The Trials of Being Loved

Part 34 - Survive! Orca, Survive...

New had realized, about 10 minutes into the drive, that Off wasn't taking him back to his new hideout, but to Tay's condominium, so Off had pulled over. 

They argued. No, Off basically told New it was time to grow up, in no uncertain terms. It was time to stop running from everyone who cared for him, that not everyone who had feelings was going to hurt him. It was time to stop being defensive, to let people in. 

New shriveled beneath the scolding, having already seen himself through Tay's eyes in Tam's house and not liking himself very much. In fact, he was one step away from having a full blown meltdown already and here he was, being rebuked like a naughty five year old!

Pouting, New crossed his arms. "I know that already, Off, so shut it. Where were you, to say all this shit before things got this bad? So just shut the fuck up already." He could feel his hands trembling. This wasn't a good sign. Not a good sign at all. 

Off slammed the steering wheel with both hands. "You're a damn idiot, Newwie. What was stopping you from picking up the phone and calling me for help? Even that dumbass called me when he was confused? Maybe I need to rethink on which one of you is the intelligent one, the adult." He looked sideways, then turned in the seat. "New? Newwie? Are you alright?"

"Fuck you, you asshole!" New shouted back, his head buried in his knees. "Leave me the fuck alone. Just stop talking for a while, okay?"

Worried, Off sent a text to Tam, and when he didn't reply right away, sent one to Ms. Tam. The reply was simple: Ask him. Groaning softly, Off sucked up his courage, "New, this is more than just be defensive and not wanting to be hurt, isn't it? What is really going on?"

~~~~~~~~~~

New had known Off for a long time, but he'd known Gun even longer. Gun knew his secret, having found him having a breakdown on a set one day. He never knew how Gun managed to get him off the set without his manager knowing, or even how he got through that high, but he did know he owed his career to Gun. 

His head buried in his knees, rocking back and forth, his mind racing a mile a minute, he wondered, should he speak up? Did he have the courage to say those damn words, and let another person into his hellish world? 

Without raising his head, he spoke softly, "I'm sick, Off. I have a mental illness." His arms clasped his knees even tighter. He could feel it, the spinning out of control beginning and not wanting to fight anymore. "Go to the nearest hotel and get me a room - now."

He could hear Off speaking but it was as if he was underwater and Off wasn't. The words were garbled. Suddenly, there was light and he blinked rapidly, until things began to focus. "Didn't you hear me... I..."

"Fuck that, New! Talk to me, tell me what the fuck is going on. I can help." The words were harsh, but his tone wasn't. New looked down, and realized that Off held his hand, and was patting it, the way you do with a child. 

He snorted. "Now isn't the time. I feel too sad, and..." He took a deep breath. "If I talk right now, I will fuck it all up and then I will want to kill myself." He waited for the look on Off's face to change, get angry or disgusted the way normal people always did, when he talked to them. Or the savior look, where they decided that they could change him, like his therapist had. 

Only his psychologist had understood, that it wasn't his fault. He didn't have conscious control these thoughts, or actions. A swift tug on his hand reminded him that he wasn't alone. New raised his eyes back to Off. 

Pleading. Off was actually begging with his eyes! New swiftly inhaled. That was something he'd never seen in person, but Gun had told him about it. He'd laughed, saying that Off was an actor, of course he could do it. But this wasn't acting, this was real. Off cared and so he showed it. "New, talk to me. I will help you."