I didn't know I was broken 'til I wanted to change
I wanna get better, better, better, better,
I wanna get better.




Week Four


He’d been gone from work for nearly a month, so he knew he was long past due to make an appearance and it needed to be for more than appearance’s sake.

The first day he went in for a few hours.

Then he went in for several.

By the middle of the week, he found himself snapping at a rather belligerent client. Instead of using his typical silver tongue antics, he lashed out at the man, who'd taken off in a heartbeat with a threat to write a bad review of their firm. He was quickly ushered to the back closet by the intern for a heart to heart talk.

He decided to take the rest of the week off and celebrated the decision with some more takeout.

The cat ended up eating most of it.



Week Five


Another day was added this week on the work schedule. They decided an “every other day” thing was better for his “mental state”.

It was scoffable. Did they really need to treat him like they were walking on eggshells around him?

Apparently so.

Monday he went to work and managed to behave himself, despite the urge to nap almost being as overwhelming as the urge to drink.

Tuesday, he slept.

Wednesday, he noticed his tie didn't sit right, which was peculiar in and of itself because both lawyers made it a point to be as well dressed as their clients expected them to be. It wasn't the tie, it turned out, but the shirt itself that sat too loosely on his shoulders. Huh. Maybe they had stretched over time, when he wasn't looking.

Thursday, he prided himself in not sleeping the day away. He only slept half of it, this time! The other half was spent decidedly deciding over the course of the afternoon that he needed more food and then promptly doing nothing about it.

Friday he went to work, only to be greeted by a gratuity basket from a client who'd won her appeal with their assistance. There was champagne and truffles and gift cards for steaks.

And there was champagne.

And there was champagne.

And there was champagne.

Steele made it to work in time to twist the bottle from his hand, ushering himself out of the building shortly thereafter to dispose of the evidence while his partner broke down and wept at his desk.




Week Six



His appetite had not returned but he ate at the insistence of his coworkers.

Three days that week, was the plan for work. He could manage three days after years of countless toiling, right? He couldn't let one bad habit kick decades of a good one - preposterous.

Tuesday would have been another sleep-in day if Kavinsky hadn't shown up. His inhale had been sharp - he hadn't called him, had he?

No, Kavinsky had come to call for a favor, redeeming one overdue. A flippant promise offered in the past to a proud man that both knew wouldn't accept it.

And yet here he was.

It was an easy case to prove. Forms were printed and filled in an hour - they went in to the hospital at ten, she was out by four. Kicking up dirt and making a scene was a specialty of his and it felt good to be back in the reins, even if he wasn't getting paid for it.

He half expected to see them both at his home to celebrate their victory.

No knock ever came, not until the friendly face of a familiar kissass showed up to deliver his Uber Eats.

Ah, well. Another day, another dolla---nevermind.

He shared his food with the cat, whose quiet judgement forced him to keep his thoughts to himself as he settled in to endure the remainder of his week.




(WC: 627)