Herb came home from work hoping to see Bojack in literally any other place than on the couch. His hopes fall flat though when he walks through the front door and sees the horse in the exact same position he was when he left.

Sitting on the couch. Eating junk food. And watching TV.

Although to Bojack's credit, this morning he was eating popcorn and watching Horsin Around reruns. But now he was eating chips and watching a DVD of Secretariat. Which means at some point he must have at least stood up to get more snacks and put in the movie.

This had become a depressing routine for the couple for the past year. Herb would leave for work, and Bojack would…. Do whatever he did while Herb was gone. Never going anywhere, talking to anybody, or doing anything of subsistence. Things had been incredibly difficult for them in the years following their outing. Thankfully, their Horsin Around residuals paid the bills just fine, but psychologically, they were still struggling. It had taken a year already before they even started getting job offers in again. Herb had jumped at the opportunity to work again, getting out of the house, back into the world, and out of the compounded depression cloud that had been looming over their home. But Bojack was far more apprehensive. Herb's small writing jobs kept him busy enough, but Bojack had fallen into old habits quickly, and he had completely shrunken away from the world.

The only upside was that now that they were in LA it was a little easier for Herb to get him to go outside. But the horse still refused to make any attempt at working again, convinced his career was over no matter what anyone said. In the rare moments he even considered the concept that he could still act, he would refuse to even look at any offers that were not above an extremely high and unrealistic quality.

And unlike the times this had happened before, for a long while, Herb let the horse be. More often than not he found himself skirting around the obstacles of garbage and dirty laundry that seemed to accumulate around the horse without a second thought about it. For a long time he turned a blind eye to how much Bojack was sleeping, and how little he ate anything of substance.

He understood where his husband was coming from, and how he was still processing what had happened to them. And maybe he thought that given some time and a little encouragement, Bojack would be okay, like all the times before. Sometimes a part of him felt guilty for even worrying. Other times he couldn't go ten minutes without thinking about all the ways he could help.

Early on, in what would soon become a noticeable and steep decline in their mental health, Herb had insisted that he and Bojack regularly see their therapists. And the horse at least managed to do that. Although... Herb had a sick feeling that that was no longer the case, because for the past few weeks Bojack had been acting strangely. And his once rant-length responses to the question "how was therapy?", (annoying although consistent), had suddenly been reduced to suspicious one word responses.

Herb wasn't exactly excited about what he needed to do, but it had been almost two years now, and he'd had too many sleepless nights and stressful days worrying about Bojack's health and state of mind. He knew that the horse needed an extra push, and Herb had been nudging him gently for months to no avail, now it was time for a shove.

He sighed heavily and took his time entering the living room. Setting his work bag down and walking around the couch to stand near the horse, he ran his fingers through his mane affectionately.

"Hey BJ."

The horse just barely looked up from the TV, craning his neck without breaking his eye contact with the movie. "Hey Baby. How was your day?"

Herb crossed his arms over the back of the couch and hummed, "Fine. I got to talk with one of the producers of "Krill and Grace" today, he's a hamster. He actually writes for the show too. Was really nice, knew what he was talking about, you know?" He cleared his throat and tried to seem casual, "Say... Did you go to that meeting you had with Marv today?"

Bojack shrugged disinterestedly, "Nah, I canceled."

Herb's heart dropped a little at that, though he knew what the answer was going to be even before he asked. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "Bojack, you had an appointment, why didn't you go?"

Bojack scoffed, "Aw come on Herb, I was coming up to the finale of Horsin Around! What, am I supposed to do, not watch it?"

Herb cleared his throat and carefully began the speech he had been workshopping in the mirror for days. "BJ... I know things have been… difficult, for us, for a while now... But I don't think you moping around the house all the time, and shunning the outside world is particularly healthy."

"I'm not moping." The horse snaps as he shoves a handful of chips in his mouth.

"Oh my fucking god." Herb reaches over and grabs the bowl out of Bojack's hands and sets it on the coffee table, ignoring his whines of protest. He takes a moment to collect himself, trying to keep from losing his cool. "Bojack… You can't... You can't keep doing this. You can't flake on everything and just stay home all day watching yourself on TV and eating junk."

"Hey that's not fair, sometimes I watch other people on TV too!"

