Don't Give Up (On Me)

“Alright, so we’re going to take you off of the Prozac and put you on something called Xanax.” Dr. Adams explained, as we sat in front of his desk in his office.

After the appointment, I was going to head to work and John would head home. I could have had the rest of the day off because there really wasn’t a lot for me to do at work, but I just honestly couldn’t be around him for much longer.

We hadn’t spoken about last night at all, which I knew was extremely unhealthy for our relationship. When we got home, I headed straight upstairs and went to bed almost immediately after showering to get rid of the beer smell. John fell into bed after an hour or two, the new smell of Jack Daniels suffocating me. After I’d told him not to drink at Kenny’s, he drank even more when we got home. He didn’t even say anything about it to me, and was still under the impression that I didn’t know.

“Will it give me the same symptoms?” John asked; his voice raspy from his hangover. His eyes weren’t red so I’m guessing Dr. Adams couldn’t tell, but I sure as hell could.

“Well that’s the thing, it may or it may not. If this medication doesn’t work, we’ll have to move on to a type of medication that you have to inject into your thigh, and that medication only has one or two possible symptoms.” He explained, as he wrote out John’s prescription.

“Alright,” John nodded, too tired to ask any more questions. I however, was not.

“Also,” I spoke up, receiving glares from John, “he’s not really supposed to drink, is he?”

Dr. Adams looked over at John, and the look of realization finally set in. “Not preferably. It can throw your medication out of wack. I understand you just got back from a tour?”

John nodded in response.

“And you were drinking on tour?”

John sighed and nodded once more. “Yeah; every few days.”

“That’s what’s probably lead to the intense stomach pains you received last week,” Dr. Adams explained, “I advise that from now on you don’t drink-“

“So what, I can never drink again?” John frowned, clearly looking at it from the ‘I’m-never-getting-better’ perspective.

“Until you’re off medication, I’m afraid not.”

“Well fuck it, I don’t want medication,” John scoffed, sitting back and crossing his arms.

“John,” I hissed, shoving his arm. I can’t believe he was being like this in front of his doctor.

“I’d say it’s about time we moved on to the next phase of the therapy, by the looks of things,” Dr. Adams started, ignoring John’s previous comment. “I have a specialist that you can see once a week, in order to work on the emotional and mental side of the condition.”

“What, like a shrink?” John frowned.

“A therapist, yes.” Dr. Adams nodded, “it’ll help, and could get you off of the medication sooner rather than later.”

“That sounds good, babe,” I told John encouragingly.

He ignored my comment and moved his arm when I tried to touch him.

“And also, there’s this relationship counselor that might be worth your time,” Dr. Adams threw in, looking at the both of us.

My head snapped towards him, kind of surprised. “Excuse me?”

“The tension between you two is extremely obvious. An unhealthy romantic relationship won’t bring any progress to John’s case of depression. It may be in your best interest to see her.” Dr. Adams suggested.

“We don’t need-“

“We could talk to her about that ‘issue’,” John said to me sarcastically, tormenting me.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, “it’s the medication, just leave it John.” I sighed, clearly pissed off.

“The medication is causing another symptom?” Dr. Adams asked.

I know he was a doctor, but he was a thirty-two year old, attractive doctor. I didn’t want to talk about this kind of thing with him no matter how much I trusted him. “It’s not a big deal.” I insisted.

John turned to him. “The medication is stopping me from having sex with her.”

The way he said it made me want to dig my own grave and just drop dead inside of it. He was doing this to get back at me for last night, there was no other reason as to why he would bring this sort of thing up with his doctor.

“I see,” Dr. Adams nodded, a little taken back, but still completely professional about it. “As in a lack of sex drive?”

“Sort of…” John frowned, “but like, I want to, I just…can’t.”

I blushed, dropping my head to my hands. “It’s just the medication-“

“Sometimes the medication can affect sexual performance to the point where it’s just not possible for men to use their genitals.”

Oh my god. We were not actually having this conversation.

“That’s exactly the issue,” John stated, throwing me a shit-eating look, “I can’t take anything for it, can I?”

“Wouldn’t be worth it,” I scoffed under my breath.

Dr. Adams shook his head, “It’s extremely dangerous to take Viagra with other medication. I suggest you try out this medication first and if the problem arises again, we’ll look into it further.”
No we will not.

The rest of the meeting stayed awkward and when we left, we left with John’s new prescription for Xanax and a booking with a therapist. Neither new adjustments was he looking forward to.

“That’s what happens when you act like a fucking jerk,” I almost yelled at him as I drove to work.

“Right, fuck me for taking initiative.” He scoffed, crossing his arms.

“The way you brought it up was humiliating!” I snapped, “The way you said it’s ‘stopping’ you from having ‘sex with her’, my god John!”

