Struggle, struggle, struggle. The evening continued in a struggle. A struggle for air. A struggle for peace. A struggle for clarity. And a simple momentary feeling has evolved into a night of struggles, which is probably not restricted only to me. 

Devon doesn't have it particularly easy. He probably has it the hardest being just a baby, a spectator to the joys and sorrows of those around him. Perhaps that's where our need for action comes from - as babies we're powerless, and being powerless is an unbearable, nagging feeling. Just like that having no control becomes our greatest fear, and once we grow up, action and control, the desire for some kind of power - emotional, physical, domestic - becomes a part of our nature, an inner drive. 

It's the only thing I was able to think about after we finally came back home. My thoughts either focused on how Devon must feel about it all, or when he called for Annabelle in his own way. 

He merely caught a glimpse of her and was ready to sell his soul to jump into her arms. 

I don't blame him. I'd do the same thing. 

Ambe...?

It's not her face, her body language, or her desire to escape back home that lingers in my mind - it's Devon's reaction to her, and it hurts more than whatever I used to torture myself till now. 

At home, Devon could not get comfortable no matter what I did. His happy plushie, a purple lion, was of no use. A small dose of baby formula did not do anything either. In his crib, in the safety of his comfort fuzzy blanket, he only became even more agitated than he already was. I tried to sit down with him and read him a few paragraphs of Curious George, but he was not interested in it. When he could barely keep his eyes open, whenever I tried to leave him, he woke up and would not let me go. Only when he was nestled in my arms like a baby bird, or whenever I was at least in close proximity, he was not in distress anymore. 

I was left with no choice, but to take him to my room. Supposedly that's not something that qualifies as great parenting, but I want my kid to be happy and well-rested, not alone in a dark room crying about missing me. 

Once he was laid down in my own bed, he relaxed a little bit. However, whenever I shifted in bed or got up to go to the toilet, his eyes burst open, then he slowly closed them again. 

At least, he got to get at least some sleep, unlike me. Technically... Technically, I did, I suppose. I don't know. Did I sleep or what happened?

I was haunted by guilt. Guilt concerning Devon's needy, panicky behaviour, and guilt concerning Annabelle. Everything revolves around Annabelle... 

Now that I think back on earlier this evening, when I just felt this intense need to cut a few arteries and went to see her, she did look abnormally tired. The one and only time I've seen her that tired was after she took the Plan B pill and ended up crying about Mason long into the night. 

That was so messy... So fucking messy. And this now is just fucking awful. 

If there's any possibility that I indeed am the reason behind the bags under her eyes smudged up with light makeup, the runny nose, the sleepless nights, the tell-tale paleness... It all only proves how much she trusted me. You don't lay your heart out to someone for whom you think they're not worth it. Had she never had hope for me to make the right move, she never would've said so breathlessly and at the same time happily that she in fact likes me too. She probably wouldn't have even got as mad at me as she did. 

Now that realisation... That hurts inexplicably much. It fills my head with all sort of nonsense, and my heart is bombarded with so many feelings I don't even know what's happening anymore. 

As I've said, the night that followed was... Well, I don't know what to call it. Sleepless doesn't fit the bill. I slept. At least, I think I did? 

I kept jerking awake throughout the night, and it never felt like I ever fell asleep. Something was bothering me constantly. My mind won't leave me alone, my heart's been in pain for a while now so that's nothing new, and I felt a strange sort of presence in the room, like a nightmare lingering in the darkest corner, waiting for me to fall asleep in order to properly manifests itself. 

I'd always check on Devon first. Whenever I woke up, I was in panic that I lost him, that he wasn't there. When I saw him resting beside me on the bed, under the thick blanket, I would plop down and breathe as if I've just saved him from a pack of hungry wolves and I could finally afford to feel relieved. 

When I say I don't know if I slept, I mean that I never felt like I was falling asleep. Every now and then, which felt like every half an hour, but was only a minute or even less, I checked the time. It was 1.34 am at one point. When I next jerked away and looked at the time, it was 3.12 am. And the next time, it was 5.26 am. 

In the morning, I had no idea if slept, or just blocked the memory of a long night. 

At the same time, time was passing slowly, yet whenever I jerked awake and look at the clock, there was at least a one hour lapse. 

I feel abnormally well-rested, though whenever I want to focus on just reading an e-mail or considering paying a visit to one of the other departments, my heads gets heavy, my eyelids begin to close, and all I want is to have a couch in my office where I could lie down and take a nap. 

