Where Nerves End

looked up, hed leaned back and turned his gaze away, staring at the ground with unfocused eyes. Disbelief had etched itself unto the crevices between his eyebrows and the way his lips parted. If there was any man walking this planet who could understand why someone might not want to come out to even a close friend, it was Seth, but he was definitely stunned and quite possibly hurt. And why shouldnt he be? This wasnt something he should have heard from me, especially after Michael had specifically said he didnt want Seth to know.
Fuck…
“Im so sorry,” I said again.
Waving a hand, Seth shook his head. “Its not your fault. And Im not, I mean, Im not angry. Just a little blown away, I guess.” More to himself, he murmured, “I cant believe he never told me.”
“Christ,” I whispered. “Michaels going to be pissed.”
“Look, the cats already out of the bag,” Seth said. “I swear on my life I wont say a word to Michael about it. But, I mean, whats going on?” He leaned a little closer, tilting his head. “You guys have a thing going or something?”
“Kind of,” I said, shame twisting in my gut. “We started, then we stopped, then we…” I shook my head. “Fuck, I dont even know.”
Seth thumbed his chin. “Have you guys talked?”
“Repeatedly.”
He said nothing for a moment, then shook his head. “I dont know what to tell you. I cant imagine living together makes it any easier.”
“No,” I said. “Not at all.”
“Well,” he said, his tone quiet and with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, “good luck.”
“Thanks.”
His lack of advice did nothing for the guilt in my stomach. Seth could usually offer advice like no one else; for a single man, he was wise in the ways of love and lust. But not this time.
We shifted the subject to more comfortable topics, but Seth didnt relax. Whenever there was a pause, his expression turned distant, and whenever he laughed, there was a note of discomfort. I couldnt decide if he was angry, hurt, or just trying to absorb the information, and I didnt ask. Call me a coward, but I was afraid to hear how badly Id fucked this up on top of everything else. Especially with my gut wrapped up in guilty knots because I had completely betrayed Michaels confidence.
After Seth had finished his second beer, he had to get back to the shop to wrap up a few things before calling it a night. I paid for his drinks, we shook hands, and he left.
As he walked away, I put my elbow on the table and rested my forehead in my hand. A sick, guilty feeling twisted beneath my ribs. Yeah, this would simplify matters.
Michael, I really want to sleep with you again, and by the way? I just outed you to your best friend. My bad. So, got any condoms handy?
God. I couldnt believe Id done this. I didnt even know how to explain it to him without sounding like an inconsiderate jackass, especially since thats exactly what I felt like just then. Id seen an opportunity to talk to someone who might understand, to maybe get some advice and straighten out all this shit in my head, and completely blew Michaels trust in the process. Fuck my life.
How I was going to atone for that, I didnt know. What I did know was that for the sake of both his sanity and mine, something somewhere was going to have to give. I wouldnt give him an ultimatum, of course. If he wasnt comfortable with this, or he didnt want to pursue it, fine.
But I couldnt keep living with him now that wed been there, stopped that.

CHAPTER 17
    Fuck. Not tonight. Please, please, not tonight.
I stared at the ceiling in the darkness as I reached up to rub my shoulder. I had no idea what time it was, and the tightness in my neck dared me to turn my head to look at the clock. Probably one or two in the morning, since I doubted Id been asleep long.
Closing my eyes, I took slow, deep breaths and rubbed my shoulder gingerly. The pain was deep, like someone had shoved a knife behind my collarbone and down into my ribcage. Even breathing hurt. The tautness inching down my back, up my neck, and along my arm was painless for now, but it would catch up sooner or later.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck .
The empty shower called to me from the master bathroom. So did the pain pills downstairs in the drawer beside the refrigerator where I kept quick, simple food so I could take those pills in the dead of night. Every corner in the house beckoned, promising that euphoric relief that only sufferers of chronic pain could understand.
But if I moved, if I made a sound, there