Okay

.13.

I fucking hate this apartment.

I still haven't unpacked, rifling through a couple boxes when I'm forced to put on clothes and go out. Turns out working remote is even more isolating and depressing than pretending I'm happy and life is great.

My clothes are wrinkled from having lived in them for the third straight day. I almost showered and changed my clothes but really I won't see Mo until tomorrow so there's no real threat of anyone coming by.

Because I have no one.

I'm fucking alone.

That thought weighs down on me, threatening to crush my chest. I wish it would just do it already, put me out of my fucking misery. Get me off of everyone's problem list.

My eyes burn as I stare at the screen of my laptop, I haven't been able to focus on anything, the new project I'm supposed to be overseeing not sparking any interest in me.

I need a break. 

The balcony calls my name like it always does. Beckoning me too it like it's some sultry conniving woman with too much brains and ample beauty looking to prey on the freshest meat. And not a single man can resist her charm, not even me. But it's not like I'd ever try that hard to.

Shoving myself off the couch, the plastic wrap it came in still partially on the side I never sit on crinkles from my movement. I rake my hair back, it's greasy and stays where my fingers place it.

I push the sliding door open, stepping out to the sound of engines roaring some ten floors below me. In hindsight, renting this particular apartment probably wasn't the smartest for my longevity. A sad, pathetic laugh rumbles in my throat at the thought and I place my hands on the metal railing and look down at life below me. 

I could just swing myself over and down I'd go.

Images of the overpass flash through my mind. The night sky, spreading my arms wide as I said goodbye to the few people that mattered. I took too long on that part, thats where I went wrong. But I wanted to make sure that the last thing I sent out into the world was a list of apologies to hopefully fix all that I had fucked up. I should have just jumped. Then Mo wouldn't have been there to stop me in time.

My hands wring around the bar as I think about now. Right now. No one's there to catch me now. No one to stop me, tell me that I am worth it even though they're lying. Telling me that it'll pass. It doesn't pass. And clearly therapy isn't doing much.

I lift up on my toes, my muscles flexing in my arms as I start to lift one of my legs to the rail when there's a knock on my door. The sound sneaking out onto the balcony, drawing my attention.

I freeze, partially climbing the railing as I stare at the door. Torn between continuing on and seeing who possibly could have came by to see me. Or maybe it's that old lady next door, thinking she locked herself out of her apartment again but really she just got confused which door was hers.

They knock again and I groan, putting my feet back down on the ground. I'll feel like shit if that old lady starts to panic like the first day she woke me from a drunken slumber frantic and nearly in tears. It took me close to an hour to figure out who she was and where she lived. Turns out she's got dementia and is still living alone, never remarried after her divorce some thirty years prior. I ran into her daughter a few days later.

I pull the door open, not bothering to look through the peephole only to see Holt standing outside the door, staring at the ground, Blue at his feet.

"Hey. What're you doing here?" I ask him.

His eyes dart up to me, a small smile on his face.

"I'm home for a few." He says. "Coach Mo gave me your address."

I stay in the doorway, suddenly feeling a little ashamed of the state in which I'm living. Mo hasn't even been in my apartment since I moved in. I always slip out the door as fast as I can or meet him wherever he's decided we should go.

"Cool, man." I glance over my shoulder, the sink piled with empty to go containers because I've been too lazy to dig out dishes or go to the store. "Uh my place is sort of a mess. Haven't been home much since I moved in."

"It's okay." Holt says simply. "We don't care."

So even though the last thing I want to do is reveal the state of my apartment, I let him in.

He takes a look around, Blue never leaving his side. The dog is ridiculously fit and still very much stuck to Holt. I watch Holt reach down slightly, something he does when his ptsd and panic attacks try to flare. Blue meets his hand in an instant.

I've been jealous of Holt and Blue on more than one occasion. Even thought about getting a dog at one point but Jaelyn shot it down immediately. She didn't want to have to take care of two helpless things.

"I was about to jump in the shower." I tell Holt. "Do you mind?"

"No. We're okay." He tells me.

He's still reaching for Blue, the dog pressing closer to him.

"You sure?" He's not.

His head bobs but he doesn't say anything. "There's a nice view on the balcony. If you want to check it out. Five minutes and I'll be out."

I'm screaming at myself for being a lazy fuck and as much as I don't want to leave Holt while he's trying to manage his shit I'm also aware of how disgusting I am. And its embarrassing.

So I leave Holt with Blue, the dogs always been better at helping him than I ever have and race through a shower.

As promised I'm out in five minutes and rifle through a box in my room for clothes. By the time I'm back out in the living room, Holt's out on the balcony, him and Blue looking out over the railing.

"Hey sorry." I say, my hair still damp even though I tried to style it. "So how's basketball going?"

"Good. Training is pretty intense right now." He says.

He's still lanky like he was in high school, I'm sure incredibly fit, all sinew and muscle.

"I can only imagine. I don't know how you do it man." I smile, folding my arms on the railing next to Blue.

I look down at the street below, thinking about how just a few minutes ago the remainder of my body could have been splattered across the concrete. If Holt hadn't knocked when he did.

"How's Blue been?" I give the dog a scratch behind the ear, his head turning to smile at me, tongue out, living his best life.

"Good, I think he's excited to be home for a little bit." Holt says. "He's good in season but everything's a little intense."

I think it's more Holt who's happy to be home, Blue doesn't care where they're at as long as they're together.

"Now that you're back in town I'll send you some tickets to games." Holt says. "I-if you want."

                              ————————

Double update because well you know, I'm the shit. You're welcome (holy crap I just forgot how to spell you're and then didn't trust autocorrect 🤣).  @Rensk3n you're very persuasive as usual.