Author's note, disclaimer, etc: Chapter 5 and still I haven't succeeded in my plan to take over the world (or at least the Disney channel) and therefore own the rights to these characters. Damn. Also, thanks for the reviews! :)

So things were great. For a month, things were really great. Around the others it was still "Sorry I drank out of the milk carton, Mrs. P.," and "Oh, those wacky teenagers and their shenanigans." Still, no matter how much deeper our relationship became during the quiet moments when the others left us alone (and no, you perverts, I'm not just talking about the physical element), there was a sense of impending doom that infected every word, every glance, every touch. I think we both knew, or at least I did, that one of us would eventually come up with the brilliant idea of telling them all for the sake of being open and not lying to everyone else we loved, and that one idea would bring this all crashing down around us.

At just under the one-month mark, the suggestion finally attacked. It was a perfectly peaceful... I don't know, what do you call the hours between midnight and dawn? We were just lying in bed, not touching, fully clothed. I could feel his warmth occupying the left half of the mattress, hear him blinking in the darkness, and it was perfect. And then: "I want to tell them." As if the idea had already been introduced and argued about, and he was returning to the subject after everyone had a chance to calm down. Just, "I want to tell them."

"I think that's an extraordinarily bad idea," I said after a long, long silence.

"I know."

"Why do you think it isn't?"

"Because what happens if they just find out?"

"That won't happen."

"You can't hide from it forever, you know. I know it's working now, and it is working, it's working great, but what happens after a year, three years, five?"

"Good lord, you're optimistic." Another long silence. "I'm sorry. I just don't know if it's... worth it, I mean, what happens if this doesn't last? Maybe the only thing keeping us together is the fact that we shouldn't be together."

"You think that's all it is?"

I sat up and faced him. "What happens the first time I slip? What happens the first time I go back to treating you like one of Jack's friends? What happens the first time I talk to you like your mother?"

"That won't happen."

It was my turn to stare him down. "Look, I'm fucked up. I'm your mother's best friend. I'm obnoxious when I don't get what I want, and sometimes I'm obnoxious when I do get what I want because often I don't deserve it. I was lonely without you and I'll probably be lonely with you. Nothing lasts forever. I'd give this another month. Maybe. If we tell anyone at all, both of our worlds will be crushed in an instant. Your mother and father will despise me. They'll call you things you should never have to hear from your own parents. My children will despise and resent both of us. Everyone we know will be against this. You need to think about whether you want this--me--enough to risk that." I swallowed hard and softened my voice to imply sincerity. "And if you decide that this isn't worth it, I'm not going to blame you. Things can just go back to the way they were."

"Do you really think that could ever happen, that things could just go back to the way they were?"

I didn't answer. I just looked at him, silently daring him to walk out the door. Instead he spoke, barely audible: "You know what I feel, Molly. What do you want?"

Wasn't it obvious from the way I had so generously offered him an out instead of demanding that he go?

I was forming a more coherent answer than my instincts had initially provided when he attacked again with this: "Do you love me?"

Again, silence. What the hell was I supposed to say? (Yes. I was supposed to say yes.) But I didn't. I offered something safer: "I... I just... I don't know what to..."

And he met my silent challenge by getting up and walking out the door. Just as I'd planned.

You got what you want, now you can hardly stand it, though...