"Kyree..." a soft voice cooed in the demon's ear, half rousing him from his broken slumber, "Ky, wake up," he knew that voice, yet couldn't quite place it. His head felt heavy, fuzzy like it was stuffed with cotton wool, still aching as much as it had been when he drifted out of consciousness God knows how long ago.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to focus when he opened them, the dim light making it very difficult to see who was leaning over him. It was a man, not much older than him, with a black eye and bust lip. His heart skipped a beat when realisation hit.

"Ambrose, you're alive," Kyree wrapped his arms tightly around Ambrose's waist, inhaling his scent as he thanked every God he had ever heard of. Ambrose chuckled, running one hand through Kyree's matted locks, rubbing Kyree's back with the other. Abruptly, Kyree pulled away, backing up as far from Ambrose as he could without falling off his bed.

"You can't be here, you can't be near me," Kyree's speech was slurred, probably from the risky mixing of alcohol and whatever else he took the night before, "I hurt you, you need to stay away from me," Kyree's gaze flickered over the cuts and bruises on Ambrose's face, knowing he did that to someone who was only trying to help him simply fueled the self-pity consuming him.

"I deserved it," Ambrose said with a shrug, perching on the edge of the bed, "I pushed you too far too early. We barely know each other and I shouldn't have assumed taking you there would help. I'm sorry," Kyree shook his head, his brows furrowed into a frown as he averted his gaze to his bloodied knuckles.

"Don't apologise, I'm clearly a danger to everyone, I can't control myself anymore. I should just kill myself, it would be safer for everyone," Kyree mumbled, rubbing his aching skull.

"Don't you dare say that. Killing yourself would break your family, and me," Kyree's eyes shot up to meet Ambrose's, "yes, I said it, your death would hurt me. There's nothing wrong with you, you just have a lot of emotions you haven't been dealing with very well. I want to help you with that," Kyree stared at Ambrose in disbelief.

"I could have killed you," Kyree admitted, "I thought I had killed you, you owe me nothing. Nothing but an execution," Ambrose scoffed, shaking his head and sliding close to Kyree on the bed, who backed tighter against the wall.

"You need help, Ky, not any more death. Let me help you," Ambrose rested his hand over Kyree's, a compassionate smile on his lips.

"Why?" Kyree uttered so softly he wasn't even sure if Ambrose heard him, "why offer help to me? I'm nothing," Ambrose sighed, absently tracing his fingertips over the back of Kyree's hand.

"Because I like you," Kyree's frown deepened so Ambrose continued, "I've been struggling with my feelings for you since our night together. I've not felt so alive like I did that night with you in a long time. I like you, Kyree Landon," Kyree's mind couldn't quite grasp that concept. Someone liking him? He knew it wouldn't work, he knew the ability to love had been burnt out of him when he lost Alexander. Yet that didn't stop him from wanting a relationship and commitment to one man more than anything else in the world.

"I-I can't, you can't. I'll hurt you. People close to me die," Kyree's voice shook as tears, once again, welled in his eyes.

"Ky, I understand Alexander's death hurt you deeply. But you can't live forever grieving someone who isn't coming back. You have to move on with your life, even if you don't share the feelings I have for you, at least let me help you get better so that someone can make you as happy again as you once were," the grey-blue iris' of Ambrose's eyes captivated so many emotions Kyree couldn't pick one out to focus on. He didn't fully understand his own feelings for Ambrose, he had lost faith in love so long ago he couldn't recall what it felt like to have feelings for someone. Whilst he mulled it over, he had to change the subject.

"What about your fiance?" Kyree asked softly, staring at Ambrose's hand over his.

"I may have embellished on my feelings for him. I don't love him, he has been a close friend of mine for many years, but we're not in love. My father and his thought it would be a good partnership, despite my fiance not being gay. They didn't care. We agreed, out of pure friendship, when we should have stood up to our fathers," the two men remained silent for a short while, Kyree absorbing all Ambrose had confided, Ambrose awaiting Kyree's judgement on the situation.

"I..." Kyree paused, the words in full sentences in his mind but falling apart when they hit his lips, "I don't know how to love," he whispered, each word said slowly and with so much empathy Ambrose's heart felt as though it might rip in two.

"So we don't start with that. We start with something you know how to do. I'm not asking you to marry me, Ky, I just want to help you first. We can figure out whatever is between us when you're better, OK?" Kyree didn't think it was fair for Ambrose to put himself through this, getting over Alexander would be difficult and he knew it. Yet, he knew he did feel something for Ambrose, even it was only respect and admiration for his sensitivity and patience. He wanted to know him, wanted to grow closer. And if that meant he had to go through the long process of overcoming Alexander's passing, so be it.

