Inside

Well I've Got That Going For Me

***Content warning, discussion of suicide***

I didn't imagine my knuckles would hurt so much from punching a foam filled bag, but it's hell. Dipping my fingers into a soothing ice bag after class on Wednesday night I sigh in relief at the dissipation of the pain. My talk with Don went about as poorly as a confrontation could have in my opinion. He's clearly not intimidated by me. Strange. And even worse he seems emboldened to not only stalk and harass Stevie, but to try and do the same to me. Wincing, I remove one hand from the ice bath to change the channel to the USC game. Just as I'm about to put my hand back the doorbell rings, I groan standing as my other sore muscles protest being moved.

Lessons learned from my last unexpected visitor, I've installed security cameras outside of my door similar to what I have at the office. Before I reach for the knob I check the feed on my phone smiling when I see who it is. Stevie. She's carrying two bags of groceries dressed in her casual clothes. We didn't plan anything for the night but none the less she's here, I hear this is a normal boyfriend girlfriend thing. Wincing I dry off my wet hands unlatching the locks for her to enter. Lucky for me I've showered and changed into my around the house clothes so I'm not sweaty and gross smelling.

"Hey" I greet, ushering her inside she smiles at me in return and I take her grocery bags from her, "Thanks, those weigh a ton and your elevator is out" Again? The rent here is ridiculous, obviously none of it goes to elevator upkeep "Sorry, that happens every month or so." Bags deposited in the kitchen I feel hands on my waist, so I turn around "Do I get a kiss?" holing her close I bend down our lips pecking gently then again more firmly "Two, cuz I forgot"

"I thought you might like a homecooked meal, how was class?" Stevie's reaction when she heard about my mixed martial arts class was mostly positive. She was a bit curious as to why, but she didn't push it any farther "Good. Um...I think I'm getting the hang of it" Dodge, block, parry, roll, hit, and pray the other guy does all that stuff slower and less refined than you "Well wash up Daniel-san lets get dinner started"

This is blissful domestic compared to how I've spent many lonely weeknights, Stevie's a wonderful cook and I savor each morsel we create together. It's weird, but I feel like us collaborating on projects was something we were born to do. Dubious though I may be about the concept of destiny, it certainly feels like we were meant to be in this moment at this time, creating something together.

We hit the couch right after dinner Stevie messes around on her tablet while I watch the game. Every now and then I wince from the painful swelling of my hands; I do my best not to be obvious about it but it's hard. To keep my mind off the pain I peek at what Stevie's doing, she looks like she's writing another poem. Only a few words are visible and they don't make sense out of context..."Are you reading over my shoulder?" jerking I nearly pass out from a heart attack. Stevie squints at me her head readjusting in my lap "Um...not...yeah" I'm a terrible liar.

"You don't have to peek, just ask" I'm not good at that either. Stevie sits up pushing her hair behind her ear, I love it when she does that. instead of moving she leans back against me bringing her tablet up so we can both read it "I wrote this partially when my uncle passed away, and then when...well when I was in the hospital" I want to ask which time. When Don sent her there? When she lost another one of her children? Betty Ford? If that's even true.

I want to know but I don't know how to ask if that makes sense. It seems almost like an invasion of her privacy to have had a conversation with Henley without telling her. Truthfully, I wouldn't know what to tell her; I have a feeling she'd be pretty ticked if she knew. But I don't like keeping this from her, the words on the tablet scroll in front of me and they're haunting "I hate hospitals, they're cold and sterile no one cares about you. If you get better it's a plus for their public relations, if they can't help you then it's because you're not ready to accept help" scoffing she hands me the tablet so I can read the whole thing.