He'd done it. He'd ruined my life. I sat up in my bed, head resting on my knees, cheeks stained with tears. I never cried. How could he have done this to me?

All of these years we'd been friends. I trusted him. I would have taken a bullet for him. I would have done anything- right up until the moment I opened that door, to find him shagging my girl, my Paula.

I was going to propose next week. But now everything was gone. Down the drain, wrecked, demolished. And it was his fault. I thought I knew him, and he threw away my life.

My head was swimming with thoughts. What was going to happen next? Would we still be friends? Could I ever trust him again? And what about her? I cringed. It hurt to think about her- the image of her being pleasured by another man was still burned into my retinas. My hands shook as the horrifying act replayed itself again and again in my mind.

"I saw that day… Lost my mind…Lord, I'm fine…"

A sharp knock on the door caught my attention, making me jump. "Who…who'sere?" I called, lifting my head a bit. "S' Murdoc. C'n I come in?" He asked, muffled by the wood. I stiffened. How could he have the audacity to come to me after what he'd done? "No." My voice wavered slightly, surprising me. Murdoc seemed amazed by it as well, but tried to hide it. "Ah- Listen, I just want to talk….Its' about the whole 'thing' that happened with me and the broad…"

I twitched slightly at the carelessness in his tone, how he was probably having a smoke outside my door- I hated smoking. "Ah don' wanna talk wif you." I said, closing my eyes and trying to relax. Maybe he would just leave me alone to sulk. Forever. "Aw, c'mon Faceache, y'know you do." He said, exhaling deeply, using his favourite nickname for me. It hurt to think that he thought everything could go back to normal after what he'd done. "Lemme in, or I'm breakin' down the door."

I grunted, frustrated, and got up from the bed. The walk to the door seemed to take forever. I didn't want to see his face. Slowly, I opened the door to see him standing there, hands in his pockets, wearing his same old shit-faced grin. I grimaced, stepping out of the way to let him stroll inside, his Cuban heels making stifled clicking noises against my threadbare carpet. I could see him looking around my room, judging me for everything I was worth. I had already ripped down the picture of Paula that I usually had hanging on my lamp- it was now laying in shreds on the floor. I sat back down on the bed.

He didn't seem to be thinking, or maybe he was drunk. He sat down next to me, smoke in hand, and turned to look at me. His green teeth showed as he smirked, waiting for me to say something. I took his bait.

"Well?" I asked, glaring at him. He chuckled. I wanted to slap him. "Well what? I slept wiv your girl, now yer mad at me. Nothin' else to it." He took a long drag on the cigarette, holding in his breath before letting it out in a large puff. I coughed, the smoke invading my lungs quickly. "Sorry 'bout dat, fergot." He muttered, pointing it away from me. Tosser.

"Ah fink der's a li'tle more den dat." I snarled. He seemed almost taken aback by my bitter tone. The smile dropped from his face, and he seemed genuinely concerned for the first time since he'd come in. "Listen, Faceache, I'm sorry. I didn' mean to, it was a mistake…it jus' sorta… happened." He finished lamely, looking away from my hateful gaze. I sighed, something snapping inside. "Jus' go." I said, pointing at the door, not looking at him. I couldn't. Things would never be the same. "Ar'…ar' you serious?" He asked, chuckling weakly in disbelief. Me, the calm one. The one who was always smiling, always happy- I had been broken. He slapped me on the back. "Good one, D, y' almost go' me." He said, but it sounded almost strained. I motioned for the door again. "You're serious, aren' you?"

I snapped my gaze back to him, furious. "O' course Ah'm serious! You fink dis is some kinda game? Dis is all a joke to you, init? Yeh, lessleep wif Stuart's girlfriend, 'e won' mind! Ah do mind, Muhdoc! Ah do! You really 'urt me! Ah don' wanna talk to you righ' now, maybe no' eva again! Ah can' take it!" I felt tears begin to form again, and trickle down my cheeks. He seemed shocked. "D….I…" He started, but I interrupted him. "No, Ah don' wanna 'ear anymore excuses! Ah'm sick of it, jus' ge' out!"

The tears flowed heavier as my panting turned into sobs of fury and anguish. He sat there, staring in awe as the man who never cried, not once, broke down. I flinched away as he made to comfort me. He seemed hurt, but didn't leave. He just let me cry.

When I had calmed down a bit, he made to console me again, and I didn't resist. My body was aching, worn down and exhausted. He pulled me into his grip, slowly patting me on the back. "There there, Stu. There there." He whispered, as I shook like a leaf in his warm grasp. I could hear his heart beat, fast and strong, and it helped to calm me. "Listen, Stuart. I'm sorry. I didn' mean anyfing by it…I jus'…" He trailed off again, rocking me back and forth, back and forth. He took a deep breath, as if to work up his courage. "I jus'…wanted to be closer to you."

The words shook me, and I stopped the cradling motion. "Whatd'you mean?" I asked, my voice still unsteady. He paused, taking a deep breath. "Faceache…I've always liked you a lot." He stated simply, and I frowned. "Yeh, well, we were bes' mates, yeh?" I said, confused by his confession. It seemed like there was something more in what he'd said, something deeper. He bit his tongue, thinking hard about something. I could practically see the gears whirring around in his brain. He leaned closer, and looked me in the eyes. I probably looked pathetic, a grown man crying in another man's lap. It didn't seem to matter to him. He smiled. "Stuart Pot…I love you." He said, and kissed me.

I snapped back, scared. "Deh hell wassat for?" I asked, indignant. How dare he? "I know…A little sudden, but…" He smiled, shedding his shell for that one moment. In that instant, I could see through him to who he really was. He was broken, and he was afraid. The man I'd always looked up to, the one who never seemed to falter in his egotistical charade, was just as scared as I was.

He held me for a long time after that, in silence. Neither of us felt the need to talk. We each knew how the other felt. Lost. Alone. Afraid. I was the first to break the silence. "Muhdoc?" I whispered, looking up at the man who'd single-handedly thrown me into hell and brought me out again, clothes ablaze. He looked lovingly back at me. "Yeh?" "…Ah love you too."

END