Nick sat on the couch, staring at the black TV screen in front of him. He hadn't slept more than a few hours in the past month, but that's not what he was worried about. Greg's little drunken tirade hadn't gotten any better. It wasn't everyday, but it wasn't as seldom as Nick wanted it to be. Sometimes he'd just be a little drunk and go right to bed, but others he'd be completely gone and always had a few scrapes and bruises. Nick knew for a fact that Greg wasn't the most graceful person in the world, but he highly doubted even he could manage to fall down stairs that many times.

The worst part was not knowing what was happening to the person he loved more than anything. He knew Greg was lying, but couldn't do anything about it. Every time he asked, Greg got mad and defensive and Nick would end up letting it go because he didn't want to get into a fight. All he could do was sit next to Greg while he threw up and try and make him feel better. He was getting pretty good at it, too.

Nick heard a thud on the other side of the door, followed by the sound of someone slipping down the wood. By the time he was halfway to the door, Nick could hear quiet crying on the other side.

He opened the door to reveal Greg crumbled on the ground, the porch light illuminating his pale skin. His right arm and right side of his face was badly cut up, and Nick could see little pieces of glass protruding from the cuts. Greg looked up and smiled weakly, desperately wiping his tears away.

"Sorry…" He mumbled. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

Nick shook his head as he carefully picked Greg up and brought him into the house. "I don't sleep anymore."

He once again led Greg to the couch, making sure he wasn't going to pass out before going into the bathroom and getting tweezers, bandages and a warm face cloth. He came back in and sat down next to Greg, whose tears had returned to falling down his cheeks.

Nick knew better by now than to ask. He motioned for Greg to shift over and lay down so his head was resting in Nick's lap. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as Nick carefully removed the small pieces of glass and cleaned the tiny cuts. He then took Greg's arm and repeated the process, bandaging it after he was finished.

Greg slowly stood up. "At least I'm not drunk this time." He said with a sad smile. He kissed Nick's forehead gently. "I love you." He said softly before he turned and went into the bedroom, silently closing the door behind him.

Nick just stared blankly after him. Once he was fairly sure Greg had already fallen asleep, he got up and put the stuff he had used to clean Greg's cuts back in the bathroom. As he walked by the bedroom to go back into the living room, he heard Greg crying again. He paused outside of the door, contemplating what he should do. He raised his hand to open the door, but stopped before he reached the doorknob. He shook his head and walked back into the living room, grabbed his jacket and went out onto the back porch.

He sat down on the cold deck, taking his cigarettes and lighter out of his jacket pocket. He quickly lit one and took a long drag, exhaling slowly into the night air. He frowned when he realized this pack was almost gone and he would undoubtedly need another one very soon. He had been smoking for quite some time, but only a few a month. He knew it wasn't good for him, but it wasn't like he was smoking a pack a day. Yet.

Ever since Greg had started…whatever it was that was going on...Nick had found himself smoking more and more. He couldn't help it, and couldn't say truthfully that he minded all that much. No matter how bad it was for his health, smoking truly did help with the stress.

He stared out into the darkness, finishing up his first cigarette and lighting the second. He was about halfway done with that one when he heard the sliding glass door behind him open and close. He didn't turn around or look at Greg when he sat down next to him. He just inhaled more nicotine and other nameless chemicals that were rolled up in the little piece of paper in his hand.

"You smoke?" Greg asked dumbfounded.

Nick nodded as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Yeah." He said simply.

"Since when?" Greg asked, shaking his head.

Nick turned and looked Greg straight in the eyes. "Sucks not knowing stuff, doesn't it?" He said with a sarcastic smile.

Greg rubbed the back of his neck. "Nick…I told you I'm fine."

Nick twisted his cigarette into the deck before throwing the butt into the yard. He grabbed his last one from inside his pocket and put it into his mouth. He reached up with the lighter to light it, but Greg grabbed it from between his lips.

"It's really not good for you." Greg said, throwing it under the porch.

"Neither is coming home at random times drunk and cut up and lying, Greggo." Nick said, staring back out over the dark yard.

"I'm not lying to you! I'm fine!" Greg said, defensive yet again.

"Am I missing something?" Nick said, finally looking back at Greg. "Or did I just miss the part where you used to always come home drunk and looking like you've been hit by a car?" Greg didn't answer. He looked down at his feet and fell silent. "What the hell is going on, Greg? I know you better than this...it's scaring the hell out of me."

Greg looked up and brushed away the tear that was trailing down his cheek. "I…I can't tell you. Don't worry, I'm fine."

Nick nodded. "Okay, fine. What the fuck am I supposed to do then? Pretend I don't care? That's not gonna work out too well. What am I supposed to do if you don't come home one night?" Nick was almost yelling now.

"Why wouldn't I come home?" Greg asked.

"How the hell should I know?" Nick asked angrily. "I have no idea where you are half the time, and every time I ask, you freak out. I know that whatever it is you're not telling me can't be good." More tears started falling from Greg's eyes. He tried to look away, but Nick gently pulled his chin towards him, not letting Greg get away that easily. He wiped away his boyfriend's tears and said softly, "Let me help you."

Greg shook his head. "I…c-can't…"

Nick dropped his hand and sighed as he stood up and walked back into the house, leaving Greg outside on the deck by himself.

Warrick was thankful that Nick was too tired to want to try and drink everything away. He'd seen the Texan do that on numerous occasions, and that was something he didn't want to see again anytime soon.

"It keeps getting worse man." Nick said, shaking his head.

Warrick sighed. "I know…why isn't he listening?"

Nick shrugged. "I don't know. Sara's even said something to him, he won't even listen to her. Whatever it is can't be good at all…"

Warrick looked at his best friend. He was sitting on his couch again and smelling like smoke. His skin was getting paler and he was looking more and more tired every time Warrick saw him. Warrick sighed heavily again.

"When's the last time you slept?" He asked.

Nick thought for a second. "Well…today's…Monday…so that would make it…3 weeks ago?"

Warrick nodded slowly. "What are you gonna do man?"

Nick shook his head. "There's nothing I can do. I can't help him because I have no idea what's going on…as far as I can tell, he's either joined a Fight Club or is cheating on me...or both."

"Come on Nick, Greg wouldn't do that."

Nick shook his head and shrugged. "I never thought he'd do what he's doing now, either." He sighed. "I can't break up with him either…"

"You love him too much." Warrick finished for him. Nick nodded silently. "I'll try talking to him again…maybe he'll snap out of it."

Nick closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch. "I sure as hell hope so."

Greg stood in the shower, letting the hot water cascade over him. After a thorough scrubbing of his entire body, he had resorted to what he hated doing almost more than hurting Nick. No matter how much he hated both things, he couldn't stop doing them.

Greg held the razor on his skin, the blade now warm from the water. Before he could talk himself out of it, he quickly jerked his hand to the right, slicing the blade across his wrist. He stared down at the dark crimson blood flowing from the cut. He watched as the blood mixed with the water, making it turn a bright red. He didn't even flinch anymore. He ran his thumb over the other fresh cuts and ones that had turned to scars. He subconsciously counted them. Lucky number seven...

He was glad Nick never seemed to notice these cuts. Or maybe he did and he just wasn't saying anything. Greg knew he would never understand that everything he was doing was to protect him. He knew he was hurting Nick, and that was killing him. But he also knew that if he didn't do what he knew he had to, things would only get worse. And Greg wouldn't let that happen.