Antidote by LC Lehesaho

11

Two hours and eleven minutes.

Two hours and twelve minutes.

Two hours and thirteen minutes.

My legs hurt, my lungs burn, and my head is exploding, but I keep on jogging on the treadmill, punishing myself because I can't ask him to do it. Not now. Probably never again.

The music—“Venom” by Icon for Hire—is pounding in my head because I don't want to hear my thoughts. Still, visions of last night replay in my head over and over again. The hurt in his eyes when I left him. Not Luke, I don't care what the fuck he thinks, but Tiger. I want to apologize to him, but I don't know how.

The movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I look to the door. Puma walks toward me, the cap backward on his head, the gray sweatpants low on his hips, and his T-shirt says IDK IDFC. There are dark circles under his eyes, just like I have, and he keeps his hands in his pockets as he stops in front of the treadmill I'm on.

He waits.

I don't take my headphones off because I don't want to talk to anyone. So, I keep going, and he keeps staring at me.

Two hours and twenty-six minutes.

Two hours and thirty-six minutes.

I feel like I might pass out, and I start to wheeze. My muscles take their time to follow the orders I give them, and I stumble, almost falling. Fuck. I slow down the pace and take hold of the handlebars, so I don't land on my face. My legs feel numb and shaky, so I slump to the floor and lean forward, resting my hands on my knees after getting off the treadmill.

Puma yanks my headphones off. "Good run, sis?"

"Hmph." I can't fucking breathe. Right now, it's exactly what I need.

"How was last night?"

The pain. It comes back even worse. I don't say shit to him.

"If I was you, I would've chosen a place that was out of sight when fucking someone, but you've always been theatrical. Comes from Dad, apparently."

His words make me jerk my head up, and my heart screeches to a halt. "What?"

Puma shrugs. "You heard me, sis."

If Puma saw… "Did anyone else—"

He cuts me off. "Yeah, Tiger was with me." Then he folds his arms over his wide chest. "About that. I know you two are best friends, and he is protective of you, but I find it kinda interesting how hard he took it."

I try to swallow the lump down. Fail. "What are you saying?"

"First, he tells me that he’s going to get a drink, but what he actually does is disappear with you to the bathrooms. Then he comes back, looking downright diabolical." Puma crouches down to meet me eye to eye. "And when we saw you fucking some guy in the alley, he froze. The Tiger I know doesn't freeze and stutter. The Tiger who watched you there did both. So, tell me, sister. What the fuck have you done to my brother?"

I can't breathe. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"I knew it. I fucking knew it." Puma stands up, takes the cap off, and slides his hand through his hair. "How long?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, trying to keep cool, which I'm not, not even close. I stand up on my numb legs and all I can think about is Tiger. I never wanted him to see that. Never.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Are you two fucking?" He glares at me and places the cap back on his head.

"No, of course not. What's wrong with you?"

Puma lets out a sarcastic snort. "What's wrong with me? Oh, please, sis. He is your brother, and you two have something going on. I know it. He smoked all of my weed when we got home and is still sleeping in my tub, so you're going to tell me what's going on, or I will beat the answer out of you."

"No, you won’t. You wouldn't harm a hair on my head, Puma." I challenge him, because hey, maybe I can make him do just that if I push him enough. "You're too much of a pussy to hit your sister, am I right?"

"Don't try me, Cobra. Answer the question." His eyes flicker, but he keeps control. So far.

"You've always been weak. That's why you smoke that shit because you're too weak to handle this life. That's why you use a gun when you kill because you are too much of a pussy to actually get blood on you. You wouldn't dare hit me, momma's boy." I spit at him. And I know I crossed the line. "I'm so sorry, Puma, I didn't mean to—"

Puma almost shakes from anger. "Screw you, sis. There was a time when you were the kindest person I knew, and I loved you the most, but now… You're the worst. You know that  Tiger went through hell before he came here, and still, you dare to mess with his feelings. He may not be my blood, but I would choose him over you anytime, sister. You're a fucking monster." He spins around and strides off.

The stinging in my eyes forces me to bite my cheek, and when Puma hits the door closed behind him, the tears fall down, and a sob escapes from me. I shouldn't have talked to him like that, and he is absolutely right.

I am a fucking monster because all I do is hurt the people around me.

I don't see Tiger the whole day.

And not even the next day either.

