Adrian stood at Gaven’s door.

It had been several days since their argument. At least two. Well, he wasn’t entirely sure—time passed strangely when you were on as many drugs as Adrian was. Night and day just sort of meshed together. It was like being in a prison cell, or thousands of feet underwater. He lost track of hours easily.

But it didn’t matter because Adrian always ended up on Gaven’s doorstep somehow.

The keys weighed heavily in his pocket. He didn’t touch them. Adrian wasn’t sure if he was still welcome in Gaven’s home. He was under the impression that he always was, but at the same time he had never been in a fight quite like this with Gaven. He didn’t know the limits anymore, because there were no limits set.

He stood there for a good five minutes, just staring at the door. In all honesty, Adrian wasn’t even sure if Gaven was even home. He was somewhere else a lot, living that part of his life that Adrian would never be a part of, if only because he didn’t know how to be.

He didn’t know if anything would ever be the same again.

Adrian swayed a bit. He had done a bender before he came here. Swished some pill back with some wine. It was the only way he could bring himself to enter Gaven’s apartment complex and walk up to Gaven’s door. In the long run, what was he? A coward, maybe. He had enough balls to break Gaven’s boundaries, but was too afraid to apologize to him.

He lifted his hand more than once to knock, but each time let his hand fall.

He was sorry. So, so sorry. But at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions. Deep down he thought Gaven was a bigger coward than he was. That worried him. Would his apology even be authentic if he doubted?

But he had to at least try. Maybe things would never be the same again, but he could not lose Gaven. And it terrified him that he was so fucking close to doing so.

So he screwed his eyes shut and reached up, hesitantly, nervously, knocked on the door.

Gaven hadn't left his apartment since his argument with Adrian. Just a fight, he told himself, because he had always prided himself on being the practical one, the one who thought things through. Lots of people have fights. Every day. It's not a big deal. And it was his logic, his practicality that made him worry: he and Adrian had never had a fight. Minor squabbles, maybe, but nothing that had lasted over, say, fifteen seconds. Nothing serious.

It had given him the shakes, made him feel like a pubescent girl who'd just had a row with her boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

What the hell did Adrian want from him, anyway?

He sat on the couch with a pillow in his lap, eyes glued to the television and a textbook open on the coffee table in front of him. It'd been on the same page for at least six hours-- "fifteen minutes" of TV had kind of ballooned out, and he was toying with the idea of crawling into bed for a nap when he heard the knocks at the door.

Gaven's shoulders tensed. He knew it was Adrian. It had to be Adrian. He heaved himself to his feet, moving to the door and pulling it open, and despite the fact that he KNEW who would be standing there, his face still registered surprise.

"Oh," he said softly. "Hi."

His face was as pale as usual, but there were dark hollows under his eyes, like he hadn't slept very much the night before. It was hard to sleep when you kept rolling over and expecting to thump against a warm body that kept not being there. He opened his mouth. He shut it. He tried again.

"Can I help you with something?"

Adrian had to practically restrain himself from just reaching over and gathering Gaven in his arms. That would be good; hey Gav, I'm here to apologize by overstepping your boundaries, let me make you more uncomfortable by doing it again. But Gaven looked so tired. All of a sudden Adrian just wanted everything to be better. He wanted this whole damn mess to just have not ever happened. He wanted to just stroll in, sit on the couch, ask if Gaven had a beer and put on a show that he knew Gaven would like.

But Gaven sounded so cold, so distant. Like a cashier talking to a customer. Adrian had a hateful moment—did Gaven even care? He braced himself with one hand on the doorframe. His arm was shaking, just slightly. He wanted to collapse with relief at seeing Gaven—his best friend was more of a drug than anything he could take.

"Gaven." His voice was hoarse. "I'm—" He swallowed, tried again. "I'm sorry. You were right. I shouldn't have—" He shook his head, looked away. God, he hated this. He hated drama. He just wanted everything to be normal.

Gaven closed his eyes for a second, as if he were debating on whether to acknowledge the apology or not. "You're shaking," he said instead, and when he opened his eyes back up, he was staring at Adrian's arm. "What kind of things did you do while you were gone?" His words weren't callous, but almost reprimanding. Afraid, too, though he probably would have had a massive coronary on the spot if Adrian told him the entire truth.

