Sunday: 12/9/07
Who: Starbuck and Nate (with a bit of Frankie thrown in) When: Sunday night Where: Starbuck's apartment What: Starbuck's hands are fucked up and he needs a doctor's help
As soon as Kim got offline, Starbuck sent an emergency text to Frankie, begging her to come over and look after Kamea for a while. He needed to get some fucking air and hit something before he lost it. He was shaking with worry. What if Kim dumped him? He quickly asked Lu about it, and in typical Lu fashion, she was supportive and encouraging, suggesting that everything would blow over and be just fine. But Starbuck had been in a position like this before, and everything wasn't fine... everything was totally and completely fucked.
He started having flash backs to one of his fights with Kat. Images raced through his mind of how within just a few hours after that fight, he had found her in bed with another guy. What if Starbuck had pissed off Kim bad enough that she did the same damn thing? He knew that Kim and Kat were nothing alike, or at least the rational part of his brain did, but his heart ached right now, and it was terrified of losing Kim for good... just like he'd lost Kat. How the hell could he make such a damn mess of his life? His parents fell in love, and that was it. They were happy together until Bardsley's death. Neither of them had loved anyone else before or after. Then there was Starbuck, the guy dumb enough to fall in love twice in one year, neither woman returning his affections. Kim didn't love him. How could she? Ed was right. Starbuck was a loser.
Finally, Frankie arrived. She immediately started asking Starbuck questions about what the hell was wrong with Kim, before she saw that Starbuck was equally upset. "What's going on?" she demanded. Starbuck didn't answer her. "Just... watch her... I have to get out of here." That was all he offered before rushing out the door. He didn't take his phone, his keys, not even his shoes. He just ran out of the apartment in his shorts and a t-shirt.
Starbuck went to the gym. He knew that violent outbursts weren't a solution to his problems, and they really didn't make him feel better even in the short term, but he needed to fucking get some of this shit out of his body. He was bubbling over. Not even bothering to wrap his hands or put on gloves, he began to wail on a punching bag. He hadn't changed at all. Even with a new woman, a completely different woman, he was still the same idiot... attacking an inanimate object because he was too upset to do anything else.
Starbuck didn't even pause when he felt the first crack. He kept hitting. Then another finger moved just as awkwardly, and a new rush of pain flooded through him. It wasn't until the third pop that he finally stopped punching and decided to kick the bag instead. His hands throbbed and began to swell rapidly, and now bruises were forming on his shins. Then he fucked up the aim of one kick and fell to the ground. It was the only thing to stop him from continuing. Unable to keep punching, and too upset to even stand, he just sat there and cried for what must have been thirty minutes.
Hearing someone entering the gym, Starbuck managed to pull himself out of his head for a moment to get up and get the fuck out. He didn't want someone asking questions, because he couldn't tell them what was wrong. He ran back to his apartment, furious with himself on so many levels, though instead of the fight with Kim being his primary focus, he was now more upset that he'd been dumb enough to break several fingers. It made it difficult to open the door, so he was forced to kick at it until Frankie answered. In his absence, she had sorta betrayed him by giving his car keys to Kim, who also refused to explain what the fuck was going on, but that wasn't of importance right now.
Frankie looked at him in horror. "What did you do?" she said, aghast. Starbuck just shook his head and walked in. He didn't want to talk about it, especially not with her. She was Kim's friend too, as well as her roommate. Frankie followed Starbuck right to the bathroom as he went in there to try and pour cold water over his hands. She looked down at the mangled mess of flesh, muscles and bone. "Ugh, you're such a fucking guy. I'm making Nathaniel come fix you. You can't take care of Kamea like that." Starbuck tried to protest, even attempting to reach for Frankie's phone as she pulled it out and started sending a text, but his hands were still fucked, so he failed. She was speedy on that stupid little keyboard! It took her all of two seconds to send a note and slip the phone back in her pocket. "Go sit your ass down on the couch, and I'm gonna get some ice." As she left his side, she was muttering about how 'moronic' men were.
Starbuck meantime did as he was told. He went to the living room and sat on the couch, thankful that Frankie had apparently put Kamea to sleep already. It wasn't long before Frankie had two bags of ice prepared and handed them to Starbuck. She was shivering almost violently, since ice and her didn't get along so well. "Thanks," Starbuck muttered, feeling bad that she put herself in pain to help him. It was a second later that there was a knock at the door.