Nicholas came home to find the TV and a lamp on and an open drink on the table. "I guess Steve's been here." He yawned, stretching, as he turned off the TV.

He went to his bedroom, finding a pair of shorts and t-shirt to wear to bed. After changing clothes, Nicholas wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He was still looking at what was inside it when the front door started to open, then closed again.

"What was that?" Nicholas glanced out the window. "Oh. It's Steve and Soda." He opened the door and stuck his head out. "Coming inside?"

"You didn't have to come, Soda," Steve said. "I promised, didn't I? And it's late. You should've stayed home."

"Not a chance, man. You should've known you'd be stuck with me for the night, especially since you didn't know if your dad was home," Soda said.

"What's going on?" Nicholas asked. "Everything okay?"

Soda looked at Nicholas, then at Steve. "Go in and talk to him, Stevie. I'll stay out here. I just want to make sure you do it."

Nicholas looked from Soda to Steve. "What's wrong? If you need to tell me something, we can talk."

"This is making me wish I'd never opened my mouth tonight," Steve said, his hands over his eyes, as he sat in the middle of his dad's bed.

"I'm guessing I'm going to be glad you did since Sodapop wouldn't have insisted on making sure you talk to me right now if it wasn't serious." Nicholas sat on the edge of his bed. "What's going on, Son?"

"Dad, I- I'm afraid because I have these thoughts, and they won't go away." Steve stared at the comforter on the bed, elbows resting on his crossed legs. "They've been there before, and they're back again."

"Thoughts? What have you been thinking about?"

"I don't mean to think them. They just happen."

"Okay. So what's in them?"

"Please don't be mad at me. I'm not going to do it."

Nicholas reached out and gripped Steve's shoulder. "Son, I couldn't be angry at you for anything you're thinking."

Steve turned his head to face the wall, still feeling his dad's hand on his shoulder. "They're thoughts about killing myself."

Nicholas took in a sharp breath, but didn't let go of Steve. "What happened tonight?"

Steve's gaze fell to his lap. "I didn't really feel like being out. I was with Evie, but it wasn't because of her. It was this, and I wanted to go home. So I took her home, and when I got here, you were gone."

Nicholas moved closer to Steve, sitting right beside him. "So what did you do?"

"I was here for a few minutes. I tried to distract myself, but I didn't want to be alone. So I went to Soda's."

"Were you afraid to be alone?"

"Yeah. I wasn't even going to tell Soda at first, but I think I really wanted to tell somebody. I'm sorry, Dad." Steve pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, willing the coming tears away.

Nicholas reached for Steve's hands and gently pulled them away from his face, covering them with both of his own. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I didn't tell anybody when I know I should have. Laura even asked once, and I didn't tell her."

Nicholas squeezed both of Steve's hands. "It's all right, Son."

"I don't want to die, but when I'm alone and those thoughts are there, I don't know how to make them stop." Steve lowered his head, letting it fall on their intertwined hands.

Nicholas saw Steve's shoulders begin to shake, as he started to sob. He released his son's hands and wrapped him in his arms, his own vision clouded with tears. "You're going to be okay. You've been through a lot, Stevie. You can get through this too."

"I don't want to do it. Please believe me. I don't want to hurt myself." Steve still cried, his head on Nicholas' chest. "But it makes me afraid I will. I'm sorry. I don't want to feel this way."

Nicholas held him tighter. "No, you don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault at all. I know you don't want to hurt like that." He placed a kiss on top of Steve's head. "I'm glad you told me. I love you so much, and I'm not angry. I can't even think of being mad at you, Son."

"It's real tough to talk about this. I just want it to stop." Steve pulled away, wiping his eyes.

"I know. Please tell me how I can help. You know I'll do anything you need."

Steve's eyes drifted to the ceiling, as he looked up, then met Nicholas' gaze. "Please pray for me, Dad."

"Please tell me he talked to you," Soda said from his spot on the couch, when he saw Nicholas opening a hall closet.

"He's asleep now, but he did." Nicholas pulled a pillow and blanket down and tossed them to Soda. "Crash on the couch."

"Thanks." Soda set the pillow and blanket down. "It got late, but I had to make sure, you know?"

Nicholas raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. You're a damn good friend."

"Steve would do the same for me."

"That's true."

