I honestly have no idea what I was thinking at that moment. Everything, maybe. Whatever it was it was confusing and it was giving me a headache. Plus I was starting to get a little irritated at that fluttering feeling in my stomach. Roy still had an effect on me, years after we parted ways, and I didn't really like it. It chafed at something in me, the fact that Roy had that kind of control over me.

I was pulled from my thoughts by an approaching thunderstorm of someone's energy.

"What was he doing here?"

I looked up and saw Russel standing there with clenched fists and a deep frown. His energy positively crackled with anger. I knew that Russel disliked Roy on my behalf, but I had no idea that he hated him that much.

I started imagining what would happen when I told him that I gave Roy our number. The scenario didn't exactly end well.

"Russel," I said, trying desperately to diffuse the situation, "he just happened to pass by-"

"Just happened to find you in this huge city?"

I glared. "Russel, stop it."

"What?"

"Stop it. He probably saw the same flyer we did. Half the city is here to see the artist fair."

"Yeah, I guess..." he mumbled as he flopped down into his chair. I got the feeling that he still wasn't entirely convinced. I was starting to feel less that hopeful about how this day would end.

"Look," I explained, trying to salvage something, "he saw me and he came over. We talked for a couple minutes and then he went on his way. That's it."

Something flashed in Russel's eyes when he leaned forward and asked, "How can you be so forgiving after he-"

Panic grabbed me by the throat and I grabbed him by the arm. "Not. Here."

He didn't say anything. There was this look on his face that I couldn't place for a second. Then I realized that it was pain. I was gripping him with my right hand and I was squeezing far too hard. I let go and started to apologize but Russel cut me off.

"Fine," he grumbled as he crossed his arms and tried to discretely rub at the new bruise, "we'll talk about it at home."

Oh, that's something I sure look forward to, I thought miserably. We were having such a good time too...

"We're still going to enjoy ourselves while we're out here, right?" I immediately regretted asking, not for the question but for the pleading tone of denial coloring my voice.

"... Right," he agreed at last.

That didn't work out too well. Russel was still sulky and that in turn pissed me off to no end. I started resenting how he seemed to think I was so fragile that I needed such overprotection. How he acted like I couldn't handle myself. It all built up until the dislike in Russel's energy spiked when we came to an artist who painted horses.

I didn't even bother saying anything. I just turned around and started for the car. A couple minutes later he came jogging up beside me.

"Where are you going?"

I still had the presence of mind not to get into it while we were still in public. I kept walking and muttered, "To the car," through gritted teeth.

"Is something wrong?'

Usually the concern in his voice would have touched me, but as it was it just tossed kerosene on the fire. Something snapped. I stopped dead and whirled on him.

"I am sick of your childish sulking."

"What-"

"I have put up with your irrational dislike of Roy for-"

"Irrational?" Oh, and then his anger was back and then some.

"Yes, Russel, irrational. A little dislike is rational. This much isn't. You're practically vibrating with rage!"

"Maybe I'm just feeling the anger for both of us since you don't seem to care what he did to-"

"Stop!" I suddenly remembered where we were. "Just get in the car."

"Ed..."

"Get. In. The. Car."

We drove home in stony silence as the tension grew and grew. Both of us managed to keep it buried until I slammed the front door behind me.

Russel advanced on me. "Okay, Edward, are we allowed to talk now?"

The patronizing tone of voice and the way he used my full first name grated at me. Keeping a handle on my emotions was becoming difficult.

"Excuse me for wanting to keep this private. Even if my relationship with Roy wasn't taboo I wouldn't want everyone in the café knowing about it!"

Russel's anger faltered. "I.... okay. I'm sorry, you're right about that. But that still doesn't change the problem here."

"Oh? And what is the problem here?"

The fire in his eyes raged back. "I shouldn't have to explain it! Dammit, Ed, I've been helping you pick up the pieces for almost three years now!"

I felt like banging my head against the wall. Actually I felt like banging his head against the wall.

"You're giving Roy way too much credit. I was screwed up before I met him, I was screwed up before we started... whatever you even call it. Him leaving me might have been the final straw that lead to my breakdown but it's still nothing compared to the rest of my damage."

"And that justifies him abandoning you?"

Yelling at Russel always brought out that teenage immaturity in me, and this time teenage insecurity came along for the ride.

"You can stop making it sound like I'm some weak damsel in distress who fell apart because her boyfriend left her, okay?"

"I didn't-"

I could see that he genuinely didn't mean to imply that, but I was past the point of caring.

