“Aaron, sweetheart, come here.” Haley reaches out to him as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt and drops it on the floor. He stands facing her, in a tee shirt and boxers, looking absolutely wrecked. His eyes are red. His face is pale. He’s on the verge of falling apart. “Sit.” She pats the bed next to her.
He walks over as if in a daze, dropping next to her and looking down at his feet. She wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, tugging at his sleeve until he lies down with his head in her lap. She tangles her hands in his hair and works her way through the last of the gel in his hair. He sighs, eyes slipping closed.
“Breathe,” she murmurs. “Relax. You’re okay. I’m okay. Jack’s okay.” She brings her hands down to his neck, pressing her thumbs into the knots in his muscles. He sighs again, a bit of a hum in it this time, and turns towards her stomach, wrapping his arms around her. “There you go. Hey, baby.”
“Hey,” he breathes, the word almost lost in her shirt. She moves her hands lower, sliding a hand under the hem of his shirt and rubbing at his back. He’s warm and her hands are cold and he gasps quietly. “Tired.”
“I know. You okay?” She shifts them up the bed a bit, tapping at him until he moves with her, and pulls the covers over his legs.
He hesitates, and she almost pushes further, but then says, “Yes. Just tired. Sore.”
“Okay. Here, scootch over a bit. I’ll come down there with you.” Aaron huffs a laugh and rolls away, letting her slide down next to him under the covers. She reaches out and pulls him close again.
Aaron presses his forehead to hers, humming quietly. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For coming home late. For worrying you.” He closes his eyes and she leans forward and pecks him on the lips.
“Don’t be. None of that.” He opens his eyes a crack, looking up into hers. Tears pool and spill over onto his cheeks. She kisses his cheek. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
Aaron nods, ducking down and tucking his face into the crook of her neck. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she promises, setting her chin on top of his head and rubbing his back. He works so hard, tries so hard, and there’s nothing she can do to make it better. There’s nothing she can do to quiet the storm raging in his head, to protect him from the awful things encroaching from all sides. “Have you taken your meds lately?”
Silence.
“Aaron? How long?”
“...Three days.” She lets out a breath. That’s not too bad.
When Aaron first went on fluoxetine a while back, the doctor told him it was likely the best solution to his current condition. It was well-known for its success in treating complex cases like Aaron’s, ones where the trauma and the anxiety and the depression and the obsessive-compulsive thoughts all bled together and mingled. The doctor also told him that missing a few days would be normal, that it was to be expected.
Fuck that.
Haley’s not arguing against the fact that no one is perfect, but when Aaron, regimented, routine-loving, never-forgetful Aaron, doesn’t take his meds, it’s because it’s getting bad again. One dose turns into two turns into ten and then Haley’s holding him on the bathroom floor while he shakes and cries and tries not to let his brain kill him. She closes her eyes and holds him closer.
“Okay. That’s okay. We’ll take it in the morning, okay?” Aaron nods against her. “I’m so proud of you, do you know that?”
“I know,” he mumbles. He throws a leg over her hips and squeezes her gently. “Love you.”
“So you’ve said,” she laughs. “I, as always, love you, too.” She laughs again when he nuzzles her chest, tangling a hand in the front of her shirt. “Comfortable?”
“Very.” It’s warm like this, pressed together under the covers, and it’s making her tired. “Fallin’ asleep,” he supplies.
“Me, too. ‘Night.”
“‘Night.”