As per usual, I did not get a single fucking wink of sleep. I had, however, tidied up my entire apartment because I wasn't able to sit still. I'm glad whatever-her-name-is didn't end up coming into my place last night because it was a fucking mess. The majority of the evening I had spent in a Tanqueray induced haze trying to numb my brain.  Although, I allowed myself to occasionally drift off into the prospective thoughts of what could have been.  I never let my mind linger there for too long though.

Currently, I'm sitting on my couch starring at the wall in front of me. My fog wore off about an hour ago and I am no longer numb to the world. I take a sip of water and nearly choke when I hear a knock at my door. I already know who it is without even having to guess.

Fuck, here we go. 

I stand up, feeling partially nauseous as I trudge my way over to the door. I'm not ready for this. I don't want to do this. Even though those are the thoughts in my mind I open up the door anyway. Monica is standing there, just like I'd expected, looking tired and rough around the edges.

I don't say a fucking thing as I look down at her. Not a word comes out because I don't even know where I'd even begin. Was it mine? If so, why the fuck didn't you tell me? How fucking long did you know about it? Yeah, it's probably better that I just keep my volatile mouth closed for the time being.

"Um, hey." She gives me an uneasy look before continuing. "I just want to say thanks for your help last night. I uh, don't really remember much of it." She begins fiddling with the hem of her shirt, looking down at the floor as she does so. "I just uh, I'm sorry."

I study her exhausted looking form for a moment before asking, "sorry for what?"

She looks up at me with uneasy brown eyes before answering. "You know, for ruining your night with your friend." Her voice lingers on the last word in the strangest of ways, one I'm not going to even pretend to understand. 

I hold up a hand and wave that notion off. "You didn't ruin anything, Monica. Honestly, you probably saved me from making a fucking horrible decision." What? Since when is getting laid a horrible decision? Probably because I haven't really wanted to be with anyone since Monica.

My brain is fucked to the nth degree and it's been fucked by the woman standing in front of me. Last night was a last ditch effort to try and get my god damn libido going again. The truth is, since being with Monica, I hadn't wanted to fuck anyone else, be with anyone else. Four entire weeks and no satisfaction, absolutely fucking nothing.

"Oh." She sounds just as surprised as I was by the words I'd said. "Still, I'm sorry you had to drag me into my apartment. I don't even remember how I got in my bed or falling asleep."

"That's because you didn't fall asleep, Mon. You blacked the fuck out and almost fell in the doorway. I picked you up and put you to bed." 

"Jesus." She looks off to somewhere else, somewhere other than me. I'm looking over her, trying to figure out what's going on in that beautiful skull of hers. Why isn't she bringing it up? "Anyway, like I said, thanks." She begins to turn around to go back into her apartment but I grab her arm first.

Not so fast, sweetheart. "I think we've got a bit more to talk about, Monica." She doesn't turn to look at me and she doesn't say anything. Fuck, I'm going to have to be the one. I blow out a long breath before saying, "I saw the pill bottles, Monica."

She shrugs, "I have no idea what you're talking about." She's a terrible fucking liar.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is." Her voice is laced with irritation. It sounds like she wants to talk about this just as much as I do. "Seriously Sean, I don't know what you're talking about." She still won't look at me, she's just been talking at the shitty, carpeted hallway floor.

"The pills." I say in the most unemotional voice I can conjure.

No response.

"You know the ones that were on your night stand, Monica? The ones that are most likely now on your coffee table." She shrugs, still avoiding it. "Come on Mon, I know what they're for." Well, I do now, thanks to Google.   

She stands stock-still momentarily before finally giving me a response. "Oh. Well, it's nothing you have to worry about. It's taken care of and it wasn't yours." But her voice cracks on that last word making me think that particular statement is a false one. 

If I know anything at all about Monica it's that she is most definitely not the promiscuous type. She's not like me that way. She especially isn't the type to go around having unprotected sex, which actually is like me. I don't have unprotected sex with anyone. The only person I have had unprotected sex with is Monica and, ironically, I'm someone she definitely needs protection from.

This situation is a fucking mess.

"Look at me and tell me that again, Mon." For some reason I need the conformation. I just need to know and I don't know why. 

"I said it wasn't yours, Sean."  She grits out through clenched teeth but she still hasn't looked at me. Why won't she fucking look at me?

"For fuck's sake, Monica. Look at me." I tug on her upper arm slightly, just enough for her to turn towards me. Her gaze is still holding the floor, I can tell she really doesn't want to look at me. I see tears leaking down her face as her body begins to tremble slightly. Fuck. "Please just look at me, Monica. Please, just tell me..." My tone was softer this time.

