I will

rise up

in spite of the ache

Henry tried to ignore the hateful words his ex offered him, trying to give the man the benefit of the doubt. He tried so hard to just let the words roll off his shoulder and not bother him, but he couldn't help it. Those words hurt. The hurt more than he thought they would. After all this time, did Sterling not know that he had tried to find him? That he was so guilty and upset that he turned back to drugs and alcohol? Clearly, he didn't know or didn't care - neither option was great in Henry's eyes.

He tried to distract himself, placing the garlic bread on the plate and grabbing the beer. He sat down at the table, trying to focus on the meal that he had prepared. After several long minutes, it was very clear that Henry wouldn't be doing much eating. All he was doing was shoveling the pasta from one side of the plate to the other. He sighed. "Do you honestly think I didn't go looking for you?" It still appalled him that Sterling thought he just abandoned him, that he didn't love the man enough to go looking.

He took another sip of the beer before he leaned back in the chair. "I went to every damn hospital in the city looking for you. I checked every day for two weeks and no one would tell me anything. They didn't seem to know who you were or didn't seem to care." Maybe they had known it was a mauling and that they didn't want him to know where Sterling was in case he had come back to finish the job. Maybe they thought they were trying to protect Sterling or maybe they had him listed under a wrong name or had him listed as a "no info" patient. Regardless of the reason, Henry hadn't been able to locate him.

Taking another sip, he looked up at Sterling. This time, his eyes were softer. "Do you remember when we first met? When you struggled to get me clean?" It hadn't been a good time in his life, but Sterling had helped him get clean. He had gotten him back on his feet and Henry knew he could never repay the man. "I really thought I had killed you. Maybe if you saw how much it killed me to think that I had killed you, you might stop saying shit like I don't love you enough to go looking. When I thought you died, for months I was so high I didn't even know which way was up. I couldn't' forgive myself for ever hurting you like that." His guilt had nearly killed him. Too many times he had nearly over dosed and he had to be given Narcan by the local paramedics. Too many times he mixed drugs with alcohol just hoping that dying would take the pain away. "I blame myself every day for nearly killing you. I hate that part of me and there isn't a day that goes by that I wish I hadn't tried to save that fucking dog for the neighbors. I hate that side of me that loses control. Nothing you can say can make me hate myself more than I already do." He could feel the way a tear began to settle in the corn of his eye. He hated that he was being brought to tears. It hurt that he loved the man at the bar so much and his love was matched with hate.

Slowly, he stood from the table, unable to stay here any longer for fear. His jaw was set, his expression somewhere between hurt and anger. "If you think I didn't love you enough, you couldn't be more wrong. I love you with every cell in my body. But I have to ask myself one thing. How is it that you didn't love me enough to believe me?" Believe him when he said he went looking, that he lost himself to drugs, that he wouldn't have slept with Malia if he had known the boy was alive. If Sterling had loved him, then why did he not trust his word anymore? Perhaps that hurt more than anything - Sterling was unable to trust him.

He left his meal on the table, no longer hungry. He felt sick. All this time, he had poured his love out to Sterling and how had he been repaid? With the knowledge that just maybe, Sterling had never loved him as much as he had. Crossing the hallway, he entered the guest room and slammed the door shut. He felt like he needed to hurl, like he wanted to punch a hole through the wall. His heart ached and he had no idea what to do to make it better.

Henry Tudor

I will rise a thousands times again