Eric didn't know when it happened, but he couldn't consider the rest of his life without Jack in it. Even before they'd begun this relationship that Jack refused to name, he'd held the belief that Jack would remain in his life in some context. And now that he wasn't, well Eric just didn't know what to do with himself.

Before Jack got hurt, Eric spent his days worrying about whether or not Jack had eaten or slept. Whether he made it to school okay or was pushing himself too hard. He used to end every class by rushing into the hallway to call home to see if Jack was there instead of in class. It was a nervous habit that became ritualized after Jack's worst attack caused him to stay home as much as sensibly possible.

It was one of the worst days of Eric's life. The night before, Eric had spent hours watching Jack sleep, the tense expression on his face smoothed out into almost juvenile openness. And he'd felt lulled into the belief that maybe it would get better, this anxiety that had taken to fully encompassing their lives. Maybe he wouldn't have to rush home every day to make sure Jack hadn't thrown away the food Eric had left him. Maybe he wouldn't have to keep making excuses to everyone as to why they couldn't make it to lunch or dinner parties. He'd started to picture what it would be like to be able to simply hold Jack in his arms through the night instead of being woken up at four in the morning so that Jack could finish the rest of his coursework.

He came home the next day, slightly confident he wouldn't find Jack near panic at the table they used for school work. Instead, he found Jack flushed and gasping for breath in a ball on the floor. Littered around him in small piles were what looked like bills and receipts. The phone lay broken into pieces a few feet away. And Eric had just stood there in the doorway, unable to move. He watched Jack start to become more and more desperate until he finally was able to leave the apartment. Eric hurried next door to the Young's apartment and banged on their door rapidly.

"Mrs. Young! It's Eric Matthews, I have an emergency! I need to use your phone!" He yelled, becoming more and more anxious with the lack of sounds Jack was making.

She'd come running to the door, hair in disarray and phone in her hand. He'd snatched it from her hands and called the nearest hospital, requesting an ambulance. She waited until he'd finished, following him back to the apartment. "Oh my God." She hurried to Jack's side, lifting his head. "What's wrong with him?"

Eric wanted to tell the truth, just once to someone else, but he knew Jack would never forgive him. "Asthma. He lost his inhaler and when I got here, he was too far gone to tell me where the emergency one is." She bought it and started rubbing soothing circles into Jack's back. By the time the paramedics arrived, Jack had calmed enough to open his eyes. Even the thankful nod in Eric's direction wasn't enough to change how he felt.

He lied again for Jack and for the first time he truly felt guilty.

He remembers being in the hospital waiting room praying not for Jack to be okay but for him to have something bad enough this time that they'd keep him overnight. Just one night. Long enough for him to slow down, get a decent meal in him and take a breath. One night was all Eric needed to try to get Jack to see what he was doing to himself, to Eric by extension. He'd curled up on that plastic bench and prayed for a doctor motherly enough to sign Jack in for the night. And when the tall, greying doctor met him in the hallway with the AMA release form, he'd lost what little faith he had. Still, he'd picked himself up and went in to take Jack home all the while knowing he'd go right back to what he was doing the second he got back.

Jack literally runs into the Matthews at the grocery store. Amy and Allen are shopping for a welcome back dinner for Topanga and they were arguing over the right spice to use on the chicken when Jack ran into Amy. He was apologizing profusely before he even realized what happened. He was lost in his head over the phone call he'd had with his mother.

"Oh, hey Mr. and Mrs. Matthews." He grinned bright, hoping it more than made up for how this he'd become. There was thin and there was skeletal and he knew enough to know that he was quickly approaching the second category.

"Oh please, how many times do we have to tell you: it's Amy and Allen." Allen started, reaching out to clap Jack on the back. "How've you been son? I heard you got your own place."

"Uh, yeah." He scratched at his ear nervously. He wasn't sure if they had any ill feelings towards him for the way things had ended with Eric. "My parents got me an apartment. Sort of a reward for getting… better so quickly. It's not far from our old… from Eric's place. Uh, how is he?"

