To see disclaimer, see chapter one.

Doubt

I rubbed my face as I walked back to my desk. I'd stayed much later than I'd anticipated, as I was preparing for a considerably large photoshoot with Lady Gaga in two days, and finding the right angle and theme for all her accessories and props was no small chore.

It was still so...bizarre, coming back. Sitting down in my old worn out chair, I let the events of the last few months wash over me. Each time the wave of pain got less and less severe, to when finally it was just a faint dull ache in my heart.

I'd only worked at Elle for a month or so, it just didn't hold the same appeal for me as Mode did. However, I didn't rush back, with extremely good reason.

...

I'd taken a few months off, and one day I took a taxi to the airport, planning to take a vacation in Miami, and walked up to the departures. It was then that I made a split decision to let fate guide me.

I closed my eyes, and pointed. I took a deep breath, fully expecting to find the location of Kiev or Greenland awaiting under my finger.

When I opened my eyes, the destination read simply Pella, Iowa.

Which would have been a relief, had it not been for one important detail.

That was where I grew up.

It was a fairly conservative town, not in the political sense, just in the traditional sense. Where homosexuality wasn't exactly treated with open-mindedness.

I mean, I didn't have nearly as rough of a childhood as some closeted kids had, mostly because I could hide it well. My family supported me, my mother and my younger sister. My father too, suprisingly, though he took longer. They were the first ones I'd told.

I just hadn't talked to them in about a year, I just didn't think it was necessary to rub my lifestyle in their faces. I knew it was difficult for them, I didn't feel the need to make it worse.

I sighed, and before I knew it, I was on a plane. Heading home.

What I didn't expect was to be recieved with such enthusiasm. My mom cried, my dad laughed and hugged me, and Winnie tried to encircle me in a big bear hug, which she couldn't really accomplish with her small twenty-two year-old frame. So I hugged her, lifting her up in the proccess.

"We've missed you," my mom had said.

"Yeah, douche, why didn't you call your only sister when she graduated from college?" Winnie chided before Mom pinched her for her language, like she'd always done.

I gave the normal excuses: busy, a lot of work, didn't have the time.

It was really because I was scared that I would be reverted back to that state of that uncertainty and momentary dislike by my family, because back then, I knew that they would have preferred a straight son.

I knew better now of course, that I was their son, they loved me unconditionally. Winnie was slightly disappointed when I told her eight years ago.

"Why can't you be like the guys on Queer Eye? Cliffy, it would be so nice if you could be my shopping buddy. But you have no fashion sense whatsoever, you're like a straight man."

...Winnie was always the loud, and for lack of a better word, feisty one of the family.

I'd stayed there for about three weeks, at my family's urging. It was a good vacation, I completely forgot about Mode and Marc and everything that it involved.

For the most part.

Everytime I heard the word beauty, or saw cashmere, I thought of him. In all forms. Laughing, apologetic, angry, focused.

One day, in my last week in Pella, I ran into Nicholas Cammarari.

Nick had been a friend growing up, we'd been on the same soccer teams, same Boy Scout groups, yada yada yada. When we got into high school, we worked on a project for Sociology together our senior year and spent numerous weekends together at our houses. We talked, bared our souls, and connected. Things went from there, and we dated secretly for a few months. The ending had been mutual, and college was calling us to opposite sides of the country.

The breakup had been easier than I expected, as I'd been in love with him. Before him, there were only vague inclinations, but with him it cemented the fact of just who I was. However, it was okay with me, letting him go. He brought a lot of things to me, it just didn't seem right to dislike him.

We didn't look too different than we had almost a decade ago. I still was a doughboy of the fuzzy variety, and Nick was still the tall and intimidating jock look-a-like. We greeted each other with a hug, and went to a nearby diner for a cup of coffee to catch up.

"So, how have you been?" I asked.

Nick smiled, his five-o'clock shadow framing his round chin. "Good, I actually got married three years ago."

I nodded as I looked at the gold ring on his finger, gesturing for him to go on, and trying to ignore the dull ache in my chest.

