In the silence you could have heard a pin drop, as they say. David stood, breathless and sweating, in the open doorway. Jason sat on the bed across the room, forearms on his knees, David's phone dangling loosely from his fingers. The silence and distance between them had never been greater, filled with the events of the past and the dreadful premonitions of what was still to come. Only the bedside lamp was on, casting a warm yellow glow around the bed; outside it has begun to rain, pattering softly on the skylight and against the windows.

Jason was the one who spoke first: "Good timing," he said. "You just missed getting rained on." His voice gave nothing away about his internal state. "You left your phone," he continued, still in that unreadable, conversational tone. "I didn't notice, until it rang. I answered—I thought it might be one of your study friends. When they hung up, I was going to send them a text for you, and then I saw..." He looked down at the phone. "The texts. His texts. And that's when I knew it must have been him on the other end of the line."

He looked up, his face rigid, his eyes serious, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. There was anger there, certainly, but also something else. "So," Jason said, his voice low. "Here we are. You know, I've had this conversation before." A pause. "I never expected to have it with you."

David's breath left him in a sharp sigh, his eyes closing briefly with the ache the words created in his chest. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Jason neither accepted not acknowledged the apology. "Who is he?"

"Just a guy." David closed the door and came into the apartment, slowly and cautiously approaching the other man, the way one did with an unpredictable animal. "I met him at a club, we started dancing and next thing—"

Jason shook his head and laughed, a breathy, mirthless sound. "Suddenly so eager to tell me everything."

"I'm trying to explain," David said, his voice low and almost pitiful. He paused a few feet away, hands fidgeting. "He doesn't mean anything to me. It was just—"

"Just what?"

David drew back at the sharp words and even sharper glance flicked at him. He said nothing.

"The texts go back a month," Jason said, an edge creeping into his voice. "Forgive me, but I read through them. All the way to the first one—the morning after you were out all night." A pause. "Is that when you met?"

"Yes." A barely audible voice.

"He texts all the time. A few even came in while you were on your way over there. Whoever he is, he's having fun. Are you having fun, David?"

"I made a mistake," David said, taking a step towards him.

"Once is a mistake, David," Jason said, looking down. His face was hidden, but his voice shook with hurt. "A whole month's worth is just..." He shook his head. "You said he doesn't mean anything, but you still picked being with him tonight over being with me. How many other times have you done that?"

"I didn't," David said urgently, closing the distance between them and dropping to his knees in front of Jason. Looking up from below, David could see the shadowed face, the deeply furrowed brows. "I didn't pick him over you. Jason, I love you." Reaching out, he took the man's hands—they were cold. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"What did you mean to do?" Jason asked.

David opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he could only look at Jason mutely.

"A conversation needs two voices, David," Jason said. "Otherwise, I may as well be talking to myself. Which I've already done more than enough of, on those nights you were out with him." When more silence was all he got, Jason shook off David's grip and stood from the bed. "If you won't talk, then I guess there's nothing left to say."

"Wait," David said desperately, finally finding his voice as he reached out for the man who was heading for the door.

Jason pulled out of his reach and touch, turning to look at him with severe eyes and clenched jaw. David's hands hoovered, still wanting to touch Jason, to hold him and not let go. But they dropped away. They stood in heavy silence for a moment, looking at each other.

"Why did you do it?" Jason finally asked. "Why didn't you tell me? You had a month to tell me everything, but you kept lying to me, kept sneaking out to see him. If you wanted a break from this relationship—"

"I didn't. I don't!"

"Then WHY?"

David jumped at the sudden shout. Jason turned away, running his hands through his hair. He walked away a few feet. Pausing at the edge of the living room, he took a breath. When he turned back, he was back under his own control. "Then why?" he asked again, his voice strained.

David's mouth opened and closed a few times before the words came out. "I don't know why," he said brokenly.

"Then tell me what," Jason said. "What did you do with him, besides the obvious? What did you feel when you were with him?"

David backed away from the questions, his eyes fluttering and flicking at floor level. "Nothing," he said quickly. "I just went to see him play, and then—"

"Back to his apartment for 'study group'."

David flinched at the tone and fell silent, the dark eyes, guilty and apologetic beneath a fringe of black hair.

"What did you feel?" Jason asked, almost through clenched teeth, his voice piercing. "How did he make you feel?"

