After a chaotic, nerve-racking morning, I find myself seeking out some peace and calm.

I draw these things from a number of different places. Aiden is my primary source, easily. His slow, deep voice, his huffing laughter, his huge hands reaching for mine. Endless sources of comfort to me. I never feel cozier or safer than I do when I’m with him.

But he has a call with his sobriety buddy in Berlin tonight, and I’m not about to make him miss it. I turn instead to my next most reliable source: plants, earth, greenery.

I spent my shift at the shop more with customers than with the plants, so when I get home, I switch on the lights in my apartment, take off my jacket and shoes, and go directly to the mini garden I’ve created here.

I stand amidst my houseplants and take a long breath of their familiar, foresty scent. Drift my fingers over the leaves, draw a flower up to my nose. I spend a lot of time taking care of my plants, but it’s worth it, to see them all doing so well.

I have a few others, though, that I can’t say the same for. Newcomers to my apartment that I recently brought over from the store. They were misplaced during a delivery, forgotten about. No one’s been looking after them, and it shows. Kent told me it was alright to throw them out, but I ended up bringing them home.

I’m fostering them, I guess. Trying to see if there’s anything that can be salvaged from the browning leaves, weak stems, and tangled roots. If I can save any of these struggling ones, I’ll bring them back to the shop, and we’ll see if we can find them a home that suits their needs.

Some of these are probably lost causes, but there might be life to coax out of them, yet.

I usually work with my headphones on when I’m tending to my plants, but tonight I could use some quiet. I end up standing in silence at my kitchen counter, gently extracting an ailing plant from its pot. The soil is completely dried out, but it clings to the roots, to my gloves.

It’s a slow, meticulous task, to remove the grime that’s choking the roots. I take my time, careful not to break or damage what’s already so delicate. The plant has gone without water for way too long, and the slightest bit of pressure in the wrong place could do some real harm.

As I settle into my work, my mind finally goes blank, slides into a sort of meditative state. I give myself some precious time to think about nothing at all, and it feels good.

I spend a while free-floating in this headspace, and then - I sink deep into my thoughts.

I’m so enormously relieved that things didn’t go worse, today. They could have, there’s no doubt in my mind. I shudder to think of what Ralph and Noah’s argument might have devolved into if Aiden and I hadn’t gotten there when we did. Noah definitely wasn’t looking for a fight, but he pushed back reflexively when Ralph crossed his boundaries, and Ralph, as always, took this slightest gesture of resistance and treated it like Noah threw a punch at him.

Now that I finally have a second to think it over, the whole interaction at Ralph's house strikes me as strange, at least from Ralph’s end. He doesn’t usually fuck up the way he did today. He usually does his research, exhibits impressive patience, makes every move with careful consideration. He doesn’t normally get his hands on usable intel and make a careless mistake in his rush to use it.

He doesn’t normally seem so… desperate, almost? Is that what that was?

I walk myself through the conversation that he had with Noah, but this time at my own pace.

As soon as it became clear to Ralph that his scheme wasn’t going to work, that Noah wasn’t going to succumb to the pressure... it was staggering, how quickly Ralph lapsed into undisguised hostility. Openly berating Noah, trying to break him apart, crush him down, get him back underfoot. Ralph likes to pretend that he’s cold and calculated, nothing more. But his anger must be seething right beneath the surface and burning at a constant high temperature, if it can be drawn out that easily.

In the whirlwind of his rage, he didn’t even seem to hear Noah say that he’d only come to the house because he was worried about him. He went there because he was ready to have Ralph’s back, even after all the bullshit that Ralph has put him through. To go up against Cam, a terrifying, violent, dangerous man with a whole crew for backup. Noah was ready to walk into that, to face that down, for Ralph. Even now.

And Ralph, despite staring this fact in the face - couldn’t see that at all. It was completely and totally lost on him.

So - what’s the source of this blindspot that Ralph can’t seem to find his way around?

I remove a clump of dry soil from a root, then push my hair out of my face with the back of my wrist. My gloves are steadily accumulating a coating of debris, but that’s what they’re there for. The plant is slowly starting to come free from everything choking it up. I smile to myself, discovering that not every root has suffered. There are still a few good ones left, usable ones.