Herb rubs at his eyes and continues, "Your therapist said you were depressed, and I think that-"

Bojack butts in before he can finish, "Okay, fine, sure, I'm a little depressed, but I'm not depressed, depressed." He waves his hands in the air and forces a chuckle, "I don't have depression."

Herb frowns and his hands twitch before he makes his decision. He reaches into his back pocket, and takes out the prescription sheet he found crumpled up in Bojack's nightstand a week ago. He holds it out to him, "Bojack, when did Dr. Indira give you this?"

Bojack stares at it quietly for a long time before he mutters, "Where did you get that?"

Herb purses his lips and steels himself, standing up a little straighter, "I think you know where I got it from. Bojack, when?"

"... A few months ago, why does it matter?"

"A few months- !" Herb slaps a hand to his face and groans, "BJ… "

Bojack sits up and gestures desperately around him, "Herb, come on, you worry too much! I'm just decompressing, I'm relaxing, enjoying life, really!"

"This," Herb gestures, frustrated, around the living room, at the piles of garbage, half-eaten bowls of food, and the movie now paused on the TV. "This is not 'enjoying life'. You can't keep making up excuses like this Bojack." Herb doesn't mean to raise his voice but it happens anyway as he gets worked up. "You haven't done anything with yourself since we got outed. You can't just throw away your life like this!"

Bojack doesn't mean to raise his voice either, he really doesn't. But years of growing up in an abusive household has conditioned him to match Herb's energy, and he stands to face the smaller man head-on. "Maybe if Marv brought me anything good, I'd actually do it!" He crosses his arms angrily, "And by the way Mr. Writer, it's a lot harder for me to get a job than you."

Herb takes a deep breath and tries to lower his voice, "Whether or not that's true… you can't just keep running and hiding from your problems like this."

Bojack sneers at him and crosses his arms, "I don't run from my problems. 'Cause if I did, I wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

Herb shook his head and grit his teeth together to keep from yelling more. "You need to get out of the house and do… something. Anything!" He runs his hands through his hair exasperatingly, "Get a hobby or something, I don't know! I want you to be happy you jackass, but you won't even talk to me about this stuff anymore. W- what does Dr. Indira say about all this?"

Bojack's eyes widened and he stiffened up, his mouth clapping shut quickly.

Herb's eyes narrowed, "BJ?"

The horse started wringing his hands together nervously, looking anywhere but the other man's face. "Uh, she said that I could take my time, f- for the record. And I am."

Herb frowned, "And when did she say that?"

The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Bojack cleared his throat gingerly, "A few weeks ago. And, I… haven't seen her since."

Herb's entire demeanor shifted, and his voice became as hard and cold as his gaze, running shivers down Bojack's spine. "Why?"

The horse hung his head and remained silent.

Herb ran his hands down his face and groaned, trying to keep his frustration in check. "I asked one thing of you, and you..." Herb puffed up with indignation opening and closing his mouth multiple times in an effort to find the right words to make sense of all that was happening inside his brain at the moment. But all attempts to express himself dispelled in an instant before he all but deflated, his anger and feelings of betrayal gone and replaced by nothing short of hurt and heartache. He shook his head and looked back up at the horse with the most dejected expression. "BJ… why?"

Bojack turned away from him and took a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts, "When we were outed Herb. It felt, all the time, like I was drowning. But... there was an understanding that we were drowning together." He started to pace the room anxiously, "And at some point I realized that you were managing to keep your head above water, while I kept sinking. You went out and started working again, you work hard and don't give up on anything. Or on me, even though you probably should... " He stopped and shook his head slowly, willing away tears, "But it's always been that way hasn't it? You can swim, and I can't, so I either cling to you, or worse, end up pulling you down with me. Those pills are just gonna be a constant reminder that I couldn't handle it myself... That I really am broken."

It was clear that Bojack was on the verge of tears. Maybe it wasn't as clear to someone who didn't know him that well, but to Herb, Bojack was as easy to read as a billboard. And he knew, better than anyone, that Bojack didn't cry in front of other people. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen it happen himself, and knew it was a very serious matter of the horse's emotional state.

Herb's voice softened and he closed the distance that was made between them, reaching out to put a hand on Bojack's shoulder. "I don't think that way about you BJ… And that's not how people work, but this is why I'm pushing you. I can't be the only thing keeping you from drowning, you need to learn to swim on your own…" He moves around the horse to look at him face to face. "I love you BJ, and if you love me, you'll take these steps to learn." He holds the prescription form out to him, a pleading look on his face, "You need to meet me halfway here."