“What?! It is stopping me-“

“It’s stopping US!” I yelled, punching him in the shoulder, “you say it like you’re the fucking boss of me!”

“Oh like you don’t try to act like the boss of me,” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Last night? In front of everyone?!”

“Oh well you sure put me in my place when you threw your beer all over me!”

The way his face faltered, told me that he didn’t remember a lot from last night. I did not need to start a fight before work. That could wait until we were calm enough to talk about it like humane people.

“I…I threw my beer over you?” He asked, his voice a lot more vulnerable. Cue the mood swing.

I nodded, un-sympathetically. “Yes, in front of everybody- I don’t know how you don’t remember that.”

“Medication does weird things,” he mumbled quietly to himself.

“Oh like that Jack Daniels you drank after we got home, while I was in the shower?” I scoffed, “After we just fought about you drinking?”

He looked away in shame. “Shut up-“

“Don’t talk to me like that,” I said firmly, finally taking a stand for myself, “the fact that you have depression doesn’t mean you can treat me like shit, do you understand?”

He looked taken back at that. “Y-yeah,” He mumbled flatly, “Just stop talking to me. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“We’re talking about it when I get home,” I warned, pulling up in the parking lot of the warehouse.

Thankfully someone had taken the initiative to bring their keys so they weren’t all waiting for me outside. It was nine o’clock now, considering that appointment had taken longer than expected.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, getting out of the car as I did in order to switch drivers. I began to walk away without a single word of goodbye before he grabbed my arm and pulled me into him, kissing me softly on the lips. “I love you, Leighton.” He whispered softly, “I’m sorry I’m like this, but I love you so much.”

I pulled away slightly in order to bite my lip to stop the tears from filling my eyes. Times like these, no matter how much anger I had for him, it slipped away when I felt his vulnerability. It broke my heart how much he was hurting. There was asshole John depression, and the vulnerable John depression. Like I’ve said before, the transition of his mood is confusing yet astonishing.

“I love you too,” I murmured, “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Will do baby,” he nodded, kissing me again quickly before getting into his car. I watched him drive away before heading inside. Sometimes I got nervous about him driving. Today was one of those times.

I took a deep breath before heading towards the warehouse.

We’re gonna be okay.

***

“All designs are done.”

I looked up to see Tate standing in the doorway with the merch file that had gone missing from my
office before I arrived. I knew I should’ve just asked out if anyone had it. “Oh that’s great, I’ll call Tim and let him know.” I nodded gratefully. “We’re gonna spend the rest of the day packaging orders and what not. We’ll be shipping out next week.”

“Shit, that’s a lot of orders.” Tate groaned, “We’ve gotten over a thousand pre-orders already.”

My eyes widened at the amount of work now piled onto our plates. “We won’t be able to get the stock until Wednesday, so we’ll be packaging through to next week,” I mumbled, calculating in my head just how long this was going to take us. “Shit, exactly what I need.” I sighed, dropping my head into my hand.

Tate gave me a sympathetic look. “I can’t believe what happened last night,” she mumbled, “I’ve never seen him crack like that before.”

“The alcohol and medication messes with his brain when it’s taken together,” I explained, “he never would have done that otherwise.”

“Well at least he apologized, than.” Tate nodded, only coming to a stop when I couldn’t confirm that.
“He hasn’t apologized yet?”

“He didn’t even remember until after his appointment this morning,” I shrugged, “We’re gonna have a talk tonight.”

“You…you make sure he apologizes to you, Leighton,” Tate sighed, “him hurting you isn’t on.”

“He doesn’t hurt me, it was a one off,” I insisted, not wanting her to get the wrong idea and take it to Garrett, who seemed beyond mad last night.

“Yeah? Then why is your hand like that?” She asked, before pausing at a sudden realization, “his hand was exactly the same. Tell me you’re not in one of those twisted relationships where you’re bother just hurting eachother-“

Well, not physically.

“Of course not,” I scoffed, sending her a look, “you really think I’m one of those weird ass kinky girls?”

“Oh okay I did not mean in the bedroom,” she said immediately, almost turning green at the thought apparently, “I mean, he can’t even get it up so-“

“Tate!” I scolded, my cheeks turning red, “Okay, you can leave now, I have to call Tim.”

“You’re no fun,” she pouted, before heading back out to the offices, “We’re all heading off soon!”

I rolled my eyes before picking up the phone and pressing ‘1’ for Tim’s office. It rang a few times before he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey it’s Leighton,” I greeted, sitting back in my chair.

“Oh hey girl, how are you?” He asked, his voice kind of deflating towards the end, dripping in sympathy.

I rolled my eyes once more in annoyance. I hated sympathy and a lot of people knew that yet chose to ignore it anyway it seemed. “I’m fine, Tim,” I sighed in frustration.

