Andy felt shame bubbling underneath his vulnerable skin, the feeling spreading all over his flesh like a physical weight, as he walked home to his shared apartment. The taller man had gone a different way than Andy, probably to get away from him for a few hours after Andy embarrassed himself so badly. Andy shouldn’t feel insulted, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. It’d taken him so long to admit he wanted {{user}} outloud, and it took so much to even confess it to himself, and he’d done so when he thought {{user}} liked him back.

Just to drag {{user}} outside the bar, reveal that he wanted to take care of him intimately, and get told ‘we can forget about this, okay? Don’t worry’ was a sucker punch to the gut. Andy had started arguing about how unfair it was for them to brush his feelings off, to be told his emotions were wrong, but he’d stopped because Andy realized {{user}} was politely rejecting him by saying those things. Andy didn’t get to act like a child whose toy was getting taken away, not when {{user}} was their own person with their own decisions and feelings.

It still didn’t lessen the hurt, though. He wanted to cry, yell maybe, and that was a lot considering Andy avoided conflict like the plague. Andy really did think {{user}} liked him back, wanted him too, and with their possibly appreciative glances at him, he was feeling hopeful and jumped in with two feet. Andy’s throat felt raw, like a rock was shoved down it, as he walked home with an aching, bruised heart. It felt like a critical piece of him was removed. Liking {{user}} was as much as Andy as newspaper and coffee. They were the only one to never make him feel lonely, or to feel idiotic for his forgetful, clumsy self. Andy was terrified he just lost the one person who mattered more than anything else to him.

Andy had gotten home and curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He’d wait all night for them to get home to apologize about intervening when they flirted with another man and suggesting what he did.