"Look," he said, and rubbed at his throat with one hand. Relief was washing over him in heavy buckets, almost enough to make him sick. Adrian had been so angry; Gaven was afraid he had lost his best friend already. "...just come in for a few minutes. Rest some. We'll.. talk later."

He was having trouble looking him directly in the face, but he took a few steps back to allow Adrian entrance.

Gaven really did look like shit. Even his fingernails - while weren't filthy - weren't in the immaculately trimmed and compulsively clean state they frequently remained in. In fact, they looked a little chewed.

Adrian shook his head. Gaven didn’t need to know about that. It would cause more unnecessary problems.

Gaven wasn’t accepting his apology. Adrian didn’t move from the door. That anger and frustration that he had felt during the first fight sparked into life for a moment, before fizzling away. He didn’t look up from the spot he was staring at so fiercely on the floor, but his knuckles were white against the doorframe.

“What’s the matter, Gaven?” His voice was low. He tried not to sound angry and hurt, but he couldn’t help it. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I fucked up and—and. I shouldn’t have done it. I meant it, and I still mean it, but you don’t want it and—” This wasn’t exactly going how he had planned. He pushed away from the doorframe. “I should just go.”

But he didn’t walk away. Didn’t run away again. Just stared at Gaven for a moment, wanting him to tell him to stay, needing to feel welcome when all he felt was a wall.

Gaven winced at Adrian's words and squinted at the floor as if he were fighting off-- well, not tears, Gaven hadn't cried in years, but maybe the impression of tears. The feeling of tears, sad, helpless, frustrated, angry tears. He was fiercely angry, probably the most pissed off he had been ever. He just couldn't pinpoint the source of his anger.

"It's okay. It's okay. We- I should have- when you.." He frowned at himself, puckered his lips. Gaven wasn't used to having to search so deeply for words, and he inhaled sharply when he looked up. "... I forgive you. Just come in. Please." The last word was a request, not a command, and an imploring one at that. Don't leave me alone again, his face said, but just for a bare second, and he rocked his weight awkwardly back onto his heels.

He dragged the tip of his tongue along his lips. "We just need to-- talk about things is all, I think. I think, at least."

Gaven tried to smile at him.

Adrian searched Gaven's face for a moment, before walking around him into the apartment. He was careful to avoid touching Gaven at any part. It was the touching that got him in trouble, right? He hated this. He hated how awkward everything felt. Nothing was ever awkward between him and Gaven, but now he wanted to bolt.

He sat down on the couch. Didn't flop down like he usually did, but eased down slowly as if he was still deciding whether to just run or not.

Adrian was a wreck.

But it only showed in his eyes.

Actually, Adrian was looking better than he had in years. His skin had lost that sallow hue to it and seemed to regain that glow he had when he was in high school. His hair, normally slightly lank even with all the products he put in, seemed fuller, brighter, shinier. His eyes were still ringed, and his cheeks still a little sunken in, but Adrian, well, Adrian looked amazing.

Except there was a perpetual expression of leashed agony on his face, just with a little grimace at his lips. He wasn't used to feeling so damn down all the time.

He itched for a cigarette, but wasn't sure what he should use for an ashtray.

He would let Gaven start. Gaven understood more than he did. Adrian loved Gaven, Gaven rejected Adrian, and Adrian wanted an explanation.

"You look.." Gaven started, sitting maybe a foot and a half away from Adrian. He folded his hands in his lap and for the first time since Adrian came in, really looked at him. "..good. You really do look good." He hesitated for a moment, as if he were extremely confused. He knew that he looked like a sack of crap, himself.

He hesitated, shifted awkwardly, then grabbed the television remote off of the coffee table to flick the set off. Judge Judy wasn't the most appropriate mood music. "I'm glad you came back," he said in a slightly strained voice that suggested he had thought that Adrian might have not. He pulled one leg up on the couch with him, then restlessly lowered it back to the floor.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, where he was supposed to go from there. He wanted Adrian back, but he felt like he couldn't afford to let their relationship take that step to the next level. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many things to lose.

Gaven lifted heavy-lidded eyes to his best friend. He loved him more than anything. He just wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to fully trust him as a lover.

Adrian looked a little surprised at this. He tended to avoid looking at mirrors because he was afraid of what he was going to see. He shouldn't be alive. Maybe he turned into a monster. He was sure, at least, he looked as terrible as he felt. He coughed a little bit in his hand, forced himself not to let it get worse. Lately he had been coughing up black phlegm. It was as if his body was suddenly injected with this natural detox that was forcing his organs back into capable working order. He was still a little on the thin side, but didn't seem quite as degenerated. "Really." His tone expressed his surprise. Added on silently, I feel like shit.

