Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

first day of November, he sent, Sorry I'm an ass.
    You're not , I texted back. Why do you think so?
    He didn't answer me.
    Friday I didn't see Alan pass after work, and he didn't text. Saturday he didn't text either. In the evening I called Mallory but my call went to voicemail and I couldn't casually ask if she'd heard from Alan, so I hung up.
    Sunday morning he texted, Why did Lilia give me this?
    Because she wanted to. Are /you/ going to tell her no?]
    Monday night he texted, Guess what? I'm an abomination! Whoo!
    People are stupid , I texted. Ignore them.
    I'm a disgrace too.
    Bullshit.
    Why don't you hate me?
    I stared at the words for a long moment, then texted back, Why would I?
    I'm drunk.
    So?
    I'm stupid.
    You're not. Look, I'm at work. I'll come over later, all right?
    Go the fuck home, Batman , he replied. You gotta save the world again tomorrow. Turning my phone off now.
    I would have gone over anyway, but my last customer of the night somehow didn't look before pulling out and got into a head-on right in front of my station. I helped, of course, and then I had to tell the police what I'd seen a few times, and before I got out of there it was past one and I figured that Alan was asleep.
    Tuesday night the group was supposed to meet at six. Mallory called me at four. I was in the middle of another blasted paper, up on the fourth floor of the library; I went out in the stairwell to answer.
    "Lukas here."
    "Lukas, I can't make it," Mallory said, talking fast. "My great-aunt— well, I'm at the airport, flying to Arizona. I texted Alan but he didn't answer, and calling goes right to voicemail."
    "I'll let him know. I hope your aunt is all right."
    "She's dying. Not trying to sound heartless, but we're on the runway and I have to turn my phone off any second. Listen— I haven't talked to Alan since Saturday and he was weird then. If he doesn't show up, promise me you'll go over there?"
    "I'll check on him. Weird how?"
    "Fake. Like— like he was hiding something. Laughing and joking and it was all wrong. We've talked a lot , Lukas. I know things he never told his sister. I can't imagine—" An announcement cut her off. "I have to go. Do what you have to, Lukas. Don't let him do anything stupid."
    "I'll take care of him," I promised.
    "He keeps a key in the peeling wallpaper to the left of the door, behind that fake plant. He— Lukas, he's my best friend."
    "I'll take care of him, Mallory."
    Mallory's worry infected me before I'd closed my phone. We weren't due to meet for two hours, but I didn't want to wait that long to be sure Alan was okay. Mallory had asked me twice to check on him, and told me how important he was to her besides. She was rattled, and Mallory wasn't like Alan, getting all dramatic for the fun of it.
    I texted him. Mallory just called me. I'll be your chauffeur tonight—what time?
    After half an hour— and maybe fifty lousy words on my paper— he hadn't answered. I went back out to the stairwell.
    My call went straight to voicemail.
    Getting to my truck and over there would take ten minutes, twenty if traffic was bad. I considered the idea that I was over-reacting. I wondered if I'd look like an idiot, showing up at his door an hour before the meeting to drive him five minutes back to campus.
    I packed up my stuff and left. In the elevator I texted Tania that the meeting was canceled, sorry for the short notice.
    Traffic was bad, worse than I'd expected since I always left campus before rush hour or after, never during. Seventeen minutes into my drive with three miles left to go, Alan texted me.
    Help me.
    The light changed. I kept one eye on traffic as I texted, I'm coming.
    No , he sent. I'm fine. Forget it.
    I'm coming , I sent at the next light. Five minutes.
    Fuck you, Batman.
    Six minutes of frustrating driving later, I pulled into his parking lot. What daylight we'd had through thick clouds faded as I trotted into the building, causing some silly superstitious notion to kick me into a run. The panel showed the elevator on the eighth floor so I took the stairs.
    When I knocked on Alan's door he didn't answer. I knocked again, then texted Let me in or I'll call 911 for a welfare check.
    FUCK YOU , my phone said. I found the key right where Mallory said it was and used it.
    Opening the door released a wave of cigarette smoke. Something, I realized, that hadn't been present the first time I came. No ashtrays, and no cigarette smoke that first time. Another judgment blown