The pub was decorated in red and pink hearts. It looked ridiculous to me. Jarring against the more rustic interior. But Willow insisted, and all I could do was follow orders.

I had never understood the hype around Valentines. Never understood why so many took it seriously and thought it such a beautiful and romantic day. Neither had I understood why people got so sad and upset if no one paid attention to them during Valentines. For me, it had always been a day like any other.

Until this year.

Me and Alasdair hadn't spoken a single word since Imbolc, since our fight.

It was, by far, the longest we had ever gone without talking, and every day it became harder. I wanted to go to him and ask him for forgiveness and then just soak in his closeness. But every time I almost did, I stopped myself.

It was better like this.

I tried to tell myself it wasn't just better for me, but for Alasdair as well. He didn't need me around. I was nothing more than a creep pining over him in secret, anyway. And with how angry and upset I had been lately, it wasn't like I contributed with anything positive in his life. Just drama he had never asked for and didn't deserve.

He was better off without me, and I needed to accept that and move on from him.

But it was hard that day. So many couples came to the pub. Both ones from the village, but also some strangers. A couple who grumbled over that the café was closed because they had actually wanted to go there since they had met there. Two women dressed in capes. A man and a woman who looked like they had never seen the sun.

Watching all the couples made me miss him like never before. It also reminded me that this Valentine was different. Both Airlia and Alasdair had someone to celebrate it with, after all.

Luckily, I had an early shift at the pub. So after the dinner rush, I got to go home where I could forget about what day it was. Mum and Dad weren't home either. They always went to some place where Mum could get a massage while Dad spent the whole day watching sports under the pretence of celebrating the day of love. So I had the whole house for myself.

I put on an action movie and drank some whisky while watching it. Put all my focus into following the movie to not think, to not feel. To not wish Alasdair would come knocking.

When the time reached midnight, I went up and to bed. As always, I looked at the painting on my bedside table. The one of me, Airlia, and Alasdair. My eyes lingered on Alasdair. In the painting, he smiled. My happy and sweet Alasdair. It used to always make me smile as well. I was happy knowing that though he wasn't there with me, he would always be the first thing I saw when waking up and the last thing before I fell asleep.

I turned the painting over. Placed it downwards so it wouldn't mock me with what I could never have. Then I flipped around in my bed so I had my back to it.

During small moments in my life, I had thought I maybe would get him eventually. Like when he had graduated from school and we had spent the afternoon dreaming about being roommates while pursuing our respective dreams in Edinburgh. It had been such a beautiful summer day, and we had been lying in their garden as the sun travelled further and further down.

Like the painting, the memory had before been a source of happiness for me. Now it was yelling at me over how stupid I had been to ever think that was possible.

I would never have him in my arms. Never get to share my life with him. Never be anything more than I was right now. And I had told myself that was okay a million times over. Had carved it into my bones.

But it wasn't okay.

Maybe it was time I confessed. Broke the promise I had made the moment I had realised my feelings. The outcome of that confession couldn't be anything worse than what I was living now, anyway. The worst thing which could happen was Alasdair thinking I was a freak. But that was okay. Then he would not want contact with me, and I could finally let him go.

The doorbell rang.

I flipped over to look at the clock on my bedside table. It was almost one am.

The doorbell rang again.

I groaned but got out of bed. Who the hell was disturbing me at this hour?

The doorbell rang a third time.

Something couldn't have happened, could it?

That thought spurred me from lazy movement to feverish action. I almost fell down the stairs in my hurry to reach the door while a question echoed inside of me.

Alasdair wasn't hurt, right? He hadn't gone an' landed himself in an accident, right?

As the doorbell rang a fourth time, I ripped the door open.

Alasdair wasn't hurt. But he stood on the other side of the door, swaying and reeking of alcohol.

"The hell ye doin' here? Why aren't ye with Flora?" I asked him and tried to cross my arms over my chest, but Alasdair tripped forwards and grabbed hold of both my shoulders.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked. His voice was thick and slurred, but it wasn't only the alcohol which caused it.

Alasdair the Fool. My beautiful and oblivious Alasdair, who could never do anything wrong.

I wiped under his eyes with my thumb. "How much have ye had to drink?"

"Just a wee," he hiccupped.

I shook my head at him before wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him inside. All thoughts of that I needed to keep my distance from him had been completely forgotten.

We got to the living room, and I let him plop down on the couch.

"I'll make ye some tea," I told him, but he shot up to standing and would have fallen had I not taken hold of his arm to steady him.

"Don't leave me!" He moved closer and grabbed hold of my t-shirt. Fisted the fabric. "Please! I don't wanna be alone."

"Okay, it's alright. I'll stay here," I reassured him, and together we sat down on the couch. He moved closer. Way too close. He straddled me. Hugged me. Pressed his head against my shoulder as he sobbed.

