The medication helped. Connor knew it did.

But he still hated it.

Sitting in the waiting room of the mental health care ward, he tried to pay attention to what Tate was saying, but the walls were closing in around him. The sensation would pass, and at least he didn’t want to lash out blindly anymore. His mind felt like his own again. He was in control.

And everyone knew how fucked up he was.

He buried his face in his hands, doing his best to keep his breaths steady. None of this would have happened if he’d gotten his last injection, but the doses had been lowered a few times and he’d figured he could manage without it. Exercise had always helped. He should probably eat healthier food, but he was in good shape, so what was the harm?

Being forgetful sometimes wasn’t a huge deal. And he didn’t see the ‘impulse control’ thing his therapists had said was a problem. The only reasons he’d ever taken the meds was so he didn’t hurt anyone.

He’d come too close today.

“Hey, look who’s here.” Tate patted his knee and stood.

Connor followed his gaze, groaning when he saw Annette and Balthazar. He wasn’t ready to face them yet. How could he justify flipping out at them?

Skull came to his side as he rose, squeezing his shoulder. “If you don’t want to see them, I’ll speak to them for you, Connor. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

He’d said as much already, before even telling Balthazar where he was, but Connor had wanted to see them. He still did. What scared him was how they’d react. How everyone would react.

There was no avoiding it now though. He couldn’t pretend to be normal.

“I’m okay.” He shot Skull a brief smile, stepping forward as Balthazar approached. Connor frowned when Annette held back, but when Balthazar’s strong hands settled on his arms, his uncertainty faded away. He inhaled roughly as he met Balthazar’s concerned gaze. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Balthazar’s lips curved slightly. “How are you?”

His lips parted as he prepared to say what he always did. He was fine. This wasn’t a big deal. Could they not talk about it?

Instead, he shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m…kinda freaked out. I want to go back to being the dumb jock everyone thought I was. Not…this.”

“You were never a dumb jock.” Balthazar rubbed the back of Connor’s neck, a gesture he’d come to love, both comforting and grounding. He smiled when Connor leaned closer to him. “But whatever this is, Connor, you can tell me as much or as little as you want to. When you’re ready.”

“I am. I just don’t know where to start.” Connor ran his tongue over his teeth. “Is Annette pissed at me?”

“Not at all.” Balthazar glanced over as Skull went to Annette, speaking to her quietly before pulling her in for a hug. “She has something to tell you, but I think she’s worried it will make things worse.”

Connor’s jaw tensed. He rested his head on Balthazar’s shoulder. “I fucking hate this. Now everyone’s gonna be all careful, like I can’t handle shit. I’m back on my meds. I’ll be fine.”

“Connor…” Balthazar took a deep breath. “I can’t promise nothing will change. But I’m here for you. I will help you communicate your needs. To the band and anyone else.”

“I need them to treat me exactly like they did before.”

“Okay. We’ll work on making that happen.” Balthazar continued rubbing his neck. “Shall we have her join us?”

Nodding without lifting his head, Connor felt Balthazar raise one hand, likely gesturing Annette and Skull over. Tate had gone quiet, so Connor turned his head just enough to see where he’d gone.

He was sitting down again, reading something on his phone and absently fidgeting with the strap to his leather eyepatch, which had a black Hello Kitty skull and crossbones design. Even though Tate was afraid he might permanently lose his vision, he seemed to enjoy his new accessory.

Having Tate here had been weird at first, but his silent support had been exactly what Connor needed. He listened without judgment when Connor explained why he’d never told anyone in the band about his condition. After the doctor talked to Connor for a bit, and Connor needed a distraction, Tate found a bunch of funny YouTube videos for them to watch together.

He’d always been fun to hang out with, but Connor had never really considered them close. He didn’t let himself get close to anyone. But the kid had always been there. Being his friend without asking for anything.

Well, except sex, but he hadn’t done that in awhile. Connor had a feeling Tate had his own issues. Maybe now that Connor had opened up, the drummer would do the same. He moved away from Balthazar, smiling a little when Tate looked up at him.

Tate smiled back hesitantly, then glanced over at Annette. His eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe you pulled this shit.”

She stopped a few feet away from them. Pressed her eyes shut. “I fucked up.”