I reach out to lift up her chin and she complies. Once her eyes find mine I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the known universe. Her amber orbs are glazed over, filled with shame and guilt. I've never loathed myself as much as I do right now because they begin to slowly leak tears and when they search mine for more than a fraction of a second, she starts to breakdown. There's no doubt in my mind that the previous statement she'd made was false now.  

"Jesus Christ, Monica." I pull her into my arms and into my apartment as she begins to sob uncontrollably. "Fuck, why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you call me?  Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm ssss..."

"No, don't you say those words Monica. You've got nothing to be sorry about. It's your body, it's your choice. I just, I could've been here, there..." At least I would've tried to be, but I'd probably be fucking worthless in any type of emotional situation.

As if the demons scratching wildly in the back of my mind at the moment aren't a reminder enough of just how fucked up I am. Just there to remind me of just what a shit father I would've been if, if... I'm not going there. I can't go there.

She begins to try and pull away from me but I hold her against me. I don't know what's keeping the demons at bay, but they're not entirely consuming me in this moment. I let her cry into my chest like that for a while, until she can somewhat control her breathing. I don't say anything to her, I just hold her.

"Sean, it's okay." She mumbles brokenly into my chest. "I know you don't like being touched like this. It's fine. I'll be fine." You keep telling yourself things like that sweetheart and you're going to start sounding like me.

Monica puts her hands on my chest, trying to stabilize herself and as she does I slowly begin to let her go. I don't want to let her go, I want to fix it, fix her but I know I can't. I've never felt so fucking terrible in my life for making a woman cry.

It was one thing for me to try and push Monica away so that I no longer could do any damage to her, anymore damage. One thing to try and get her out of my shit-show of a fucked-up life before I could ruin her. But now, to think that I had gone on a fucking bender while she was here, picking up the fragments of what I had left behind inside of her, shatters me. This is the exact type of thing I was trying to prevent from happening. 

This type of fucked-up damage is the very last thing I ever wanted for her. It's the fucking reason I'd gone and got bent in the first place. I was trying to separate myself from her, from whatever connection we have, because I knew the minute anyone started to care about me I would fuck them up. I would scar a piece of them because all I am is broken and anything that touches me gets wounded. Caring about me is the equivalent of trying to pick up shards of glass from the floor, every time you pick up a piece you get nicked and bleed.   

"I'm sorry I left you like that, Monica. I'm so fucking sorry." She just stares at my broad chest completely unresponsive. "I said I'm sorry. Seriously, Monica." I cup both sides of her face and try to get her eyes to meet my emerald ones but she won't. "I know I'm a worthless, useless, broken piece-of-shit and that the words I'm saying mean little to nothing but trust me that I mean them. When it comes to you, Monica, I mean them. I never wanted to hurt you. Truly, never. I fucking... I just... I don't..."  I don't know what to fucking say to get her to understand.

She reaches up to my face and wipes a wetness away from my cheek that I hadn't even realized had formed there. Great, here I go acting like a bitch again. "You don't what?" She asks, looking directly up at me.

I choke up for a moment not knowing exactly what I'm trying to convey. I don't know if I can make her understand me properly, but ultimately I mutter, "I don't know what to feel about you and me. I don't know how to feel. Any time I ever feel anything it always ends up turning into something bad." Something dark and twisted.

She reaches up and touches the side of my face, "you do know how to feel, Sean. I know you know how to because you showed me the night before you left. Even though it brought up a lot of bad stuff for you, you still showed me. You told me things and I know that had to be painful and emotionally challenging for you. Sean, I don't think you're worthless, there's nothing about you, to me, that isn't worth the effort. I didn't tell you about, uh," she pauses trying to find the right word, "about everything because I know you're not ready for something like that. Honestly, neither am I. You've already been through so much and I didn't want you to have to deal with that too."

"Monica, I would go through all of my pain, all over again, if it meant that I couldn't hurt you any more than I already have. You shouldn't care about someone like me."

"It's a little late for that, Sean. I care about you, a lot, probably more than I should." She whispers the last part up at me.      

I blink back the moisture from my eyes as I look down at the small woman whose face I hold in my hands. She's the most beautiful thing in my universe and she cares, cares about me. Now I can feel the wetness streaming down my cheeks as all sorts of suppressed emotion begins to well up inside of me. My dead heart palpitates in my chest and I wonder what I have ever done to deserve someone as good as her but the truth of the matter is, I don't. I will never deserve an individual as perfect for me as her.

"I fucking missed you so much, Monica."  I choke on the words and through my tears.  "You have no idea how much... how much I..." a sob escapes me involuntarily.

Her now tear-filled eyes hold mine, "I've missed you too, Sean."

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A/N:

I want to remind everyone that this is a work of fiction. These are fictional characters and this is how they dealt with this particular situation due to both of their own past experiences. We don't all live the same life nor do we all have the same belief systems. Therefore, we do not all make the same choices.

Thank you for reading!