I wrapped my arms around him and drew circles on his back. I could barely make out his scent through the alcohol, but it was still there. He was warm in my arms. But his body shook from tears while I swore over how my body betrayed me.

There was nothing sexual about what was going on. If anything, he was acting like a child in need of comfort. But the simple closeness of him caused my blood to rush to one particular spot.

This was why he was better off without me. Even in these moments when all I should do was care for him, I failed him brutally.

Even if he was gay, he'd deserve better than me.

"Alasdair, why did ye come here?" I asked.

"I didn't wanna be alone," he mumbled against my shoulder.

"But why did ye come here, then? Why didn't ye go to Flora?"

He straightened himself. When people talk about that some were beautiful criers, I had always shaken my head. How could someone be beautiful with tears falling and snot running down from their nose?

Alasdair wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense as he stared into my eyes. His face was puffy and eyes red. But to me he was absolutely beautiful, beautifully vulnerable. Pain and ache and hurt was written all over his face. But also loneliness. Complete heartbreaking loneliness. The type I felt on a daily basis.

"Do ye not want me here? Do ye want me to leave? Do ye want to abandon me?"

I sighed at his questions. All of them were the opposite of what I wanted.

"Never, Alasdair."

"Then why have ye stopped talkin' to me? Why aren't ye my friend anymore? Please, just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it."

"Ye didn't do anythin'." I dried away the fresh batch of tears streaming down his face. "It's not yer fault at all."

"Then why? Please, Errol. I can't lose ye. I'm already losin' Airlia. She's barely been at home since Christmas, but is always with Ethan. An' that house is so empty without her. It's just me an' Mum an' I can't stand it. It feels as if Dad has just left again. An' I... I need ye."

"Fuck," I mumbled and pressed him to me again, hugged him with all my might.

I hadn't thought about that at all. Hadn't even for a moment considered how Airlia's relationship might affect Alasdair. Of course it would. They had both depended so much on each other throughout the years. Been each other's support. Of course, this was a huge change for him. A devastating change. But I had been too wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself to even consider any of this. Too busy hating how being with Alasdair made me feel to think about how he might be feeling.

"I'm sorry," I told him as I hugged him. "I haven't realised how hard that must be for ye. I should've an' should've been there for ye."

He didn't say anything more. And neither did I. He just cried against my shoulder while I held him until his tears ran out.

"Ye should drink some water, an' then go to bed. Ye'll sleep here tonight," I decided while he dried the remnants of his tears.

"Okay," he nodded.

After he had drunk three glasses of water, I brought him up to my bedroom. There, he promptly began to undress while I was still present.

"I'll go downstairs an' sleep on the..."

"No!" he interrupted me. My back had been to him, so he hugged me from behind. His head pressed against me as his arms wrapped around my stomach; his hands dangerously low. "I don't wanna be alone."

If only he knew what he was actually asking of me.

"Alright. I'll stay."

He got into bed in only underwear. I wore a t-shirt and underwear.

As soon as we were beside each other, he moved closer. Moved into my personal space and hugged me.

This will be a long night, I thought as I hugged him back.

"He is good for her, right? I just worry cos he believes in the supernatural like her. What if they do somethin' stupid cos of it? Or what if he leaves cos of some bullshit magic thin'?" Alasdair asked.

"She's talked less about magic since meetin' him," I pointed out.

"That's true. I just can't stop worryin' about her."

"Ye're her brother. 'Course ye'll worry."

My hands were on his back. His skin against mine. I wanted to trace his spine down. Feel him shiver under my touch. Wanted to cup his butt and press him closer to me. Feel every single part of him against my body. Wanted him to feel how hard he was making me and hoped I'd get to feel him being hard as well.

Though all of that was things which absolutely couldn't happen.

"I don't think I'll ever think anyone is good enough for her. Though Ethan is checkin' a lot of boxes," Alasdair said. When he talked, his breath fanned out, reached my skin and tickled it, caused goosebumps all over my body. If I hadn't been wearing a t-shirt, then his lips would have brushed against my skin when he talked as well.

"Can I confess somethin' to ye?" Alasdair said next.

"'Course." I held my breath with my nose full of the scent of chocolate and coconut.

"I don't think I'll ever think anyone is good enough for ye, either."

Of all the things he could have said, that was nowhere on my list. It left me feeling exposed and aching. But the ache wasn't the bad type of ache I was used to. Not completely, at least. This ache felt warmer.

"Really? I think ye think too highly of me then," I chuckled.

"Impossible," he murmured and then went silent.

He lay completely still for so long I thought he had fallen asleep. And maybe he had because the next two words out of his mouth must have been spoken to someone else as part of a dream. It was words he would never speak to me. At least not with the meaning I wanted.

"Love ye."

I didn't reply. Didn't check to see if he was awake. I wasn't sure what stopped me the most, what answer I feared getting the most. That he had been dreaming and said it to someone else in the dream. Or that he had been awake and said it to me.