It was Saturday and a little over a week since me and Errol had declared our friendship reinstated. We had hung out a couple of times since then. Just us with no outside influences. But this Saturday we would be hanging out again with others around.

I felt silly, but I was nervous.

It was so easy for us to just be us when no one else was around. Conversations flowed without interruptions. I felt no fear of judgement from someone else. No pressure to live up to expectations set by others.

It was my own fault we would hang out with others around. When I had asked, I hadn't thought about anything other than wanting to spend as much time with him as possible. I had been riding on the high of joy.

But as much as I regretted asking him, I knew it was inevitable for us to spend time in a group setting. It would be weird if we were friends who never did that.

The time was a bit past midnight. Me and my fellow classmates, and the friends they had invited, had been drinking for quite a while already in the common area of the student housing some lived in. The whole space was a straight up cliché. Some dirty dishes in the sink. A passive-aggressive note on the fridge telling everyone to leave the kitchen as clean as they would want to find it. The ceiling had marks of corks and booze. The couches should have gone into retirement several years ago.

As Errol was working, he wasn't due there until closer to one.

He had also said a few other people from the restaurant had asked if they could come, that they had been excited about the idea of a student party after he had told them about it. I had said yes, and I regretted that even more than inviting him.

I wanted to spend time with him, yes. But I wanted to spend time with him alone.

Such a weird and possessive feeling to have about a friend. I knew it was weird. I had tried to reason myself out of feeling it.

It hadn't worked.

"What time did you say your friend was gonna show up?"

Kenna sat next to me on a couch with a beer in hand. Since the Dorian Gray debacle, she had been sitting next to me in class. We had even gone to a café together to write one afternoon. She was sweet. A bit too intrusive at times. Like I had let it slip that me and Errol had been out of touch for a long time when she had asked about him. She had then pressed for information about what had happened and hadn't understood I had no interest in talking about it until I had outright said I didn't want to.

"Around one," I answered and took a sip of my beer.

"I can't wait to properly meet him."

I just nodded, feeling a bit unsure what her interest was all about.

Time went by at snail's pace. Kenna talked about a diversity of different things. Usually she was rather reserved about what she shared about herself, but it seemed like alcohol loosened her tongue.

Not that I was able to particularly concentrate on what she said. Not even as she recounted a story of when she had met a man she swore had had claws for nails and fur growing on his face. My mind was far too occupied with keeping an eye on the entrance.

My legs bounced where I sat on the couch, but as soon as he walked in, they stopped. My eyes were on him in a second, and his eyes found me equally fast. His face cracked into a smile. My nervousness and regret were forgotten.

In that moment, it felt like before everything, before the Incident and all the events leading up to it. I stood and my feet felt light as I hopped over to him. My arms wrapped around him in a hug, and his arms did the same in the way I was used to. One more around my waist, the other up towards my shoulders. Then a very short, soft laugh escaped him. A bit of a mixture between a laugh and a sigh.

We stood like that for what was probably longer than the social norm.

Errol was the one to pull away.

"How much have ye had to drink already?" he asked, ruffling my hair.

"Not that much," I answered with the defiance of a child. It only caused him to laugh a bit more.

"It's great to see ye again, Alasdair," someone said and drew my attention to the ones Errol had brought with him. Alexandra was the one who had spoken. Fred stood next to her. And of course Cameron was right by Errol as well.

My stomach knotted again.

"Likewise," I answered Alexandra and plastered a smile on my face. My eyes travelled over Fred and Cameron again to ensure they understood it included them. When they were back on Cameron, the knots became even tighter.

He still hadn't done anything to warrant my reaction. In fact, he smiled right back at me. But the knots were there, almost overwhelmingly so.

"Let's get ye all some to drink," I said to push the knots away. Or to at least keep the situation easy so they wouldn't notice them. But as I turned to walk to the drinks table, my hand reached to find Errol's. I hoped it would just seem to the others as me taking hold of him to guide through the rather packed room, and not what it actually was. A way to ground myself and not have the knots take over.

