I called the restaurant when I knew the dinner rush was on. That way, Errol would know I was alright, but I wouldn't need to talk to him. I also pressed on that I didn't need him to come over and check on me to Alexandra, who was the one that answered.

On Monday when I returned home after class, I had a message waiting for me from Errol asking me to call. I ignored it.

All I really wanted was to call him back. To run back to his apartment. To experience the peace and safety of night again.

But day was there. Reality was pressing. I couldn't deny it. And reality was screaming at me that he didn't belong to me, that our relationship would never be what I wanted, that I had to grow up and let go of parts of him. I couldn't depend on him like I had as a child. I couldn't cling to him and steal his attention. I couldn't want him to have eyes on only me.

And in a way, wouldn't it be better for our friendship if those things weren't the case? Our friendship had ended because he loved me in a romantic way, so wasn't it a good thing he had Cameron now? That he had someone to feel those things for instead of me? That way, we could be friends and only friends. And everything would stay safe, normal, familiar.

So a bit of distance from Errol was good. I was definitely not simply avoiding him when I didn't call him back.

On Tuesdays, we had lectures about storytelling. That day it was on narrators, or more precisely on unreliable narrators. It was an interesting topic. But I found it very hard to concentrate on any of it. My mind strayed to Errol over and over, wondering what he was up to. Very likely he was at work, and since it was afternoon, they'd be prepping for the dinner guests. I hadn't eaten any of his cooking again since the evening I first dared set my foot inside the restaurant, but I missed it. His food always filled me in ways other food didn't.

"One unreliable narrator who might be hard to spot is Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby." That sentence said by the lecturer caught my attention simply because of how I had compared my own situation with Gatsby and Daisy just the other day. But as quickly as the lecturer caught my attention, it slipped.

Errol was quite similar to Nick Carraway in a lot of ways. Observant. Watching in the background, but always there, seeing everything. Even things about me I didn't notice myself. The one remaining by me, just like how Nick Carraway stayed with Gatsby.

But he was slipping away from me. Or maybe it was more that I was pushing him away. It was just... I was petrified. But I wasn't even sure exactly what it was that scared me.

Or I refused to acknowledge what it was. Somehow it felt too big, too different from what I knew, too unfamiliar. So I refused to acknowledge it.

Even when my thoughts strayed to the shape of his lips. Even when I remembered how his skin had felt against mine. Even when I turned bitter thinking about him being with Cameron.

I wasn't gay, after all.

Being gay meant being called a faggot, a cocksucker, a sissy. Being gay meant risking being beaten up if you slipped and showed affection when you shouldn't. Being gay meant breaking the law.

So I wasn't. I couldn't be.

I still wanted to run to Errol as soon as we were let out of the lesson. Still wanted to watch as he cooked for me. Then eat together. Maybe watch something. And then fall asleep next to him.

But I couldn't do any of that with him.

So I decided to avoid him.

If he were to show up, though, I knew I would trail after him, like a dog after its owner.

But Errol wasn't the one who showed up as I stepped out of the university building.

I felt his eyes on me the moment I got outside, and by the time I had noticed his physical presence as well, he was already walking towards me. I stopped in my tracks, waited for him to come to me.

"We gotta talk," Cameron said, and then turned, expecting me to follow. A part of me wanted to scoff and walk in the other direction. But a few different things made me follow. Worry Errol might be in trouble. Curiosity about what Cameron could possibly have to say to me. A hope he'd tell me something which made it either easier or harder to stay away from Errol. I wasn't sure which of those two I hoped for most, though.

He walked with me a few steps behind him until we reached a bit of a secluded spot between two buildings. Cameron looked around us, made sure no one was near, before he rounded on me.

"Errol is too good of a person to say this to ye himself, so I'm gonna," Cameron started. "Ye gotta get out of his life."

A car drove somewhere. A few students in the distance laughed. A dog barked.

My heart stood still.

"What?" I asked, even though my unbeating heart had heard exactly what he had said.

"Ye gotta get out of his life."

It was what I had been thinking myself. Errol was better off without me. I didn't deserve him. I only dragged him down.

