After hours of trying to get home, Moo was able to get nowhere, and he was more than frustrated. All the flights back to Utah were booked, and Brock wouldn't be able to go home as soon as he would have liked to. He was stuck here in LA at least until tomorrow, and that only made him feel worse. He wanted to be as far away from here as possible at the moment. It was too much, for his mind, too much for his heart. All he could think about was that girl... Her face, her smile... The way she talked about Brian; it made Brock sick to his stomach. Terroriser had been lying to him for a long time, and that made him even sicker.

Once he was sure he had all of his crying out at the moment, he managed to make it to the nearest hotel. His cheeks were red and raw, eyes heavily bloodshot, and he must have looked like a mess talking to the receptionist and trying to get a room. But he needed one, he needed a place to hide until the early morning hours, at least until he could escape to the airport and get on a flight back home. This small hotel would have to do, because Brock knew it didn't matter anyway, he just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. He wanted to forget that this entire day had ever happened.

His room was on the third floor, so he took his luggage and made his way to the elevator, trying to hold in his emotions in the process. His phone still buzzed furiously in his pocket, but he ignored it because he knew it was Brian. And Brian was the last person he wanted to talk to right now; in fact, if Brock was being honest with himself, he kind of wanted to punch Brian in the face right about now. He was angry, but he knew he wouldn't be angry forever, because deep down, he knew he still loved the Irishman. He still loved him and he knew he always would. No matter how much hurt, how much pain he put him through, there was still something about him that was enticing, that kept drawing the older man into him. He just loved him.

The elevator dinged, signaling that Moo had arrived to the third floor, and he looked down at the room key to make sure he was heading in the right direction. It was a small room, one bed, but that was all he needed. He also didn't really care. He locked the door behind him, threw his luggage aside, and sank down into the bed. At least it was comfortable. An exhale left him, and he knew he was still a mess, his head was still swimming, and he didn't know what do to. He couldn't believe that he was stuck here in LA until morning, couldn't believe that his trip with Brian was ruined, couldn't believe that Brian had been leading him on this whole goddamn time. It hurt.

After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, curiosity got the best of Brock, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket, studying the screen. He really didn't want to check his phone, but he couldn't help it, it was a habit. He had a few missed calls from Brian and Vanoss, and a few texts from them as well. He read the ones from Brian first: Are you in LA yet? Brock? Did your plane crash? Brocky, are you okay? Please call me. The older man couldn't help but to roll his dark eyes as he read every single syllable with disdain. How could he act like he cared now after everything that had happened? He wondered if the girl had told Brian she'd met Brock, but Brock didn't think so. If she had, he figured Terroriser would sound a bit more desperate in his texts.

His phone buzzed in his hand, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was an incoming call from Evan, and this time, Brock decided to answer it. After all, Evan hadn't done anything, so Brock knew he shouldn't take his anger out on the younger man. He pressed the correct button, and brought the phone to his ear, "Hello?" His voice didn't sound like his own, and he was sure it was from crying. He didn't want Evan to worry about him though either, hell, he didn't want to bring his friend into this drama. He had other things he had to worry about, other things to concern his time with. Why should he have to suffer just because Brock was suffering? But at the same time, Moo knew he needed to get this off his chest.

"Brock, where are you?" Vanoss sounded confused as he spoke into the phone.

The older man didn't think anything of it, so he answered honestly. "In a hotel, why?"

"Have you talked to Brian?" It was an odd question, especially for Evan to be asking him, but Brock was honest in his answer once more, telling Evan that he had not spoken to Brian at all today. Evan interrupted him, "Is everything alright? He's been calling and texting me nonstop asking if I know where you are." He explained, but he knew. Evan knew exactly what was going on, and it was exactly what he was afraid of happening. But Brock didn't sound too heartbroken yet, and the asian was glad for that. He could hear Brock hesitating on the other line of the phone, and he stepped in once more. "Brock you know you can talk to me, right?" It was better of him to get it out than to leave it all lingering on his chest.