The space between him and Gaven was like a cavern.

He frowned at Gaven. Of course he would come back. There shouldn't have been any question in the matter. "Look, Gaven. I know I made a big fucking mistake by kissing you. I shouldn't have done that, and I'm so, so sorry. I don't know if I can say that enough. But I meant it when I said I love you. I even meant the kiss. And you keep saying you shouldn't have kissed me back. I just want to know why." He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, played with the top. Pulled one out, but ultimately pushed it back in. "Just give me a reason, Gav. An explanation. That's all I want."

What he would do with the explanation, he didn't know. Possibly try to prove himself worthy. He just didn't understand why he had to. Was he really that untrustworthy? It killed him a little that Gaven had such little faith in him.

Gaven fidgeted with his hands, chewed on a pale knuckle for a moment, and then finally gave a quietly frustrated sound. ".. I believe that you love me. And that you meant it." He struggled. "I meant it, too. When I kissed back. It's just that... we wouldn't work that way, Adrian."

He pressed his face into his hands and rubbed his cheeks hard, as if he could osmose the right words to say from his palms to his brain by rubbing hard enough. "I'm not-- a huge fan of sex. Would you be able to stop sleeping around? I can barely handle the thought of my best friend out there taking God know what types of drugs, I'm not sure I could take it if you were..."

Gaven was having trouble making sense. He rubbed his face again.

".. I care too much about you, Adrian. I'm scared. That's why I can't be with you, and I'm sorry. But I won't change my mind."

For a long moment, Adrian sat frozen, just staring at Gaven. Then he stood up abruptly and went to the balcony.

God.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. He leaned on the balcony railing and pulled out a cigarette lighting it with a shaking hand. It was that. Gaven didn't trust him. They had been friends for years and Gaven didn't fucking trust him.

Adrian leaned an elbow on the balcony and raked his fingers through his hair, propping himself up. No, that wasn't fair. Gaven had every damn reason not to trust him. It wasn't as if Adrian gave him much of an option. He got it. He understood.

"Fuck."

He was violently furious. He wanted to rage, to break things, to punch something, but he couldn't. The only thing he could do was hate himself, and even hate Gaven a little bit.

Something inside Gaven broke when he saw that expression wash across Adrian's face, and when he stormed up and outside to the balcony, Gaven pressed his hands on his knees and leaned forward to squint at the carpet.

How was he supposed to have answered? He couldn't think of what he could have said to keep Adrian from getting upset. I'm straight? Hell. Straight guys didn't snuggle with their friends in bed.

Gaven heaved himself to his feet and loitered in his living room for a minute. He made it to the door of the balcony eventually, bracing himself with one hand against the frame, breathing quietly and fighting to think of something to say.

"Stay here tonight. I've got some drinks-" two bottles of some strong alcohol that an acquaintence had given him when she wanted to hide them from her mom "-and we can. I don't know. Drink them."

It was a soft, begging offer, one that he only made because he trusted himself drunk.

"..or we could play Scrabble or something. I've got Pictionary in my closet. I don't know. Just don't leave. Please." Gaven started to realize then just how distraught he was himself, and stifled the bubbling output of words.

Adrian tensed a bit when he heard Gaven, before relaxing and sighing. He shook his head. Didn't know what he was shaking his head about. He didn't know if he wanted to stay at Gaven's apartment, but he wasn't really sure if he could leave.

"It's fine, Gaven." He felt thoroughly rejected. "Or, I don't know. Get the drinks if you want. I don't care." He slid his fingers the rest of the way through his hair, then leaned completely on the railing.

He sort of resigned himself to his fate. He couldn't leave when Gaven asked like that. "I'm not going anywhere." Then again, he might not leave the balcony the entire night. Gaven might have control over himself when he was drunk. Adrian obviously lacked self-restraint.

Gaven sighed deeply, torn between going to get the drinks and remaining there to watch Adrian. He had never see him so, well, upset before, and he was pretty sure he'd never been the actual cause of the hurt feelings before.

"Thanks," he said in a whisper, then cleared his throat and repeated it in audible tones. "I'll go get them. Meet me in the living room?" And he didn't wait for him to answer, just hurried to the kitchen and nearly dropped the bottle of alcohol when he was retrieving it. It felt like the blood was rushing to his face, like his ears were stuffed with cotton, and he had to grip the edge of the counter to keep himself from falling flat on his ass.

