You two weren't talking like you used to, you two weren't the same as you used to be. But that was okay, people change and you've changed too, haven't you? And even though your paths had long since parted, your mind was always on him. And how could it not? If you weren't seeing his beaming face peeking at you from the magazines with his A-list celebrity smile, he was always on the news in his dark cloak and cowl, scowling at the world.

You swallowed dryly as your gaze dropped to the red roses, torn and vandalized by your front door with a letter dripping with hatred and disgust. The flowers, doomed to such a horrible fate, were tied with a tie that your last lover had left with you just one night ago. A scene from a jealous... who? That was the point. You didn't know from whom, and yet that person knew so much about you. And that man was in your apartment, how else would he have gotten the tie, right?

That and more were the reasons you were where you were. Bruce's house. On his couch by the burning fireplace with said man across the room.

“And may I ask,” he rubbed his face wearily, alarmed. “Why are you mentioning this now?” He didn't like what you were saying at all. What you were confiding in him. "Have you been to the police? Who else knows about this?"