"What the fuck were you doing? Do you seriously know what that would have done to me? To my career and self-worth?"

"Just leave me alone, Chance. I'm a grown man and I can take care of myself. What are you even doing here?" I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes narrowed and lips set in a thin line. His glare was burning me. I couldn't handle the heat, so I did the one thing that I was good at. I stood up and went into the kitchen to just avoid the confrontation and get myself a glass of water.

"Where the hell do you think you are going? Do you think you can run away from me?" he yelled after me, his heavy footsteps following me into the kitchen.

I felt like rolling my eyes just to infuriate him further, just to get under his skin. His bruised face was no longer that bad. I could still see the swelling a bit though.

It was evening now, the sun no longer out. There was no way to avoid him because he kind of made it hard to. He was blocking the doorway with his intimidating aura and shiny suit.

What happened was that I left the door unlocked. It was a mistake. So he came back to get his suit jacket because he forgot it when he left in the morning.

He caught me red-handed trying to consume ten pills. An overdose of zolpidem and Cymbalta. Cymbalta were my new anti-depressants and zolpidem were my sleeping pills. Some would say it was the spur of the moment thing or I acted on impulse and was controlled by my emotions. That's not true.

I knew what I was doing and I was doing it deliberately. I was doing that to spite him. Do you know that one thing you just did because you wanted to spite someone, even though you knew it would only hurt you in the end? That your life was the one at stake, but you just did it anyway? That's why I did it. I did it to spite him.

I had already taken two capsules of Cymbalta and was about to take two sleeping pills when he came in. He said he'd knocked, but there was no response and he thought it best to try the doorknob. He'd barged into my apartment and saw all the pills on the coffee table. And now we are here. All because of my carelessness and lack of better of judgement.

I filled a glass of water and drank, putting away the glass when I've finished. I turned around to find him still glaring at me. This is really getting tiring.

"Why do you care? It's not even your life that was at stake, or even your friend's. Heck, I'm nobody important to you. So why do you care if I tried to overdose on 'drugs' as you said?" I asked him, matching his glare. They were not even drugs. They were just harmless pills.

Was he afraid that he'll no longer have a slave to drive him around or someone to unwillingly eat lunch with him? I didn't understand why he would get worked up like this. Or was it because the press was going to get a word that one of the Hughs’ Enterprise's employees had committed suicide and the higher ups didn't know anything? Was it because of his reputation?

My question took him by surprise because his face momentarily softened, confusion and some unknown emotions swimming in his eyes. I needed an answer and I wanted it right now.

"Why are you asking me that?" he asked me, a frown adorning his face.

"Well, then why are you busy chastising me like you're my father or something!" I snapped in annoyance. My hands were balled into fists, ready to punch his face if he were to tell me bullshit. I was losing my cool and those capsules were making me irritated.

"I'm not. I'm just acting like a concerned boss who is concerned about the wellbeing of his employees."

Okay. Tell me he's not serious.

"What the fuck! Are you serious? Tell me you are joking," I was fuming, the area around my temples throbbing. I tried to rub that area to lessen the pain, but it was to no avail.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm serious, Jason. This is bad for everyone. Not just you or your family. It's bad for the company and the people around you. I don't know what's going on in your mind right now, but this is serious. Yesterday you said you had no appetite, now I know why. That's the perks of doing drugs, Jason.

"I know it's hard to stop, but you have to stop eventually because they will swallow you whole. You will lose your sanity and end up pushing the people who care about you away. You need help. You nee-"

"I need help? I need help? You should see who needs help between the two of us. You are the one who needs help!" I yelled, taking a step towards him.

He took one back when I took one forward.

I jutted a finger in his direction, words slicing through his heart as I spoke.

"You treated me like trash the whole month! You made me drive you around like a slave! You! You made me eat lunch with you, forcefully. You made me feel insignificant and worthless! You made me your PA that was working for free!" Angry tears were trailing down my cheeks like a river that was flooding. Why was I this pathetic in front of him?

I couldn't see his face because the tears were blinding me.

"Calm down! If you hit me again, I will have you arrested! You will go to jail this time!"

