But… and Other Fine Words of Hidden Doubt
Part Two

Greg was standing in front of him, but it really wasn't the Greg Nick knew and loved. This was… a monster, a horror that could only be found lurking around a cemetery in the dead of night.

Was that him screaming in disgust and terror? Nick could feel his body seizing up, but he couldn't stop staring.

Greg was absolutely drenched in blood. His torn up clothes were unrecognizable under the grime. Greg's beautiful locks were falling out, deep gashes sliced into his scalp. Blood was pouring from his black and blue nose, his eyes also trickling the red liquid.

Greg opened his mouth and Nick could see he was missing many teeth, and more blood ran out the side of his mouth and down his chin.

Nick could feel his stomach lurch. He was going to be sick.

This couldn't have happened.

"I did this for you, Nick. I did this so you wouldn't leave me," Greg shrieked at him, blood spraying Nick's face.

Greg took another step towards him, then crumpled to the floor, his body twisting at an impossible angle. His head slammed the ground and he stirred no more.

"GREG!" Nick screamed, his voice cracking from the strain.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

He was going to throw up.

He had to call an ambulance.

Please God, don't let him be dead.

It was his fault if he was dead.

"Greg!"

His own scream woke him up. In a wild panic, Nick jumped up from the couch, his heart beating painfully fast in his chest.

"Greg?" Panting, Nick raced into the kitchen. No blood. No Greg on the floor.

Dropping to his knees at the place where Greg had fallen, he scoured the floor. No trace of anything.

Nick pushed his back up against the counter, his terror rapidly changing to tears. He tried to tell himself it was just a dream, that it had never happened, but the tears still continued to flow out of him.

It had looked so real. The fear he had felt as he gazed at the younger man had consumed him.

The image of the blood drenched and broken Greg swam in front of his eyes and Nick retched, turning to his right as the vomit hit the tile. He coughed, trying to get the sour taste out of his mouth. He couldn't stop sobbing.

He heard a key jingling in the lock at the front door, then he heard the door open. The person stopped abruptly, listening to Nick's crying, then…

"Nick? Nick, are you okay?" Greg asked, rushing into the kitchen and kneeling in front of him. Greg's face was blurred, but he could still make out the concern there.

"Oh God Nick, I need to get you to a hospital," Greg said, his voice anxious.

"No, I'm okay Greg," Nick croaked, wiping his eyes. His cheek stung, but he ignored it.

"Nick, you are NOT okay!" Greg cried, close to hysteria.

"No, I swear I'm okay," Nick told him, coughing. "Can you help me up?"

Greg rushed forward and grasped the Texan's hands, pulling him to his feet. The world flashed around Nick, making him feel as if he was going to puke again.

Greg led Nick to the couch in the living room and sat him down. Greg then sat directly across from him on the coffee table, Nick's hands still in his own.

"Nick," Greg whispered, his face pale, "what the hell happened?"

Nick sighed and took a deep breath. "I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare about what?"

"You… you had… you had injured yourself because you thought I was going to leave you," Nick forced out. It hurt to think about the dream.

Greg was silent, his eyes not portraying an emotion.

"Were you thinking of leaving me, Nick? This was about me… me losing control, wasn't it?" Greg asked softly.

"I… I don't know, Greg. I just… I can't be here, seeing you self-destruct in front of me, especially when I can't help you," Nick told him in an undertone.

Greg shook his head and leaned back, his hands still holding Nick's firmly.

"I don't know what made me do it," he said, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "I didn't want to hear anymore about my… my mom, though. I want to be done thinking about her, but I can't. I just can't!"

Greg's body started to shake, tears sneaking out from behind his eyelids and trickling down his cheeks.

"Greg," Nick murmured gently, stroking his fingers, "the only way to move on is to talk about it."

Greg's eyes opened, the dark irises almost black.

"It hurts," he muttered, sniffling.

A flash of the dream Greg floated in front of Nick's eyes, but he forced it back. He would deal with that eventually, but there was a problem that was long overdue to be rectified.

"It always does, Greg. It's part of the healing process."

"I want to be done hurting."

"Then please," Nick pleaded, "talk to me."

Greg shut his eyes for a moment and Nick could see the younger man's body trembling.

Greg swallowed deeply, then opened his eyes. "I don't think I'm ready, but I will."

Nick nodded in understanding. "I don't think anyone ever is, Greg. I don't think anyone ever is."