The first time I told him "I love you", he yelled at me and stormed out of the apartment, but I didn't mind. I knew that I would have to be patient, and wait for time to heal what I can't.
The second time, he punched me in the face, and was about to shout again, before he apologized under his breath and hid in his room. I could hear him cursing himself and the world from under the blankets, but I never mentioned it to anyone. He went through a lot in that terrible place, and I had to give him space when he needs it to be able to heal.
The third, fourth, and fifth times, he didn't say anything in return. Not while my fingers threaded through his hair, or when I whispered the words against his lips, or as I held him in my arms through a thunderstorm. He stopped and stayed completely still for a few moments each time, as if letting his mind process the words before ignoring them and continuing whatever he had been doing, whether it was watching a movie, or kissing me back, or cowering from the storm. I tried not to lose hope, reminding myself that he had been lied to before and that it would take time for him to believe me.
The sixth time I told him "I love you", he looked away from me, but I could see the faintest trace of a smile in his eyes before he did. That was when I really started to believe that I was getting through to him, and that he was starting to believe me.
The seventh time, he almost said it back. His mouth formed the shapes of the words, but the sounds themselves were locked in his throat. I told him not to worry about it too much, that I understand and I won't force him to do or say anything he doesn't want to. He looked ashamed of himself, but I couldn't help but feel a bit proud that he was at least trying.
The eighth time I said it, he snapped. He screamed at me to stop saying those words because it was just a lie. He said I only loved the idea of trying to fix him like I did with the stray animals that I had found before him and that I would just forget about him like everyone else and leave him alone again. I didn't try to correct him then, just letting him get the anger out of his body and heart.
He disappeared for a couple days after the eighth time, but I eventually found him laying in the same alleyway where I first laid eyes on him. I carried him back again, and for the ninth time said "I love you." He stared at me in disbelief before breaking down. His fists pounded against my chest repeatedly, calling me an idiot, a freak, impossible. I ignored the dull physical pain and hugged him against my body until his sobs quieted and his hands clutched the front of my coat, desperate for something to hold onto.
The tenth time, he hid his face in my shoulder and hugged me close. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but I could still hear when he finally said those same words back to me, with a nice little 'too' at the end. I hope one day I'll be able to be the one who adds that word on the end though.