Andy woke up alone in Drew's bed, pale sunlight pouring into through the window and the air filled with the smell of bacon and coffee. It took him a moment to remember the night before, but when he did, he'd smiled up at the ceiling, running his fingertips over his lips.

He'd given Drew a blowjob last night. And he'd really liked doing it.

And, most of all, spending the night wrapped up in Drew's arms had been… perfect.

That night, Drew had fallen asleep almost immediately, his breath going shallow and rhythmic. Andy, however, had stayed awake for a long time, full to the brim with happiness, feeling like he might vibrate off the surface of the planet from the sheer force of his feelings for Drew.

You're fucking perfect, Drew had said.

That wasn't something you said to a casual hookup, Andy thought. That was something you said to a person you cared about. A person you loved.

Drew felt the same way he did. Andy was sure of it.

This thought propelled Andy up and out of bed. He was barely even aware of how tired he was from getting so little sleep as he made his way down the stairs, which protested loudly if he wasn't careful. Though there were a few more days left in their Thanksgiving break, they'd been planning on heading back that day to spend the rest of it on campus, and Andy figured Drew must already be up and ready to go.

Drew's father was in the kitchen, reading the paper.

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Riordan," Andy said.

"Mornin'," he said, barely looking up from his newspaper. He jerked his head towards the counter. "For you."

Andy glanced over to see a plate covered with a cloth, which he pulled back to reveal a stack of perfectly cooked bacon, the morning sunlight illuminating the steam that wafted up from them.

"Oh, nice," Andy said, grabbing a few slices, not bothering with a plate. "Thanks."

"Sure thing," Drew's father said.

"Um, do you know where Drew is?" Andy asked.

Drew's father jerked his head towards the backyard, and Andy repressed a laugh as he went outside. Drew's dad made Drew, quiet and reserved, look like a chatterbox.

A thick layer of frost had turned the yard soft and silvered, and Andy could see his breath. Despite the chill, Andy was warmed from the inside out. He wasn't even sure what he'd say to Drew, only that he had to say something. The fear, the anxiety he'd had just two days ago had vanished. He could barely even remember what he'd been so concerned about.

Drew wanted him. He wanted Drew. It was simple. Easy. Right.

Andy couldn't see Drew, but he heard a loud, rhythmic noise echoing through the yard. When he followed the sound, it led him around the side of the little shed out back where Drew was actually chopping wood like some kind of mountain man.

Drew's back was to Andy, and for a moment, Andy just watched him, smiling so wide his face hurt. Drew swung the… axe? Hatchet thing? with practiced ease, and he moved with a fluid kind of grace as he split one log, stacked the wood, and reached for the next, his muscles rippling under the long-sleeved shirt he wore.

"What is this, Little House on the Prairie?" Andy asked with as he came into Drew's field of vision—he didn't exactly want to startle his friend when he was wielding an axe.

Drew's head snapped up and immediately Andy's stomach dropped. Something was clearly very, very wrong—Drew's face was deathly pale, his brow knitted, and there was a panicked glint in his eye. It was the closest Andy had ever seen Drew to crying.

"What's wrong?" Andy asked, coming closer. Drew was staring at him like Andy had just arrived from another planet, and when Andy reached out to put his hand on Drew's arm, Drew flinched and jerked away like he'd been burned.

"Drew—"

"My dad saw," Drew said, his words coming out in a harsh staccato.

"What?" Andy said, still deeply confused. For a brief moment, Andy thought Drew was referring to when Andy had been playing with the kids on the lawn the day before and had thought it was immature.

"My dad saw. Us. In bed. This morning," Drew said. His jaw was clenched so tight he could barely get the words out.

"Wait," Andy said, the air suddenly gone from his lungs. "What?"

Drew inhaled deeply, and for a moment, he looked like a complete stranger: hard, angry, scared.

"This morning, I woke up and the door was wide open," Drew said slowly. "I heard my dad on the stairs. He must have been coming up to let me know breakfast was ready."

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, I’m sure, Andy," Drew said, spitting out the words, his eyes flashing. "We were fucking spooning in a twin bed with the door wide open. It wasn't exactly discreet."

Andy found himself opening and closing his mouth, but for once he couldn’t think of anything to say.

"I went downstairs and—believe me," Drew said. "He knew."

Andy scanned over the interaction he'd had with Drew's father just a few minutes ago. Drew's dad had seemed gruff, yes, but not angry—though, Andy realized, Drew probably was a lot more adept at interpreting his own father's moods.

"Is—is he upset?" Andy asked.

"I don't fucking know," Drew snapped. Andy flinched, and Drew glanced down, seeming to only just realize he was still gripping the axe. He set it aside and ran his hand through his hair. "I think he's just… pretending he didn't see anything."

