Everything was back to normal between me and Errol again. Or at least some type of normal. We hung out when we could. Talked about everyday mundane things. It was all good. At least on the surface.

There was the tension between us that I didn't want to name. And the tension was growing. It made me stop myself from taking hold of his hand. Made me move away and grumble every time he tried to ruffle my hair. Made me avoid physical contact with him because it felt like any would break the tension open and something irreversible would happen.

There were times when I couldn't stop the impulses. When I would hug him upon seeing him. Or he would brush some hair out of my face. And all those small touches, they build the unnamed tension. At times it made it hard to breathe. At other times, I craved more of it.

Like a cake when you are already full.

I had stopped by the restaurant at one point. Cameron had glared at me.

"I told him off," Errol had answered me when I had asked about it. "I told him it wasn't his place to meddle between us like that. He's not very happy with me either at the moment."

I was both happy and unhappy about that because Cameron had been right about parts of what he had said, even if Errol refused to admit to it. Our friendship could potentially lead to more pain for him. Though Errol had claimed he didn't have any other feelings than friendship feelings for me, those other feelings could always come back. And if they did, then we'd be in the same situation we had been in during the Second Incident.

That would be the absolute worst thing which could happen.

It was Saturday, and we were at the gay pub again. Errol had been extremely hesitant about bringing me back there, but I had worn him down.

As we stepped inside, my eyes swept over the crowd. They were on the hunt.

On the hunt for someone Errol could date.

The idea tasted worse than cigarettes in my mouth. But it was an idea I firmly thought was for the best.

If Errol fell in love with someone else, then we wouldn't risk the Second Incident happening again.

It wasn't quite as crowded as the last time we had been there, so we managed to get seats at a table.

"What's yer type, by the way?" I asked between two sips of beer. I made sure to keep my voice casual.

"What type?" Errol echoed and creased his eyebrows somewhat.

"Aye. Like what type of men do ye like?"

Errol's eyes travelled over my face as if drinking in my features. They landed on my lips, stayed there longer than they had lingered on the rest, before returning to my eyes.

His eyes looked darker than before, hungry.

I swallowed on reflex while my heart fluttered, and the unnamed tension between us grew a bit more. My mouth went dry and my tongue swiped over my lips. Errol's eyes flickered down again, but returned up so fast I wasn't sure it had really happened.

"What does it matter?" he asked. His voice was lower, huskier than normal. The muscles in my stomach tightened.

"Just curious. An' I..." Swear words passed through my head over how ridiculously fragile I sounded. I cleared my throat before speaking again. "I've stupidly tried to find lassies for ye in the past, so I wanna make up for that by findin' ye a laddie."

Errol's stare was so intense I looked away and took a sip.

"Don't, Alasdair. There's no need for ye to do that."

I nodded and asked him about how work had been the previous day. I let go of the topic, at least for right then and there.

My eyes kept searching the crowd, however. Who of them might be someone who could catch Errol's attention? I felt fairly sure he'd be more interested in those who dressed casually than those who dressed up. He would probably also prefer someone who didn't try to be the centre of attention all the time. Would probably be good if the person was both strong and stable as well. Someone Errol could lean on, not someone he needed to take care of.

There was a group of four men sitting to the side of us. Among them, I saw how one of them kept throwing glances our way, throwing glances at Errol.

He looked alright. Dressed in just a shirt and jeans. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Quite soft, a bit boyish features though. Made me think he maybe wouldn't be able to support Errol like I thought he deserved. But you gotta start somewhere.

So when the laddie headed for the bathroom, I told Errol I needed to take a leak and followed.

He stood by the urinal, and I placed myself next to him.

"Hey," I said.

He startled a bit. "Hey."

"I'm Alasdair."

"Corey."

"Nice to meet ye, Corey."

He just nodded. Zipped up his pants and went to wash his hands. I mirrored his actions, though I hadn't peed at all.

"So, if I'm not mistaken ye were checkin' out my friend before," I said, getting straight to the point. No need to beat around the bush.

Though the bitter, disgusting taste grew in my mouth.

Corey blushed. "What? No. I..."

I gave a quick laugh. "Don't worry. I was just wonderin' if ye'd want me to introduce ye."

His eyes widened. "Would you? I mean, you two aren't..."

"Oh, no," I laughed. My mouth tasted of death. "We're just friends."

"Oh! Then alright!" Corey's eyes sparkled with excitement. Mine felt completely blank as I led him to mine and Errol's table. But when we reached it, I forced a smile on my lips and hoped some of it reached my eyes.

Errol caught my gaze with a smile. But then he looked over to Corey next to me and the smile dropped as a frown started appearing instead.

"I made a friend in the bathroom," I announced as I reached Errol. "This is Corey."