I didn't know that I was readying myself to punch him again. I stopped halfway, freezing when my mind registered what I was doing.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing!

I quickly wiped the tears away and tried to look at his face.

What was I doing?

"Calm down, Jason. I know you are probably high right now and angry, but please try to control your anger," he spoke like I was a monster that needed to be caged.

"I-I am sorry. I don't know what came over me," I mumbled, dazed in a way. My mind was a bit hazy. It's like I couldn't register my actions anymore. I sat down on the couch, squinting my eyes because there were blurry images forming. I shook my head, trying to collect myself.

I felt his hand land on my shoulder, gently squeezing it.

What's wrong with me? What is happening with me?

The couch dipped a bit at the extra weight when he sat down next to me. "Look. Jason, I know what I did to you the last month was not fair. Heck, I regret doing what I did, but that was the only way I could get you to spend time with me," he said, his voice above a whisper as if afraid I would freak out if he spoke too loud.

It's like I was paralyzed. I failed to react to his confession. I couldn't control my mind and body.

"I never had friends growing up because they were dishonest. They only wanted me for my money. They didn't really want to be my friends. When you crashed into me the first time, I wasn't that angry. But when you crashed into me the last time and found out that you didn't know who I was, I was livid. I wanted to fire you because of your misconduct. I was really going to fire you and for real," he chuckled, a low chuckle that had me feeling slightly irritated because he had the nerve to chuckle in a situation like this.

He continued, "But then, I saw an opportunity. I saw an opportunity to make a friend. A good friend that didn't need money from me. An honest friend that didn't befriend me because they needed something from me. I couldn't let you slip away from my fingers.

"And now I know that I went about this the wrong way. I kept you in the dark and forced things on you. I made you my slave and my driver. I forced you to have lunch with me, as you said," he paused, taking a deep breath.

I wasn't looking at him, but I had my ears open. I heard everything he said loud and clear.

What I didn't get was why he wanted to be my friend. Why did he?

I mean, I was not worth to be anyone's friend. I would probably mess everything up and ruin the friendship that was still supposedly blooming. I always sabotaged everything I loved or cherished. I didn’t deserve the love people around me gave. I was not enough for it.

I didn't understand. At all. I had my head hung low, the situation I found myself in draining my energy and leaving me an empty shell.

He cleared his throat, shifting a bit and retrieving his hand from my shoulder. "And," he started, his voice quivering as if he was nervous. "I... That's what I wanted to tell you. What do you say we start over again? On a clean slate on our way to building a friendship that's healthy and constructive? What do you say, Jason?"

I raised my head a bit to look at him. His eyes were trained on me, a small smile decorating his lips as he waited for my answer. All my life, I've never had someone I could call a friend. I've never had someone I could rely on except my sister and mother.

If all he said was true and that he wanted to be my friend, then I couldn't mess this up. If I had a friend and told Mom, maybe she wouldn't come tomorrow. Maybe I could finally have that one person I could put my trust on and they would never betray me.

Well, he can see that I'm a little unstable. He can see that I'm not rich like him. Heck, he can see that I'm kind of a lowlife and a damaged person. He could see all of that, yet he wants to be my friend. Was he being for real?

Maybe, just maybe I could pick myself up and become better. Maybe I could have value and for once be worth something. Maybe I too can start all over again and better myself with his help. I mean, I've never had someone who willingly wanted to be my friend. Except her of course. She was my whole world. My world revolved around her and if I could trade places with her, I would, but that’s impossible.

"What do you say?" he asked again, rubbing his hands together and running them over his face.

Maybe it was the fatigue and stress that was influencing my decisions, but I found myself nodding to his question. I found myself taking his offer like the fool I was.

"So, a handshake will do. We should shake on it," he said, extending his arm.

Without a second thought, I shook his hand, alarms going off in my head, everything warning me against this deal I was making with the devil.

I hoped I wouldn't regret this. And I hoped he would prove me wrong. Maybe I would become better. Maybe all I needed was a support system that was around me 24/7. Someone who didn’t know the emotional baggage I was carrying. Maybe I needed someone who didn’t know my past to help me become better.