I hid my face in my hands and sunk down ton my knees in the middle of the apartment, just as Madara had done. Why? Out of all instances we could have met out and about, why did it have to be when I met him?

At the same time, I couldn't help but also be angered with Madara. Did he really have so little faith in me that he couldn't believe there was an explanation? I tried to chastise myself; Madara had been through a lot, so the amount of trust he had already shown me was formidable. But I couldn't. Not entirely. I had desired for him to at least wait for me to explain.

I would have told him as soon as he came home, anyway. Explain the situation, that his ex had seduced me and never told me he was already taken. Apologise for being so naive that I didn't understand the reason why he never invited me to his place. Yet, it had to happen like this.

I cursed the world for making this my fate, and was just about to make myself a cup of tea as if that would help, when something caught my eye. A photography magazine I got in the mail every month. I had only cast a glance, but in the corner of its cover was a photo I recognised.

And I did something I never, ever did. I spoke out loud when I was alone. 

"What the actual fuck?"

I turned the pages until I came to the double spread with my photos of Madara and his injuries from the abuse. But the worst part wasn't that his injuries were exposed. The worst part was that it wasn't my name that was on them. Not because of the stealth; I didn't give a fuck about that at this point. But because the name that was there in my place was the one of my friend the studio owner...

And his address was printed as well. 

Where are you going?

To stay with a friend.

A friend with his address visible right there in a photography magazine.

A photography magazine he probably kept his eyes on, hoping for an opportunity like this.

"Shit!" I screamed.

And I ran.

I took the car.

I had always been a slow driver. Madara used to tease me for it endlessly, but now, I drove like a madman.

I tried to calm myself down.

What are the odds, really? I thought. First of all, he might not even read the magazine. And even if he does, he might not have read it yet. And even if he has, he might not go there in search of Madara. And even if he does, Madara might not be there but with another friend. And even if he is, he would never open the door. And even if he would...

And so on. 

But when I parked my car outside the studio, all colour drained from the world as I saw his Tesla parked outside.

I screamed straight out.

I would have no memory of getting out of my car, of running through the warehouse where the studio was located, of running up the stairs and noticing the door to the studio being locked...

But I would remember the terrible sounds of violence that came from inside of it for the rest of my life.

I didn't hesitate. I broke in with such ease, having underestimated my own strength and overestimated the one of the door, I almost fell over. And the scene I came over was the worst thing I had ever seen, lightyears worse than when I had seen Madara bruised.

Madara lay on the floor, trousers down. A trail of blood was pouring along his thighs and from his mouth. His face was on the floor, eyes hazed over as if he was hardly conscious.

And over him stood his ex, my lover, on his knees, a wicked expression on his face.

He turned as he saw me. I don't know if he even had time to register who it was who had burst in through the door before I had leapt on him, wrestling him to the ground, pinning him to the wooden floor boards with a grip around his neck.

"Didn't I say?" I murmured darkly into his ear. Oh, I had never felt so dangerous. "Didn't I warn you? If you touched Madara again, I would kill you. I would kill you!!"

And I started killing him.

I would have succeeded, if it wasn't for the fact that the police broke into the studio just then, pulling me away from him and arresting him. Somewhere in the chaos, two paramedics came in and started taking care of Madara.

I was unbelievable in my anger; it was burning through my body like a forest fire, impossible to stop. It took four policemen to hold me back, and they struggled. It was as if my entire being was focussed on one thing only, and it was to kill the man who had hurt Madara.

But then, Madara coughed up blood, the first sign of life he had shown since I broke in, I snapped out of it.

"Madara", I said.

I didn't think he would hear me, but he did. He turned his eyes, still hazed over, to the side to look at me while the paramedics tended to him.

"I'm sorry", he said. "I'm so sorry."

I sunk down to my knees and wept.

The neighbouring stores had heard something was going on in the studio and called the police. Thank God for that, or I would have become a murderer. Although I had meant what I said; I would gladly go to prison for killing him if he harmed Madara again. Although if I had the choice not to go to prison...

Our friend, now ex-friend, had phoned me to apologise for stealing the pictures. He didn't know what fucking havoc his thievery had caused. When I told him, he cried. But I didn't care. The only thing that mattered to me was that Madara was safe.

He had been admitted out of hospital after a few days, and we were sitting in a bench in a park, a polite distance from one another. I hadn't been allowed to visit him in hospital due to a measles epidemic, and we had said nothing but hello when we met after his disposal, and hugged each other slightly awkwardly. After that, it had only been politeness. Now, we had been quiet for so long, it felt strange to start talking. Yet, I had to try. 

"I know that in all of this mess, it might be a trivial thing", I began. "But you know I didn't know, right? About you and... I didn't know he had someone else when I met him. And I certainly didn't know it was you."

Madara turned to look at me, his face earnest. He looked so familiar then, it hurt. I would lie if I said I didn't want him. I wanted him as badly as I ever had. Even more, perhaps. 

"I know", Madara said kindly and took my hand. "It's not a trivial thing."

"I know you're the victim who suffered the most in this. I know I should have told you before I went to see him, and not wait until afterwards. But you leaving without giving me the chance to explain really hurt me."

Madara looked away, his lower lip trembling.

"I'm so sorry", he said.

I realised it hurt him badly to know he had hurt me.

"I know I hurt you l, too", I said. 

"But you didn't!" he exclaimed, to my surprise. "You didn't know! And as soon as you found out, you saw him to make sure I was safe! If I had only shut my mouth for thirty seconds, I would have known your intentions." I couldn't say anything smart in response, so I did what any good man would do; I kept my mouth shut. "And even if I suffered the most, which does not have to be true, what does it matter? If it's about who suffers more than the other, only one person in the world is allowed suffering as everyone else is suffering less. You were a victim to him just as I was."

We sat quietly again.

"What happens now?" I finally asked.

"I need time", Madara said. "On my own. To heal from all of this. I don't regret any moment with you, but I realise that I need to be alone to learn how to trust again. I will contact you."

"Will you... want to continue our relationship?" I asked carefully.

Madara sighed.

"I don't know, Hashirama. I really don't know. Please. Just give me time."

I promised him time, trying to pretend that my heart wasn't bleeding.