"Who sent it?" asks Douglas, kissing Paulie tenderly on the neck.

"Colin's"

"Oh" whinces Douglas.

"Nah, it's alright. I still haven't opened it, you know. You can read it with me."

"Where did you get it?" he asks.

"Just arrived here today. Relatives in Edinburgh and all."

"Your's?"

"Yes, mine. We should pay a visit sometime."

"Yeah, some day."

Both men know such a visit will never happen.

Paulie gently opens the envelope, savouring the textures with his fingers. He pulls the letter out.

"Paulie,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I run away, I'm sorry I acted like I did all those years ago. But above all things, I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I don't know if you heard anything from me after that night, and I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't. I was in a very dark place, Paulie, though I think you can guess that. When I left that night, I thought I was going to die. I felt that I took things too far, and I went to get some help, to keep my head straight. But I couldn't stop it. I kept taking more and more drugs, until I was basically dying on the street, alone, without a home and bankrupt.

Truth is, I'm not really that much without anyone, really. I remember you always commented on my bravery, how I stood up to our "friends", but I did it because of you. I did it because I loved you, because you gave me something to fight for, because you'd always be there, at the end of the day, just for me. Without those things, without you, I'm just a sad, pathetic man, and in restrospect I should've warned you about that.

I spent a time on the streets, all the people I once defended us against getting their commeupance. All the insults came back, and with them beatings and spitting and degrading. I thought I was going to die, Paulie, and for once in my entire life, I prayed. Next thing I knew, people came to my rescue, fed me and clothed me, took care of my drug problems and put me back on my feet.

They were Mormon missionaries. And, in my state, I did as they said. I forsook the drugs, I forsook my atheism, I forsook Brittain, I forsook my homosexuality. I forsook myself, Paulie, but I didn't knew it, I didn't knew it when it was too late. Between that and then, I spit on your pictures, I prayed that you died of AIDS, I did all those horrible things anyone could do by faith. I married and I have now three daughters and a son, whom I educated like the church asked me to. I preached that I had been cured, I preached that I had been freed from demons, the worst of them being you, and I frightened my children so much. Deep down, I knew that I had never been cured, but you know how these things are.

And it didn't stop there. I had a hand in the protests, I had a hand in all those horrible statements against our love. And when my daughter came out, I did as the church told me, cured her, set her up with the boys of our village in Utah. Yes, Paulie, I had my little girl raped, just for being who she was. I cried both then and when she commited suicide not too long after, but in public I praised her death.

I became so fucked up Paulie, I became more and more fucked up as the church goes on. I can't take it anymore, I can't take all the horrible things I did to the people I truly love, you and my children.

I told them the truth, and now I've run away, back to where we lived. I don't think you'll find me after you read this letter, at least not alive.

If you ever read this, I hope you know that I understand that you now hate me. And you should. But, once again, I'm sorry for everything. That's all I want to say anymore. Sorry.

Goodbye,

Colin"

Douglas was shocked, then enraged. Paulie was never shocked. On the contrary, he smiled understandingly. Then he collapsed in his lover's arms, his sobs more like painful cough, which utterly broke Douglas' heart.

Both men held each other, crying until the Sun rose.