Gaven shivered when it passed and downed three of his iron pills as an afterthought. He'd bought a bottle of fifty about six months ago with the instructions to take two a day, every day, and was only down about half the bottle. He shoved the bottle out into the middle of the counter, as if to remind himself they were there tomorrow, and headed over to the couch. He'd wait for Adrian if he had to.

Adrian took a little longer than necessary outside, smoking a good two more cigarettes before he could bring himself to go back in. He paused at the door, leaned against the frame. It wasn't supposed to be awkward like this.

He walked over to Gaven and sat on the coffee table in front of him, resting his hands on his knees and looking him in the eye. "I could do it, you know. I could be loyal. So if you ever want to honestly give it a try, just let me know. But," he said this quickly, as if afraid Gaven was going to cut him off, "I'm not going to pressure you into anything, either. Please, just trust me on that one."

He linked his fingers together and looked down at his hands for a moment, before glancing back up at Gaven's eyes. "So, you know. You could hug me, if you want. I'm not going to read too much into it."

Gaven seemed caught, almost confused. "I'll think about it," he promised softly and held Adrian's eyes with his own long enough to hopefully impress that he really meant he'd think about it, that it wasn't just some placating lie. And he would think about it. He'd probably keep lying awake and thinking about it, like he had for the past few nights.

He sat still for a moment longer, his own hands being wrung in his lap, before he cracked a small, jagged smile at Adrian's last comment.

"Well, good," he said, finally, and there was an aching sense of relief in his tone. He leaned foward on the couch, wrapping his lanky arms a bit awkwardly around Adrian's shoulders. "Is Scrabble out of the question?"

He squeezed him almost apologetically.

Adrian wrapped his arms tightly around Gaven, one hand holding the back of his head gently while the other tight across his back. He pressed his lips against Gaven's hair, not really kissing him but almost. "Thank you," he murmured. His own body seemed to relax, so completely relieved that, for the moment, the awkwardness seemed broken.

"And if you break out the Scrabble, I will fucking eat the pieces. I swear."

"What's wrong with Scrabble?" Gaven complained softly and closed his eyes when he felt Adrian's breath in his hair. This is wrong, some part of his brain told him. You shouldn't be acting like this. It's not- casual. You can't just go back to normal, it continued, and Gaven inhaled shakily.

He sat back, just a bit, though he didn't pull his arms fully from Adrian's shoulders.

"I wasn't lying, though," he said softly after a moment. "You really do look good. Even your hair--.." He trailed off and shrugged.

"Nothing's wrong with it. Esepcially since I could kick your ass any day. Just—not right now, I guess. I'd rather just hang out with you." Sometimes, Adrian could be a total sap. He wasn't sure where this side of him came from, but he was sure it had something to do with Gaven.

Adrian looked puzzled again when Gaven pulled back. "Do I? I mean, really? I haven't looked at myself in awhile." Which was funny, since Adrian was so fucking narcissistic. "I—don't know." But the pause said he did know and wasn't comfortable telling Gaven.

Gaven heard the pause and was stricken just a little bit by the weight of it. Well, if Adrian wanted to keep secrets... He frowned softly at himself and twisted on the couch so that his shoulder was resting firmly against his friend's. Adrian's body heat and the sheer respite from the awkward tension made him unforgivably drowsy for just a bare second.

"Yeah," Gaven agreed finally, just because he realized he hadn't. "Rather just hang out with you, too." But the knot hadn't gone away in his stomach yet. "You still want a drink?" He motioned lazily to the bottle on the coffee table.

Adrian shifted from the coffee table to the couch and grabbed the bottle in a silent 'yes'. He mulled his words over in his head for a second and frowned. He could read Gaven. They'd been friends long enough for at least that. He smiled a bit wryly. Well, okay, he could read Gaven, but he had the unfortunate habit of apparently reading too much into things, too.

"It's not like I'm keeping it a secret from you because I don't want to tell you. It's just. It's just, well, really weird. And I don't think you would react very well to it." And yet there he went. Now that he was this far, he was probably going to end up spilling everything to Gaven regardless.

Gaven gently reached over to tug on Adrian's wrist, as if asking for a drink from the bottle. "Don't hide things from me," he said, and it was a half-question as he glanced sidelong at Adrian. He was a little afraid of the last comment, though: what was Adrian going to say? 'I ran off and got eloped while we were fighting?'