“Alright, alright,” Tim stopped quickly, “I just…y’know, he threw his beer at you.”

“Pretty sure I remember that,” I mumbled, before flipping through the merch file Tate had left on my desk a few minutes earlier.

“Alright I’m backing off now,” Tim relieved, “So, I guess you’re calling because the designs are all good to go?”

“They are indeed,” I nodded, thankful they were done. “We’re ready for printing.”

“Fantastic, just send ‘em through and I’ll have them to the printers tonight and you should get the load in on…”

“Wednesday,” I filled in quickly, writing it down on my desk organizer. I flipped over to next week and my eyes widened when I saw John’s name fall on the Thursday, for his twenty fifth birthday. I had no idea what I was going to get him, or what we’d do for his birthday. I had no idea what he wanted-

“You still with me, Lei?”

I snapped back into reality, which was a phone call with Tim. “Oh shit, sorry, what were you saying?”
I asked, blushing slightly.

The one person that was always on my mind.

“Stock will be ready on Wednesday, but for now, I guess just get packaging ready for shipping out next week,” Tim suggested, knowing I had already planned everything out. I was controlling, like that.

“No problem, boss,” I nodded, “I’ll get Lennon to email you the final designs.”

“Alright, look forward to seeing them. I’ll catch you later, Leighton.”

“Will do, Tim, bye,” with that we hung up and my mind wondered back to John’s birthday. Then back to John himself, wondering whether or not we’d actually talk tonight or what was going to happen.
I didn’t even know what to expect tonight. I didn’t know whether to expect a completely calm boyfriend, or someone I didn’t know raging inside my boyfriend. You never knew with John these days, and it really wasn’t his fault.

But…it wasn’t mine either, and that’s the thing- I didn’t deserve all of these beatings he couldn’t help but give me. It was emotionally draining wondering whether or not he was going to get out of bed every morning. Splitting his medication into those long MTWTFSS containers at the start of every week, that was a chore. We were running out of supplies in the first aid kit after all of his unplanned physical lash outs on our property. I was so tired and upset over being seen as the bad guys through his loving green eyes that had lost that love and had now turned grey.

I was so tired of it all.
So completely tired that I literally fell asleep that afternoon at my desk, letting the thoughts of my relationship with John run loose in my mind- to be honest, it was like a nightmare. I never realized how messy our relationship was. I had no idea why he was depressed. I don’t know why he fell out with his family, what got him drunk in the first place. I don’t know what triggered the episode six months ago. There was so many secrets on his side and it broke my heart that he felt he couldn’t share them with me.

I’ve been saying that a lot, actually. So much so that my heart can’t possibly be anymore broken than it already is. Wow, I should write that in one of John’s song books, maybe help him with the process that’ll only turn him into a nervous wreck once more. Was it so hard to believe where I was coming from?

Apparently so, it seemed.
What kind of girlfriend doesn’t know those sorts of things about her own boyfriend? Have I mentioned that we’ve been together for a year and eight months? I was twenty one and already felt like I was somebody else’s carer. And not in a bad way, I didn’t mean that like he had a disability, because those types of carers do a lot more work than I do with John and I respected them for that. But I felt like it was constantly up to me- what Jared said about guys hating to feel weaker than their girl…it was kind of ringing a bell with me. Even though I said we weren’t like that, it still felt like I was the one wearing the pants, I was the one carrying this relationship. John just didn’t seem capable anymore, he didn’t seem like he was well enough to take care of me because I was too busy taking care of him.

Sometimes I missed his over-protective ways, and I missed the Saturday mornings he’d wake me up with blueberry pancakes. We were quite healthy eaters, to be honest, always making our own juice and muffins and salads and what not. We used to go to the gym together every Sunday night too. We still ate healthy, we just bought more than we made ourselves because he was just never in the mood to do things with me. Now we laid in bed and watched movies, and he’d try to convince himself that snuggling up to me is just as good, but really he was just trying ignore the fact that he was too caught up in the contagious cycle that depression is choke-holding him in. He preferred the blinds shut now, if that makes it any simpler.

I tried not to make too big of a deal about it because I didn’t want him to feel bad and think I didn’t understand what he was going through. We both knew I didn’t, but I at least tried to pretend in order to make things a little easier for him. I couldn’t stand the thought of him going through hard times alone. It’s not like he openly talked to the guys about his emotions on tour. Remember when I said he wouldn’t get out of bed on tour some mornings? The guys never got an explanation from him after that. Guess who had to call Tim back and explain?

Yep.

“Leighton!”

My head shot up from my desk, waking me from my slumber. I glanced at the clock, reading that it was five minutes past six. I then looked over to the doorway, where Elijah stood, an eyebrow raised.

“We’re all leaving. Tate said she’d give you a lift home.” He mused, looking me over. “Rough day, huh?”

