Standing here I can only remember one other time that I felt so nervous, so excited and so terrified all at the same time. Only once before has my heart raced like this and that was because of him as well.

Back then I'd spent so long trying to ignore what I was feeling, trying to pretend that it wasn't real that I nearly drove myself insane. My mind was so filled with him that I ended up walking out of my exam. I know that that decision could have cost me dearly but at the time all I knew was that I had to get to him, I had to tell him before it was too late.

I'd stumbled over my words that day as I tried to explain how I felt but nothing I said came out right, finally I just showed him what I was trying to say and that kiss, as our lips touched, was so hesitant at first until we were both certain it was what we wanted and then all the passion and fire that I had been hiding exploded and I knew without a doubt that I wanted him more than anything.

Of course I messed it up. I still remember that look in his eyes when I called him a faggot, the pain glistening against the brightest blue, a pain that I've caused him so many times both before and after that day. Sometimes I wonder how he always forgave me; sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve that much love.

It's been eighteen months since I last stood in Chester. My mother begged me many times to come home. My sister phoned me on countless occasions pleading with me to visit. But it was always too soon. I hadn't been ready and I had to wait until I was, I couldn't afford to make any more mistakes.

It's been eighteen months since I last saw him. Eighteen months since he left me at the airport, since he told me that he loved me and then walked away. For a while I hated him for doing that to me but I hated him in a way you can only ever hate someone that you really love. I hated him for not being with me. I hated him for making me miss him so much. I hated him for being able to see what I couldn't.

One of the last things he ever said to me was that I didn't know who I was. It took me a long time to realise how right he was in that. I was so caught up in worrying "am I straight, am I gay" that I lost sight of what really mattered. I lost sight of him. I loved him and I wanted him and that should have been all I needed to know but when it came right down to it I was still afraid. I was afraid to be who I was and love who I loved and we both deserved better. He had the strength to walk away and although it killed me at the time in the end it made me as strong as he was. Strong enough to come back.

So little seemed to have changed as I walked back into The Dog in the Pond and the familiarity was a comfort to me. My room looked as if I had only left it that morning, despite Steph's desperation to convert it into a walk in wardrobe it had remained my room, and I think I always will, for as long as I need it, probably for longer than that knowing mum.

I smile at myself in the mirror one last time before I head downstairs. My heart is racing so fast that it amazes me it doesn't burst through my chest.

Standing here, with the door into the bar ever so slightly ajar, I can see the ebb and flow of customers as the evening crowds begin to drift in. I see many familiar faces and several new ones but I am waiting for that one, the one that I can't be without any longer.

When I first catch a glimpse of him my breath catches in my throat. He's smiling as he talks to someone that I can't quite see, but then I only have eyes for him. I hungrily devour every inch of his face with my gaze. I had forgotten just how beautiful he is. I'd forgotten the intensity inside those delicious blue eyes and the how his mouth curves softly and invitingly into that breathtaking smile. I thought that I knew how much I had missed him, how much I loved him but seeing him again magnified everything a hundred times.

For a second I almost forget myself and, as he turns to the bar I have to step back quickly so that he doesn't see me. I'm not ready for that yet. I need to calm myself. This time it has to be perfect I don't think I will get any more second chances.

He orders his drink and walks back into the centre of the room. I steady myself with a few deep breaths as I wipe the palms of my hands on my trousers; I hadn't noticed how sweaty they had become.

As I walk quietly, slowly, into the bar a few people smile at me and look as if they are about to stop me to talk but I keep moving. I have no time for anyone else, I don't care how they are or what they've been doing, and I have to get to him before I lose my nerve.

Standing behind him I feel so many things that I makes my head spin. I'm excited and afraid, hopeful and fearful, but mostly I'm in love and I have to let him know. I'm so close I can smell the familiar fragrance of his aftershave. It's one I chose for him so long ago and it makes me happy to know he still wears it, that there is still a remnant of me in his life.

I touch my hand to his shoulder. It feels warm and strong and I recall resting my head against it so many times. I say his name and it feels strangely wonderful in my mouth again after so long.

He turns and looks at me. The blue in his eyes is brighter than I ever remember and his gaze sears into my flesh. His lips mouth my name but there is no sound. His eyes are wide and unbelieving as we simply stare at each other. I see confusion in his gaze, amazement and, I hope, love.

After all my preparations the time has arrived and I hesitate, but only for a second, I might not have known who I was back then but I do now, and more than that I know what I want.

