John McAllister [6:21pm]: do any of you want to go to that dive bar that's in Lincoln Park? Reese and I want to check it out at like 9.

Kento Okawa [6:23pm]: tonight?

John McAllister [6:23pm]: no, next year.

Kento Okawa [6:23pm]: okay dickhead
Kento Okawa [6:23pm]: i want to go

Wallace Beaumont [6:24pm]: is it that one that's next to that rolled ice cream place?

John McAllister [6:24pm]: yeah

Wallace Beaumont [6:24pm]: i'm down

Harper Phillips [6:24pm]: yes! I want to do the things!

Zelda Spriet [6:25pm]: I'm DD for John and Reese so I can drive two more people if anyone wants to really drink.

Harper Phillips [6:25pm]: I'll ride with you bc I want to hold Reese's hand

Reese van Doren [6:26pm]: Aw

Will Morrison [6:26pm]: no couple shit in the group chat

Harper Phillips [6:27pm]: do I need to pull up the chat log of the stuff you and Ken have said to each other?

Will Morrison [6:27pm]: ANYWAY I'll be there

Gideon Elsher [7:09pm]: I can be there around 10. I'm at work.

I'm ecstatic to see Gideon reply in the chat. He's been MIA for days and only responding when absolutely necessary. The fact that he's even coming out with us tells me that whatever cloud he's had over him is lifting. I can't judge him, I get wanting to hide yourself away when you're in a funk, but he'd promised he'd try to rely on us more.

Overnight changes aren't realistic, I guess.

Kento did say it took Gideon how long to realize that his previous methods of self-destruction were slowly killing him.

The crisp and damp spring weather is back, yo-yoing us between what might be the bitter grip of winter and day's that remind me of the impending summer. Today it's too cold to forgo a coat. I toss on my ancient men's black leather coat and pull my dark locks into a loose messy ponytail before I head out the door to meet the others at The Emerald Pint.

Smushed between a rolled ice cream shop and a records store, The Emerald Pint is a classic dive bar in the otherwise more modernized strip of street in Lincoln Park. I manage to snag some street parking and head up the block towards the neon sign of a simple green pint glass that burns brightly; it's the only indicator of the bar's location. I show my ID to the bouncer at the door while I peek in through the dimly lit windows to a pretty crowded room and the sounds of a live band setting up.

Harper's easy to spot with her bright blonde hair sticking out in the warm yellow atmosphere. I squeeze past large groups near the tables and the bar to the back of the place a bit more secluded by a pool table and a massive and enticing popcorn machine.

"Wallace!" comes Reese's easy greet when I finally reach them. I wave with both hands.

"Yay! You're here!" Zelda waves from her seat in the farthest corner. "We've got a tab started already. Just tell them my name and send me money later."

"This place is nice," I say when I slide into one of the dark oak chairs that round the table.

"Nice, but busier than I expected," John says over the rim of his beer.

It's not terrible. The ambience is pleasant and although the hum of voices and the clattering of glasses is loud, it's not nearly imposing enough that we can't have comfortable conversation. Though I'm sure that may change once the band starts playing. From the looks of it, they might be an Irish band.

"So, how've you been?" Reese asks once I've gotten myself a beer and settled in comfortable with the group. He's giving major golden retriever vibes with his messy dark blond hair, yellow argyle sweater vest and short sleeve shirt, and his easy smile.

"I've been okay," I tell him after a sip. "Things are going good."

Harper shoots me a knowing look.

"I hear you're going on a date," John adds. He's yet to take off his denim jacket and has an unknown sports baseball cap backwards on his head.

I do my best to hide the instinctual expression that wants to cross my face about that particular topic. Zelda had passed my number along to David several days ago and we set up a date to go out not long after. I'd wanted to throw my phone through every moment of it but the memory of "Take a risk! Take of risk!" prevented me from doing so. I'm also not surprised John knows about it. Couples talk to each other about that sort of stuff all time, or so I'm told.

