When Michael woke up he could feel his heartbeat in his skull. The hangover pounded behind his eyes and his stomach cursed him bitterly. He stumbled to the bathroom and bent down to free his insides of the foul taste deep in his throat.

"Fuck," he spat.

Every single time he got drunk he spent the next day wondering what the hell he was thinking.

He let his head roll back to rear against the counter. Memories of the night washed back through his mind; blurred but still unfractured. The most thoughtful presents he'd cherish, laughing himself breathless with Brooke, kicking up shredded wrapping paper, and… Oh no. No, no, no.

His heart had betrayed him; spilling out of his mouth with reckless abandon. He recalled the taste of Jeremy's skin and the heat of his breath. His mind and heart waged war with one another. He was torn between wanting to relive it and wishing it had never happened.

He held his face in his hands and pleaded with God to forgive him this selfishness. Panic made his head throb worse yet as he fished through the cabinet for aspirin. Adrenaline rushed his veins.

There would be no running from this. No denying it. The truth of it burned through his core; that Jeremy had kissed him back, hard. Frightened, unsteady, and yet fervent. He'd leaned into him, met his eyes, and didn't turn him away.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't take Jeremy's love-not as the monster he was. His jaw tightened and his body shook. He rocked himself back and forth, sitting for hours on the bathroom floor. Guilt corroded his heart like a cancer. He couldn't imagine returning to heaven from this. He didn't think he deserved it before and he damn well didn't now. He imagined himself as the devil's plaything and vomited again.

It would have been so much easier to have Jeremy reject him. That was fair. He wished he would have just pushed him away, told him he didn't feel the same. After all, weren't they just friends? Instead, he'd said you're drunk. That wasn't a rejection.

He'd have to face him eventually, and he had zero clue how to handle the situation. The halcyon days of the normal they'd created was over.

Should've stayed sober, he thought.

Hours passed and the pulsing headache finally subsided.

Jeremy was in the kitchen, chewing on the end of a pencil. He stared at his blank page. It was his habit when his thoughts were gnawing away at him.

Every bit of the mess he was in right now was his own creation. Michael had to face it. He cleared his throat in the hallway so he wouldn't sneak up on Jeremy; easily startled as he was.

His eyes stayed fixated on the paper beneath his fingers. He didn't meet Michael's eyes, not even with a glance.

"Feeling better?" he asked softly.

"Mostly," Michael replied, his throat tight.

"That's good." Jeremy's voice was distant. "How much of last night do you remember?"

"All of it," he answered guiltily. "Jer, I-"

Jeremy sighed and put his pencil down. "Don't, Michael."

"Don't what?"

"Don't start apologizing. Don't try to talk your way out of it."

"I'm so sorry," he said, staring at his hands.

"Bullshit," Jeremy hissed, unexpectedly cold. "You told me you loved me. You kissed me. Why the hell are you sorry?"

"I was drunk."

"Don't you dare," said Jeremy. Full of pain, his blue eyes were like ice. "I've been drunk more than you have, I promise you. It doesn't mean those feelings aren't real. Just means your walls start coming down."

Michael clenched his teeth. "You're right," he sniffed. "I meant what I said."

"So what's holding you back, huh? Why can't you talk to me sober?"

"Jeremy… I can't-"

"I have a right to know!" Jeremy said. He pressed his lips together and put a hand over his mouth.

"I didn't mean to yell," he said as Michael stared at him. "But you keep secrets, Michael. You're hurting, all the time. I can see it. You fucking apologize for everything, and it's killing me. You need to talk to me."

"I can't," Michael said flatly. He felt the heat of a tear falling from his cheek and onto his hand.

"Then this doesn't mean anything to you."

"No. No, don't say that."

"Stop!" Jeremy growled, rising from his chair. "You're not the only one who can't stand his own face in the mirror. Do you know where I've been this year? I've done awful things. To myself and to my family."

"I know," Michael whispered. "I know what happened."

He watched the color drain from the man's face. "See, that. That's the problem. You seem to know me so well, but you won't let me know you."

"You wouldn't like it if you knew," said Michael.

"You need to stop!" Jeremy shouted. "What did you do that was so horrible? Why the hell are you here?"

Michael heard his voice rise before he thought twice. The chair he sat in fell back and hit the tile floor loudly as he stood up.

"Because it's all my fault!" he screamed. Tears seared his face now. He waited for his ringing ears to quiet down before he spoke again, in a hushed tone now. "All of it."

Jeremy stared at him with wide eyes as the truth spilled from inside him faster than he could contain it.

"You were a gift, Jeremy. I was chosen to protect you; entrusted with that. I've seen your life. I've saved you from a hundred things. But I failed. I didn't protect you enough and you swallowed a bottle of pills because it was too much." He cleared his throat. "It was my responsibility to make damn sure nothing that bad happened to you. So it's on me."

Breathlessly, Jeremy shook his head. Michael stared toward the floor. He couldn't look at him, speechless. The hatred he must have felt now… it was suffocating.

"I've poisoned almost everything I've ever touched," Michael said darkly. "And I'll never forgive myself for letting you down. So that's why I didn't want you to know me. I'm a goddamn monster, Jeremy. I told you. I fucking told you."

He closed his burning eyes and let himself slip down farther into the abyss. The loathing inside was worse than anything he'd ever known.

In that moment, he realized just what a gentle soul Jeremy really was. He didn't scream or turn on him. He didn't hit him or leave. He just sighed and wrapped his arms around him. Michael leaned into his warmth; drowned himself in it.

"I think you should go spend some time at Brooke's place," he whispered. "I need time to process. And she'll be there for you."

"Okay," Michael whimpered.

"I don't hate you for this, Michael." Jeremy pressed his lips to his forehead, and then his cheek. "I don't know how to feel about it. But you need to find a way to let it go."

"I don't know if I can."

"I know. I haven't let go of what I've done either. But I need some time. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, Michael."

The words sank through his body and made him shiver. Sometimes he didn't understand Jeremy's capacity to be kind.

"I love you too."

The rise and fall of Jeremy's chest against his own calmed him.

"Where do we go from here?" Michael asked.

"I wish I knew, Mikey."