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"Does it matter?" Avery snapped, a hint of a growl in his voice, lips curled up just enough to show a hint of his sharp teeth. "Is that all you can say? Not, 'I'm sorry that I haven't been honest with you, Avery'? That might have been an appropriate answer." Avery crossed his arms over his chest. "Apologies are always a good way to start, but I don't know if it's going to help you any. But then again, I guess I'm just some islander you know..." The fur on the back of Avery's neck was standing up on end, the anger taking over. "I'd love to hear your excuse for this."

"Yeah, I could see that... but you didn't seem to be complaining too much," Avery snarled. "Which part was the mistake, Tim... sleeping with him, or getting together with me?" He turned his head back to the TV, pressing the play button again, fast forwarding through it. He nearly knew the whole thing by heart, now. "Oh look," he said, pressing play to resume the DVD to normal. "This is my favorite part... when you tell Vasile about how you don't want to hurt me. And how you didn't tell him about me because you were afraid that meant you wouldn't get to sleep with him... oh, good stuff. Really."

Avery moved away from the TV then, walking closer to Timothy to stand in front of him. "I want to know... how many more lies have to told me, how many more secrets have you kept from me? When you told me you loved me that day up on the cliffs... was that a lie?"

"Vasile came onto me too, you know - but I turned him down, said I had a boyfriend I cared a lot about. That's what you call controlling - your - hormones," Avery said, punctuating the last three words with a jab of his finger against Timothy's chest. "You know, I agreed to having a threesome with Vasile not only because, yes, he is sexy - but because you would be there, too. I wanted to share the experience with you. I wouldn't sleep with Vasile alone because he isn't the one I'm in love with."

Avery clenched and unclenched his hands, resisting the strong urge to break something important. To upset Timothy even more. All he wanted to do was take Timothy's guitar and smash it against the wall. It was a pleasing scenario that he played over in his head a few times. "Ironic how all this time, you were so in love with me, and how long it took me to really fall for you... only to have you be the one who cheated on me in the end."

"Oh, Tim," Avery murmured softly, and he almost sounded as if he felt bad for the other boy. "I think you missed the part where I said 'in the end.' As in, it's over. Finished. Done. Through. I can tell you exactly what to do now. This is the part where you pack up your things and move back into your duplex, or I toss all your s**t over the balcony outside my door and kick you out." He wasn't quite sure why he wasn't screaming and yelling like he expected he would. He wasn't even crying. He felt strangely calm - still very angry and hurt, yes, but calm nonetheless. Perhaps it was because he knew that he wasn't the only one suffering right now, and that was enough to satify him for the moment.

"And make sure you take your guitar," Avery said, "because if you don't I am going to break it. If you can't go back to your own duplex anymore because it's a recording studio now, maybe Vasile will take you in. I'm sure that you would enjoy that."

Avery felt like he was on the verge of a breaking point while he watched Timothy gather the few things he had in silence. It was a strained silence, having so much more to say, but unwilling to bring himself to speak his thoughts anymore. If Timothy stuck around much longer he was either going to start crying or start throwing things, that much he knew.

When Timothy turned to him and asked for forgiveness again, Avery took a deep breath and said, "I'm confused why you're still standing in my duplex with your crap. I thought I told you to leave." The coldness in the tone of his voice made it clear there would be no forgiving today or in the foreseeable future.

Avery slammed his door shut as soon as he Timothy was clear from the doorway. He locked the door when he heard Timothy start crying, and he went back to his bed, crawling under the blankets and using his pillows to cover his head to block out the sounds. Avery wished his hearing wasn't so good as tears began to fill his eyes. Why did the bed have to still smell like Timothy? And the pillows, and the blankets... Avery could not escape Timothy's scent. He had hoped that Timothy would always be around; being stuck on this island was a lot easier to deal with when you had someone else to support you. Now... Avery had no idea what he was going to do, the fur on his muzzle becoming damp with tears.