“You think?”

Connor frowned. “Wait. What’s going on?”

Reaching out, Balthazar took Annette’s hand, pulling her gently to his side. “All I ask is that you listen before you make any judgments.”

Eying their clasped hands, Connor had to bite back a smile. He probably shouldn’t make too much out of Balthazar looking out for her, it was kinda his thing. But they were good together when they weren’t at each other’s throats.

Skull, Balthazar, Annette, and Connor joined Tate on the seats in the almost empty waiting room of the mental health care ward, and Connor remained silent as Annette explained what had happened with Joanna. Then how the band had reacted. He ground his teeth when she got to the part when Jesse told her to leave. Shook his head when she started apologizing for the third time.

“How is any of this your fault? I thought Joanna was cool. If she’d called me, I might have told her stuff.” He looked over at Tate, who was picking at his cast, looking guilty as fuck. “And you’re in no position to judge. The first rumor about Danica being pregnant was your fault.”

Tate shook his head. “I was teasing her on Twitter!”

“You sent her pictures of what her babies with Jesse and Alder would look like.”

“They’d be fucking adorable!”

“The baby won’t look like both Jesse and Alder. That’s not a thing.”

“It so is! The sperm of both men goes in the same egg.” Tate wiggled his fingers, poking them against the side of his cast. “I read it somewhere. She just has to lay there after fucking both of them and—”

“And this isn’t the right place for this conversation.” Balthazar gave Tate a hard look when he opened his mouth like he wanted to keep going. He nodded pointedly at several nurses who were standing around the nurse’s station, pretending not to be listening in. “Not that anywhere is appropriate.”

“Oh fine.” Tate braced his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on his good hand. “But it wasn’t my fault.”

“And this wasn’t Annette’s fault.” Connor took Annette’s hand in his, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m sorry the guys were such dicks about it. Want me to kick their asses?”

She shook her head, letting out a small sob. “No. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Come here.” The tightness in his chest eased as she curled up in his lap. He held her, drying her tears with his thumb, then pressed a soft kiss to her hair. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, but I’m so happy you don’t hate me.” She whispered thanks as Skull handed her a tissue. “Enough about me, though. How are you?”

He tipped his head back, tired of the question, but knowing everyone asked because they cared. He stared at the ceiling and shrugged. “I feel stupid. I knew better than to just stop taking my medication, but…” He shook his head. “I’m never going to get better. I guess I’d hoped it would go away, but my head is just…fucked up.”

Tate and Skull already knew what was wrong with him, so neither said anything. Annette looked up at him, as though willing to hear whatever he wanted to tell her. He did want to tell her. And Balthazar. But he always felt weird just spitting it out.

Balthazar crouched down in front of him, placing one hand on his knee and squeezing lightly. “I don’t know what you’re going through. But I want to help.”

“You being here helps.” Connor put his hand over Balthazar’s. Hugged Annette a little tighter. “I have FASD.”

“Fetal alcohol spectrum disorder.” Tate injected, glancing up at Skull as though to make sure he’d gotten it right. Skull nodded.

Connor let out a tight laugh. “Yeah. My mother wasn’t an alcoholic. She had a few drinks now and then. No big deal. She couldn’t have known…I mean, shit happens.” He looked down at his hand as Balthazar laced their fingers together. The man managed to give him strength with the simplest actions. He wasn’t sure how he did it. Connor tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth. “She had more kids after she left me and my dad. They’re perfect.”

Annette’s eyes went wide. “She left you?”

“I was a mess as a kid. Always getting in trouble, getting kicked out of school, fighting, throwing fits. My dad quit his job for a while to homeschool me. He spent all his time bringing me to different doctors. She wanted me sent to a mental facility.” He shook his head and laughed. “Fuck, I still remember my parents screaming at each other. They’d been trying to have another baby. I was six years old. He kept yelling that she shouldn’t try to replace me.” He rolled his shoulders. “But she did.”

“How could a mother…” Annette snapped her lips shut and placed her hand on his chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s not much to say. She has a different life.” He didn’t want pity. Didn’t want to talk shit about his mother. No one understood how bad he’d been back then, how hard he’d made her life. “She used to come visit, but it was…awkward. We grew further and further apart and I wasn’t exactly pleasant to her. I told her I hated seeing her. That she wasn’t really my mother anymore. So…she stopped coming.”

