“It’s fine. I can do it,” Ash said, laying their arm over their forehead.
Michael sighed. “Where are your meds?”
“In the kitchen above the sink,” Ash responded, voice strained.
Michael retreated from the room and returned a minute later with Ash’s medication, a water bottle, and an ice pack wrapped in a paper towel. Ash drank down their medication and water before laying on their left side, the ice pack beneath their head.
“Thank you,” Ash said. “I’m lucky to have you in my life.”
“Any time.” Michael gave Ash’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Do you need me to hang out for a bit?”
“No, I’ll be okay. Thank you, though.”
“I plugged your phone in and shut the blackout curtains. There’s a second water bottle on the nightstand and a bottle of Advil in case the meds don’t work.”
Michael and Ash had been roommates in undergrad when Ash’s migraines were more frequent. He had helped Ash deal with their pain so often that he could now rattle off exactly what they needed. Even though Michael didn’t need to help, he always did without question. Ash muttered their thanks as Michael retreated from the room and slowly closed the door behind him.
When Ash woke several hours later, the ice pack under their head was room temperature and slightly damp. The pounding in their head had subsided, but they were exhausted. Ash rolled over with a groan and grabbed their phone off the nightstand. It was nearly four in the afternoon. Ash went through their texts to see they had texted Michael at seven-thirty. They were asleep all that time?
Ash slowly rolled out of bed and shook their head from side to side, testing if their migraine had truly gone. No pain made itself known, and Ash breathed a sigh of relief. They sucked down the second water bottle Michael had left before trudging out into the kitchen for something to eat.
Ash nearly jumped out of their skin when they spotted Michael watching a football game on their couch. The announcer was barely audible, even in the silence of Ash’s apartment.
“Uh, hi,” Ash said, rubbing a hand down their face. “I thought you left.”
Michael turned around, placing his beer down on the coffee table. “No, I thought I’d stick around, just in case. How’re you feeling, bud?”
Ash’s stomach grumbled. “Hungry and tired.” Ash dragged themself to the kitchen, where they slathered half a sleeve of crackers in peanut butter, eating in silence as Michael turned back to the football game on the television.
“Does Jess mind you’ve been here all day?” Ash asked Michael as they packed up their snack.
“No, she’s out with her mom. This was my plan for the day anyway,” Michael said, gesturing to the TV. “That seemed like a bad one. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Thank you. Yeah, it was rough.”
Ash pulled out their phone and logged their migraine into their tracker. They noted the pain level (an 8), where they were when it started (out), all the possible triggers (variable sleep and alcohol), and what methods relieved the pain (dark room rest, sleep, various medications). It sucked adding a new migraine to their app, especially when they’d only had four this year. Just a few years ago, they were gettingnearly one a week, but theyfinallyfound a medication that worked well for them.
“So…” Michael started. “Can I ask about last night?”
Ash sighed as they flopped onto the couch beside Michael. “I don’t know where to start.”
“How about a reason as to why you’re not wearing your shirt.”
“What?” Ash looked down and realized, with absolute horror, they had taken Luke’s t-shirt rather than their own. Ash’s face burned with embarrassment. “Oh fuck.”
Michael let out a loud laugh. “What’s his name?”
“Luke. He has a PhD in Biology.” Ash told Michael everything from last night. They mentioned Luke’s half-sleeve and the way he traced Ash’s DNA tattoo. They spoke of the garbage plates, telling Michael theyhadto go there together next time. And then they told Michael about what happened at Luke’s house, sparing him the details.
“You are so gone,” Michael laughed. “What happened this morning?”
Ash closed their eyes. “I just left him a note. I don’t even remember what it said.”
Michael blanched. “You left him a note? Ash, you slept with this guy and wrote him a fuckingnotesaying you had to leave? You didn’t talk to him at all this morning?”
Ash shook their head. “I could barely open my eyes, let alone string a sentence together.”
“Did you at least leave your phone number?” Michael asked, rolling his eyes.
