Ted sat alone on his couch – the relentless afternoon sun wreaking havoc on his tired eyes as it cascaded through his living room window. Though the light nearly blinded him, his gaze remained focused intently on the black duffle bag he had dropped just inside his apartment door. He hadn't unpacked upon checking in to rehab, nor since arriving home, and now, his whole pathetic little life was in that bag, sitting there by the door like a symbol of his transient state, mocking him.

It had been twelve hours since he checked out of rehab – twelve hours of freedom from those lifeless faces and the unbearable silence, and yet Ted felt more trapped outside of the turquoise walls than he ever had within them. He had expected to find relief upon coming home -some sense of calm, some sense of familiarity – but everything that should have felt familiar felt foreign and there was no relief to be found.

A few hours earlier, Emmett had come to his apartment to collect some of his things, no doubt expecting to find it empty, while its owner was busy getting the help he so desperately needed. Instead, Emmett found the scruffy, dark-haired man at home, sulking, hunched over on the sofa.

Ted began by using light-hearted remarks to explain his sudden emergence from rehab, joking that they might as well put in a drive through window for those who preferred a lightning fast ride through the recovery process. But soon the jokes gave way to despair and before long, familiar words of bleakness and gloom were pouring from Ted's mouth, greeting Emmett's ears, which had grown far too accustomed to his ranting. "It's too late. I'm beyond repair. I have nothing – no future, no friends, no job, no lover. What's the point? I might as well be dead".

Ordinarily, when faced with Ted's sorrow, Emmett would attempt to lift his spirits, despite the fact that his efforts were often made in vain. This time though, Emmett's reaction was different, for the past few months living under the dark cloud of Ted's addiction had nearly destroyed him, and now there were no kind words left to offer. "Then do it", he barked. "Go on. kill yourself. You'd be doing us all a favour. And feel free to scream as loud as you want - because nobody's listening!"

Each word punctured Ted's skin and latched itself to his heart, their combined weight causing his body to sink deeper and deeper into the sofa, so much so that he could barely lift his head to watch as his best friend and lover stormed out of the apartment. Yet, in some small way, the weight and agonizing sting of Emmett's words felt like a relief - a richly deserved punishment for everything he had done and said while immersed in meth's glamorous, yet artificial utopia.

Now, having sat on his sofa for nearly two hours, watching as his fingers twitched and feeling his empty stomach gurgle with nausea, he came to the bitter realization that he was truly alone. The one person in his life whom he had always been able to count on had finally given up. This time, he was indeed beyond repair, with nothing and no one willing to save him from himself. But maybe it was better this way, Ted thought. Alone. This way, no one would be dragged down with him. He would be the sole victim of his own misery. But just how far was he willing to sink?

Soon he found himself kneeling next to a toilet, a regrettably common occurrence. He wasn't sure how it was possible to vomit so many times on an empty stomach, but alas, bile kept rising to his throat. He pulled himself to his feet and opened the vanity cabinet, searching for his toothbrush, eager to get the foul, acidic taste out of his mouth. But his eyes stopped as he spotted a tiny bottle of pills – painkillers he had been prescribed for a recent back injury.

He stood there for a moment, transfixed, staring at the bottle. He heard Emmett's voice reverberate in his head: "Go on – kill yourself! You'd be doing us all a favour!" Had he been thinking clearly, he would have known that Emmett wasn't serious, just angry, frustrated, and unbelievably hurt. But Ted wasn't thinking clearly. He wasn't thinking at all.

He grabbed the bottle and turned it upside down so he could see inside, and he discovered that there were more than enough tablets left to offer him the sweet escape he desired. His end was at his fingertips. No more nausea, no more shaking hands, no more highs and lows, no more voices. Nothing.

Ted's eyes clouded with tears as he stared at the bottle in his hand – a hand which began to shake once more with the tremors of withdrawal. He escaped the bathroom and headed back to the sofa, pill bottle in hand. He took a seat in those same grooves and opened the bottle, pouring its contents onto the glass top of the coffee table in front of him. He marvelled for a moment at the tiny tablets, each one no larger than the end of a pencil, yet when combined, they would bring him to a peaceful and eternal sleep. It was a sleep he craved. He was ready to close his eyes and float away.