David shook his head. "He didn't—"

"Yes, he did," Jason said. "If he didn't, then why did you keep going back?" Suddenly he sighed, and all tension seemed to drain from him as he sank down onto the couch's arm rest. "Why did you keep going back, David?" Jason asked, his voice drained, tired. "Why him?"

David stepped closer, his hands twitching to reach out, but not. "It was just—" he cast around for a word— "habit," he finally said, somewhat lamely and desperately. "He was comfortable. We liked the same things, the same music, we knew the same people. He was...familiar."

Jason had watched him the whole time, his eyes like glass, his face unreadable. "Like your friends from before?" he asked.

David, gaze flicking up then away, nodded.

"So, every time you meet someone like that," Jason asked slowly, his tone making David look up at him, and their eyes meeting. "Will I have to worry about something like this happening again?"

David held his gaze, his impulse and desperation wanting to burst out with a resounding NO! But David could not lie to the man again. He would not. "I don't know," he said quietly.

Jason looked at him, a certain surprise flickering in his eyes, then he looked away. Getting to his feet, he walked towards the door, took his jacket from the hook, his keys from the table, and left without another word.

**

PRESENT

Water gushed from the tap as David splashed his face repeatedly and rapidly, so that when he finally straightened up, he was breathless. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his face dripping onto the sink. Without looking at his reflection, he reached for a black towel and patted his face dry. Still without looking at himself, he placed the towel back on the rack and turned away from the sink. He rarely looked at his reflection anymore, if he could avoid it. The memory of that night with Jason still made him sick to his stomach, living in him like a parasite—a parasite of his own making. It filled him with a familiar revulsion, the same kind he used to feel for himself when he was younger. He had moved away from his childhood home, but the feelings in the pit of his stomach could not be outrun.

Leaving the bathroom, Dave went outside to find Drew on the couch, asleep, his snores filling the air. David covered him with a blanket and left him asleep. Going to the bed, he looked down at it, at the rumbled sheets that hadn't been changed in a while, that he didn't even bother to make in the mornings, anymore. Jason has been the bedmaker, a habit from his army days. But now it was only David coming back to it in the evenings. He didn't climb onto it, but turned and sank down beside it to the floor, his back to the bed. Slumped on the wood floors, he leaned his head back onto the edge of the mattress and let one last memory float out of his head and into the apartment, superimposing over the space like a ghost, of the last time he was in this same position.

**

SIX MONTHS AGO

Jason stood by the couch, shrugging into his jacket. "I left the bills on the desk by the window," he said. "They're due the first of the month. Don't forget, or Maclaren will try to call the cops on you."

David, standing in the neutral space between the living room and front door, nodded.

"That's it, then, I guess," Jason said. He cast one last look around the apartment, at the kitchen and dining area hugging the left walls, where he and David had spent most of their meals; at the small living room where they fell asleep in front of the tv on movie nights; and finally the bed, where they used to spend lazy mornings looking up at the rain through the skylight. His gaze lingered over the space a moment, then he turned away. He came to David and hugged him. "Take care, okay?" he said as he held the slender young man. "Call if you need anything." He made to pull away, but David held on.

"Please, don't go," came the whisper.

Jason wrapped his arms back around the young man and held him tightly. "I have to," he murmured.

"Will you ever forgive me?"

Jason sighed. "I already forgive you, David. But I don't trust you anymore, and trust is important in any kind of relationship." Jason tightened his hold. "You're young, David. You don't need to be tied down in a relationship. Go out, have fun, without worrying about me."

"I love you," came the tear choked voice, hands tightening into his shoulder.

Jason sighed and closed his eyes. He buried his face into the shoulder. "Here's the thing about that love, David," he whispered. "I wish it had been enough to stop you. But it wasn't. It wasn't enough to stop you...and it's not enough to stop me."

David's hands went slack, and he felt Jason slip out of them. He didn't open his eyes; he couldn't watch the man leave. So, he listened, to the soft jingle of keys, the receding footsteps, and finally the opening and closing of the front door, signaling the exit of the man who loved him.

He went to the bed but could not climb in it. So, he sank to the floor, his back to the bed, hugged his knees and bent his head, and that's where he finally fell asleep, exhausted and cried out, in the past and in the present.