I sit on the ground, contrite and mournful, while Emery paces around the room.
"You confuse me and infuriate me," he hisses. "What do you want from me, Brandon? Do you want me to be your best friend or your boyfriend?!"
"Why not both?"
He heaves a frustrated sigh, dragging his hand through his curls. "I, uh...understand if you don't want me in the wedding anymore-"
"The wedding," Emery laughs, rolling his eyes heavenwards. "Shut the fuck up."
"Why?"
"Because I need to fucking think," he snaps venomously. He doesn't swear, and the uncharacteristic outburst stuns me into silence. "Because... Because you know why," he confesses with his back to me. His voice sounds thin, like each word is painful.
"Why were you so mad when I said it, then?" I press him.
"Because you were right." His shoulders shake; I know he's crying. "Brandon, all I ever wanted was to give up on you, and I didn't know how."
"And did you?"
He turns around and shakes his head, eyes teary and hand plastered over his mouth.