Amy pursed her lips, hearing so many words left unsaid in the exchange. "He's fine. He's good. School's going well and he's learning how to fend for himself. I think it was good for both of you to live apart for a while."

That stung, Jack had to admit. "You think we were too close."

She shook her head and pet Allen on the shoulder. "Allen, could you go get the milk." He gave her an odd look but went off anyway, confused. Returning to Jack and laid it out for him. "Most people don't start dating someone they already have to share rent with." At the slight surprise on his face, she smiled. "I'm not blind; I know about your relationship with my son. I know that this break between you too has a lot more to do with your hearts than any 'space' issues with the apartment. Eric refuses to go into it and whenever we call, he's always on his way out like he can't spend more than a minute at home."

Jack brightened a bit at that. "He misses me?"

At that, Amy smacked him with her grocery list. "Are you kidding? You seriously have to ask?" She shook her head. She could see him starting to get antsy and she took a risk. "Listen, come to dinner tonight. Shawn, Topanga and Cory will be there so if it starts to feel uncomfortable, they can be buffers. What do you say?"

Jack wanted nothing more than to come up with a proper excuse but for once, he didn't have any schoolwork due and he didn't have to be at work tomorrow night. "Why not?"

"So, Topanga, how'd you like California?" Jack asked, doing anything to avoid looking at Eric. Amy had been kind enough to sit him near her end of the long table, as far away from Eric as possible. It had been both a blessing and a curse as he was now able to play off any gaze in Eric's direction as being aimed towards Shawn or Cory but the distance only made him want to be closer. He couldn't make up his mind.

Topanga gladly took the opportunity to banish some of the awkward tension in the room. Not only between Jack and Eric but between Eric and his mother for inviting Jack without consulting him. "It was great. Very sunny and almost everywhere my father took me had the most delicious food. We visited this little taco stand on the corner of his office building with the best salsa I've ever had. I would gladly go back if I managed to find a job there."

Cory took her hand and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "And I would gladly follow you anywhere." The group aww-ed, all except Eric. His eyes dodged the happy couple as he made shape with his peas. Jack tied to figure out why but when Eric looked up he lowered his head, not wanting their eyes to meet. This was a bad idea. He'd known that before and yet he'd agree anyway. Maybe he just liked torturing himself.

"This chicken is delicious Mrs. Matthews." Shawn said, raising his fork.

Allen shook his head and interjected, "I contributed too, buddy. Just like my wife taking all the credit." They laughed and pet each other on the hand and Jack was confronted with just how much he wanted to be them in the future. He wanted pleasant, light-hearted banter. He wanted to be the happy, well-adjusted couple without baggage that followed them into whatever conversation they had.

"So, Jack, where've you been living?" Shawn asked.

"I've been living in the apartment complex on Twenty-Third Street. It's not far from, " he chewed for a second, just long enough for Eric to take notice. "Eric. Not far from Eric."

"On your own? That must be nice." He chuckled. "Hey, you need a roomie, just say the word."

"Thanks, but I'm enjoying living on my own." He responded.

"Seriously?" Eric asked, his fork clattering to his plate. "That's literally five minutes away. You've been five minutes away from me for the last three months. Five fucking minutes."

"Eric!" Amy started, getting to her feet just as Eric threw down his napkin and started up the stairs. When it looked like Amy was going to go after him, jack stood up, placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

"It's okay. I'll go." Jack offered and he was on the stairs before anyone could talk him out of it.

Eric had just opened the closet door when he heard steps on the creaking landing outside his door. He sighed, apology on his tongue. "Look Mom, I'll go apologize. Just give me a minute."

At the sound of Jack's light laugh, he spun around, flushed. "I should hope that I've never reminded you of your mother. With all the sex we've had." He watched as Eric tried to side-step his way in front of the closet. "What's in there?"

He stepped closer and gently pushed Eric aside. His eyes rested on the plastic casing streaked with dried blood. As he came closer, he caught the faint scent of iron and dirt. He gasped as the scent sprung on a memory of that night.

