Track 29: Side A

The Darkness Always Creeps Back In

 

Lincoln

The bed jostles as Jace gets up to leave for work. The morning light is gray and dreary, weighing heavily on me when I try to open my eyes. It’s been a week since Jace told me he forgave me, and things have been going perfectly. So why do I feel so weighed down this morning?

“I’ll see you around four. Bye, baby.” Jace bends over and brushes a kiss to my cheek. I try to smile, but I’m too tired. My limbs feel like they’re made of lead. I listen to Jace moving through the apartment, making coffee, putting his shoes on, and then the front door opens and closes, and I’m left alone.

A sob wracks my body at the realization that the darkness managed to creep back in. Even with Jace’s light trying to chase it away, it still slipped in. I hold the pillow close to my face, breathing in the scent of Jace. I pull the blankets over my head and do the same. I try to hold on to the way he felt in my arms last night when his body was shivering with pleasure. I hold onto that image as hard as I can as the darkness washes over me, dragging me under like a tidal wave.

 

 

Jace

I’m surprised to find my apartment quiet and dark when I get home from work. In the past week since Lincoln has been here, he always greets me at the door, usually telling me what he has planned for dinner.

My gut twists as I drop my messenger bag and stride through the apartment, holding my breath and praying that he hasn’t done it again. What if he hurt himself this morning right after I left? It could be too late already. My breath comes out in ragged pants as I sprint first to the bathroom, which I find empty, and then to the bedroom.

I let out a small sigh of relief when I see Linc lying in bed, the blankets pulled up to his ears, seemingly asleep.

I kneel down on the floor beside the bed and brush his hair off his forehead.

“Linc,” I whisper, kissing his forehead and then the tip of his nose.

“Hmm?” he grunts, barely opening his eyes and then letting them fall shut again.

“Are you feeling sick, baby?” I ask, using the back of my hand to check his temperature.

“Mmm,” is his unhelpful response.

“Do you want me to make you some soup?” I offer, doing a quick glance around the room to make sure I don’t see any empty bottles or bloody razors. Everything seems to be in order, and the knot in my chest eases a little more.

“Not hungry,” he mumbles.

“Okay, does your stomach hurt? Maybe you have food poisoning?”

He shakes his head just a fraction. “Tired.”

“You’re tired? Okay, you don’t have a fever or anything. Does anything hurt?”

He shakes his head again, and I do a mental rundown of what could cause rapid onset, extreme fatigue without a fever. Nothing comes to mind that seems likely. Then I remember the night a few weeks ago when he showed up in the middle of the night, and I thought he was on drugs.

“I’m going to make some soup, maybe you’ll be hungry once you smell it. And I’ll let you rest a little longer. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

He nods his head, his eyes remaining closed this time.

I quietly slip out of the bedroom and close the door behind me before pulling out my phone and calling Wyatt.

“Hey, Jace. How’s life shacking up with a rock star?” Wyatt greets.

“I think something’s wrong,” I tell him quietly, not wanting Lincoln to overhear. I make my way to the kitchen and turn on the sink to cover the conversation.

“What do you mean? Something wrong with you?” Wyatt asks with concern.

“No, with Linc. I thought maybe he was sick when I got home, but he doesn’t have a fever and it came on so fast,” I explain, realizing I’m sounding paranoid but unable to shake the feeling that something is very wrong.

“What exactly is going on with him?”

“He says he’s tired. I don’t think he got out of bed today. I might have just written it off as a little bug or something, but there was this night in Wisconsin when he showed up in the middle of the night, and he was acting weird. I thought he was on drugs, but he insisted he wasn’t. It’s obvious he has depression, but I’m wondering if it’s something more than that?”

“Hmm, yeah I think it would be a good idea for him to meet with someone,” Wyatt agrees.

“Could you come over and just check on him really quick?” I plead.

“Yeah, and I’ll write down a referral he can contact first thing tomorrow. You know I can’t see him as a patient; it would be a conflict of interest.”

“That’s fine, just please come make sure he’s okay?”

“Of course, I’ll be over in twenty. Just keep an eye on him in the meantime?”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Thanks, I owe you one.”

I hang up the phone and grab a can of tomato soup from the cupboard to microwave.

He’s asleep when I go back into the bedroom, so I set the soup on the nightstand and crawl into bed with him.

I spoon my body around him and kiss the back of his neck, and I end up holding him until I hear a knock at the front door.

I greet Wyatt with a hug and lead him back to the bedroom where Linc’s eyes are finally open, but they’re glazed over, and he still isn’t moving.

