We just laid there embracing for a while, letting the worst of our emotions ebb out.

She still wasn't too heavy, and if it wasn't for the fact that she hated me more than anything else this would almost be touching.

Trish is the first to speak:

"I'm so, so, so very sorry, Anon. I... I just... I have trouble keeping it in, still. All these years later and I'm not that much different. You must think I'm just Herbie garbage."

There's a pause as she holds her breath, waiting for anything at all that could salvage this.

It fucking hurts, but nothing feels broken except for my nose. My jaw hurts but it ain't busted and my wet shirt is sticking to my chest. Opening my mouth again feels off, my lips have been glued together with blood and tears:

"Trish. What the fuck."

She laughs tiredly at the sudden outburst, and I can see a slight smile start to appear. She lets her head rest on my chest for a few more seconds before she responds:

"You're still a weirdo."

"And you're an asshole with anger issues."

"Tell me something new."

"I actually wish that you'd be doing well after all this time and that you and Lucy had made amends."

"Surprisingly considerate from you, Skinnie."

I groan, the pain is starting to make itself known again. Something in Trish clicks and she gets off me, apologizing once more, and tries to help me off the floor.

I must look grim, still, she tries to act cool:

"Sorry, sorry, shit, I... Let's get you fixed up."

Nodding in response, we head to the bathroom where I've got a first aid kit and some spare medical supplies. We clean off my sorry self, wiping off the blood and taking off my stained shirt. Trish seems to notice how worn down my body looks, but thankfully she doesn't bring it up.

Turns out as far as injuries go I looked worse off than I was since my nose had bled all over me, mostly covered in bruises; Trish had been kind enough to only use her closed fists. After eyeing me over, she gives me her diagnosis:

"I'm going to have to set your nose, alright?"

"Set my nose? Do you really know how?"

"Don't whine, I've got younger brothers and we lived in a shitty neighborhood. Trust me.", then she smiles reassuringly.

Trust her. Trust Trish. I'd never imagined her to be the only one left I could trust.

"Alright, do it.", bracing myself.

She confidently puts her fingers on the sides of my nose causing pain to shoot out like lightning through my head, and with a cracking noise she realigns it - first try. I shout out:

"FUCK!"

Trish just keeps smiling, and with a confident voice says:

"I told you: trust me. I know my shit.", before letting her arms down and relaxing her posture a bit, "And I'm sorry."

I carefully touch my nose, feeling that it's sitting right. It's still aching, but it feels better now since it's not a chafing mess of cartilage. Trish cleans her hands in the sink, and I reach for an old faded band T-shirt hanging on the bathroom door hanger, putting it on slowly to keep my nose safe.

I try and look a bit less somber and look up at her:

"How about we start over? Anon. Anon Y. Mous. Ex-boyfriend of Lucy.", extending a hand to her.

Wiping off her hands on the towel, she looks back at me:

"Hi. I'm Trish. Lucy's ex-best friend.", taking mine and shaking it. It's smooth to the touch, and it's only now that I realize she's wearing a glossy indigo nail polish - heavily contrasting her bruised knuckles.

"Surprisingly considerate from you, Herbie.", releasing her hand.

"I try to be good to my friends."

"Is this how you treat all your friends?

"Only the retarded ones."

"Lunch?"

"Sounds good."

We head back into the kitchen, Trish notices the spattered blood on the floor and asks for something to clean it off with and I direct her to my cleaning supplies as I start to bring out the things we'd need for lunch from the fridge.

I've only begun heating the stock in a pot when Trish is already done, so she jumps in and begins preparing the salad next to me. We chat idly a bit, trying to return some normalcy to the situation, with Trish teasing me for not making a 'proper' Risotto.

I realize I'd never checked her Snootsta, might be a good time to ask her how she'd been holding up:

"So what's up with you nowadays? Got a husband, kids, a job, new friends?"

"Yeah. To some degree."

"How do you have a husband to some degree?"

"I'm divorced. No children.", her eyes staring off into the distance.

"I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Don't be, I'm past it now."

"How was he?"

"Sebastian was kind and caring. We met on a blind date that a colleague set me up with."

"Did you find happiness with him?"

"He helped me with my emotions, he was a rock that I could cling to in my storms. He held me tight at night when the memories and the pain were too much to handle."

"So what happened?"

"I choked him, I never learned to move on. He had to keep living with it and it started to hurt him; deeply. I never went to therapy, I never tried to talk it out, I just hid it.", there's a slight tremble in her voice, "Then one day he looked me straight in the eyes and told me that I could choose between leaving Fang behind or leaving him."