And then he realized that the thought upset him more than he cared to admit to even himself.

"Just spill it. We're big boys, and I promise not to freak out." There was a silent again tagged onto the end of his sentence.

"I think this is a little different than anything else we've ever gone through, Gav." He raked his fingers nervously through his hair and handed the bottle over. What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, well, after the fight I went out and got fucked up. Like, beyond fucked up. Like I should have been dead fucked up. But it wasn't like I was trying to commit suicide! I just sort of didn't have any limits anymore because, hey, I can't die.'

Yeah, that would go over very well.

He was sort of repelled by himself. Adrian always knew he was a little weird. Eccentric. He did stuff like eat Scrabble pieces in a form of protest and lie out in the middle of a street and smoke a cigarette. He just never really realized he was abnormal. The edgy fear that accompanied the idea that he should be dead creeped into his brain again, but he stamped on it because Adrian was the king of avoidance when it came to admitting things about himself.

Gaven had known since the moment that he met Adrian that he was unnatural. That was part of his charm. He ate crayons. He went to class in third grade with neon shades of hair. He was weird, and crazy, and Gaven loved it. So when Adrian told him that this was something different, something new, Gaven just looked at him and nodded. "Hey. It's okay," he said softly. "We'll deal."

And part of him knew that it might be something weird. Knew that there had always been weird things going on beneath the surface in Bayfield. He had just kind of assumed that it was like that everywhere.

He rubbed his knees and then, as an afterthought, took another long drink of the alcohol (nearly choking himself) as a precaution.

Adrian took the bottle with Gaven without asking and guzzled down a bit, completely unaffected by the burn in his throat from the alcohol. He set it on the table after a moment and stretched his hands out in front of him. There was chipped red nail polish on his fingernails. He wondered how it got there, but was pleased that it matched his favorite scarf.

"So," he said. "I don't think I can die."

Gaven stared at Adrian for a moment and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had he fried himself out beyond repair?

He lurched forward impulsively, taking one of the hands spread out in front of Adrian and holding it clumsily, like a middleschool boyfriend would.

"What are you talking about? That's crazy, Adrian. You know that." His voice was quiet, as if hoping Adrian would interject with "hah, just kidding."

Adrian looked a little panicked for a moment, before stopping that fear before it even got started. "Well, yes. I know. But I can't." He coughed a bit and looked up at Gaven's face. He cracked a crooked grin. "HA. You totally think I'm crazy." Adrian looked completely amused about this, since Gaven was always the one who seemed to see a little bit of normality in him. Or at least, could handle his oddities.

"Yeah, I do," Gaven said levelly, and didn't let go of Adrian's hand. He clung a little more tightly to it, actually. "I think you've gone off the deep end, and I'm really worried about you." There was a soft, underlying tone of panic in his voice. "Promise me you won't like-- walk off any buildings or in front of any cars or anything."

He squeezed his fingers tightly, distressed. "You should just stay here until you- I mean.. listen to yourself, Adrian." Gaven looked almost stricken.

Adrian actually laughed. Which probably did not help in his whole 'sane' case. He rubbed his eyes with his fists, perhaps looking like the kid he used to be. It was all just too unreal. "Okay, Gav. I did. Go a little crazy, that is." He held up his hand. "I wasn't trying to kill myself or anything, I just—didn't really have any limits right now. Gaven, I should be dead right now."

Gaven squinted again. It was starting to make a little more sense. Well, he hoped it was starting to make a little more sense. "So, you mean," he said quietly, trying his best to puzzle this out. "Something happened where you should have died, and you didn't?"

He slid his fingers through his hair and exhaled. "Adrian, that's luck. Or religion, depending on how you see things. You can't peg-- immortal off of a car missing you when you're jaywalking." Typical guy trying to reason this out.

"Nah. That's not it at all. I mean." He paused. Considered if he should tell Gaven everything. Wasn't really keen on it. He decided it probably wasn't a good idea. If Gaven knew, he would probably have a heart attack.

"Never mind. Maybe I am crazy. Hey, you haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately, have you?" He frowned a bit at Gaven. "And I bet you've been eating like, what, one piece of lettuce a day?" Fucking rabbit food. He could never figure out why Gaven didn't like meat.

