No Good at Goodbyes

Chapter 13: Eighteen Months

Author's note: I've had major anxiety about this chapter since I woke up this morning, so I had to let it out into the universe :) be kind to one another today <3

Chapter 13: Eighteen Months

The Ativan was a godsend.

It worked so much faster. He felt so much better.

He scrolled through Twitter, laughing at some obnoxiously hateful comment.

Then he laughed at the fact that he had laughed at the comment.

And now we was just laughing.

He wasn't sure what this dosage was. He didn't care.

One pill was working just fine each day. Two pills each day, spread apart of course, was even more fantastic.

And Mark looked so damn happy that the life had returned to his boyfriend's eyes, Scott didn't even hold any guilt about how that had come to be.

He had had a few close calls with his therapist, but he thanked God for the fact that their sessions were via telehealth. It was much easier to lie over video chat. Scott had learned this very quickly.

Scott was doing better, and regardless of how he accomplished this, he was happy about this fact. He would just wean himself off of the pills as the group continued to get more comfortable. He wouldn't need them forever.

In two months, the group had released three videos. They had been received well. Originally, Scott was hyper-focused on the negative comments that seemed to be directed only at him. But once he began taking his two pills daily, he was actually able to notice the negative comments about the others as well.

And somehow, that made him feel better.

Yeah, he knew that was a twisted thought, at first glance. But at least he knew that he wasn't always the problem, and that gave him a sense of calm.

One day, however, it all seemed to come crashing down.

"Where the actual fuck..." Scott muttered one morning, panic overtaking him.

He had been keeping them in his car. So where the hell were they?

Could he have dropped them? As he was getting out of the car, could the bag of pills have fallen from his lap?

He swallowed the lump in his throat painfully, trying to calm himself.

He needed them so badly.

What if Mark had found them?

Scott didn't realize when he had started bashing his head against the steering wheel.

Mark was going to kill him, or he was going to die from the overwhelming dread in his heart first.

He opened the car door, moving the driver's seat back and forth, praying that they were somehow lodged beneath it, about to be spit out by the traitor of a car.

"Looking for something?" Mark asked lightly from the front door.

"What? Oh, no. Just cleaning out my car a bit before I go. Have a good day, babe."

He knew the answer sounded rushed, but he hoped that Mark didn't hear the frantic tone in his voice.

Mark blew him a kiss, and turned and walked back inside.

If he knew about the pills, he was certainly acting cruelly.

"Come the fuck on..." Scott whined, returning to his task.