“Everything should fit in the car!” Avi cheerfully confirmed with a clap of his hands.

“That’s great.” Mitch used the interruption to take a step backwards, and nodded when Avi mouthed ‘are you OK?’ at him. More bins were taken, this time three of them, leaving only one more trip until they could take off. While he waited for Avi to leave, he savored the warmth from sunlight that poured in through the window wall; this time it was enjoyable, unlike the countless days of he’d been strung out, simultaneously cooking and shivering on the sofa. The sensation of sweat-drenched skin and body hair ripping away from the black leather -pulling like a strip of Velcro- remained imprinted in his cells.

Once he and Calvin were alone again, frost returned to permeated the room. Mitch gathered himself, looked Calvin in the eye, and said, “Look, I need one last favor.”

Calvin ignored him, opting to remark, “He’s pretty cute. Are you two a thing?”

“No. I barely know him. He’s just…nice. Really nice.” Mitch shook his head, and ignored the pang of guilt that prickled somewhere in his digestive track, right around where the esophagus and stomach met. Avi had gone out of his way to be known for the duration of this roadtrip, and even prior to that, ever since he had moved into the house. In hindsight, that morning Mitch had revealed a few key things about himself that he’d never told anyone before, not even Jodie. They were probably friends by now, or at least on a fast track to getting there.

But Calvin didn’t need that information, so Mitch snapped his fingers and continued with, “Focus, please. It’s important.” Which one of them the demand was intended for was beyond him.

“That’s awfully bold,” scoffed Calvin, but the way that the corner of his lip curled meant that he was amused. Mitch decided that he could manage this hurdle.

“I need health insurance, at least until I know this is healed,” he gestured to his right arm. “I don’t get it through my job since I’m a contractor, and it could be considered a pre-existing condition if I try to switch now, so I’d rather not deal with that. Can I just like, iunno, pay you to keep me on yours? And then I can owe you a favor, or I can fuck off forever, whichever you prefer.”

Calvin’s face practically split open “Oh, I would have taken care of it regardless, you know that I love a charity case!” Mitch glowered, and Calvin eased up on the theatrics. “I’m kidding. Your words, remember? You’re the one that said that I like to ‘fuck wounded animals’.”

“That is so not what I said,” deadpanned Mitch.

“But in exchange for a favor?” Calvin continued as though he hadn’t heard the counter. “Sure, Mitch. You got it. Don’t know what I’ll ever need from you, but I’m game for that.” Without a doubt, the nausea and discomfort that Mitch was experiencing was not unlike what it’d be like after signing a deal with the devil. Now that he was thinking about it, that favor certainly should have been allowing Calvin to keep landing lowblows without taking him up on the offer to slap the shit out of him.

“Cool. Thanks. I mean it,” Mitch kept it earnest, but still dialed down the relief. He’d almost hoped that the request would have been declined, because the idea of being attached any longer than necessary couldn’t be good in the long run. But he was hedging a bet that Calvin would get bored sooner rather than later and forget the favor owed altogether. And besides, it was as Calvin had said: what could he possibly ever need from him?

“Look, I’d rather we not hate one another.” When Calvin spoke again, it was with such sincerity that sounded almost vulnerable. Mitch, taken aback, stared blankly at him, his rabbit heart hammering as he stood there prepared to sprint for the door. “I know that’s a tall ask, and you probably don’t believe me when I say that I still lo-“

“You can’t,” Mitch stopped him before he could finish the word, his body on the verge of seizing up. Last thing he needed was to go into cardiac arrest and be taken out on a stretcher, instead of on his terms, on his own two feet. “You can’t say that. Not now.”

“I had to do this, we’re not healthy for one another. We’ve become stagnant.” Blinking a few times, Mitch’s brain went into overtime to put the pieces together. That term was a newer one that Calvin had picked up ever since he’d gone on some zany spirit quest to try to solve the ‘what does it all mean’ conundrum that every person with unearned wealth eventually found themselves faced with. Mitch had tuned it out a while back because he had stuff like student loans to worry about.

“Oh my god, it’s that goddamn yoga instructor, isn’t it?” His eyes had already been fixed on the front entryway in the kitchen, and there he spotted a pair of tennis shoes that belonged to neither of them. “That wackjob, right? The meditation guy? Am I in a movie? This happens in movies.”

“He’s a spiritual guide, Mitch,” Calvin clarified, like he’d done so many times when he’d mention the man’s name in the past, and Mitch had reduced it to ‘yoga guy’. “And maybe if you respected that-“

“No way, babe. Good for you for being a stereotype and bagging hot ass yoga guy, be sure to tell me all about the crystals that he recommends he shoves up your butt for detoxing or whatever,” Mitch grinned with delight, making no effort to stand his ground as Calvin shoved him away. And when Avi resurfaced, it only made Mitch that more amped up for the upcoming car ride back. He’d probably burst into tears about the entire experience, but at the very least, it was going to be worth a good laugh. He hoped for that, anyway. If it was Jodie, she’d just fume and scream for the entire 3 hour road trip, and then for the next week after that. Maybe even an entire month. But Avi, with his laid back demeanor, would probably just be entertained and laugh along with Mitch, and he actually looked forward to that.

It felt good, in a way that a lot of things hadn’t lately. To not be reminded of the weight that had repeatedly threatened to crush him. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been so intimidated or even annoyed by Avi in the first place, and the guilt over it would be overwhelming had there been any room for it.

“Last trip?” Avi asked, and Mitch walked over to where the pile had dwindled down and grabbed his guitar case, then slung it over his back.”Yup,” Mitch nodded, feeling more sure of himself than he’d been in recent memory. Every step still was like walking barefoot on broken glass, but he could take solace that for once he hadn’t been the one to put the glass there and it wasn’t about him. And that was an incredibly rare feat, to not take on the mantle of blame. The other stages of grief would be free to come as they pleased, but at least this portion that he’d been fighting uphill with was overcome and slain.

The final few totes were gathered up, and Mitch told Avi that he’d meet him downstairs.