“There’s nothing wrong with seeking professional help.”

Bastian couldn’t believe how quickly the conversation turned to that topic, just two days after waking up in the hospital.

The only time he’d tried therapy, it hadn’t helped at all. He wasn’t about to spend money he didn't have just to hear someone tell him he was feeling bad - as if he wasn’t already aware. 

“I know” he replied, in a flat voice, while he was taking out the groceries from the tote bag and placing them in the fridge. Vegetables, meat, cheese, some chocolate pudding that seemed to be the same one that nurses served him at the hospital, after a terrible insipid soup.

It has been nice of Bagie to pick up groceries for him and drive him home after he got discharged from the hospital. 

He had also brought a package of homemade chocolate biscuits baked by his ex-wife, Moirin. Moirin had been the very first person to visit him in the hospital—one of only three. The second was Bagie, a few hours later. Then came Sarah, his neighbor and ex-girlfriend, with whom he still shared a good friendship.

“Your university surely has some kind of free counseling, or I could help you find some private therapist” Bagie offered. “How does that sound?”

He sighed. He really, really didn’t want to have that fucking conversation.

“I don’t have money for therapy,” he said. He was already barely keeping up with bills and rent. 

“I can take care of that.”

Absolutely not.

“You already helped me pay the first months’ rent. And I still haven’t given you back all the money, I can’t afford more debts, Bagie. So thank you, for real, but I can’t accept it.”

“You shouldn't view it as debt. You can take all the time you need to pay me back. You know I don’t need the money.”

Bastian slammed the fridge door nervously.

“I can’t keep depending on you! Okay?”

His voice came out louder than intended, and Bagie’s face immediately softened into concern. Bastian hated that worried look people gave him whenever he flared up. 

“Bastian, many young adults depend on their parents. It’s normal that you need some support.”

“But you’re not my father! And I don’t need your help.”

Oh, it was a shame that Bagie wasn’t his father. 

Being a better dad than Bastian's real father wasn't difficult, considering the man had kicked him out at sixteen, and all the times he laid hands on him and… His father was just terrible.

Bastian had met Bagie at a local youth shelter where Bagie regularly volunteered and donated money - he was a generous man in his late forties who genuinely cared about helping people in need. 

But Bastian no longer needed that, nor deserved it.

He had a job Bagie had helped him secure; he was enrolled in university because Bagie had helped cover tuition; he had moved out of the shelter and into an apartment Bagie had found for him. 

He had everything he needed, thanks to Bagie.

It was ironic how everything was finally in place, yet he still felt so broken.

He sank into a kitchen chair, as if standing had suddenly become too exhausting. Bagie rested a hand on the back of the chair beside him and cleared his throat gently.

“I know you won’t like to hear this, but you need help. And I want you to know that me and Moirin got you, if you need anything. I don’t want that to happen again, do you understand?”

“It won’t happen again” he whispered, smiling at him. They were painful words to pronounce, once again. He was tired of people doubting him. The psychiatrist that evaluated him at the hospital insisted to know if he still had suicidal ideation.

Bagie looked at him as he realized he had been indelicate.

“I don’t even know why I did it,” Bastian added quietly. “I have nothing to complain about. I have a roof over my head, a job...” 

“It’s not relevant how many things you have on the outside”, Bagie interrupted him, “if there’s a void to heal inside you. You don’t owe anyone an explanation, Bastian, no one is mad at you. We’re just worried because we care about you.”

Silence settled in the room, because Bastian didn’t know what to say and he didn’t want to keep talking about the fact he tried to kill himself. Bagie casually looked at the calendar hanging on the wall.

“Wait a few days before returning to work, rest a bit this weekend. Okay?”

“I can’t, I can’t risk my job. And don’t try to make me change my mind, it won’t work.”

Bagie let out a quiet sigh and raised his hands in defeat. Right on cue, Paulie trotted into the kitchen, followed by little tap tap taps on the floor. He looked back and forth between Bagie and Bastian, as if asking to be included in the conversation.

Bagie laughed, pointing down at the little dog.

“That rat dog saved your life. If he hadn’t barked for half an hour until the neighbors lost their shit, you wouldn’t be sitting here. ”

Bastian nodded. Sarah told him. It was half her merit if he was alive: she had a spare key for emergencies. He reached down, lifted Paulie into his lap, and stroked his back.

“Thanks for taking care of Paulie while I was… away. And I really appreciated your visit, but...”

“Do you want me to stay for lunch? I’m not inviting myself, but if you want me to...”

“Actually, I think I just need to rest” he said, nodding.

“Sure. It just makes me a bit nervous leaving you alone right now. Could you text me throughout the day? Just to let me know you’re okay? And text Moirin too - she’s been sick worried.”

“I will send you a picture of the lunch I’ll make with the groceries you picked for me and I’ll thank Moirin for the biscuits.”

“That’s my boy”, Bagie replied enthusiastically, patting his shoulder. “We’ll talk later then. Hey, don’t forget.”

Bastian smiled and listened to Bagie’s footsteps leaving the house and the door shutting close. The quiet that followed made him melancholic. He looked down at Paulie and Paulie stared back with his sweet black eyes. Thinking about how long Paulie would have waited for him if his attempt was successful made his chest ache and heavy.

“It won’t happen again” he murmured, gently scratching the dog’s neck. “Just in case you’re doubting, too.”