“Lincoln, I’m Wyatt. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Wyatt greets, crouching down near Lincoln like I had. “You’ve got your man pretty worried here. You want to tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Okay, anything else?” Wyatt prompts.

“Like I’m a fucking loser who destroys everything he touches. I feel like Jace and everyone else would be better off if I was dead. But I’m too damn tired to even kill myself.”

The knot in my stomach is back, making me want to vomit.

“I’m going to level with you, Lincoln. Your brain is being an asshole right now, and I need you to tell those thoughts to fuck off,” Wyatt suggests with a smirk. Lincoln manages a tired laugh. “Seriously though, can we get you out of the bed and try eating a little bit? And then, I’m going to give you the number of someone to call first thing tomorrow who’s going to help you. How does that sound?”

“No one can help me,” Lincoln answers with a voice so broken it makes me want to cry.

“No one can help you unless you want help,” Wyatt corrects. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you have a pretty good reason to work on getting better.” Wyatt nods in my direction, and Lincoln’s gaze follows the motion.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Lincoln whispers to me.

“Exactly, you don’t want to lose him again. You’re going to give my friend a call and do what he says so you can get better, right?”

Lincoln nods and then slowly sits up, like his body is too heavy to move properly.

“The soup is cold; let me make more.” I grab the soup and hurry to the kitchen. While I make fresh soup, I hear Wyatt continuing to talk to Lincoln in soothing tones as he coaxes him to the living room. Lincoln’s words echo around in my mind about being too tired to kill himself. If he’d felt just a little bit better, I might have come home to my worst nightmare? I shudder at the thought, my hands shaking as I take the fresh bowl of soup out of the microwave.

“I’m glad you called me. You’re right; he needs help,” Wyatt says quietly as he enters the kitchen.

“Is he going to be okay? Do you think he’s going to kill himself?”

“I think he’s at risk. You might want to consider checking him in for observation at the hospital.”

“No, I can keep an eye on him. And he’ll go to your friend tomorrow. He’ll be okay,” I insist.

“If this is what I think it is, there’s a long road ahead…for both of you.”

“I love him, Wyatt. I’ll do anything to help him.” I don’t realize what I said until a second too late. But I know it’s true as soon as the words are out. I never stopped loving Linc. And no amount of depression or anything else is going to change that.

 

 

After Linc ate some soup and crawled back into bed, I took my laptop into the bedroom and settled into the overstuffed chair in the corner to keep an eye on Linc and get some work done. Around nine in the evening, Linc’s phone rings from the nightstand. I consider ignoring it and letting Linc call whoever back another day, but then I figure it’s probably one of his bandmates, and they might worry. I notice Archer’s name on the screen, so I hit the button to accept the call and step out of the bedroom.

“Hello?”

“Hello?” the deep voice says. “Is Lincoln around?”

“Um…” I glance back at the bedroom door, trying to decide how much to tell him. Surely Linc’s dark moods aren’t a surprise to his band manager, right? “He’s here, but he’s not really…in a position to talk.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the phone before a muffled fuck.

“Let me guess, he’s refusing to get out of bed?”

“More or less,” I confirm.

“Okay, I don’t know how much Linc would want me to say about this, but I’m more worried about his safety than his pride right now. Make sure he doesn’t have access to anything sharp. It would be good if he couldn’t get any booze either.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with all of that,” I assure him. “I took his razors away weeks ago. Didn’t stop the incident in my bathroom when we got to Seattle, but I’m keeping a better eye on him now.”

Archer breathes out a sigh of relief. “Okay, great.”

“How long has he been like this? I mean, he was moody when we were kids and teenagers—definitely sensitive—but this…”

“Pretty much as long as I’ve known him,” Archer answers. “He has his good days and bad days. Sometimes he can even go months without one of these dark episodes, but they tend to come on without warning. I’ve tried to help him, but he won’t—”

“I’ll make sure he does. I already talked to him about seeing a therapist, I just didn’t know how urgent it was. I’m going to get him to someone tomorrow.”

“Thank god.”

“Was there anything else you needed? Or did you want to call back to talk to Linc in a day or two?”

“I wanted to see if he could come to New York, so we could talk at the end of the month. I wanted to talk to him before we have a full band meeting, see what page he’s on with everything.”

“I’ll pass that along. I’m sure he’ll make it for that. Book him a flight and email him the details, and I’ll give him a heads up about it.”

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,” I assure Archer. “Thanks though.”

“Any time. Lincoln’s like a kid brother to me; I’m glad he finally has someone to make sure he gets better.”

“I won’t let him slip away.”

“Good, good.” Archer clears his throat and lets out a long breath. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”