"Some carrots, too," Gaven said and eyed the alcohol a little warily. He had just realized that drinking on a stomach that hadn't had a proper meal in about two days probably wasn't the best idea. It wasn't like he had thrown himself into the throes of woe and decided not to eat; his stomach had just been faintly nauseated since their argument. Huh. It was still weird to admit that they had had an argument.

He licked his lips, and decided he needed to dig out his chapstick. "No, don't 'never mind' me. I do think you're going crazy," he admitted, "but I want to know what the heck you're talking about."

Adrian shot Gaven a chastising look, but really couldn't reprimend him verbally. It wasn't as if he was taking good care of himself, either. "Why don't we go to some vegan restaurant tomorrow? There's this own with an awesome Greek pizza." Leave it to Adrian to know random stuff like this.

He reached over to take the bottle again, frowning slightly. "I don't know, Gav. It's kind of hard to explain if you're not going to believe me, anyway. Let's just say I took more drugs than humanly possible?" He paused. "Way more."

"Were you trying to kill yourself?" Gaven asked incredulously, then shot Adrian a dark, worried look. "...you need to be careful. I mean, some of that stuff.." He sighed and shook his head, pulling his legs up onto the couch with him, not bothering to reach for the bottle again. He was pretty sure he was done with it for the night. Some party this had turned out to be.

"You didn't end up in the hospital, did you? Damn it, Adrian.." He leaned back hard against the seat. "And yeah. Greek pizza sounds awesome."

Adrian rolled his eyes. "Didn't I just tell you I wasn't trying to kill myself, Gav? I just didn't have any limits anymore. I didn't go off to pass out in some alley. I mean, look at me. Do I look like I've spent my time trying to survive in a hospital? I don't know, Gaven, I've been avoiding looking in a mirror because, fuck, I should look like a monster right now. Or something." But his skin looked healthy, which didn't make any fucking sense at all.

"In any case, with the amount I took I wouldn't have even made it to the hospital."

Gaven inhaled a little bit sharply. "I'm sorry, I believe you, it's just... a little hard to swallow, okay? And thinking about you taking that much stuff." He paused, looked away from him toward the television. "I don't want to think about it, alright? Just promise me you won't do it again. Won't test that theory out."

He pushed himself to his feet suddenly, offering his hand out to Adrian to help him up. "Come on. I want you to see yourself."

Adrian nodded wordlessly, considering his situation. No, he wouldn't test the theory out, but how did he know his limits anymore? He could take whatever the fuck he want and walk away with his brain still functional and heart not exploding. So if he could take all the drugs in the world and not die, how much was too much? He decided not to bring this up to Gaven, instead grabbing his friend's hand and slowly pushing himself up.

"All right," he said slowly, hesitantly. He wasn't really sure he wanted to see himself. The idea of him looking good was as frightening as the idea of him looking like a monster.

And Gaven believed him, even if he didn't believe he believed him. There was something wrong with Bayfield, something weird. It felt scummy sometimes to him, like the city was pulsing with secrets, but Gaven had never let himself look. He believed that Adrian had binged like crazy and come out unscathed: what he was afraid of was could he pull it off twice?

He pulled him wordlessly by his fingers to the small bathroom, gently taking him by the arm and pushing him toward the mirror. "Look."

Adrian looked.

His eyes widened. Whatever he expected, this was not it. He knew his skin had looked better, but he never realized. His hair was shiny, his muscles seemed to be rebuilding themselves, and even that awful yellowish tinge that had colored his sclera's had disappeared, leaving clear white surrounding his irises. There were still circles around his eyes, and he could stand to gain a couple pounds, but Adrian looked like he should have looked at twenty-two—young, healthy, and not as if he was falling apart from the inside out.

It frightened him.

Adrian looked quickly away, preferring to see Gaven than this stranger in the mirror.

"I don't know." There was a slightly panicky note to his voice. "Jesus, Gaven, I don't know. What's the matter with me?"

"Well, it doesn't look like... I mean.." Gaven squinted again. He did that alot when he was thinking, or distressed, or concerned. Well, he just did it a lot. "...you look great, Adrian. You look like you've been taking care of yourself. Eating your vegetables."

Gaven snagged the hem of Adrian's shirt with his fingers, pulling himself a little closer and tilting his head up slightly to address him. "Did anything happen to you? I mean, while you were on that binge. No one-- did anything to you, did they?" He was grasping at straws now. Adrian's panic was infecting him.