I know I shouldn't have left Luke in the hospital, but I did. Seeing him lying there all battered and bruised with his secret revealed to me was just too much. Maybe I was a bitch at the time, but I didn't know what else to do. It killed me to see him in so much pain, and I honestly felt guilty knowing that I'd gone through his things. Looking back, it was a harsh thing to do, but at the time, I thought it was right.

The drive home was filled with sniffles and soft cries, feeling terrible about Luke and breaking his promise, and struggling to convince myself that I could still love Luke the same, given what had been revealed about him. You might be wondering if I read the letter he gave me. I didn't, initially. In fact, I placed it back in the gift bag, and when I got home from seeing Luke, I threw the bag on my dresser and kept it there. Don't ask what compelled me not to read what was inside, but I didn't.

Part of me wanted to go back to the hospital to tell Luke what I was feeling, but like the coward I was, I chose not to. Instead, I tried thinking of every possible outcome from the conversation I'd eventually have with him, hoping to determine which approach would be best.

The following week while Luke was still recovering in the hospital, I received a few text messages from him. Some were apologetic in nature, telling me he was sorry for putting me through what he did. Others asked me if I was okay and indicated that he couldn't wait to see me when he got home, smiley faces and all.

And still, I couldn't bring myself to talk to him, because I didn't know how. Women, right?

I used to be one of those types of people who thought that ignoring or avoiding the situation at hand would make it go away, as stupid as that sounds. I didn't mind confrontation one bit, but this was different. This was a guy I loved so dearly and yet didn't know if I could confess to him what I found out and how I felt about it.

During my days of ignoring Luke, I occasionally spent more time looking through his files, still trying to understand what the whole diaper and baby thing did for Luke. I think what upset me most were the images. In my mind, grown men weren't supposed to wear diapers, nor be fed baby bottles, or cuddled and held. I'd even tried staring at pictures of Luke, imagining what he'd look or sound like in that state of mind. It didn't click. Not right away, anyway. Had I not been such an idiot, I would've read his letter sooner, but"¦I was in fact, an idiot.

* * *

Petty responses to my text messages, no answers to my phone calls, nothing. Molly had essentially abandoned me in the hospital while I recovered. Thankfully, I wasn't there as long as I thought I had to be. By New Year's I was at least allowed to go home. The doctor told me I'd need to rest often and take it one day at a time. And yet, I wondered if Molly had read my letter. If she did, then it meant that she didn't understand, which would've explained why she'd been avoiding me.

On the other hand, that dream I had. Though just a dream, was it possible that she'd actually gone through my files, or didn't delete them at all? The latter wasn't the case, as my PC's browsing history and file full of goodies were gone. The former, however, was still a mystery. I knew Molly, and she liked to joke about different things, both sexual and non-sexual, all the time. Surely if she'd found out before reading my letter, she wouldn't have minded. Based on how she'd been acting, I couldn't tell what was wrong right away. Then the e-mails stopped, and the text messages got shorter, and the phone calls ceased to be. Was she really that upset about what I had asked her to do?

It's ridiculous how paranoid we get when we're waiting for a response of some kind from someone we care about, especially when it's something we feel the need to know about almost immediately. The mental torture Molly had put me through didn't help me recover any better, either. Sure, I managed to be able to get up and move around for longer periods of time (though not as swiftly and elegantly as I normally did), but the added stress of receiving generally lifeless messages from the one woman I truly cared about only made the recover process that much more difficult. To make matters worse, I hadn't been able to leave the house due to my injuries for a few weeks! With Molly not coming to visit and me being cooped up for so long, the paranoia only grew worse, and my greatest fears started to get the best of me.

I remember my fourth week at home, I finally gathered the strength to pay Molly a visit. Despite the slight pain I felt whenever I walked for too long, the need to get to the bottom of the situation outweighed overexerting myself. It was a particularly cold and snowy day when I hobbled over to Molly's house. I had no idea what I was about to walk into, but I kept telling myself that it would all be over soon. She would cry and apologize to me, because she was too scared to see me after I nearly died, and because she loved me so much, it pained her to see me this way. The stupid fantasies of hopeless romantics like me.

