Summary: Pavel's finally met someone who doesn't just see him as cute, naive, little Ensign Chekov. Pretty soon he's in over his head. But when he finally decides to assert himself, it's McCoy who finds himself in the position of nervous, awkward suitor. McCoy/Chekov, Chekov/OMC, mentioned Kirk/Spock
Notes: This was written over the summer of 2009 for thest_xi_kink meme: "Chekov and McCoy fall into a habit of having sex several times a week, but outside the bedroom, Chekov finds the doctor completely ignores him. He won't even speak if they pass in the hallway and Chekov gets annoyed and decides that he doesn't want to be some sex buddy for anyone. He tells McCoy, who snaps back that a real relationship between them is possible and Chekov pretty much tells him he can fuck himself from now on. Chekov then starts dating someone else, forcing McCoy to admit he does want a relationship with the younger man, but he's going to have to win Chekov back. I'd like them to have a happy ending."
It will be posted here in three parts.
Warnings: Partially graphic sex, swearing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, its characters, settings, or universes. I also don't own the planet Zortex.
x
Pavel is on his hands and knees on his bed and Dr. McCoy is pressed heavy and close over him, on him, against him, inside him. This is not really happening. No, it is happening. Pavel is simply having a difficult time believing that it is really, really, happening.
He feels the doctor pull out and then push himself, just this side of maddeningly slowly, forward again, and Pavel bites his lip to keep from whimpering too loudly and—ooooh yes yesyesyes—and even then he can't stop himself from mumbling, almost incoherent into his pillowcase, "Fuck me fuck me fuck me—Leo-nard oooooooh."
The Doctor doesn't say anything. He doesn't make many noises at all, just a few low, rumbling groans, but Pavel can hear him breathing heavily, that harsh hot breath against his skin. It's almost too much but it's not—oh—OH—"yes! yes!" he yells, "fuck me!"—oh it's right like this, right—"HARDER"—Pavel's hands form aching fists around the sheets—"harder yes."
He shuts his eyes as tightly as he can and tries to imagine Dr. McCoy's face, what he must look like now. He's moving faster, and Pavel thinks he hears something like a moan escape McCoy's lips, yes, and oh he just wants to see his face now but he's afraid to open his eyes and afraid to move and afraid of this ending but he's so close, too, and what does McCoy look like when he comes, now as he's coming, his body shaky and pressed so heavy, so undeniably present, against Pavel. A sharp exhale of breath. And in that breath, it sounds like, yes, a shaky, whispered, "Pavel."
His name has never sounded more dirty or more beautiful.
It's almost enough to make him come right there but he doesn't, not until he feels McCoy's sure hand over him and—and—fuck—fuck fuck yes, yes ooooooh yes.
Then Leonard pulls away and they're lying next to each other again no longer touching and it's over.
x
He never really believed that they'd end up—well that they'd end up fucking, there's no other word for it really, he decides later, and it's best to be precise. He thought it might happen. He even imagined it. But he didn't really believe it would go so far. It was—he leans back in his chair and bites his lip and thinks it through properly—it was as if he'd stepped onto a path, and even though he knew exactly where that path would lead if he didn't turn off of it eventually, he just kept on taking another step and another step because that end seemed so far away, and just one more step could never hurt.
Before Dr. McCoy his life had been quite simple. Everyone on the ship saw him as just a kid, cute little Pavel Chekov, harmless and nonthreatening. And it had annoyed him at first, until he learned how to take advantage of it. A casually suggestive comment here, some low key flirting there—just enough to make his fellow crewmembers a bit surprised or embarrassed. No one knew quite how to respond to him; he was never obvious enough to warrant a gentle let-down, never invested enough to be hurt that a let down was what the other person was looking for. It was all a game, anyway.
Until he tried to play with Dr. McCoy. Then suddenly all his too long touches were met with a knowing smirk that twisted him up inside, all his suggestive comments were returned, and sometimes on the bridge or in the mess or in the hallways he'd notice the Doctor looking at him. He'd meet McCoy's gaze just to see if he flinched, but McCoy never turned away.
"Do you know what you're doing, Chekov?" McCoy had asked him one day, as he bandaged Pavel's arm. At first, Pavel thought the Doctor was referring to his work on the ship, always unsurpassable while on the Enterprise herself, though slightly less stellar while on away missions. This time he'd hurt his arm in an avoidable slide down a rocky mountainside.
