time.

It hits me then, that it doesn’t matter where I am, how far the horizon stretches, or what the world throws at me. None of it matters as long as Xander’s there. As long as we exist like this. His phone sits between us in the sand, I glance at it a few seconds into the song, wanting to brand it into my memory because of how perfectly it fits here, between us, like it was made for this exact moment.

*Angel Baby– Troye Sivan.*

His hand finds mine first, he doesn't squeeze, doesn't even hold. He traces the bracelet first, with a sacred kind of concentration, as if it holds a story only he can read. Then he rests his hand over mine, letting me feel him there.

And all I can think about are the pieces of myself I’ve lost....and all the quiet, devoted ways Xander’s been trying to build them back up. Every gesture, every look, every word.....thought out. Chosen for me.

I swallow hard, the air catching in my throat, and I link our fingers together in the sand. My pulse stumbles. I don’t even know where the courage comes from when I hear myself say, “When do you think I should start?”

He turns his head slightly, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Start what?”

I keep my gaze on the water. “The sessions. Therapy.” My heart stutters and races, like it’s running toward a line I never imagined crossing. Fear coils through me, urging me to pull back, to swallow the words before they escape. But I don’t. I can’t. Something inside me insists on letting them fall, even if it terrifies me.