"I didn't ask who you had sex with, but you almost did with him," he said dryly, looking back for a minute. He turned again before he spoke, rubbing his eyes. "I think you want the wanker more, at least physically." They had been together and happy or so he thought, and how happy could they have been really.
"I left. That bag is what little they let me take. Don't worry, I won't be staying. I'm not going back. I decided somewhere along the way that they pick at everything I do. I am never good enough and not what they want. They hold me to standards that I can't measure up to, and they don't forgive. I'm done." He sighed, talking to the wall. He would rather feel Lori, his Lori, and he needed him, but that part of them that was sweet and innocent, and connected - where was that. Trust.
"I want to forgive you, but it's hard. None of them forgave me. That's a pretty wide spectrum too. They all have all their opinions, most of which aren't even close. Your little friend is no exception. Did you defend me - no. He told me what you wanted at the bar. You never stopped wanting him." He looked back for a minute again. He did want to forgive him and to feel him there. He wanted to feel wanted and loved and just didn't.
"I want you with me but don't say anything," he said. "They will want a picture, and it will be together."