"Yes, yes," I try to play it off as if it's an everyday occurrence. "Next weekend."

"A date?" Reese looks flabbergasted. Harper must not have told him. "With Gideon?"

John cranes his head around Zelda to see Reese better. "Gideon? Why would it be with Gideon?"

"Uh – hello? Have you seen the way those two orbit each other?" Reese gestures wildly.

"What? No, it's not with Gideon," I say to quickly end that talk. "It's with Zelda's coworker David."

Reese deflates. "Oh."

"Where are you guys going?" Harper asks, propping up her chin with her dainty and manicured hand.

"Uh," I trial off, trying to remember the place that David sent me the other day. It had been the same day I'd been sending X-Files memes to Gideon. "Francesca's? That Italian place?"

"Oh! They have great food."

Reese swallows his beer in a rush. "Yeah, I took Harp there a while back. Super nice. Good wine."

Kento and Will have the decency to arrive now and distract the group from the conversation about my dinner date with David. I want to have a good time on the date. Truly. But talking about it makes me want to cancel, so I figure the less I discuss it the more ready I'll be.

Logic.

"Hey!" Will loudly shouts and causes a few heads to turn, but it does nothing to lessen his passion. He wraps us in hugs as he passes by to take a seat against the wall next to John. He's not wearing a jacket, just a navy hoodie, and considering the chill today I wonder if he regrets it.

"You all want another round before I sit?" Kento asks. His shaggy black hair is free from a beanie for once tonight and he's got the brains to still be wearing a coat.

The table chorus's a yes and it's not long before another round of beer decorates the table and we fall into an easy rhythm of laughter, popcorn eating, and drinking games. The band starts playing about thirty minutes into our stay at the bar and I'm right – it is an Irish band. They've got a fiddle, guitar, drums, and even some pipes from what I can see and hear in our far corner. They're good and the music has a few people playfully dancing where they can fit amongst the crowd.

"Oh, look who's finally here!" Will points during an intense game of Would You Rather.

Gideon's strolling towards us with a less easy-going expression than I'd hope for but still an improvement from the radio silence of the past several days. He's got on a chocolate brown undone button up over a stretched white tee and beige slacks. Although the smile doesn't reach his eyes right away, he points back at Will with equal enthusiasm before twisting his wrist and flicking him off instead. The action does nothing but put an even bigger grin on Will's face.

What's up?" Gideon greets us.

He pats Reese's shoulder before sliding into the empty chair next to me and planting a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"The fuck?" Will gasps. "Where's mine? Why don't you kiss me?"

"Kento would cut my dick off if I kissed you," Gideon clarifies and Kento nods, unashamed.

The kiss is the first display of the arrangement that Gideon and I have in front of our friends. Of course the girls know – and Kento knows now too – but it feels more weird that they can see evidence of it versus me feeling weird about the kiss itself.

I don't know if I just don't want that part of my life on display or if I'm more worried that our friends are going to misread it.

And rightly so.

I don't kiss Harper or any of the others. And I'm certain Gideon doesn't kiss them either.

But I also can't picture myself having sex with any of them but Gideon, so there's that.

The band takes a quick break just after Gideon arrives and that allows us to chatter amongst ourselves a bit easier. We clink our glasses together after the waitress brings another pitcher with a cheer. I busy myself with the salty popcorn – thankfully free popcorn – and watch everyone with a swelling heart. Just last year I'd been holing myself up in my apartment, really only seeing Harper when I had the time. I've never had a group of friends like this. Never had something this...

Easy.

Harper meets my eyes from across the table and she tilts her head to me in question and I nod to reassure her that I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I think this is the happiest I've been in a long time.

Now just to make sure Gideon is okay too.

I tap him with my foot and he leans his head down towards me, pierced brow curved in question.

"You alright?" I ask in a more hushed tone.

"I'm fine, why?" he replies nonchalantly.

