Past the Tipping Point

\ Chapter 6 /

"Stop." Colby whispered to himself as he lay on his couch, and his mind started to wander. "Don't fucking do it."

The second Colby made it to his apartment his thoughts were quick to consume him. Colby didn't want to focus on anything outside of the walls of his home, but he couldn't help it.

He tried to occupy his mind in other ways, watching television, folding laundry, anything he could come up with. However, his mind continued to return to the problem at hand.

How do I get out of this?

His biggest problem wasn't helping out Pamela—or even Mercedes, although she was trying her hardest to make everything more difficult—it was Rebecca herself. Not the substance abuse. Not the prospect of trying to help. Rebecca.

I can't face her again.

Their history tugged at him from the back of his mind, begging to be rewatched. But he knew if he spared it a moment of attention, it'd all come flooding back.

I can't.

As he tried to organize some piles of paper, a photo slipped out. "Of fucking course."

He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly which one it was before he picked it up and studied it. It was grainy, blurry almost, but still one of his favourite pictures.

Rebecca was doing some yoga at his place. Something that used to be a favourite activity of hers. She had one hand by her spread-out legs on the mat, with the other supposed to be reaching up to the ceiling, but the second she saw him taking a picture, she made sure to be flipping him off for it.

He didn't know the name of the pose. He never really made an effort to learn them, but it was just another thing he wished he had done. Colby let out a deep breath, unable to stop his mind from transporting to that exact moment.

"Oh fuck off." Rebecca laughed as she struggled to keep her balance and cover her face with her hand that was currently flipping him off.

"What?" He smiled, watching her stand up straight and wipe some sweat off her forehead. "I can't admire you?"

"You just like seeing me in tight clothes." She rolled her eyes as she drank some water, catching her breath.

"That and the whole sweaty look." He shrugged, putting the camera down and moving towards her. "Although I could certainly find a way to make you sweat, that would do the both of us some good."

"Oh yeah?" She laughed as he grabbed her waist with his hands.

"Yeah." He placed a kiss on her neck, then jaw, then lips, in between his words. "Good conditioning. Great stamina training."

"Interesting." She allowed as he lifted her off the floor and held her in his arms. "Although you could just do some yoga with me."

"My idea seems like more fun." He smiled as he laid her out on her mat, hovering over top of her, relishing the sound of her laughter. As he placed his lips against her skin again, Colby lowered his voice. "But if it makes you feel better, you can call it yoga."

"Colby, we can't." Even with her protests, her hands were wrapped around his shoulders. "The gang will be waiting at the bar. They'll know something is up. We set a strict deadline."

"What? It's not like they don't know we're together." His lips did their best to sway her. "Plus, there's nothing wrong with being fashionably late."

"I have to shower!" She squealed as she felt his hands venture eagerly.

"No problem." He grinned, immediately picking her up with ease. "I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine."

It was one of their better memories and was a rare moment of complete peace between them without involving any problem factors like alcohol or substances. Of course, back then, they typically saved those things for the later hours of the day.

He went to his fridge, hoping his headache would be soothed with some alcohol, grabbing a beer and swiftly opening it. He let the tip linger against his lips, the smell of booze filling his nostrils. He contemplated the argument that alcohol could help take some problems away, realizing he was reverting back to an old mindset. "Hypocrite."

Colby took a small sip and let it sit in his mouth. Trying to understand and at least acknowledge the true power it could hold over some. How one sip could hook the wrong person. How too much changed even the best of people.

When he had gone away, it was to disappear and stay far away from things like that. He didn't want to surround himself in dangerous situations. His only regret was leaving the people who once trusted their lives with him. Now, everything had changed, and he was an outcast.

Consciously Colby always knew if they ever crossed paths with him again, things would be different. Sure, he expected them to be closed off and upset, but just seeing the life they've lived, the dynamics, and the changes within the group were making him want to disappear again. He couldn't quite figure out where he fit in. His puzzle piece was a different shape entirely. 

A naïve part of him had consistently hoped that if the time ever came, the group would just accept him again with open arms. However, his conscience was right and quick to remind him that if he wanted that outcome, he should've handled his departure differently.

Colby only hoped he could see it through, and was equipped with what he needed to help sort things out. He was in a constant state of not wanting to even try, yet wanting to solve everything. Colby just couldn't figure out which outweighed the other. He simply knew he needed to sort it all out quickly because lives were at stake, and everything he once knew could change even further in the blink of an eye.