Errol's hand squeezed mine, and the knots dissolved, at least for a moment.

Kenna joined up with us by the drinks, and I introduced everyone.

"I've seen you pick up Alasdair a few times after class," Kenna said to Errol. They stood facing each other while I was between them, so the three of us formed an U.

"Aye, I've seen ye too," Errol answered her. His hand brushed against mine, and like I knew Errol had known I needed the squeeze just before to not have my emotions spiralling, I knew Errol was seeking physical contact for a similar reason. I didn't get why, but I didn't need to.

I tangled our fingers together, just a bit, just enough for him to know I was present there with him.

"Alasdair said you two have known each other always," Kenna went on. "Was he always this fierce?"

"Fierce?" Errol echoed and tilted his head. "I'm not sure I would use that adjective to describe him." He looked at me with the question mark written all over his face. I shrugged because I also had no idea what Kenna was talking about.

I was a lot of things, but fierce didn't feel like one of them.

"Not? You should have heard him last week."

And I knew what she was on about. But the thought of Errol finding out about it... I didn't know why, couldn't explain it to myself at all. But I just didn't want him to know. To protect him? Probably. He didn't need to know about the bigots in my class.

"Oh, really?" Errol prompted her to continue, but I cut in.

"It was nothin'. I really wanna smoke. Will ye join?" I asked, and before even really giving him a chance to answer, I dragged him away from Kenna, away from everyone, and to the balcony.

"So what happened last week an' why don't ye want me to know?" Errol asked while we lit our cigarettes.

"Nothin'. Really. She was exaggeratin'," I deflected, but Errol narrowed his eyes on me. I sighed. "We were talkin' about Dorian Gray an' someone was bein' a bigot. That's all."

His eyes darkened, and he nodded. I wanted to say something to ease his darkness, but I had no idea what could. So we both took several drags in silence.

"Kenna seems nice," he pointed out.

I shrugged. "I guess."

"Ye guess?"

"Aye, we haven't known each other long enough for me to know."

And with that, his darkness seemed to ease. I didn't get it, but I didn't question it. As long as he seemed happier, that was all that mattered.

We finished and joined in with the others. Conversations and alcohol flowed with ease for about half an hour. Though Cameron's presence continued to make me uneasy, everything also felt good. Felt nice and normal. It wasn't awkward or weird to hang out with Errol in that group setting. It felt as natural as it always had. And it made me smile seeing him interact with Alexandra and Fred. He laughed and talked with ease in a way I couldn't remember him ever doing with others than me, Airlia, and Ethan back in the village.

It really looked like he had found a better place for himself in life, and knowing that warmed me.

"Let's play never have I ever!" someone announced, and we all gathered around in a circle. I sat with Kenna on one side, Errol on the other, and on Errol's other side, Cameron sat, and the game went smoothly. For a while.

It wasn't until "Never have I ever kissed someone present" that I understood what a bloody minefield the game could be. I was so used to playing it in the village with people that already knew everything about me. We had used it more as a way to get drunk quicker under the pretence of it being a game. We all knew what things would make who drink, so it had never been about the excitement of finding out more about each other.

But now...

What would I do? Did I drink? If I did, people would start speculating about who of the other drinkers I had kissed. I didn't want anyone to guess correctly. And again, not because I thought there was anything wrong with being homosexual, but because I knew others did. I worried what they would do if they figured out me and Errol had...

I hadn't even really allowed myself to think about the actual action which had caused me to find out Errol was gay. It was too much thinking in detail about the Incident, and I didn't want that.

To help me with the game at the moment, though, I glanced at Errol to see what he would do. If he would drink, or if we could without speaking come to an agreement on what to do.

I saw his hand move, but not to drink. His hand went out to tap two fingers on an arm, which had moved up a bit. Then Errol looked, barely shaking his head, at Cameron, who frowned, but lowered his arm the few centimetres it had travelled up.

