Author's Note: Man, I'm totally getting into this whole Jason POV thing, aren't I? Oh wells…it's fun and interesting. I think I'm really getting the hang of him, but he's really tricky. Anyway, I'm working on something that isn't Jason's POV, so you won't have to read any more of this stuff for a bit…if I ever finish anything (this one was a total fluke that I got the time to finish it…) Anyway, this is short and angsty. Yay angst.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just like before. It will never change…boo…

The worst thing in the world is being rejected by the person you love most in the world. And the most horrible part is that I know a lot more about how Peter must have felt when I told him it was over; although I can imagine this is just a sliver of that.

I hurt him beyond all belief.

I can't make it better now. No matter how hard I try.

An open wound is just that; time won't heal this.

The drug goes down easily. A dose this lethal should not be as easy as this was. And I wonder how long until it takes effect.

I know why he wouldn't run away with me before the words were even out of his mouth. Peter has never been the avoider I have. He doesn't want to run anymore, but I don't know what else to do.

I'm going to die, but I have to say it to him before I do.

It's my pride that kept me from saying it before now. I'm Jason McConnell, I don't love; especially not another boy. Which is wrong, because I do love him, and I always have. All this time spent pretending that it wasn't like that, that I didn't love him…all this time that I have been lying to myself…I can't handle it any longer, and I don't want to.

I pull him aside right before show starts, looking at him, seeing the internal struggle behind his eyes. Peter always has been easy to read…at least, he's always been easy to read for me. Maybe it's because I know everything about him…everything from how he ties his shoes (with the little bunny ears) to how he looks naked (won't go into that one), to the exact shade of his eyes (melted milk chocolate brown). I know everything, and I know how to read him.

And he knows everything about me.

As much as I have tried to avoid this fact, to pretend that it's not true, I know. But he doesn't realize this, because I told him that it wasn't so. I "proved" that he didn't know everything about me. That's not so, I was just pretending he didn't know me. When really, he knows me better than anyone else in the world.

"Wait…"

Peter looks at me expectantly.

And I spill it all.

I'm not sure whether I'm getting my point across to him or not, but I think I am if I can judge by his response. But this is too hard for him, I can see it in his eyes. Speaking over each other, I realize that I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have taken the drug. I can feel my insides twisting. That means I don't have much time left.

I look at him.

Here it comes.

The look on his face when I tell him that I love him is enough to show me that he still loves me. That nothing could ever change that. I wonder if my death will change that, but I still don't say anything. Not even as I hold out my arms and he runs to me, making everything right as I hold him…as I kiss him.

The show starts.

My insides hurt.

It all hurts.

I can't figure out what I'm doing.

Where I am.

But Peter's face stands out in the blurry mass that everyone else has become. I reach for him, one last time, and I can see him rushing to me, holding me.

And suddenly I am comfortable, right where I belong, now and forever.