Straight

XXVI

He tries his hardest not to break down, to keep it together, but fuck, is it ever hard. 
He's tried, tried so hard to go back to where he was, but now he knows he can't. And right now he's pretty sure he will never be able to. Oh, why the fuck did they even go there? Why can't he go back? 
And now he'll have to go home, or something, explain to his mum why he's there at two in the morning. Why he's half drunk. Why he's half crying. 
He's gotten up from the couch without thinking and is pacing Jill's small room, wondering what to do. Suddenly Jill's hand is on his shoulder. 
"Eddy. Hey. Calm down, mate."
He turns around, even though she'll be able to see that there are tears in his eyes. 
"I... I should go."
She shakes her head calmly. 
"Nah. Just sleep here, now. You're too fucked up for me to let you go home alone. I'll get a blanket and you can have the couch. We have to be up in like five hours."

He doesn't have it in him to protest, anymore, he just accepts the blanket and crashes down on Jill's sofa bed, turning his face into the back wall as if it can shut out the world. Jill sits with him for just a moment, her hand on his shoulder again. 
"Look, Eddy... I'm not one for telling people what to do, but I really do feel you should consider talking to him. You two are basically joined at the hip, so..."

He cringes at her words, cringes at the thought of telling Brett he's in love with him and Brett turning away from him in disgust. He's seen it often enough in his dreams, right? He can't tell Jill, though. He can't say that, articulate that. It's too big. 
"I... I'll think about it." 
She goes to bed and he lies awake, staring at the couch cushions in the gloom. 
How is he going to carry on now? How is he going to be around Brett, and not have him see? 
He's failed. He knows that. He had his chance last night, his chance to go back to where he was before, to the place he would have died to be in a week before. He could have had sex with a pretty girl, go out with her again in the weekend. And he's fucked it all up. He lies as still as he can, so he doesn't disturb Jill, and he stews. 

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because Jill's alarm clock wakes him up. 
Fuck. He's exhausted. He drags himself up from the couch and smiles awkwardly at Jill. 
He's going to have to go to the con in exactly the same outfit as yesterday, but there isn't much he can do about that. He watches Jill surreptitiously as she flits around the room. She turns her back to him as she pulls another blouse out of her little wardrobe and he averts his eyes quickly. 

The walk to the con is silent. I mean, what's he going to say? She knows, basically everything. Much more than anybody else does. And he's seen the sympathetic glances she's given him, but he guesses she has no idea what to say either. Only when the big building is already coming up in the distance does she suddenly pipe up. 
"Hey, Eddy? Don't worry too much, yeah?"
He shrughs. 
"Jill... just... I'm sorry. And... thanks."
She laughs softly. 
"Like I said. Don't worry too much. It's all good."
"Thanks."
He can't help his pounding heart as he walks into the con. Because really, right now, he hasn't got the first idea of what he's going to say to Brett.