The smell of red wine and champagne was overshadowed only by that of Killian Paris perfume that wallowed warmly through the air, intertwining into something warm and welcoming. Although the sound of formal chatter could be heard throughout the foyer, it remained quiet overall. Not that I was surprised at the concept of being able to hear myself think; in fact, this was the exact thing that would have driven me to utter insanity when I was young, causing my mischievous thoughts of adolescents to tug at the reigns of my less than proper decision making skills. I would have had my hand wrapped around some young woman I didn't know the name of by now, telling tales of the luxurious lifestyle that I could offer her without giving away too many details, something that always made them want to stick around and find out. Honestly it made me wonder what my parents would think if they realized the amount of times I had brought a girl home in the middle of the night, seeing as they had only been aware of the times I had actually gotten caught.

I smirked at the thought, recalling many long lectures about what was and wasn't deemed gentlemanly behavior along with the importance of using protection, which was always a lovely monologue to hear come out of your mother while she maintained full eye contact. It didn't matter, though, as I had managed to make a family name for myself as the wild one, always staying under the radar just enough to avoid a label of out of control teen. If anything, being a smooth talker was probably what got me through the vast majority of those years, only further supported by puppy dog eyes that I had learned how to manipulate people with by the time I was four years old.

That version of me had been lost long ago, now cowering in fear within some of the darkest crevices of my mind and replaced by feelings I still wasn't completely sure I understood. Years ago I'd had everything going for me; I knew who I was and what I wanted. Up until the point where I didn't. Now I had to make up for one of the worst things I'd ever done, and in order to start I had to find the person I had hurt the most. After all, that was why I was here, wasn't it? Under normal circumstances I wasn't someone who went out of his way in order to attend an art gallery, at least not without specifically being invited.

Breath. I reminded myself. You can do this.

Winding through the small crowds of overly dressed men and women, I forced myself forward. I knew where I was going, I'd been here before and he's always set up at the same spot. I couldn't help but wonder if Rob and Johnny still came around occasionally when invited. Oliver's face used to always light up at the realization that we had come to support him.

Oliver…

Just as the flood of memories began exiting my head, the tiniest hint of a giggle caught my ear.

"That one specifically was done with oil paint, although water colors are normally my first choice."

Although I could hear my childhood best friend speaking, the large crowd that had gathered was blocking him from my view. Maybe that worked in my favor, it gave me some time to think about how I was going to approach him. Technically I was interrupting him while he worked, meaning that there was a chance he would simply tell me to leave. If he told me to leave there was also a chance he would tell me to not come back. Honestly, I wasn't really expecting him to forgive me, not after what I had done to him.

Backing away slightly, I made my way toward the edge of the crowd until a head of vibrant lime green hair came into focus, his back turned to me as he continued discussing the different pieces he had on display. Paintings; sculptures… all made with his bare hands. He'd had talent before I'd left; honestly he was a great artist before we were even in secondary school, yet I could still see the clear improvement he had made throughout the last few years. Even so, Oliver had always been one of those people who was good at just about everything he tried, something that tended to annoy those close to him. By the time I had memorized piano scales, he had taken up this third instrument; by the time I'd figured out conversational English, he'd become fluent in Mandarin.

It drove me crazy.

I made my way into the crowd, grateful that it had died down to maybe twenty people total and watched him, trying to figure out how much he had changed. He was still small, no taller than 165cm and skinny as hell; I could easily have gotten an entire hand around his wrist. His hair had also gotten longer, even if I couldn't tell by how much. He had it pulled back in a loose bun that no one except him would ever be able to pull off, strands of bangs tucked behind a diamond studded ear.

Hang on… He had pierced his ears? That was definitely a new one to me.

How was I even supposed to handle this? Do I say hello? Do I just wait for him to turn around and see me? What was I even supposed to say? Hey I know I completely ghosted you and we haven't spoken for five years but how have you been?

Yeah, that would end great…

After allowing the moment to pass by, I found myself blending back into the crowd, unsure what to do other than stare at him like an idiot. He did look older, finally appearing to outgrow the baby face we had all been accustomed to at the time. Actually, I didn't even know whether or not he had still maintained a relationship with the guys. The last time I had even spoken to either of them was when Robert had gotten engaged and that was at least six months ago and with Johnny it had been even longer.

I needed to do this. I needed to explain why I left.

