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I avert my gaze even more because he’s not going to like this answer.

“Marcus.”

“January,” I admit, quiet. “I think.”

“Fuck.”

“And your meds? Are you still taking them?”

I look away from him, toward the window because I’m so ashamed. “I ran out. A while ago. I kept meaning to call in a refill and I just… didn’t.”

Josh exhales and for a second I think he might actually cry, which would be worse than anything he could say to me right now.

“Okay,” he huffs. “We’re doing this today. Right now. You’re going to email Dr. Patel and ask for an emergency session, and you’re going to call your pharmacy and refill your prescription, and I’m going to sit right here on this couch until both of those things actually happen. I’m not leaving, Marcus. I mean that. You’re going to get it together, man.”

“Josh, I don’t⁠—”

“I’m not asking.” His voice is firm in a way I’ve rarely heard from him. “I’ve given you months of space and realize now that I shouldn’t have. I fucked up, but I’m not going to let you disappear into yourself anymore. Enough is enough. And you’re going to shave that fucking beard.”

I rub my palm over my overgrown facial hair. “What’s the point, Josh?”

“The point of what?”

“Any of it. I’ll email her, I’ll get the meds, I’ll feel a little better for a while, and then something will happen, and I’ll end up right back here. I always do.”

“So you’re just going to stay here?” He gestures around the apartment. “This is the plan? This is all you want out of life? To move through it numb?”

“No, I don’t want to. It’s just…” I trail off. “Easier.”

“Easier than what? Because from where I’m sitting it looks pretty fucking hard.”

I sigh because he’s right. Everything is hard right now. It sucks. But some fucked-up part of me still thinks it’s easier than looking Dr. Patel in the face after months of ignoring her. Easier than admitting I stopped taking care of myself. Easier than finding out if Evan still thinks we could be more or if he just wants to make sure I’m alive.

Josh sits down across from me, elbows on his knees.

“You remember when we were kids, and you used to film us skating in my backyard?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You’d cut out every time we fell and by the time you were done, it looked like we were teenage professionals or something.” He shakes his head, smiling at the memory. “I used to think it was the coolest thing. Now I worry that you’ve used that approach for your whole life, man. Cutting out the parts you don’t think anyone can handle because your sorry excuse for parents couldn’t.”

I suck in a sharp breath before my throat goes tight. I’ve never once thought of it that way, but he’s… right. Holy shit, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing and somehow I didn’t notice.

“But you can’t edit life, man. Especially not with the people you care about, and who care about you. You can’t keep doing this to Evan if you ever want what you have to be real.”

For the first time in a long, long time, I feel tears start to well in my eyes. I stare down at the table because I can’t meet his eyes and dab the corner of my eyes with my hoodie sleeve.

“I broke a promise to him,” I say quietly before shaking my head. “No, that’s not true. I broke multiple. I told him I’d tell him when I needed space instead of just disappearing. And then I disappeared anyway. I told him I’d visit Seattle. I told him I’d hang that fucking record on the wall like art.”

“So fix it. Make it right, and making it right starts with an email.”

He grabs my laptop for me, sets it in front of me on the dining room table, and sits beside me while I open it up. My hands are shaking slightly as I pull up the email I’ve been avoiding for months. I type and delete a few times before I finally land on what I want to say.

Dr. Patel, I’m sorry for the silence. I’ve had a really hard year and I haven’t been managing it well. I'd like to schedule a session as soon as you have availability. I think I need help. – Marcus

“Hit send,” Josh instructs.

But I hesitate. I think I need help. It feels strange seeing those words written out so plainly. It feels like an enormous admission as my fingers continue to hover over the trackpad. “She’s going to be so disappointed.”