On Monday, he makes himself go to the gym after class. He hasn't been in ages, and as he pushes through his cardio workout with lungs burning and sweat dripping, he finds that pushing himself this way is oddly therapeutic. He has no room in his mind for anything but trying to breathe and keep his feet moving. It's the first time in a long time his mind has gone entirely blank, and he loves it. He runs hard for as long as he can until he's totally exhausted, so much so that he calls John to pick him up.
Though he's utterly spent, he feels good, today is now a good day. It had started off rough, he'd awoken from a nightmare of his mum forgetting who he was and had to call her on her way to work because he needed to hear her voice. He's so needy right now, and he hates it, she has enough to worry about without needing to comfort him, and yet…
He thinks it will be better once he's home, that part of the reason he's having such a hard time with this is the fact that he hasn't seen her. He needs to hug it out, needs to snuggle up in his mum's arms like he's six and scraped his knee. What he really needs is for this not to be happening, but that isn't an option, so he has to learn to live with it like she has. It's still so hard to accept, and he keeps wishing he would wake up and have it all be a bad dream, or they'll realize it was all a mistake and she's fine, which is never going to happen, but he can't stop the fruitless wishes.
The news was devastating, but he's coping, as best he can, and he is so grateful for his friends and all they've been doing for him. John and Regina especially have gone above and beyond for him, and best of all, neither expects him to be over it by now or tries to make it better. He's gotten a lot of at least's from other people: at least she's okay now and at least she's not dead, coupled with stupid advice and analogies that make him want to rip his hair out and roll his eyes even though he knows people are well-meaning and just trying to help.
But none of that stuff helps, and in some ways it makes him feel worse, like he's not handling this well—he's not, he knows that, but he doesn't need to add guilt into the vortex of negative emotions he's trying to keep at bay.
John and Regina aren't like that, they check in but there's no pressure associated with it, he feels like he can be a mess around them and they won't judge, will just offer a sympathetic ear or distraction if that's what he wants. He has good days and bad days and they are with him for both. They've shown him a level of support he's never experienced before, one he's not sure he deserves, at least not from Regina after his outburst last week. He was grateful at the time when she waved off his apology because it was one less thing to deal with, and he was a bit overwhelmed with getting back to classes and dealing with everyone's sympathy. But now that he's had a bit of time, he knows he needs to tell her just how much he didn't mean it, and ideally the thing he did mean, that he loves her, but he can't handle heartbreak on top of everything else right now if he's been reading this wrong all along. He's far too fragile to deal with any fallout, and her reaction to his slip up made it clear she's not ready. With everything that's going on, it's best to just leave it for now. He'll watch himself, will be sure not to spill his feelings again until things have slowed down.
He was certain she felt the same, she's shown him she feels at least something for him over the course of this, but there is that slight chance it's only friendship. He wouldn't even be humouring that except for what happened on Saturday.
That hook up in the bathroom was easily one of the hottest sexual encounters of his life, probably would be the hottest if he hadn't broken the moment by inadvertently admitting his feelings. He's still kicking himself for it. He really hadn't meant to say it, it just slipped out, and as soon as he heard the words and saw her face, he knew what a colossal mistake it was. That's the story of his life with Regina lately; he just keeps screwing up, in two polar opposite directions.
He tried to talk out the I love you with her right after, but she'd refused, and when he tried to bring it back up again when they got back to her place, she started talking about how hot it was seeing him come in the mirror as she climbed onto his lap, and well, he was utterly lost to her after that.
So lost to her that he missed a perfect opportunity to clarify that he wants to be with her, that he didn't mean a word of his idiotic we aren't together comment. They are together, in some fashion anyway, and maybe she doesn't want to admit that but it's true. There has been progress in that arena, they are exclusive now, which happened in probably the worst possible, the least romantic way, for sure. They'd foregone the condom in the bathroom and once they were back at her place, after he ate her out and was desperate for her, he asked if they could again, told her he wanted to really feel her. Looking back, he could not have had a better chance to tell her he didn't mean his comment, but he was too damn turned on to think clearly. It wasn't entirely his fault, her hand was stroking his cock firmly, making him go a bit brainless as she said she would only fuck him without a condom if they were exclusive.
