Everybody Hurts Sometimes
Exhausted, Craig twisted the key in the lock, before pushing the door open with his shoulder. Taking a deep breath he entered the flat, unsure what his reception was going to be. He had called John Paul from the airport to say what time he would be back but whether he would be here waiting for him was anyone's guess, although if the last month was anything to go by...probably not. Suddenly, the lateness of the hour and his growing sense of despair seemed to make all his aches and pains seem ten times worse, and the padded dressing on his cheek now seemed to irritate more than give comfort to the broken skin beneath.
The flat was in darkness and the silence that greeted him seemed to tell its own story. Sighing, he dropped his bag on the floor as he let the door close behind him. Leaning back against the solid wooden panel he closed his eyes in defeat. Whether John Paul was asleep or had just not bothered to come back in yet, hardly seemed to matter, what screamed out to him was that for whatever reason he just wasn't where he needed him to be right now.
Feeling empty, he let his mind drift back to the phone call they had shared earlier. It had been short, slightly detached, as if neither had the energy to force the barriers that sat between them. He had been deliberately vague about his week away with Steph, wanting to share the news about Niall face to face, whilst John Paul just seemed unresponsive...distant. Rubbing his face with his hands he tried to hang on to some semblance of hope.
Hurting inside and out, he forced himself to move, being drawn to the small kitchen. Opening the fridge he pulled out the half empty carton of orange juice, needing something to take the edge off the rawness in his throat. Not bothering with a glass, he twisted off the top as he kicked the fridge door shut. Walking into the room, he allowed the shadows to sooth him as he tilted back his head to swallow greedily. The slight movement in front of him, made him choke, causing the liquid to splash down his chin, as his heart jumped.
"For fuck's sake, John Paul...you could have bloody warned me you were here."
The man who stood by the window never turned his head, didn't acknowledge the words sent his way, other than to give a slight shrug of his shoulders. His eyes continued to gaze at the lights of the city as he held on tightly to the almost empty bottle of spirits that rested against his thigh. His body slumped against the glass pane as if in need of support.
Craig let his eyes take in the room, noticing the empty cans and discarded bottles for the first time. Carefully he picked his way through the mess to go and stand at the opposite side of the window, his eyes taking in the same view as his lover. The familiar sight before him blurred as he blinked back tears.
"John Paul, we need to talk." Craig was surprised at how steady his voice sounded, not reflecting his inner turmoil. Glancing over to where the other stood, he watched sadly as the bottle John Paul held was lifted, its contents being swallowed neat, in what seemed like an act of defiance... a fuck you statement. Only then did John Paul turn to him, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot.
The lack of expression in them, made Craig want to shrivel up and die. They made him feel like he was nothing. Knowing from recent experience that any conversation right now was pointless, he went to turn away, just wanting to be somewhere where he could still pretend that he could still reach the man who held his heart. John Paul's sudden gasp held him in place as the walls that were keeping him out suddenly shattered and the blue eyes in front of him blazed with a light that was frightening in its intensity.
"What the fuck happened to you?" The words were raw, full of a desperate kind of pain, Craig could only guess at. Shakily John Paul reached a hand out towards him, to almost touch his face before he let it drop away as if afraid to make contact.
"I..." Suddenly Craig was at a loss, all his prepared explanations gone. How the hell did he answer? "John Paul, I...Shit!..." Rubbing the back of his neck, he stumbled to find a place to start. He needed to get this right. The man at his side was already near to breaking and he'd be damned if he finished what Niall had started. "It was Steph... he came after her...he..."
The body in front of him tensed, the now empty bottle crashing to the floor, as Craig suddenly found himself pushed back against the wall, his bruised ribs from where Niall's fists had connected, crying out in protest. Unable to stop himself, Craig gasped as the pain took his breath away.
If it was possible John Paul became more ashen, his skin taking on a sickly shade of grey. Without taking his eyes away from the brown ones in front of him, he began to slowly unbutton Craig's shirt, the alcohol in his system making him clumsy, his fear making him gentle. Peeling it open, he finally allowed his gaze to drop to what his shaking hands had revealed. Seeing the thin layer of white bandage which lay beneath, and looking even lower to the grazes and bruising that spread out across the skin left exposed, John Paul felt his world start to spin out of control.
Already knowing the answer deep in his soul, wanting to throw up, he still had to ask. "Who?" His voice was cloaked in fear.
Unable to drag his eyes away from John Paul's face, Craig gave him the one answer he wished with all his heart he could avoid. "Niall...It was Niall."
As if the ground beneath him had shifted, John Paul's legs buckled and he sank down to his knees, as he began to retch, his stomach finally rejecting the amount of alcohol he had consumed, just as his mind fought to reject the images which that one name could conjure. As he began to throw up, he was once again holding Keiran's lifeless body, he was once more held bound and helpless, could hear Niall's voice telling him what he'd taken from him as his head was pulled back by his hair, whispering insidiously to him what he was still going to take. He could hear the explosion, the screams, the silence... and then he was once again seeing Tina being carried from the ruins of the church, one arm hanging limply at her side. All images and sounds he lived with daily but refused to acknowledge, refused to share with the one person who was keeping him from giving up, even if he didn't realise it. Feeling Craig at his side, his hand gently rubbing his back, his body finally settled into silent sobs.
"The bastard...He wasn't ...supposed to ever...touch you." The words were whispered, meant for no-one to hear, and they made Craig want to cry with him.
His heart in pieces, Craig took John Paul in his arms, rocking him like a baby as he tried to absorb some of the pain.