Then he glanced up and met the Doctor's stare and realized he was talking about something else altogether.
And he felt his heart beat a bit faster and his stomach twist in that painful wonderful familiar-by-now way and he knew, first, that he had no idea what he was doing, and second, that he wanted Dr. Leonard McCoy, wanted every last grumpy, grumbling, pessimistic, stubborn, exasperated, overworked, inch of him, like he'd never wanted anyone before in his life. It was a burning fire of lust he felt and he hoped the Doctor could see it in him.
He lied and said, "Of course Dr. McCoy, I know exactly vat I am doing."
x
Dr. McCoy leaves before Pavel falls asleep and by the next morning, it's almost as if he had never been there at all. Pavel draws out his morning routine, takes an extra long shower, changes all the sheets on his bed, and the first half of the day slips away. Then he's stuck on the bridge for a long afternoon shift, and Hikaru drags him off to dinner afterwards before he can protest. Between this and that and the other, the whole day goes by and he doesn't see the Doctor even once. Not even in passing. He's not sure if he's disappointed or relieved.
x
They see each other again only two days later, on the bridge, when the Captain directs Chekov to answer the Doctor's questions on the planet they are currently orbiting, while the Captain himself confers with Mr. Spock at the First Officer's station. Pavel tries his best to be professional, and so, he assumes, does Dr. McCoy, who barely gives him a glance through their entire conversation. Pavel wishes he had some sort of signal, one that only they two knew, that he could slip into the conversation somehow. Something that meant, Let's talk later or even just, I've been thinking about you.
The truth is he doesn't even know what he would say to McCoy if they were alone. He assumes something will come to him. But because he's not sure it will, and because he's nervous, and because he's somehow found himself waiting for the Doctor to make the next move and he's not, not even a little, he doesn't seek McCoy out. He doesn't go to sick bay or drop by his office or make an effort to catch him alone in the turbo lift. He likes to tell himself that the Doctor is just trying to be professional, just trying to follow regulations when on duty. And it doesn't matter that he never seemed to care about regulations in the past, not through four months of careful, subtle, frustrating, breath catching flirting. Because it's true things are different now. That doesn't mean it's over. That doesn't mean they've reached the end of the path, nowhere else now to go.
x
That weekend Pavel gets drunk with Mr. Scott in his office off the engineering wing. When he gets back to his quarters it's late and Dr. McCoy is waiting outside the door. He's standing with his back to Pavel, standing stiff and still like he's completely engrossed in his own thoughts, and he doesn't notice Pavel at all until he's right behind him. Pavel feels like he should probably be pretty nervous now but he's so drunk he finds he can't care enough to be nervous anymore, so he just taps the Doctor casually on the back and says, "If you vill excuse me, Doctor, I vould like to open ze door to my room now."
McCoy jumps, startled, and turns to face Pavel properly. He gives him a close, scrutinizing look before he says anything. Then he accuses Pavel of being drunk.
"Vhy yes Doctor I am VERY drunk!" he answers, vaguely aware that he's being unnecessarily loud, but the hallway's deserted and anyway, what's the point of being drunk if one can't be loud? So he doesn't bother to lower his voice as he asks, "Are you here to fuck me again?"
McCoy reaches out like he wants to slap his hand over Pavel's mouth but he stops himself, and just shushes him instead. It hurts a little, hurts his pride, but he doesn't say anythin. He just glares at McCoy for a second, keys in the code to his door, and watches it slide open.
"I'm surprised you even remembered that in your state," McCoy mutters behind him, following Pavel in.
"Maybe I am not zat drunk," he starts to answer, and then, in an unfortuante bit of timing, bangs loudly into his own desk and almost falls over.
"'Not that drunk' my ass," McCoy says, as he holds Pavel up. He holds on for just a moment too long, and when Pavel straightens up properly, or as properly as he can, he's rather pleased to note the Doctor is blushing a little.
"So vhy are you here?" he asks, in what he hopes is his best cooly discerning voice.
"Originally?" McCoy answers. "To see you. But now I think it's better if I just help you get into bed so you can sleep this off."
That is not good. To see is so vague. It tells him nothing. And now the Doctor is looking at him with a very funny, almost worried expression on his face, and also the room is kind of tippy again. Ooooh it's been a long time since that happened. Suddenly he's in McCoy's arms again but that is probably just because his legs don't seem to be working too well anymore.