"His name's Jonathan, and he's the complete opposite of me, but it's been fantastic overall. We actually just adopted a little girl, her name's Evie." He shifted his weight in the booth.

I smiled, "What do you mean, the complete opposite?"

He sipped his coffee before answering, "Oh, you know, he's more fashion oriented and is into more of a gorgeous, manicured model type."

"Then why'd he marry you?" I chided.

Nick laughed, "Good question, I asked him that once. He said I was different, and that I wasn't two-dimensional like most of the men he dated. Don't get me wrong though, it wasn't easy after that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Nick bit his lip, "he actually cheated on me after we started dating."

I was floored. The similarity was astonishing to my current situation.

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice level, "So what did you do?"

"Oh, I was hurt. Extremely. He said the man wasn't important, he didn't care about him, he was just insecure. I didn't speak to him for months."

I nodded, "And then what?"

He placed his chin in his hand thoughtfully, as if he was remebering an occurence he was fond of, not the fall of a relationship. "I realized he was the one I wanted to be with. The one I needed. I wanted to work through whatever it was that had caused it, with him. I didn't care about stupid pride any longer, you know? What's the point in being unhappy when happiness is within your reach? So, I reached."

"And look where you are." I said softly.

Nick smiled, "And look where I am."

I smiled weakly in response. Knowing that my coming here did in fact have a purpose.

That evening, I was on the phone with Mode, and that night, I was on a plane to New York.

...

And so I sat in the abandoned studio, pondering the events that lead to this moment.

I sighed, and opened the manilla folder on my desk. The picture of Marc and I stared back. I'd spent the entire flight concious of its presence in my pocket, reaching my fingers in to graze its edges occasionally, just to know it was there

For the first time, I felt nervousness as to why I came back, and the urge to stay where I was. To be the unattainable one for once.

I leaned back, holding the picture above me. I smoothed the creases, then the shapes of us, then just Marc.

I looked around, feeling the silence reverberate in every object around me. Knowing I was alone, I figured I might as well say the truth now. I got up, stretching my tired legs as I walked around the length of the studio, rehearsing it in my mind as if he'd really hear it.

When I reached the blue tarp hanging opposite my desk, I took a deep breath, and began to speak.

"Marc," I said, "I love you. Still. And that scares me."

I paused, and heard nothing, then turned and walked to the other side, "It scares me, because I know that you can still hurt me. Even beyond what you've already done, which I still have trouble getting over. You can hurt me beyond all point of breaking. Yet, after all that, I know I'll still want you back."

I laughed, "I came back for you. Because I miss your laugh, I miss how you never think you're attractive enough, and I miss that you lie constantly about everything, just to make people feel better. Whether it's you, or others. Which still makes me wonder, if I was truly any different than those who you lied to. And maybe I'll never know. Whether or not it works, I'm just glad I was able to say all the things I needed to say to you, because I know you'll never hear them."

I bit my lip, building to the absolute truth of my entire speech, "I still believe that if you were sincere about what you said, you're capable of loving me."

Silence. The same reply I would have expected should I have said that to his face.

I sighed, folding the picture and placing it in my pocket as I went to my desk, turning off the light.

I walked the length of the tarp to the exit, my fingers trailing along it lightly. It was so strange, it was almost as if I could feel him there, in that building, in that room.

I shrugged it off as I arrived at the door. Opening it, I turned one last time, gazing across the shapes hidden by darkness.

"A heart that hurts, is a heart that works." I said softly, believing every word.

I opened the door, and went out.

Just another late night at the office.

...

A/N: Hey readers! Not the end, of course. Anyway, again, sorry if this seems awkward, as I'm still suffering from jet lag from my absolutely fanastic spring vacation. Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed when I was gone, it was such a nice treat to come back to :) I do plan to use that line that Marc said to Justin about a kiss eventually, but I cannot for the life of me find it, so if anyone knows it and would like to give it to me that would be fanatastic! So, just let me know what you think and review! Thank you! :)