It was not hard at all for him to agree to exclusivity, he's been doing it regardless since they started this, can't imagine sleeping with anyone but her, wouldn't want to. As soon as he said he wanted that, she sunk down onto his cock and rode him at a hard and fast pace that had him seeing stars. There was no way he was stopping that to talk. He told himself he'd bring it up after, but the time they finished he was utterly spent and drifted off to sleep.
The morning had brought a slow, lazy bout of morning sex that had him biting back those three words again, the ones he is not going to say during sex again until he's said them for real, in a better moment, where she can't brush them off. It needs to be good when he tells her, he hasn't been able to show off his romantic side, hasn't treated her the way he should have and he needs to make it up with how he makes that declaration.
He's fucked up a lot of this, but he's not going to fuck up that.
She cancels her therapy session on Tuesday. She slept terribly the night before, woke up cranky and overtired, with a stupid cough and slight headache that only grew as the day went on.
She had meant to make a lasagna after her session, to bring it over to Robin and John's so they'd have something available for dinners. It's stupid, but feeding them is one of the only things she's been able to do that actually seems to help. But her head is fucking killing her now, the Advil she took doesn't seem to be making a difference, so she pops a Tylenol in, hoping it will help.
It's only six o'clock, but she's half contemplating going to bed. It's just, she hasn't seen or talked to Robin outside of class today, and since he told her the news, she's talked to him every single day—usually multiple times a day—and has been over at his place almost as much.
He's probably fine, may even be relieved not to hear from her, but she doesn't want him to think she's not there, or be suffering silently. She's in far too fucking deep, she should be able to go one day without checking in, but she can't.
She grabs for her phone and asks him how he's doing, debates on offering company but ultimately doesn't because her head is still pounding. While she's hoping the drugs will kick in, until they do, the thought of making the effort to go over to Robin and John's is just too much.
They chat back and forth for a bit, even though staring at her phone is making her headache worse, and he says he's been better but he's doing okay. She knows how to read between the lines and she aches for him, for the pain he's so clearly experiencing that no one can take away. She can't imagine what it's like for him, but she knows enough to know that that pain, the grief he's experiencing, is not going away any time soon.
She wants to do more, should have sucked it up and made the lasagna because he likes when she cooks for him, and it's an easy way to put a smile on his face. She still could, could get off of the couch and do it now, but man, is she ever exhausted. It's not going to happen today, she needs this stupid headache to go away so she can get some sleep, then she'll be good.
She'll make it tomorrow, in fact, she'll invite him over, will make him a nice dinner, have a nice, light night to take his mind off of it all.
When he tells her that's a great plan she smiles stupidly down at her phone, feeling ridiculously comforted and happy about words that really mean nothing. It's just like that damn I love you, she knows he didn't mean it, no one says that during sex and means it. She felt the way he tensed up, saw his face and how quickly he corrected it, but that hasn't stopped her from fantasizing about what if it were true, about if they were together for real, not just newly exclusive fuck buddies.
She can't believe she did that, they should have had a real talk about it, not a quick exchange seconds before sex. She should have just said yes, you can fuck me without, they'd already done it that night anyway, then later when they weren't in the throes they could have talked it out, with her explaining why she needs exclusivity if they are going to keep having unprotected sex.
It's not an unreasonable request, it's safer for both of them, but it's not one that should be made in those circumstances. If she didn't know Robin the way she does she wouldn't take any stock in his agreement for exclusivity given the circumstances, but he's Robin and she knows he wouldn't risk her sexual health like that. He's a man of his word, and when he commits to something, he does it, no matter what the circumstance.
She probably should give him the option to go back on it, considering she was not at all playing fair when she proposed it. She can admit to herself she knew he wasn't going to say no in that moment when she was stroking him, about to take him inside of her. As much as she wants them to be exclusive, she took advantage there and should make sure he is actually okay with the trade-off. She'll do that tomorrow, at some point before dinner is over, since if it goes how she expects they'll be fucking shortly thereafter.
God, sex with him is out of this world. She is damn lucky and she knows it, has never ever had a man so committed to her pleasure. She's half tempted to blame the sex for her stupid feelings, but it's more than that, it's him. He's incredible. She can't be judged for starting to fall for him in a no feelings situation—he's actually the perfect guy and unreal in bed. She never stood a chance in the face of all that. How could anyone be with Robin and not start to fall for him?
