ALONE [manxman] ✓

epilouge:: when you need good luck, babe!

YOU KNOW I HATE TO SAY IT
I TOLD YOU SO

Epilogue: when you need good luck, babe!

JULIAN

It's weird how easy it is.

To be around him.

Of course it's felt like years, until seconds started to feel like days instead.

A little better with time, is all.

It's easier to walk around the house now since I'm on such good terms with him. And it feels like friendship.

It actually does. Like, I can trip over my words and not feel nervous. I feel his eyes but there's no weird tension. I watch him across the room, it's hard but if I want to talk to him, I do.

It's been okay.

He's been okay.

At least he looks okay.

It's been three months. I think he's been sober. He's been talking more and there are no tears.

Ben's closer to him these days than I am, their rooms are close, they both spend time on the sun-deck. Ben spends his days working out, turning half the room into a makeshift gym and Paul paints.

I don't want to avoid the space but it feels like we're too close sometimes. Sometimes we're on top of each other and the house feels much too small for how many feelings I have. We can't lay together and spend all day together, it feels too intimate.

This is the first time I've been able to hit the weight rack, Paul's been out all day, I don't ask why... it's not my responsibility.

I'm racking the bench, sliding under, bench pressing a lighter weight than I've touched in years and it feels heavy.

I feel tired.

But I'm pressing through something around 95lbs... and then 120.

It's getting harder now, I feel my arms shaking. I rack the weight back for a second, sit up when I feel lightheaded and I swallow back a sickness I feel.

When it subsides, I'm back at it, Ben's shuffling into the room again, hopping down the short ledge. His feet nearly flop in slides and socks. And he's drinking from a water bottle, sitting one by my head.

"Need a spot?"

I nod. My eyes are trained on the bar.

"Five more?" He offers, before I can respond he's putting five on each side. "You got it."

"Gimme 8." Ben says. "C'mon."

He aids in sliding the weight off the rack, holds it only slightly before letting me lower to my chest. And push.

I blow out a heavy breath.

"One. Come on, pump. Two."

The encouragement is enough to help me get into a rhythm. It's hard but not impossible and the I shake half the way up the 8th. Ben grabs for the weight, lifting it off me when I start to fail.

"That's your third set?"

I nod, it's weak. I sit up and lean over like my heart's heavy.

I cough.

"Doin' a fourth?"

I want to say yes but I shake my head. Train until failure works more for my morale.

I flex a bit, staring over at my bicep.

Ben grabs for it.

"Solid."