I purse my lips. "Gideon."

"What?"

"You can't fool me. I'm also a chronic avoider." I twist in my chair and try to give him a teasing air as I put on a light smile. To tell him that it's okay and safe. It's what I would want. Talking to Gideon sometimes reminds me of myself, versus Harper who is a chronic oversharer.

He raps a knuckle on my forehead. "I'm fine," he stresses. "Could I be better? Sure. But I'm here. I get to see you."

"Could've seen me before," I pout.

He laughs and a bit of warmth returns to his expression. Not the mask he's clearly putting on to not worry us.

"In my defense, I was working this whole time." I open my mouth, but he cuts me off. "But you're right. I was isolating myself after what happened. I felt bad for dragging you into it. I didn't want to make it worse."

"I literally told you I want to be bothered with your problems."

"I know," he smiles sweetly. "I'm trying to do better. I'm here."

"That you are. I missed your annoying face. We're so behind on shows. And I've had to eat all my leftovers alone."

"Woe is me," he says dramatically.

"Seriously," I say as I sip from my beer.

He leans back in the chair and it creaks underneath the strain, having seen countless people over the years to the exact same motion. His bangs are messy and escaping from his bun any way they can today. They're almost long enough to be tucked behind his ears.

"I wasn't avoiding you guys because I don't trust you with my well of emotions," he says. "The guys have already seen me at my worst. It's just – Ben is like a pest. A roach. You see him once and he's bound to keep coming out of the woodwork. He likes to stick around and wear me down. I was more so trying to avoid seeing him...I think."

"And if we do see him, he knows I'm not to be trifled with." I give him my best faux one two punch.

Gideon tosses his head back into a laugh before tapping his beer against mine. "Mm, I forgot."

I let myself fully relax, resting an elbow on the table and my head on the heel of my palm as I remain twisted in Gideon's direction at the table, finally convinced that he's doing alright for now. He reaches forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear with a bit of a mischievous sparkle in those green eyes.

"Someone is affectionate today," I comment.

"Maybe I missed you too." He gives me a toothy grin. "Unless the affection is too much. I can cut back."

I don't answer him right away. I simply stare at him as my mind runs in a million different directions. There's no butterflies as Gideon idly traces his fingers against mine that rest in my lap. No overwhelming feeling of anything really. Just warmth and comfort.

Is this what it means to like someone?

Or is it truly the panic attack sounding symptoms that everyone talks about? It's not like I think about Gideon every moment of every day. I mean, at first I did, but that was simply because I was a horny mess after that first interaction. But – I don't think about him any more than I do my other friends. I don't imagine things between us in my head or get nervous when I know he's going to be places.

He's just Gideon.

"You okay?" His fingers stop and he leans forward a bit with his brows drawn together.

"Yeah," I breathe and then shake my head. "Yeah, no it's fine. I was just thinking about how I don't actually mind. And then my brain was working too hard trying to figure out why I don't mind."

He snorts. "It can be as simple as you just like physical affection. Doesn't have to be more than it is unless you want it to be."

"I know that," I sigh. "I just think I overthink because I don't want other people to make it into something else."

"You worry too much about what others think, Wal. It's not like what they think will change anything. Only you can decide what something means."

"Is that so?"

I lean forward and, pushing the thoughts of everyone's opinions out of my brain, press a chaste kiss to his lips. His eyebrows shoot up and the corners of his mouth turn downward a little.

"And what was the meaning behind that?"

"It feels nice, and your face is kissable."

"Thank you. I've been told that I'm exceedingly handsome and that—"

I shove a hand in his face and twist back in my chair to face the group. Thankfully, they're mostly absorbed in their own self-imposed chaos.

When the music kicks back up again, Gideon downs the remaining frothy bits of his beer while he stands from his chair before grabbing my hands and pulling me up with him. Reese does a little cheer when he realizes just before I do that Gideon's dragging me up to dance.