That confirmed it. They were more than friends.

Why hadn't Errol told me?

The naturalness and ease of the evening disappeared from my body. Instead, it felt hollow. Completely empty of everything. As if I was a black hole.

But why did it even affect me like this? Me and Errol had just begun talking again. It wasn't too weird if he hadn't told me everything yet. And I didn't even know exactly what it meant that they had kissed. I had done that with Errol as well, but that didn't mean we had ever been in a relationship. So they maybe had shared a drunken kiss or something. Nothing more than that.

The way I felt was both ridiculous and unfounded.

"Never have I ever puked in a church," someone said and I took an as big gulp as possible, and for every coming time I could drink, I made sure to drink a lot. With each mouthful, I hoped the emptiness in me would be filled.

It wasn't.

"Ye should pace yerself," Errol mumbled to me after a while.

"I can handle it," I grumbled back and took another large sip.

"If ye're sure," Errol said. "Me an' Cameron are gonna smoke. Wanna join?"

I shook my head. There was no way I'd smoke together with both of them.

Errol ruffled my hair and leaned closer. Whispered to me, "Whatever got ye upset, know I'm here." Then he disappeared from my side.

So much for being there...

I knew that thought was unfair, and it wasn't what he had meant. He didn't mean physically always be there, but if I ever wanted to talk, he would be. It was hard to not have my thoughts turn bitter, however. Especially knowing he was out smoking with Cameron. Just thinking his name soured my mood. And it annoyed me to no end that Errol hadn't said anything about their potential relationship.

Without really knowing what I was doing, I stood.

"Where you going?" Kenna asked from next to me.

"Bathroom," I muttered, though that wasn't at all what was on my mind. Instead, I walked through the corridor towards the balcony. I didn't step out on it, though. When I was right by the door, I stopped and stood to the side so I wouldn't be seen, but could hear their conversation.

It was wrong. So wrong. My heart hammered all the way up to my ears. I felt like Elizabeth listening in on Darcy and Bingley's conversation. If that book was anything to go by, I'd hear something about myself which would cause me to look at Errol negatively.

But even though I knew all of that, knew I ought to have left, I remained to listen in.

"Ye don't have to worry," Errol was saying. His voice calm.

"Ye're makin' it hard not to. Just now, the way ye leaned in," Cameron answered. His voice was more riled up. Not aggressive yet, but riled up. And his words confirmed what I had thought when following them; they were talking about me.

"It's nothin'. It's just the way we've always been," Errol defended.

"An' the way ye've always been is in love with him."

"Are ye seriously bein' jealous? We're not even a thin'."

"I'm not. As I said, I'm worried about ye. Worried ye're settin' yerself up to get hurt again."

"An' as I said, don't worry. Those feelings are gone."

"If ye say so."

"Ye don't believe me? I gotta prove it to ye?"

Next came the sound of steps. A surprised gasp. Followed by the sound of kissing.

Just to torture myself some more, just to make sure, I took a peek out on the balcony.

Errol had pressed Cameron up against the wall, holding his hands above his head. Their lips locked. Kissing in almost an aggressive way.

I put a hand over my mouth to not let any sound slip out of me, then backed away. I closed my eyes as if that would make me unsee what I had seen. Obviously, that didn't work.

Errol had kissed Cameron. That was a fact.

And my mind was racing. A million thoughts streaming through it. As relentless as fire over alcohol-drenched trees.

Too jumbled to make sense.

Too messy for me to know what I felt.

Too repetitive for me to not acknowledge some.

If I were gay, would Errol kiss me like that as well?

But I wasn't, so it was a dumb question to wonder about. Completely unimportant. What was a more important question was that now I knew for certain Errol and Cameron were a thing, but Errol had neglected to tell me.

Why? Why, why, why? Did he think I would be disgusted or something? Or did I simply matter so little?