He at least had her, she is not the perfect girl, is so far from it that it's clear why he had to spell out for her that they aren't together. Just look at how she manipulated him into exclusivity. She's terrible; she hurts the people she cares about, she's better off this way where the only heart she can break is her own. She scarred the only man dumb enough to fall for her, and she doesn't want anyone else to feel the brunt of what her feelings lead to. She's not cut out to be with someone, not cut out for love, she needs to be in something casual where she has no chance of hurting the other person. She can't be trusted when there are other people's feelings involved.
So yes, she can fantasize about Robin meaning those words and love it, but she knows deep down that it's actually better this way, that it's actually better for both of them that he doesn't return her feelings. She can handle her own heartbreak—she cannot handle hurting Robin, it would kill her. He's been through enough this year without the trainwreck that is falling for Regina Mills. He deserves better, so much better, and maybe he'll find it when he's away this summer. It will be good for him to have a break from her, to find someone good like him, capable of giving him everything. She's holding him back, and she should stop, but she's selfish and won't, not until he leaves. She'll set him free then, let him explore what's out there guilt free—it really is the least she can do.
He texted Regina when he left his place, and that she still hasn't responded by the time he's walking up gives him pause, but he's already here. It's not like her to not respond, but she knows he's coming, they planned this yesterday, and she's never forgotten their plans before—mind you there is a first time for everything. She'd been distracted all day in class, hadn't been engaged and participating like she normally does, and he didn't think anything of it then but now he's wondering what's up.
He gets his answer after ringing the doorbell twice. He normally just knocks and walks in, or she's watching for him and gets the door, but this time it's locked (not a good sign) so he waits.
When she opens the door she's wrapped in a blanket, her cheeks and nose reddened, pillow marks on her face as she stares at him bleary eyed—and shoot, he clearly woke her up and she's none to pleased about it.
It takes a second but then recognition dawns on her face and she's apologizing with a croaky voice, "Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't realize what time it was. I was just sitting on the couch, I didn't think I'd fall asleep."
She shivers, and though he should be going, he steps inside, letting the door shut as he tells her, "It's okay, do you need anything before I go?"
She frowns, and god she's pretty, even now clearly sick and in need of rest. "Why would you go?"
Maybe she wants him to stay? He's not averse to that at all, he's a pathetic mess when he's sick. He wouldn't want to subject anyone to that, but if she wants him to stick around and take care of her, he is more than happy to do that. "I mean I can stay, whatever you need, love. Have you eaten?"
She shakes her head, "I was going to make us lasagna."
"I can…" okay no, let's be real, he can't, "Who am I kidding, no, I can't, but I can order something."
Her nose scrunches and she's looking at him like he's making no sense, which maybe he isn't, "No, I can make it, just give me a minute, some coffee first, maybe…"
She starts to wander toward the living room, dropping the blanket over the back of the couch as she does.
"Regina, it's okay, you're sick, don't exert yourself. If you have something easy I can make it, or we'll order something."
She turns to face him, shivering slightly now that she's blanketless, "I'm not… I'm just groggy that's all, I don't nap, it's messed me up."
"You're shivering and you're flushed. And I bet," he says as he steps in, raising his palm to her hot forehead, "you have a fever."
She recoils from his touch, "Your hand is freezing."
"And you have a fever."
She shakes her head, "That's just the contrast. I'm fine."
He just looks at her; she's stubborn, he already knows that, but he can't believe this is what she's put her foot down on. She's clearly been sick all day, and denying it isn't going to help her get better.
"I'm fine, I don't get sick. It's nothing."
He resists the urge to roll his eyes because that is not going to help, but he can't keep the dry sarcasm out of his, "Well, there's a first time for everything."
She rolls her eyes at him, and as if she's so offended by what is the reality here. He wants to laugh because it's so absurd. She shivers yet again and good lord, he is not going to let her stubbornness get in the way of her getting better. "Would you go lay on the couch? Put your blanket back on."
"I don't need it," she says, then she's overcome by a coughing fit that makes him wince.
"The shivers suggest otherwise."
"Well, it's cold in here."
"All the more reason to get under the blanket then."
She glares at him, but does as he asks, sort of anyway, she doesn't lay down, she sits, but she wraps herself back in the blanket and that's good enough.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teases, utterly surprised when all she does is sneer at him. That's fine, he got his way, and he'll take every bit of her sass along the way if it means he can get her to rest.
