27 Lucas in Not Okay （He Promises）

July 25th

It was taking every bit of strength to keep breathing.

During the flashes of time I was present in my body, Rick and Andie had—separately and then finally together—attempted to get me to eat. It was like I was being crushed under the weight of disappointment and lifelong insecurity. I was unable to move or do anything that wasn't thinking about texting Darren and telling him whatever he wanted to hear so that he'd take me back.

Rick had confiscated my phone after I'd made the mistake of mentioning this.

It was good of them to let me stay here, it really was, even though I was on the couch in the living room instead of in my old room, which apparently they'd already converted into Andie's office. It was like I had never been here to begin with.

And through the cloud, desperate as I was to block it out, Darren's voice played on repeat.

"This was a mistake."

"You're not right for me."

Exhausting. Childish.

Delusional. Desperate.

I didn't realize I had moved until I returned to my body in front of Rick and Andie's open fridge, staring at the contents. Would drinking ketchup straight out of the bottle count as eating something?

I shouldn't. Too high in sugar.

"Lucas?"

I turned, in slow motion, to see Rick and Andie standing in the doorway. They were staring at me in concern, and more distressingly, were holding hands. Because apparently that was what couples did, even when it was insensitive in the presence of their romantically deficient friend.

Me, who was so unlovable that his boyfriend dropped him without a second thought; me, whose best friends would rather kick him out so they could fuck. Me, who, despite all his efforts, no one wanted to meet or keep or love.

"I've decided," I announced, "that I hate love. Whoever invented love sucks."

"That's the spirit," said Rick, the hypocrite, while still grasping his girlfriend's hand.

Andie, for what it was worth, smacked his chest. "Babe, that's nothelping." She returned to frowning at me in concern. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. "It's just that, it's really shitty, and I want to go over there and kill him, but we're worried. We haven't seen you like this since ..."

"Since Dad," I finished for her, letting the fridge door smack closed. "Yeah, I haven't felt this bad since Dad." It shouldn't have been, shouldn't have felt like a family member dying—but it did.

They looked like they wanted to group-hug me, which ordinarily would be more than welcome, but I couldn't handle it right now—my skin was too tight, and my chest still wasn't working properly.

Best to remove the temptation. "I'm going to the gym," I said, marching back into the living room as they stepped aside. I didn't want to leave the house, or even the couch, for approximately ever, but the gym at this apartment complex was hardly used. Thank god, because if I had to interact with another human who was not in this room, I would die.

"I'm glad you're up and want to get out of the house, bud," Rick began, maneuvering himself in a way that suggested he was trying to block my path to the front door, "but maybe the gym can wait a bit; it'll still be there when this all isn't so fresh—"

"It's either the gym or the couch," I pointed out. Why isn't he being reasonable about this? "Only one of those options gets me closer to human again." Besides, they hadn't been at Briars in the aftermath. I'd been weak, clawing in a grief-stupor for anything in the fridge that was within reach. My memory was hazy about specifics, but my stomach remembered.

Rick still looked uncertain, but after I promised to text them later, he returned my phone and I walked the short distance to the gym.

A couple of rigorous hours on the elliptical. That was what I needed.

I focused my breathing and concentrated on the burn of my muscles as I cranked the setting higher, then higher—it wasn't enough; he was still under my skin, his bright hazel eyes, the warmth of his hands—

I continued until I was lightheaded, at which point I finally switched off the machine, my body buzzing with endorphins. I was briefly ill in the gym restroom, but then I felt stronger, more energized, and most importantly, free of whatever garbage I had put in my body before.

A few hours later, after a quick shower at Rick and Andie's apartment, I informed them that I was going to head on home. I didn't want to burden them more than I already had, and sitting in the same room with two people in a healthy, stable relationship felt like the universe rubbing it in. Like yes, thank you, I get it, no one will ever love me.

Not waiting until my workout high dissipated, I said goodbye to Rick and Andie, allowed them to gently hug me, and drove back to Briars.

To no one's surprise, Armand wasn't there. The apartment was as quiet as a ghost town. The living room was in proper order, the kitchen was clean—

Wait.

I might've been half out of my mind the last time I was here, but something pulled at my memory. Something that resembled a mountain of crumpled-up tissues in the living room, which was now gone.

Weird.

I walked into the kitchen where I distinctly remembered drowning myself in a boatload of junk food after having decided to poison my body past its ability to recognize pain.

I stared at the microwave, remembering the frozen burrito.

That was a whole new low for me. Even though I hadn't eaten it like I had apparently everything else, my stomach still churned. The vegetarian nearly eats highly processed beef as a result of being heartlessly dumped. Could I be more pathetic?

Angrily scribbling myself a reminder note and sticking it to the fridge, I prepared to lock myself in my bedroom and wait for the inevitable adrenaline crash, when something on the counter caught my eye.

A plate of muffins sat next to the stove, accompanied by a small Post-it stuck to the side of the plate.

feel better

He'd made me pity muffins. Even a total stranger, who had blatantly refused to meet me in person, could see that I was pathetic.

I should've been grateful, but it was a bitter reminder of why I needed to be pitied in the first place. The wallowing could wait. I grabbed my camera from the bookshelf and stormed right past the muffins and back out the door again.

With any luck, I might encounter some roadkill to photograph.