"Thanks," Jack said sheepishly as he carefully took the tea his roommate had just made for him. He didn't need to drink, but it was comforting. "I can't seem to stop relying on you for everything, huh? I'm sorry."

At the lowest point of Jack's life, just after his revival, when he had no one, nowhere to go, and was lost in a world that had moved on for twenty years without him, his roommate had been a godsend. If he had a life now, a job he could do from home, skills with modern technology, a place to live, it was because of his roommate taking him in.

A week ago, he'd also had what he'd thought was a wonderful relationship with a beautiful, kind, understanding, compassionate woman. He'd been so, so wrong.

"I'm so stupid," he mumbled, staring down into his teacup. "I was so grateful she still loved me. I can't believe I missed the signs for so long."

Jack's relationship had been almost idyllic while his powers were gone. His girlfriend had been loving and attentive, hadn't minded his strange appearance, and had done a lot to help him adjust to his new life. Then his powers had come back, and he'd had to wear his containment suit once more. His radioactivity had returned, and he'd no longer been able to touch her.

And she'd disconnected from him. She'd stopped paying attention when he spoke, started spending all day on voice chat with an online "friend." When Jack finally began to suspect something and spoke to her, she'd snapped at him, saying it was just a friend, she wasn't cheating, that Jack was paranoid, that she wasn't a liar. When the breakup came, she'd raised her voice, called him a "two-toned clown in an ugly disaster of a suit," and left.

Now here he was, once more lost and turning to his roommate for comfort. He wiped quickly at a rogue tear, his gaze downcast. "I'm sorry. You've already done so much for me, and here I am, bothering you again. Just..." His roommate was immune to his radiation, and the only person Jack could ask for a hug. He couldn't bring himself to, though. "Nothing...sorry."