A/N: An alternative ending to Chasing Amy, because I watched it for the first time in years last night and was reminded that I'm still holding a little bit of a candle for Holden/Banky.

Banky's never been able to pinpoint a moment. His epiphany, if that's what you want to call it, came years too late and by time he realized he was in love with Holden, he'd already been fully incased in denial for a good many years and he put effort into not dwelling on it, into trying to forget it with pussy and alcohol and weed. It never worked, not really, but Banky got very good at pretending it did.

He never thought this would happen. Holden is looking at Alyssa, not at him, but Banky can't tear his eyes away. Holden wants to sleep with him. Banky can't believe it, his mind stuttered to a stop with his lips burning from a kiss that was brief and chaste and without any kind of passion and yet without a doubt the best kiss Banky's ever had in his life.

Of course he's tempted. He's being offered everything he's wanted and craved and jerked off thinking about in some of his weaker moments on a golden fucking platter and he wants to say yes, wants to take what he can get.

But Banky's always been a bit of a shit, give him an inch and he'll demand a mile. He knows himself, knows that he's greedy and possessive. He can't stand to have Alyssa sitting on his couch, let alone sharing his bed. He feels sick to see her touch Holden, kiss Holden. He isn't capable of watching them fuck and he can't be a part of it.

What Holden is really offering is a reflection, a distorted image of what Banky wants and just close enough to make Banky want it anyway. Only Banky isn't stupid and there's a reason he's always denied what he felt, a reason he's never spoke up about it.

There's twenty years of friendship ridding on the line and Banky isn't willing to risk it. He wasn't willing to demand all or nothing from Holden because he couldn't, and still can't, deal with the idea of Holden saying no and walking away and leaving his life forever. Banky will cling to whatever part of Holden that he can latch onto.

Alyssa says no. She's in tears, all fucking dramatic, and leaving a red mark on Holden's cheek as she goes. Banky almost wants to applaud her for that; Holden deserves it for the fucked up mess he just dumped all over all of them. Holden stares at him in shock.

"She's right. I could never share you, Holden. And you're a fucking asshole."

Banky tries to go to his room, but Holden catches onto his arm. "I don't understand."

"You're fucking selfish, Holden." Banky snaps. "You want us both, you don't want to choose, you want to have your cake and eat it too or however the fuck you want to put it. You want it to be easy and perfect? Well, fuck you. Life isn't like that. Fuck you for asking that of me, after everything we've been through. Jesus fuck, man, you've known me since the third grade! What made you think I could, even for a second, be satisfied with one fucking pity fuck from you to tide me over for the rest of my life. I'm worth more than that, you fucking fuck!"

He screams the last word, jerking free, and slams the door behind him as he slips into his bedroom. He falls down onto his bed and curls up. His eyes burn, but he's not some fucking pussy that's going to cry over some dickhead that's not even fucking worth it.

He's not.

He wants to cling to anger because that's better than whatever pathetic version of heartbreak he'll feel when he lets it go, if a heart can break after it's already been diced into pieces and flayed.

His door doesn't lock and he's not really surprised that Holden comes in after a few moments. Banky keeps his face turned towards the wall, fingers clenched in his blanket, and doesn't say anything. His voice would only wobble, crack, and betray how close to tears he is.

Holden climbs into the bed behind him, arm wrapping around. Banky goes tense but Holden doesn't stop. His breath tickles the small hairs at the back of Banky's neck.

"I don't think of you like that," Holden whispers. "It would never be a pity fuck, Bank."

"It's not enough. You can't offer me this and not expect me to take it and demand more and more. I want everything, Holden."

"You can have everything."

Banky snorts. "Why, because Alyssa's gone and you finally realize you aren't getting her back this time. That you fucked it over good and you want to collect second best while you can?"

"Damnit, Banky. You aren't second best. That's the whole point. I couldn't figure out who was first and who was second best."

"It shouldn't have been a challenge." Banky whispers back and closes his eyes against the wave of pain that accompanies those words. It should never have been a problem. If Holden had really loved him, he would never have looked at Alyssa in the first place. It's why Banky has never had a girlfriend that lasted longer than a few weeks; he loves Holden too much for them to ever compare.

"I don't know what you want." Holden admits.

"I think Alyssa summed it up. I might love you, Holden, but I'm not your whore. I'm not going to be the one to spread my legs for you because you lost the person you want."

"It isn't like that."

Banky turns and lets Holden look him in the eyes, serious like he rarely is. "Then you're going to have to prove it because after that little display I don't believe you."

Holden stares at him and then nods. "Prove it. Okay, I can do that."

He leans forward, kisses Banky again. It's quick, chaste, just like before. Just like before, it feels searing and strangely permanent, like Banky will be able to feel those lips on his for the rest of his life.

"I can do that."