As I’d hoped, doing this is calming me down after the disaster that was this morning. Thank fucking god, because that was a lot. The bulk of my distress came from worry over Noah, but I was also so pissed off at Ralph. Now, that anger has simmered down into frustration.

I’m itching to grab Ralph and shake him, ask him why he can’t see the hands reaching out to help him. Tell him that all of his stupid, manipulative power games aren’t just cruel and harmful, but unnecessary, and actively driving away anyone who wants to forge a connection with him. A real connection. One that both sides chose.

Not a connection based on loyalty, or his warped definition of it. Not a connection that only exists because Ralph forced it to happen, then held onto it by making the other person feel like they’re worth nothing to anyone else. That they have nowhere else to go, no one but him to turn to.

That shit is so possessive, controlling, exploitative. Closeness achieved through that method isn’t real closeness at all. That kind of relationship is based in fear, not love. Doesn’t Ralph know that?

Maybe he does. Maybe he’d rather people fear him than love him.

Although...

There is another possible explanation. Maybe Ralph has never had any relationships based in love, even as a kid. I don’t know him very well, and I don’t want to make assumptions about his life, but - this does explain the blindspot. That kind of relationship might be something that Ralph just fundamentally doesn’t understand, because he has no experience whatsoever with it. Could be why he doesn't see it when Noah or anyone else offers it to him now.

Again, I have to wonder if Ralph has ever given this any serious thought. If he’s got it all rationalized out in his head, and he thinks that there’s solid logic behind the choices he makes. Based on how confused he was by what I said to him earlier, I think... he’s under the impression that what he’s doing makes sense, but because he only thinks about it on the most surface level.

He’s all action, no reflection, never turning his gaze inward. He must be really uncomfortable with what he might find there, because no matter what happens, he refuses to look too closely. He blames everyone else when things go wrong for him, even when he’s the obvious cause of the problem. He never does any archaeology on his own inner landscape.

Maybe because he knows how unhappy he’d be with what he would unearth. What he might dig up.

Aiden told me that one of the worst things about getting sober was the guilt. Coming out of the fog left him thinking about the way he’d treated people. All the things he’d said and done that he couldn’t take back.

I remember how Ralph reacted when Noah brought up the unprovoked punch that Ralph blindsided him with, the one that so badly blacked out his eye.

Ralph winced, the very briefest flash of guilt in his eyes - then flew totally back into his anger, and directed all of it at Noah. It wasn’t Ralph’s fault for throwing the punch, it was Noah’s fault for failing to dodge it. And no apology, because if Ralph apologized, that would mean admitting that he was the one who did something wrong.

That split second of regret in Ralph’s eyes. The way he immediately flinched away from it, ran as hard as possible in the opposite direction.

These little things are what make me wonder about Ralph, who he really is when all the bullshit is stripped away. I wonder if Ralph himself even knows who that person is.

I think I can discern at least one thing about that person. That person really misses Noah.

I mean, yes. It’s very possible that Ralph only wanted to get Noah back because control freaks have serious issues with letting anything out of their grasp, even if they don’t really care about that thing in any meaningful way. But something tells me that’s not the case, in this situation.

Ralph said that he only wants Noah back because he needs help with his business. Total garbage. I’m sure that having Noah around would help, but Ralph is more than capable of running things on his own. He doesn’t need Noah for that.

I honestly think that the truth is much simpler. Deep down, Ralph just misses Noah. He misses having him there. A lot. It would actually be kind of sweet, if he wasn’t being so absolutely goddamn terrible about it.

There’s clearly some part of Ralph that wants a real connection, even if he doesn’t know what it’s supposed to look like. Maybe that part of him is silent, and has been for a long time, but it’s pushing him and guiding him in ways he doesn’t seem to notice or understand.

I’ve been lost in thought for some time, but now I blink and look down at the plant. The roots are all free, exposed, cleaned up.

I reach for my secateurs and start carefully snipping away the leaves and stems that are dead already, which are weighing the plant down. When that’s done, I rinse out the pot and start filling it up with better soil. Dense and nourishing, nutrient-rich. The kind of giving earth that can bring life back into seriously injured plants. It should make for a good seedbed to take root in.

I’m gently tucking the plant into it when I’m torn out of my thoughts by a sharp knock on my door.