Independent on what, I was hurting. Though more than hurting. My insides felt cold, hollow, and black at the same time. It burned, and I wanted to storm out and yell at Errol.

But I wouldn't. If I yelled at him, then I'd just give him more reasons to think little of me, to not care about me, to not trust me. So I needed to find some other type of release for my emotions.

I walked back to the living room and straight for the alcohol. I poured myself a shot, then another. After the third, I scanned around the room.

I had no real plan as I made my way to Kenna, except knowing I was hurting because I had seen Errol make out with someone, so maybe making out would make the pain lessen.

The game had stopped, and Kenna was talking to some other lassies from the programme. I sat on the couch next to her and brushed her hair to the side to gain her attention.

"There you are! Was wondering where you disappeared to," she said.

"Missed me?" I smirked and saw with equal amounts of satisfaction and guilt as her cheeks went red.

She ignored the question and instead asked me about my writing. I told her, while brushing my fingers against her arm, knowing each touch was me using her and feeling horrible about it. Not that it stopped me. The alcohol numbed the guilt.

For each word I spoke, however, the harder it became to formulate them. To even remember what I had just said.

She said something to me. I tried to listen. I really did. And I heard each individual word, but I couldn't find the meaning in them.

And everything was spinning. The building, the room, the couch. Everything.

There was too much saliva in my mouth. I swallowed it, but more kept coming, and more wanted to come with the saliva.

A hand on my arm. A familiar hand. And looking up, I saw gentle but worried eyes. I couldn't focus on them, though. It made everything spin more. Below them were lips looking both soft and inviting. They were easier to focus my eyes on. Lips... I had planned to make out with someone. Was it those lips? They looked welcoming enough.

They went out of my sight and it felt like everything crashed. And the spinning got worse.

But before I hit the bottom, I was pulled to my feet. Something strong and steady wrapped around my waist and I looked up at those lips again. They were so close. Just a few centimetres away. It would be so easy to kiss them.

But then they moved. Formed three words. I understood them separately, but not together.

"Can."

"Ye."

"Walk."

I wondered what those lips would taste like.

Then I moved. Or we moved. The person the lips belong to, the person holding me around my waist, guided me away from wherever I was.

It made the spinning worse. It created more saliva in my mouth. And when the cool night air hit me, I bent over and puked.

"Ye gettin' it all out?"

I nodded towards the ground. Puking had cleared my mind a bit. I could put the separated words together into sentences again. I also became aware of who was with me. Of whose lips I had been thinking about kissing.

Damn it. I was truly and utterly drunk.

I was immensely happy I hadn't followed through with the impulse.

"Walk or cab?" Errol asked next.

"Walk," I answered, because just the idea of sitting down in a cab had my stomach twisting again.

He continued to hold an arm around my waist as we walked.

"Why did ye drink so much?" he asked after a bit.

"Dunno," I answered while the image of Errol making out with Cameron assaulted my mind.

I was pathetic. So bloody pathetic. None of this made any sense to me. I was being unreasonable, reacting like I had. Of course Errol was allowed to have a relationship and not tell me straight away. I had done the same with Flora, after all. He didn't owe me the information. He didn't owe me anything. I was the one who owed him so bloody much. For all the care he had shown me over the years and for all the hurt I had caused him. I should be down on my knees, thanking him for even wanting to be my friend again. Not flip out over him not telling me everything.

He stopped, so I stopped. He brushed a finger over my cheek. I did the same.

They were wet. I was crying.

"What happened, Alasdair? Did someone hurt ye?" Errol's voice sounded menacing. Made me shudder. But then I shook my head at his question.

"No. I hurt ye." My voice was broken from my tears.

"What?"

"I hurt ye over an' over. For so long."

He sighed, then pulled me into his arms. I pushed. I didn't deserve the hug. But Errol had always been stronger than me in all possible ways.

"Don't blame yerself for any of that," he murmured. It made no difference. I was to blame for so much.