To dance.

"Oh, no," I laugh, tugging against his grip.

"Oh, yes."

"Gideon I can't dance!"

"You think I can?"

He slides his fingers through mine and drags us to an empty spot near one of the pool tables. Before I know it, I'm twisting around, spinning, and doubling over with laughter while I trip over my feet. Gideon's got one arm wrapped comfortably around my waist while the other one holds up our joined hands and sashays us around. Up his arm goes and I twist under it before facing him again with a cheek splitting grin. He keeps up with the bouncing and jovial tune, but his long limbs make for less than graceful movements. Not that he seems to mind in the slightest. The sunny grin on his face is the brightest I've seen.

Kento and Will join our shenanigans; Will pretends to play the fiddle with one of the spare shorter pool sticks and Kento turns my dance with Gideon into a threesome, jumping up and down with us in some poor attempt at an Irish jig.

I'm breathless from dancing and laughter by the time I stumble back to the table to finish off my drink and refill it with water. Gideon is entangled with the boys, dancing and wrestling with them in a display of drunken affection.

Zelda hums like she wants to say something as she swallows a mouthful of popcorn before leaning towards me. "I've been meaning to ask you, Wal. We're thinking of doing a beach day once they open. You in?"

I nod. "I'd love to."

She grins. "Summer in the city is just—" She kisses her fingers and the air like a chef. "It's the reason I moved to Chicago. We might go Memorial Day weekend and brave the crowds. It's tradition for us. You're obviously family now so ya have to come."

"I haven't done a beach trip for years. It'll be fun."

When the song dies down and is replaced with one of a different tempo the boys collapse into their respective chairs. Gideon flings an arm around the back of mine and opens his mouth for some popcorn that I'm currently eating from my palm. I toss a piece in, and he chews it gratefully before giving me a crooked grin.

I turn my head to gaze around the bar, to people watch essentially, and my blood goes cold the moment my eyes land on the front door.

Fucking Ben Elsher.

Sorry.

Dr. Ben Elsher.

He's walking in with a twisted laugh on his face and an arm slung over the shoulder of some other guy that I don't recognize. It's almost as if he's moving in slow motion and the blood rushes to my ears as I watch him maneuver his way through the packed crowd at the front.

I try to stifle the obvious panic that overcomes me and make myself small, almost like if Ben doesn't notice me he won't see the rest of us back here.

He won't see Gideon.

And I won't have to punch him again and get us kicked out.

Ben stumbles through the crowd finally and manages to reach the bar to order some drinks for him and his friends. Judging by the flat look the bartender is giving him and the pinched expression on Ben's face, he's just obnoxious by default. He snaps at a few of the patrons standing near him before taking the drinks to distribute to his friends and starts heading back towards the pool tables.

Towards us.

I know there's no avoiding him now. No way to prevent this asshole from seeing us and the last thing I want is for Gideon to be caught off guard. The night was going so well and he was finally feeling comfortable being out and about. And yet, Gideon was right.

Ben is like a roach.

I tug on his sleeve and Gideon turns to me with a buzzed expression, but it twists into worry when he sees the look on my face.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Ben's here," I say into his ear.

He stiffens immediately and when he turns to look around it just happens to be the same moment Ben finally notices our group nestled into the back corner. His drunken grin fades into a sneer when he locks eyes with Gideon. Almost like a sort of Cain instinct that sets in whenever he notices his brother and that he must make his life a living hell.

"Well, Gideon, fancy seeing you here," Ben's slimy voice cracks over the music.

His approach alerts the rest of the group and their welcoming attitude diminishes like a blown out candle the moment they see the vicious look on Gideon's face.

"It's not on purpose, I promise you," Gideon says through clenched teeth. He's poised, ready to defend himself like a poor caged animal.

"And I see you're still around," Ben directs his attention towards me.

I give him a sneer.

