Page 193 of The Comedown

“See?” He thrusts a hand out at me. “You want me, but.”

“I want you, Julian. You. Not the person drugs and alcohol make you.”

“Drugs and alcohol are me just like touring is you. We can’t change who we are.”

We stare at each other for a long time, tears streaming from my eyes as his remain red, puffy, and unreadable. Julian looks like a warzone full of emotional carnage, and I feel like I just walked through one. I’m wounded. Shattered.

I want to collapse in on myself and forget today ever happened. Forget any of this ever happened. But I can’t. Addiction is a lifelong struggle, one we’ll both have to battle on a regular basis. It doesn’t just go away over night because you wish it would. Usually, you need something to force your hand, a wake-up call, a fork in the road; whatever it is, something has to give in order for change—real change—to occur. I hate that it’s us.

Even with our breakup serving as the catalyst though, it can’t be the reason.

“We can’t change who we are…for other people. If you’re only doing something for someone else, and not yourself, then you’re guaranteed to fail. You gotta want it,” I say, quoting what he told Holter that day on the court.

In order for either of us to overcome our addictions, I cannot be his salvation, and Julian cannot be mine.

I shake my head, watching as Julian’s throat bobs with…something I can’t place, then I pull out my phone, typing and sending a series of texts. Texts for me, texts for Julian. Texts for our future, should we both choose to have one together.

I’ll follow up with emails later, but right now I need to at least get the ball rolling. I can’t walk away otherwise.

When I look at Julian again, his thumb’s up to his mouth, and he’s gnawing at the skin he chews on when he’s feeling nervous, when he’s feeling unsure, when he’s feeling, period.

He’s scared I’ll go because then he’ll be alone, but he’s even more scared I’ll stay because all he’s ever been is alone. Julian’s not only conditioned to expect trauma, he welcomes it…on what he believes are his terms.

That’s what all of this was about—self-sabotage. Yes, he ruined his own career with tonight’s actions, but that was not his main purpose. Neither was calling out Bodee. Those were only by-products of his main goal, which was to take control of a situation he no longer felt in control of. He thought I was going to break up with him, and maybe, eventually, I might’ve—I don’t know, neither of us do for sure—but instead of fighting, instead of trying at all, he broke up with me first. He gave up. He gave up control, he gave on me, he gave up on us, he gave up on himself. He did exactly what I feared he’d do when faced with a real-life relationship with real-life ups and downs and disappointments, he chose to return to his safe place. The place no one can hurt him any more than he’s already hurting himself.

“Whenever you choose, now, tomorrow, next week, next month, you’ll have the pick of any rehab facility in the country. All paid. I’ll help you any way I can, but you have to decide to help yourself…for yourself. I can’t save you, Julian. I tried, but you weren’t ready. You weren’t willing.”

Even so, it still feels like I’m the one failing him. I wanted to be the one person to stand by his side, his queen in not only his rise but also if ever he were to fall, and I’m not going to be. Hopefully just for a little while.

Pushing to my feet, I approach the loveseat, keeping Julian’s eyes as I bend down to one knee, then the other in front of him, the bones in my ankle clicking noisily.

“Collette…”

As soon as he notices my hand coming at him, his body tenses up, so I slow my advance, showing him my intention as I reach for his throat. My middle finger locks on to its usual spot, right on the lip of Julian’s tattoo, immediately sensing his pulse beneath the thin skin, then we’re both motionless.

“I promise to keep reaching for you, little lamb, if you promise to give me something to reach for.”

“Collette. It’s… I’m…” Tears streaming down his face, he leans away from my touch before leaning back into it. He’s still conflicted, and being pulled in opposite directions, just like I was.

“I love you so much,” I tell him.

“Don’t.” The tears turn into hot rivers, splitting over my fingertips to run down his neck in wavy rapids, soaking his neckline.

“I love you, Julian.”

Holding back any response at all, his body convulses on a poorly contained sob.

The sight’s too much to take, so I shut my eyes, picturing him the way I want to remember him.

All these years I thought falling in love was the hard part, but I should’ve been worried about the falling-out part because making myself walk away from Julian without knowing if I’ll get to see him again, is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

Love is a salve, not a staunch. It can only soothe wounds for so long until you’re bleeding out and need an actual remedy. Both Julian and I are hemorrhaging right now from letting ourselves go untreated for so long, and in order to effectively stop the blood loss, we have to learn how to love ourselves first.

“If you don’t come back to me, I swear I’ll come find you myself. Please, please don’t make me have to. Come back to me,” I beg him, then I get up and leave, taking the needles by the door with me.

Collette

I’m staring at the painting on the wall when Tanya, my new assistant, walks into my suite, asking, “All good?”