It was the right words, the right time, and the right person.

I wanted to believe it, but… “How can I believe you?” I cried out, hoarse. “I can’t believe anything anymore. Corrigan, you, who else? I don’t know where to turn anymore.”

“You can believe me. I’m telling you the truth. God—would I…? I already have you, why would I need to—that’s sick and wrong. I love you, Sheldon.”

“Yeah.” An ugly laugh left me. “I’m sure he thinks so too.”

“Sheldon,” Bryce breathed out. “Listen to me—go upstairs, to the office, and get the gun. I put it underneath the couch, remember? Go and get it and bring it down. You can point it at me, but please—let me in. Let me talk to you, not through this door.”

I turned, but stopped before my feet could move.

I stood there and waited. For what—I couldn’t say. It was a weird sensation. How do you turn your back on someone to whom you’ve professed your love?

“Look—,” Bryce cried out. “If you’re not going to grab it, just listen to me. Please.”

I waited.

“He…he wants you alone, Sheldon. He wants you to be vulnerable. This whole time—it’s been me or Corrigan. We’ve been there, at your side, the entire time. Through everything, through all the crap—my mother, your mother, Denton Steele. Even—even the cops thinking that Corrigan is this dick. This whole time—I’m your best friend, Sheldon. I wouldn’t—I couldn’t do this!”

“I don’t know anything anymore,” I cried out, shrill. I wanted to crumble. I felt it inside.

“I know! That’s what he wants!” His fist pounded the door, helpless. “Seven years, Sheldon. We’ve been together for seven years. You’ve been my best friend for that long, before all the drama and everything that happened in school.”

The popularity curse.

Bryce added, “Sheldon…I know you inside and out. Of anyone in this world, I know you the best. I messed up. I’m sorry. I didn’t…I was just afraid. I was scared that if I told you that I’d gone to see Officer Patterson that you’d be mad and…well—it wouldn’t have been as bad as this. I’m sure, but still this sucks pretty bad.”

“Bryce…,” I said weakly.

“Sheldon…please…”

I couldn’t. I still couldn’t.

“Please—of all—god—talk about emotional, huh?” His laugh was weak, but genuine. “Remember when we had angry sex and you told me that you loved me? I remember that. Sheldon, you just run all the time. You’ve got such a heart, but you cover it with poison sometimes. People have to be immune to poison to be your friend, but— thank god—only Corrigan and I are stupid enough to come back for seconds.”

Of endearing speeches, his ranked the lowest.

“You’re not helping,” I said flatly, but I stood a little straighter, a little firmer.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry, but it’s just…you’re such a bitch, like, 90% of the time.”

“That’s supposed to be better?” I cried out.

“Well…I’m telling you the truth. I mean, that’s my job, isn’t it? To tell you the truth even when you think I’m a psycho madman? Right? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not any better!”

He cried out, aggravated, “What do you want me to say? I’m pouring out my heart here because you think I’m some killer, but I’m just trying to tell the truth. This is new territory, Sheldon. We’re not exactly emotional people.”

On the contrary…

“Okay,” Bryce corrected himself. “We’re emotional, but we don’t talk about that crap. Up until three days ago, I think the most emotional conversation that we had was when you told me that white bread makes you angry.”

My lips quirked at that. Wheat bread was the real deal, white bread was the fake bread.

“I just…” Bryce hung his head. “Go get the gun, Sheldon. Please. Go get the gun so that you feel safe and I can look at you and you can see that I’m telling the truth.”

I still didn’t move. I wanted to believe him. I wanted so badly…

“Please,” his plea was weaker.

“I can’t.”

“Then…call the police. Take your phone and call them. Just—open this goddamn door.”

“You call them.”

“I don’t have my phone. I left it at home because I was in such a rush to get here after Corrigan’s mom called me. I’m sorry.”

I pulled out my phone and felt it’s smooth contours. I didn’t press the buttons, but I didn’t turn my eyes from the door. I called out, “If you’re lying to me and you’re the psycho, I’m going to kill you.”

“Deal,” Bryce sighed in relief and I opened the door.

His smile was decorated with a few tears, but he swept me up and I didn’t see the tears. I just felt everything that he had told me. Bryce pulled away swiftly, grabbed my hand, and dragged me upstairs.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“We’re going to get that gun,” Bryce said firmly. “I’m not taking anymore chances. We don’t know what’s going on and I’m not…we’re getting that gun.” He pushed open the office door. Bryce quickly strode towards the couch. He bent and lifted the cushions as I wandered around to the computer screen.

“Are we…?” I let the question hang.

Bryce paused and glanced up. Our eyes met and he said slowly, “We’ll talk about it, but not now. There’s more important things to do.”

I frowned, confused, and I saw the computer screen. It had stopped blinking and an address stood prominently against the screen. I saw the address and realized I knew the address. That was when I looked up and said softly, “It says a lot when I did think you were the killer and…I wanted to stay with you.”

Bryce froze, the gun now in hand, and he stood. His eyes lifted and met mine.

I felt the punch and added, “I even understood a little, and I wasn’t actually…I must be pretty sick to still love you even when I thought what I thought.”

“You’re not sick, Sheldon,” he whispered.