Page 29 of Piston

The bathroom door creaks as I push it open, the sound echoing through the silent apartment. Jenny stands in thebedroom, her arms crossed, a bottle of water and a handful of pills in her grasp. Her eyes meet mine, a mix of determination and concern swirling in their depths.

"Here," she says, holding out the offerings. "You need to take these."

I want to refuse, to push her away like I did before. But the throbbing in my head and the ache in my muscles won't let me. Wordlessly, I take the water and the pills, swallowing them down in one gulp.

Jenny watches me, her lips pressed together in a thin line. I can feel the tension radiating off her, the unspoken words hanging in the air between us.

I lower myself onto the bed, the springs creaking beneath my weight. The sheets are tangled, a reminder of the restless night I've had.

Jenny lingers by the bed, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. I can tell she wants to say something, but she's holding back. Probably afraid of setting me off again.

The silence stretches on, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. I stare at the ceiling, trying to ignore the weight of Jenny's gaze on me.

Finally, she speaks. "Piston, I know you're hurting. I know you're going through some shit. But pushing me away, shutting me out... it's not going to make it any better."

I clench my jaw, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. She's right, damn it. But admitting that means facing the truth, means confronting the demons that haunt me.

"I don't need your pity," I growl, the words coming out harsher than I intended.

Jenny flinches, but she doesn't back down. "It's not pity, you idiot. It's called caring. It's called being there for someone you..."

She trails off, biting her lip. I can see the frustration in her eyes, the hurt that my words have caused.

"Someone you what?" I prompt, my heart hammering in my chest.

But Jenny just shakes her head, a sad smile on her face. "Forget it. Just... just get some rest, okay? I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

She turns to go, her footsteps soft on the carpet. I watch her retreating back, a lump forming in my throat.

I want to call out to her, to tell her to stay. But the words stick in my throat, choking me.

The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sink back against the pillows, my eyes drifting shut.

But even as exhaustion tugs at me, pulling me towards sleep, I can't shake the feeling that I've just made a terrible mistake. That by pushing Jenny away, I've lost something I can never get back.

Jenny's hand rests on the doorknob, her shoulders tense. I can see the hurt in the way she holds herself, the way her fingers tremble slightly. She sighs, a sound that cuts through the silence like a knife.

"I can't keep doing this, Piston," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't keep watching you destroy yourself."

I clench my jaw, my pride warring with the part of me that knows she's right. "I'm not asking you to stay."

She turns then, her eyes flashing with anger. "You're not asking me to do anything. That's the problem. You never let anyone in, never let anyone help you."

I look away, unable to hold her gaze. The truth in her words stings, but I can't bring myself to admit it.

"Just go," I mutter, my voice gruff.

Jenny's hand tightens on the doorknob, her knuckles turning white. For a moment, I think she's going to argue, to fight back.But then her shoulders slump, defeat etched in every line of her body.

"Fine," she says, her voice flat. "If that's what you want, I'll go. But don't expect me to come running back the next time you need someone to pick up the pieces."

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with finality. I watch as she opens the door, as she steps out into the hallway.

"Jenny..." Her name escapes my lips before I can stop it, a plea and a prayer all in one.

She pauses, her back to me. For a heartbeat, I think she might turn around, might come back. But then she's gone, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

I stare at the closed door, my chest tight. The room feels colder without her in it, emptier. I know I should go after her, should apologize, should beg her to stay.

---