So he lets McCoy do what he wants: lets him help Pavel out of his boots and then out of his uniform trousers and yellow shirt. He lets him turn down the covers of the bed and slip Pavel under them. He lets him turn down the lights till there's only enough light to let McCoy see his way out. But just as the Doctor's at the door Pavel calls out to him again, more sleepy than anything by now, and tells him to wait. And he does. Which for some reason makes Pavel very happy though he's in no position to analyze.
"What?" McCoy asks.
"I vould have let you," he says. "If you had come here to fuck me, I vould have let you."
McCoy just scoffs. "I don't take advantage of people when they're drunk," he says, like he's insulted that anyone would suggest otherwise, and the door shuts with a mechanical whoosh behind him before Pavel can figure out how to say that that's not exactly what he meant.
x
He wakes up the next morning confused and hungover. He remembers every minute of the night before though, every last embarrassing second, and as he goes over it all again he finds he has to bury his head under both his pillows just to stand it.
x
He walks over to sick bay just so he can tell Dr. McCoy thank you, but when the Doctor doesn't ask him if he's okay, doesn't acknowledge at all that they even saw each other the night before, he decides it's better to pretend he just came to pick up some painkillers for his headache and then leave as quickly as he can.
x
The turbolift stops at level six and Dr. McCoy steps on, with nothing but a curt nod in Pavel's direction because, of course, they are just colleagues. Pavel's trained himself by now to think of them that way again, and he's even started to feel foolish that he ever thought one night would change that. "You are just a naïve boy, Pavel," he tells himself, "and this is why everyone treats you the way that they do."
The Doctor steps off again at level three, but Pavel has business on the first level and stays on. The lift bumps a little as it stops, and just before the doors open, McCoy asks, "Big plans for your Friday night, Ensign?"
"No, Doctor," he answers. "Just a quiet evening in my quarters." This is true; he's too nervous and surprised to come up with a lie.
"That's good to know," McCoy answers, and it almost seems like he's smiling a little as he says it, and suddenly Pavel's heart is beating hard again like he is a thirteen year old boy with his first crush.
"Perhaps I vill run into you sometime," he manages, barely, but the Doctor is already stepping into the hallway and can't do much more than nod at him in return before the lift doors close again between them.
x
He's not really reading the newest calculations Mr. Spock sent him that morning, but he is making a concerted effort to look at the numbers when he hears the knock on his door. He rushes to open it, then restrains himself, and waits for McCoy to knock again before he lets him in.
Pavel's not sure what sort of introductory conversation he was expecting, but apparently, there is little need of one. McCoy asks him if he's busy and he says no, then watches as the Doctor steps up quite close, no more awkward personal space between them anymore, and asks if he can stay a while then, and Pavel says, "Stay all night." Then Leonard reaches out to curve his hand around Pavel's cheek, brushing his thumb just so across his skin as he does, and Pavel adds—his voice, nervous, makes him sound like he's out of breath—"if you can last that long."
Leonard just laughs a little, low in his throat, and pulls Pavel's body close with his free hand.
They kiss but it's not a slow, leisurely, thing, not a kiss for its own sake. McCoy is already steering them both toward Pavel's bed. Their legs tangle up in each other and they fall down without grace onto the pillows. The Doctor is on top of him, tongue pulsing without rhythm into his mouth, hands running down his body like he owns it and this alone makes Pavel shiver and clutch all the harder at McCoy's back. McCoy's mouth slides off of his, begins to kiss down his neck, licking and biting as he goes; when Pavel's shirt gets in the way he strips it off quickly, barely a pause for the fabric to slip off between them before he throws the shirt to the floor and continues to kiss down. Pavel is more awkward as he struggles to pull off Leonard's shirt. "S'okay," he says finally, sitting back for a moment and pulling it off himself, and Pavel blushes a little, though it's hard to care too much, the way Leonard begins to kiss back up to his neck, biting softly at the most sensitive spots. Pavel starts to roll his hips up gently, moving his hands all the way down Leonard's back to grab his ass.
