The Rehab Triangle

Chapter 13: Unspoken Blame

The rooftop has become my refuge. At first, I didn’t think much of it—a simple escape from the endless noise of the apartment. But it didn’t take long for me to claim it as my own. There’s something about being up here, just high enough to leave everything behind but still grounded in the chaos below. The city stretches endlessly before me, its lights blinking like Morse code, though I’m not trying to decipher it.

This is where I come when I can’t be inside anymore. When the walls feel too close, the air too thick. The rooftop doesn’t judge. It just holds me in silence.

I lean back against the ledge, staring out into the night. The cold has settled deep into the air, but I don’t mind. The chill keeps me awake, sharp. Anything’s better than the dull haze I’ve been fighting since this mess began. My breath fogs in front of me, a fleeting, tangible thing in a world that feels so blurred.

The sound of footsteps breaks the quiet, soft but deliberate. I don’t have to look to know who it is.

Zack.

He’s never been the type to sneak up on someone, not unless it benefits him. Even now, he probably thinks showing up unannounced is some grand gesture, like it’ll fix everything.

“Didn’t think I’d find you up here,” he says, his voice careful, almost hesitant.

I don’t respond right away. I keep my eyes on the skyline, refusing to let him see the flicker of irritation that crosses my face. “What do you want, Zack?”

He walks closer, but not too close. I can feel the weight of his presence, the way it shifts the air around us. “I wanted to check on you,” he says, like that’s enough.

I laugh, low and bitter. “You wanted to check on me,” I repeat, shaking my head. “That’s rich.”

He doesn’t say anything, and for a second, I think he might leave. But then he speaks again, softer this time. “I’m sorry, Eric. For everything.”

I turn to him, finally, and the sight of him almost makes me angrier. He looks like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders—dark circles under his eyes, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie like they might betray him if he lets them out. It’s a good look for guilt.

“Sorry?” I say, my voice sharp. “What exactly are you sorry for, Zack? Be specific.”

He flinches, just barely, but it’s enough. “For not being there. For—” He cuts himself off, searching for the right words. “For disappearing when you needed me.”

I scoff, turning back to the city. “Disappearing. That’s one way to put it.”

“I mean it, Eric,” he says, stepping closer. “I messed up. I know that.”

“Messed up?” I snap, spinning to face him. “You didn’t just mess up, Zack. You bailed. You left me to deal with everything on my own, and now you show up out of nowhere like I’m supposed to just forget all that?”

“I didn’t know how to face you,” he admits, his voice low. “I was scared.”

“Scared?” The word tastes bitter on my tongue. “You don’t get to be scared, Zack. Not after everything.”

He looks at me, his blue eyes filled with something I don’t want to name. Regret? Guilt? I don’t care.

“I’m trying to make it right,” he says.

“Make it right?” I laugh again, harsher this time. “You think showing up here and saying you’re sorry fixes anything? You think that erases what happened?”

“I’m not trying to erase it,” he says quickly. “I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe we could talk.”

I stare at him, the anger in me simmering just below the surface. “You don’t get to decide when we talk, Zack. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like everything’s fine because you finally decided to show up.”

He doesn’t argue. He just stands there, taking it, and for some reason, that only makes me angrier.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he says after a moment. “I’m sorry. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not enough,” I reply, my voice cold.

He nods slowly, like he was expecting that answer. “Alright,” he says, stepping back. “I get it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, like he’s waiting for me to stop him. I don’t.

When he finally turns to leave, he pauses at the door, glancing back at me. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re okay.”

I don’t respond.

The door creaks open and then closes behind him, leaving me alone again. The rooftop feels different now, heavier somehow. I run a hand through my hair, letting out a long breath.

Zack’s words echo in my head, but I shove them aside. Sorry doesn’t mean anything. Not anymore. Not from him.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the cold metal of the railing. The city stretches out before me, indifferent, unchanging. For a moment, I let myself wonder if there’s a version of this story where things went differently. Where Zack showed up when it mattered. Where I didn’t end up here, angry and alone.

The past plays in my head like a broken record. Zack’s easy charm, the way he pulled people into his orbit. How he pulled me into his orbit. I trusted him. More than I should have. And when it all came crashing down, he was nowhere to be found.

I exhale slowly, my breath visible in the cold air. The rooftop used to feel like freedom. Now it feels like limbo, a place where I can’t move forward but refuse to look back.

The city lights blink in the distance, but they don’t offer any answers. I don’t know if there’s a version of my life where Zack doesn’t betray me, where I don’t end up here—fractured and trying to piece myself back together.

But that version doesn’t exist. And wishing for it won’t change the one I’m living in now.

I lean back against the ledge, letting the silence wrap around me. The rooftop doesn’t demand anything from me. It doesn’t ask for forgiveness or answers. It just is.

And tonight, that’s all I can handle.