Resonance

Chapter 24 #2

I didn’t want to. But something in his voice pulled at me. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t disappointed. It was soft. Worried. When I finally looked up, his eyes were wet.

And that was the thing. Riff didn’t cry.

He hadn’t cried when his dog died when we were twelve, the mutt that had been with him since before he could remember.

He’d just said she’d gone to a better place and carried on.

He hadn’t cried when his grandpa had a heart attack either.

He’d stepped up instead, taking care of his mom, cooking, cleaning, doing whatever needed doing while she fell apart.

The first time I ever saw him cry was when I finally took it too far.

When Clara found me moments away from shooting up.

Riff had sat me down, looked me straight in the eyes, and broken.

Tears had streamed down his face as he begged me to stop.

Begged me to get help. Told me he didn’t want to wake up one morning and find out his best friend, his brother, was dead.

Didn’t want to identify my body. Didn’t want to see me rot away somewhere because I’d chosen a high over my life.

Those tears were what sent me to rehab.

Those tears were what made me want to change.

Even if it took a couple of weeks, and a pink-haired twink, to teach me what a different kind of life could look like.

“Bodhi,” he said again, his voice cracking. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. That you went through it alone.”

I shook my head, hands curling into fists. “I—it’s my fault, man. I shouldn’t have—” I hiccupped on a sob. “I should’ve realised. Should’ve helped him sooner.”

“No,” he snapped, sharp but not unkind. “No, Bodhi. This isn’t your fault.” He held my gaze. “Iggy is a grown man. He makes his own decisions. What you’re both going through is shitty, yeah, but this?” He squeezed my shoulder hard enough to make me wince. “This is not on you.”

My breath came apart, ragged and uneven, tears spilling faster as my shoulders slumped. I’d been wound tight for days, watching Iggy spiral, convincing myself that space was the right thing. That if I waited long enough, if I stayed calm enough, I could somehow save him.

Riff shook his head, like he could see the thoughts forming. “You didn’t force the pills down his throat,” he said quietly. “The only person who can ask for help is Iggy. And he has to be ready to take it.”

The truth of it hit hard.

Iggy had to want it.

He had to save himself.

All I could do was remind him he wasn’t alone when he did.

Riff pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tight. One hand pressed firm at my back, the other cradled my head as he anchored me there. I cried into his neck, ugly, heaving sobs that felt like they’d been building for days.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, fingers threading through my hair. “You’re okay. And Iggy will be okay.”

I nodded against him, clinging to the idea because I needed it to be true.

“Do you know where he is right now?” Riff asked gently.

“Yeah,” I rasped, pulling back to wipe my eyes. “He’s in his room.”

He exhaled slowly. “Do you want to go check on him?”

“Yes,” I said immediately.

I needed to see him, needed to know he was breathing. Needed to know I hadn’t left him alone with something irreversible.

“Alright,” Riff said, sliding off the stool. “But I’m coming with you.”

I nodded, the weight on my chest easing just a fraction.

Because for the first time in months, I realised I didn’t have to carry this alone.

Maybe that was the first step I’d been avoiding.

My heart pounded as I stood in front of Iggy’s door.

I’d been holding the keycard just shy of the scanner for at least five minutes, staring at the gold numbers screwed into the wood.

I couldn’t hear anything on the other side, but that didn’t mean much.

The doors were thick. Too thick to reassure me.

Still, something stopped me from opening it and barging in. Fear, maybe. Fear of what I might find. Or the quieter worry that I’d only make things worse—though I wasn’t sure how much worse they could realistically get.

“You good, Bodes?” Riff asked softly, his warm hand settling between my shoulder blades. “I can go in first, if you want.”

I shook my head. “Nah. I need to do this myself.” I exhaled slowly. “Just . . . wait in the hall. I’ll shout if I need you.”

“Promise?”

I glanced back at him and forced a small smile. “Yeah, man. I promise.”

Finally, I swiped the borrowed card and pushed the door open.

The bedside lamp was still on. The sheets were rumpled, empty.

My stomach dropped.

I spun slowly, scanning the room like he might be tucked into a corner I’d somehow missed. But it was all open space. No Iggy. Nowhere to hide except—

I approached the closed bathroom door carefully.

A thin strip of light bled from underneath it.

I pressed my ear to the wood and listened.

Water. I could hear the shower. Relief and dread tangled in my chest. I almost knocked, then stopped.

If he was still out of it, if he slipped . . . I couldn’t risk startling him.

So I eased the door open instead.

Steam rolled out immediately, thick and heavy, fogging my vision. The sound of running water grew louder as I stepped inside. Through the frosted glass shower door, I spotted him. A small, Iggy-shaped shape curled into the corner.

Panic hit all at once.

“Iggy!”

I yanked the door open.

He was sitting on the floor, bare legs pulled tight to his chest. Pink hair plastered to his face, dye bleeding into the water as it streamed down into his swollen, red-rimmed eyes. A baggy black hoodie—my hoodie—hung off him, soaked through and clinging to his frame.

He barely reacted.

The only reason I knew he was alive was because he blinked, slow and distant, and I could see his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. His gaze stayed fixed on the opposite wall, unfocused, like he was somewhere else entirely.