I'm convinced the only way I can survive all this love stress is by taking naps. Nights are... awfully lonely. Empty. Invigorating with fear. There's something unsettling about it, and my place doesn't feel like home anymore, but like a hotel room - impersonal, distant, friendly and warm at a first glance, and desolate, uncaring the next. 

If Annabelle were with me, I know I wouldn't feel this way. And Devon would be fine. She'd be fine. I'd be fine. We'd all be fine. More than fine. 

Physically, I feel alright. But the night's impact on my emotional state is indescribable. English doesn't have enough adjectives that could describe my state. 

So, you can imagine that when Justine walks in, holding a perfect cup of coffee in my one and only cup, and places it on my desk before me, I am not fine. 

"What's wrong with you?" 

She looks up while bending down to put the coffee on the desk. "Doing my job?"

"No, no, no!" I start throwing a tantrum. Fucking, honestly, can at least one person be normal around me! I get up from my chair and take a few T-Rex steps around the office. "You're supposed to fight me! And what are you doing? Bringing me coffee!" 

"You've always asked for coffee!"

"Yes, yes, I did! And you didn't bring it to me! You'd t-tell me to fuck off or... or... locked me in my office!"

"I'm considering the latter, yeah." 

"Yes, thank you!" 

I breathe heavily for a moment or two, running my hands across my face, while Justine just stands there. I'm... I'm barely holding it together right now. 

"All I'm asking is... You give me none of your pity. So, take that coffee and throw it at my face or spill it on the ground just to piss me off."

She blinks, visibly confused. "Why would I feel pity for you?"

I laugh at loud in a manner that clearly shows I'm just a tinge away from going completely mental. "Oh, I-I-I don't know! You just started bringing me coffee at a very convenient time, when I've been feeling like absolute shit 'cause I fuck everything up! Don't tell me that's not pity!"

"It's called being nice to someone who's going through something. You're clearly not familiar with it." She rolls her eyes, but then she focuses them back on me. I can see she's thinking about something, and for a moment she appears to be indecisive. "You have a meeting in ten minutes, but I can call them and tell them you're a waste of their money since all you do is drink coffee all day and feel sorry about yourself." 

I feel like crying at that moment. I want to drop down on my knees as I hail Justine, "Thank you..." 

Justine leaves my office, and during the day, I receive a couple of her calls that would normally upset me, but make me feel most at home in the current situation. I've stopped thanking her every time she called me a selfish ass because she ended up screaming at me for being pathetic, and I thanked her for that as well. 

At some point, Austin drops by, again weirded out by the weird relationship between Justine and me. 

The first thing he does is he tilts his head to the side and just observes me from afar. When I ask him, not very politely, the hell is he staring at, he simply shrugs and goes on about wind turbines. 

I don't fucking care about wind turbines.

"Hold up," I stop him, finding this an urgent matter that needs to be settled. I'm starting to believe I want to start whatever conflict I can just to have a reason to scream at others and be mad about something or someone else than myself for a change. "Why the shrug?"

Austin looks at me in the same way Justine did before. He has no clue what I'm talking about. 

"When I asked you why you looked at me strangely, you just shrugged. What was that about?"

He looks at everything back at me. My immediate thought is how Annabelle did that whenever she was blushing. But when she was pissed, she went straight for the head. "I don't know, you look tired. Not a surprise considering everything."

"Considering everything?" 

"With, uh, Annabelle? I take it you haven't tried it with others, huh? Must be tough putting the kid's priorities first."

I'm reconsidering our friendship. 

"It's actually not, because it's what any sensible person would do. And as a matter of fact, I've tried with others, and it didn't work out well. I didn't feel like doing anything with another woman." 

I stare out the window, taking a turn at being embarrassed, non-confrontational and evasive. 

Austin, this time, does not hesitate like before. "What? That doesn't sound like you..." Then he reaches his big and long-expected eureka moment. "Ooooh... You do like her quite a lot, huh? Damn, you must be in agony not being used to it." 

Alright, what the hell, dude!

"For the record!" I slap my eyes back on him. "Yes, it hurts. And could you not be all... gooey with me? Your or anyone else's pity will not make me feel better. It's annoying rather than anything else."

"Yeah, I get that, but am I just pretend everything is normal? It's not." 

Oh, what a bright buttercup!

"I think I notice that more than you or anyone else in the office, don't you think? And yes, you can pretend everything is normal. It's not that fucking hard!"