"Did he leave you then?"

"No, I tried to get help. It was the wake-up call that I needed.", she busies herself by chopping up some cheese, before turning on the oven to make croutons, "But I was stuck in the past. I didn't want to leave."

"What is it like, finding such love and losing it?"

Trish seems surprised by the blunt question, but doesn't seem to take it too hard, answering:

"It's painful, but you learn to live again. The other option is a lot worse, so I just buried myself in work to try and push it away."

"Why do you trust me enough to tell me all this?"

"Because you just took a beating and still told me we were friends. Because you still tried to make amends even after I doxxed you. I know it was my fault that you fell down those stairs, yet you still didn't hold it against me."

That answers the question of whether or not she remembered that part of our lives. I reassure her:

"It took time, but I don't hold it against you. I understand why you did it."

"Thank you. I regretted doing it, still do; maybe if I never pushed you to the brink we'd not have fucked everything up."

"They don't think it be like it is, but it do."

Trish smiles at my sperging and it's nice to see her lighten up a little.

Then I try to push it:

"So, you said that you got back to Lucy recently? What did you two talk about?"

"Don't worry, Skinnie. I already know. I wouldn't be here if I blamed you for that, as well.", as she's looking into my eyes she takes a few steps forward, extending her arms into a hug. Pulling the pan off the heat, I embrace her.

Being held close to someone again is nice, but being able to be open and honest might surpass even that.

I'm tired, everything has been so very exhausting for so very, very long. I can't fathom what emotions Trish is hiding behind that look, it was akin to a mixed impression of sorrow and joy. Trish picks up the thread again:

"I know you two have got your history and your regrets. I'm sorry I ruined it."

I hold her tight, and she squeezes me hard. I'd need to comfort her too:

"You didn't ruin it. Well, you didn't make it easy, but at the same time, you didn't ruin it. I did that all on my own.", I stroked her back gently, "I still don't blame you."

There was a relief that Trish already knew what had transpired, it was good to have a confidante:

"I'm glad you understand. I don't regret that I kissed Lucy, it felt like... Closure. At last."

It just sort of slipped out of me, and suddenly she leaned back and looked at me, shocked, before she got out a confused:

"You KISSED Lucy?"

I guess she didn't tell her everything. Damnit. Time to explain:

"It is complicated. We have a lot of things, a lot of baggage, and it all sort of came out a-"

"YOU kissed LUCY?"

"Ah, no, we just... Fell into each other."

The memories of that night come rushing back but there's no nostalgic longing for a life long lost, only a melancholic feeling of the long overdue end to a chapter of my life that had passed. So I try to explain myself:

"Blowing off some long built-up tension."

Trish seems to still be lost in disbelief, but takes tone:

"You two have cleared things up completely, then?"

I nod at her, and she seems to try and cool down a bit before continuing:

"Good. You two have left that wound to fester for too long.", she takes a deep breath, "Don't do the same thing with Stella."

That was out of the left field, even for Trish that was a low blow. Retaliating, I spit out:

"You don't know what happened, you don't know how it happened! Fang was different, Stella is different!"

"I know you ran away again. I understand you, Skinnie, even if you sometimes don't even understand yourself."

I'm fuming, but she was right. I ran, I ran so far away. I ran all night and day. Damnit, Seagulls, leave me alone in my despair.

Trish keeps at it, I couldn't get away:

"If you loved her, give her this. Don't leave her suffering."

"I never wanted to leave her suffering, she knew what she did!"

"But you did abandon her."

"She had to understand what she did, what it did to me!"

"It made you cower and move all the way out here, rather than face her. That's what it did."

"So what can I do now!? She hates me!"

"You make it right, Anon Y. Mous! You better make it right!", Trish once again balled her fists and raised her head to give me a piercing look as she shouted out her demand.

"Fine! Fuck you! Go to hell, Trigga!", and suddenly the emotions come rolling back.

I can't hold on, I try to grasp onto anything close enough to steady myself on. The chant doesn't work and I keep shouting at her:

"Go to hell, I never asked for you to come here and lecture me!"

The tears start rolling down my cheeks, spattering on my new shirt.

Trish steps up, moving close to me, hugging me around the waist. I hug her back, she's warm, and she's here for me. Odd times indeed. I keep shouting, but she hushes me and holds me tighter.

