CHAPTER 44

Levi slips off my body, curling himself away from me.

I lie next to him, my fingers still wrapped around my softening cock and my stomach splattered with cum.

When it's clear Levi has, in fact, moved from mania and is falling fast, I rise from the bed. Not bothering with looking for my clothes, I move quietly to the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

He won't take it from my hand, so I leave it on the nightstand. I want to touch him, but I'm terrified he'll shrink away from me.

Old memories are hard to get rid of when there are so many chasing you down. Immediately, I'm drowning in memories of Nicky and his shame after sex, and then, the guilt overtakes me. Once again, I took advantage of Levi when he was at his most vulnerable. How much does his consent mean when his mind is failing him so catastrophically?

I sort through our clothes, working hard to keep that old self-hatred at bay. Trying to remember that Levi is not Nicholas. He's not rejecting me. Levi is crashing. He's not blaming me.

I separate my clothes from his, leaving his clothes next to him in a neat pile.

Then, I drop onto the bed next to him, doing the right thing, even as resentment builds, unreasonable and irrational, for all the times before this I had to walk away when all I wanted to do was stay and make everything right again. "I'm still here, Levi. I can stay with you. I can sit with you in silence," I whisper close to his ear. "Merry Christmas, Levi."

I reach out to touch him carefully. He lets me remove the condom. I knot and discard it. Then, I cover his naked body with a blanket.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "It's not you. Please don't blame yourself. It's me. I'm sorry, Hayden."

I accept his words, but I don't know how to stop myself from wanting the warmth and peace that should come with lovemaking.

I don't know how long this low will last. I don't know how long before Levi comes back from his dark place. I kiss him on his forehead. He won't look at me. "You were good, Levi. Never mind how or why. Never mind manic or depressive, you were good. I'm still here."

He nods, shifting his eyes to me. "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have come. This is so fucked up."

"You belong here, no matter what."

He doesn't seem to process my words. I don't think he's even heard them.

"I'm sorry," he whispers again. "I should just die."

"Should I call your doctor?" I ask, steeling myself against those words.

"Why? So, you can have me admitted to the psych ward?" There's a bite in his tone.

The old fears creep up my spine. Are you going to sit back and watch them drag me to a facility, Hayden? Grinding my molars, I reach for compassion instead of anger because Levi has done nothing wrong.

Still, I hardly make it. I'm struggling to separate the past from the present. My mother's words echo in my mind. Nicky loved you the best way he could, but he destroyed you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," Levi whispers. "I'm sorry. I don't regret what we did. I don"t know what's happening inside my head."

"I'll bring you some more water," I say. The glass I'd brought earlier is still full but maybe the physical distance will help. This is the hardest part. Not knowing whether I should stay or go. Whether to reject or accept his words. Take it personally because I need to protect myself too, or not take it personally because this is not him, and this is not about me.

In the kitchen, I brace myself on the counter. Levi isn't suicidal. And he said he's not triggered by manic sex. Not like Nicholas had been. Levi will be fine. He's not Nicholas. I don't need to apply the worst-case scenario to every person with Bipolar Disorder.

The canvas he brought in earlier – my Christmas gift – lies face down on the other side. I take a few heavy steps to it. Turn it over.

And like a volcano lying dormant for too long, my anger from all the years past erupts.

Nicholas stares up at me, his smile connected to the laughter in his eyes.

I can't breathe. Nothing can get in or out.

My world falls apart, crashing to pieces all around me, raining down every beautiful, terrible memory I have of Nicholas. The most terrible of them, his smile. His laughter.

I roar, swiping the canvas to the ground.

He left.

He fucking left me.

And Levi will leave me too. What guarantee do I have that Levi is different? And what guarantee can I offer him that I'll ever get over Nicky's death? I'll always be only half a person for Levi.

It's hopeless. This is hopeless.

The peace lily next to my hand shakes with the light wind coming from the open window.

I move without thought, registering my actions only when the sound of the pot crashing to the floor shatters the air.

I'm spiraling, just like Levi. Tossed irrationally from despair to rage to hopelessness.

Unable to bear this ache – for Nicholas, for Levi, for me – I trudge to my office in search of the comfort offered by the painting that started it all.