Bright, scalding pain on his chest as his left eye opened on blinding, clinically bright hospital lights. He let out a scream of pain as he tried to move his left arm only to find that it didn't seem attached to his body correctly. His right felt ripped out of its socket and the slightest movement pulled hoarse cries from the pit of his throat. His head was too full and he couldn't breathe without the crushing weight on his chest making him settle for second long bursts of air. He could smell blood and dirt and grass. Anti-septic and the smell of rubber gloves as white and green blurs hovered above him speaking garbled orders at each other. He couldn't stop screaming and the burns on his chest put out a growing scent of burning flesh. He was being pushed somewhere and he couldn't stop it because his every movement jarred the delicate balance keeping his head together and his arms would cause less pain if they were amputated. He felt agony down to his feet and it was a wonder he could even open an eye. He was strapped down somewhere near the burned skin on his body and the nameless blurs weren't paying him any attention.

And still he screamed and he screamed and he screamed.

Until he blacked out for good.

"I woke up that night." Jack said, sinking down onto Eric's bed. "I woke up the night I fell and I could feel everything. God, Eric, it hurt so badly." He wrapped his arms tight around himself and tried to shake the memory.

"Why did you do it, Jack?" Eric asked, sitting down beside him. "You knew I was right there. I begged you to come down, I tried to pull you down myself and you jumped anyway. You didn't care that I would see."

"You weren't supposed to be there." He whispered. "I wasn't supposed to do it that night. I was going to wait until you were home. I was going to give myself to you that night, kiss you and tuck you in and then I was going to..." He left it open because saying it would've been too much. Would've made it more horrifying somehow.

Eric could barely croak out a desolate "What?" before Jack continued.

"It's not pleasant but it's true. I wanted you good and happy with something to hold on to before I ended it. It was never supposed to be an impulsive mess that I failed at."

"Failed at? Jack—"

"No, I have to finish this. I have to tell you." He sniffed and realized that somewhere in the middle, he'd started crying. "Suicide was a crutch, Eric. I told myself that if there ever came a day I couldn't handle the pressure, I'd quit. That night wasn't the first time I'd wanted to. Every time I came close, and God were there some close calls, I'd think of you and how I just couldn't leave you like that.

"That night, you seemed so happy. Happier than you'd ever been with me and when you tried to get me to dance with you, tried to get me to admit to your family what we were, I just couldn't do it. It wasn't anything you said or anything you did. It was my cowardice. It was all me." He pulled Eric's trembling hands down from his tear-streaked face and made sure he was understood. "It had nothing to do with you. It was always going to happen and you couldn't have stopped it. How much I loved you couldn't have stopped me. It didn't."

Eric shook his head and pressed his face into Jack's chest, finally releasing the shaking sobs into his sweater. Jack rocked him back and forth, murmuring comforting words he didn't understand into his hair. "It's okay, you'll be okay. Stop crying, it's okay." He stroked Eric's hair and held him until he quieted down. They eventually made their way, together to the top of Eric's bed. Entangled together, Jack was almost asleep when the request came.

"Come over? Just once? I'll make you dinner."

"Why not?"

Jack doesn't tell Eric that he had a panic attack earlier that day when he'd realized that in order to meet Eric, he would have to put off, once again, the paper he had to do for his Econ class. The paper was twenty percent of his grade and he was already working his shaky A plus average towards an A minus. If he got anything less than a perfect grade on it, his stepfather wouldn't be happy and if his stepfather wasn't happy, Jack would feel the brunt of it soon enough. He'd knocked his coffee mug to the ground before he'd even noticed his breathing had sped up and he wasn't taking any air in. Without Eric there to talk him through it, he'd sat in a perpetual state of fear, unable to breathe until he managed to convince himself that he could just leave dinner early and give himself more time to work on it. That Eric wouldn't mind.

Seeing him now, Jack realized what a fool he had been. Eric looked… perfect. How could Jack pull himself away early when just looking at Eric made his heart actually flutter?