"Yes, you did, Russel. Ever since I told you about Roy you've acted like you have to protect me from him. You act like I'm still in the worst of it. I have gotten over him, you know."

He was starting to look less angry and more exasperated. "Ed, I saw the two of you talking. I saw him take your hand. And I saw the way you were looking at him when he did it."

He stepped forward and I stepped back, and all of a sudden I was against the wall and he was standing far, far too close. The worst part is that he was right; I still had butterflies in my stomach from being so close to Roy. Then those butterflies got into a fight with the ones caused by being able to taste Russel's breath and I started to feel physically ill.

"Look," I tried to rationalize, "It's just that he was my first, okay? Even though it was all messed up he was still my first. Don't you feel something, every once in a while, when you think about your first girlfriend?"

"I guess?"

He was still standing so close and it was getting really distracting. I slipped to the side to escape his breath on my face and then sank down on the couch. After a minute he joined me, thankfully sitting on the other side. I don't think I could have survived any physical contact from him right then.

"Ed..." he started, obviously trying very hard to choose the right words, "I just don't see how you can forgive him. I mean... it looked like you were going to kiss him. I might remember the times with Heather fondly every once in a while but I would never think of kissing her after she dumped me for another guy."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You have the worst taste in women."

He chuckled half heartedly. I sobered.

"Russel... it's different."

"Why? Seems cut and dry to me."

I was too drained to get angry at his tone. I barely managed irritated.

"That's because you're an idiot and you're letting it get in the way of logic."

"What's that supposed to mean."

"It means that I easily take first in the 'who's the most messed up' contest, but Roy's definitely in the top five. It's not as though he was the stable rock in our relationship. He was slipping as much as I was, and now the guilt over leaving me is making it ten times worse."

"Guilt?" He sounded disbelieving. "What guilt?"

"You didn't see him up close. He looked terrible, and he was disproportionately relieved that I was friends with you. He's as messed up as I was when the two of us got back in touch. Maybe even more. Look, I know him and I know he ran because he was scared at the idea of real intimacy with me. With anyone. And I can understand that."

Russel took a minute for that to soak in. At last he seemed to grudgingly accept the concept.

"I guess..." he mumbled, "I just don't understand why he would leave you."

"Have you not been listening?"

"No, I mean I have, it's just.... why would he let you go? What would scare him so much that he would throw away the best thing that ever happened to him?"

I thought he was joking. I almost laughed. But then he looked at me and it was very clear that he wasn't. He really thought that I was the best thing to ever happen to Roy. He really thought I was worth holding on to.

I felt my face get hot at this realization. My heart ached at the thought of being the best thing to ever happen to Russel.

I fought to beat down those dangerous feelings and to answer his question.

"The thing is..." I wondered if I should bother putting it delicately or just come out with it. "You're... kind of missing something big here."

"What?"

".... Fifteen years."

I laughed at the absurdity of it all. That the mostly likely driving force behind Roy leaving was something as relatively insignificant as time.

I went on. "He met me when I was eleven, you know. He... he watched me grow up. And even though he never did anything when he was still my commanding officer, never even thought of it, I mean, us getting together was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me... I know him. I know he's wondered if he somehow abused his rank without knowing, wondered if I felt like I had to because of it. Who knows? Maybe if he actually talked to me about it I could have knocked some sense into him and we might still be together."

Russel looked like he was confused at his own thoughts. I certainly had no idea what to do with mine. We sat in awkward silence for a long, long time. He's the one who broke it with a quietly whispered question.

"Did he ask you out?"

".... Yeah. But he didn't plan to. It was obvious that it just kind of came out."

"And... what did you say?"

"Hm. Nothing." Russel looked up with a raised brow. "He answered his own question. Said I'd be crazy to go back to him. Heh... I think he hats himself more that you hate him."

Russel didn't know how to take that last statement. Finally he got his bearings back.

"What would you have said?"

"... I honestly don't know. It caught me off guard. Ask me tomorrow and I might have it figured out."

Another unbearably long pause. "You gave him a piece of paper."

"Our phone number. He needs help, Russel. The kind of help you gave me."

He seemed to take it as well as possible. Meaning that he frowned but there wasn't any more yelling.

"And after?"

I turned to him, confused.

"After he's back on his feet, if he asks you again?"

A chance with someone who already knows all about my past and still doesn't hate me? Someone who's actually attracted to men?

".... I might."

Russel suddenly stood. "I guess we should get that painting on the wall, right?"

I felt numb. "Yeah."

"I'll go get it. You get the hammer."

"Okay. Sounds like a plan."