I dragged myself off the couch, suddenly unable to stand the heat of the leather and the light above me. I was back in my body, and I regretted it the second I realized how useless that truly was.
I steadied my feet as well as I could and I talked to myself encouragingly as I tried to drag myself into my bedroom.
One step, two steps, three steps, stay in your body, keep your mind strong, keep the demons at bay. and just… Keep. Fucking. Moving.
I needed to get my meds, the tranquilizers I took just in case things got as bad as they were in that moment. I distinctly remembered the bright orange-tinted, translucent bottle of the horse-sized meds on my nightstand. I just needed to get there. The second I took the pill, I would feel alright again. I would be safe. I would be okay. Even if just for a little while.
But putting one foot in front of the other was a fucking ordeal. A task so ridiculously hard it felt like I was trying to climb Mount Everest. My arms and legs were shaking, and I was terrified of everything, every sound and tremble magnified until my head was left ringing and pounding in their wake.
Finally, I reached the threshold of my bedroom. I stumbled inside, the rumpled sheets reminding me of the one in her room, her body pressed close to mine. I realized with a huff how badly I needed her. How much I wanted her to be there with me. I was desperate for it, clinging to the idea of her, the thought of her lashes on her cheeks, every single one pronounced, dark and thick against her skin. That image ingrained itself in my mind until I could think of nothing else, obsessed with the idea of her, the girl the only thing keeping me from falling into the precipice I was standing in front of.
“Please help me,” I said.
But my legs refused to keep moving and I collapsed like a tree coming down, my limbs banging the floor. This was what I hated most about my condition, the bone-crippling anxiety and panic attacks that could happen at any minute. I’d felt this one coming, but sometimes they came completely out of the blue and made me feel like a perfectly capable man living in a body that just wouldn’t fucking work.
I sat on the floor with my back against the hardwood and forced myself to keep breathing, knowing that if I stopped I’d start to lose consciousness. It was all I could do, the only thing I could focus on. There was nothing else but the rise and fall of my chest, the swelling of my heart and the panicked gasps of air as I struggled to stay in my body yet again.
I wanted to scream, but no sound came out, reminding me of the nightmarish dreams I’d had as a child. I was afraid, so fucking afraid now, and all I wanted was for the girl whose name I couldn’t remember to come and help me.
In my mind, I convinced myself that it would all be alright as long as she reappeared, with her bright smile and bubblegum lips and her sparkling eyes. As long as she was around and looking out for me I would be perfectly alright. But she was gone, fucking gone, and I was on my own.
I couldn’t move, my body refusing to do what my mind was trying to tell it to. I saw my life flash before my eyes, feeling like I was going to meet my end right there, on the floor of my own bedroom. It felt like I was dying and even smelled like death as I raised my eyes and realized I’d left the small room open, the stench and the trash spilling out into the hallway.
Groaning, I tried to focus on something, any-fucking-thing to take my mind of the horrible tightness in my chest. But it wouldn’t work, and there was nothing left to do but wait for it to be over. I tried to remind myself that it would end, like these things usually did, in a couple of minutes. It didn’t help the way I felt though, like a fucking failure.
What kind of man couldn’t even go outside to help a woman out without collapsing back at home?
What kind of man was so afraid, such a fucking pussy, he couldn’t even handle an everyday activity for every other person?
What kind of fucking man was I, if I was a man at all?
The deep hatred I felt for myself burned through me like a vicious fire, but I couldn’t stop it. The flames spread, licking tentatively at my ankles before engulfing me in ash and smoke. I was a mess, a fucking mess, and Bebe didn’t deserve me.
Bebe.
Bebe.
I remembered her name… Her sweet, beautiful name that fit her so perfectly.
I felt tears in the corners of my eyes as I came to a realization.
The only thing for me to do was to get the fuck lost. Get as far away from her as possible before I fucked up her life in all the ways I’d fucked up my own. I needed to get away, needed to breathe. Needed to let her live her life so I could waste mine on bleach baths and throwaway sex.
I picked myself up with tremendous effort and walked to my closet. I got out a suitcase, one I’d bought years ago in the hopes that the purchase would encourage me to go on a vacation. Fat fucking chance of that happening.
One thing was still true though—Bebe would be better off without me. And for once, that suitcase would finally come in handy. I’d walk away from her, walk away from the mess I made her into.
Knowing I’d never forgive myself for it, I started packing. But a lifetime of hating myself was better than years of ruining Bebe’s life, until she finally realized just how miserable she was with me. She may not have known it yet, but she didn’t want me in her life. And I’d be the one responsible for cleansing her of my mess.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered to myself as I started packing. “I’m sorry, Bebe, I’m sorry for hurting you.”
My words renewed my energy and I packed with anger and vigor, hating myself every step of the way. Leaving her would break me completely, and I knew the moment I left the apartment I’d never be able to make a human connection again. Bebe had fucking ruined me, but I needed to get the hell away before I did the same to her.
I’d send someone for the rest of the stuff, but for now, I had enough. With trembling hands, I sent a text to Meyers, the PI, with instructions. I put my suitcase on the floor and filled a big glass with water, drinking it in long, shaky gulps.