All I seemed to be able to do was wait, hands stuffed in my pockets and head down low. The crowd was slowly starting to die down. I was running out of time to decide, heart racing at the realization that he was beginning to take his display down, which meant that he would turn around soon. I had no excuse for why I was here outside of doing exactly what it was that I was doing. I didn't go to art displays on my own; I had only ever come to one of these because he had asked me to.

Just as I was about to turn around and leave, running away yet again from my problems, he turned my direction, large lilac eyes suddenly on me and forcing my body to a complete and utter halt. He didn't seem to understand what was happening right away, only staring at me in uncertain confusion before a look of shock filled his face. He didn't smile and yet he didn't frown either, mouth just hanging open slightly and eyebrows scrunched in bewilderment. It seemed like he wanted to speak, gears clearly turning in an attempt to figure out what to say. I'm sure that at some point he'd had an entire list of things he had wanted to tell me and that not a single one was positive, but that was what I deserved. Now, though? His mind was blank.

"Hey." I mumbled quietly, the rapid beating of my heart pulsing through my ears. "I'm sure you're wondering what I could possibly be doing here."

"No." He stated, open mouth suddenly forming into a pout as he bit at his lower lip. "I couldn't care less where you are." Turning away, he continued to pack up his belongings, pulling a phone from his back pocket and holding it to his ear with his shoulder. "Can you bring the limousine up front?" He spoke. "I'm just about ready to leave." Hanging up a bit forcefully, he continued to avoid looking anywhere near my direction, the back of his head bobbing while he worked.

"I'm sorry." I said regretfully.

"I don't even wanna hear it, Enrique. It's been five years, I'm over it. You don't owe me anything."

"I thought that maybe if I explained-"

"What even is this?" Oliver rapidly turned to me again, the anger and hurt that he'd been determined to hide was now clear on his face. I could have counted on one hand the amount of times I had seen him genuinely angry and none of them were on par with the way he currently looked into my eyes. "Are you in some sort of twelve step program or something? If you're looking for validation I'll give it to you: I'm fine. I moved on a long time ago and if you honestly wanna know, I'm doing great. I have a Bachelor's degree in the Fine Arts and a Masters in Culinary so if you think you meant enough to me to hold me back, you're wrong."

The constant smile and excitable demeanor he'd had before I left was currently nowhere to be found. What stood in front of me now was someone who I had hurt beyond repair and was determined to convince me I hadn't. Seeing me again was causing him pain that he couldn't hide no matter how much he wanted to. Five years ago, you'd have never convinced by that the person I was looking at even existed. Johnny and Robert, sure, but not Oliver.

"I'm not here because anything or anyone is telling me to be."

"I still don't care."

"I'm not asking you to. Honestly, I'm not even expecting you to. I didn't understand what I was going through at the time and I took it out on you. I was being a coward."

"What you were going through?" He laughed ironically, "Oh yeah, let's talk about what you were going through. You aren't the only person who wanted nothing to do with me after, you know. I have relatives I'm estranged from as well. I don't expect everyone to understand me; I never did."

Was that why he thought I left?

"That wasn't what it was about." I said. "We all told you from the beginning that we had already known and that it was fine."

"I'm not a fool, Enrique. I can put two and two together. I'd told you I was gay and you're entire demeanor around me changed. Do you think I don't realize that you kept in touch with Robert and Johnny? That I'm too stupid to figure out that I was the only one you cut off?"

They had told me how badly he had taken it; how hurt beyond recognition he had been. I don't think either had believed it was their place to question or intervene. While it was true that we were friends, it could be hard sometimes to say that we were truly close with one another. If anything Oliver was the one who had held us together in the first place. He was the one who went out of his way to make plans and invite us over, occasionally even inviting us to each others homes without even bothering to ask. Let's just say that for the amount of times we had ended up staying at Roberts, I don't think I had a single memory of him ever being the one to invite us there.

"That isn't why I left."

It was, but there was more to it than that. He wasn't wrong when he said we'd told him we knew; we did know. Sometimes it felt like an open secret, something we never talked about or acknowledged, but we knew.

"Don't." He put a hand up, stopping me as I attempted to step forward. "Listen, I need to go. It was nice seeing you again but I have a life to live and I'm not putting it on pause so that you can ramble excuses to me."

