You ready for that beer?

Falling apart

It's Monday.

The day Street's dog will be put down.

I'm early today and the first one in the locker room, partly, because I just can't face Street right now, but also because I didn't catch any sleep last night.

And by that I mean none. Not a single minute. The whole night, I rolled back and forth, my body longing for sleep, my eyes burning; but my brain just didn't get any rest. Then I remember falling to sleep, finally, and reliving the night's events in my dream. Only that Luca didn't break into our moment, that the kiss went on and on and on. That was when I woke up, blood rushing through my veins, my heart racing. And as it (stupidly) hit me that it had just been a dream, that Street and I didn't really kiss, I felt dark and empty inside.

And that's true. It wasn't really a kiss, just a slight touch of lips, feeling like the wings of butterflies.

Not enough to become something big, emotional, something real. But enough to destroy trust, friendship - everything we built the last few weeks.

I want to kiss him again.

And at the same time, I don't want me wanting that.

I hate myself for wanting that.

This can just not be it. How many times did Street hit on me? How many times did I refuse? Why is it suddenly so hard?

Deep inside, I know the answer, but I don't think about it long enough to discover the truth. I don't let me. Best would be to forget about Street right away and never have to deal with him again. Problem is, we're on the same team, see each other every day the whole day and have to protect each other's lives out there. Problem is, we're a family here, he's my best friend and my brother in one.

Problem is, he isn't anymore. He became more than that to me, which means he can't be anything at all to me from now on.

The thought already hurts as hell. Throughout my time in the hospital, Street and I talked so much and it felt so good, so easy. We connected, on a higher level. And then we made a mistake.

This was nothing more than a mistake.

That morning, in the locker room, I want to hit Street's locker like my boxing sack. But I don't and head into HQ as soon as possible, where I stare at the displays, read a book, pretend to be on my phone until the others come in.

Street's the last.

"So good to have you back, Chris!", Hondo says, slapping me on the shoulder. "Even if it's only from here."

I force a smile.

Tan nods. "But you'll be back in the field soon!"

"Yeah, even before you know it!", Luca drops in.

Deacon, calm and sensible as always, asks: "What do the doctors say, when will you be able to try the fitness test?"

Notice who didn't say anything?

Exactly.

"Seven weeks, maybe six", I answer to Deacon, my heart aching. I've destroyed something, I can sense it with every breath, and I regret it with every heartbeat. But we can't go back. Not now.

It's too late.

"Hey, before we roll ...", I hear Street's voice, hitting me like a knife. It's so quiet and gentle and kind and reminds me of the way he said Okay to me at the party. Before we kissed.

I bite my lip.

"I've got a family situation and I wanted to ask if I could get the day off", Street goes on, sounding so small and sad.

"What kind of family situation?", Hondo asks worried.

In the corner of my eye, I see Street glancing at me. "Just visiting a sick family member"

He refers to Bobby as a family member. And I seem to be the only one he talked with about his dog.

Suddenly, it hits me with a boiling hot shover.

I can't come with him today. I wanted to, I promised, but I can't now. Street is not gonna understand it and imagining him there with his dog, all alone, makes my heart ache. But we don't have a choice.

"Well, alright then", Hondo says, not asking any further questions. "You're good to go."

He hesitates. He looks at me. And now I can't resist, and I meet his eye.

One second passes. Two. I can watch him going from hopeful awaiting to irritation to hurting. What lasts, is disappointment and pain, and in his eyes, I can see something breaking.

It's ripping me apart.

Then he goes, and he doesn't look back.