Eric had gained some healthy weight back, his hair was no longer limp and lifeless—it was back to the gorgeous, wavy locks he'd prided himself for when Jack had first met him. Gone were the dark circles underneath his eyes but the worry lines around his mouth, those were permanent. He didn't quite seem happy but he gave off an air of content. Like he'd found his way back to normal but he was still waiting for something else to fill his life completely.

"How've you been?" Eric asked tentatively, taking a bite of pasta. He remembered the day he'd gotten into a food fight with Jack and Rachel. How he remembered not the tight fit of Rachel's tight T-shirt caked with mashed potatoes and pasta sauce but for the bright gleam of unbridled amusement in Jack's eyes underneath inches of whipped cream. He may not look back on every memory of Rachel fondly but enough of them were cherished because Jack had seemed truly carefree when she was around. When they were the unbeatable trio and life was much simpler.

God, had Jack's stepfather been in the background of that time too?

"I'm… good." It wasn't entirely a lie. He'd been doing well in school, his GPA brought way up. His new apartment, paid for by his stepfather on the grounds that he never see Eric again, was pretty much perfect and silent as he had no need for a roommate. The only thing missing was anytime of excitement whatsoever. It just wasn't the same coming home and finding that no one had set fire to the toaster or lost their coffee table betting a neighbor that it would hit the ground quicker than a beanbag chair. He thought about getting a dog but he wasn't sure if taking care of one would be half as much work as taking care of Eric was.

He missed him in a big way. So big that he woke up most mornings with the phone in his hand and Eric's number halfway dialed. It took all the resolve he had not to hit "send" and sometimes he even lost that battle.

"Really?" The "without me?" went unspoken and Eric had to bite his lip not to ask about the last time Jack had a panic attack. The last time he'd gone three days without eating or sleeping because he had to get a project perfect. The last time he'd woken up after passing out because he couldn't be bothered to take a sip of water. The last time he'd found himself on a bridge willing to end his life because he just couldn't handle the—"Pressure? You don't feel any more pressure?"

Jack tried to play it off with a laugh. "Of course I do, Eric." His mouth felt odd, having gone months without saying the name anymore. It felt wrong in his mouth, like he didn't deserve to use it. "I'm a college student. I'm under a tremendous amount of pressure. Most days I don't even wanna get out of bed." His voice went raw at the end with the brutal honesty of it all and he could tell Eric was reading between the lines.

"But you do, don't you? You get out of bed and you make it through the day." He finished, tone blank as possible and for Eric that was never good. "For what?"

"What do you mean?" He watched Eric's brown eyes staring him down and wondered when he'd learned how to look that way. Who he'd learned it from because he managed to look so much like his stepfather.

"What do you want Jack? What do you expect to get out of this?" He gestured to the table and the empty apartment.

"I—"

"Because if you expect me to just sit here and take your word that you're fine and you're doing just fine without me when I know that your stepfather has been treating you like his personal punching bag since—"

"It's not! I'm not fine without you." He finished quietly, apologizing for the outburst that, in any circumstance, would've made his stepfather send him to his room without dinner. "And he's been better. I didn't say that I was fine without you. I miss you every minute of every day. I miss you every time I come home to my apartment and see that you're not there to give me a hug and a kiss and tell me that I mean something. I miss you every time that I find a lucky penny on the ground and think of you. Or when I see a rubber duck on a commercial and I think of you. Or every time that it rains and I feel that twinge where my wrist was broken and I think of the first time that I kissed you – I miss you."

Eric looked down at his plate and felt his eyes start to burn. "Jack."

"I wanted to give you something to go on. Something to make it okay to want to be with me and not have to worry that I'm going to lose it and want to end everything. I wanted to make it okay for you to look at me and just see the person you love… not some psycho that tried to kill himself." He explained, willing Eric to look up and see how hard this was for him.

