Bitter Affectionate

Chapter 24

I found myself holding my hands up, as if to deter his emotions from slamming into me. "Before you get mad, I can explain-"

"You fucking lied to me!" He exclaimed. His voice was loud, but it was swallowed by surrounding trees and didn't echo any further than my head.

Already mad. Got it. I wondered if there was any way to keep the peace in this conversation. Based off of his tense brows, the answer looked like no.

"Hear me out," I said, keeping my voice calm and my hands surrendered. "I took those for a long time. It took years to be okay without them, and I didn't want to go back. I couldn't be dependant again, okay? I'm good without them."

"But you're not!" He shouted. I felt myself flinch and shrink in on myself like I'd been hit. "Isn't that the point? You were off them because you were okay, but you can't pretend like it's not bad again. I'm not that stupid."

I took a breath, trying to keep my frustration at bay. "I can manage my own mental health. Nothing is wrong that I can't handle. I need you to hear this, Brent: I don't need them. I will not take them. I never promised anyone I would."

I watched his shoulders tense. He was choking the bottle in his hand, grip on it so tight his knuckles were white.

"You told me you were taking them! Days ago!" He went on. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to stop myself from butting in. "Just days ago, you lied to my face! I asked you if you were taking them, because you've been fucking nuts recently!"

"What was I supposed to do?" I blurted, unable to restrain myself. "You were trying to control me!"

"I wasn't trying to control you," He said, tilting his head at the notion incredulously. "I was trying to help you."

I snorted. "Funny, where I'm standing, those look like the same thing."

"Then stand somewhere else, because you're not seeing straight."

"Good one."

"For fucks sake, Drew." With his free hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. "They're prescription meds. I'm not your fucking doctor. How am I the bad guy?"

"You ambushed me! You and Mark sat me down and pushed them into my hand! I never asked for them!"

"You never would! You have this crazy idea that you don't need help, and what's going on with you is perfectly normal. News flash, Drew: we're both fucked. We both need to be medicated or strapped to a fucking bed!"

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" He crossed his arms in front of him, pills rattling as he moved. "Weren't you the one encouraging me to try any doctor I could? Get every test available? Through pill trials, evaluations, bloodwork, scans, alternative fucking medicine, you were the one who said 'it'll all be worth it when you finally feel okay.' Do you remember that? Because I do. Sometimes, it's the only thing keeping me sane!"

"That's totally different."

"Why? Because I'm really crazy, and you're just a 'nervous guy'?"

"No, that's not-"

"Bottom line is, we both need help. Why do I have to accept it, but you don't?"

"I did accept it!" I argued. It was my turn to raise my voice, but he was as solid as a rock when I did. "I got the help I needed years ago! That's over now! I'm fine!"

"You're delusional," He muttered. I could tell it was getting to him. He was teary eyed but besides that, every inch of him spelled rage. "What's your problem? Do you not want to be happy? Do you hate yourself that much?"