It was time to say goodbye once and for all. And once she understood—once some time had passed—Bebe would know I’d made the right call. Leaving her alone was the only option that made sense, the only way she’d have peace in her own life.
It was time to leave. Time to walk out of her life.
Grabbing my suitcase, I turned around to walk out the door, only then noticing the figure standing in the room.
“Bebe,” I whispered, and she stared at me, her eyes blank and then filling with hurt as she watched me.
She took a step back, then another one.
“I’m sorry,” I admitted brokenly, but she merely shook her head.
Kilig, noun
Butterflies in one’s stomach.
It was impossible to believe what I was seeing.
The man who’d held me in his arms only hours ago was standing in his own apartment, his fingers gripping a suitcase, ready to fucking leave. It was clear as day this was about me, clear as my own fucking reflection in the mirror that he wanted to get the fuck away from me, and I hated him for it.
“Please,” I said pathetically, my voice breaking. “Miles, please, what are you doing?”
He stood in the middle of the room, staring at me and unable to say a thing. I hated him for it, for not replying to me and for pretending like this wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done to me. Worse even than the two men he’d sent over to fuck me relentlessly, worse than the games he’d been playing with me for weeks. This was the moment he was going to break me, and he was going to make me handle it all on my own.
I raised my accusatory gaze to him, and we locked eyes. I saw so many things in his eyes, so many things I’d never seen before. But none of them made me understand what he was doing, and my blood boiled with anger and fear.
It took less than a second to reach him, and my fists pummeled into his chest, angrily smashing against him as I cursed him out, hating him for everything he’d put me through. It was plainly obvious now I should’ve walked away a l
ong time ago, but as much as I wanted to hate myself for not doing it, I fucking couldn’t. I was addicted to Miles, punch-drunk on my love for him, the love he so obviously didn’t have for me.
“Bebe,” he said brokenly.
He wasn’t even fucking trying to defend himself, knowing full well how shitty this was.
“Were you just going to walk out?” I screamed in his face. “You were just going to leave me here, weren’t you? Without explaining a single thing, you fucking bastard!”
I felt the tears slipping down my heated cheeks, but I refused to acknowledge them, instead just pummeling his chest again and again until he groaned, still not even attempting to stop me or touch me.
“Defend yourself!” I screamed at him, now feeling like a banshee, wanting to tear him to fucking pieces. “At least tell me why you’re doing this, Miles! Why are you fucking doing this to me? How could you even do this to me?”
He didn’t even try to deny it. Just swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did, and glared at me with feelings in his eyes I couldn’t explain.
To me, it felt like I’d just taken care of one broken aspect of my life, only to have the other one broken and shattered into pieces. Miles looked away from me as if he couldn’t even handle looking into my eyes, and I hated him with every fiber of my body. I knew one thing though—I wasn’t going to leave that building without an explanation.
I stared at him until he finally raised his eyes to mine, and when he did, I suddenly understood everything.
I’d never seen pain like that before. Obvious, fucking heart-breaking pain that threatened to pull us both apart with its intensity. I wanted to ask him why it was there, who’d made him feel that way, but I was too fucking scared to ask any questions. I just wanted to make sure he was alright.
His eyes spoke of a hurt I’d never known until we lost Posy. He’d lost someone too, and I was only seeing that now, only understanding in that moment that he was even more alone in the world than I was. He had no one but me, and now he was running from that too.
“Miles,” I breathed, the word coming out jagged and scared. “Miles, don’t go.”
He let out something between a growl and a moan when I touched the side of his face, my fingers caressing his cheek and gently touching his brow, wiping away the hint of moisture at his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you, Miles.”
“You…” he started, but his words trailed off into nothing.
“I’m going to help,” I promised him. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay. And if you still feel like this, if you still want to leave by the time I make sure you’re alright, I’ll let you go. I promise I will, okay? Okay, Miles?”
He didn’t react, his eyes going glassy and shining with a fear I didn’t recognize.
“I love you,” I told him, and then I kept repeating it.
As I pried the badly-packed suitcase from his fingers, gently letting it down on the floor and pushing it out of his view, I could see what was been in there, a random assortment of things that told me he hadn’t planned this, that he’d let his own panic take over and pack anything and everything he could get his hands on in a mad rush.
I kissed the side of his mouth, my lips gentle and promising him it would all be alright as I led him to the couch, sat him down and poured him a big glass of water.
And finally, I kneeled down next to him and took his hand in my own, telling him I’d stay, no matter what.
But he wasn’t there anymore, and I felt like I was alone in the room. His body was just an empty shell, his mind miles away.
“Is there anyone I can call?” I asked him. “Anyone who can help me… help us? To make sure you’re alright?”
“Pills,” he muttered. “Pills.”
“Pills?” I repeated, my eyes confused, then finally realizing what he meant. “Are you meant to take a pill? I’ll get them, just tell me where they are, okay?”
I squeezed his hand for comfort, and he nodded absently, unable to so much as look into my eyes.
