I swallowed hard. “Was it a bad idea?”
“You listened—no, you heard what I said, and you didn’t attempt to throw me a party but organized something that would bring back good memories and make new ones.” He climbed onto my lap and hugged me, resting his heavy head on my pec.
“Is that a yes to the cake?” Tentatively, I stroked his back in circles.
He nodded against my chest. “I’ll clean the house first and shower. I stink. I was feeling a bit better today. Weird, considering it’s my birthday. So I’m ready to roll out of bed.” He got off me but fell onto the duvet and hugged the pillow. “Or not. I lied. I’m staying here for now.”
“We can do whatever you feel like it. Or I can go.”
“Stay.”
“Do you want to listen to music? Watch a movie?” I motioned to the small TV on the dresser.” If he’d fall asleep, he’d get some rest and I’ll clean up a bit. “Or I’ll just hang here while you nap.” Would that help with his nightmares? Had he had any since the cabin?
He fell silent, shifted, then covered his eyes with his forearm. “I have some pills in my sock drawer. I think I wasn’t ready to stop taking them.” He sighed. “Could you bring them to me?”
“Of course.” I fetched them along with a glass of water and returned to my spot on the bed.
“I’m fine, I promise. And this has nothing to do with you.” He grimaced as if that wasn’t exactly true. “And I have a video appointment with my therapist.” He took one pill from the box and chased it with water. “No, that’s all lies. I’m not okay, Rowan. I haven’t been since my parents died. So please, feel free to go.”
“Why would I?”
“I’m masking well. My therapist calls it toxic positivity. But it drains me. Today, I have no spoons and no mask to put on, so I’ll just be a miserable goblin.”
I shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of something that was his daily struggle. How had I not seen it? “That’s fine by me. Unless you’re kicking me out.”
“I’m not, just…” He lifted one shoulder and let it drop.
“Then I’ll stay.”
“I’m twenty-five today.” Milo took a sip from the glass I’d brought.
“Can I wish you a happy birthday?”
Milo snorted so hard that water spurted out of his nose. “I guess.” He coughed, and tears sprang to his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded, then shook his head and covered himself with the duvet. A moment later he stuck his head out and sniffed. “We can watch Swamp Thing again.”
It had become a comfort movie to me as well. Without a word, I reached for the remote and put his legs on my lap.
Author’s notes:
Everyone’s depression is different. If this doesn’t look like you or someone you love, it’s okay. If you need to reach out, I added the numbers to places that could help at the beginning of the fic now.
Rowan
“Rowie? Are you okay?” Raina’s voice came through, worried over the phone.
I’d called her when I returned to my hotel from Milo’s place and had spiralled in my head. I do not panic. I calculate, analyze, and find solutions. But this time I was lost.
“I’m not injured. But I feel like I’m dying.” I plopped down at the edge of the bed.
“Okay, you’re being a dramatic little shit. What did you do?” Only an older sister could call a seven foot hairy bigfoot that and be completely in the right.
“It’s about what I didn’t do, I think.”
“Is it about Milo?”
