Liam didn’t remember falling asleep and who could blame him?

One moment he was staring at Mike’s threatening text message. The next, darkness.

The kind of deep, dreamless sleep that only came after physical exhaustion and really good sex.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Once, twice,three times.

Then it rang out loud, speakers cramped up to the max.

Liam’s eyes cracked open slowly as the sunlight coming through his window was aggressive, almost offensive.

He squinted at the ceiling, trying to remember what day or time it was due to his brain still being foggy.

The phone kept ringing, and Liam eventually reached out.

His arm felt like lead as he reached for it.

His fingers fumbled across the nightstand, knocking over an empty glass of water before finally finding the device.

He didn’t even look at the screen, just swiped and pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?" Liam’s voice came out rough, barely a whisper.

["Liam, you son of a bitch."] Darren’s voice crackled through the speaker.

["I just got the confirmation from Rachel. You paid my rent. Why the hell would you do that?"]

Liam stared at the ceiling.

His brain was still loading. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that Darren was talking. Words were being said but they felt distant, like listening to a conversation happening in another room.

["I mean it, man. You didn’t have to do that. I don’t know how to—"]

Liam’s eyes drifted to the window. The sun was high. Too high. What time was it? Eleven? Noon? He never slept this late.

["Liam? You there?"] Darren asked.

"Mike?" Liam mumbled into the phone. "Is that you?"

Silence.

Then: ["What the fuck? Who the hell is Mike?"]

The name hit Liam’s ears and something clicked. He blinked twice, shook his head, and suddenly the fog lifted. He was fully awake.

"Darren?" Liam said, pushing himself up against the headboard. His back immediately protested. "Shit. Sorry. I just woke up. I didn’t look at the caller ID."

["Clearly,"] Darren said dryly. ["Who the fuck is Mike?"]

Liam rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "Mike is the man who tried to kill me."

Another silence, longer this time.

["I’m coming over there right now," ] Darren said, his voice serious. Liam could hear him moving already, probably grabbing his keys.

Liam laughed, not a small chuckle. A real laugh that made his sore ribs ache because Darren always took things so literal.

"Relax, relax. I’m joking. Not literally. He’s my trainer at the gym. Guy’s built like a brick shithouse and thinks attempted murder is a valid workout strategy."

["Your... trainer?"] Darren sounded confused. ["You enrolled in a gym?"]

"Yeah. Pike Peak Fitness. The one you recommended, actually."

["That’s the one I used to go to," ] Darren said slowly, like he was processing information. ["You actually went?"]

"What part of ’Mike tried to kill me’ did you not understand?"

Darren let out a breath that might have been a laugh. ["Damn, man. I didn’t think you’d actually do it. You always talked about working out but never pulled the trigger."]

"Lost my job, lost my girlfriend, lost my reputation. Figured I might as well lose my ability to walk while I’m at it."

["That’s dark,"] Darren said. ["But also fair."]

Liam shifted on the bed, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt. There wasn’t one.

"So what’s up? You called me for something?"

["I already told you." ] Darren’s voice changed. It was softer this time but he was clearly uncomfortable.

["Rachel sent the confirmation. You paid my rent. I don’t know how to... I mean, you didn’t have to do that, Liam."]

Liam finally registered the words this time. He had been too foggy to catch it before.

"That?" Liam said like it was nothing. "That’s the least I could do. You’ve helped me so much already. Letting me crash at your place and coming to find me after Richard beat my ass. Not judging me when I showed up looking like a punching bag."

["That’s different,"] Darren argued. ["That’s just... being a friend. The rent thing is—"]

"It’s nothing," Liam cut him off. "Seriously. Don’t make it weird."

["I’m not trying to make it weird. I’m just saying I didn’t expect this. And I don’t want this to become..." ] Darren trailed off.

"Become what?"

["The norm."]

Liam understood immediately.

Darren hated handouts, always had. It wasn’t pride, exactly. It was something deeper, a fear of indebtedness.

Every time someone helped him, he felt like he owed them. And Darren hated owing people.

Liam had learned this years ago, back when they first became friends. Darren would rather struggle in silence than ask for help. It was a boundary Liam had learned to respect.

"Look," Liam said carefully. "I’m not trying to make you feel some type of way. I just paid to talk to Rachel so killed two birds with one stone. That’s it. No strings attached unless you have huge juggs. Just... a friend doing a friend thing."

["I know,"] Darren said quietly with an awkward laugh at Liam’s joke. ["And I appreciate it... it’s just... weird."]

"What’s weird?"

["You. Helping me. I’m used to being the one who..." ] Another pause. ["I don’t know. Never mind."]

"There’s nothing weird about it," Liam said. "And I didn’t help because I expected something back. I helped because you’re my friend and I could. End of story."

Silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable, exactly. Just heavy.

Then Darren spoke. ["Thanks, man. For real."]

"Anytime."

["Alright. I gotta go. Don’t let Mike kill you."]

"No promises."

The call ended.

Liam set his phone down and stared at the ceiling again.

Something was off. He could feel it in his gut. Darren was hiding something. Not the debt thing—that was obvious now otherwise he wouldn’t make barely $200 such a big deal. It had to be something else.

"Focus," Liam told himself.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Darren wasn’t okay. And for the first time, Liam wondered if his friend had not been ikay for a long time.