As my mouth touches his I feel my whole body tingle. I want him more than anything or anyone in my life and I'm finally not afraid to show him, to show everyone. I move closer as the pressure of my kiss increases. He's kissing me back now and I can feel how much he wants it, how much he wants me.

Suddenly he's pushing me away, holding his hands in front of him so that I can't claim him back.

"What are you doing?" It's the first words he's spoken to me and I let the sound of his voice wrap around me warmly before I answer.

"What you asked me to do eighteen months ago," I tell him, "I love you John Paul."

He's shaking his head and his eyes seem sad. This isn't the reaction I was expecting and I feel very unsure of myself.

"It's too late," he says quietly.

As he speaks he turns from me slightly and slips his arm around a dark haired man who is approaching us. The man pulls John Paul closely to him with a smile and I feel sick.

I hadn't even considered the possibility that he had moved on. It never crossed my mind that there would be someone else. I'd spent so long working out how to prove to him that I was ready that I didn't leave myself time to think about anything else. No one had told me he had someone, but why would they? No one knew of my plans.

He's looking at me with regret but he still holds tightly to that other man, that man standing in my place.

I think I say that I'm sorry; I know I stammer something as I walk away as quickly as I can without running.

Before I close the door behind me I take one last look at him. He's kissing that man now. Holding him like he used to hold me and I know that I really am too late.

My bed feels cold as I lie on it. I feel cold. All the warmth has been sapped from me and I don't know if I will ever feel it again.

My gaze lands on the photograph that I placed beside my bed earlier that day. It was taken so long ago and it reminds me of the time I was happy, the time we were happy before everything fell apart.

I throw the picture at the wall and the glass shatters into a million shimmering pieces on the carpet. For a moment I am tempted to get one of those pieces and feels its sting. Anything would be better than the pain I feel right now.

Eighteen months ago I wasn't strong enough to keep John Paul.

Now I have to decide if I'm strong enough to fight for him.

I don't know how long I lie staring at the ceiling running over and over in my head all those what ifs. What if I'd never met him, what if I'd never fallen for him, what if I'd made myself kiss him when he asked, what if I'd come home sooner?

I sigh deeply as I already know the answer to each of those questions. If I'd never met him my life would have been far emptier, if I'd never fallen for him my heart would have felt colder, if I'd made myself kiss him at the airport it would have been a lie that we would have carried to Dublin and if I'd come home sooner I still wouldn't have been ready.

I have to decide now what I do next. Do I sit here in my room mourning what I have lost or do I get back down there and hope I can remind him of what we had, of what we could have again.

I don't know how long he's been with that other guy and I don't much care. In my heart John Paul McQueen will always be mine and nothing or no one will take him from me, not without a fight.

I scrub my hands through my hair and take a few steadying breaths before I head back down. It's a busy night and I figure that if I work behind the bar I can be there as a constant reminder to him.

My mum smiles at me as I get to the bottom of the stairs.

"Alright love?" I know she's happy to have me home again and I hug her lightly.

"Why didn't you say that John Paul was seeing someone?" I try to keep the question casual but I don't think I manage to.

She shrugs. "I thought that maybe you'd…" She doesn't have to finish that sentence, I know what she had been thinking, what she had been hoping.

"It wasn't just a phase mum," I tell her, "I still love him."

"I'm sorry love, I just thought..."

"I know," I say with understanding, and I do understand. She had hoped that her "normal" straight son had come back from Ireland. Someday she will have to realise that he doesn't exist anymore.

Back in the bar the noise has increased along with the volume of the customers and it takes me a while to spot him again. He's sat at a table in the corner with his new boyfriend and I try not to notice how their fingers are entwined on the tabletop or how they are smiling at each other in that secret way that lovers have.

He gets to his feet and my heart leaps as I think he is about to leave but instead he is approaching me, well approaching the bar but I rush forward to be the one to serve him.

"Another?" I ask casually.

"Err yeah, two bottles of lager please," his tone is a little uncomfortable and for some reason that makes me glad.

"He seems nice," I say nodding towards his boyfriend.

John Paul smiles as he looks around, as smile that cuts into me but I try not to let it show. "Yeah he is."

"I'm sorry about before," it's taking all my strength not to cry, not to grab him and hold him. He shrugs off my apology as if what I had done is already forgotten. "So, does he have a name?" I don't really want to know, I don't want to see him as a real person but I can't think of anything else to say and I need to keep John Paul here with me for as long as I can.

"Yeah, he's called Alan."

I've always hated the name Alan, well when I say always I mean at least since 20 seconds ago.

"Err Craig." John Paul is looking intently at me and it makes my stomach flutter.