Turning into a blubbering mess, I hold on to the last things anchoring me to this world. The only person that was here for me, her horns slightly jabbing into my chest but not hard enough to cause pain. She nuzzles me as she pulls herself closer, still hushing me as I keep sobbing.

I needed her, and she was here. I had a debt to her I could never repay and an immense weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I'd been holding it in for all too long; as men should. But we all needed someone, no man is an island. So I tell her:

"Thabk schou", tears and a lump in my throat choking the words.

"You're welcome. Now don't go and do this again, Skinnie."

"Ibh whont, I probise.", still trying to hold myself back from losing it completely.

She doesn't let go, my tears falling on her crest with faint patters.

If she would let go, there'd be no coming back; I'm hanging over the abyss clutching a purple thread. What were we doing with our lives, we were older now but had we ever grown up?

Would we ever grow up? Trish holds me in her strong arms, I feel a wet stain spreading on my t-shirt, she'd started to cry again.

When my tears start ebbing out, I open my heart a bit more:

"Y'know, for a long time I thought that all I'd needed to be happy was Fang.", hesitating before unburdening even more on her, "But that wasn't it. I'm still not happy."

"So what is it, then?", Trish mumbles, still hiding her face in my shirt.

"I just ruin everything I touch. People like me aren't meant to be happy.", clutching her a bit tighter, "I can't do any good."

Trish suddenly lets me go and takes two quick steps back to look me in the eyes. I meet them just in time to see her flash through a million emotions before she raises her arm and bitchslaps me; it stings and snaps me back to reality. She lectures me:

"Anon, I know you're retarded, but you can't be this retarded.", her look settling on a worried frown, "Don't give up and run away from the things you fuck up, can't you see the positive changes you've brought?"

What positive change? Stella and Rosa were out of my life, I'd never see Lucy again, I had no real friends, no family, and no relatives. The only friend I had left was her. Trish sees my puzzled look and parades on:

"It took balls to try and fix things with Lucy, and it must have hurt like hell to relive it. But she'd never have talked to me if you hadn't got to her.", Trish cries out her frustration at this point, "And I've missed her for an eternity. Are you so self-centered that you can't even see how I feel? Have you been ignoring everything I said earlier?"

I start to mumble a response, but Trish interrupts me:

"Anon, shut the fuck up! Don't you dare say such things about yourself!"

For once, Trish was complimenting me, in her own odd way. These were strange times indeed. I needed to say something back, to ease her mind a bit:

"I just don't want to hurt anyone else again."

"Still bullshitting me. You know you're not avoiding people to avoid hurting them.", Trish looks straight through my facade, "You're avoiding them so they can't hurt you."

"Are you any better? You left your best friends behind, burying yourself in work and giving up your passion!"

"I had no choice, there was nothing left of it! Fang didn't want me, Reed disappeared, I had NOTHING!", she looked down, breaking eye contact, "I had nothing. And I needed something in my life; I loved Sebastian with my entire being!"

"But now you too have a chance to set things right with Lucy! I hope you two will get along fine now, you were great friends back then, weren't you? That must count for something, still?"

Trish looks worried, a sad frown darkening her previously bright and peppy mood.

Maybe Trish didn't want to think of it, that they had been so close. She'd lost Lucy and had to live with her actions.

Was she afraid that she might not get her back, even if she was so close to it now?

Taking the last step means staking it all on one shot, win or lose, there's no way to go back.

The moment before the leap of faith where everything was still possible. Where the world stood still. Endless futures spread out, but as soon as you took a chance there'd only be that path left.

The world had stood still for far too long, living in the past wouldn't make us any happier.

Trish needed to hear this:

"She's your closest childhood friend, and you are hers. You've got to fight for her."

She looks at me, pissed, before rebutting:

"You've been running away from everything. You have NO right to tell me what to do."

"I understand that you're scared, I'd be too. But all you can do is try."

"No. I am NOT scared! You ran away from Stella, a girl that loved you to the end of the world and back, without talking to her!"

"She betrayed me! She lied! She hurt me more than ANYONE has ever done before, even more than you did!"

"Stop deflecting, face it!"

"I DIDN'T NEED HER TO MAKE DECISIONS FOR ME! I WANT TO BE ABLE TO TALK TO HER, I WANT TO SHARE MY TROUBLES WITH HER; NOT HAVE THEM BURIED IN THE BACKYARD! I WANT HER TO CARE FOR ME WITHOUT CHOKING ME, WITHOUT OWNING ME!"

I didn't notice at first that I had started screaming, but now my throat was aching. I was standing up, fists balled up, body shaking. I was one push left from fighting back.

