#eepy....

The empty wine bottle hit the floor with a resounding clatter and rolled out of sight. Rowan buried his face in his hands, choking back an ugly sob. He shook with the strain of trying to keep himself together in the face of the terrible grief that was taking him apart bit by bit, ripping down his resolve like paper. It didn't matter that he was alone; he couldn't let himself crumble. What if he couldn't put himself back together? What if something happened and he wasn't strong enough to face it and somebody else died? Maker, what would he do? This time, he couldn't stifle the agonized groan that tore its way from his throat. His fingers tangled in his hair; for once, it was hanging loose around his face. His head spun. When had that happened?

So absorbed in his struggle against total collapse was he, that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps until the wine bottle was sent rolling loudly back towards him, followed by a surprised grunt. The sudden noise startled him and his head shot up to see Fenris in the doorway, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"Ah. If this isn't a good time, I can– oh." Fenris' eyes met his, and Rowan saw concern spark in them the second Fenris saw his face. He felt sick. Now he'd done it. Fenris wasn't supposed to be worried for him. Nobody was, but especially not Fenris. Not after that night. Maker, he was so selfish.

"Hawke... what happened?" The unusual undertone of care in the deep rumble of his voice made Rowan's chest ache as if Fenris had reached in and took his heart in his hand. In this moment, he would almost rather he did do that. Fenris took a couple of steps forward and, to his utter horror, Rowan felt the tears he'd been fighting for so long finally overwhelm him.

As they welled in his eyes and blurred his vision to mere blotches of color, he choked out, "Maker, Fenris. I– I'm sorry. You don't– you don't have to–" and the rest of his protest was lost to the sobs that wracked his entire body. He hid his face again, hands fisted in his hair. For a while, there was silence; presumably because Fenris was at a complete loss, which did nothing to make Rowan feel any less ashamed of himself. He wished Fenris hadn't picked this exact time to show up, and he wished that he hadn't decided to stay, for the love of Andraste. He wished he'd never drunk that bottle of wine. He wished–

Something settled on his shoulder. Something warm and hesitant. He looked up, and there was Fenris, looking down at him with uncharacteristic sympathy. There was uncertainty in his face, but there was determination too. Determination to be there for him. For a moment, Rowan forgot about his guilt, forgot about the complexity of their relationship, and leaned his head against Fen's arm. Fen's eyes went round, soft around the edges with regret and an emotion Rowan couldn't name in his current state, but would come to realize later was longing.

He straightened abruptly and opened his mouth to apologize, but Fenris beat him to the punch. "You don't need to apologize; I'm not bothered." Fenris took a quiet, steadying breath. Rowan could feel his hand flex against his shoulder. "Is this about your mother?" he asked, and before Rowan could try and duck the question, he continued. "I'm here to listen. You aren't under any obligation to talk to me, but perhaps it would do you some good. You do too much, Hawke, and expect too little in return."

That certainly gave him something to think about. What was left of the sober part of his mind was screaming at him not to needlessly burden Fenris by letting him see how badly he was really struggling, but between the alcohol and the intoxicating comfort of Fenris' presence, the part that wanted him to spill his guts won out.

"It's everything." Rowan confessed in a voice barely above a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut. Hung his head. "Fenris, it's everything. I'm to blame for it all. I didn't do enough and they all died because of it. Because of me. Carver. Bethany. Mother. I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't good enough. Maker, I'm still not good enough. I'm sitting here, putting this all on you when you don't deserve that. You don't deserve to be weighed down by someone like me." A few seconds of silence passed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

The reassuring weight on his shoulder disappeared, and Rowan felt a kind of grim satisfaction. The loss of Fenris' touch stung terribly, leaving him off-balance and floundering, but it was for the best. He'd put too much on him and this was exactly what he deserved.

The feeling of Fenris' hand gently coming to rest on his cheek sent a jolt through him so intense, he could've slapped him instead and it wouldn't have taken his breath away like this. The hand on his cheek inched down to catch under the edge of his jaw, guiding his head up so his eyes locked with Fenris'. He held Rowan's gaze unflinchingly, earnest affection and understanding etched into every inch of his expression.