He began to imagine death as a warm embrace, far gentler than the cold, suffocating grip of his addiction. This thought provided comfort, keeping him focused on his impending end until a knock at the door interrupted his fatal mission. At first, the sound of knuckles colliding with the hard surface was a distant echo, no competition for the task he had set out to complete. Seconds later though, a familiar voice broke through the bleakness of his thoughts with striking clarity.

"Ted?"

The sound of his own name catapulted him into reality, his eyes flickering to the door and his body to freezing in place. He sat motionless, wedged in the grooves of his sofa, unsure of what to do.

"It's Blake", Ted heard the man say, but that he already knew.

Without stopping to think, Ted used his hand to slide the pills from the coffee table into their container and hurried to the bathroom as they rattled against the sides of the thick orange plastic. He put the bottle into the vanity cabinet and slammed its door shut, stopping to stare himself in the mirror for a brief moment. He took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face and through his hair, doing his best to mask any external signs of his internal misery.

Another knock and Ted rushed to the door, his hand still shaking as it grasped the silver handle.

As the door opened, Blake let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Hey! I don't think I've ever been more relieved to see you."

Ted was overwhelmed by the sight of him, the blond man's enthusiastic smile filling him with a sharp and stabbing sense of guilt. He had become so lost in his hazy, sleep-deprived darkness that he had failed to consider the far reaching consequences of his actions. He had failed to consider the counsellor who had arrived at work that morning expecting to see his face.

A sudden need to explain his disappearance swept over him. "Listen I-"

"Look, I just want you to know, I'm not angry." Blake interrupted, taking a deep breath as if to steady himself. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

Ted was stunned and silenced by the man's words. He hadn't expected Blake to turn up at all, but now that he had, Ted fully expected him to be furious. He should have been furious, but instead he just stood there exuding that same sense of warmth he had as he strolled through the halls of the rehab clinic.

"Hey, are you hungry?" he with a hesitant smile, holding up a brown paper bag in his right hand. "It's only a sandwich."

Ted instantly forgot about his nausea as he stared at the bag in Blake's hand. "Um, yeah…come…come in", he stuttered.

He watched as Blake entered the apartment and proceeded to gaze at the familiar confines of his home. "You can have a seat if you want. I'll grab some plates" the blond said, taking on the role of host rather than guest.

Ted was baffled. "You know where the-"

"Assuming you haven't changed anything since the last time I was here" Blake said with a gentle, closed-mouthed smile.

"You know me, creature of habit" Ted admitted, doing his best to force a bit of light-heartedness before taking a seat as Blake suggested.

"Maybe not" Blake raised his eyebrow. "New appliances, I see?"

"Hmm?" Ted murmured. He noticed his hands shaking again and squeezed them firmly between his knees.

"Your appliances – they look new", Blake repeated.

"Oh yeah!" Ted exclaimed, his voice a little too loud. "My old stove broke, so I just replaced everything."

"Well, it looks great" Blake said earnestly, as yet another closed-mouthed smile crossed his face. "I was always amazed at how you kept - keep everything so tidy."

"It's always been my routine, I suppose." Ted shrugged his shoulders just slightly.

"I guess being a creature of habit does have its perks" Blake playfully pointed out, this time with a full, gleaming smile on his face. He opened the cupboard to the left of the fridge, and promptly found the plates in their usual spot, on a shelf just beneath the mugs and glasses.

Ted looked on from the sofa, watching the young man move about the kitchen as if it was his own.

Blake turned toward him holding two large white plates in his right hand. As he did, his expression faltered slightly and he began to stare with that deeply intuitive counselor gaze. "Ted, are you alright?" he asked, his playfully light voice deepening with concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I'm just a bit…foggy. Haven't slept much" Ted replied lightheartedly, doing his best to erase the penetrating gaze from Blake's face and the worried expression from his own.

