The taxi to his place seems to last forever. I know it’s not that far, it’s just… silent and uncomfortable. I feel like an idiot. Worse than this, I feel like a failure. How pathetic that after all of that, I begged for help? I should just have gone home and dealt with the girls. I need a serious dose of ‘I told you so’ right now.

Scott pays for the cab, which I definitely need to pay back at some point, and I genuinely think that it couldn’t get worse, but a few steps from his building, I start feeling very dizzy. I just have time to take a deep breath, turn my head, and I am puking all over the curb. I vaguely feel a hand hold my arm to help me maintain my balance. I am grateful, but I also feel ashamed. I almost wish he wasn’t there. That I could take it all back so he would never have seen me like this.

What does he think of me now?

I keep my eyes on the floor. And there, in the middle of everything my body just rejected, is the pill I took from Clark. And although I know some of it made it to my system, I’m so incredibly relieved to see it there. I don’t even know what it is. God. What the hell is wrong with me?

Scott gently pulls on my arm. “Come on Andrew Scott. Let’s get you inside.”

“I should get home,” I say.

He pulls a bit more firmly. “Let’s get in. We’ll get some fluids in your body and maybe clean up a little. If you want to get home then, I’ll take you there.”

“I don’t want to… I’m just… I…”

“Andrew, please. I understand the need to get to a safe place and I get that my place isn’t that for you. But I think you need a two-minute breather and I really want to keep an eye on you for another half hour. In case you need to be taken to the hospital.”

Hospital? I look down at the pill again. Yeah, he might have a point. I wouldn’t let Kate or Grace out of my sight if one of them had taken something shady. Plus, he is wrong. I have never been to his place, but I already know I’ll feel safe there. No matter what the place is like, I trust the man to keep me safe.

Is this me being stupid again? I barely know him. And yet… it feels differently.

He pulls a third time, even more gently than the first time and I follow him without even thinking about it.

Scott’s apartment, although in the same building, is smaller than Taz’s. I don’t really get time to take anything in as he takes me to the bathroom first. There is an actual tub in there and he sits me on the edge.

He kneels in front of me and gently rubs my leg. “What do you want, Andrew Scott? A quick wash on the sink or a shower? I can also run you a bath if you want to.”

“Aren’t you a bit drunk and tired too? You don’t need to babysit me.”

“I’m alright.”

“Yeah, but I’m not. I don’t want to be such a burden on you.”

He doesn’t dismiss it and I really appreciate it. I know this isn’t what he wanted to do with the rest of his night. He probably would be having more sex with Stan if I wasn’t such a piece of trash. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Andrew Scott, you are a bit of trouble, tonight. But sometimes it’s worth going through a bit of trouble.”

I really want to ask why but I can’t. I am too afraid to have to face the reality that he is just a caring person and that he would have done the same for anyone in distress. I look at him and I am a bit overwhelmed by how beautiful he is. I need to snap out of it.

“I could do a shower,” I tell him.

“I’ll get you a towel. And a toothbrush.”

I nod, grateful. He is humbling me.

I do feel better after getting the shower, but only partially. Because I could only clean the outside.

I leave the bathroom wearing the t-shirt and tracksuit pants that he left for me. That could be an emergency pajama or whatever clean clothes he is willing to lend me before going home. I’m not sure what his plans are. I’m not sure what my plans are.

I have a bit more time to look around this time. The apartment is one large room. The kitchen is modern but there is no counter and a large, rustic table instead. The living room part looks welcoming and I can picture him there with some friends. In the back of the room, a space, probably the bedroom, is separated from the rest of the room by a massive blue mirror. And I don't mean the frame, it's the reflection that is dark blue. As it is big enough to serve as a wall between the two 'rooms', it gives a cool and eerie edge to the corner of the living room.

I don't look at the place that much, though. I focus on Scott, walking toward me with a large glass of water and two pills.

“Aspirin,” he announces. “You don’t have to take them now. I personally don’t think it’s useful to have them before bed, but if you want them, they’re here.” I take it all. The water and the pills. At least, I know what they are this time.

“How are you feeling?” he asks and my heart flutters. Because he is so close, so caring, because his eyelashes are so long, because of the tiny darker spot under his eye, because his jaw is so perfect, because… Something to make you feel in love, Clark had promised. I can definitely feel it now.

When I tried to kiss him earlier tonight it was out of spite and I am happy he didn’t let me. But this is different. Surely, he can feel it too. I step closer and he puts a hand on my chest to keep me away. “I don’t think you’re in the best headspace for that,” he comments and, after reducing myself to a piece of meat all evening, it feels so strange to be rejected by someone because he cares…

“I’m sorry,” I say and, to make tonight even more mortifying, I burst out crying.

“Hey, hey , hey, it’s okay,” Scott says pulling me in for a tight hug. “Everything is fine.”

“I am such a mess. Scott, what am I doing with my life?”

“Everyone’s a mess,” he replies softly. “But it’s not that bad.”

“I’m such a failure.”

“I don’t know you very well, Andrew Scott,” he replies, still holding me close, “but I can already tell you that you are no such thing. You might have lost your way a bit, but I’ve seen you. You’ll find it soon enough.”

I keep crying, letting go of months of doubt, frustration, anger, fear, sadness… I am sorry Scott has to be there when I give in. Then again, maybe I could allow myself to feel all of that because he offered me the safe space to do so. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

“Do you still want me to take you home?” I shake my head. “Okay, then. Let’s take you to bed.”

“I can’t take your bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“It’s a tacit rule for all good hosts. The guest with the life crisis meltdown gets the comfier bed.”

I smile at that and it stops the tears. The bedroom space is indeed behind the mirror and I am surprised to realize that, from this side, we can see the living room. From this side, it is just a pane of blue glass. Given that the bedroom doesn’t have any windows, it’s a clever way to let some light in, I guess.

“Professional quirk?” I ask him, pointing at the one-way mirror.

“I actually almost never use the interrogation room,” he replies with a smile. Scott switches on the bedside lamp and asks me if I need anything. I don’t. I ask if he is sure I should take the bed. He is. I lie down and look at the pane. I look at Scott through the blue glass when he gets back to the other side but he then switches off the light in the living room and the ‘wall’ turns into a mirror. I understand how one-way mirrors work. My side is now the brighter one. It’s Scott’s turn to be able to see me. I am tempted to switch off the light just to be able to see him again but at least like this, I can pretend that he is looking at me through this odd but interesting partition.

Then I hear the shower. He is not looking at me. Then again, why would he be?

I am woken up by Scott, freshly out of the shower.

“Hey, Andrew. Sorry to wake you. Is it okay if I take your pulse? I want to make sure that it’s safe for you to go to sleep right now.”

I nod and I feel his soft fingers on my wrist. After thirty seconds – or so I imagine, I’m still half asleep – he lets go of it, apparently satisfied. Disappointment pierces my stomach.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay on this side. Please”

He looks at me for a few seconds and I know he is going to say no. Decline my third pathetic attempt to keep him close tonight, although they are getting more genuine each time. But even if I knew it was a lost cause, I also felt a burning need to ask. As if keeping the words in would have been more painful than rejection. Probably because he is never cruel in his rejections.

Surprisingly, though, he lies right behind me and holds me close again, spooning me. “Don’t worry, I’m right here. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.” And I think he understood my needs better than I did. I start crying again and he stays there, holding me, not letting go, keeping me safe.

Tomorrow morning will be all kinds of awkward, but right now, I am taking everything he is giving me. Because it happens to be exactly what I need.