Austin falls silent, being the second person today I've attacked over nothing. No, it's not over nothing, it's a very sensible thing I confronted him about. I don't want anyone's pity, I'm not a starving puppy in the streets that freezes in the winter. I'm just a dude going through some shit. I don't need everyone to be on their best behaviour, I need them on their usual behaviour, fucking normal shit! 

"Man, I know she did a number on you. I can't be the same old buddy with you, you need to be... I don't know if that's the right word for it, but you need to be handled with gloves."

My expression remains as solid as a brick. "You're right, that's not the right word for it."

"You're vulnerable. You can show that to all of us, it's not something to be ashamed of." 

"How is asking you to be normal around me the same as being ashamed of not being fucking fine?"

"You're yelling, you're not fine." 

"I know I'm not fine! I know I'm not fine! And not thanks to you, or thanks to anyone else who treats me with pity! I don't need your pity, I don't want your pity! I want shit to go back to normal, which it can't go if you're all treating me like a sick kid!"  

I again breathe heavily, leaning on the desk with my both arms outstretched. 

Austin doesn't respond. At some point, he only gets up and gives me his famous last words that make me want to strangle him while looking him dead in the eye and observe his soul and his final breath leave his body. "People are just being nice to you. Maybe try seeing it that way sometimes." 

I hope that cold bitch leaves you shattered. 

I fall back into my chair once I'm alone in the office and bury my face in my hands. 

I don't know what's going on with me. I don't know what I want. I want to get in a fucking brawl and knock someone's jaw out, but I can barely get out of the bed in the morning. I want what I used to have. I want what I could've had. Compassion, not fucking pity. What good is pity gonna do for me? Is pity for the hungry going to feed empty stomachs? Is pity for the suicidal give them the will to live? No. It's just something you can talk about with others to feel like you're compassionate. 

I just want this to go back to normal. That is all I want. 

Justine briefly peeks in, I see her rough silhouette through the gaps between my fingers. "I know you're an idiot, but I want an extended one week at the company's weekend house you promised me." 

I break entirely and cry out aloud. "Thank you!"

***

The rest of the day was pretty normal. At least according to current standards. I screamed at a couple of other people, one of them being Austin again, and another one being Flora for being forcefully nice to me. Justine was there every time to save the day. I've never been happier to see her. Maybe I really will go all-in on that house abroad promise, she deserves it, even if it just because she understands what I want. 

I saw arriving home as a blessing until I remembered Devon is at Molly's place since the kids have the same babysitter. 

As per usual, she wanted to fill me in on how has Devon's day been, and usually, it's all sunshine and rainbows with an occasional tantrum. However, today's been hard on him. She couldn't quite explain herself, but according to her assumptions, he was calling for his darling mummy. When I asked her more about it, she said he was cuddling close to her and repeatedly crying out a single word: Ambe. 

I've been marinating myself in constant reminders of how my life's gone from a wonderful to a completely fucked up one. 

I'll go with the cliche - I can't eat and I can't sleep, my thoughts are only focused on her. And on anyone that tries to show me something that Austin calls 'kindness'. Devon's beat up about it too, probably feeling like he's been given away to adoption once again, children simply must feel that. 

What a keeper I am... 

I drive away the person I feel close to, with whom I was intimate on an emotional and physical level, I destroy the kid in the process, and now I am deliberately toxic towards anyone who just wants me to be okay.

I don't know if I find Annabelle admirable or stupid. Wasn't she happy with Mason? Mason, who was a world away from me. I can understand she found it comfortable to be around someone like me for a while, it helped her refrain from thinking about him. I can't understand why she thought I'd be a good substitute for him. 

That's the beauty of her... She simply found reasoning. She found reasoning to believe I was worthy of her time and of the possibility of being hurt, and she took that risk. She found me worthy of that risk. 

I am the risk. Mason never was and never will be. He's the guy that takes you to the prom and drives you home before your curfew. I'm the one who might sneak into your room while your parents are asleep.  

I can't begin to imagine the whirlpool of her feelings. There was Mason on one hand, and I on the other. One being the regular, cute boy next door, his numerous imperfections making him even more attractive. And the other one is a guy you never know which turn he'll take, what personality he'll inhabit. 

He's home. I'm the streets. 

He's the hearth. I'm the snowstorm. 

He's the golden retriever. I'm the wolf. 

He's decency. I'm cruelty.

He's the husband. And I'm... selfish. 

