Chapter 1 – 28 November 2008 - Craig arrives back in Dublin after the Scotland trip
"So, you've come back then, have you?" sneers JP coldly, without looking up, when he hears the front door close and footsteps enter the room. It's late afternoon, and he's lying on the couch in front of the TV in his and Craig's Dublin apartment, having a beer (his second since getting up barely half an hour earlier). He is still really angry with Craig for going to Scotland and leaving him all alone.
Five days earlier
"Where the f**k have you been?" roars Craig, as soon as he opens the front door and sees JP standing there. "And who the f**k is he?" he adds angrily, on seeing that JP is not alone.
For sheer spite (things have gotten that bad), JP refuses to explain either about where he's been since the previous evening, or about the guy who appears to be with him; he simply walks past Craig and into the appartment without a word.
"JP," shouts Craig chasing after him, "don't you f**king walk away from me. Just because you're having a hard time doesn't mean you get to treat me like a doormat, you pr*ck." He grabs JP firmly by the arm. As he spins around, JP plants the flat of his palm against Craig's chest and pins him up against the wall, and then slowly his hand slides up until he has Craig by the throat. In that moment, as they stare at each other with thundering looks, all JP wants to do is tighten his grip on Craig's throat until he has squeezed the life out of him.
After what seems like an eternity, reason slowly returns, and JP becomes aware of what he's doing. He realises that Craig is trying to get his attention, to get him to release his slowly-tightening grip, and that all his anger has been replaced with fear. JP quickly releases his hold and drops his hand to his side, stepping back.
"Where have you been?" asks Craig once more, once he's got is breath back. His voice is now a lot less confrontational, and he is no longer able to make eye contact. He gently massages the red marks on his neck as he waits for an answer.
JP just shrugs, giving the impression he feels the question is hardly worth a response. What he really wants to do is throw his arms around Craig and beg for his forgiveness, but he doesn't, he can't. He is horrified by what he has just done, but he doesn't know how to communicate this to Craig – he can't apologise, because then he would have to try to explain what's going on in his head, which is totally beyond him; and guarantee it won't happen again, which is something he can't do. He has never in his life felt so unsure of himself.
In the past, he and Craig have always had a passionate relationship, and things have often become heated between them; but JP knows it's different this time, more unequal. It hits him forcefully that he has actually reached the stage where he might really hurt Craig, if he doesn't get a grip. He wonders, not for the first time, how things have come to this. Barely two months ago, his dearest wish had come true. Living in Dublin with Craig turned out to be just as he'd always imagined in his most self-indulgent daydreams: they fit together perfectly. He'd managed to transfer his degree to Trinity, and both he and Craig went there together each day. It was like being back in Hollyoaks High, except that they didn't need to hide who they were, and there were no pesky females getting in the way. It was a very simple life, but they were so happy in their little routine' just being together, even if it was on a budget. He'd managed to get a part-time DJing gig in a really great club, and everyone was very nice to him. He remembered thinking more than once that it was almost too good to be true, which of course it turned out to be. Just four short blissful weeks after they arrived he got the call from Niall, which turned his life into this living nightmare.
"I tried to call you this morning." Craig continues desperately, realising JP has drifted away from him again. "Your phone was answered by some kids who told me you were dead." He feels his voice rising emotionally, but can't help it. "They told me they'd found you lying out the back of the club with your head split open. I couldn't be sure they were lying. You've been so reckless recently ... I couldn't get hold of you … I was so scared," he concludes tearfully.
"Maybe it would've been better if I had died," replies JP miserably.
At this point, the 'discussion' abruptly ends. Craig goes as white as a sheet, before turning on his heal and quickly walking into their bedroom. A few minutes later he comes out with a rucksack, and without a word walks straight past JP and the guy (who is desperately trying to avoid being noticed, whilst at the same time not missing a thing), and out the door.
"My jacket got nicked – it had my phone, wallet and keys in it - that's why I couldn't call him," says JP huskily, the vivid blue of his eyes betraying his anguish at Craig's sudden departure.
"Right, sure that's an awful shame," replies the guy awkwardly – he decides against offering his opinion that every man and his dog has a phone these days, if you really needed to make a call … "So, um, can you show me where the meter is?" he asks instead.
Until he receives a short text from him the next day saying: "Going to Scotland with Steph and Tom for a few days," JP doesn't know if Craig is ever going to come back to him.
