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"No," Chel all but screeched, her nails digging into the cloth on hid back, silently begging him. Don't leave me.

From there Chel wasn't sure where to take it. Dawson was asking her for answers she didn't have. The bottle was put down, she wanted to be cognizant. She needed to remember how Dawson responded. She needed him to see she was trying, because for once on this island she had a good friendship she didn't want to lose. Not again. Not Evan, not Nevada.

Not Chris.

"I wanna be friends so badly holy s**t." It was pleasant, having an openly blunt sided conversation for once. "I love our weird as ******** chemistry." Chel hadn't realized until she said it that she did have feelings for Dawson, which was what was making this conversation so unbearable. "I'm sayin' I don't want to force my ... me on you if ya don't want to ... I don't want to lead you on."

Chel knew what she was trying to say. She wanted all the benefits of Dawson without the romance because there was none from her side. She wanted Dawson to understand that this problem didn't stem from any part of himself and was entirely her fault for being the way she was. She knew so many things she wanted to say, but as always, she was willing to sacrifice a part of her desires if it was what Dawson wanted. If he told her to leave and never come back, she would.

But she really didn't want to lose him too.

But she would understand-

But he deserved better-

But she wasn't better-

But-

Dawson's shove was barely a nudge, but Chel rocked back nonetheless. Like a pendulum she rolled forward and used the momentum to push Dawson down with a hug that could have given a grizzly bear a run for their money.

"I'm sorry man but I told you when we met that I was a d**k." Poor Dawson had to deal with heartbreak while the source was on top of him, kissing his cheek and shortly thereafter nuzzling the side of his face with her nose. Much more Chel. Much more normal.

Simple and unsatisfying results. Chel had no doubt that Dawson's response was the entire truth (Chel knew his eyes much better than that) but she also was willing to play along as long as it took to pull herself out of a mire of guilt. Between the hesitant status of her cousin, Jack's tumultuous emotions (or lackthereof) and everything that had happened in the past month, she was content to label Dawson as a home, even if they both knew that wasn't quite right.

"Melodrama don't look good on me," she admitted, "And it looks worse on you."

"Gaaaaay," Chel announced. "Just like me~" Well no, not just like her. Chel was much gayer than the average individual.

But despite her tease, Chel was relieved. She was glad her usual strategy of "blurt it all out until something works" had been successful. She never liked secrets and harbored feelings. "And f'you need a fling my lips are here." As well as any other part of her body, but it seemed unfair to mention that now.

She snorted, but it was probably more the alcohol talking now than her own voice. As the hat came over her head she fell into it, at ease with the simple motion of putting on a guy's hat. "Don't ever go on twitter then. I heard its a ******** here."

"Well I can't read, so twitter's a mystery." Blase as always. "Who's Horace?"

Her arms were slowly snaking up to his shoulders and towards his neck.

"F'serious 'bout what?" She took the bottle from his hand and took her own drink of it. She had two and then some now. "Dysleggggsiia?"

Chel slapped the bottle back in his hand, perfectly willing (perhaps even grateful) to share. She didn't want too much of the stuff anyways. She knew how she got.

"Yeah man. Can't read good. I know it must be a real shocker to find out I'm dumb as ********>." She laughed the sort of laugh that drew out for a beat too long; it was a long wheeze of air being let out of a hole rather than something joyful. "You think Cae-kale-ceeeaelius is bad, try lookin' at him when you got a report due and you can't read it." Another long, uncomfortable laugh.

"Never said I cared," Chel retorted. Her tongue was then promptly stuck out in a mature fashion. It did in fact accuse her of caring quite a bit.

She let out a long breath that filled the silence like a rolling cloud over a moor. "I got some time before my next shift. You wanna play cards or somethin'?"

"Who agrees to play cards when they don't got cards?"

But lucky for Dawson, Chel had more than enough friends to call in for a game of CaH. Dawson didn't get the choice- his dorm was now a party room.