Chapter 25: The Save (Mia POV)
Chapter 25: The Save (Mia POV)
I stand outside Leo’s door, my heart pounding hard in my chest. The spare key feels cold in my hand, the one he gave me months ago when we were still okay. I haven’t seen him in days, not since he yelled me out, his face wild and broken. Jake called me this morning, his voice rough, saying Leo locked himself in the bathroom, cutting himself. “I can’t get in,” he said. “You’ve got a key, right? Hurry.” I ran here, my shoes loud on the stairs, my breath fast and shaky. The hall’s dark, quiet, and the air smells like paint and dust. I knock first, hard, my knuckles stinging. “Leo? It’s Mia. Open up!” No answer, just silence, thick and heavy. I slide the key in, turn it, and push the door open.
The apartment’s a mess, worse than last time. Broken canvases lean against the walls, paint cans tipped over, trash on the floor. It’s dark, the curtains shut tight, and it smells sour, like old whiskey and sweat. I step inside, my boots crunching on something, maybe glass. “Leo?” I call again, softer now, my voice shaking a little. Nothing. Then I hear it, a faint drip, steady and slow, coming from the bathroom. My stomach twists, and I drop my bag by the door, running toward the sound. The bathroom door’s shut, locked, and I bang on it hard. “Leo! You in there? Answer me!” Still nothing, just that drip, louder now. I grab the knob, twist it, but it won’t budge. Panic hits me, sharp and cold, and I shove my shoulder against the wood, hard. It cracks, then gives, swinging open fast.
He’s there, in the tub, slumped against the side. Blood runs down his arm, thin red lines dripping onto the white tile. The razor’s on the floor, small and dull, stained red. My breath stops, and I scream, loud and sharp, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Leo!” I stumble forward, my knees hitting the floor hard, and grab his arm. His eyes are half-open, dazed, his face pale under the stubble. “Oh God, Leo, what did you do?” I say, my voice breaking. He doesn’t answer, just stares past me, his lips moving slow, no sound coming out. Blood’s still trickling, not fast, but enough to scare me. I look around, frantic, and grab a towel from the sink, pressing it hard against the cuts. “Stay with me,” I say, loud, my hands shaking as I wrap it tight.
The door behind me bangs open, wood splintering, and Jake’s there, his big frame filling the space. “Mia!” he yells, rushing in. His eyes land on Leo, and his face goes white. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, dropping to his knees next to me. “Is he okay?” I nod fast, tears burning my eyes. “He’s bleeding, but it’s not deep. Help me!” Jake grabs Leo’s other arm, pulling him up a little. “Come on, man,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “We’ve got you.” Leo’s heavy, limp, and we struggle to lift him out of the tub. His legs drag, his boots scraping the tile, and I hold the towel tight, blood soaking through to my fingers. “He’s out of it,” I say, my voice high, scared. Jake nods, grunting as we move him.
We get him to the living room, half-carrying, half-dragging. The couch is old, sagging in the middle, and we lower him onto it, careful but fast. He flops back, his head lolling to the side, eyes still open but empty. I kneel next to him, keeping the towel pressed on his arm. “Leo, look at me,” I say, loud, shaking his shoulder with my free hand. He blinks slow, his lips moving again. “Daniel,” he mumbles, so quiet I almost miss it. My chest hurts, sharp and tight, and tears spill down my face. “He’s not here,” I say, soft now, brushing his hair back. “It’s me, Mia.” He doesn’t answer, just stares at the ceiling, his breath shallow.
Jake stands over us, his hands on his hips, breathing hard. “He’s a damn mess,” he says, his voice shaking with anger. “I’m taking him to New York. Tomorrow. He can’t stay here.” I look up, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. “He needs help, Jake,” I say, quiet but firm. “Not just a plane ticket.” He shakes his head, pacing a little. “He needs out of this place,” he snaps. “Look at him! He’s killing himself over that guy!” His voice rises, loud in the small room, and I flinch. “I know,” I say, my hands still on Leo, holding the towel. “But he’s not ready.” Jake stops, stares at me, then at Leo. “He doesn’t get a choice,” he says, low now. “I’m not leaving him like this.”
I sob, soft and messy, my shoulders shaking. “He’s all I’ve got,” I say, looking at Leo’s pale face. “I can’t lose him.” Jake kneels next to me, his hand on my back. “You won’t,” he says, quieter. “We’ll fix this.” I nod, but I don’t believe it. Leo’s slipping away, and I can’t stop it. I pull the towel back a little, checking the cuts. They’re shallow, clotting now, but the blood’s sticky on my hands. I wrap it tighter, my fingers trembling, and sit back, watching him breathe. Jake stands, pacing again, muttering about flights and plans.
I look around, my eyes blurry with tears, and spot his phone on the table. It’s smashed, the screen cracked bad, but I grab it anyway. Maybe I can fix it, get it working again. I shove it in my pocket, quick, before Jake sees. “Daniel,” Leo mumbles again, his voice faint, dazed. I lean close, my hand on his cheek. “Rest,” I say, soft, wiping my face. “We’re here.” He doesn’t move, just lies there, lost in his head.