“Rough eight months,” I mumbled underneath before switching off my computer and clearing my desk. “Something like that,” I yawned. “How long was I sleeping for?” I asked.

“Maybe two hours?” Elijah chuckled, as I grabbed my bag and followed him out, making sure to grab my keys as I closed the door to my office.

“Shit. Did Lennon send that email to Tim?” I asked, knowing it had to be tonight or else we wouldn’t make our deadline.

“Of course I did!” Lennon called, as we made our way to the front entrance of the warehouse, before
I closed it behind me, locking it twice just to make sure.

“Good, I won’t have to kick your ass,” I teased, poking my tongue at him as I slipped my keys back into my bag, looking up at the group to see Jack and Layla had already disappeared. “Nice to know you all waited,” I scoffed.

“They ran off the minute it hit six.” Elijah laughed, “We all know why.”

“Would you stop?” Tate scoffed, “they’re not hooking up!”

“Sure, they just drive to and from work together every day with no strings attached, whatever you say, Tate.” Elijah smirked, nudging her.

Tate rolled her eyes, shoving him back.

“Seriously, I’m going to put you two through counseling if you don’t watch it.” I warned, pointing at them. “Now let’s go, I gotta get home.”

“To see Mr. Rockstar, of course,” Lennon chuckled, before giving both me and Tate a hug. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Elijah said his goodbyes and they both headed off to their cars before I followed Tate to her car. It would have been nice to see John waiting in the car park like he usually did, before everything started to go downhill.

“Thanks for the lift home,” I sighed, fastening my seatbelt before she pulled out of the parking lot. She could do that with her eyes closed, that’s how good of a driver she was. But don’t ever get into a car with her and Garrett together. He was one of those really bad passengers that would scream at you for going too fast or something stupid. She’d scream back and start hitting him too, and to be honest, I don’t know how it wasn’t me that ended up on medication after all of those traumatic experiences.

I think maybe that’s why John was on medication, as a result of something that happened before we got together.

“No problem,” Tate chuckled, waving it off, “You sound exhausted, it’s the least I could do.”
I looked over at her, an eyebrow quirked. “So this isn’t a pity act?”

“Course not,” Tate assured, “I mean I’m worried about that for you two, but I know you can handle it. It’s you and John.”

“Lately it’s just been John. Then me.” I admitted, looking out the window beside me. “No ‘us’ anymore.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, finding humor in her blunt statement. “It does. But I mean, he just got new medication so hopefully that’ll work better than the last one. And the therapist too, it might do him some good, y’know?”

“Can only be positive,” she nodded in agreement. “I’m sure things will get better, hun.” She assured.

“I hope so,” I mumbled, nodding also. “We’re gonna talk when I get home- I just want to understand him better,” I sighed, before turning to her, “you know I don’t have any clue as to why he’s depressed? I don’t know what triggered his episode six months ago, and I don’t know why he lashed out and hit his younger brother.”

Tate bit down on her lip. “I think we need a night with Jac and two bottles of wine.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say to that either,” I stated, letting her off the hook as we reached my street.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, “I’m a shit friend,”

I scoffed, shoving her as she pulled into the drive way. “You are not.”

“Jac would know what to say,” she mumbled, “she’d know what to say to someone going through something like this, she’d know what to do in a tough situation, she’d know what to do if it were Eric, she’d know what to do when he’s done wrong by her or when she’s done wrong by him, she’d know what to do when she-“

“Are we still talking about me?” I frowned, now utterly confused as one of my closest friends began to ramble on.

Tate looked up at me, more in her eyes than she was willing to speak of. “Sorry, clouded mind. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded slowly, eyeing her carefully. “You sure you’re okay, Tate?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” she nodded quickly, though it wasn’t the least bit assuring. “Go see John.”

I hesitated, knowing she had her own problems. Problems I hadn’t even bothered to ask about. “Is everything okay with you and Garrett?”

Her head shot up, her eyes widening. “What did Pat tell you?”

I frowned, confused. “What?”

I didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to widen any more. But they did, because anything is possibly as of recently, apparently.

“N-nothing, we’ll get lunch tomorrow, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.” She nodded firmly, dropping eye contact and looking straight ahead of her. “I have to go…do something…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I sent her a look that was only rejected, dismissed by her lack of attention. “Yeah okay…” I nodded slowly as I got out of the car, my thoughts about her and Garrett now running a million miles a minute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Will do, bye Leighton.”