“But you’re close to your father?” Balthazar smiled at Connor’s nod. “He sounds like an amazing man.”

“He really is.” Connor thought back on his conversation with his dad when he’d snapped at the café. Here he was, a grown man, across the ocean, calling his dad like the man could fix everything.

But Dad knew exactly what to do. He’d gotten Connor calm. Told him to head back to the mainland. Stayed on the phone with him the whole time after taking a minute to contact Jesse to meet him.

“Most people think I’m overreacting when shit happens, like it did today. But I know when I’ve slipped over the edge—if that makes sense?” He relaxed back into the chair when both Annette and Balthazar nodded. “Before I joined the band he spent years working with me so I could be more independent, but there were a few times he had to take over completely. I’d spend all my money on stupid shit and he’d take my bank cards, helping me shop and paying my bills. I hated needing him so much, so I started seeing a new therapist. We tried out different meds and I was doing good. Focused on my music, got out of debt. Dad was nervous when I joined the band. The schedule’s kinda loose and I do better with structure, but we worked out a system that helped. Exercising at certain times—or when I start feeling agitated.”

“You told everyone you were hyperactive.” Tate chewed on the edge of his nail. “I remember being jealous because you got prescriptions for weed. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. I lied because it was easier.” Connor had half believed his own lies at one point, as though the specialist could have been wrong after all those years. “The medical marijuana was an experimental treatment and it seems to help. That’s one of the reasons I stopped taking my other medication. Which was stupid.”

“Not stupid, but you should talk to your doctor before making decisions like that.” Balthazar rubbed his knee, then stood. “Are they having you wait to see how your system reacts now that your back on Haldol?”

“I guess?” Connor looked over at Skull, who’d spoken to the doctor more than he had. He’d been a wreck when he’d come in and hadn’t paid much attention. “Did he say how long I need to stay?”

“He’s writing you up a new prescription.” Skull walked over to the coffee machine a few feet away and pulled out a cup, setting it under the dispenser. “The doctor said you can leave once you have it.”

Annette adjusted herself on his lap, laughing when he pulled her closer. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. But I should get up, your leg is going to fall asleep.”

“My leg’s fine. If you’re okay with it, I just want to keep holding you.” He buried his face in her hair when she nodded. “Fuck, I should ask if you’re sure you want to deal with all my shit. You don’t have to. You hardly know me.”

“I know enough to say this changes nothing for me. And I’ve got the whole tour to get to know you better.” She went still. “Can you continue the tour?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He wasn’t sure the rest of the guys would agree, but he’d find a way to convince them. “I get tired a lot until my system is used to the drugs. Feel a bit nauseous, but I’ve been through this before and no one noticed.”

“Because we’re horrible friends.” Tate scowled, glaring at his cast. His skin had lost all color and he seemed a little shaky. “You’ve always been there for me. You notice when something’s off and you’ll check on me, without being all overprotective like everyone else.”

“And I eat all your cookies.” Connor laughed when Tate stared at him like that couldn’t possibly matter now. “You’re a great friend, Tate. You don’t make me feel like a freak.”

“You’re not a freak. But you’ve been dealing with this shit on your own and that sucks.” Tate bounced his knee the way he did when he was agitated. “I know everyone is saying it, but seriously, if you ever need anything, I’m here too.”

Which worked both ways. Connor hugged Annette again, then shifted to the edge of the seat, helping her to her feet before standing himself. He stepped in front of Tate and held out his hand. “Come on, I need to move and you need sugar.”

“We’re taking care of you, Connor. I’m fine.”

Connor frowned, ready to argue, but he spotted the doctor who’d given him his shot coming down the hall.

“You finish up here, I’ll go with Tate.” Annette rose up on her toes to kiss Connor’s cheek, then turned to Tate. “Can you show me where the good vending machines are? I could use a snack too.”

Tate pressed his lips together uncertainly, but nodded, leaving with her. She had him laughing before they were out of sight and Connor breathed a sigh of relief. He hated seeing Tate upset. The kid had been through enough.

