He was stupid. Completely and utterly. What had brought it all down? His own fear of commitment. He convinced himself that he wasn't ready for a real relationship as though his former boyfriend wasn't the best damn thing that had ever happened to him. He'd gone from peaceful nights with him curled up in his arms, watching the steady rise and fall of his breath, to hardly being able to get to sleep at all. Every night seemed to stretch on for an eternity, with a palpable sense that a warmth was so clearly missing from beside him in the bed.

Swiss couldn't even claim that it had been for his own good. Their connection had been perfectly healthy, it had just developed so fast that it frightened Swiss. He was the guy who fucked around, who infamously didn't settle down. Of course, instead of confronting those feelings, he shoved them down and convinced himself that they didn't exist at all - muttered some half-assed excuse about not feeling a romantic bond as if he didn't look at him like he held up the stars themselves.

Tonight was particularly bad. It was nearing midnight and he'd done nothing but toss, turn and sigh as if the universe had cursed him. And it was all his own doing. When he'd finally fallen asleep for a precious few hours, he'd been greeted with nightmare after nightmare. The Ministry tumbling down. Religious exorcisms to send him back to hell. It left him sweaty and shivering, conscious of the emptiness of his room.