Blake nodded, a look of understanding filling his eyes as he headed cover to the couch where Ted was sitting. "These one's okay?" He held up two large white plates before taking a seat to Ted's left.

"Sure, yeah." Ted cleared his throat as Blake's sudden closeness brought waves of tension into tired and achy muscles. The weight of Blake's body on the couch next to him, the scent of his skin, the touch of his shoulder as it brushed up against his own. It was all too real.

Blake began unwrapping the sandwich he had carefully covered in plastic wrap that morning. "Hope turkey's okay."

"It's…great" Ted could barely speak. All he could do was stare at the sandwich as Blake placed one half of it on each plate. The bread looked fresh, nothing was overflowing from its edges, and the halves were equally sized. It was the most perfect sandwich he had ever seen. So much so that looking at it was almost painful.

He felt nothing but guilt. Guilt because it was perfect. Guilt because this was perfect. And he didn't deserve any of it. What he deserved was to be punished. That was what he wanted. "Look, Blake, I really appreciate this – you coming all the way here and everything…" Ted eyes were still focused on the perfectly formed sandwich on his plate.

"It's no problem" Blake assured him, before picking up his half of the sandwich with both hands. "This definitely beats eating alone in my office."

"But…" Ted sighed. "If you're suppressing some kind of rant. You don't have to, okay? I can take it."

"What?" Blake held his sandwich in midair as a genuinely bewildered expression came across his face.

"I mean, you didn't come all the way here just to eat lunch, did you? You don't have to keep dancing around the subject", Ted urged in a flat, deflated voice. "Go on, tell me I'm crazy for leaving, tell me to get my ass back there, tell me I-"

Blake took a deep breath and placed the uneaten sandwich back down on his plate. "Hey, hey…Look you're right, I didn't come here just to eat lunch, but I didn't come here to yell at you either. Like I said, I'm not angry."

"Besides…" he continued, "I'm guessing you're already pretty angry at yourself."

Ted dropped his gaze to the floor as the truth in Blake's words nearly crushed him.

But, I- ", Blake began, carefully approaching the subject of rehab. "I do want you to know that if you're uncomfortable having me as your counsellor – well one, that's totally understandable and two, we can easily put you under someone else's care, in someone else's group. Or if you'd rather go to a different facility entirely – we could arrange tha-"

"No, no. It's not that", Ted assured him. "Trust me, if you hadn't been there…I mean, I was ready to turn around and walk out the minute I came in the front door. Still, you think I could have lasted at least 24 hours."

"Well, you lasted a whole lot longer than I did the first time around", Blake reminded him. "And believe me, you're not the first person to check out of rehab a little early."

"A little early?" Ted quipped.

"Okay, a lot early", Blake admitted. "Still, there's no need to feel embarrassed."

Ted smiled weakly. "I didn't know counsellors made emergency house calls."

"Well, to be fair, no one really knows I'm here. It's my lunch hour. I sort of snuck out. And lucky for me, I know where you live, so you can't get away that easy" Blake said with a slight grin.

"Believe me, it's not you I was running from" Ted said earnestly. He never could run from Blake, only towards him.

Blake paused for a moment, lowered his head and smiled to himself just slightly. "So, what were you…running from, I mean?" he asked, his tone becoming more serious as he looked back up at Ted.

Ted sighed deeply. Though he was running from a number of things, one thing in particular outweighed them all. "The silence", he admitted, wincing as he did at the stupidity of his own answer.

Blake looked puzzled. "Silence?"

"Nothing. Nevermind." Ted waved his hand in front of his face as if trying to physically erase his answer. "Actually…I guess I was running to something", he said, attempting come up with something that sounded a bit less absurd.

"Oh." Blake lowered his head once more and nodded.

Ted instantly regretted his new answer even more than his old one. "Oh no, I didn't mean the crystal", he quickly explained. "I just mean…you know…the comforts of home more than anything. My own bed, my own couch, my own life. Like I said, creature of habit."

"Well, I'll be the first to admit, rehab isn't exactly homey", Blake confirmed. "They try and spruce it up with a few paintings and flowers and things, but I know, it's not the same, is it?"