"There was no way he could tell me that and I'd just go on about my damn night, like it was nothing." Soda unfolded the blanket, spreading it out. "I mean, I know I can't make anything better, but that's not going to fuckin' stop me from being there."

"Sodapop?"

Soda pushed the pillow against the arm of the couch, keeping his hand on it. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"It's so hard to know-" Soda clenched the pillow case in his fist. "I mean, so hard to think about..."

"I know."

"I'm not mad at him. Please don't think that." Tears swam in Soda's eyes. "I just hate that he hurts that bad. It scares me to death."

Nicholas sat down on the edge of the coffee table, in front of Soda. "Me too. Believe me, tonight when he first said he had thoughts about killing himself, then was home alone, I thought it was even worse."

Soda clenched his eyes shut. "Don't tell him anything that I just said."

Nicholas reached over and squeezed Soda's shoulder. "I won't."

"Steve was begging me to believe he doesn't want to think like that. He kept saying he doesn't want to die and to please believe him. I fuckin' know that!" Soda's hands shook, as he wiped the tears from his face. "Of course I believe him!"

"He said those same things to me. It's okay, Soda."

"Sorry. I know this ain't easy for you either."

"Don't apologize. It's not, but that's exactly why I know where you're coming from. Steve kept saying he was sorry, like I could be mad at him." Nicholas let go of Soda's shoulder. "For what? For hurting? I couldn't be if I tried."

"Did he tell you when this started?"

"No, and I didn't ask. He was falling apart."

"That was what he started with telling me. He kept saying I wasn't wrong before. I didn't know what the hell that meant." Soda rested his chin in his hand, leaning on the arm of the couch. He looked at the floor, then at Nicholas. "No wonder he didn't want to be alone. I wouldn't either."

"So what did that mean? About you not being wrong."

"It's about that day I was worried he might be about to kill himself, and you and me were both looking everywhere for him. Even though he told us the truth and wasn't going to do it, Steve said he had those thoughts then too."

Nicholas bowed his head, closing his eyes. "Jesus."

"But he said he didn't know, not until after I told him what I thought. I guess that was another thing in his head he couldn't face yet."

"I wish I really knew what to do."

"That's why he's got to talk to Laura. I'm sure she'll know something. I keep thinking of that day Steve was drinking early in the morning and broke up with Evie, then blew up at me. I don't remember if I told you then what he said about dying?"

"No, I don't believe you did. Seems like I'd remember."

"I asked him if he was sure he didn't want to die because of how he was acting and how he seemed to ready to give up on everything. He told me yeah, he was sure, but it had crossed his mind." Soda sighed, resting against the back of the couch.

"So he kind of almost told you then."

"When he said that, it worried me, but so did that whole day. I makes me wish I had asked what he meant."

"I don't think he would've gone any further into it. Not then. There was too much he hadn't dealt with yet." Nicholas patted Soda's knee, before standing to his feet. "You get some sleep."

Nicholas let his head hit the pillow, the tears he had fought since he held Steve in his arms slipping down his cheeks. He prayed in a choked whisper. "God, thank you for protecting my son tonight." He swallowed hard. "This could be worse. Please don't let me have to think about losing him. No matter what he thinks or feels, please don't let him hurt himself. Please."

Nicholas closed his eyes, just letting himself cry. He'd shed so many tears for Steve's pain and for his own. He had suspected Steve was keeping something to himself in an effort to maintain a front of stability in the face of emotions time could not heal, but nothing could have prepared him to listen to his son sob, saying he doesn't want to die. Nothing could've made Nicholas ready to hear Steve's pleas of apology and his agonizing fear that he would hurt himself in response to the relentless thoughts that were so troubling his mind.

Nicholas spotted the Bible on the nightstand next to his bed. Turning over, he reached for it and flipped it open, sitting up. He didn't know where to look, but Steve's voice asking him to pray for him echoed in his mind. His son had been sincere this time, truly seeking any kind of comfort or guidance, even from a God he was hesitant to trust.

Nicholas found himself in 1 Kings, reading chapter nineteen about the prophet, Elijah. None of Rose's notes were on these verses, but he found he understood easily what was happening. He didn't need an explanation to make clear Elijah's despair, having heard a sadness so similar tonight.

"But he himself went a day's journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a broom tree; and he asked that he might die, saying 'It is enough now, O Lord, taking away my life, for I am no better than my fathers."