In a moment they're kissing again, sloppy and wet and uneven. Pavel is starting to sweat and his whole body feels tense with desperation. He kisses, awkward but passionate, just wanting and not caring, filled to bursting with want, the sides of Leonard's face and behind his ear and down the far side of his neck and over his chest, anywhere he can find skin, and everywhere he finds skin. Leonard's hands are at the button of his trousers, and again they're pausing just the barest few moments to discard the rest of their clothes, until Pavel's only got one sock on and he finds himself maneuvering like an acrobat to pull it off without breaking the latest kiss. He's so gone he doesn't care that Leonard's chuckling at him again. He will show him that a mouth can be used for better things than laughing.
x
Leonard kisses his shoulder, a slick press of lips against his burning skin, and Pavel clenches his fists, nails into his own skin, and what has happened, what is happening, is that everything else in every universe ceases to matter and it is only the two of them, hot and close against each other.
x
He tries to recapture that feeling, the memory of that feeling even, after Dr. McCoy leaves and he's lying alone and vaguely sticky (he doesn't even care) in his bed. It's two in the morning San Francisco time, one in the afternoon at home. He closes his eyes. He tries to imagine Leonard next to him, maybe running his fingers up and down Pavel's arm. Something small is what he wants. But he'll take what he can get. Finally he pulls himself up and goes to take a shower.
x
He's not surprised this time when Dr. McCoy barely nods at him in the hallway, ignores him completely on the bridge. Somehow that makes it worse, but he doesn't press, doesn't try to force the Doctor's attention, doesn't let himself get distracted when he is supposed to be working. He doesn't stay in when he knows McCoy isn't going to show up at his door, though whenever the Doctor asks him, casual and light in the turbo lift, about his evening's plans, he says he doesn't have any, even when he does.
One day, wandering in the jungle terrain of a newly discovered planet, he gets caught up in some sort of native plant and ends up with an embarrassing and painful rash over his face and hands. Dr. McCoy is on duty when Hikaru and Mr. Spock drag him in to sick bay. They're called away too soon, though, Hikaru a bit reluctantly but he doesn't have much choice, and then it's just Pavel and the Doctor. McCoy frowns as he inspects Pavel's skin. It's hard to tell if he's worried because it looks bad or just annoyed at the extra work it will take to treat a stupid young Ensign who wandered somewhere he shouldn't have.
"It vas an accident, Doctor," he starts to explain but McCoy just shushes him.
"I've never seen anything quite like this," he says, looking at the red blotches on Pavel's cheek and forehead, avoiding even the slightest glance at his eyes. "But I can probably find something that will at least help with the pain. Might have to wait for some of it to go away on its own though…"
As his voice trails off Pavel finds himself thinking, though he doesn't mean to and doesn't want to, of McCoy's voice as it whispered, "Pavel," so low and sinful and gorgeous, their first night together. "Pavel," this man had said once, this same cool and professional young Doctor whose gloved hand is now below Pavel's chin, slowly tilting his face side to side. It is almost too much to believe.
x
Pieroshki from the replicators never taste the same as the ones his mama makes at home; still he orders them again and again, hoping this time it will be different. Hikaru is still getting his food so Pavel heads off by himself and finds an empty table for both of them near the corner of the mess. Everything considered, it has been a very good day. The last of the red splotches have finally cleared from his face, and he can actually look at himself in the mirror again without wincing; he spent the entire afternoon with Mr. Spock working through a bug in the ship's computer system, and he was indespensable to the final clearing up of the problem; also, on his way to dinner, he ran into and had a short conversation with one of the new security officers, a twenty three year old Welsh man with a quite amazing accent, and he's pretty sure the other guy was flirting with him.
Just as he is deciding that maybe this time the food is a little better, he notices Dr. McCoy and the Captain enter and join the line for food at the far end of the room. They're having some sort of animated conversation—or at least, the Captain is animated, waving his hands around a lot; Dr. McCoy is standing still, arms crossed against his chest, letting the Captain do most of the talking. Pavel watches him and watches him and watches him, and just as he's thinking that it probably isn't healthy to be this interested in another person, Hikaru reappears and pulls up a chair across from Pavel.
"Sorry," he grins, "the replicator got stuck again. Damn things. I feel like that happens every week, don't you?"
Hikaru has not quite blocked Pavel's view of the Doctor, but now that he's here Pavel feels that it would be weird to stretch and twist around for a good view. He flicks his eyes back down to his dinner.