I barely made it to the front door before she’d driven off down the street, obviously in a rush to get to wherever the hell it was that she was going. By the time I got inside, she was gone. I felt completely alone- not just because Tate had so rudely dismissed me and driven off, but because my house was completely silent. If it wasn’t for his car in the driveway (we used his this morning, hence the reason I had to get a lift home), I wouldn’t have known he was here.
Oh, and the paper bag of newly prescribed medication- oh and the guy sleeping on the couch.
He fell asleep. Not even with the TV on. When I walked into the living room, I found John asleep on the couch, in grey sweat pants and a red and black striped sweater. We were supposed to be talking, we were supposed to talk about this morning, and last night, and the last eight months- he was supposed to be awake so we could talk about this, he wasn’t supposed to fall asleep so he could be let off the hook.

I sat down in front of him, on the coffee table. Before I could wake him, I noticed the open notebook beside me on the table, the pen still sitting on top. I know I shouldn’t have looked, and I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to read his lyrics, but I couldn’t help myself.


I’m just a kid
Don’t walk away
Please don’t walk away
I don’t think I’ll make it through today
If you walk away
Please don’t walk away


I put the book down, wishing I’d never read those lines. That only proved how dependent he was on me, on the guys, on people around him. He didn’t really believe that bullshit, ‘depression isn’t a two person road’- he needed me and I was hardly doing anything to help him. He’d never been through this before, neither had I, and here I was blaming him for falling asleep because I just wanted a verbal fight with him.

I decided to leave him be for the night. He looked exhausted, another side effect. The insomnia is what kept him awake most nights so it wouldn’t surprise me how tired he was to be asleep before seven PM. I couldn’t be mad at him for finally having a good nights’ sleep- God knows he needed it.
I know I should’ve woken him and told him to come upstairs to bed, but I didn’t want to disturb his sleep. It’d take him hours to get back to sleep and I couldn’t risk that. The medication could sometimes make him aggressive (hence last night- the medication is what it was going down to, end of discussion), and effect his lack of temper, so I wasn’t going to take any chances.

So that night I left him on the couch, grabbing a blanket from the other couch and draping it over his body. I know he would wake up in a few hours of either night terrors, insomnia or restlessness. Keeping that in mind, I left our bedroom door open that night and slept with one eye open, waiting for him. I know you can’t live like that every night, but I don’t have a choice. I have to in order to assure my boyfriend doesn’t harm himself, or doesn’t get so depressed that it pushes him over the edge. These are the things that I have to worry about- I’m no longer my first priority in life, he is.
That’s just the way we needed it to be.

***

He came crawling up to bed at around two the next morning. I thought he’d just woken up and realized he was on the couch and it would be okay. But as usual, ‘okay’ wasn’t a term he used. He dropped into bed beside me, breathing heavily. He was hot, and sweating.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Fucking nightmares,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair.

I slipped my cold hands up his shirt, before slipping it off of his body, cringing when I felt his ribs. “You’re all hot and sweaty.”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, before moving to take off his sweat pants. “Go back to sleep-“

“Do you need sleeping pills?” I asked, ignoring his request.

“No, Lei, go back to sleep.” He sighed, leaving the sheets resting on his hips. I heard his voice shake in his response and knew what was coming next. “I’m f-fine.”

“You’re not baby,” I sighed, sitting up and pulling him into my arms in the darkness. I don’t know if that’s significant-it’s always dark around John. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“We’ll talk about yesterday tomorrow, I prom-promise.” He insisted, his voice raspy. I’m surprised it wasn’t completely broken after all this time.

“Don’t worry about it, bub, just go to sleep,” I cooed, running my hand through his hair, just holding him against me. “You’re gonna be okay,”

He didn’t respond, but I knew he wasn’t asleep yet. His eyes were open, I could feel it. I knew him too well now. I let out a sigh, absent-mindedly caressing his hip with my thumb as I fell back under. I don’t know if he was going to go back to sleep, but I had to; I was exhausted.

Emotionally, physically and mentally.

***

I woke up to lips travelling down my stomach. My shirt was pushed up and I could feel the trail his touch had left behind, my skin tingling. But when they reached the waistband of my pants, along with his fingers, I had to stop him.

“John we can’t,”

He looked up at me with a frown. “Why not?”

“It’s Tuesday morning-“ I looked beside me to the clock. “And I’m incredibly late for work, why didn’t you wake me?!”

He sat up quickly, pushing away from me. “I…I thought you could use the sleep-“

“Of course I can use it,” I scoffed, “Doesn’t mean I have it! I have a job, John, for fucks’ sake.” I muttered, pushing him off of me and getting out of bed, more frustrated than flustered. I had to be in at seven thirty, or around seven thirty, and it was now ten thirty. That’s three hours late for work- he knew how important my career was to me. We were just beginning to launch another line within 8123, almost a sister type of line to The Lost Boys. I was working my ass off for that as well and I just couldn’t afford to slack off.

I pulled on a pair of black leather shorts with a white crocheted halter neck. It was in that stage of the year when it’s hot one day, cold the next, so I took my chances and threw on an oversized knit cardi before heading into the bathroom to do my hair and make up, all the while ignoring John.