"I'm—I'm sorry," Andy said softly. He wanted to wrap his arms around Drew, pull him close and hold him, tell him everything would be okay. Even if it wouldn't. Because no matter what happened with Drew's father, Drew still had Andy.

But then—

"I can't do this anymore," Drew said. The words hit Andy like a punch to the gut. Drew was looking past Andy, out at the dead and dark forest, his face hard.

"Drew—" Andy said, the name coming out broken and twisted. Drew's eyes snapped to meet his, but all their warmth and affection was gone.

"Andy, what you want—it—it isn't possible for me. I can't do it, okay?" Drew said. Andy faltered, taking a step backwards. The chill of the morning seemed to hit him all at once, and he started shivering.

"But—"

"But fucking what, Andy?" Drew snapped. "Do you not see that this is literally my biggest fucking nightmare coming true right now? My dad saw, and now he knows. Don't you get it?"

Andy wanted desperately to fling his arms around Drew and pull him close to comfort him, but the darkness in Drew's expression kept him from it.

"We can—" Andy stammered. He had no idea what they could possibly do to fix this—he only knew he wanted to protect Drew.

"There's no we," Drew said, his voice ragged and deeply exhausted. "And there never was."

Andy swallowed hard. He felt sick to his stomach, and the whole world seemed to take on a strange tint, as if nothing were quite as real as it had been a moment before.

"Look," Drew said as he dragged his hand over his face. "I never meant for it to… be like this. I… I made a mistake, okay? I shouldn't have let it get this far."

"What do you mean, get this far?" Andy asked, narrowing his eyes.

"All of this," Drew said, gesturing angrily between the two of them. "This—this was why I was waiting—if you hadn't come in, then—"

"Hang on a second," Andy said. "Are you blaming me for this?"

Drew opened his mouth, a dozen emotions flitting across his face in a single instant.

"No—"

"Because it sure sounds like you are," Andy said, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not," Drew snapped. "But maybe if you'd closed the goddamn door when you came in—"

"This isn't about the fucking door," Andy said.

"You're right," Drew said. "It's not. It's about the fact that I told you we had to be careful, and then you weren't, because you never fucking think before you do shit."

Andy froze. He had the distinct sensation of falling into ice water, his lungs contracting, his whole body stiff and immobile.

Drew clapped his hand over his mouth.

"I didn’t mean that—" he said.

"Yeah you did," Andy whispered. He felt little sparks of pain and realized he was clenching his fists so hard his nails were digging sharp crescents into his skin. "Though last night I don't recall you being too upset when I had your fucking dick in my mouth—"

Drew flinched.

"Andy—I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," Andy said, loudly enough that it startled a flock of crows from the nearest tree. They flew off, the sound of their wings beating harsh and almost violent. "Whatever. Go ahead and tell yourself this was my fault just because I left a fucking door open—which you could have shut, too, by the way—"

"I'm not blaming you," Drew cut in, his brow furrowed. All the anger was gone from his expression, replaced with distress.

"You just fucking did," Andy snapped.

"Will you let me fucking finish?" Drew said, his eyes flashing. "I'm saying it's my fault for letting it get complicated. I thought we could—I thought I could—" He paused, sucking in a deep inhale. "We want two different things."

And there it was, the core of the matter, pulled out into the pale morning sun, all ugly and matted and poisonous.

Andy wanted Drew.

But he'd been wrong about Drew wanting Andy.

Andy felt a strange numbness that he almost mistook for relief. His secret was out—Drew knew how he felt and had made it very clear that it wasn't reciprocated.

So, now, it was over.

"Great," Andy said, forcing a smile that was more of a snarl. "Well, I'm happy we had this little adventure. And I'm even happier it's finally fucking over."

Drew's jaw dropped, and Andy barely had time to process the look of anguish on Drew's face before he turned around and stomped back into the house. He managed to pull himself together before he went inside, nodding briefly at Drew's father, who was still reading at the kitchen table.

He was just barely able to stop himself from running up the stairs, and as soon as the guest room door was shut behind him, Andy threw himself down on the bed and pulled the comforter up over his head.

His breath came in quick, short gasps, and the edges of his vision had gone dim. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to run, to leave, to get the fuck away from whatever had just happened, but at the same time, he felt paralyzed, as if a great weight were pinning him down to the bed.

Andy inhaled as deeply as he could, trying to get air, but it turned into a dry sob—a harsh, horrific noise that ripped through the quiet of the house.

Whatever small, secret, lovely thing he and Drew shared was gone. Andy had ruined it.

And the worst part—Andy had lied, had told Drew it had never existed at all.