Cody storms into the bedroom, throwing the door open so it bounces off the wall. Roland is pretty sure there’s a dent there now from the knob by this point. Roland looks up at him and pushes his hair away from his face. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are damp. Roland reaches a hand up and feels his eyelashes. They’re clumped together from his tears.
“Yeah, they’re wet. You’ve just been in here crying all morning instead of talking to me. You’re a fucking master at avoiding the issue. That’s all you’ve ever done. Avoid the issue. Ignore the problem. You can’t just throw your ass at every problem, Roland. It won’t fix anything for the long term.”
Cody stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips. His accusations make Roland angry and he pushes off the wall and glares at Cody.
“That’s not what I do.”
“It is!” Cody yells. “It is,” he repeats, softer. “You need help, Rolly. I know you don’t want to admit that, but you do.”
“I’m not weak, Cody. I can do this without pills. I don’t need pills.”
Cody looks at him; his face is dripping with sympathy and sadness as he slides a hand around Roland’s waist, pulling their bodies together. Cody is taller than him, and he presses his lips against Roland’s forehead then sighs.
Roland reaches up and fists Cody’s shirt in his hands. He tugs and pulls, twisting the fabric between his fingers, trying to pull Cody closer and hold him there. Cody covers Roland’s hands with his and unfolds Roland’s fingers, breaking his grasp. He holds Roland’s sweaty hands in his, raises them to his mouth and presses kisses to every knuckle, then he lowers both their hands to his chest.
“You said you loved me,” Roland whimpers and he looks down at their joined hands. He squeezes Cody’s fingers with his and watches as a tear slides down his cheek and bounces off Cody’s knuckle.
“That’s not fair, Rolly,” Cody says, releasing him.
Roland fumbles forward, grabbing Cody’s shirt again and dragging him closer.
“You did, though, you said you did. We made promises, Cody.”
Cody shakes free of his fingers and runs a hand through his hair. Roland can see he’s exasperated, and hurt— and regretful. Roland latches onto the regret. He thinks that Cody won’t really leave him, not as long as he has that look in his eyes.
“We did. I did. But so did you, and you’re not keeping yours, and that’s not fair to me.” Cody takes a step back toward the bedroom door.
“I am keeping mine. I promised you I would get better, and I am better. I’m fine, Cody,” Roland pleads.
“You’re not better. You’re getting better, but you’re not there yet.”
“You’re not in my head, you don’t know what’s going on up here," Roland accuses, jabbing his fingers against his temples.
Cody reaches up and stills Roland’s hands, then drags his thumbs across his skin. Cody holds his face and forces Roland to look him in the eyes. Cody’s eyes are red, too. Roland feels a tear slide down his cheek. Cody offers him a sad smile, then wipes Roland’s tears from his cheeks.
“How long have I known you?” Cody asks him.
“Two years,” Roland says and Cody nods in agreement.
“Two years. And were you taking your pills when we met?”
Roland shakes his head, no.
“Were you happy when we met?”
Roland shakes his head, no.
“When did you start feeling less bad, Rolly?” Cody wipes more of Roland’s tears from his face.
“When you told me you loved me,” Roland says, smiling and trying to muster a laugh, but the sound that comes out is more like a strangled cry.
Cody smiles, a real smile this time. “You’re a liar.”
Roland looks down and Cody tips Roland’s chin up. “It was after you went back on your meds, wasn’t it?”
Roland closes his eyes and reluctantly nods his head.
“Then why would you stop now? You’re doing good. We are doing good. Why are you insisting on fucking this up, Roland?” Cody sounds like he’s begging. But Roland doesn’t want to be medicated, doesn’t need it. The pills have got him this far, he can do the rest on his own. He needs to do the rest on his own.
