Shawn could tell his outburst was making the detective uncomfortable, so he quickly wiped his tears with the heels of his hands and sniffled. Maybe fleeing his father's house to avoid seeing Gus, to avoid another confrontation and the struggle to understand his actions, which he failed to understand himself, hadn't exactly been the best idea. At least, not in running to this place. Why did it seem like he was doomed to be attracted to a man he aggravated, annoyed, and angered with his sheer existence? Or at least, so it seemed. Why did his heart want the one person he was never going to have?

I wish I had succeeded. The thought whispered from the darkness swirling around in his skull. Maybe I'm a lost cause.

"Spencer."

"I'm sorry," Shawn quickly blurted out, ready to push himself up and flee yet again. "I'll just be-"

"Stop." What might have once been spoken vehemently during a crime scene or while at the precinct was now uttered from the lungs of a man who sounded...tried. It was enough to get him to do exactly as Lassiter wished. He stopped, frozen in place. He waited, wondering what came next. Lassiter sighed, sagging against the porch railing. He rubbed a hand over his face and around to the back of his neck. "Please stop."

A beat passed.

"Okay," he said, unsure of what exactly Lassiter wanted of him. Then again, he didn't exactly know what he wanted of himself. A moment of clouded judgment, a mistake that forever altered the course of his life, brought him, them to this point. And had it accomplished anything? Had it solved the brokenness inside of him? Had it brought him any closer to not only living his truth, but to getting the one thing he desired above everything else? How could he have foolishly let it come to this, to falling head over heels for someone who'd never see him in the same light?

Moron.

It fit him perfectly.

"You scared Gus," Lassiter said, not bothering to even glance in his direction. The detective stood with his arms crossed over his chest. "He came to the crime scene O'Hara and I were working, all hyped up with concern for you. Right now he's out with your dad driving around Santa Barbara looking for you. I should probably let them know I found you." The last statement came out quietly, an afterthought, but he made no attempt to reach for his phone and make it a reality. "And when I should be helping my partner figure out who murdered some guy in his living room, I'm standing here with you instead."

Was it Lassiter's intention to bury him in guilt, because it was working. Where could he find the rewind button to.go back to that pivatol moment when he grabbed the knife and... Shawn closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. This was his life now, his reality, the bed he'd made and now has to lie in. He'd been through a number of messes in the last few years, everything from being run off the road on his motorcycle to facing down a serial killer who targeted the people he loved. And here he sat like some forlorn puppy dog or something, unable to pull himself up by his boot straps.

Maybe it was time out on his big boy pants, face the consequences of his foolish actions, whatever they might be, and try to get back to a normal life.

But normal, at least as he knew it, was long gone. It was plan as day to see that he'd directly affected his friendships. There was now a new element, one that would undoubtedly crop up whenever he experienced a rough day or showed any signs of being down. They'd all be wondering if he planned to try again.

Shawn stole a sideways glance at Lassiter.

And talk about screwing that up the most. What good came of his declaration of love? If, and that was a fairly strong if, Lassiter exhibited any signs of reciprocation there would be the constant question, an underlying worry that he only did so out of duress. So even the one thing Shawn expected to make him happy would leave him with a lingering unhappiness.

"I should go," Shawn finally said. "I shouldnt be taking up your time. You jave important matters to attend to and it's selfish of me to monopolize your time." He got to his feet, surprised to find he could stand steadily. Maybe he was getting back some of his strength, his resolve. Maybe.

Lassiter laughed, a hearty chuckle that left Shawn with eyebrows raised and an icky feeling in his stomach. Laughter, what kind of reaction was that?

"That's rich, Spencer," he said. "Now, of all times, you worry about monoplozing my time. Never before in all the years we've worked together has it ever been a problem for you. Hell, I often figured you enjoyed frustrating me, upstaging me, and genrally making me look like a hot-headed fool while trying to do my job. But now, now you're concerned with using my time."

Shawn curled his hands into fists, clenching his jaw. "Clearly, coming here was the wrong thing to do."

Of course, the only way off the porch, just short of jumping the railing into some bushes, was to walk passed Lassiter. Which meant being within very close proximity of the man he adored. Or adored. Somehow I have got to stop wanting him. I never should have let these feelings take hold. Never should have let them dig roots into my heart. And perhaps it's time I consider leaving Santa Barbara. Again.

Back ramrod straight, his intention clear as day, Shawn steuck across the porch, doing his damnedest to avoid even looking at Lassiter. And there's a chance it might have wroked, that he might have gotten free of the porch and started for home, but when he went to take the first step down, his sneakered foot literally hanging in the air, Lassiter, who'd fallen quiet, reached out, stopping Shawn in his path with an arm stretched out in front of him.

"Where do you think you're going?"