"OK," Kyree agreed, dragging his hand through his tangled brunette locks.

"Good," Ambrose rose to his feet, "now go take a cold shower," Ambrose chuckled at Kyree's cocked eyebrow, "you smell like a liquor store, I don't think your parents would appreciate seeing you this way," Ambrose's gaze drifted to Kyree's bare chest as they both stood simultaneously, appreciating his defined muscles.

"Will you be joining me?" Kyree offered, making Ambrose smile as his confident personality seemed to return. Sex was something Kyree had used to drown out the sadness, it was the only thing he truly felt he was good at with another man.

"I don't think a cold shower would be very productive if I was in there with you. You need to sober up," Kyree pouted, but understood Ambrose's point and left to go take that shower.

When Kyree returned, only adorning a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, wet hair dripping onto the carpet, he knew what the book was that Ambrose was holding.

"That the photo album you found in the guest room?" Kyree asked, dropping the towel to the ground as he wandered over to his wardrobe. He didn't care about Ambrose saw him naked, he had already fucked him, there wasn't really much else he hadn't seen.

"Yes," Ambrose replied, his eyes roaming the back of Kyree's bare figure as he dressed.

"Bottom drawer, black book, that's where the rest of the pictures are," Kyree murmured, tugging a black t-shirt on. When he turned back, Ambrose was flicking through the little black book he had kept hidden for so many years. Kyree sat next to him, stopping him on a picture of Alexander laid in bed holding out his hand to the camera with a smirk on his face. Kyree had forgotten how beautiful he was, his pale skin dotted with freckles and sandy brown hair a mess atop his head.

"That was our 20 year anniversary, we went skiing in the Alps," Kyree smiled, not feeling all that sad at remembering the happy times with Alexander. Ambrose flicked to a picture of Alexander sat next to a campfire, sticking his tongue out at the camera.

"One of our first dates as a couple, we went camping in the Tongass National Forest in Alaska. We didn't sleep there though, Alex thought he heard a bear so we left because he was too scared," Kyree actually laughed, only for a second, and very soft, but Ambrose heard that laugh and continued to another photograph. Kyree was down on one knee, with Alexander covering his mouth, they looked to be on a beach somewhere.

"Some coast in Italy, the day I proposed," Ambrose detected the sadness growing in Kyree's voice and decided to shut the album, placing it back in the drawer where he had found it.

"How have you been dealing with your grief?" Ambrose queried, turning so he could face Kyree easier.

"I met you when I was 'dealing with my grief'," Kyree smiled weakly, a little embarrassed.

"Well no wonder your feelings are all messed up, you've taught yourself to associate sadness with the need for intimacy," Ambrose's tone wasn't mocking, which surprised Kyree somewhat. He wasn't judging him for his unhealthy obsessions like so many others did.

"I don't know how to else to deal with it. Something reminds me of Alex, then all the grief comes back and I go up to the human world to search for comfort, I don't know what else to do," Kyree had never opened up to anyone about his issues, it felt odd.

"How long have you been doing this?" Kyree bit his lip, looking away before responding.

"Since a couple weeks after his death. I started off doing it every couple of months, it was more difficult then with the high security keeping us out of the human world. Recently I've gotten to doing it almost every night," Kyree couldn't bear to look Ambrose in the eye, ashamed of his actions. He was basically a free male prostitute.

"Kyree, it's understandable, you have an addiction. With every fix, or in your case with every fuck, the euphoria lasts for a little less time. It's gonna be difficult to wean you off of it but it will happen. Until then, I'm your bed buddy," Kyree watched as Ambrose stripped down to his boxers and slid under the covers, "you crave comfort when you're low, sleeping in the same bed as someone will help with that," Ambrose had that same smirk on his lips as the first night Kyree had met him, a smirk he could not say no to. Kyree stood, removing the clothes he had only put on a few minutes ago and got into bed with Ambrose.

Kyree felt a little awkward, he had never just slept with another man in bed, not without fucking first anyway. Not since Alexander was alive. He didn't really know where to lay, how close he should be, anything.

"Come here," Ambrose patted his chest when he noticed Kyree looking a little overwhelmed, "I won't bite," Kyree rested his head on Ambrose's chest, fidgeting for a few seconds before finally settling in a comfortable position. Sleep was imminent, and so wonderful when held in someone's arms.