His driver had entered at some point, now helping him pack up and staring at me like I was some sort of predator. I knew most of his families help, but this man was unfamiliar. Turning, he raised an eyebrow to Oliver.

"Is this gentleman being a disturbance?" He asked.

"It's fine, let's just go."

My body remained frozen as they walked away, leaving me speechless and running out of excuses. I had broken our friendship beyond any form of repair; I had made the only person I knew who saw the best in everybody hate me. There was nothing I could do but watch him walk away, refusing to even give me a final glance back before exiting the building, the door closing slowly behind him. I'd never meant to hurt him, I had been selfish and allowed my own fears and emotions control me to the point where I had run as far away as I could from the part of myself that I couldn't understand. He couldn't leave without hearing the truth, the one thing I had come here to say. He needed to know why.

Forcing my legs to work again, I ran across the marble flooring and out the door, just barely catching him as he finished getting the last of his belongings into the limousine. Even without seeing me his face remained fallen. I knew that I had brought to the surface memories that he didn't want to re-experience; hurt that he didn't want to have to feel all over again. Before I could talk myself out of it and just before he lifted a foot to step into the vehicle, I grasped him around the wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey!" He yelped, almost stumbling over as he yanked himself from my grasp. "You do not have permission to touch me!"

"Five minutes!" I yelled. "Give me five minutes and I swear that, if you don't want to, you'll never have to see or hear from me again!"

Crossing his arms to his chest, he gave his driver a signal to wait, moving off to the side and away from foot traffic. He looked absolutely done with all of my shit and if I could still read his expression the way I thought I could, then I knew I was about to get an earful.

"How dare you." He said through gritted teeth. "Do you honestly think that you can just show up while I'm in the middle of a showing and apologize to me and that everything would just go back to the way it was? Do you have any idea what you put me through?"

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness; that isn't why I'm here. I'm not trying to make anything okay and I understand that you don't want to hear from me and probably never will ever again. Just… please let me explain. I was eighteen and terrified- not of you, I swear! I didn't understand what I was feeling; I was confused and scared and-"

"Oh, yes, I see. You were confused. You were scared. You were my best friend, Enrique! I knew people weren't going to be okay with me coming out, I knew that I would lose family and friends but I also knew that the ones I cared about most would be there for me. I knew my parents would still love me, I knew that my three best friends would come around. I trusted you and you know what happened? My biggest fears came true. You left and I never heard a word from you ever again. You didn't answer my calls, my texts, my emails… not even once. You blocked me on everything and the only reason I even knew you were still alive was because of Robert and Johnny, whom you continued to still keep in contact with."

"I know, and I-"

"Shut up, I'm not finished talking."

I closed my lips, taking the verbal beating he was throwing out.

"Maybe if you had left everyone, then I could believe this was some weird quarter life crisis that you were going through, but you couldn't even give me that. I spent months wishing I could just take back what I had told you, that I could continue having my own little secret if it meant things would go back to the way they were. Even when I started dating I held everyone at arms length. I smiled and laughed and acted like nothing had changed; like I was completely fine so that no one could question what I was going through. My pride was the only thing I had left and now you're gonna stand there and look me in the eyes and tell me you're sorry?"

I said nothing, only watching the pain in his eyes as everything he had bottled up within the past five years came back to the surface. There was no sadness on his face; no tears he was trying to hold back, only the disgust that he had toward me for the way I had treated him. I couldn't speak, my mouth felt dry and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

With a shake of the head, Oliver dropped his chin slightly, turning around in order to walk back toward the limousine. To leave and never have to see or hear from me again. I hadn't been able to say it… I had chickened out like the coward I was.

Not allowing a single thought more to embed itself into my head, I took hold of his temples, pulling him toward me in what felt like slow motion and locking my lips to his as my heart beat loudly in my ears. In less than a second, he had shoved me backward with force I didn't expect someone of his stature to have. His eyes were wide with shock and the tiniest bit of drool hung from the side of his lips. I wasn't sure if it was his or mine.

For what was either minutes or seconds, he just stared. It had become so silent that you could hear a pin drop, then he wrapped his hands around the back of my head and kissed me. It wasn't gentle, he clung to me like his life depended on it, his teeth even hitting mine at some point as my head and neck angled awkwardly. He finally seemed to understand what it was that I'd run away from; what I had been too much of a coward to confront all those years ago.

I had fallen in love with him.

Then I had run away.