*author note: Hi all, thank you so much for reading I hope you are enjoying what is my first time writing any form of story. I just want to put a disclaimer in for this chapter due to the presence of mental health disorders. As someone who has lived with this for many years I just want to say I am using my own experience as inspiration and I do not want others to believe everyone experiences the same symptoms*

It had been just over a week since Tristan had told Miles to move on from him and in that week Miles had let himself go. He'd left the wedding at that moment with his sister shouting after him but it didn't feel right for him to stay. His bed had become his best friend and he'd spent the majority of his time there, only moving to go to the bathroom or in the moments his brother had forced him to eat. His sister had said she would postpone her honeymoon to be there for her brother but he had made her go though he knew she had been checking in on him every morning.

Miles knew what was happening to him but he didn't want to accept it. He'd dealt with depression throughout his time in London but due to his history of drug abuse and addiction, he had not been allowed to be medicated. He felt like he was drowning, water pulling him under taking all hope of breath away with it. The revelation last week of Tristan no longer wanting him had hit him much harder than anyone had expected. If they were honest, many of those there celebrating Frankie and Winston's wedding had though the pair would have gotten back together with Tristan dumping Hugo before the event. The fact this hadn't happened had shocked most including all of those who had gone to school with the pair.

There was a knock at the door. Miles grunted at it and the knocking got louder. He got up from the bed and unlocked the door to reveal Lola stood behind it. Miles and Lola had stayed in touch while Miles had been in London and was one of only a few who knew about his mental health problems while he was there. However, unlike his siblings and Winston, Lola didn't treat him like a child. When the pair had gotten together at school this was one of the main reasons Miles had felt so drawn to Lola and it was a trait she'd carried through into her adult years. She looked at him, "get dressed, we're going out." He tried to protest but before he knew it she had walked around the room finding clothes that would be acceptable for leaving the house in. She placed them in his hands, "I'll see you downstairs in 5." He nodded silently and shuffled his way to the bathroom.

Miles hadn't looked at himself in the mirror since that day and the face looking back at him seemed alien. The person in the reflection looked gaunt, pale with cheekbones protruding; they also had an unacceptable level of stubble thought Miles looking at down at his chin. Any normal day he would have removed the unsightly hair but for now he just had no motivation to do so. With a slow shaky hand he picked up his toothbrush, slowly brushing away the grime of the past few days. Next he took his comb in his hand and ran it a couple of time through his hair just to push the unruly strands out of his eyes. Feeling slightly more human he gave himself one last look in the mirror before giving a short nod and walking out of the bathroom.

"If you're not dressed in the next 2 minutes I will come up there and dress you myself," he heard Lola shout up the stairs. "I'm coming," he said exasperated. He slipped his shoes on and slowly made his way down the stairs. He'd had the curtains in his room drawn all week so the brightness of the sun shining through the windows disorientated him causing him to stumble on the stairs but saved himself before he landed flat on his face. Lola handed him a pair of sunglasses which he took gratefully giving her a slight smile. "Right, we're going out for lunch. Where shall we go?" "Can we go to Banh Mi Boys? God I've missed that place," Miles said tiredly. Lola replied with a short nod before ushering him out to the car.

The drive to the restaurant was quick but silent which Miles was thankful for, allowing him to collect his thoughts before Lola got him to speak about them. They took a table in a quiet spot towards the back of the room to give them more privacy, with Lola strategically making Miles sit with his back to the window to make sure he wouldn't catch a glimpse of the man who had broken his heart. They ordered before Lola gave him the look to start talking. "I don't know where you want me to start Lo." "Tell me what's going on in your head?" That was something he didn't want to do. "It's like I don't have any thoughts, I can't focus on anything and I've got no interest in going anywhere. It's like all meaning has been taken out of my life. Today's the first day I've brushed my teeth in a week." Lola looked at him not with sympathy but understanding, though she had never lived with depression herself. That was what was so amazing about Lola, she never judged anyone just wanted to help them when they needed help.

"What did you think was going to happen?" she questioned, not disapprovingly but due to sheer curiosity. "I don't know. I've thought about that moment every day since and just thought things would fall back to how they were before I left. When I left it was left that when I came back we would try again." "But you've not kept in contact." "I tried but every time I wrote that letter or email I couldn't send it." Lola gently took his hand "I think you knew deep down when you came back things would be different but you didn't want to believe it. I know I felt like that when we were together all those years ago. At one point I even thought you'd leave Tristan for me. Talking to someone independent helped, them not knowing anyone I was talking about allowed me to express all my feelings without it getting around my friends." "So you think I should go and see a psychiatrist?" Miles said blankly. "It's something I think you should look into. It might help with your depressive thoughts too considering." Lola dropped off, addiction being the only topic she struggled to talk to Miles about. He nodded playing with his noodles on his plate.

A psychiatrist was a scary thought but he was willing to try.