"Jamie—Master Jamie, I mean," he cleared his throat, a bit nervous when Jamie did not even move a muscle. Instead, it was Bridgette that glanced upwards, turning around on the couch and eyeing Joe who smiled uneasily, facing elsewhere. She did not say anything, rather simply observed him and glanced towards Jamie who reached for the remote and changed the TV channel.

They were watching their favourite series when Joe had returned from his talk with Connor and Jamie was not in the mood to have a conversation about what had just happened. Even worse, the fact that Connor had stepped foot inside his house, irritated him, and he gritted his teeth, his thumb slamming on the remote button.

"I was wondering if we could talk?"

"I thought you were leaving." His tone was harsh, a winter cold that caused Joe's skin to fill with goosebumps. He could had practically feel the cool breeze enveloppe him—but he was not done trying.

Joe sighed, "I thought so too..."

"So what do we have to talk about?" He was dismissive, skipping through multiple channels and no longer waiting to see which show was playing. He was much too angry to realize he had gone through all the channels and was passing through the same ones again.

Joe stepped forward, swallowing hard before he stated, "I'm not leaving."

"No." Jamie stormed to his feet, throwing the remote onto the couch. "No, no, no, no...." He repeated, walking towards Joe who flinched. "You are leaving. This is your suitcase, right? With all my stuff?" He didn't stop, walking past Joe and taking his suitcase simultaneously, making his way to the door. "You know, the stuff I was nice enough to give you."

Joe followed him. "Jamie—Master Jamie," he gulped, feeling a drop of sweat leak on the side of his face. "L-Let's talk about this, please." Even though he did want to converse, this raging Jamie was frightening to him.

Jamie threw his suitcase outside. "Yeah, why not?!" He faced Joe as he spat, "Let's talk about the fact that you let your ex-husband come into my house and belittle my struggles," he snapped, his fists clenching at each of his sides.

"That was not what he meant to do—"

"I was seven years old, Joe!" When he screamed that at the top of his lungs, practically screeching, before instantly falling into a long silence, Joe could physically feel all the pain Jamie had gone through. Joe could see Jamie watching the memories replayed as they replayed in his mind. "I ran away from the house because I was scared! I was seven and had just witnessed my parents—" He suddenly stopped himself, quickly shaking his head.

After a short pause, he lifted his hands in defeat and breathed, "Listen, this kind of energy you're bringing around is not good for me. I have dealt with all the horrors of depression after they died, I don't need to deal with it again because of you."

Joe kept quiet for an instant, noticing the tears that were subtly forming in Jamie's eyes. He had never seen such devastation in Jamie's regard, always having a bold and arrogant character that he almost forgot Jamie had emotions as well.

He stepped forward. "I didn't mean for you to have to de—"

"No, I'm not hearing any of this." He stepped towards Joe, reaching for his shoulder only for Joe to dodge his touch. "Follow your ex-husband out of here."

"What about..." Joe glanced towards Bridgette whose eyes were widened. "What about last night? I can't let last night go, not like this."

He had never seen such rage build behind Jamie's gaze, as if the tears were evaporating the moment they reached his cheek. Jamie, with gritted teeth, leaped towards Joe and gripped him by the collar, throwing him to the hallway. Joe stumbled on the suitcase, catching his balance and flinching when he heard the loud slam of Jamie's door.

Jamie had followed him outside, pointing behind him and growling, "In front of Bridgette? Really?"

Between heavy breaths, Joe argued, "She deserves to know."

"And I deserve to tell her—how entitled do you have to be Joe? Right after your ex-husband screamed at me about my life?" He leaned in towards Joe. "I didn't fucking tell Connor about us, did I?"

Joe kept messing up—everything he said was taken the wrong way, and rightfully so. He didn't want Jamie to hate him, he didn't want to leave this place—all he wanted was to go back to how things were before Connor came into the picture. He shrugged his shoulders, a shaky breath escaping his lips and glancing elsewhere in utter desperation. "I didn't mean for this to end, for us to be done."

"That's what you chose, Joe. So," he broadened his shoulders and said, "Either you leave or I'm using force."

When he heard that threat, he instantly raised his hands in front of him, furrowing his brows. "Jamie, this is crazy! Stop it, please! I don't want to fight you, we're friends!"

Jamie seemed to have exploded, veins forming on his neck and his arms violently widening as well as he shouted, "HE ACCUSED ME OF KILLING MY OWN MOM AND DAD!"

Joe instantly fell froze, noticing how heavy Jamie's breath was, how all his muscles had stiffened, how tears suddenly began leaking rapidly from his eyes, how his chest was no longer rising and descending as it should, and how he gulped with every intake. He noticed how his arms seemed to have lost hope, falling back to his sides before he rapidly wiped his eyes, glancing away from Joe for a moment.

Joe had never realized how much hurt he had caused him.

It was as if he was regaining his composure, mumbling a few words to himself before shaking his head and quietly whispering, "And you believed it. I thought we were friends too, Joe. You know what else?" He lifted his eyes and met his gaze for the last time. "Everybody calls me weird, all have their reasons which doesn't bother me. What bothers me though, Joey," his shoulders were quivering as he added breathlessly, "you were my only friend."