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Ted's phone buzzed ecstatically. Angry. Shouting, "Pick it up! Now!!"
Ted grabbed the phone and put it to his ear. "Dad?" It was Henry, sobbing. "Dad?"
"Yeah?" Ted started panicking. "I'm here, buddy, what's wrong?"
"I miss you dad, can you come home?" Henry was choking on tears. His little voice coughed and sniffled. It was hot and wet tears soaking his face. Ted didn't see it much, Henry was a normally joyful kid. Took things and ran with them. Took punches, and shrugged them off. Ted felt a weight of guilt crushing him. He clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm. "Dad, I miss you. Can you come home?" Henry asked it again. "Please dad? Dad? Are you there?"
"I-I-I'm here buddy, Im here. I, I'm so sorry, Henry. I'm stuck here, you know that. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Ted started choking up. This all happened in his office, everyone else had left for the night. Or so he thought. Trent walked in.
"Ted? What's wrong?"
Ted pointed to the phone, mouthing 'One second.'
"Okay. Sorry," Trent sat down in the next room.
"H-Henry, I'm sorry. I—"
"Ted? Hey sorry about all that. Henry threw a fit about not getting dessert for the third night in a row. Talk to you later okay? Bye Ted."
"B-bye Michelle."
She hung up on him. Ted stood there, phone now in pocket. "Trent?" his voice cracked.
"Yeah?" Trent raised a brow and slid the chair into his office.
"I'll be outside," And he grabbed the Swiss Army knife off his desk where he left it.
Trent watched the whole thing. He waited for Ted to leave when he finally said, "Shit."
Ted was in the parking lot, holding the Swiss Army knife against his wrist. Waiting to slide it down. Open the skin up. He didn't deserve to get off scot free when his son didn't. "I'm so sorry Henry," Tears slid down his face. Then he started to press down, and a few beads of red caught the light of the moon, trickling down his arm.
Trent was shuffling through, grabbing the first aid kit under his desk, and Ted’s jacket off his chair, then he ran outside.
“Ted?!” Trent shouted to the parking lot.
Ted was an inch down his arm, just around a corner, a line of blood starting to gush. Tears clouded his eyes and a pounding covered his ears.
“Ted?” Trent looked around more. Ted choked out a sob. “Ted,” Trent gently took his hand, and took the knife. “Hey, look at me,” Trent took out the bandages from the first aid kit, and started wrapping them around Ted’s arm. “It’s okay. Right?”
“Huh?” Ted looked up, his eyes weren’t quite open, they were puffy and red with stains from tears.
“Okay, okay, come on, let’s go back inside. You have your therapist’s number right? We can try to get a hold of her, it’ll be okay.”
Ted didn’t react, but Trent put his jacket around his shoulders, holding him tightly, walking him inside. “Where’s Henry,” Ted whispered.
“H—,” But Trent held his tongue, for once.
“He’s not here,” Ted sobbed.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” He sat Ted down in a chair, and kneeled in front of him. “What’s your name?” Trent asked. Ted’s eyes flicked up at him.
“My name?” He almost smiled. “Ted.”
“Where are you?”
“The football club, on Nelson Road.”
“What’s my name?”
“Trent Crimm, Not The Independent,” Ted’s eyes rounded.
Trent held his cheeks with both hands. “Where are your feet?”
“In my shoes. On the ground.”
“Your hands?”
“Right here,” He examined them both. “They’re right here,” He looked at the deep scar in his right hand.
“Where’s your head?”
“On my neck.”
“And your feet?”
“My feet are on the ground.”
“Okay, do you think we could call your therapist?”
Ted picked up his phone and dialed her number.
“This had better not be a joke, Ted Lasso.”
“Doc, I think I have a problem.”
She said nothing, expecting him to continue.
“I’ve got my friend here, I just,” His lips trembled. “I just tried to hurt myself, really, badly,” He cringed through the sentence.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, like I said, my friend is here, he stopped me, bandaged up what damage I did, I’m okay.”
“Ted?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re okay?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
Trent still sat in front of the chair, listening, holding Ted’s other hand, massaging his palm.
“You’re struggling with anxiety, Ted.”
“Does it get better?”
“It gets better. I promise.”
“When? Because if I’m being honest, I’m getting impatient.”
“It gets better,” She repeated.
“Can you tell me something helpful?” He joked.
“Take some deep breaths, think about what’s around you, who’s around you, just don’t let your mind get too far away. Stay grounded to your surroundings.”
Ted nodded, “Okay, thanks Doc.”
“Goodnight Ted.”
Ted hung up the phone.
He looked around. He was in his office. In a chair. Everyone else went home. Except Trent. Trent was here for his book. Ted looked at Trent, he stopped Ted from hurting himself.
Trent rested a hand on Ted’s cheek, stroking a piece of Ted’s hair back in the process. Ted grabbed Trent’s wrist with both hands, nuzzling his cheek into his palm. A few tears fell off his face without permission, and he hugged Trent’s arm.
Trent got out of the kneeling position and held Ted in both arms. Ted started to sob again, and he threw his arms around Trent.
“What would’ve happened, if you didn’t find me?” Ted whispered.
“Nothing. There is not a world where I didn’t find you. There is not a world where I wouldn’t follow you into darkness, shouting your name until I saw you, and made sure you were safe and sound.”
“Can you take me home?” Ted asked. He knew it was too much.
“In my car? Sure.”
Ted stuffed his face into Trent’s chest. “Thank you.”
It took a minute for Ted to steady himself enough to walk, but he did, while still shaky, and and got into the passenger seat of Trent’s little car. “Ted?”
“Hm?”
“Do you wanna spend the night at my place?”
Ted thought a moment before he said, “Yeah.”
When they got there, Ted was greeted by a gray tabby cat circling his leg.
“Franz, give him a minute to walk through the door,” Trent shooed the cat away. “Come on, I’ll take you to the bed.”
“Show me the way, Theresa May.”
Trent smiled at that, he was starting to act like himself again. That was a good sign. “You can sleep in the guest bed.”
“Thanks a bunch,” He hugged Trent again, quickly.
He set down his bag in Trent’s guest bedroom. Then he put on a large hoodie and sweatpants that were left on the bed, and tucked himself in.
Trent went to bed himself, falling asleep quickly, only to be woken at 1:37 a.m. to the sound of sobbing. Trent got out of bed and looked into the guest bedroom. Ted had unwrapped the wound, and was staring at it, crying.
“Hey, Ted, do you wanna come sleep in my bed?”
“With you?” He seemed afraid.
“If you’d like.”
He nodded and got up, walking over to Trent’s room and laying in his bed, and his trembling stopped as Trent wrapped around him tightly.