“Well do you wanna meet up for lunch or something?” He mumbled, staying in bed. “I can come to the office, I mean I’ve gotta see Tim down the street anyway-“

“I’ll be busy.” I snapped, quite rudely to be honest. “I won’t have time for lunch.”

“Did you have dinner last night?” John frowned.

“Did you?” I asked, once finishing up in the bathroom and slipping into my converse. “I came home and you were asleep on the couch.”

John pulled his knees up to his chest before leaning on them. “No.”

“Exactly.”

He rolled his eyes, his mood evidently flat. “Quit being such a bitch, Leighton; I’m sorry.”

I just stared at him. “It doesn’t count for an apology if you call me a bitch right before you apologize, John.” I scoffed. “If you were up you could have woken me so I wouldn’t be late for work- it’s not that hard!”

“Well sorry for worrying about your well-being!” He yelled back, his temper snapping immediately.

See what I mean about aggressive?

He shouldn’t have said that though, because it only set me off.

“Why don’t you worry about your own well-being first?!” I shot back. “You’re the one on fucking medication!”

“How about I just overdose then?!” He threw back venomously, “I bet that’d be a whole lot easier for you!”

“It’d probably be a whole lot cheaper too!” I snapped back.

His eyes turned to ice as he glared at me. “Fine. Hopefully for you I’ll be dead on the bathroom floor by the time you get home.”

“Fine!” I scoffed, over his attitude. I left the room in anger, slamming the door behind me in a rush.
But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t keep walking down the hallway because I heard him sniff then curse at himself for doing so. I can’t believe those words just left my mouth. I’d just taken his side on the suggestion of an overdose. A fucking overdose.

Turning around suddenly, I opened the door quickly, and his head shot up, eyes red and full of tears he was still mentally cursing at.

“D-don’t,” I choked out, shaking my head, “don’t you fucking dare- you better be here when I get home, John-“

“I-I w-won’t,” he nodded, sighing. “I’m sorry darlin’.”

“You just…” I don’t even know what I was supposed to say anymore. “You just better be alive, O’Callaghan.” I warned, before closing the door and heading downstairs, grabbing my bag and leaving the house as soon as possible.

I didn’t start crying until I got into the car. That’s when I burst into tears, dropping my head into my hands. Of course I wanted to do that with him on a Tuesday morning, rather than going to work until six. Of course I wanted that more. Of course I just wanted to spend majority of my time with him, doing nothing and everything all at once, forgetting about the stupid medication and the stupid side effects and the stupid depression.

But I couldn’t do that, because it just…it’s just not like that in the real world. It’s okay for him, because his career doesn’t base off of nine to five hours every week day. No, he goes away for four months then comes home, gets time off before he has to make a new album. His career was purely based on creation…mine too, but mine was set hours. AKA it mattered if I was late.

I started to pull myself together and began the drive to work. I could be there in fifteen minutes if I
didn’t get stuck in traffic. Taking deep breaths, I pulled out onto the street and drove off, with a worse feeling in my stomach. Almost as worse as six months ago.
I’ve never felt more sick to my stomach than the day of his episode six months ago. That was ultimately the worst day of my life. I didn’t know what the hell was going on- I can’t even speak about it right now.

By the time I’d gotten to work, I was a lot more calmer- and quieter. I got out of the car, slung my bag over my shoulder and locked it behind me before heading to the warehouse. I took a few deep breaths before heading in, thankful to see everyone had taken the initiative to already get a start on work.

“Hey guys, I’m sorry I’m late,” I interrupted, causing them all to look up from their packaging samples and focus their attention on me. I probably looked like a mess-

“Are you crying?” Lennon frowned, looking genuinely concerned.

“Is everything okay?” Layla asked, her eyes widening.

“Oh I’m fine,” I lied, knowing Tate could see right through me. I hadn’t spoken to her since Sunday night, and I didn’t want her thinking the worst because of it. “Rough morning, but it’s all good. How is everything going?” I asked, leaning over Jack’s chair.

“We’re just sorting out packaging,” Jack nodded, pushing a few samples forward on the table. “If they order The Maine’s pre-order we’re gonna put it in that size box, and if they order a random shirt or two, we’ll put it in a sleeve,” he explained, “we don’t have much to do today, so we just wanted to prep the packaging for shipment. We have a lot of stuff going out next week.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it under control though,” I nodded, clearly impressed with their initiative. “Plus we’re gonna have a meeting this afternoon about the new line, which we still haven’t come up with a name for, so I’m desperately open to ideas. I’ve got a meeting with Tim this Friday about it.” I explained, running a hand through my short hair, feeling it get tangled with my ring. My mind instantly flashed back to Ireland, and how happy we were. It was a flawless vacation, even with the terrible weather and getting lost every day. We were happy. He was…happy.

