“What happened?”
He scoffed softly and pulled my hand to his chest, cradling it there like a child with a teddy bear. “Her assistant answered,” he said. “The one who—the one who shipped me off to rehab the first time.”
I stayed quiet as he talked about seeing his brother’s post. About talking to Marc. About being dismissed, again, without a second thought. How it all compounded until loneliness tippedinto something unbearable. How rock bottom felt too sharp to sit with, and numbness seemed like mercy.
After talking with Riff, I knew better than to blame myself. I knew this wasn’t something I’d caused by stepping away. Iggy had been spiralling long before today. If it hadn’t happened now, it would’ve happened later. Tomorrow. Next week. He’d been burning through matches, and eventually one had caught.
Still, guilt crept in anyway.
The quiet, insidious kind that whispered, “What if.” What if I’d stayed. What if I wasn’t also an addict. What if I were normal. Maybe I could’ve held him through it. Maybe I could’ve delayed the fall.
Those thoughts would take longer to shake.
Because just like Iggy, I wasn’t perfect either.
In the end, I was only human.
“I think I’ve always been a bit messed up,” Iggy whispered. “I didn’t feel loved at home, so I went looking for it in all the wrong places. Meaningless hookups, false friends, drugs.” He brushed damp hair out of his face, fingers shaking. “It’s like eating something rotten. It fills you up, sure. But it’s empty. It’s unhealthy. It makes me sick to my stomach.”
He turned his head, and I found myself staring into glassy green eyes.
“But it’s better than being alone.”
I cupped his cheek and leaned in, our lips hovering just a breath apart.
“You don’t have to be alone anymore, Iggy Pop.”
His breath caught sharply, the sound hitching in his throat as his hands tightened around my arm.
“I can’t always be there for you,” I said softly, meaning the moments I’d had to walk away and hoping he understood why. “But I promise I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll never stop trying. And I will never let you feel like you have no one.”
He closed the distance then, pressing his lips to mine. It was only a brief kiss, but it was warm. Steady. More intimate than any of the others we’d shared, because it wasn’t about desire or desperation.
It was a promise.
Not the kind that demanded perfection or sobriety or strength.
But the kind that made room for failure. For support. For help.
This was the pact we should’ve made from the beginning. Not to save each other, but to make sure we never had to face the hard parts alone.
The bathroom door creaked open, and Riff peeked inside. Iggy stiffened instantly, fingers tightening around my wrist in panic, but Riff only smiled. Soft and unassuming. Exactly what Iggy needed.
“Everything okay?” he asked quietly, eyes moving between us.
I opened my mouth, but Iggy spoke first.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling. “I—I’m really sorry.”
Riff stepped closer and crouched beside the shower, reaching out for Iggy’s free hand. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”
Iggy’s smile wobbled, fragile and unsure. His gaze flicked between the two of us before settling on where his hand rested in Riff’s.
“That’s the thing,” he said softly. “I don’t think I am.”
He turned to look at me, and I could see the moment it clicked. The fear giving way to resolve.
“I think—” He swallowed hard, drawing in a steadying breath. “I think I need help.”
