| Kathillian
Cillian's nervous, and he can't pinpoint exactly why. It's a lot of things put together, he thinks. And it's stressing him out enough that he's been pulled up in front of Kathy's house, car off, head against the steering wheel, trying not to hyperventilate, for the past ten minutes.
He's narrowed it down to three main problems.
Number one: He's changed, and he knows that. And despite his earlier claims, he's not necessarily sure that it's a good thing. The idea of Kathy not liking who he is anymore terrifies him, because he'd had a hard time believing that she'd found some redeeming quality in the pile of crap that is him even before he turned into a self-proclaimed asshole.
Number two: What if she's changed? Their relationship had been--in his mind, at least--fragile before he'd left. If he's changed, and she's changed, what if it doesn't work anymore? What if she realizes that it never did?
Number three: He's been gone for a while, and Kathy isn't exactly unattractive, and--as much as he desperately wants to trust her--he can't possible imagine her waiting around for some fuck-up like him.
It takes an additional five minutes to decide that it's all really just one big fear: I'm not good enough for her, I never have been, and this might be the moment that she notices--or the moment that he finds out she already has.
It takes him another three to slow his breathing down, grab the now lukewarm pizza from beside him, and walk up to her front door. It feels like he's walking to the gallows. He knocks once, hesitantly, then adds another two for good measure.