Which is almost an achievement because we live in the same mansion. I hadn't seen Puma either, not even when I knocked on his door and tried to apologize. He didn't open the door, even though I knew he was inside. Falcon agreed to be my messenger, which was partly surprising because I didn't tell her why Puma wouldn’t talk to me and why I'm avoiding Tiger.

I sit on my bed, trying to study to get my mind off of everything else. My front door opens and closes, and soon Falcon appears in my bedroom. She sits on my bed cross-legged and gives me a questioning look.

"You have fucked-up pretty good."

My breath catches. "What did Puma say?"

"That he wishes you would drop dead." she says and starts to fiddle with one of my pens. "And that's a lot when it comes from his mouth. What did you do?"

I shake my head. "I'm not talking about it. Did you tell him that I didn't do it on purpose?"

"What's it?"

"I said I'm not going to tell you. Did you tell him?"

Falcon nods, and her black bob bounces from the movement. "Yes, but he said that there's nothing you can do. That you fucked-up for good."

Her words crush my chest. I don't want things to be like this. I never wanted this to happen. "How about Tiger? Did you see him?"

"Nope, but I know he is on the other side of this wall because his Yamaha is outside. Go talk to him, please. You need to fix this. Everyone here is walking on eggshells right now." She gets up from the bed. "Whatever it is, talk to him. Speak it out."

"It isn't anyth—"

Falcon shoots her hand up. "Figure it out! This can't continue like this. We always fight, but we always make up. We don't hate each other, so get your fat ass up from that bed and fix this."

I know I need to talk to him, to both of them, but mostly to Tiger. I push up from the bed and convince myself that I can do this. We walk to my front door, and Falcon gives me a supportive tap on the shoulder outside of it. "Don't chicken out now."

Taking a breath, I make my way to the next door and knock on it with a shaky hand. The steps inside tell me that he is coming, and I prepare to explain myself.

But when the door opens, I forget everything I was planning to say. Tiger looks tired, his eyes slightly reddish, probably because of the weed, and his hair is tousled. But otherwise, he is dressed as usual and looks ready for the day.

"What do you want?" His voice is colder than ice. It makes me want to cry.

"I…" I clear my throat. "I want to apologize."

He doesn't say a word, just stares at me without any expression whatsoever.

"Can I come in?" I ask because I don't want to talk in the hallway—too many possible ears.

"No, I was just leaving."

"Tiger, please. We need to talk." I beg him, feeling tears rolling down my cheek.

"Why? You made your point very clear when you fucked him." He pushes past me to the hallway and closes the door. "I need to go."

I grab his arm and stop him. "Don't go. I never wanted to hurt you—"

His blazing gaze comes back to me, and he looks like he wants to kill me right here, right now. "But you did. You made a fucking choice, and it wasn't me. So, don't think even for a second that I'm going to make you feel better by telling you it's okay. It's not fucking okay, and it's never going to be okay. You're on your own, just like you wanted to be, so don't come crying to me that you feel bad. I. Don't. Care."

My insides are ripping to pieces. I don't want us to be like this. Tiger jerks his hand, but I cling to it so he can't leave. "I—"

He turns around in a blink of an eye and grabs my throat, slamming me against the wall with a bang. The black dots twinkle in my eyes, and the pain makes my adrenaline jump sky-high. Then comes the endorphin rush. I'm fucked-up in the head, but holy hell, I missed that.

"I said I don't care. What part don't you understand?" He fumes to my face, but all I see is his beautiful dark eyes and smell his familiar scent in my nose.

"I am so sorry," I whisper to him. My throat burns, but I embrace it. "Come back to me, please."

Tiger furrows his brows. "How?"

"I miss us. I miss my best friend," I tell him, but he shakes his head.

"No. We're not going back. Either you take all of me or nothing," Tiger declares and drops his hand from my neck. "And I know you have made your choice, so this is it."

"You don't mean that." I shake my head, unable to believe that he really said that. "We are more than this. We don't turn on each other, Tiger. Please, think this through."

"We could be more than this, but 'cause of you, we aren't. I don't have time for this. Memento vivere, Cobra."

He walks away, leaving me there, staring at his back with my blurry eyes. I can't believe he just said that. I place a hand to my neck, over the tattoo, which says the same thing he just said.

Memento vivere.

His neck has the same tattoo, but it reads memento mori. This was never supposed to happen to us. We swore there's never one without the other. That's what the tattoos mean to us. You need to remember your mortality, but you also need to remember to live. Without that balance, everything goes wrong.

We've gone wrong.