“N-nightstand,” he muttered.
I jumped to my feet and ran into his bedroom, rummaging through his nightstand. I found a bottle of meds and pried it open, my shaky fingers spilling the bright white pills all over the floor. I cried out in exasperation and dropped down my knees, picking up one of the pills and racing back into the living room.
For a second, I was deathly afraid he wouldn’t be there anymore, thinking maybe he’d just grabbed his suitcase and walked the hell out of my life like he’d meant to do only a few minutes ago. But when I saw him sitting in the very same spot I’d left him in, my heart ached at the thought. I filled up his water again and brought the glass to him along with the pill. He looked at me helplessly, and I realized he was so messed up he probably couldn’t even hold the glass by himself.
“Here,” I muttered. “I’ll help.”
I tipped his head back, opened his mouth. He followed my motions robotically, and I placed the white pill on the tip of his tongue, being sharply reminded of the contrast between the pills I liked and the ones he was forced to take. It felt unfair to even think of the drugs I took when Miles was suffering through all of this.
He swallowed, and I tipped the glass into his mouth. I watched the stubble on his Adam’s apple as he took a deep swig of the liquid, and smiled encouragingly at him.
“W-what now?” he asked with a jagged edge to his voice, and once again, my heart broke for him.
“Is there someone I could call?” I asked. “Is there someone to talk to? Like a family member?”
He shook his head no and I bit my bottom lip nervously.
“Maybe a friend?”
Another slight shake of his head. This was upsetting him, and now I felt even more nervous and scared.
“What about a doctor? Maybe a therapist you’ve been talking to? Anyone like that?”
“Y-yes,” he managed to get out. “Dr. Halen. My phone. Her number… it-it’s in there.”
He handed me his phone with shaky fingers and I touched my own to his hand in what I hoped was a reassuring caress. Then, I scrolled through his contacts until I found the doctor’s information. I dialed her number without hesitation, even though it was the middle of the night.
The doctor answered quickly, her tone filled with concern and something else I didn’t very much like. It was hard to miss the affection in her voice. The fear that she felt something for Miles filled me with dread.
“Yes, Miles. Is everything alright?”
“Hello,” I said awkwardly. “It’s… My name is Bebe. I’m Miles’… He’s not feeling well.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked promptly. “He hasn’t overdosed?”
“No,” I answered after a short pause, my heart filling with even more fear.
Surely that wasn’t even an option. Surely my mountain of a man would never think of hurting himself in that way?
“He’s not feeling well?” she went on, urging me to continue.
“He isn’t,” I said. “I gave him a pill—a large white one from an orange bottle. He said he uses them in emergencies.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Xanax. It should kick in soon. Are you with him?”
“I am,” I said, sneaking a glance at him.
His face was panicked and etched with worry, but his breathing had eased a little, and I was grateful when the wheezing sound disappeared completely. I would do whatever it took to get him better, I decided on the spot. I couldn’t handle him being in pain any longer.
“I want you to stay until he calms down,” Dr. Halen went on. “Please, for my sake if no one else’s. I need to know he’s alright.”
“I will, of course,” I promised, jealousy cutting through me like a knife. “Would it help to get him into bed? Maybe a shower? A bath?”
“No,” she said with sudden urgency in her voice. “No baths. You do know about his habit, don’t you?”
My silen
ce must’ve answered the question for her, and she sighed warily before going on.
“Who are you?” she asked, and I sat down next to Miles, putting her on speaker. “I need to know your relationship with my client. Will you be able to handle the situation, or would you like me to drive up to the city? I could be there in twenty minutes.”
“I’m staying,” I replied firmly. I wasn’t going to back down now. “He’s my responsibility tonight.”
And as far as I was concerned, until my very last breath. I didn’t say it, but I hoped it was obvious from the tone of my voice.
“Alright,” she said. “But what is your relationship?”
A silence fell upon the room until Miles grunted as if waking up from a slumber.
“Mine,” he growled. “She’s mine.”
His words made my heart ache. And I didn’t confirm nor deny what he’d said, instead pulling him into my lap and settling his head between my knees. He looked up at me as I held the phone in one hand and stroked him with the other, gently easing him into a sense of security.
“Okay,” Halen replied primly. “That’s good. Please stay with him tonight. Make sure he’s breathing well, and do not let him take another pill for eight hours. If anything goes wrong, call me. Will you be able to handle this, Bebe?”
My name on her lips felt like a strange little intimacy, but I gave Miles a brave smile as I nodded.
“I will,” I promised. “I’ll call you in the morning with an update.”
“I’d appreciate that,” she said. “Good luck, Bebe. Good luck, Miles.”
She cut the call and we lay on the couch together.
“Just breathe,” I told him gently. “And everything will be perfectly alright.”
He turned his beautiful, soulful eyes onto mine, and nodded.
With a start, I realized he believed me.
Now it was up to me to stay true to my word.
Saudade, noun
The love that remains after a person is gone.
The minutes were ticking by painfully slowly, and I was consumed with guilt for making Bebe go through this shit with me.
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