"Pavel? Pavel are you paying any attention to what I'm saying?"
"Vat?" he looks up again. Hikaru is frowning at him.
"I guess that's a no, then. What's up? You've seemed awfully distracted recently. I thought you were just embarrassed about that stuff on your face but—you look fine now, you know."
This comment isn't really helpful but Pavel knows his friend means well, so he smiles. Anyway, it is true. He has been a bit more than distracted recently. He considers for a moment, then says carefully, "Hikaru, I have a question."
Hikaru stops with his fork in his salad and looks up to meet Pavel's eyes carefully. "I know that voice," he says, "that's a This Is Serious voice. Is something wrong?"
"No, no," he assures Hikaru, shaking his head emphatically. "I just have a question. Zat is all."
"So? Go ahead," Hikaru waves him on with his fork, still frowning a little.
Pavel takes a breath first, then starts, trying to pick his words carefully. "Vhen two people are…sleeping togezer….often—zat is, regularly…but zey are not in a relationship…vhat is—is zere a vord for—"
"Pavel, do you have a fuck buddy?" Hikaru interrupts. He sounds almost excited. Pavel blushes and looks down at his pieroshki again pointedly.
"Not so loud, Hikaru, please," he says quietly.
"What? Oh, sorry," he answers, and brings the volume of his voice down appropriately. "So do you?" Something on his face, or maybe just the fact that he won't meet Hikaru's eyes, is all the answer he needs. "Who is it?" he asks, still much too excited for Pavel's liking. "It's not that blonde girl from engineering that Scotty introduced us to at the Christmas party, is it? I always liked her."
"It is not her, Hikaru," Pavel says, his voice almost a whisper, barely moving his mouth as he speaks and the tips of his ears burning. "I do not vant to talk about who it is. I just vant to know vat this means, this vord 'fuck buddies.'"
"Well, it's what you just said. It's what it sounds like," Hikaru tells him, controlling his voice better this time, perhaps aware that this is not, and is not going to become, a fun conversation. "Just two people who want to have sex with each other but don't want the strings of a relationship." Pavel doesn't say anything in response for a while, doesn't even look up, and finally Hikaru asks, "Pavel?" and reaches his hand across the table. He pats Pavel's arm softly, then lets his hand rest there. It is a comforting, gentle touch and Pavel appreciates the small gesture more than he can put into words. Finally, he looks up and meets Hikaru's eye again.
"Pavel," Hikaru says again, "this person you're with…you really care about them, don't you?"
Pavel gets the feeling that this is not exactly what Hikaru wants to say. But he just nods. "Zese pieroshki," he says, "zey are not'ing like vat my mama cooks at home."
"I know what you mean," Hikaru answers, taking his hand from Pavel's arm and giving his own food a frown.
x
Hikaru convinces him to talk to "whoever this person is," as he puts it, and explain what he wants. The night before Pavel is nervous. He lies awake for hours with the lights off and the ship quiet around him, missing the sound of traffic outside his window at home. He hasn't felt homesick like this since his first month at the Academy. It is a strange feeling.
By the time he walks into sick bay the next afternoon, though, all he feels is own anger. It fills him with something like self-confidance, or at least determination, and the feelings is so intoxicating that he doesn't hesitate, just strides through the halls and right to Dr. McCoy's office without answering anyone's questions.
McCoy is at his desk, recording his log. Pavel waits in the doorway, trying not to lose all his nerve at the last minute; McCoy notices him, raising his eyebrows only briefly before turning his back to him to finish what he is doing. After he turns the recorder off he turns back around properly.
"Was there something you wanted, Ensign?" he asks.
"Yes." He steps fully into the room and checks quickly behind him to make sure there is no one within listening range out in the hall. "I am here because I vant to talk about us," he announces.
For a moment, just a moment but Pavel notices, Dr. McCoy looks nervous. Then he pulls himself together again and says, "I don't think this is the best time, Ensign. I'm still on duty."
"Zis vill not take long," Pavel insists. He doesn't say it, but he's thinking that if he doesn't make his demand now he never will. He takes one deep breath, then another.
"Well, what is it?" McCoy prods.
"I know zat you like to act as if ve vere not'ing but…but acquaintances ven ve meet outside of my room," he starts finally. He tries to stand up as straight as he can and keep his hands locked behind his back. "But zat is not all zat ve are, and if you vill not acknowledge zat…" he pauses, and takes another big breath so that he can finally say it: "Zen I do not vant to see you again."
