Many things had changed, not all of them good.
For one, he lost the new job, he probably could have stayed, forced himself to work there. He had gotten extremely angry at someone, within the first hour of being there. He knew it would eventually fall apart because he couldn't control his anger as well anymore. So he left.
The day he nearly lost it all, remained fresh in his mind.
She hadn't been doing so well. He was extremely concerned, all his alters; save one, were. He let his emotion control him, and in doing that, nearly lost everything. He was thoroughly convinced she was going to end herself, and so he quite literally broke the door of her apartment. At that action, she told him, it was over between them. He couldn't fathom why. He knew, the door was a massive issue, something he shouldn't have done, but he had only done it because he was so convinced of what he thought she was about to do. She was..., in his mind, all that he had. All he had been fighting for. And he had just lost it all, in one emotional fit. Because he didn't stop to think logically about the situation. Because he didn't listen.
Her words effortlessly shattered him. He couldn't stop the tears that cascaded nor the shakiness as he tried to draw breath. She ordered him to leave but he couldn't make himself obey. He was utterly shellshocked. He was unable to believe what had transpired. Because of his own foolishness. He was so convinced, that he couldn't see the reason and acted without thought, on impulse.
She called his roommate, telling her to come get him somehow, vaguely explaining the details of what transpired.
Once she had left him upon the porch for a moment, he broke an old promise, he hit himself, repeatedly. He knocked his glasses off his face but retrieved them before she reappeared.
Clarity had returned, he knew what he had to do, now that everything he had ever wanted and more, was gone and there was no way he was getting it back. Still, his body didn't want to obey and leave her. Somehow, she wrested his plan from his traitorous lips, and she threatened to call the one family member that he actually cared about. She threatened to call all of his family, to make sure he couldn't do it. He brokenly asked her why, it was what he had to do. He had everything and lost it. He had no further reason to continue to even try. He hadn't wanted to try anymore. It had been five or six years, he had lost everything that made him himself. Losing her, the thing that had sparked his will to live again, had destroyed him. She refused to back down and return his phone or his keys to him. He had hit himself again, repeatedly, but his back had been to her, he hadn't known she saw. He knocked his glasses from his face again. They fell into the grass. She had helped him regain them, but did not return them, and also managed to wrest his other possessions. He stubbornly insisted he could walk to the store to buy what he needed, to do as he needed to.
Somehow, she convinced him to go on a car ride with her, after he made her swear she wasn't taking him to a family member's or the hospital. She kept his glasses, phone, and keys, and they drove in silence. He could barely see anything without his glasses, so he was unsure of their destination.
When they arrived, she told him to get out of the car. He stood stiffly beside the car, as he heard her walk over to him. He couldn't look at her, staring instead off above her shoulder.
She asked him why, listed reasons, and all those things. At first, he resisted, saying he was dangerous to be around. He was volatile at times. She argued she could be just as much. But together, they could work on themselves. They could help each other.
When she asked him what he wanted, her or to go through with his plan, he couldn't answer right away. A large part of him clamored for death, as it always did, but another part, a small part, the part that harbored hope for a better future, hesitated and wanted her. He answered her with the fact that he hesitated indicated he did not truly want death. Because if he did, he would not have hesitated.
But gazing at her, the offer she dangled before him, his resolve for death was weakened enough.
He had a bruise on his cheek for days, she disliked it, but he liked it. It reminded him of his failure to his friend and himself. It was a reminder that he had broken promises and hurt her.
His soon-to-be ex-roommate shortly thereafter informed him she was moving back in with her father. Before, they had decided she would remain at that apartment, whilst he and his girlfriend sought a new place together. Within merely a couple of days of the news, he promptly had the bills taken out of his name, all except for the apartment itself, as that took more time. Within the course of a day, he had moved in completely with his girlfriend at her apartment. It wasn't completely ideal, but living together on a smaller scale first, would serve them better in the future.
It was still strange, living with her. Having moved in. He still felt like a visitor though he now shared the space. He almost constantly worried about overstepping his bounds. He worried about bills, about finding a new job, about severing ties with his old place. He didn't like to think about the future or really even his present. He was keeping himself distracted, too much so, more than was healthy and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Thinking and existing in the present was painful. Even laying beside her, suicidal thoughts would creep up on him. He considered one of her knives, not that he wanted to use someone else's knife for his purpose. But the thought was mildly tempting.
He noticed it last week, the meds were losing their effectiveness again. He wondered if it was a dosage thing or if it simply wasn't right. It had been working rather well, the only real negative being it made him tired shortly after he took it. He had fewer depressive episodes while taking it, but it seemed to be losing it's effectiveness.
He could tell when something was off with her, but she would rarely talk to him. She knew he was always there. It was frustrating though. But then, hadn't he promised her to talk to her? And had he done that? No, he hadn't. So, it was only fair. He told her none of what went through his head lately. Not his suicidal musings, his crushing anxiety, crippling depression, or his seeming growing dependence upon her. The dependence angered and scared him. He had never felt this way about someone, and knew it was dangerous.
The same time he desires a life with her, he desires death as then he wouldn't have to think or do, or any of that.
He was not the same person he was around six years ago. Not in the slightest. It was an upsetting fact. She wanted to help him regain all he had lost, but he had no idea how or where to begin.
Gazing into the distance, the red head sighed.
Some things just are...