But hearing Cameron say it hit me differently. Made it more final.

"Why?"

Cameron scoffed. "Ye're really stupidly oblivious."

I flinched. How many times had I heard people call me oblivious? Enough times it had stopped hurting. The words rolled off me. But not this time.

This time it was a longsword going straight through my whole body. Leaving me open and wounded.

"He was so bloody broken when we first met," Cameron went on. "Functionin' outwardly cos that's what he does, but actin' in so many destructive ways. An' he was finally doin' better, he had finally got over ye, an' then ye showed up again. He's claimin' all is fine, that he's fine with bein' just yer friend, but it's destroyin' him all over! Ye're so bloody blind for not seein' it. Bet it's nice livin' life bein' completely oblivious to all the pain ye're causin'."

Confirmed. Everything was confirmed in absolute terms. I was causing Errol pain. I was destroying him. I was tearing apart the person I cared the most about. My mere existence in his life hurt him.

Errol was a clear, still loch in my life. Healing water when I needed. A soothing place to rest by when I wanted. Water to hide in when I was too scared to meet the day.

But I was a storming ocean in his. Raging water which tore, and all he could do was keep going and hoping the storm wouldn't hurt him too badly, wouldn't end up killing him.

"If ye care about him at all, ye'll leave him be," Cameron finished.

And he was right. I really should do that. I couldn't be what Errol wanted me to be. But... Errol had told me he had been happy I had contacted him again. That he had missed me. He had told me we would always be friends. And we had shared so much of our lives together. Happiness and sadness.

Our friendship wasn't just about me dragging him down. Sure, he had been there for me through thick and thin. Had dried my tears away. Soothed me when I had been upset. Carried my worry for me when it had been too much for me. But I had also always celebrated every triumph in my life with him, big and small.

And I had done the same for him. I had been there when he had needed to complain about his parents' strictness and detachment. Had been the first one to try any new recipe he had cooked. Had sat with him during church and then afterwards we had together complained about the whole ordeal. And at times, when I had noticed he had been in a bad mood but been unable to figure out why, I had acted like a child towards him because I knew it would make him smile.

We had been through so much together. More than anyone could understand, and certainly not Cameron.

"Who are ye to speak for Errol like this?" I asked, feeling anger replacing my doubts and insecurities. "If Errol feels like this, then he can tell me himself. He has once before, so it's not like he wouldn't if he does."

Though that moment was one I didn't want to think about. The last time I had seen Errol before the Second Incident. The night of Flora's twenty-fourth birthday. The night when Errol had told me we couldn't be friends.

A memory which caused my anger to slowly become a shadow next to my spiralling guilt.

"Who am I? His boyfriend is who I am," Cameron scoffed.

I kept my anger on my face, but really my mind was in chaos again. Another thing confirmed. Another thing Errol had neglected to tell me. A solid proof I wasn't as a part of Errol's life as I wanted to be.

In spite, I wanted to tell Cameron about the other night. Wanted to prove to him he didn't know his boyfriend as well as he thought by telling him about how Errol had held me while I had fallen asleep. But it would only give me a moment's satisfaction while potentially landing Errol in a lot of trouble with Cameron, so I held my words back.

"An' I'm tellin' ye this now, so he won't fall as far down again as before," Cameron continued. "Ye're not contributin' anythin' other than misery to his life, so stop tryin' to assert yerself into it. Just leave him be. Get some other bloody friends an' some pretty girlfriend to occupy yer time with. Ye'll abandon him for some lassie in the end anyway, just like ye did before. So ye might as well do it now."

Cameron didn't wait for me to answer. He just walked off to leave me there on the street feeling angry, though deep down mainly feeling resigned. He had been right, after all. Not completely. I had contributed with good things. But not as much as Errol had done for me. I had always asked for help with different things again and again, and Errol had always helped, had always been there. He had even done that when I hadn't even asked for it. But he never asked for anything in return.

The small amount of good I had done him certainly wasn't enough to even begin to make up for the pain I had caused him over the years.

I was a mess, and not in any possible way worthy of him.