The Doctor just looks at him, unreadable expression on his face. Pavel waits, and waits; he finds he's forgotten how to breathe, he's so nervous.
But all McCoy says, when he finally finds something to say, is, "Come to my quarters tonight and we can talk about this then. I really can't right now."
"No, but you can," Pavel insists, jumping around to the front of McCoy's desk when he tries to turn away from him. "It is really very simple, Doctor. Zere is not'ing to discuss. Only somet'ing you can tell me or somet'ing you cannot."
McCoy's eyes narrow and Pavel watches his hands clench and unclench, quick, against the table. He stares at Pavel like a stare could break him. Then he asks, "What do you want me to tell you, Ensign? What do you want me to do?" He speaks as if he were calling a bluff. Pavel puts his hands flat on the table and leans in.
"Just as I said, Doctor. Tell me zat you vill be in a real relationship wit me. Tell me zat ve are not only about sex."
Again he waits. As he watches, Dr. McCoy's face softens, and he bites his lip and looks at Pavel and instead of seeming angry, mostly now he just looks sorry. He looks sorry for Pavel. This is somehow worse than seeing him angry because before he could pretend to hate him, and now he's just reminded of all the reasons he feels so empty and alone when the Doctor leaves his room in the middle of the night. Pavel finds he can't keep his face impassive either, anymore.
The moment stretches and then breaks, and then McCoy turns away from him again; for a second or two his face is hidden and then he looks back and it's hard and cruel again like Pavel's never seen it before. "A relationship between us would be impossible, Ensign. I thought you understood that."
He speaks like the conversation is over, but Pavel follows him around his desk again, so he's standing between the Doctor's chair and the door. "Vhy?" he demands.
"Because we are," he hesitates, frustrated. "Because we're incompatible."
"Incompatible? Like I am not good enough for you?" He asks this and his voice gets a bit high and almost screechy.
"Hey, now I didn't say that," McCoy bites back. "Don't put words in my mouth. You're nineteen, Chekov, and I'm thirty-three and—"
"Oh so zis is about age?" His voice is much too loud this time and McCoy shushes him but he doesn't care. He just takes a step forward, closes that awful void of space between them, and asks, his voice low and trembling now, accusing, "Tell me vhy it is not okay for someone your age to date a teenager but it is perfectly acceptable to fuck him?"
McCoy's face is red and he looks, for just a second, like he might reach out and slap Pavel right then, or maybe even punch him, but he doesn't. He doesn't say anything, just grips the arms of his chair until his knuckles turn white. Pavel can see a tick in his jaw where he's grinding his teeth shut.
He steps forward again, and leans forward over McCoy with his own hands on the arms of the Doctor's chair. He doesn't even know what he's doing anymore, doesn't feel like he's controlling his own actions or devising his own words. He's just running with each impulse, doing what he damn feels like, whatever seems right in the moment. He's closer to McCoy than they've ever been outside the safety of his quarters.
"Do you remember," he asks now, "zat night I vas drunk, and I told you I vould let you fuck me if you vanted to? You said you did not take advantage of drunk people. Vell maybe I have not been drunk during any of our encounters, but Dr. McCoy you have still been taking advantage of me."
McCoy seems scared at first, for a few seconds, or maybe guilty, but with Pavel still leaning close over him he masks his face yet again and insists, "Everything between us was consensual, Chekov, don't try to tell me it wasn't."
"I am not saying it vas not consensual," Pavel answers, but that's all he answers. He' s tired of this. He has all the answer he needs and he knows his control will crack any second so he straightens again and begins to move back toward the door. McCoy doesn't say anything more, doesn't try to argue or stop him. But still Pavel wants to make everything clear so before he leaves he turns around again and says, "Please do not come to my room again, Doctor. I am busy for ze next four years."
x
His legs take him all the way back to his quarters before they give out and he's crumpled down on the floor of his room, back against the door. He cries but not because he's upset, or angry, or because he regrets anything. He's just shaking all over from nerves, all of him so tense during that conversation and now it's all over and there's nothing else to do but let it out. It's over. And it's better this way, it is, but he still feels terrible, and he wishes he could lie to himself and say he has no idea why.