"Must be lonely letting him lead you on. I don't think Gideon has the capacity for love."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Woodrow Wilson lookin' ass?" Will says venomously from his spot at the table before I can.

Reese chokes on his beer at Will's comment.

"Who am I?" Ben grips his beer and has the audacity to look genuinely offended. "I'm Gideon's brother, not that you'd know that since he hasn't put in a smidge of effort with his family for fifteen years."

Gideon's hand tightens around the sweating glass of beer in front of him, almost like the action is the only thing stopping him from complexly exploding. And knowing now what Kento told me, Gideon's come far from who he used to be. I'm not about to let Ben bait him backwards.

"Ah." It's Zelda who speaks up this time, her accent really leaking through. "So, you're the dick."

Ben gives a baffled laugh and tosses a look of disbelief at his two friends over his shoulder as if they are just as invested in this confrontation as he is. Judging by the stilted laughter and half smiles – they're not.

"How has it gotten construed that I'm the dick. Have you met Gideon?"

"Gideon isn't the grown ass man approaching people in the bar to – what? Argue?" I snap.

Ben gestures with his beer indistinctly and the more I look at him, the more obvious it is that this isn't the first bar of the night.

"Hey, I'm just here to warn you." He looks pointedly at me like "I can't believe you're really still with him" sort of look. "My brother is a shit dude who couldn't care less about any of you. Just saving you the heartbreak down the road."

"For fuck's sake," I hear Gideon mutter under his breath. He starts to scoot his chair back, probably to flee (or maybe fight, honestly), but I press a hand down on his thigh to keep him rooted in place.

"Do your patients know that you're a grimy piece of shit or is this just your weekend face?" I scoff. "You don't know Gideon at all. Said it yourself actually. Fifteen years, was it?"

"He's my brother. I think I know him well enough regardless."

"Do you?" Harper pipes up. "If you knew anything about him, you'd know he's the best of us here. Maybe you're projecting? You should talk to someone about that."

Ben's coarse looking beard does nothing to hide the angry frown that settles on his mouth.

"You wouldn't know a decent person if they bit you in the ass," Will spits. The anger that is flaming on his face is so uncharacteristic of him. "What kind of grown ass man starts an argument in a bar. Aren't we passed this age? What're you? Fifty-two?"

"Please, he's all charming at first but you'll all be second best when it comes to his little dead pet projects. That's all that he cares about."

"The fuck are you even talking about, dude?" Kento says sharply. He looks poised, ready to jump out of his chair at any moment.

A dark chuckle comes from Gideon, who's face is hidden in his hand, before he looks up at his brother almost exhausted and energized all at the same time.

"Are you for real?" he asks him. "Fifteen years and you still can't let this go?"

"Because you can't move on. You substitute your relationships with living people to fuss over the dead as if it's going to change anything. I say these things to help you, Gideon. When's the last time you had a real girlfriend? Not just some girl you'd fuck on the weekends until she realized you didn't love her?"

Thankfully the chatter in the dive bar is loud and the live music in the front drowns out most of the rising yells happening in the back corner here. The rest of us sit in almost disbelief as the argument between Gideon and Ben starts to unfold.

"The fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with everything. You're thirty-something years old. You should be focusing on your future, getting married, having kids. Not wasting time with rotting bodies because you can't let go of the past."

"I don't see a ring on your finger," I hear Zelda mutter.

Gideon leans forward in his seat, pointing a finger at himself with his mouth hanging open slightly, eyes wide with adrenaline. "I'm the one who can't let go of the past? Who's the one harassing me every time he sees me in public? I've long since come to terms with what happened. My job has nothing to do with it."

"Jesus, Gideon. If you maybe went to therapy you'd realize it! Kids don't decide at fifteen to become embalmers. They grieve and hopefully move on! It's like you're subjecting yourself to her death over and over."

"That's why you think I do this job?" Gideon can't help but laugh. "Christ, if you ever thought to ask me, then maybe we wouldn't be here. But no – you don't fucking ask, do you? You do whatever you want to do regardless of how it'll affect anyone else."