And yet... She found something that gave her hope, something that let her open up little by little. And what she did showed me the way to do the same, to open up little by little. Until I ended up stomping all over her, and she ended up doing the same thing to me. I guess it's what we do, we do the same things to each other. If that means cause pain, we'll cause pain. If it means care, we'll be caring. If it means a shower of kisses, we'll both deliver. But when one causes pain, the other one will hit back harder, and the other one will go even harder, and the other one even harder than the one before, until we end up where we've ended up now. 

Yeah, what a keeper...

In the apartment, once I manage to intrigue Devon about giant colourful blocks of different shapes - a yellow star, an orange circle, a green triangle (Illuminati toys hitting the stores), and a purple square - I found the will to do chores. 

I understand the women who clean under stress. I don't think I've ever scrubbed my plates twice before because I felt like it or because they'd need it. And I scrubbed them, I didn't just load them into the dishwasher. And after a good wipe, looking through the windows seems like I upgraded them to a 4k quality resolution. 

Lastly, I browse through a pile of laundry that's been sitting in my bathroom for a while now, I just couldn't find the will to do it. I set the timer, I sort the laundry by colour - white laundry and colourful laundry - and begin to load it in the washing machine. The machine is half full when I get to one of my jeans, and I browse through the pockets to make sure there is no change there or any credit cards I'm too lazy to put in my wallet. I feel something in the right pocket and pull it out. 

Faust tickets.

It's not a stabbing pain in my stomach or heart. It's like grief what I feel. Something I lost, something that was there out of my arm's reach, yet I decided to let it fall in the water. 

It's a piece of paper, I tell myself. Nothing more than a piece of paper with ink on it and fancy letters writing out the name of an imaginary character going by the name of Faust.

My heart says something else. My heart doesn't see a piece of paper. It sees not just a lovely evening with both Annabelle and I dressed up for the occasion. It sees a dinner some other day. It sees an older Devon going to school waving back at Annabelle and me. It sees a bunch of desserts around Christmastime, Annabelle baking like crazy, and me snooping around trying to steal the still hot cookies. My heart sees hope, a promise never spoken that could now never be carried out. 

Indeed... What a keeper. 

Too bad how things turned out, truly too bad. Too bad I asked of her a sacrifice for the sake of my comfort zone. Too bad she hit me where the wound is still fresh. I wonder whose fault is it that things... that things didn't go as they could've. 

'But you know damn well that you're still just a stuttering little boy desperate for your mummy's attention!'

***

Daniel is confused. Confused about me randomly popping by, confused by my sudden request to keep Devon safe, and confused by the lack of excuse that I give him. 

"We'd gladly keep an eye on him, you know that but what's going on?" He asks as he intercepts Devon who is not fond of the idea spending the evening at his uncle and aunt's place. 

"I remember you telling me how you don't have time for yourself because you're preoccupied with kids. Well, I'm not doing the same mistake. I'm going out." 

Daniel's eye light up at the news. "Really? You picking up Annabelle perchance?" 

Ow... 

"Mhm," I utter through my gritted teeth and a forced smile. "So, you see, I kinda need to go." 

I turn to go towards my car as fast as possible and scream and breathe as loud as I want in there, but Daniel doesn't let me go easy. "Hold up, you can't just leave like that. When is his bedtime? Has he eaten? What does he like to do? You gotta fill me in on it, Nate." 

"He's fed, he's cranky, and he doesn't want to be alone. That good enough?" 

"What is going on here?" Patty yells from the inside of the house. She comes to the front and the moment she lays her eyes on her, hers grow all wide. "Nathan?" 

Daniel, just as confused as before, looks at Patty and lifts Devon closer to her. "He dropped this little guy off for the night. That's all." 

Patty gives Daniel a quick glance, but then she fixes it on me. For Christ's sake, I don't have time to be constantly planning out my vendetta against her. 

"Exactly, thanks for that. I'll come by sometime tomorrow morning." 

"You could come a bit later and stay for lunch too if you'd like," says Patty and both Daniel and I shoot her a stare of surprise. 

"Maybe," I utter and drag myself to the car. 

As I slowly pull away down the empty street, I look at the rearview mirror and see Daniel taking Devon inside, but Patty still staring at the car before I'm out of her eye's reach. 

I'm abnormally nervous. It's that one time that I can swallow my pride, and I'm shaking all over. I'm so nervous I get sick and I burst out a heave when I'm merely a street away from where I need to be. 

I see familiar surroundings. Instead of giving me some kind of comfort of the known terrain, it's sickening, like having a tummy ache after too many cheap ass sweets. It's not where I can be physically present. Every ounce in my body is telling me to turn away, to go back to the safety of my comfort zone, maybe even beg Patty to let me in and give me a glass of fresh milk, and afterwards, beg Danny for three glasses of whatever alcohol he has in the house. 