"Yes John Paul?"

"The drinks?"

I sigh to myself as I get the two bottles and place them on the bar. He smiles as he hand over the money and turns to leave. He paused for a second and looks back at me.

His blue eyes stare directly into my soul and for a moment we are connected again.

"It's good to see you." A simple statement but it makes me want to weep.

"You too," I reply with a crack in my voice. And then he's gone from me, gone back to the man who has replaced me.

The night gets busier and I find it harder and harder to keep watch on John Paul. After a few hours I look towards his table to find it empty. He had left and I never even noticed. I realise that winning him back isn't going to be easy. It might not even be something that I can do but I have to try. You don't find the kind of love we had every day and I don't intend to let it slip away without a fight.

I don't know where the idea came from. I don't know why I decided to do it or how he would react but before I could change my mind I was in the shop handing over the address of where I wanted my present sending.

The shop assistant didn't bat an eye that I was sending such a thing to another man and her relaxed attitude made me wonder if perhaps this wasn't as unusual as I had assumed.

"What do you want on the card?" She asked me and I stopped dead. I hadn't thought of that, what could I write that would say everything I wanted it to? Simply putting I love you or I miss you wasn't enough. I had to make him think, I had to make him care.

"D'you need a minute to decide?" I nod with gratitude.

"Could you write it out for me?" I ask suddenly. For some reason I don't want the card in my handwriting. I want him to wonder, at least for a while.

She smiles and agrees as it's hardly the first time she has had such a request. She hands me a piece of paper to write on it what I want to say and then she leave me to think as she serves another customer.

I run so many things over and over in my head as I try to choose the right words, the words that say what I feel, the words that let him know I haven't forgotten him, that I will never forget him… not for a second.

From nowhere a gently melody begins to play in my head and I smile. It's an old song that I have heard so many times over the past months. A friend at Trinity has played the CD so often that I can remember every word of every track. I remember the first time I heard the line that now echoes in my mind, how it gripped me, how I felt that is said so much more than the words, it meant so much more. And it would make him stop and wonder, it would make him have to search out their meaning for himself and hopefully he would get the same significance in them that I always had.

I scribbled the words on the paper and handed it back to the shop assistant. She raises an eyebrow as she reads it but copies the text onto the card and slips it inside the envelope.

After being assured that my gift would be delivered within the next couple of hours I return home to wait.

I lay back on my bed holding the picture of the two of us against my heart. I had cleared away the broken glass and thankfully the photograph had survived with only minor damage. His beauty was unmarked and his deep blue eyes still looked out at me with intensity.

I close my eyes and try to imagine how he will react when my gift arrives. I can picture the puzzled look in his eyes as he opens the box to reveal a single red rose. I can see the frown on his face as he reads my message "J'entend ton Coeur". I wonder what he will do then. Will he know it's from me? Will he assume it's from Alan and call him, part of me hopes that he does, that without realising it John Paul will let Alan know he's got competition. Will he look up the meaning of the words? Will he understand what I am trying to tell him? But more importantly will he care?

I didn't know that I had fallen asleep until the beeping of my phone on the bedside cabinet rouses me. I am still groggy when I reach for it and it takes a moment to focus on the screen. A text message has arrived. I hold my breath as I read the name. After eighteen month I have received my first text from him. My hand trembles as I press read. I am almost afraid to know what he has to say. Will he tell me that he loves me or will he tell me to leave him alone?

The screen is illuminated brightly as I access his message.

"Meet me. By the fountain in the village. Now."

I don't know what to make of that message. I remember when he used to end his texts with kisses and with "I love you". But those were messages from another lifetime, we aren't those people anymore and I can't help but wonder if that's a good thing or not.

He wants to see me. I have to smile at that, I have to hope it's because he still has feelings for me, I have to pray that it isn't so he can tell me to stay away.

I slip on my jacket and head into the village. My heart is racing as I approach the fountain and I see that he is already there. I stop for a second to look at him. He doesn't know I'm there yet and his head hangs down as he turns a piece of card over and over in his hands. I can't see his face from this angle and I don't know if he is smiling or angry. I feel afraid to approach and I almost turn and run.

He seems to know that I'm there because he turns at looks at me. His eyes are dark and they cut into me. He doesn't greet me with a smile and I feel lost. I know with a terrible certainty that he doesn't want me anymore and I can feel my heart breaking as I move to sit beside him. I brace myself for our final goodbye and wait for him to speak.

He holds out the card to me, it's the one that I sent with the rose. There is pain and confusion in his eyes as he says one word.

"Why?"