I shake back the sleeve of my flannel to check my watch. It’s getting late, but I thought that Aiden’s call would run a little longer than this. I also didn’t know that he was planning on coming over when he was done, but I’m definitely not complaining about it.

“Hey, you,” I call, already smiling. “It’s open!”

A few seconds pass in silence, and I lift my eyes from the plant to see that my door hasn’t opened. I frown at it, confused. What is Aiden doing out there? Is he okay? That was sort of an aggressive knock, for him. Did his call with Eric go badly, for some reason?

I pull off my gloves and stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans as I rush to the door.

No one is there when I open it. The hallway is empty and silent. Baffled, I step outside, and something immediately pokes me through my sock. I step back hastily, then look down to find -

My car keys, on the doormat.

I freeze, staring at them, my head spinning. I bend down and pick them up, confirm that they’re definitely mine. The Bigfoot Field Research Association keychain is pretty much a dead giveaway.

I understand all at once. In my rush to get to Noah this morning, I forgot my keys in my car. Right on the front seat, I realize now. And the car is parked, like - not even a block away from Ralph’s house.

Oh, no.

My heart twists in cold horror. I race back into my apartment, stumble into my shoes. Then I turn and rush down the stairs, taking them in leaps and bounds.

“Shit,” I whisper. “Shit, shit, shit, shit-”

I love that car, and if Ralph did anything to it, I’m going to be fucking devastated. No, fuck that, I’m going to be furious. After everything that happened, somehow I’m going to be the one who ends up throwing hands with Ralph.

“Oh, you bastard,” I gasp, as I jump the last set of stairs. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ralph, I swear to god-”

I thought it would be fine to leave my car there overnight, I didn’t realize I’d left my fucking keys in it, and Kent needed his car back, so Aiden and I were gonna go get my car first thing tomorrow morning, which all sounded fine at the time, but now… I didn’t even realize my keys were missing, I keep the one for my apartment on a separate ring, the same ring I use for my keys to the shop.

I burst out into the winter night, my breath fogging on the air. I peer through the darkness, using what little glow comes from the streetlights to scan every car parked on the street.

A familiar flash of blue meets my eyes, four or five cars down from the door of my building. I let out a sharp breath, and run for my car.

I reach it in record time, place my palms on its blue hood. It’s parked neatly against the curb, and so far as I can see, there’s no damage to the exterior. I click the button on the keys, and the headlights flash as it unlocks.

I check every seat, try turning it on, test the brakes, even scan the speedometer and the radio buttons, everything - but nothing seems different about it.

“Are you okay, buddy?” I ask, smoothing a hand over the dashboard. “You seem okay, so what…?”

I sit there in the front seat, struggling to understand, and finally hit upon the same realization I did after Ralph left Noah’s stuff at the house.

I get out of the car, close the door, and turn slowly on the spot. My eyes rove over the empty sidewalks, the dark stretch of road, all so silent and still.

“Ralph?” I say quietly. “Did you try to do something nice, again?”

From the corner of my eye, I catch the tiniest flare of orange light, all the way down at the very end of the street. The glowing tip of a cigarette, between the fingers of someone hidden in the deep black shadows of the trees.

I take a step forward. The moment I do, the tiny smoldering point of light sails through the air, flicked away from its owner. It hits the sidewalk, and there’s a burst of sparks as it’s crushed out beneath the heel of a boot.

I set off towards it without thinking, and see someone turn in the shadows. The streetlights catch briefly on ice-blonde hair.

“Ralph!” I call, picking up speed. “Ralph, wait a second!”

He slips around the corner, out of sight. By the time I get there, there’s no sign of him. Just the crushed Marb on the sidewalk.

I turn on the spot, looking for him, but either he left, or he’s doing an exceptional job staying out of sight.

“I was just gonna say thank you,” I tell the empty street. “Thanks for bringing my car back for me. I appreciate it. Cool to see you do something nice again. I knew you had it in you.”

I wait for a minute or two, but there’s no answer.

Eventually, I give up and go back to my apartment. I lock my car, and this time, double-check that the keys are in my pocket.

I don’t know if Ralph is gone, or if he’s still around. I don’t know if he heard what I said.

But I think I sense a pair of eyes watching me, right up until I close the door after myself.