August // Jeremiah Fisher

3. a kicked puppy abandoned on a highway during a category 4 hurricane

Sofia

Living with a frat boy fresh off a failed engagement/wedding was something I didn't necessarily have on my yearly bingo card. It felt like the first episode in friends where Rachel fled her wedding in the first episode in her gown, I hope that made me Monica in this.

Since that night he came stumbling in, puzzling together what happened became a challenge. So far Jeremiah and I pieced together from the bar regulars and an unhappy bartender that he got very shit faced through the free drinks that the patrons gave him in pity for the failed engagement.

However he got so shit faced he could barely walk, let alone drive. When the bartender asked where he lived he could only mutter out Lacie's name and by luck one of her ex boyfriends was there and gave the directions to here.

Which now brought us to today. 

Jeremiah hadn't come back after picking up his car from the bar in the early morning. He said he had to pick up some clothes and items from his house and talk to his dad all the way in New York. 

A part of me thought about the possibility he was never coming back. But I couldn't help the thought in the back of my mind that maybe that was a good thing. It would calm my worsening anxiety about lying to Lacie. Luckily so far she seemed happier than ever posting the fancy dinners and beautiful views of her trip with her tall model esque boyfriend peppered across them. She was unaware of the chaos that came stumbling in this past weekend.

Looking at the time on my phone, it was already three. He would of arrived in New York by now if traffic wasn't horrible or he hadn't crashed midway.

But as much as I tried to get my mind off it it, I couldn't help but feel increasingly worried about Jeremiah. I didn't know why in all honesty. Truth is I didn't know him that well and what I did know of him was limited. Even light social media stalking was useless given he had deleted all his post on instagram. All I really knew is that he wasn't a serial killer, or if he was one I wasn't one of his targets.

Eventually to get my mind off of Jeremiah and settled to just lay on the couch and watch whatever bad reality dating show Netflix tried to peddle this week. There was something oddly comforting letting the sounds of thirty year old adults with commitment issues keep me company. 

I had burned through the entire season within a few hours and now landed on the reunion episode where they'd all yell at each other and try to make viral moments out of it. As the host of the show began gaslighting their contestants on something they said I heard a car pull up outside.

Suddenly the door swung open with the Jeremiah carrying two suitcases and a disheveled appearance. He gave me a small wave without turning to face me. It reminded me so much of his first night but without the reek of alcohol. His vibrant blue eyes made it east to see the redness that circled around them.

Without another word he made his way into the guest room and closed the door behind him. The velocity of the door closing shut caused the photos on the wall to slightly shift.

It was apparent some shit went down but as a complete stranger to the Jeremiah Fisher universe, I didn't know if I had the right to ask him anything. Hell I wouldn't even know what to ask in this case.

It was obvious he had been crying. With eyes that crystal clear, it was impossible to hide that fact but what made him cry seemed like endless possibilities given the little context on his life he'd given me.