He heads into the kitchen to see what she has and she tells him that there's a frozen pizza as he opens the cupboard to find exactly what he wanted: chicken soup. There's chamomile tea in the same cabinet and he grabs that as well, filling the kettle and flipping the switch before opening the soup.
He makes it in the microwave, something she's probably never done, but he's lazy and it works just as well. He throws some bread in the toaster and he ends up with a nice little meal in under five minutes.
He has to take two trips from the kitchen and ignores Regina's insistence that she can help. After they finish their suppers, he brings his hand back to her forehead, and sure enough, she is burning up (he knew it wasn't the contrast).
"You have a fever," he tells her, hoping that maybe this time she'll be more receptive.
"You don't know what you are talking about." He loves every headstrong bit of her, he really does but how is he supposed to get her to face the truth? He smiles when he realizes he can actually use her bullheadedness against her.
"Then prove it."
"Prove it how?"
"Show me you don't have a fever, you do have a thermometer, don't you?"
She narrows her eyes, and he knows he's got her because he saw it in her first aid kit when he gave himself a nasty papercut one night when they were studying.
She goes to get up and get it, but he stops her, "I'll get it."
She sighs out her annoyance at him but he pays it no mind. He's feeling almost smug as he returns with it, knowing he's about to be proven right, only to remember that that means she's sick and he shouldn't be celebrating that. And he isn't, just that she'll accept it soon, then they can get to work at making her feel better.
When the thermometer flashes 102.5 he raises his eyebrows, that's concerning. She's just under what's cause for concern (he thinks) and they need to watch that. If it gets any higher she'll need medical attention, which he's sure would be a picnic to get to her agree to.
She sinks into a couch a bit as she looks at the number then admits in a soft voice, "I feel like shit."
He rubs her forehead, pushing her hair back off of it as he asks, "What can I do?"
She snuggles up into him, "You're warm and comfy." If a cuddle is what she needs he can easily give her that, but first…
"Have you taken anything, love?"
She shakes her head then amends, "Just some Advil earlier to help with the headache."
She was fighting him over being sick when she had a headache, a cough and a high fever, only her. "Do you have Tylenol?"
She nods and this time allows him to go get it without a fight. He brings her a tall glass of water as well, offering tea that she declines. He goes to cuddle up with her and she pulls back, which he wasn't expecting.
"What's wrong?"
"I… I'm sick, I don't want to infect you, too. You should go."
He shakes his head and pulls her into his arms, "I'm good here, unless you really don't want me here."
She burrows her face into his chest, "No, this is nice, but just for a bit."
Just for a bit turns out to be a half an hour, her fighting off falling asleep until he says he's going to leave so she can nap. She protests that so he amends that plan, and instead decides to take her upstairs, after checking her temperature again. It's gone down slightly, but he's still a little worried. She's good now, she's accepted that she's sick and he knows she'll do what she can to take care of herself, but he wants to help, wants to know that she's okay, and be there in case she gets worse.
She's a little shaky as she stands and he wraps an arm around her waist to steady her, before deciding it would just be easier to pick her up. She's so tiny, he forgets that sometimes, but she weighs next to nothing, she's strong and so smart, her personality and demeanor make her seem bigger than she actually is.
She teases him that she's not a complete invalid, but is still holding on tight around his neck as he walks toward the stairs.
"Don't drop me," she warns, and he swears on his honour that he won't. He carries her all the way to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed, intending to go get her some water but she uses those strong arms to pull him down with her. She goes to kiss him, but pulls away at the last second. He gets why, but he can't resist pressing a soft peck to her lips. He gives another to her cheek, then her warm forehead, before extracting himself to get her some water.
She's half asleep already when he gets back, but she smiles at him, slurring, "Come 'ere," in this adorable way that has him going even softer for her. He settles in beside her, stroking her back and hair as she nods off to sleep, muttering a soft, "Stay with me," that has his belly warming with a surge of affection for her.
She murmurs something else he can't really hear, a thank you that he half convinces himself was a love you, even though he knows it's highly unlikely and even if it was she's not in the right state to mean it.
It doesn't matter what she said, she wants him here and he wants to be here, he'll do whatever he can to nurse her back to health. Maybe he can't tell her that he loves her but he can show her, and he's going to do just that, for as long as she'll let him.