I felt tears start to fill in the backs of my eyes, and looked away quickly. “Anyway, I’m gonna be in my office with paper work so continue on,” I nodded, before heading into my office quickly, shutting out the oncoming whispers.
I really didn’t need them thinking something was up. They’d just be more names to the list- it was bad enough Dr. Adams thought our relationship was falling apart, and that all of our friends figured I was some victim of domestic violence- I didn’t need my personal life getting involved with my work life. All of these issues with John consumed me enough as it was, he was just taking up more and more of my attention these days. I could feel him building up towards a climax that I wasn’t sure how was supposed to turn out.

***

It wasn’t until lunch time that day that I came into contact with the human race again. I’d somehow migrated to under my desk, taking my paperwork with me, rather than sitting at my desk. I don’t know why. I think it was because my office had glass walls, and I couldn’t stand to be under the watchful eye of all of them. I had to escape and hiding under desks was always my gateway to that escapism.


“Babe? Leighton where are you?!”

I heard him calling but I didn’t respond. I pulled my legs up under my chin and hugged them tightly. I was usually fine during weather like this, but this one…this was a freaking hurricane. I couldn’t be okay through this.

“Leighton! Where are you- Leighton?”

I saw his feet stop before he kneeled, getting on his hands and knees, dropping his head down.

“Leighton, baby, why are you hiding under the table?” He asked gently, crawling underneath with me, like he always did. He knew why I hid under the table, yet he always asked as if he didn’t, because he knew it made me feel pathetic, the hiding under the table thing.

“The f-fucking hurricane,” I mumbled, playing with my hands.

He pulled me into his strong arms, wrapping his legs around me. “You’ll be okay, bub.”

“It’s getting closer,” I whimpered, burying my head into his chest.

“It’s not gonna get you bubba, I promise you that,” his raspy voice calmed my ear as his arms held me tighter. “We’re gonna be just fine.”

He didn’t sit under the table with me anymore, and hadn’t for the past eight months.

“Hey, I said I got you lunch.”

I looked up to see Tate standing in my doorway, bringing me out of old memories. Although I was pretty traumatized by the hurricane, it was still a happier time than us now. She held a bag from the Healthy Foods across the road- her and Garrett were health nuts, hardly ever eating take out. At a time like this, I really loathed that characteristic about them. “Oh you didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” Tate scoffed, walking in to my office. “Because God knows you wouldn’t eat otherwise.”

I sent her a look as she sat in front of me, setting the food between us. It reminded me of how John used to bring this kind of food to the office, and then surprise me at the end with something completely unhealthy. “I’m fine.” I insisted. “I promis-“

“Oh don’t go making those kinds of promises to me,” she mused, handing me a wrap. “I don’t believe it anyway, but that’s not the point, the point is-“

“Do you always have to have a point?” I asked with a frown as I began to eat. “You’re not going to ask me if I’m okay because you know I’ll ask you the same thing, therefore you have a problem that you don’t want to talk about but will distract me to talk about myself.” I stated, looking up at her.

She raised an eyebrow, somewhat impressed with my response. “That’s true. But my business with Garrett wasn’t showcased the other night in front of everybody we know- Austin and Nat even stopped making out for Christs’ sake.” She scoffed. “What’s going on, Leighton?”

“You already know the answer to that.” I mused with a shrug.

“Okay,” she nodded, “how did last night go? Did you two talk like you said you would?”

“He fell asleep on the couch.” I mumbled, “I got home and he was fast asleep.”

“So?” she frowned, “you didn’t wake him? You just let him get away with it? Lei, he probably went to sleep on purpose in order to get out of talking about it-“

I shook my head abruptly at the thought. “Course not, that’s impossible- it’s impossible for him to get to sleep most nights, meaning he goes to sleep early hours of the morning and doesn’t wake up until later. Now his sleeping pattern is all over the place. “He got up later anyway, I thought he’d make it through the night but he didn’t. He had nightmares again and then we just woke up late,” I shrugged.

“We didn’t have time.”

“That’s what it’s always going to come down to if you don’t make the time, Leighton.” She warned firmly. “There’s obviously something deep going on with him.”

“He’s seeing a therapist this Friday. It’s his first session.” I stated with a slight nod. “We’re making changes.”

She looked over at me, no facial expression to give away what she was thinking. “You love him…a lot.”

“He’s my everything, Tate,” I sighed, leaning back against my desk. “Do you know how much it hurts to see your everything in a pain that nobody else can understand? It’s not even a physical pain that surgery could fix, it’s an emotional pain that he has to fix himself. That’s why he’s so hesitant and distant.”

