When Edmund woke up, he did not regret drinking.  He regret ever being born.

A quick glance around the hotel room was enough to tell him that he was alone.  He had fallen asleep in Mable's bed, beside her, as she cried herself to sleep and cried more in her dreams.

He felt like shit.  Even more so when, as he finally got up to start the day, he noticed a glass of water on the nightstand.  Right at the edge, close to him, obviously meant for him.

He felt to cry.  Mable was too good for him.

Edmund downed the glass of water gratefully, and filled it up in the bathroom sink to drink more because he was very certain that he's never been quite so thirsty before in his life.  There was no breakfast waiting for him on the table, but that was okay.  He couldn't stomach anything this early anyway.

He needed to find Francis.

Leaving the hotel room into the bright sun of outside was more difficult than it should have been, but he didn't have a choice.  He really, really needed to find Francis.

Not that he had any idea what he would say to him when he did.  Memories of the night before painted Edmund's face bright red, made him touch his lips in a poor echo of Francis, had his heart beating so loud he was sure the people around him would hear and know.

But he had to find Francis.  He'd told him the night before he would, and they needed to sort this out sooner rather than later.

So, Edmund headed to St. Hilda's.

Francis was in a wonderful mood. He'd had a great night and met a great person he wanted to see again. He wasn't a fool though, he knew there was always a chance the other regretted it.

When he left the Presbytery after having breakfast he saw the familiar man coming. He didn't have a smile like yesterday so worry came to Francis. Last night was a mistake. He was a mistake.

There was a moment as he paused in his steps to take a shaky breath and steel himself for what was to come.

He gave a small wave, "Edmund!"

Edmund was pulled from his thoughts when he heard his name called.  He did not need to look long at all to see Francis just outside the church.

For no reason, his face got red again.

He returned the wave, but didn't call back.  Couldn't.  His voice wouldn't do as he wanted it to, so he waited until he was close enough to be heard at a normal volume.

"Fran - Francis."  Should he - shake his hand, or hug him, or - kiss him?  Edmund's face burned.  "It's good to see you again."

There was no call back, just the wave. He approached and saw how red his face was. He offered a small smile and gestured his arm. "It's really good to see you again" He just wish the other meant it and he wasn't sure now that he was sober.

"Did you want to talk privately?" He asked gesturing to the back of the building. It wasn't for the same reason as last night. The other wanted to talk, but now he probably didn't want to be seen to him. That's why he didn't call out. He didn't want to draw attention. It hurt but Francis knew it was expected. At least he'd had last night.

Behind the church?  Where they'd peed?  Well, at least Edmund's face couldn't get any more red...

"Sure."  He nodded for Francis to lead the way and followed beside him, the same way they'd walked together the night before.  Except, significantly less drunk and significantly more embarrassed.  On Edmund's part anyway.

"How - how was your night?  Did you sleep well?"  Silence felt awkward.  Edmund was too much in his head when it was quiet.

Francis walked along side him, worry filled him even though he told himself it would be fine. He knew this could happen even before he left the pub last night. He hung his head and kept pace with the shorter man.

"Ah, yeah. I slept pretty good. Did you sleep okay?" He asked glancing at the other from the corner of his eye. He didn't want to be caught looking in case it would irritate the other.

When he got behind the church, he picked a spot they hadn't defiled and leaned against the stone as he looked to him, awaiting the bad news he felt was coming like dark clouds on the horizon.

Edmund had been too drunk last night to remember where exactly he and Francis had... ahem.  He figured it wasn't where the other had chosen to lean, hoped it wasn't, but he didn't want to take any chances.  He stayed standing across from Francis, looking at his face and then away only to look back again.

"I... I slept okay, too."  He didn't think Francis wanted to hear about the argument he had with Mable last night.  It would just make him upset.

"I - we should, hah, probably talk then?"  Edmund was fiddling with his fingers.  Francis' eyes were even bluer in the sunlight.  "Be - before you say anything, though, don't - don't say anything for my sake, or - or Mable's.  Just be honest, please, yeah?"

Concern came upon his face as the other looked at him and toyed with his hands. He stared so intently last night, it allowed Francis to dive into his eyes. Today, he looked even better but he couldn't think about that. The other was about to take him out of his life.

"Of course I'd be honest. I'd not get much out of lying. So, please..just talk." He said softly. Was there cracking in his voice. It definitely sounded more tragic than he'd meant to, knowing what was to come. Edmund beating around the bush was only prolonging this torment.

Right.  Of course.  Lying would be pointless.  Completely pointless.  All Edmund had to do was say the truth.

If only he knew what that was.

He took a breath, running a hand through his hair once and then again, and counted to five.  He was stalling.  He hated himself.

"What I said last night," he finally began, "I didn't - I wasn't lying.  I really - I'd be honored if you really think you could... love me.  But I don't think you or anyone else should want to.  I'm not - I was drunk last night, I'm not really like that.  Happy, and smiley and..."  Edmund waved his hand a bit before it returned to his hair, tugging on the strands above his neck.

"I'm sort of just... not very nice, or good at much of anything."

Francis looked away as he listened and nodded indefatigable until he heard everything. He glanced over. "You think that?" He didn't want to dismiss his concerns. "You weren't happy when I met you. And you told me you hadn't been happy before. I believed you " He reached out for his hand. "I wouldn't be the type to believe I could make you happy all the time. But I still want to do my best and be with you.." he said quietly and still very nervous. "And you k ow, I'm not good at anything either."

Was it true? Did he honestly want to be with Francis or was this just an excuse to break away? At least he cares about his feelings which was touching no matter how this day ended.