She hasn't been this sick since she was a child, so naturally she gets taken down right before exams, as if she wasn't already behind enough as is. She tried to drag her ass to class on Friday, but Robin told her no, had tried to explain, but she did not have the energy to fight him. She hadn't even tried to go on Thursday, had slept right through class and most of the day. Everything from Wednesday night on is sort of fuzzy, but she knows he was here. He made sure she ate, took care of her and spent his nights with her, because she apparently begged him to stay—something she has absolutely no recollection of. She does remember wanting him near, stealing comfort from his soft touches, and being lulled to sleep by gentle back rubs.
She's a little embarrassed she basically forced him to take care of her and made him risk getting sick himself. He has so much going on and he took on yet another burden to take care of her. She's grateful for it, but also guilty. She's been looking out for him, but she was incapable of doing that the past few days.
She's feeling a lot better now, not one hundred percent yet, she's definitely over the hump though. Her limbs are no longer heavy and aching and she's getting her energy back. She's left with an awful sounding cough and a runny nose, but it's a huge improvement from how useless she has been.
She barely left her bed since Wednesday night, apart from a soothing hot bath she almost fell asleep in last night with Robin. He's back at his place now, she remembers him telling her before he left that he was going to check on the cat because John is away for the weekend with his family. It's the Easter weekend, which seems crazy that it's happening already, but it's really early this year. There hadn't even been a class on Friday for her to attend, but her brain had been too fried to realize that at the time. Luckily, she'd already told her parents she wasn't coming home, that she was going to use the weekend to buckle down and study because she would have gotten an earful from her mother if she had cancelled last minute or had come home like this.
She doesn't know if Robin had plans—he must not have, he wouldn't have dropped them to take care of her, right? He wouldn't have, he better not have, she'll feel terribly guilty if she's taken him away from Easter plans, he needs stuff like that right now.
She was going to have Zelena, Mal and Robin over for dinner tomorrow, and any other of their friends who didn't go home for the holiday. She still wants to do something, but she won't cook and risk infecting them all.
She texts Mal to propose a new plan and finds out she's already made a reservation at a nice restaurant for them all, all she has to do is show up tomorrow at six if she's feeling up to it. That will be nice, a last dinner together before she disappears, as Mal says, into exam mode.
This time she won't be doing her usual studying intently for weeks at a time without seeing anyone, because she's going to want to check on Robin, to make sure he's okay and offer him help in whatever way she can. It will be different, but she'll manage, and hell, it will probably be good for her. She's always struggled with the right balance, and while she can intensely focus for long periods and go without seeing or talking to anyone, she's well aware that it's not the healthiest.
Robin texts that he's on his way back and she changes out of her pajamas, only into sweats, but it's progress, makes her feel like she's done something. She meanders down the stairs and makes some tea, putting some honey and lemon in it because Robin had been making her something like that, and maybe it was placebo or just him, but it seemed to work. She remembers vaguely feeling better every time he got her a mug, but maybe that was just because she was drinking hot liquid, who knows. She should find out from him what it is, in case it really does help.
She asks him when he gets back, and is told, "Honey, lemon, ginger, it's my mum's cure all," as he sits down on the couch beside her.
She slides closer as she asks, "Does it work?"
He smiles, "Yeah, it really does. She's really into natural remedies, this one is the best of hers, by far. Some are super gross."
"Like what?"
"I was getting bad heartburn for a while and she told me to take a shot of apple cider vinegar every morning. I did one and never again."
She laughs as he grimaces over the memory. It's nice to hear him talk this way about her, to know that the good memories aren't overshadowed by her illness, that he can find joy again in thinking of her.
Robin goes wistful, "You should hear the crazy herbs and stuff she's trying now. She's really gone deep into research, looking at treatments, things she can do, tricks from other people. It all seems almost futile to me, but I'd never say that to her because what if I managed to talk her out of something that actually worked? I'd hate myself…"
Her hand rubs up and down his arm, a subtle comfort as she asks, "How is she doing?" Robin hasn't wanted to talk about it, has limited what he says to how unfair it all is and how awful the disease is.
"She's… she's strong, she's a fighter. She's… she's somehow accepted it, and I just can't fathom ever getting there, and I don't know that I want to. Well, I do but…" he sighs, "I want to be able to get where she is, and I feel guilty being such a wreck over this because I know it upsets her even though she says it doesn't. But, maybe if I'd had the same amount of time they'd had I'd feel different now."
