Even if it took a couple of weeks, and a pink-haired twink, to teach me what a different kind of life could look like.
“Bodhi,” he said again, his voice cracking. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. That you went through italone.”
I shook my head, hands curling into fists. “I—it’s my fault, man. I shouldn’t have—” I hiccupped on a sob. “I should’ve realised. Should’ve helped him sooner.”
“No,” he snapped, sharp but not unkind. “No, Bodhi. This isn’t your fault.” He held my gaze. “Iggy is a grown man. He makes his own decisions. What you’re both going through is shitty, yeah, but this?” He squeezed my shoulder hard enough to make me wince. “This is not on you.”
My breath came apart, ragged and uneven, tears spilling faster as my shoulders slumped. I’d been wound tight for days, watching Iggy spiral, convincing myself that space was the right thing. That if I waited long enough, if I stayed calm enough, I could somehow save him.
Riff shook his head, like he could see the thoughts forming. “You didn’t force the pills down his throat,” he said quietly. “The only person who can ask for help is Iggy. And he has to be ready to take it.”
The truth of it hit hard.
Iggy had to want it.
He had to save himself.
All I could do was remind him he wasn’t alone when he did.
Riff pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tight. One hand pressed firm at my back, the other cradled my head as he anchored me there. I cried into hisneck, ugly, heaving sobs that felt like they’d been building for days.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, fingers threading through my hair. “You’re okay. And Iggy will be okay.”
I nodded against him, clinging to the idea because I needed it to be true.
“Do you know where he is right now?” Riff asked gently.
“Yeah,” I rasped, pulling back to wipe my eyes. “He’s in his room.”
He exhaled slowly. “Do you want to go check on him?”
“Yes,” I said immediately.
I needed to see him, needed to know he was breathing. Needed to know I hadn’t left him alone with something irreversible.
“Alright,” Riff said, sliding off the stool. “But I’m coming with you.”
I nodded, the weight on my chest easing just a fraction.
Because for the first time in months, I realised I didn’t have to carry this alone.
Maybe that was the first step I’d been avoiding.
My heart pounded as I stood in front of Iggy’s door. I’d been holding the keycard just shy of the scanner for at least five minutes, staring at the gold numbers screwed into the wood. I couldn’t hear anything on the other side, but that didn’t mean much. The doors were thick. Too thick to reassure me.
Still, something stopped me from opening it and barging in. Fear, maybe. Fear of what I might find. Or the quieter worry that I’d only make things worse—though I wasn’t sure how much worse they could realistically get.
“You good, Bodes?” Riff asked softly, his warm hand settling between my shoulder blades. “I can go in first, if you want.”
I shook my head. “Nah. I need to do this myself.” I exhaled slowly. “Just... wait in the hall. I’ll shout if I need you.”
“Promise?”
I glanced back at him and forced a small smile. “Yeah, man. I promise.”
Finally, I swiped the borrowed card and pushed the door open.
The bedside lamp was still on. The sheets were rumpled, empty.