"I can't look at you without worrying." He said, seeing the crestfallen look on Jack's face. He grabbed at his hand before he could speak again. "That's part of loving someone, Jack. I care about you so much that I hate to see you hurt. Even worse, I hate to see you trying to hide it from me."

Jack wasn't touching that with a ten foot pole. "When I met you you were the happiest, funniest guy I knew. You were like a big kid and I know I acted like you were the most annoying person ever but I did everything I could to just be around you. You had this way of making everyone around you feel like all their problems were miles away." He paused and chose his words carefully. "What happened to him? I just," he gave a wry chuckle. "I can't remember the last time I saw you laugh."

It was a while before Eric said anything, his hand tracing circles on the back of Jack's. The rain pitter-pattered against the window and the room brightened every few moments with the cackle of lightning. "I grew up, Jack." The intensity in his eyes, the hardness of his face told Jack that Eric had resigned himself to this.

"I never wanted that for you."

"Nobody did. But it happened anyway and I wouldn't change a thing." He took a sip of his wine and returned his gaze to Jack's stricken expression. "So where does that leave us?"

Jack thought of the many times he'd found Eric's touch the only thing keeping him sane, calm and, at some low points, alive. He thought of the look on his face that night at Cory's wedding when they'd danced in circles, his hands on Jack's waist. He thought of Eric's parents looking at him with pity and understanding when he spoke about Shawn forbidding Eric to see him. He thought of the suit Eric kept in the Matthew's closet, in plastic lining and bloodied as the day he'd jumped.

He thought of the bridge and how uncertain he'd felt looking down at the toes of his dress shoes hovering over the edge. There was no way to be sure but he thinks he'd felt less nervous then than he does now.

He doesn't tell Eric that he had a panic attack earlier that day. He doesn't tell him because the one thing Eric wants more than anything is for Jack to be okay. And while Jack can't promise that, he can give Eric this. He can give him hope. "If you still want me, we can give this a try; for real this time. No secrets. No hiding."

The corners of Eric's lips twitched in enough of a smile that Jack felt his heart slow its rapid pace until he felt Eric slide the sleeve of his sweater up past the bony knob of his wrist. The soft pads of his fingertips ran along the scar where the doctors had screwed pins in to repair the damage his stepfather had caused. The touch was so gentle, so poised so as not to scare Jack away that he felt something lodge in his throat. "Eric, don't."

"Don't what?" He asked, trailing his fingers up to the scar on Jack's forearm from the fall. "Don't touch you?"

"No." He swallowed thickly and fought the urge to get up from the table. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" He asked.

"Eric." It took everything he had not to claw Eric's hand off of where it held his wrist still.

"No more secrets. No more hiding. No more pretending." He recited as if he'd written this all down on his Christmas list. "And every night I want you tell me everything about your day. Every single thing. I can't protect you from the world Jack but I want you to never have to protect yourself from me."

He was shaking now with the urge to stop Eric treating his scars like they were something to be treasured, something sacred. His leg was bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and he could feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. God, was he so fucked up that the slightest bit of kindness sent his insides clawing their way to his throat?

"Please stop." He begged, words escaping before he'd even felt his mouth opening.

Eric paid him no attention and continued making his way to the inside of Jack's elbow. "Promise me."

"Okay, okay, just please stop."

"They're permanent, Jack. You'll never be rid of them and even if they fade you'll know where they were and how you got them. You'll always hate them but I think they're beautiful. They remind me that I should've lost you that night." The hard look had returned to his eyes. "Don't ever do that to me again."

"I won't." He bit out, flinching away from Eric's trembling fingers. He'd reached a breaking point and he wasn't sure if he wanted to fall at Eric's feet or punch him in the face. "I won't, I won't, just stop."

"Will you stay the night?" He looked up at him, eyes simply curious and giving no sign that he had turned Jack into a shaky mess in front of him.

"Okay." Jack said once more, biting his lip and waiting for Eric to stop. The hand finally stopped caressing his skin but the other continued the grip on his hand, grounding him, keeping him there.

"Okay." Eric repeated, the beginnings of a smile gracing his face.