Ted shook his head in agreement. He could feel the young blond staring at him intently, that same deeply intuitive counselor gaze returning to his face.

"Ted, are you sure you're alright?" the blond asked, as if looking directly into his soul.

Ted swallowed. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just tired, really", he muttered unconvincingly.

"It's just…you seem a little…frazzled, that's all" Blake said politely, clearly unsure if he should press any further. "…Look, if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. I may not be here to yell, but I am here to listen."

Suddenly, Ted felt a pain in his stomach, as Blake's kindness brought with it the sting of Emmett's words. "Go on kill yourself. You'd be doing us all a favour. And feel free to scream as loud as you want, because nobody's listening!"

During his first group session, Ted had been virtually unable to speak – paralyzed by the weary faces and judgemental gazes of his fellow addicts. Though Blake had been sitting at his side then, being with him now felt different. They were alone and he finally had the listening ear he had been longing for.

Ted looked up at Blake, the blond man's gentle gaze prompted him to reveal more than he had intended. "It's just…" he began, "Now that I'm back here – all this doesn't even feel like mine – the apartment, I mean. Everything."

"Everything?" Blake repeated.

"I don't know", Ted lamented. "It's just that all of a sudden I don't even feel comfortable in my own home, in my own skin."

"Well, you've only been back here for a few hours", Blake reminded him.

"And then I start thinking, well, what if I do go back…to rehab, I mean – let's say I make it through somehow. Then where am I? Back here. I already feel like a stranger in my own home, in my own life. So what then? What if my life goes on without me and there's no room for me in it?"

"Well, when that time comes – and it will come - you'll need to find something that makes you happy. Something familiar", Blake added.

"That's the problem though. I don't have anything. No job, no friends, no – no lover. Nothing", Ted declared, repeating the very same speech he had recited to Emmett a few hours earlier.

"I'm sure that's not true. I mean, the job thing will sort itself out when you're ready. And what about Michael? And Emmett!" Blake exclaimed, desperate to inject some hope into Ted's bleak thoughts.

"Emmett." Ted repeated the name under his breath.

"What?" Blake asked.

"Let's just say he wasn't exactly pleased to see me this morning." Ted sighed. "He had his say and then he stormed out of here. Haven't seen or heard from him since."

"He was probably just shocked to see you", Blake assured him.

"He hates me", Ted said flatly.

"How could he hate you?" Blake asked in disbelief. "He might hate me - that I understand. But he'd never hate you."

"Yeah well, you didn't hear the things he said. He made it pretty clear he never wants to see my face again." Ted told him. "Not that I can blame him after what I said to him, the things I did to him -"

"Listen", Blake said, interrupting before Ted could continue any further down his usual self-deprecating path. "Whatever it was he said, I'm sure he didn't mean it. He was probably just frustrated. You know Emmett, he's…dramatic. Now that he's gotten whatever it was out of his system, I'm sure you and he will work things out."

"Well, I wish I shared your optimism" Ted said bluntly.

"To be honest, that part is always a struggle - the transition, I mean. Getting back to your life", Blake confessed.

Ted nodded. "It's just…" he paused. "Sometimes I wonder if my life is even worth coming back to."

"Of course it is", Blake said firmly. A clear sense of worry was beginning to creep into his voice.

"Is it though? I mean, I was never really happy. Not really. I never really liked who I was. That's how I got myself into this mess. Why would I want to go back to that? And sure, I might be able to surround myself with familiar things, familiar people. But in the end, I'll still be alone. Nothing's going to change." Ted paused to let out a large breath of air. "Maybe I'm just beyond repair, huh?" he asked, masking his true despair with an obligatory chuckle.

"Nobody's beyond repair", Blake declared, refusing to go along with Ted's forced light-heartedness. "Least of all you."

Ted lowered his head and forced a smile though his eyes were beginning to fill with tears. "It's just…sometimes I wish I could be someone else, you know? Leave it all behind." His voice was thick with emotion and it cracked against his will.

"Someone else?" Blake asked gently.