It hurt to see him like this.

So small.

Iggy was meant to be loud. Meant to take up space. Not with size, but with presence. He was built to shine, to demand attention just by existing.

He wasn’t meant to be folded into a corner like this. Silent. Drowning. Alone.

I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my socks, then stepped into the shower. Warm water struck my skin, soaking through my T-shirt and jeans almost instantly. I crouched slowly, careful and deliberate, like I was approaching a frightened animal, and rested my hand on Iggy’s shoulder.

He didn’t pull away. Barely moved at all.

But I heard the sharp hitch of his breath.

Saw the tremble in his lower lip, the way his eyes glassed over.

I slid my hand down his back, using the slick tiles to guide him forward, then tucked myself in behind him.

My legs bracketed his, and I drew him back until his spine rested against my chest.

He whimpered when I wrapped my arms around his thin frame. A sob tore free when I pressed a kiss to his cheek. When I squeezed him, his hand latched onto my wrist, tight and desperate, like he was afraid this wasn’t real. Like I might vanish if he loosened his grip.

“I love you,” I whispered into his ear, feeling him shiver. “I will always love you. One slip doesn’t change that.”

“Bodhi,” he croaked, tipping his head back against my shoulder. “I—I’m so sorry.”

“Shh.” I kissed his cheek again. “You’re so strong, Iggy Pop. The bravest person I know. But you’re tired. I know you are.”

“I’m not—I’m—” His voice broke, his cries echoing off the tiled walls. “I’m a f-failure.”

I shook my head and rested my temple against his. “No, you’re not. You made a bad choice. You stumbled. And do you know what we do when we stumble?”

“W-what?” he whispered.

“We get back up,” I said softly, repeating the words I’d once told him in rehab. “And we try again.”

He lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “I’m s-so sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have—what I d-did was wrong. And I shouldn’t have tried to drag you down with me.”

I squeezed him in response.

I couldn’t tell him it hadn’t been wrong. I couldn’t erase the mistake or pretend it hadn’t happened. But I could accept his apology. I could hold him while he already felt like shit and not add to the weight pressing down on him.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I . . . I tried calling my mum.”

“What happened?”

He scoffed softly and pulled my hand to his chest, cradling it there like a child with a teddy bear. “Her assistant answered,” he said. “The one who—the one who shipped me off to rehab the first time.”

I stayed quiet as he talked about seeing his brother’s post. About talking to Marc. About being dismissed, again, without a second thought. How it all compounded until loneliness tipped into something unbearable. How rock bottom felt too sharp to sit with, and numbness seemed like mercy.

After talking with Riff, I knew better than to blame myself.

I knew this wasn’t something I’d caused by stepping away.

Iggy had been spiralling long before today.

If it hadn’t happened now, it would’ve happened later.

Tomorrow. Next week. He’d been burning through matches, and eventually one had caught.

Still, guilt crept in anyway.

The quiet, insidious kind that whispered, “What if.” What if I’d stayed. What if I wasn’t also an addict. What if I were normal. Maybe I could’ve held him through it. Maybe I could’ve delayed the fall.

Those thoughts would take longer to shake.

Because just like Iggy, I wasn’t perfect either.

In the end, I was only human.

“I think I’ve always been a bit messed up,” Iggy whispered.

“I didn’t feel loved at home, so I went looking for it in all the wrong places.

Meaningless hookups, false friends, drugs.

” He brushed damp hair out of his face, fingers shaking.

“It’s like eating something rotten. It fills you up, sure.

But it’s empty. It’s unhealthy. It makes me sick to my stomach. ”

He turned his head, and I found myself staring into glassy green eyes.

“But it’s better than being alone.”

I cupped his cheek and leaned in, our lips hovering just a breath apart.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore, Iggy Pop.”

His breath caught sharply, the sound hitching in his throat as his hands tightened around my arm.

“I can’t always be there for you,” I said softly, meaning the moments I’d had to walk away and hoping he understood why. “But I promise I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll never stop trying. And I will never let you feel like you have no one.”

He closed the distance then, pressing his lips to mine. It was only a brief kiss, but it was warm. Steady. More intimate than any of the others we’d shared, because it wasn’t about desire or desperation.

It was a promise.

Not the kind that demanded perfection or sobriety or strength.

But the kind that made room for failure. For support. For help.

This was the pact we should’ve made from the beginning. Not to save each other, but to make sure we never had to face the hard parts alone.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Riff peeked inside. Iggy stiffened instantly, fingers tightening around my wrist in panic, but Riff only smiled. Soft and unassuming. Exactly what Iggy needed.

“Everything okay?” he asked quietly, eyes moving between us.

I opened my mouth, but Iggy spoke first.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling. “I—I’m really sorry.”

Riff stepped closer and crouched beside the shower, reaching out for Iggy’s free hand. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Iggy’s smile wobbled, fragile and unsure. His gaze flicked between the two of us before settling on where his hand rested in Riff’s.

“That’s the thing,” he said softly. “I don’t think I am.”

He turned to look at me, and I could see the moment it clicked. The fear giving way to resolve.

“I think—” He swallowed hard, drawing in a steadying breath. “I think I need help.”