"All of this..." John Paul's hands swept the room as his voice became louder, angrier, "Everything I've put us through...shutting you out...All the nights I..." Suddenly, Craig found himself pushed away, as if John Paul couldn't bear to touch him. "He wasn't supposed to...I never wanted him to get to you too. He took so much from me... I wanted to keep you separate, keep what we had away from the destruction he generated...and now... "
"John Paul, listen to me." Taking hold of the other's face, Craig held on for dear life, determined he wasn't going to lose this man now. "It's over...Niall's dead...He can't hurt you any more."
John Paul looked at him, his eyes lifeless. "It doesn't matter...I've already lost everything that mattered!"
~~Chapter 2~~
Trying to ignore the dull pounding behind his eyes and the sick feeling in the pit of the stomach, Craig made a start on cleaning up some of the mess in the room, needing something to distract him from his thoughts. Half aware of the sound of the shower being switched on he tried not to think about John Paul's final words to him moments before, or what they meant, as he scooped up some of the empty cans. But the words wouldn't go away. What the fuck did he mean he'd already lost everything that mattered? A cold fear was clawing its way through his gut. Not wanting to face it or acknowledge his growing insecurity, he tried desperately to keep a name at bay...guilt and self loathing battling with a shameful jealousy he couldn't control.
Kieran.
Cursing softly, he began to scrub the carpet where John Paul had thrown up, taking a strange comfort in doing something so mundane, at being able to focus on anything other than a growing sense of defeat. How the hell could he fight what Niall had done? How did he give back to John Paul all that had been taken from him? Again that name swam in his mind, this time bringing an image of a handsome face with it. How the fuck did you fight a ghost?
'I've already lost everything that mattered!'
Giving the carpet a final swipe, he threw the used cloth into the black bag at his side. His presence in John Paul's life didn't seem to count for much right now, despite the fact that he was still here for the taking, heart in his fucking hands. He obviously wasn't part of John Paul's 'everything that mattered'.
Ashamed of his pathetic self pity, he stood up, wincing at the pull to his aching muscles. Grabbing the bag, he tied the ends, before leaving it near the door to take out in the morning. He looked down at his watch, 2.30 am. It was only then that he realised how long John Paul was taking, that the shower was still running. He was such a selfish bastard, revelling in his own pain when the man he loved more than life itself was falling to pieces in front of him. Suddenly anxious he strode to the bathroom.
"John Paul?"
His voice tried to reach through the closed door, to be louder than the pouring water. Getting no reply he pushed against the handle hoping it wasn't locked. Feeling the door give he quietly stepped inside, unsure what he would find...unsure of his welcome.
At first he could see no sign of him, with the steam from the hot water mixing with the condensation on the glass panel of the shower cubical. It was only when he stepped closer that he saw the huddled shape, sat naked on the tiles, arms clasped round his knees as water cascaded down on his bent head.
"John Paul?"
This time, although softer, the words seemed to reach him, or maybe it was just that he sensed he was no longer alone. Slowly his head lifted and Craig found himself drowning in blue eyes. But now he almost wished the barriers were still there, that he was unable to see the soul wrenching pain, but the thought was fleeting as instinct took over. Without hesitation, he kicked off his trainers and stepped into the shower, forgetting bandages, not caring that he was fully clothed, just knowing he needed to be by John Paul's side. Sinking down he mirrored the other's position, never taking his eyes from John Paul's face. Not touching the body next to him, he let the water pour over him, blurring his vision slightly, as it plastered his hair against his head, wet the padding on his cheek, and stuck his clothes close against his body.
"You're crazy."
"I know."
John Paul let his head fall back against the wall. The slight shift in his position brought their shoulders together. It wasn't much but strangely it was enough.
Just for a while, there was that feeling of them against the world again, the old connection that they had established from the moment they had first met. Almost Craig smiled. Shit... how could he ever give up on this? John Paul wasn't just his heart, he was his whole world. Wanting to wrap him in his arms, to never let him go, he hesitated, held back, sensing a need to take this slow. Instead he gave him a soft nudge, a reminder that he wasn't in this alone.
"You thinking of staying in here all night?" The deliberately light tone failed to mask his concern.
Slowly John Paul turned his head to face him, his expression unreadable. For a while his eyes just took him in as if weighing something up. "I didn't want to be out there where you were."
And just like that, pain ripped through Craig's chest. He tried to breathe but fuck it hurt, just like the words hurt. He stiffened as the now cooling water continued to pound his body. Each drop suddenly seemed to strike his skin with force, to weigh him down. He wanted to scream, he wanted to run, he wanted to hit back...to wound like he was being wounded. Instead he did nothing...nothing but die a little more inside.
Aware that he was still being watched he refused to give into the gut wrenching despair of knowing he was losing John Paul; of somehow feeling like this was the start of a long goodbye. Instead he clung on to the remnants of his pride and refused to look away.
The feel of John Paul's fingers sneaking through his own shocked him, the grip painful, desperate. Now he did look down, wishing he felt some comfort from the gesture. But all he felt was fear.
"I don't want to be with you..." The words sounded flat. "...because I'm going to hurt you...and it's going to kill me."
Craig raised his eyes back up quickly, his breath hitching, but already John Paul was standing, moving away. Even now Craig couldn't help but take in the beauty of his body as he stepped from the shower, every inch of it as familiar to him as his own.
"But you're right, Craig...we do need to talk." Without looking back, John Paul reached for a towel, wrapping it carelessly around his hips before leaving Craig alone in the bathroom.
Still unable to move, Craig let the tears come as the temperature of water finally matched the coldness trying to invade his heart. Now it was him that wanted to hide, him that didn't want to talk. Looking down, he once again saw John Paul's fingers sliding between his own and his hand curled inwards automatically as if he could still feel them there.