The doctor gave him a few sample packets of his medication, along with a prescription for more. In thickly accented English he lectured Connor about stopping his medication—not for the first time—and told him to return if he had any negative side effects.

Thanking the doctor, Connor started off in the direction Tate and Annette had gone, Balthazar by his side, Skull trailing behind.

He cleared his throat. “Have you ever talked to Tate about…well, anything?”

Balthazar shook his head. “No. I’d like to, but he’ll have to tell me when he’s ready.”

“You tried to get me to talk.”

Lips curving slightly, Balthazar nodded. “I did, but if I recall, you didn’t appreciate the attempt. And you had every right to tell me to fuck off. I may be a therapist, but that doesn’t mean I have any right to dig into your personal matters without your consent.”

That made sense. Every time someone asked Connor if he’d ‘gotten help’, he’d been defensive. Like they’d noticed he was different. Like they thought there was something wrong with him, even though he’d done his best to fit in.

Maybe all he, or anyone, could do for Tate was be a good friend. Unlike Connor, Tate had no problem letting people close. Sure, sometimes he let them too close, but that was a whole different issue.

“Focusing on Tate is easier, isn’t it?” Balthazar put his hand on the small of Connor’s back. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to do so, but be careful not to project your own feelings on him. What worked for you might not work for him.”

“Nothing worked for me except hitting rock bottom.” Connor stepped aside as two little kids raced down the hall, giving their tired looking mother a sympathetic smile as she followed. He stopped to watch her when her son fell and cried out. She knelt and picked him up, saying something to him in Italian that Connor couldn’t understand, but her tone was soothing. He looked away, a knot forming in his chest. “I just want things to be good again.”

“They will be. This will pass. You’re still the same man we all know and love.” Balthazar’s lips twitched. “And I mean that in the most professional way.”

“Of course you do.” Connor snickered, even though his pulse skipped a little at the slip. He didn’t want the man to feel weird, so he went with what he did best. Lightened things up singing the little song from Miss Congeniality. “’You love me, you want to—’”

“Behave yourself.” Balthazar latched on to the back of his neck, his tone firm. “Remember what I said. I won’t hesitate to punish you if you keep pushing, boy.”

Gaping at Balthazar, Connor shivered at the idea of actually being punished. How fucked up was it that he got hard every time Balthazar said that?

“You’d still… I mean, even knowing I’m broken?”

“You’re not broken.”

“Fine.” Connor rolled his eyes. Did they have to get technical? “I’ve got a mental health problem and it could be challenging.”

“Better.” Balthazar slowed as they reached the cafeteria. Inside, Tate and Annette were sitting at a table, dipping big cookies into fully opened cartons of milk. He watched them for a moment, then glanced over at Connor. “I will be careful with you, Connor. But there’s no reason we can’t explore a power exchange.”

“I knew it! You want to tie me up and spank me.” Connor’s cheeks heated when Skull cleared his throat. “Sorry, but your brother is kinky.”

Skull’s lips curved into a dry smile. “I am aware.”

“Let’s change the subject.” Balthazar sounded all level, but his cheeks were red. “It’s too late to go on that tour, but we could still see some of the sights?”

With everything that had happened, Connor had almost forgotten where they were. After being in so many, all hospitals looked the same. But thankfully he had a doctor that had been able to make sure he didn’t spend the night in observation. Night hadn’t fallen yet. He hadn’t ruined the day for everyone.

Or himself.

“I’m starving, but yeah, I’d love to go back.” Connor hugged Balthazar, not caring who saw. Without the man by his side, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to tough out the tour, as much as he wanted to. And while the guys in the band weren’t complete assholes, would they have waited for him to figure shit out when they could easily find a replacement?

Tate couldn’t play, but the idea of him not returning to fill his role was unthinkable. Every member of Winter’s Wrath, including Connor, would delay the tour, the next album release, whatever, for him. Quinton was doing all right covering for him, but even fans were bitching at the change. Tate was unique.

Connor wasn’t. Sure, he was good, but there were a hundred guys, and girls, out there who could take his place in a minute.

Balthazar made him feel like he wasn’t replaceable. Showed him life could go on. And he needed to know that.

Because some days, he couldn’t convince himself. He needed someone to tell him.

Someone who wouldn’t let him forget.