I can feel Gideon bouncing his leg next to mine under the table. Reaching over again, I wrap my hand gently around his knee to still him and while it does the intended task, there is no release of the tension in his body from my touch. He looks coiled and ready to snap at any moment.

"What are you talking about?" Ben snaps.

"What am I—' Gideon mutters before settling a dangerous look on Ben. "You didn't have to identify her body, Ben. I did because you and dad weren't around. And then you come waltzing back into my life and completely disregard her wishes and cremated her because you couldn't be bothered."

"Dad and I thought it would be best. The last thing you needed was to see her on display, Gideon. Haven't you figured that out?"

"That's exactly what I needed!" Gideon slams a fist onto the table, rattling the half empty glasses scattered about. "I needed to see her the way she used to be after having to identify her. I needed to be able to say goodbye. To get that closure. And you took it from me. And you still keep her from me. I haven't seen even a pinch of her ashes, let alone a fucking urn."

Ben starts to open his mouth, to defend himself probably judging by the twisted look on his face, but Gideon keeps going.

"I didn't choose my job because of some fucked up style of grief. I chose it because the only person who showed me any ounce of compassion was the funeral director. And the last thing I want is for other people to go through what I did. I don't do it because I have some morbid fascination with dead people," Gideon all but spits at him. "I do it because my work brings comfort to people. But you wouldn't know that since you had your mind made up about me years ago."

"You think I've been withholding mom from you?" Ben asks.

"Are you not?"

Ben has nothing to say, and the two brothers merely glare at each other in silence while the rest of us awkwardly fidget in our chairs unsure of what to do or say.

Gideon's face morphs from bottled up rage to an almost insecure look at the rest of us when he realizes what just happened. That that just blew up right in front of all of us. Almost as if he's embarrassed to have let us see that part of him.

"Is that all, Uncle Sam? Or do you have more lives to damage?" Will cuts through the silence.

"Sounds like you're the piece of shit brother," Reese scoffs.

"I suggest you and your pals turn around and take your asses out of the bar," comes John's level voice.

"Yeah," Will says in a taunting tone and juts a thumb at John. "He's killed a man. Don't get on his bad side."

Gideon's posture returns to being slumped in his chair, staring angrily at the amber liquid in his glass. The rest of us offer nothing short of scathing looks at Ben who, either because he truly feels an ounce of remorse or because he is too intimidated, turns and tosses his empty beer at the bar and leaves his friends to close out his tab when he stumbles out onto the street.

No one speaks for a moment.

And then, in an effort to hopefully let Gideon know that everything is okay and that he doesn't need to be ashamed for letting us see him, I say, "John, did you really kill someone?"

Will bursts out into laughter, nearly doubling over at the table, while John rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"No, I haven't."

"I'd believe it though. That look you had on your face," Kento chuckles.

"Guy was a dick."

"A real dick," Harper adds. "You weren't kidding, Wal. He deserved that punch."

"Wait, you punched him?" Reese asks.

"Yeah," I admit. "Wish I did it again, honestly."

Gideon's eyes trail over all of us at the table with his mouth twisted down and brows furrowed while we chuckle at the absolute absurdity that is Dr. Ben Elsher.

"Wait, you guys—" Gideon says in confusion. "You aren't upset that I just put a damper on our night?"

"You didn't do anything dude," Reese says. "Your brother is a dick. And I'm sorry you've been dealing with this still. I knew it was bad but—not still like that."

"Seriously," Kento reaches behind me to slap Gideon's shoulder. "We've seen you way worse than that. Feel free to toss your baggage on us sometimes."

"Right? I mean, holding your mom's ashes hostage? That's insane to cope with alone for all this time," Zelda says.

"You're our friend," I say softly, tugging his leg closer to me. "Rely on us more, remember?"

