In my narrow, single bed it was easy to know what had happened the moment I awoke.

I was alone. Spread out over the bed, lingering in his warmth. But he wasn't there.

I suddenly felt cold to the bone. My rationality jumped in, reminding me that we didn't love each other, that we were through, that this had been an act of… of cleansing, of removing what was old.

But reason couldn't remove the new, fresh fright piercing my heart. He was gone. I would never see him again. I thought the worst-case situation without even questioning it, and leapt out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

When I opened the door, I heard the coffee maker running, and breathed out, slowly coming out of the dreamy state that sized up emotions to ridiculous extremes.

If nothing else, we were still friends, right?

I entered the kitchen, and found him by the counter, staring dispassionately at the steady drip of coffee into the pot.

"I thought you had left," I said, smiling nervously. He kept staring at the pot.

"I was going to."

"What?"

He looked at me, eyes dark. "I was going to leave. I was going to take you out as a friend, seduce you and leave you."

The fear returned again, and its size suddenly didn't seem ridiculous. I gaped, no words escaping my rapidly tightening throat.

"You asked how I got your address. I got it from your university. In case you would get too drunk to tell me where you lived. I have seen it when we have met, that you are lonely and miserable, even if you put on a smile. I was going to take advantage of that. Because you could move in and out of relationships with no problems, it seemed. You were always happy before; no problems seemed to get to you, you floated on top of life, happily ignoring whatever pain you caused. For me, for Torres, for your family. They kept in touch with me, you know. You always got out on top."

He turned around, leaning back against the counter, staring at the floor.

"At least that is the picture I have made for myself," he said, voice low and bitter. "But you've hurt too."

That seemed to be all he had to say. A minute of silence passed, before I finally broke out of my paralyzed state.

"So now what?" I said bitterly. "You'll just leave and forget this ever happened? Disappear?"

He looked up, meeting my eyes. "No. That was what I was planning to do yesterday, before… before everything. I just wanted to tell you what an asshole I was planning to be. And ask you to forgive me. I helped you through something yesterday, but whether you noticed or not, you helped me too. I'm sorry for wanting to hurt you."

I managed to get a grip on myself. I didn't run off, I didn't hit him, I didn't snap. I stood still, looking into his eyes, letting the words settle.

"When did you decide not to leave?" I asked.

"Just before you woke up."

"So you still wanted to hurt me even after…"

"No. I had forgotten all about it. I forgot it when I saw the spiders. I didn't remember it until I woke up. And then I knew that I couldn't leave. But I couldn't stay unless I told you everything."

"And now?" I asked, stepping forward. He straightened up.

"Start over?" he suggested. "As friends – for now?"

He held out a hand, and I walked over, took it and pulled myself into his arms.

"Yeah," I whispered. "Friends."~

~ ~ ~

Fin