Dichotomy.

I’ve been unpacking and compulsively cleaning since I got home this afternoon.

I don’t know why, really. Too much on my mind, I guess.

It gets worse, believe me.

See, around eight pm, my doorbell rings, presenting a tall, shaggy-haired re-addition to the cast of my life – who I’d planned on avoiding for the rest of it.

“Eric?” I ask, speechless with confusion. All I can think, is why me?

“Did you miss me?” he asks. I swallow with some difficultly. “Tom mentioned you were back in town.”

I’ll kill the bastard.

I don’t need a best friend, do I?

“What do you want?” I say flatly.

He laughs a little.

“Come on, we’re friends. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Fine,” I answer stiffly, crossing my arms by habit. He sighs, and I let him in, closing the door behind him.

“Look, I…I’m sorry, okay?” He says, dropping his confidence act, running a hand through his hair. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with the band.”

“Fine,” I say again, because I don’t know what else to say, and nothing he says can rewind anything.

“I’m sorry for everything, but…” he begins, taking a step closer. “Just because the band’s over doesn’t mean…we can’t be anything anymore. I…still think about you, T. Would you give me a chance?”

After the inner turmoil he’s put me through, after all the questioning myself, after the hell of what happened with the band, and I still say-

“Fine.” It’s like my mouth is stuck on repeat, and I just want to rewind.

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling hesitantly as if still unsure with himself. Rigby, who’d been asleep until now, chooses this moment to growl threateningly at Eric, but I ignore him for once.

I can’t help but nod and smile back. Old habits die ha– the truth is, they just don’t die.

“What now?” he asks. I stare back at him, but I’m thinking of Brendon. And her, whoever she is. And what they’re probably doing right now.

The truth is, after so much time of hating myself, I like that someone, somewhere likes me.

I wordlessly pull his face down to mine for a kiss, and he doesn’t pull away, and maybe he came over here expecting this, he knows me that well. I don’t hesitate to pull him into my bedroom, closing the door before Rigby can protest, leaving him barking and scratching outside the door like he knows what a huge mistake I’m making.

And I don’t even really want sex, not with him, at least that’s what my brain is telling my body – but it’s been so long, and I must be that Goddamn needy.

The truth is – I’m a fucking idiot.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I wake up thoroughly exhausted and with his limbs tangled with mine.

Rewind to the first time this happened.

I was stupid; albeit more naïve back then, too.

I slip away from his arms to get clean clothes for a shower to wake myself up.

The hot water pours down on my head, and I hate myself more than usual.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I’m so fucking stupid!

Am I really that pathetically lonely to let this happen again?

And most importantly: what the fuck was I thinking?

Why did I ever start thinking it would be a good idea to start sleeping with my lead singer all those months ago?

And if a relationship is what I wanted from him after all, if this is what I’d originally jeopardized my position in the band for, I should be happy right now.

Hell, I should be fucking ecstatic.

I get dressed and go to the kitchen to feed Rigby, all the while praying Eric will stay sleeping.

I realize that I’m pretty much out of food and decide to go grocery shopping.

That and I really don’t want to be here when Eric wakes up.

Instead, I leave him a falsely cheery note explaining where I went.

I’m gone for an hour, probably more, since I spend most of my time wandering the grocery aisles to clear my mind.

I take extra time deciding which cereal to buy, wheat or white bread, oranges or nectarines – everything.

It doesn’t help.

He’s watching tv shirtless on my couch when I get back.

“Some guy came by looking for you,” he says indifferently, when I’m done bringing the groceries inside. “Brandon, I think.”

“Brendon?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat in curiosity.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says, wrapping his arms around me from behind. A low growling comes from under my kitchen table.

“Rigby!” I scold, as he runs up to bark at Eric’s proximity and nip at his bare feet.

“You know, I always thought Rigby was a stupid name for that dog,” he comments, as I scoop Rigby up in my arms. And I’m too tired to even defend my dog to him.

“What did Brendon want?” I ask, still curious and trying to silence Rigby’s low growls.

“No idea,” he shrugs.

“He didn’t say?” I ask, inquiringly. He just shakes his head. Rigby begins to squirm in my arms so I put him down and he trots off down the hall, already bored with Eric.

“Come here,” Eric says, with what I used to think was a charming smile. I cave in, tiredly joining him on the couch and letting him put an arm around me.

Please – rewind to when I wasn’t this fucking desperate.