Gideon gives a sort of mesmerized glance at everyone around the table before pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes with a weak chuckle.

"Oh, Gideon..." Harper signs when it's clear the shaking of his shoulder isn't from laughing at all.

He waves a hand in front of him. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"No, dude, you're clearly not," Kento replies.

"Okay. I will be fine," Gideon offers as he grabs some napkins that Harper offers him.

It's clear everyone around the table still wants to discuss what happened. Why hadn't Gideon brought this up to any of them. Why hadn't he confided in them how bad his brother's harassment truly is? About his mom's ashes? Is he talking to anyone about this? Does he need to go home?

But Gideon clearly doesn't want to bring down the mood any more than Ben already has and fends off any questions or concerns with weak replies and assurances before ordering a final pitcher of beer for the table. And everyone lets it happen because it's clear that's what Gideon wants right now.

When he slides up from the table to go have a cigarette, I take that opportunity to pull on my coat and follow him out into the crisp misty night. I find him leaning up against the ivy-covered brick wall, puffing away with a hunch in his shoulders.

He tosses me a sidelong look but doesn't' say anything as I lean on my side on the wall next to him.

"You good?" I broach.

"No," he admits quietly, flicking of the glowing orange ashes off the end of his cigarette.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so."

I press my lips together and lean forward to rest my forehead on his arm, hoping at least my general proximity will bring him some comfort.

"Have you ever thought about...talking to someone about your issues with Ben?" I tentatively offer.

"Sometimes. It's not like it'll stop him from harassing me if he sees me, though."

"No, but it may help what's up here." I reach up and tap his temple.

"Maybe..." He sighs and closes his eyes, taking another drag off his cigarette before tossing it down to the sidewalk and putting it out with the tip of his shoe. His tone makes it clear he's not ready to discuss the topic of therapy, so I don't push it more than that.

"It's just – sometimes I forget that I have all of you. I remember how cruel I can be and how I used to be around Reese and Kento and I don't want to be like that again. But, having you guys these past couple of times...it's helped. Even if I cried after," he says with a weak grin. "I hate that about myself."

"That you cried?"

"That I feel like I need you guys. That I want to need you guys. It makes me feel, I don't know, humiliated? That I can't handle it on my own. That I'm a burden."

I move to stand in front of him, only inches of space between us as I grasp at his hands and lean in with a furrow to my brows.

"Gideon. That's what friends are for. As someone who's been alone for much of my twenties aside from Harper, let me tell you – it's okay to want things from your friends like support. That's why we have them. We're not just here to experience the good times. We're here for the bad times too."

He gives a shaky sigh and presses his forehead to mine, grabbing my hips and maneuvering me closer between his legs.

"Like you told me before, you always want to give your friends good things. To have them be happy and live good lives."

"Yeah," he says.

"Part of that isn't having fun all the time. It's working through the bad times too. Let us do that for you. We want the same thing for you. It's not your job to take care of us. When you make it a job, you're not taking care of yourself. Don't feel bad about needing us."

"Okay," he says weakly.

I reach up and grab his chin between my fingers, giving him as stern of a look as I can muster up.

"I'm serious, Gideon. Next time this happens, don't bottle it up. Don't throw yourself into work or make excuses not to see us until your mood improves. Or I'll...I don't know – send Will to your house to torment you or something."

His green eyes meet my brown ones with the first glimmer of amusement since before Ben's arrival. They're red and a bit puffy but his mood is improving judging by the expression threatening to overtake his face.

Warm hands that still smell like his cigarette snake up to grasp my cheeks and he leans down to press a soft kiss to my lips.

Recalling our previous conversation, I say, "What was that for?"

"Nothing, really. I just like kissing you. Seemed like a good moment to do it."

I glare playfully at him before giving him another quick chaste kiss and stepping out of his space towards the pub door.

"Should we go back inside. Enjoy that pitcher of beer you just added to Zelda's tab?"

He snorts and extends a hand.

"After you."