A sigh left his lips, and he sat up in bed, switching the phone to his other. "Okay, first, please don't tell Brian where I am, and please don't tell him I'm in LA." That was his only request, and Vanoss agreed, curious as to why Brock had that reasoning. "So you remember when I got off the phone with you earlier? Well I went to Brian's apartment, but he wasn't there... Some girl answered the door, and Evan I..." He was trying hard not to choke up, not to get emotional or angry again, but he couldn't help it. The wound was still fresh, it still hurt him to even think about it. "I felt so dumb Evan..." He trailed off, a slow tear finally creeping down his cheek.

It was silent between them if only for a moment, "I'm sorry Brock." Even though Brock could only muster out about a girl, Vanoss knew exactly what he was talking about, and guilt immediately filled him as he heard the sadness in his friend's voice. It was something he wouldn't wish on anyone.

"You don't have to apologize... You're not the one leading two people on." The older man scoffed as he listened to his friend over the phone.

Evan hesitated, "But I knew."

Brock's heart nearly stopped beating in his chest when Evan spoke those three words. "Knew what?" He barely managed to get out. He felt his face growing hot again, tears blinding his dark eyes. "You knew he had a girlfriend?" He was yelling now, and even though he didn't want to, he couldn't help it. He was pissed. What else was he going to find out today? "Evan why didn't you tell me? You're supposed to be my friend! And you told me to make a move on him!" Brock was pacing the tiny hotel room now, his breaths coming out in short bouts. He almost hung up on the younger man, but his better side told him not to, it told him to stay on the phone, to listen to Vanoss' reasoning.

"Look, I know you're mad but I didn't want to hurt your feelings! I knew how much you liked him, fuck, loved him!" He argued in reply. "And to be fair I didn't know he had a girlfriend until we all went out to dinner together. He told Tom." He continued to talk but again, Brock zoned out, only focused on Brian and how much this hurt. Brian could tell Tom he had a girlfriend? But he couldn't tell Brock, his best friend? Couldn't tell the other guys? Why was he hiding that girl, and why was she such a fucking secret? "I'm really sorry Brock, and you can be mad at me all you want, but I thought I was doing the right thing." Evan continued.

"This isn't your fault." Brock replied quickly. "I'm still mad at him, not you... And if you don't mind, I really just want to be alone right now."

Evan nodded, "I understand... Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Thanks, I will."

"I'm sorry Brock, I really am." Evan said.

"Yeah." Brock finished before hanging up the phone and throwing it down on the bed. He ran his hands over his face, rubbing his wet eyes. Everything was slipping out of his grips faster than he could muster. And if he was mad before, then he was really mad now. Not at Vanoss, not at Tom, not at Brian's girlfriend, he was just pissed at Brian. The man that he was in love with took his heart and smashed it to pieces, took it and played with it, and it made Brock's chest hurt with indescribable pain. He knew right then and there that this is what it must have felt like to have your heart broken, and he wondered right there at that moment what was going through the Irishman's head as well.

His phone buzzed again, and he sighed angrily knowing all too well that it was Brian again. He wished that the younger man would just leave him alone, wished he would stop blowing up his phone. Without thinking, he sent a simple text, turned his phone off, and crawled into the bed. He buried himself underneath the covers, hoping morning would come quickly, hoping he could get back home soon. Nothing mattered anymore, he just needed to get the hell out of LA, get all of this mess sorted out, get his feelings in order. And he knew Brian had to do the absolute same, and he wasn't going to talk to him until he had everything in his corner fixed as well.

Meanwhile, Brian could only stare at his phone in his hands. He could only stare at the simple line that Brock had texted him. This was it, this was everything. He knew he had fucked up and he knew that there was nothing he could do to fix it. It was such a crazy situation, what could he do to fix this? Brock was hurt, it was obvious from the text message, and Brian hated himself for hurting him like that. He had wasted too much time, hadn't taken care of things in the first place like he should have. This whole thing could have been prevented by him if he would have just been a man. He hurt the people he loved and now it was too late. He didn't blame his boyfriend if he never wanted to talk to him ever again. It was hopeless, and Brian knew he couldn't change anything like this.

Please just leave me alone Bri, I don't want to talk to you.