Oddly enough, the closer I got to her door, the worse the feeling in my gut became. Something was, or was about to be, very off. Still, I overcame my hesitance and knocked on her door a few times. It wasn't long before someone came to the door; it was Molly. She peeked out from behind the curtain, then looked a little upset when she saw me. Slowly, the door opened.

"Hey Molly. How's tricks?" I said, trying to mask my uneasiness.

"Hey Luke." She replied bluntly, ignoring my question and letting out the fakest of smiles.

There was a slight pause, as I waited for her to either invite me in or hug me, or"¦anything. But, there was nothing.

"L-look, I was hoping we could talk. You've been distant this past month. " I said weakly as the snow gently fell. "

"I know, Luke. I don't know what to say." I could almost feel the trace of resentment escape her lips. "It's just-" another long pause ensued. "-hard"¦"

Hard? She thought this was hard? Not only had I potentially put our friendship on the line by writing her that letter, but I'd nearly died! Before I acted, I made the wise choice to think.

"What's hard, Molly? I mean, I know I've had to be a hermit these past few weeks, but it isn't forever. And I know now that I shouldn't have asked you what I did before I went under. And I'm sorry for that." I explained, unaware of what she did or didn't know.

"I accept your apology, Luke," she sighed, "but you're right. You shouldn't have asked me. And that's what makes this so hard for me."

Had she read my letter? The look in her eyes told me she knew something. And still, we danced around the subject like a stubborn, immature pair of children.

"So you read my letter, then"¦"

"W-what? No, I-"

As if in slow motion, the "No" rang in my ears like the bells of the world's largest Sistine chapel. The "No" that instantly turned my fear into anger. The "No" that instinctively told me that Molly broke our promise. The "No" that forced me to remember my odd dream when I nearly died.

"You looked at my files? And you didn't bother reading the letter within the folder? The one I handwrote to you in the Christmas card?"

Please say yes, please say yes"¦.please just say you're upset because I expressed my love to you in the letter and you don't feel the same way.

"I read enough, Luke."

"I can't believe you looked at my stuff when you promised!" The trace of resentment that came from Molly's mouth was nothing compared to the anxiety and anger that shot from mine.

"I know"¦and I'm sorry. But you hid it from me, your own best friend! I had to know what you were hiding!"

"And it was all going to be revealed and explained in the letter! And we would talk about it in a much kinder way than we are now!"

Molly kept silent, which only made me more upset. I could see her eyes tear up, and it didn't take long for mine to do the same, the tears stinging from the cold air.

"If you're not going to say anything, then I hope you'll at least let me talk more about this, because now you know the most vulnerable part of me, Molly. And now I see why you've been looking at me and treating me differently."

"I don't want to, Luke!" Molly snapped at me. "Whatever you have isn't normal, and I tried. I tried these past few weeks to understand, and I can't! I mean, what would compel you to even think of something like this? It's a clash of two completely different things, and no matter what I do, I can't make them fit together!"

Her words stung worse than anything I'd ever felt, making me nearly stagger, as the pit in my stomach suddenly grew ten times in size.

"But you're my friend, Molly! You're supposed to be there and let me explain. At least give me the chance to try and help put them together with you!"

Molly merely shook her head and bit her lip.

"I promised I'd tell you someday, Molly, and I did. I did because I love you."

"No, Luke. Don't even say that. That's not fair." Molly again shook her head.

"And you also promised me that you wouldn't think differently of me no matter what. Just hear me out"¦please."

"I-I'm sorry. I can't. I just can't. Just go away"¦" Molly cried as she hurriedly went back into her house, quickly closing the door behind her.

"Molly?! Get back here! You promised!" I cried once more, yelling as if the window on the door didn't have any glass.

Molly merely turned to me from inside her house, and shook her head, her tears still visibly running down her cheek. And just like that, she disappeared from my view, leaving me in the cold, snowy silence.

"Some fucking friend you are! I can't believe you!" I sobbed before heading down her driveway, hobbling back to my house.

If there's one thing I despise, it's not getting closure from the things I require closure from, especially when it comes to people I care about. Even if it ends poorly, or if the person chooses not to make amends or be receptive, at least I know I tried. But it's when the other person refuses to so much as give a chance for me to explain, that drives me insane. And so it did.