She nodded slowly, taking a bite of her wrap, reminding me of the one in my own hands. “But don’t you ever feel that it’s not fulfilling you anymore? Like…you’re so used to him and your relationship that it doesn’t spark anything anymore?”

“I still feel all high school when he touches me…even when it’s just hand holding,” I admitted, thoroughly embarrassed at this confession. “I still feel it.”

“That’s disgustingly cute,” she scoffed, nudging me.

I looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. “You’re losing it with Garrett aren’t you?” I asked wearily. “that feeling?”

She shrugged. “It happens, Lei.”

“What, so are you guys breaking up?” I asked with a frown, more disappointed than anything. They were so incredibly perfect for each other. They were both culture nerds and lived off of all of those good movies you forget about for years, they were crazy patterned socks, they were those nights at indie bars listening to indie bands and drinking drinks that you’ve never heard of- they were that couple.

Almost like Austin and Nat, who were that couple in the sense that they made out a lot, and always held hands, and at group breakfasts she was basically sitting in his lap, and they’d feed each other pancakes because neither of them liked waffles. They were an extremely passionate couple, meaning that when they fought, they went all out, guns blazing. But no matter how cruel the words were, or how low the shots were, they always swallowed their pride, they sacrificed being right in order to fix things. They were that honey moon couple.

Kennedy and Lydia were another aspect of that couple. They were painfully active, always hiking, always camping, always…just doing something challenging. It made sense, Lydia was a kick boxing instructor, the fittest of all of us. They ate healthier than anyone, making us look like failed and poor attempts. They kicked our asses…literally.

Sometimes it just didn’t make sense how perfect two people could be together. Lydia, Nat and Tate had all found that person that they were so alike, and so in sync with. They all had their similar interests and personalities, which is my best guess at what made them mesh so well together. Sometimes it got me thinking what exactly it was that made me and John mesh so well.

The best I could come up with, is that we both like Tom Petty.

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head frantically, “why? Has someone said something?”

I shook my head in confusion. She was a lot more on edge as of recently and it was starting to worry me.

“We’re working on it. We’re sorting things out.” She assured me, stuffing her rubbish into the bag. “He’s convinced we need to go to couple counseling.”

“Maybe it’d help you two, and that’s a good sign, right?” I suggested, “that he’s being proactive about it. Like Austin, he’s swallowing his pride.”

She gave me a confused look, dismissing the Austin part but agreeing with me nonetheless. “I guess in a sense it is. It wouldn’t hurt if he could be as sexual.” She mumbled the last part, more so to herself.

I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s what it’s coming down to? Real problems my ass.”
She shoved me. “I don’t know how you don’t go crazy, John’s been away the same amount of time Garrett has.”

“Yes, but it’s been around six months since we’ve been intimate,” I stated pathetically, “I’m used to it. It’s a side effect of his medication.”

“What, he doesn’t know how to put out?” She frowned flatly.

“No,” I hissed, my cheeks heating up. “He just…it’s a lack of sex drive, okay? And it can effect…the use of-“

“His dick?”

Okay I shoved her completely for that one.

“Tate! We need you for a sec!”

She rolled her eyes playfully before standing, “Hold on,” she laughed, before leaving my office to attend to Jack’s calls.

I waved her off before resuming my lunch break. I was almost completely engrossed in my wrap and pink lemonade before her phone buzzed, the screen illuminating. Normally I wouldn’t read other peoples’ messages. In fact I don’t, I don’t even read John’s messages. But it caught my eye and shocked me.


Pat: hey beautiful, miss you. Wanna meet up? Thinking of you all last night ;)


She was…with Pat? Pat of all people?! They were best friends! Pat was Garrett’s best friend! She was just telling me that…she was just telling me, that she was losing the spark with Garrett.

“But don’t you ever feel that it’s not fulfilling you anymore?”

Oh my god.

***

I had to cut lunch short because I couldn’t talk to her anymore. My whole vision of my best friend had been dramatically altered because of that one message I was never supposed to see. I couldn’t believe she would do something like that. She swore to herself since she was nine that she’d never do what he father did to her mother. We both saw what it did to her mom, and it shattered the both of us.

I can’t believe she’d do the exact same thing.
But I didn’t confront her about it. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t take on that sort of drama in my life right now. I already had everything with John going on, and the new line, I didn’t need any more distractions from those two things. They were my two biggest focuses right now.
I left work feeling a whole lot more alone than before. Maybe I needed to talk to Lydia, or Hilary even. I couldn’t talk about this stuff with Tate anymore. I just…there’s something about finding out your best friend is most likely sleeping with her boyfriends’ best friend that puts you off sharing private things like the mental state of your own boyfriend. So maybe I came across like I was in a shitty mood that night when we closed up the warehouse, but at this point, I just didn’t care. There was only one thing on my mind.

“Hey baby,”

“We need to talk,”