"Hello," Corey said in a small voice while his cheeks seemed to contain all the blood in his body.

Errol stared at Corey for a moment. The smile vanished completely. The frown deepened. I swallowed hard as the tension built. Like a thunder cloud rolling in.

It was far from the reaction I had hoped for, and my fingers began fidgeting while I wished I had left it alone. While I wished I had listened to the rotten taste in my mouth and not acted.

But it had been for a good reason. It had been to help Errol, to make him happy, to ensure I would get to keep him as my friend. That had to count for something.

Then Errol turned to me. His eyes were ablaze with anger and indignation. He wasn't the healing and nurturing water I often thought of him as. Instead, he was now like Poseidon, ready to punish me for my wrongs. Just like how Poseidon had caused Odysseus long and hard journey home as a punishment for blinding his son and then boasting about it, for acting without respect and humility. And under Errol's gaze I felt like how Odysseus must have felt, like a wee laddie being caught doing what he knew he shouldn't have.

"I told ye no, Alasdair," Errol pointed out. Corey had immediately sensed the shift and moved back to his friends.

"I know. But I..."

Errol didn't wait for me to finish. He stood and turned towards the exit.

"Where ye goin'?" I hurried after him.

No answer came. But when he was outside, he stopped and took out a cigarette.

"I just want ye to find someone an' be happy," I defended myself while we stood in the cold autumn air.

Errol shook his head. His eyes were fixed on something in the distance. Though I doubted he actually saw what he was looking at.

"I hate that Cameron is right," Errol mumbled, more to himself than me. But the words made my blood run cold.

"What... What do ye mean?"

His eyes travelled from the distance to focus back on me. The raging storm from moments ago was gone. Instead, he turned to the grieving Poseidon, who had lost a son to Achilles during the Trojan War.

"I really thought I could do this, Alasdair." His eyes swam in pain. "I really truly thought I was fine to be just yer friend."

My mind repeated the word no over and over. Denied where the conversation was heading. Though I knew. We had had this conversation once before. But I would deny it until he said the actual words.

Because this couldn't be happening. Not again.

"In the beginnin'," he continued, "I really thought I was over ye. That those feelings had gone away. Then I've spent some time denyin' that's not the case. An' some more hopin' ye felt..." He shook his head. Scoffed a little at himself. "It was such a stupid hope. I know ye well enough to know that isn't the case. I really thought, though, that we could be friends. But Cameron's right. I can't be just yer friend. I've been in love with ye since I was seventeen, an' I don't think I know how to not be. So I'm sorry, Alasdair. All of this..." He gestured with his hands between us. "It's just not workin'. As much as I want to be, I can't just be yer friend."

But there it was again. He couldn't be my friend. In my attempt to keep him, I had pushed him into that realisation.

And it all was my fault. Not only for making him realise, but for not being enough. For not being what he wanted me to be. As always, he had been there for me in every way I needed him, but I had failed him. I had hurt him.

And this quiet resignation of his... I wanted the fierce anger he had shown inside the pub to return. Wanted him to lash out at me, tear me apart. Drown me with his anger and pain. It would have been so much easier to handle than this quiet grief.

It would have been what I deserved.

Not that any of that would stop me from clinging to him like I always had.

"But ye said we'll always be friends," I pointed out.

He sighed. A deep, defeated sigh. "An' in some ways we will be. If ye ever really need me, ye can always come to me an' ask for help. I'll be there for ye. But I can't be a friend who hangs out with ye every day."

"But I always need ye!"

A sob escaped me as I spoke that truth. I needed him. Always had, always would. He had been the most important person in my life since I was seven years old, and losing him was like losing a part of me, a part of my soul.

Errol moved forwards, so we were only centimetres apart. He cupped my cheek. Gave me a lopsided smile.

"Ye don't. Ye're much stronger than ye think, Alasdair Bailey."

"Stop that!" I yelled and hit his hand away. His calm continued to grate at me. His calm, which spoke of how my sadness was more important to him than his own, even in this situation where I was the one hurting him. "Why are ye so calm? Why aren't ye angry with me?"

"I can never be angry with ye."

His eyes had turned teary, and his smile was filled with such tender ache.

It made everything even more painful. He was everything which was good, and I had been tearing him down piece by piece for the second time in my life when all I wanted was to make him as happy as he made me.

Why did he even continue to care about me? Couldn't he see how awful I really was? And why did he still love me when I was all wrong, when he deserved so much more? When I never, never, never could be enough?

"I'm sorry, Alasdair," he whispered. The ache echoed in his words and it ripped and clawed all over me.

So I turned and ran. I couldn't stay there anymore. Could handle Errol's pain, my own failure, my stupidity and selfishness.

I needed to escape from it all. So I ran without any plan of where to.