Summary:

“I did something stupid,” Shane confesses, inhaling rapidly. He's still crying, still frozen in the doorway, besides his hitching chest and watering eyes. Hayden's never seen him like this, overtaken with emotion, bitter exhaustion in his voice. He makes a soft choked noise, and Hayden immediately wants to kill something, whatever it is that's making him feel so awful. “I—Hayds—you're gonna hate me—”

“No,” Hayden says before he can even finish the thought, almost hurt by the accusation. “No way. You're—I wouldn't. I won't.”

Shane sniffs, offering him a sad smile, his eyes watery and solemn. It's an unfamiliar look, burnt through with sorrow and twisting doubt, sharp worry in the furrow of his brow. “You are,” he says, soft and certain. “I do, and I'm the one who's doing it.”

OR: Shane returns to the hotel room, post-tuna melt. Hayden spirals.