Bojack stares down at the prescription sheet in Herb's hand but makes no motion to take it from him.

Herb presses, practically begging, "You gotta do this for me BJ… please."

Bojack swallows the lump in his throat, "What if... I take these pills and I become a completely different person? What if you don't even recognize me anymore?"

Herb frowns and his eyebrows knit together, "I don't even recognize you now."

Bojack's eyes widen and he grimaces, turning away from the other man, he goes back to the couch and sits down.

Herb sits with him and gently rubs his back, "BJ listen, just... get the prescription filled, take them until they're gone, and then, if you want to, we can discuss trying something else. Okay?"

If Bojack was being honest with himself, he would much rather do nothing. It was a hell of a lot easier than doing something. And he couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him it won't matter if he takes the meds anyway, because he'll always be broken no matter what. But, despite that, there's also a teeny tiny voice that reminds him that Herb is usually right about these things, and maybe he should trust him.

And maybe he was getting bored watching Horsin Around and Secretariat all the time. Maybe he was tired of eating himself sick on junk food every day. Maybe he didn't like seeing his boyfriend upset and worried about him constantly. Maybe the tears threatening to form at the corner of Herb's eyes right now made his chest feel so tight he had trouble breathing. Maybe he could try the pills, just for a little while… Maybe…

Bojack sighed heavily and met Herb's gaze.

"Okay."

Bojack folded and unfolded the prescription sheet nervously in his hands as he wandered through the aisles of a pharmacy in West Hollywood.

After the talk he had with Herb yesterday he had promised to get his long-overdue prescription filled first-thing today. He knew that Herb was probably pacing the house just waiting for him to return. Bojack had just barely managed to convince the man that he didn't need to come with him, and he needed to trust the horse to fill it himself. But as soon as he gets home he knows that Herb'll want to see the pills himself, just to be sure that Bojack actually got them.

He had finally worked up the nerve to come inside after sitting in his car outside for over half an hour. But now he found he was going to need to psyche himself up even more just to exchange the form for the medication. After his third pass through the eldercare section, Bojack finally got sick of looking at the packages for adult diapers, and he peeked over the aisles at the Pharmacy counter, and seeing that there was no line, decided it was now or never.

He walked up to the counter and handed the pharmacist his slip. She eyed it suspiciously for a moment, probably because it was very visibly worn, having been messed with by Bojack's nervous hands since Dr. Indira gave it to him over a week ago. As he refused to use it, but also refused to throw it away. She turns into the back to fill the prescription and he's left alone.

He can't help but fidget and positions his hands to hold tight onto the edge of the counter to stop himself from bailing on this whole endeavor. His mind races with desperate, crazy thoughts as he waits. How long does it take to fill a prescription? This whole thing is a fools errand. The pills aren't even gonna work he bets. Maybe he could just leave now and hide out at Princess Carolyn's place for a while, she'd probably let him. Maybe he could just change his name and move to his family's cabin in Maine, no one would care enough about him up there to make him take antidepressants. Maybe he could drive down to New Mexico and stay with Charlotte and Kyle, they just had another baby, he could help out with-

"Sir?" The pharmacist's voice breaks through his manic thoughts.

He shakes his head and returns to reality, "H- huh?"

She holds a small white and blue paper bag out to him, "Your medication, Sir."

He pays and makes a beeline back to the parking lot. When he gets out to his car he opens the bag and plops the orange bottle out. He turns it around in his hands and small blue pills rattle around inside as he inspects it. He brought the bottle up to his ear and shook it, just to hear the rattling, and immediately regrets it. The sound sent shivers down his spine and reminded him of a time during his early days on Horsin Around, when he would take bottles like this and down the contents without a second thought. Usually waking up upside down on his coffee table, or in Bellican's parking lot, and one time he thinks he can vaguely remember waking up in his bed, soaking wet and covered in tapioca pudding for some reason.

He sighed heavily and popped open the bottle, the powdery, plastic-y smell of the container and its contents making him a little nauseous. Before he could think over think it any more, he took a pill out and popped it into his mouth. He quickly closed the bottle and threw it back into the bag, tossing it onto the passenger seat.

He took a deep breath, started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. And despite his apprehension, or his passing annoyance at his husband's insistence on these pills, he was starting to think that maybe they could help a little...

Maybe...