I twist to look at them, paintbrush still in hand, and realize what they’re seeing.
“I’m redecorating,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster while dripping paint onto my already ruined T-shirt.
“You’re having a breakdown,” Noah corrects, setting down bags of takeout. “Get down from there before you break your neck.”
“I’m fine,” I protest, but the stool chooses that moment to wobble dangerously again. Strong hands steady me, Adam on one side, Lex on the other, as they help me down.
“You’re not fine,” Adam says gently. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
“And you smell like a hardware store,” Lex adds, wrinkling his nose. “When’s the last time you showered?”
“This morning,” I defend. “The paint smell is new.”
Noah surveys the bathroom disaster with the expression of someone trying very hard not to laugh. “Meatball, why is there blue paint on the ceiling?”
“Artistic vision?”
“Artistic vision, my ass. You’re having a Pierce Dellcourt breakdown and taking it out on innocent bathroom walls.” Lex crosses his arms. “This intervention is long overdue.”
They drag me to the kitchen sink and proceed to clean paint off me like I’m five years old, which honestly feels about right for my current emotional maturity level. The warm water and their gentle fussing loosen the grip on my chest a little for the first time in weeks.
“Better,” Adam declares, handing me a clean towel. “Now, food. Then we’re solving this Pierce situation once and for all.”
“There’s no Pierce situation to solve,” I say, but I let them lead me to the couch, where they’ve spread out enough Chinese food to feed a small army.
“Bullshit,” Noah says cheerfully, loading a plate with fried rice and shoving it into my hands. “You’re miserable, he’s miserable, and we’re tired of watching you both suffer.”
“Pierce isn’t miserable. He’s?—”
“Pierce,” Lex says, stealing a spring roll, “looks like someone killed his dog. Lior says he barely speaks in meetings anymore.”
“That’s not because of me. He asked me to send everyone all the reports ahead of the meetings so they know?—”
“It’s absolutely because of you,” Adam corrects. “So we’re here to fix it.”
“You can’t fix this. It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated until you make it simple,” Adam says. “I should know, after all, I used to be straight until being with my gay best friend felt easier and more natural than any relationship I’ve had before.”
Lex raises his chopsticks. “Option one: transfer to a different department at VSE.”
“There are no openings,” I reply automatically. “I checked.”
“Option two,” Lex continues, “we create an opening. I know people.”
“You can’t just make up jobs, Lex. You don’t even work there.”
“Watch me.”
“Option three,” Noah says, grinning, “we kidnap Pierce and hold him hostage until he quits his job to be with you.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Only if we get caught.”
“You’re all insane,” I say, but I’m laughing for the first time in weeks. “You can’t kidnap my ex-boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend who’s still in love with you,” Noah points out. “Lior says Pierce asks about you constantly. How you’re doing; if you’re happy; whether you’ve heard back from publishers.”