"Yeah." Ted confirmed.

"Like who exactly?"

"I don't know…" Ted took a lengthy pause. "Just someone…not like me."

Blake nearly cringed at the harsh simplicity of Ted's words. "That could be anyone. There's only one you."

"Thank God for that", Ted said bitterly. He pressed his palms against his eyes. "I don't know. I just want to be someone…someone like Brian, I guess."

"Kinney?" Blake asked, the man's last name suddenly springing forth from his memory. "Brian Kinney? That's who you want to be?"

"Well, yeah. Sometimes I just wonder what it would feel like to live like that, you know? No apologies, no regrets, no stupid irrational fears. I mean, who's afraid silence, really? That's got to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"It's not dumb at all" Blake urged with the utmost sincerity. "And just so you know, Brian will never be as fearless as you are."

Ted scoffed, laughing to himself though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "My entire life runs on a schedule, okay? Without it, I'm lost. I mean, look at me. You said yourself I looked frazzled."

"That's not what I- anyone in your situation would be a little frazzled", Blake assured him.

"Yeah, but I'm not anyone, am I? I mean, I might as well be a robot for Christ's sake. The last time I took a risk was in 1985. My clothes are colour coded, okay? I've been going to the same diner for nine years, nine, and I eat the same thing every single time."

"Not today" Blake countered, gesturing towards the sandwich which still sat uneaten on the two plates in front of them. "And so what? Look, you think Brian's fearless because he struts around the way he does? Because he gets all the guys? Because what? Because he says what he wants and gets away with it?"

"Precisely" Ted said flatly.

"Well, he's not." Blake's tone was completely serious. "Look, I may not know him as well as you do, but I do know that deep down, he's terrified. He's terrified of connection - real connection, of needing anything or anyone. So he-"

"Okay well, that I know, but-", Ted interrupted.

"Just, let me finish", Blake insisted. "So he struts around like he has everything. But really he just doesn't have the guts to let anyone get too close. So he puts walls up, because he'd rather appear invincible than admit his own weakness. And you know what? That's not tough, and it's definitely not fearless. You are fearless. You're the most fearless person I've ever known. Because you don't let fear stop you from loving people. You look for reasons to love them, instead of reasons to push them away. That takes guts. You have no walls. And no matter how many times you get hurt, you never put walls up. Because unlike Brian Kinney, you are not afraid to let yourself be vulnerable – that's fearless."

Ted closed his eyes as Blake's words met his ears, but the blond continued. "And if you have a flaw…" he said, leaning in a little closer "…and trust me, it's tough to find one because you're pretty darn amazing – it isn't fear. It's that you don't believe in yourself the same way you believe in other people. And it breaks my heart, because if you believed in yourself half as much as you believed in me, there'd be no stopping you. And for once, maybe you wouldn't be so blind to how absolutely incredible you are."

Ted exhaled loudly before whipping away the tears that had escaped from beneath his eyelids and tumbled down his cheeks as Blake spoke. Over the years, countless people had tried to talk Ted out of misery, but none were ever fully successful. Though their words were undoubtedly heartfelt, they always contained an undercurrent of frustration, as if they couldn't understand why Ted wasn't able to just snap out of it. But this - this was the first time anyone had actually listened to him – really truly listened, instead of simply waiting for his ranting to be over.

Moments later, Blake got up from the sofa and soon, Ted spotted a box of tissues in his peripheral vision.

"You know where those are too?" Ted quipped through his tears, taking a couple of tissues from the box.

Blake simply smiled, placed the tissue on the coffee table, and took a seat next to Ted once again.

"You really believe all that, huh?" Ted asked, laughing at just how weepy he'd become.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't" Blake said earnestly. "I mean, do you know how much courage it takes to do what you've already done. You should be proud."

"Proud", Ted repeated with a deflated sense of disbelief.

"Proud that you had enough courage to ask for help - and you still do. You did it once and you can do it again", Blake assured him.

Ted shook his head. "I can't."

"Yeah, said that once too." Blake reminded him.

