Friends Forever, huh?

bonus chapter | relapse

One day, Cole comes into the house with a special sort of desperation. He's barely inside the door when he rushes toward me so quickly that I barely notice the pain in his expression.  I catch a glimpse of the weariness in his eyes, but before my lips can form the words to ask him what's wrong, his lips are pressed to mine. There's a desperation in his kisses, an intensity in the way his lips move against mine. It's as if I'm his oxygen, keeping him steady.

I want to--need to--ask him wrong, but he keeps his lips on mine, an arm curled around my waist to keep me close to him. It's only when I taste the salt on his lips that I remember my feeling of alarm at the pain on his face.

I pull away, but his eyes remain closed. My hand moves to his cheek and he instinctually leans into it, but his eyes are still squeezed shut. My sense of alarm grows. Something is wrong.

"Cole," I say softly, rubbing my thumb across his cheek, "Are you okay?"

When Cole's response is a quick "I'm fine," I'm not surprised, but disappointed nonetheless. He doesn't let me press for details, instead pulling my lips back to his. The way he's kissing me feels wrong, as if he's using me as a drug to numb the pain of whatever's made him hurt like this.

"Cole," I mumble, "Stop kissing me." When he doesn't respond to my gentle command, I place a hand on his chest and push him back, "I know it's easier than talking, but I'm your wife. You forget that I've heard you say "I'm fine" a million times when you're actually anything but fine."

"I don't want to talk, Ashley." Cole responds, running a hand over his weary face, "I just want you. I don't want to talk. I can't..."

"You need t--"

My voice stops suddenly when I notice the streak of red on the sleeve of his white shirt. A feeling of unadulterated dread courses through my body and I stare at him in horror. I step forward at the same moment he steps back, pulling his hands together so I can't see his sleeves. The damage is already done, though. I can already assume the reasoning behind that bloodstain.

"Did you.." I begin, but bring my sentence to a halt, attempting to keep my voice steady. I must try to be strong for both of us. I can't risk him lying to me to prevent my pain, I need the truth.

"You're cutting again, aren't you?"

He shakes his head adamantly, but when I step forward to strip back his sleeve, he doesn't protest. His eyes are pained but it seems as if he wanted me to see through his lie and acknowledge his brokenness.

My suspicions are confirmed as I see the fresh cuts on his wrist. His behavior in the last few moments made me suspect this, but that doesn't stop all the air from getting sucked out of my lungs at the sight.

To be quite honest, I want to drop to my knees right there. I want to release the sudden tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I want to acknowledge the massive pain his self-mutilation has caused me.

I can't. I have to be strong for him. For both of us.

"It's been years," my voice cracks, " I thought you were out of the woods. I thought..."

"I thought I was stronger than this..." Cole completes my sentence in a tone so broken that I want to pull him into my arms and hold him until his broken parts fuse back together.