"How long has she known for?"
His, "almost four months," is surprisingly bitter, but then she can't imagine having that hidden for so long.
"Have you talked about that, the why? Maybe that would help with your anger."
"I'm not—I don't get to be angry with her."
She raises a brow, glad he caught his denial, because he clearly is angry. "She hid it from you, you are allowed to be angry about that."
He shakes his head, "It has no purpose, it doesn't accomplish anything."
"That may be true, but you feel it and pushing it down isn't going to make it go away."
He smiles softly then, his tone gently teasing as he remarks, "That's something you know well, I take it."
She nods, that's a huge understatement, it's basically her MO to push things down, pretend they don't exist, tell herself they are irrational or deny them until she's forced to confront them. "It's always worse if you do that, let yourself feel it, figure out what you need to let it go and try and work toward that."
"It's just… I know why she did it, but she shouldn't have. She said sorry and I know she is, but… I just wish we could go back and change it, but that's stupid because it can't happen, so I don't know."
"Have you told her how you feel, that you are angry about it?"
He shakes his head vehemently, "No! She has more than enough going on, and I shouldn't burden her with it."
"Do you think that maybe she already knows?"
He ponders that for a moment, "Yeah, she probably does. Actually, I know she does because she told me I'm allowed to be mad about it when she apologized. I just don't want to be. I love her, she's great, I should have been able to forgive it easily."
"Beating yourself up about it isn't doing you any good."
He sighs, "That's true. This whole thing has been life changing, and I go back and forth on being okay over how much it fucked me up. I can't win though, the times I feel good there's like this lingering guilt, but then when I feel bad it hurts my mum and I don't want to do that. It's all a mess, I'm a mess. And it's… yeah…" He slumps farther into the couch, his hand coming to trace spirals on her arm as he changes the subject, "How are you feeling?"
She takes the change in stride, understanding that he's done talking about it. "Better, not great, but getting there."
"That's good."
She takes a chance on a tease, "Should be back to feeding you by Monday." He hesitates for a second, and crap, she thought it would go over better. His silence prompts her to ask nervously, "What is it?"
"I need you to stop that. I really really appreciate everything you've done for me, but it was a welcome change to take care of you instead. I think I needed that, to get me back on track. I was relying too heavily on you. I need to get back into my routine, doing all my things myself, it helps."
God, she didn't realize, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"You don't need to be sorry, it was really helpful then, I just don't need it anymore." He smirks softly as he remarks, "I'm not saying I won't take some dinner from you during the exam period if you offer, but I gotta get back to doing it all. Oh, and I guess I should give this back," he says, holding up her extra key, and wait, when did she give him that, did she give him that?
"How did you…"
"You told me where it was on Thursday when I left for class. You were really out of it, and I didn't want to leave you here with the door unlocked. I hope you don't mind that I kept it for a couple days, I was here so often it—"
"I don't mind at all. It's fine, seriously." She's half tempted to tell him to keep it, that he can come over anytime with it, but that is not a good idea, she doesn't want him to thinks she's insane—because suggesting that would be insane—so she takes her key from him and sets it down on the coffee table.
"So do you want me to get out of your hair or…?"
No, she doesn't want that, she likes him here, far too much, so she'll enjoy it while she can. "Stay, unless you have something you need to do. I've taken up so much of your time this week—"
"I didn't mind, really, like I said, it was good for me, and I'd like to stay. I should go home to Merry tonight though, so she's not lonely, but outside of that, I'm good here."
God, she loves him, no likes him, likes him a lot. She has strong feelings, but she doesn't love him, he's just such a great guy, and any woman would be lucky to have him.
"Are you okay with studying?" she asks, knowing that she needs to get to work.
"Yeah, I need to get on that."
That's rather perfect and it's what they do for two hours or so until her eyes start to get heavy and he urges her to rest. They end up napping together on the couch after he admits that he, too, could go for a nap. They make it work by cuddling up tight and when she wakes up still wrapped in his embrace, she never wants to leave it.
Thank you all for sticking with this story and for all the love and support. This story is going on a brief hiatus while I write my LoveFromOQ fic but I'll be back to getting this finished as soon as I'm done with that fic.