It's been rough on everyone. It's the one battle that we have to win, but it's also the one battle that we don't stand a chance in. It's never been this way before. Even when the going got tough, I knew that Harvey could fix it. Harvey always fixed it. This time, I'm afraid to admit, is different. We're guilty. We know it. We can't fix it. But I'm beside him, because he's going to try either way and I'm not going to let him go it alone. I owe him more than that. I respect him more than that. Even now, I know I'm selling it short because I love him more than that – but obviously I left that part out. I told him he has my loyalty. He doesn't need to know all of the reasons why. Love is meant to be beautiful, but this would just break him. My beautiful disaster. My masterpiece. And my unraveling.

It's not easy. We've been sitting here, on the couch in his living room, scotch in hand, staring at the wall for hours. We'd gone through six joints before we ran out. His hair was a mess, eyes red – whether or not it's from the weed, the exhaustion, or some emotion I'm afraid to see, I'm not sure – and his suit is wrinkled from the day's events. He is not looking good. Well, that's up to interpretation anyway. See, he's beautiful to me no matter how broken he looks. There's something poetic about it that draws me in, although it scares the hell out of me. If I could take that sheer pain out of his eyes and get rid of it forever, I would, no matter what it cost me. I've never seen such pure sadness on someone before. I don't want to ever have to see it again. Especially on him.

I think he's conceded to my being here now, finally. It was tough getting to this point though, where he'd at least let me sit beside him. When I'd first arrived at his door, he'd already been drinking. It was immediately clear that I was not a welcome guest, even though none of this was my fault. I knew he was just trying to protect himself. 'Never let them see you cry' and all that. He knew he was breaking and he wanted to make sure no one was around to see. I had other ideas though. He tried everything. He yelled at me. Insulted me. Shot down everything we had and tried to ruin us to get me to leave, but I didn't take a single step.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He said sardonically when he opened the door to his condo. I didn't answer; I just stepped around him inside, and threw my jacket into the corner. I was almost surprised that he didn't scold me for it. I knew something was coming though, and I knew it would be bad. But I stood there and watched him, waiting, letting him make the first move. I can hold my breath. "Get out." He growled, fist fight on the doorknob as he glared daggers into me. I shook my head, pursing my lips. He then made the most threatening sound I'd ever heard and stalked up to me, fists at his sides, until his face was inches from mine. "I don't want you here, Mike. Get. The hell. Out."

"I brought a piece offering," I offered, taking a small baggy out of my pocket. He looked at it once, and then his eyes grew darker yet and he snarled. I can't lie, I was scared beyond imagine. I've seen what he can do.

"Did you get that from Trevor?" He spat, grabbing the weed from my hand and tossing it to the ground. "You talking to him again? I thought I made it clear that you are not to speak with him? I knew you were a dumbass, Mike; I never thought you'd betray me again." The words hurt, and I went to retort, butI can bite my tongue. He's just fishing for ways to make me angry enough that I'll leave. Well, I'm not going to. "You're a disappointment." As much as I knew he was just mad, it still hurt. I kept the emotion off my face though. Just like he taught me. "You're a disappointment to me, to Donna, to Jessica, to everyone. Damn it, Mike, what relationships haven't you killed? You cheated on Jenny, you lied to Rachel, you ditched Trevor for some guy you barely knew," he was just throwing words around. I kept telling myself that. He was contradicting himself. "You can't get anything right! Including me! Just get out!"

I shrugged, turning away from him and heading over to the kitchen. I could feel his stare burning into me from the doorway, but I did my best to ignore it. I grabbed a glass, and poured myself a generous amount of the scotch he already had out; bottle half empty. I'd only sat there for a couple minutes, sipping gingerly at the auburn liquid before I heard the door close and the lock click shut. I'd won the first round. I knew better than to look at him when he reclaimed his seat and – with a huff – picked up his own glass and downed it before refilling.

"Aren't you tired after today?" His voice sounded strained, as if he were forcing words to come out of his mouth. Did he feel guilty?

"I can stay awake for days," If that's what you want...

He nodded, not questioning me further. I felt hope when he pushed the bottle towards me after I'd finished my glass. Maybe I could get somewhere with him... At least he wasn't attacking me anymore. It didn't matter. When all this is over, I'll be glad I suffered through. I'll still be your number one. Whether he knew it or not. I didn't mean it lightly when I said I love him. I do. And I'll stick by him 'til the end, whether he loves me or hates me or whatever in between.