I know why I'm doing this. I know why I'm turning down this street. I know why I'm looking for the familiar driveway. I know why I park in front of my childhood home. And I know why I step out of the car and ring the doorbell. 

To see my mother. 

I wait at the front door, but after a while, no one opens it. It's 10 pm, maybe she's already gone to bed. 

I don't know is it relief, or is it the same lingering shadow from my bedroom that follows me down the two steps that are between the driveway and the front door. 

Before I can figure it out, the door opens, "Yes?"

It's my mother's voice and I turn around, choking on my breath and on everything I want to say. 

"Nathan?!" She exclaims, visibly exasperated and she closes the morning coat she's wearing over her nightgown. 

"Hi, mum..." I whisper and just stand there like a lost child. 

"What are you doing here?" She asks with the same exasperation as before, probably still finding it hard to believe I'm actually standing here before her. 

"Mum... Mum, I need to ask you something."

She looks down the street and back in the house. "Can't it wait? It's in the middle of the night." 

"Please, it's just one thing. I really need you right now." 

"Alright, if you're gonna be quick." 

I look at my hands, and for some reason, it's like I'm seeing blood on them, it's the same kind of feeling, as I choke out: "W-why did you treat us that way?" 

Mum's expression hardens, but she remains completely quiet. 

"Why weren't you worried ab-about us? D-Didn't you see t-that we were struggling? Why didn't you d-do anything about that?"

She sighs and runs her hands up and down her arms, even though it's not even cold. "Where is this coming from?" 

I hold back my tears. It's... She's gonna understand this, she just needs a bit of time. She always says she loves me. 

"Mum, I fucked up... I fucked up so bad..." I nearly start hyperventilating, but I stop myself after two huge sighs. "I don't... I don't... I don't know how to fix it. I'm scared of it. I'm so scared of it because I've never known it. The intimacy, the care. It scares me so much, mum." 

My mum's shoulders sag a little and she steps out of the house in her slippers, stretching her arms out for me. 

I fall right into them, like a man letting himself fall off a bridge to the waves of death. I hold onto my mum. No tears are present, surprisingly, just... Just relief that I finally have a mum. She's there, she's here, she's doing this for me. 

"Help me understand..." I whisper, sniffling as I suppress the tears trying to gush out. 

"It's too complicated to be discussing this like that, okay?"

"What?" Blackness falls over my eyes at the sound of her words. 

She retreats back towards the house and I make the first step towards it, thinking she's going to invite me in where we could have a proper conversation, but she stops at the front door and doesn't say or does anything that would give me the welcome.

I start screaming, the tightening feeling around my ribs squashing all of my insides, making everything feel overcrowded in my chest. "What? I'm... I'm your son. I'm - I'm in pain. You have to help me! I-I can't post-post-po-postpone this." 

"It's really late and I think you're drunk. We'd get nowhere with you like this." 

I'm... I'm not drunk... 

"Mum, just let me in, please. Please, do that for me. Do that one thing for me. I need you, please, I need you so much. I can't go anywhere else. Please, mum!" I beg of her, I'm ready to drop on my knees and hug her legs like when I used to when I was a little boy, barely five years old. 

My mum looks like she's trying to say something, but she is cut off by another voice, calling for her. "Jo? What's taking so long?"

A man's voice...

And it hits me. And it all falls into place. My mum looking not a bit of ashamed of the man. If she's ashamed of anything right now, it's me. Her pathetic, weak son. And she finally got what she wanted - me crawling back to her. 

"Nathan, sweetie," she starts, but doesn't finish. I don't think there even was anything to finish it was nothing more than a formality. 

It's at that moment that I allow a single tear make its debut and slide down my cheek. 

She calls for my name once or twice as I silently turn around and head towards my car. 

It was one moment that I needed her. And I foolishly believe she'd help me out. All the promises she's been making them throughout the years, all suddenly forgotten. I can only be a priority to her if she's not bedding anyone, and she always is. 

I drive away, but not far away. I'm not capable of driving anywhere. I'm not capable of driving. And it's not anger that I feel. It's not sadness. It's only that I'm finally broken. My mother just broke the last piece of my holding itself back together. 

A/N: Who's cutting onions in here? </3

Join the Community Discord: https://discord.gg/W4CeMpYdkR (clickable link on my profile)

If you liked this chapter, don't forget to colour the vote star and leave a comment ^o^

~Blackie