Ladon had nothing to do and nowhere to go, and it was the worst situation he could have been in at the moment. He had, as it was, very limited company, one of which didn't want to see him and probably never would, and the other he wasn't so sure about. After that tragedy of a third date, Ladon was lost on what to do. Not only was he unsure in matters of being in a relationship, already having to deal with the large lump of a revelation that he was pursuing a relationship with a boy not only out of desperation but with actual feeling attached, but now he had to deal with a whole mess of drama before he even managed to take his first baby steps.

He was never with anyone. No one bothered, and he never pursued. Yes, he sometimes crushed. He crushed hard one – a while back, but he had been recovering and getting over that. And now he had someone, he was learning a lot, but he also knew he was miles away from everyone else. Everyone else had done their laps around the track thousands of times, and he was just kicking off from the starting point.

And that's when he felt the worse. He needed advice from people like that, from people like Paris, and he didn't have it. Left to his own devices, Ladon felt he was unarmed for this sort of inner battle. What did he do? How should he handle it? Should he be pissed, understanding, forgiving, and who had the right to feel what? Who was in the wrong and who was being stubborn? All of it was a murky gray and he wished he could put it in perspective.

It had been bothering him for the past few days. After washing dishes from that night, he woke up with no one to turn to and nothing to do. So, he continued from that night of cleaning dishes and worked on the rest of the house. It was as if there was no stopping him from those dishes crusted with the destroyed dinner. It went from the dishes, then to the counters, the stove, and then the cabinets, he organized, than washed, and then he decided to sweep and mop. Not just normal swiffering either. Hands and knees mopping. After that and seeing everyone was done, even some old dishes that had gone dusty, he traveled out and went into the living room. He cleaned spots, vacuumed, dusted, found grates to clean, and made any excuse to just focus on some mind-numbing task that made him feel productive and reaching some simple, attainable goal.

His mother just felt it was being cooped up inside that brought him to do some winter cleaning, but she approved and didn't stop him. She walked by at times, completely ignorant of his problems and complexities. It wasn't like he could sit with her and talk about it. She'd clearly state the case that either one of them, Billy and Paris, were bad influences and try to set him up with a nice, pleasant girl – a daughter from a fellow co-worker – and then push towards marriage.

By the time the end of the week rolled around, he was in his attic, organizing Christmas decorations into tubes. It was something they always meant to do, but while he was up there sorting things out, he thought he might as well. It was awfully cold, but he didn't feel bothered to go downstairs and sort all of this on a more suitable and heated floor.

He felt the cold chill suited his mood, and it was quiet here. Dark and private.

Danging a little bell from his fingers, he breathed out. His brain was cycling again. In the short time he was his friend, Paris had been there for him. On one hand, he wasn't the best person to judge him on what was right or wrong, or what his taste in people should be. It was here that Ladon hated him. He hated that the boy insulted him, said he was naïve and stupid and clearly knew nothing, and yet had judged him on love – something he didn't even believe in.

Worst of all, he hated him for taking Billy.

He never felt this level of jelousy and pain, but part of him felt stupid for it. He should have realized that everyone else was having sex before him. All kids did. The whole flipping – no – ******** work messed around – and he was the joke thinking he should save himself and believe that whoever he found would have thougth the same way. Billy had admitted he was rather corrupt and used people. So he probably had sex before. He probably had lots of sex, been with lots of people, and knew so much more. Ladon was stupid for thinking that the boy's smooth moves and ease were just natural talent. It was experience. He learned these with other people. His exes. It just…………it was just he somewhat hoped he'd be with someone who was going to be with him first when the time came. Whenever that time came. If that time ever came.

But not only was that tender thought destroyed, it was with someone he knew and trusted. Yes, it was before he knew Billy. Yes, he wasn't in the equation at that point. Yes, they weren't together now, but it still hurt!

Paris was – had been? – his friend. What little sort time they knew each other, they had been friends. While Paris was open, Ladon had told him more than anyone else and Paris still wanted to be his friend. Ladon knew about his quirks, free lifestyle, easy living and poor morals, but he still liked hanging out with him. He wanted to trust him since Paris had been there for him, but how could he side with someone who couldn't be happy for him and wanted him to break up with the one person he wanted to be with? He just – couldn't do that. Did that mean he decided to pick Billy over Paris and that, in the end, there was no having both?

He wished he had advice. He wished he had experience in these things to make his own decision, and that old bitterness that came fresh and new with recent events welled up him. He wished…………he wished he didn't care. He wished he was as easy as everyone else. As Billy. As Paris. Maybe then he would have meet Billy sooner or maybe he just wouldn't care now. He wished he just gave it away. He hated being like this. He hated everyone calling him naive or innocent. Before it was sweet, but now it just stung. What use was it when it never helped you, made life difficult, and made you an outcast among your peers?

Turning, he laid down on the cold wood. His phone was in his back pocket, but it was useless to him. Paris hated him, and Billy didn't have a cell phone. He was left to his own devices – and there was nothing left to clean.