This was the first time I had seen Trish look scared. I continue, since she was frozen in place:

"I love her, but I can't see past it. I just can't ignore it.", steeling myself and trying to lower my tone, "I know it was the right decision, I wasn't ready to go back to Fang; I wasn't in a good place emotionally! I wasn't prepared for a relationship."

Trish carefully interjects:

"So why'd you do it? If you knew she'd done something that helped you, why didn't you reciprocate her feelings?"

I'm so very tired, it hurts to think about it. But there’s an easy answer:

"I didn't want to get hurt again! If I wasn't there, she couldn't hurt me! If I cut her out, I wouldn't love her enough that she'd be able to break me!"

"Like Fang did?"

This deflates me, it hit just the right spot to puncture my wrath. Trish was right, she knew me better than I knew myself. The tension I'd been building instantly wears off. So I tell her:

"Like Fang did. Just… Just like Fang did."

"Anon, I think the three of us: you, me, and Lucy, should sit down together and work things out. I mean, I'd want Reed there too, but..."

"I understand", extending a hand and holding hers tight to try and ease her pain, if only by a little, "I think I would like that too."

"Your support, having someone that was with us in those days, would mean a lot to me."

"I know. I feel the same."

"Good."

A moment passes, as we let the silence speak. I need to tell her one thing, though:

"Trish?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad to have you as a friend."

"Same to you, Skinnie."

We finish preparing lunch in comforting silence, handing over utensils and aiding each other with preparing the dishes. Trish sets the table, then I bring over the Risotto and the wine bottle.

Trish almost fills both our glasses to the brim, to which she receives a raised eyebrow, but she just shoots me a tired smile. I ask:

"I guess you're staying the night, then? I’m not going to let you drive."

"Guess so. Wouldn't want to be alone tonight, even if you're never going to get company in bed. I'm too good for you."

Chuckling, I take a sip of the wine before I quip back:

"You're not my type. I want someone emotionally stable."

"Touché, Skinnie. You're not that much of a catch yourself."

"Cheers, to being stuck in the past."

"Cheers."

We raise our glasses in a toast, laughing at the peculiar situation we'd gotten ourselves into.

Trish plugs her phone in and puts on a bit of music on my stereo to cheer up the mood a little, after telling me that I'm ancient for still owning such a system.

Her taste had improved, a bit of classical music would have made any dinner more classy; no double bass experimental trashcore corrupting her soul.

The salad she made was good, she'd stolen a couple of ingredients out of my cupboard I'd never even imagined putting in: roasted some pine nuts, added a touch of honey, and some balsamic vinegar. Not what I’d planned to make at first, but it was good. She was even nice enough to compliment my Risotto, while still reminding me that it wasn't a "proper" one.

We eat in a comfortable demi-silence, chit-chatting about music, movies, exercising, and home decor. We agree upon watching something lighthearted later, the final choice ending up being between Aboot a Hoy and Botting Bill since they were good movies and rom coms, which was usually an oxymoron. Comfort movies we've both watched before, but they were wholesome and lighthearted enough not to bring any more hurt. Trish ended up choosing Aboot, so after we put away the dishes we move on to the couch with the last of our wine and a bowl of mixed snacks.

I log in to the streaming service and turn the movie on. The start is nice, the transition of the main character from an egocentric jerk to a caring jerk felt like it mirrored us both, to some degree.

After a while, Trish leans over on my shoulder, before whispering:

"Don't think of this as anything, Skinnie.", snuggling up to my shoulder, "I've just missed having someone close to watch movies with."

We both have, so I put my arm around her and hold her close. Getting close to me, she seems to relax again. Her crest pokes my chest, but it's still soft enough to be comfortable.

The scarce sip of wine and lone tear felled when Huge Mant, helps bring us both down to earth. I cared for Trish, as a friend. I knew she'd be here for me, and I would do all I could to do the same for her.

The end credits roll by after a heart-clenching finale, so I look down at Trish and see that she's fallen asleep clutching my shirt. I softly let her down on the couch, resting her head on a pillow and draping a blanket over her.

She mutters a bit in her sleep as she shuffles around a bit when I put the blanket over her:

"Plea... Please don't leave, Seb... I... I love...", before returning to snoozing again.

She sniffles, a tear falling on the pillow and leaving a tiny stain.

I stroke her head a bit, hushing, and whispering back:

"Don't worry, Trish. It'll all be well."

The edge of her lips curls up into a light smile and she nestles down on the pillow, hugging it tightly.