The next morning found Damian's baby blue jag drifting down a London sidestreet. The man was looking fairly melancholy that day, and some serious stubble was starting to come in. He was driving at a slow, dragging pace, when suddenly he caught sight 0f a familiar reporter walking down the street.
He rolled down the window. "Oy, Henry!"
Henry stopped and looked at him. "Morning." He said, nonchalantly.
Damian poked his head out the window and gave his friend a once-over. "You look pretty bad, man."
Eye roll. "Thanks."
A hint of a smile touched Henry's lips. "Nope, but I won't have that problem for very long."
The actor's eyes widened. "Back to the states already?"
This time, Henry legitimately chuckled. "I wish, man..." He ruffled the back of his hair, like a kid from a boy band, and sighed. "I'm just finding a new place. I can't even think of living in a place like this anymore."
"I hear you." Damian took a breath. "Hey, what happened last night after I left?" He felt his heart shrink a bit - prepping for a bad answer.
Henry immediately looked at his shoes. "You're clogging up traffic, Damian."
Shit, shit, shit. "So I am. Ciao bello, man." He started to head off, but then squealed to a stop. "Let me know if you need help with your house-hunting. I know people."
The reporter waved him off, once again nonchalantly, and walked off.
The remainder of the drive passed with Damian's head bouncing back and forth. He needed to get to Arriane's house right away. The absolute guilt that was knotting up in his chest wasn't going away, and even a fake loser like himself knew that you had to admit you were wrong at one point.
As he pulled into the driveway, he began to chuckle uncontrollably at a familiar perspective that was resurfacing - one that he thought he left behind in high school. As he knocked on the door, it was quite clear in his mind: There is no worse feeling in the world than knowing someone you care about is hurt. Especially when there's nothing you can do about it.
At least this time, I can do something about it. He thought, as the doorknob turned.
Arriane opened the door, and looked at him. Almost as if she didn't know what to think. To be honest, Damian didn't know what she was supposed to think about him. All he knew was what he had to say.
"I'm sorry." He said.
And the guilt in his chest finally worked its way out.