Chapter 6

San Francisco, CA - 2022

The pit in Damian's stomach had been growing for days, turning into something he couldn't ignore. Halona's radio silence was getting to him, and her missed therapy appointment set off all kinds of alarms in his head. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his car idling outside her house.

"Sod it," he muttered, killing the engine.

Damian walked up to the quiet house, feeling the chill in the air. He knocked and called out, "Halona? You home?" but got nothing back except his own echo.

The door swung open when he tried it, and he nearly tripped over a wine bottle lying in the hallway. It made a soft clinking sound as it rolled away. Something about the air inside hit him wrong.

"Christ," Damian breathed as he entered the kitchen. The bin overflowed with takeout containers, their contents congealing into unidentifiable masses. Plastic forks littered every surface, outnumbered only by the array of bottles – wine, vodka, and oddly, several Gatorades.

He picked up a neon blue bottle, eyebrows raised. "Well, at least you're staying hydrated," he said to the empty room, tossing it into the recycling with a hollow clang.

"Halona?" The stairs creaked as he climbed. He called out again, softer now. A faint glow spilled from her bedroom door, left slightly ajar.

The smell hit him first as he pushed the door open – alcohol and sweat and something indefinably rotting. The TV flickered, casting eerie shadows across the disaster zone of the room. And there, in the midst of it all, lay Halona.

She was sprawled face-down on the bed, one arm dangling limply over the edge. Her tank top had ridden up, one lone sock clung stubbornly to her foot. Damian's breath caught until he saw the slight rise and fall of her back.

Damian cleared a spot on the bed and sat down next to her. "Halona," he said quietly, his accent making her name sound softer somehow.

She just groaned into the pillow. When she finally turned over, her face was all puffy and streaked with makeup. The look in her eyes hit Damian hard.

"Oh, love," he said under his breath.

Halona's face crumpled and she buried it in the pillow, sobbing. Damian paused, then put a hand on her shoulder.

"Halona, darling, you need to pull yourself together." His voice was kind but firm, cutting through her misery.

She lifted her head a bit, her messy hair sticking to her wet cheeks. "I think I'm losing it," she whispered, her voice shaky. "It felt so real."

Damian reached out and squeezed her hand gently. The warmth of his skin was a stark contrast to how empty she felt inside. "You've been through hell," he said sympathetically. "But drowning yourself in booze isn't the answer. You need - "

"Go away," Halona mumbled into the pillow, barely understandable through her self-pity. "Just...leave me alone."

Damian's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice even. "Not a chance, Halona. We're doing this my way - starting with getting you in the bath. You smell like old takeout."

Before she could argue, Damian had scooped her up. The sudden movement made her head spin, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"I can walk..." she mumbled weakly.

Damian ignored her and carried her to the bathroom. He turned on the tub with one hand, filling it with a few inches of cool water. Then he set Halona on the edge.

She shivered as the cold porcelain touched her skin. "Never thought you'd be taking my clothes off," Halona slurred, trying for a joke.

"Don't flatter yourself," Damian said with a wry smile. "You're definitely...not my type."

"Rude," she mumbled, closing her eyes against the bright bathroom light.

"Call it tough love," Damian replied. He gathered up her dirty clothes. "I'm going to...burn these. You soak for a bit. I'll get someone to clean this mess. And you're going to therapy this week. No excuses."

For a moment, there was just the sound of water dripping. Halona opened her eyes a crack, looking at him gratefully.

"Damian?" She finally croaked. "Thank you."

Damian's face softened. "Of course, luv," he said gently, giving her forehead a light kiss. "When life hands you lemons and all that, eh?"

A tiny smile tugged at Halona's lips as her eyes closed again. "Get tequila and salt?"