Ted could still feel the chill of winter air at his back and the soft blond strands of hair curled amongst his fingers. He could still hear the man's voice as it crept from between his slightly parted lipsand he could still see the way his forehead wrinkled as he tried to force the words out with more power than his weakened state would allow - I can't.

"…Thankfully, you convinced me otherwise" the blond man said with a soft smile. "So I guess I'm here to return the favour and convince you that you cantoo."

Ted lowered his head as the young man's light blue eyes gazed at him with a remarkable sincerity.

"Look, I'm not going to tell you it'll be easy", Blake admitted. "Because the truth is, it won't be. It's tough – physically, mentally, emotionally –"

"Sounds fantastic", Ted quipped sarcastically, before whipping the remaining tears from his cheeks.

"But, it will get easier – you will get there - with time, with patience, with a little hope", Blake assured. "Don't do what I did. Don't run. Because it's okay to need people. That's why rehab clinics exist."

"Speaking of which…I am going to have to get back to work eventually." Blake glanced down at his watch. "Only I'm not going to leave you on this sofa - not like this" he confessed, staring intently at Ted's tear-stained cheeks and tired eyes. "Look, you wouldn't have to go to group today or anything, just –"

Ted took a deep breath and let a single word fall from his mouth. "Okay."

"Okay?" Blake repeated.

"Okay, I'll come with you. I'll go back." Ted could hardly believe what he was saying, and yet, something within him yearned to say it.

Blake's eyes lit up. "You sure?"

Ted nodded just slightly and began to emerge from the grooves of his sofa when Blake stopped him. "We still have a few minutes if you want to eat some of that sandwich. Not that I'll be offended if you don't."

Ted stared at the sandwich halves, which still sat perfectly formed on the two plates in front of them. He wasn't at all hungry, but he was unsure of how to turn down such a beautifully prepared meal.

"Say no more", Blake interjected. The exhausted and uncertain look on Ted's face told him everything. "I'll just wrap this back up, give these plates a rinse, and we can head out."

Blake used the leftover cling film sitting on the coffee table to cover the uneaten lunch. He left Ted standing next to the sofa as he headed over to the kitchen, plates in hand, turning on the water as he reached the sink.

Having washed the plates and set them on the counter to dry, Blake headed back to living room to join Ted. "Do you have your stuff?"

Ted walked over and picked up the black duffle bag he had left sitting by the door. "Still haven't unpacked."

"Oh…is there anything extra you want to bring, more clothes maybe?", Blake asked.

Ted shook his head and remained silent. He knew he had already packed more than enough.

"Alright. Well then I guess we're both heading in the same direction", Blake said with genuine enthusiasm.

Ted was hesitant but offered a brief closed-mouthed smile and nodded.

"Here, I'll take this" Blake said, lifting the duffle bag from Ted's hand. "My car's parked just out front."

"You first…" Blake said, moving his hand toward the door.

But Ted just stood there motionless for a moment as his eyes flickered to the bright and encouraging expression on Blake's face. Without thinking, he stepped forward and put his arms around the blond man who stood stunned and motionless, encircled in his arms. Ted didn't know what to say. There was nothing he could say that would adequately express his gratitude, but he voiced a simple "thank you". As the words left his mouth, tears formed beneath his eyelids and his grip around Blake's body tightened.

The young man dropped the duffel bag from his right hand, freeing his arms so they could embrace Ted fully. "No need to thank me", he said softly, lightly placing one hand on the back of Ted's neck and draping the other across his back. He closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Ted had forgotten what it felt like to be held with such warmth and care. Under the spell of his addiction, he had let men touch him, grope him, and claw at his flesh – strangers, who cared little about the gentle soul beneath his skin. And then there was Blake, who held him together as he was falling part. Who held him long enough and with enough gentleness that he began to feel whole again.

Less than an hour ago, he had been ready to die, to leave the body that had become him his prison. And now, he savored each breath of air as it filled his lungs and each beat of his heart as it thundered inside his chest. What he savoured most though, was what it felt like to smile as he clung to the man who had unknowingly saved his life.