The game had gone horribly for him, mostly because every time he had seen York, a flash of something had happened, he wasnt quite sure what, and he found it hard to concentrate. Especially now that he had a clue of what was going on.

 

He didn't know why he even cared, hell; he had barely even given a thought to York before last night. And now, for some reason, he couldnt get the damned man out of his head.

 

Maybe it was wanting redemption, or just some strange sense of chivalry, but he wanted to help York, take him and hide him from the world, make whatever was hurting him go away and never come back. It was a weird feeling, one he definitely wasn't used to.

 

It was frightening, since hed never felt anything like this before. It was the last person on earth he ever expected to be protective of, he had never even considered York as anything but an annoying player on a rival team, nothing more. And now...

 

And now...

 

He wasnt sure what he thought.

 

That was when he saw him, leaning his head against the wall with his eyes screwed tightly shut, as if he was trying to shut out something. He felt his stomach drop at the sight, not quite sure of what he should do. Should he say something? Walk on and pretend he hadnt been there? Or maybe walk up to him and kiss him like there was no tomorrow...

 

Where had that thought come from?

 

"Go away, Shawn," he heard York mutter, but stayed still, debating on what to do. "Goddamnit Shawn, I said go-" he turned, and stopped short in the middle of his sentence. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

 

"I uh... just went for a walk." York's eyes narrowed, and Comrie glared back, refusing to back down.

 

"Yeah, well you can walk right on, nothing to fucking see." York turned to the wall, in a silent but obvious dismissal.

 

"Look," Comrie said, taking a few steps forward, "I think we need to talk."

 

"There's nothing to talk about," York told him flatly. "You were high, I was drunk, and we fucked around a bit, but stopped before anything happened. I wouldnt call that life-altering." Comrie, in a sudden flash of anger, turned him around and pulled his sleeves up before he could even struggle.

 

"These," he hissed, grabbing an arm with scars and cuts scattered over it, arent nothing. York snatched his arm away, cradling it close to his body, as if he was using it for a shield.

 

"Well they're none of your goddamned business, that's for sure."

 

"Bullshit, you made them my business the second you let me know about them, drunk or not." He took a step closer, and York tried to retreat, but his back collided with the wall. "And I dont think you were even drunk in the first place."

 

"Why do you even give a fuck anyways? It's not like youve ever bothered with me before, why would you now?"

 

"I dont know!" Comrie took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. They were easily loud enough to have someone wonder what the noise was, and he didnt want to be interrupted until hed gotten some answers. "Goddamnit York, I just dont..."

 

"Don't what? Look, I dont want your fucking pity." York turned to leave, but Comrie pushed him back against the wall, taking another step closer

 

"It's not pity!" He exclaimed.

 

"Then what is it?" York said with a sneer, leaning against the wall as if he was trying to crawl through. "Its not like you could fucking care about me, could you? That would be to goddamned much to ask for, wouldnt it?"

 

"What?" Comrie tried to make sense of what York had said, but it wasnt working. What would be too much to ask for?

 

"Never mind," York said in a voice that sounded like it just might shatter.

 

"No, not never mind, you're telling me what the fuck is going on!" Comrie felt the situation spiralling out of his control, and he wasnt sure that he liked it.

 

"You wouldnt understand," York said softly, meeting his eyes with a soft intensity. "You cant just wave a wand and fucking make it go away Comrie, its just always there, like a waterfall under a breaking bridge. I don't know why you suddenly give a fuck, but theres nothing you can do, so just drop it, alright?"

 

Comrie tilted his head, actually taking a good look at York for the first time. He had dark bags under his eyes and his skin was far too pale to be healthy. There was a small bit of moisture at the corner of his eye, and for some reason the sight of it made Comrie's gut wrench. He was breathing deeply and shaking, huddled against the wall like he was... afraid?

 

"No," Comrie said, resolutely.

 

"What do you mean?" York asked, voice not quite level.

 

"What I said, I'm not letting it drop."