Nicholas pulled the green ribbon bookmark from where it lay and placed it where he was reading to hold the place. He wanted to remember Elijah, who he knew little about, but now would think of as the prophet who had felt much like Steve did right now.

"And he lay down and slept under a broom tree, and behold, an angel touched him, and said to him, 'Arise and eat." And he looked, and behold, there was at his head a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water. And he ate and drank and lay down again. And the angel of the Lord came again a second time, and touched him, and said, 'Arise and eat, else the journey will be too great for you.' And he arose, and ate and drank, and went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the Mount of God."

God took care of him, Nicholas thought. When Elijah was so discouraged and felt he'd been through enough in life, he prayed to die, God sent him, rest, food, and an angel. He didn't tell him he shouldn't feel that way or turn his back on him. He listened and sent Elijah help.

Nicholas prayed again. "God, please do the same for my son. Take care of him, just like you did Elijah."

Steve's eyes popped open, wide as he took in his surroundings. He pulled his pillow over his ears, as he turned over, trying to fall back asleep, despite the spinning thoughts and memories.

Hearing a crash, Steve jumped, as he felt his heart pounding. He looked toward his bedroom door, putting a hand to his chest, as his stomach was overcome with nausea.

Steve bolted from his bed and into the hallway, stumbling into the bathroom just in time to expel the contents of his stomach. As he heaved, he felt a hand on his back and flinched away, shaking.

"Easy, buddy. It's just me," Soda said, as he pulled his hand back, but kneeled down next to Steve. "You came from nowhere so fast, I had to check on you."

Steve held his stomach and continued to heave, his head still spinning. He felt Soda's hand on his back again for a moment, then heard a drawer open and water running. A cool cloth touched his neck, as Soda kneeled beside him once more.

Steve's stomach relaxed, but he kept his head on the toilet seat, his eyes closed.

"You going to be all right now?" Soda asked.

"I thought you went home. You weren't supposed to see that."

"I told you you were stuck with me for the night." Soda reached over and flushed the toilet, before sitting against the bath tub. "Yeah, not one of your finer moments, but it's okay."

Steve lifted his head up and grabbed the wash cloth from his neck, running it over his face. He held it there, soaking in the coolness, as he moved to sit against the wall. "I woke up and was trying to go back to sleep."

"Yeah?"

"I think I'd been dreaming about...you know, like I have before. I don't know if it was just in my head or what, but I heard something. It's the middle of the night, and I was in bed so..." Steve sighed. "You get it."

Soda looked down, covering his face. "Yeah. Damn."

Steve let the wash cloth fall into his lap. "What?"

"It was me you heard. I dropped a bowl, one of those metal ones. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, buddy."

"It just slipped."

"Well, at least I know I wasn't just hearing things now." Steve grinned. "What were you getting into this time of night anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I got hungry." Soda got to his feet. "Speaking of, I need to go clean up whatever was in that bowl." He walked away, his head still down.

Steve stood up and put the wash cloth in the sink, rubbing his eyes. "Man, what a rough night." He left the bathroom, going to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and saw Soda in front of the refrigerator sweeping up the last of the leftover chicken and rice that had been in the bowl he dropped. Steve got a glass and filled it with water, sipping it slowly.

Soda finished cleaning, putting the metal bowl in the sink and the broom next to the trash can before disappearing to the front porch.

Steve noticed the look still on Soda's face. "Damn it." He set the water down and followed his friend.

Soda had just lit a cigarette when he saw Steve next to him. "I'm sorry."

"I already told you it's okay. I guess I just don't do too great with things going bump in the night, and I had already been dreaming."

Soda took a long drag off his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke.

Steve patted Soda's back. "It was just an accident, man."

Soda inhaled one more time, before he put the cigarette out and tossed it away, then turned to go back inside. He felt Steve touch his shoulder, then managed a small grin. "I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me."

Steve nodded, then followed Soda back into the house. He picked up the glass of water and filled it back up, as his friend tossed himself onto the couch. Soda turned over to face away from Steve and covered his head with the blanket.

Steve took a few more sips of water before deciding to head back to bed. "Night, man."

Soda didn't turn over to look at Steve. "Night."

"You can relax. I'm okay."

"I know."

Steve watched Soda for a moment before going back to his bedroom, where he fell into a deep sleep.