In the picture, they looked happy.

Doug ran his finger over the smiling faces. He had just been helping Myra McQueen sort through some old boxes, a project for which he had volunteered. That he had happened to find the ones filled with pictures of John Paul's teenage years was just a coincidence.

Yeah right.

Myra entered, a box lodged securely under one arm. She noticed the look on his face and came to look over his shoulder. Doug kept his eyes on the picture. John Paul looked so young, so happy, next to the dark haired, smiling stranger. They had their arms around each other's waists, their shoulders gently touching in the casual touch of prolonged intimacy.

"He really loved him, didn't he? Craig." Myra looked at him with warm understanding, then down at the picture.

"Oh honey, that isn't Craig. That's Kieron," Myra looked at the picture, her face clouding over a moment. She took the photo from his fingers and placed it carefully on the table, then lowered the box beside it.

Doug had spread pictures out on the table, with the half-formed excuse that he planned sort them by some as yet undetermined criteria. But no excuses were needed. Myra fanned through the pictures with the tips of her fingers. Doug watched as smiling pictures of John Paul, in school uniform, in light pastels, at a turntable and playing guitars, flipped across the table.

"You want to see Craig," she said, looking up. Doug nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Myra turned back to the pictures, deftly sorting through the memories. Eventually she selected one. She stood for a moment, holding the picture, looking at Doug.

"Is that him?" Doug made a grab for the photo. "Come on, Myra. The anticipation is killing me."

"How much do you know, about Craig?"

"I know John Paul was in love with him," Doug said.

"Do you know that Craig was with a girl named Sarah Barnes? Even after he and John Paul got together, for a long time? A very long time."

"No," Doug said, dropping his hand. Myra's heavy expression was not matching his light tone. He had known John Paul met Craig in high school, had known they were friends before they started dating. He had expected the regular tragedies of young romance, but he had never suspected something like this. "I didn't know."

Myra handed him the picture. In it were three people. On one side was John Paul, young and smiling in school uniform. On the other, a pretty girl with dark fair and a sparkling smile. And between them, a dark haired boy with delicate features and a promising smile. Doug's heart began to beat.

"That's him?"

Myra nodded. She exuded the warmth of a mother, the nurturing sadness of a mother who tries to ease difficult problems away from her children only to see them take those problems onto their shoulders. Doug looked back at Craig. He, like John Paul, would be older now. In the picture he looked at ease. His smile was warm, endearing, really, and Doug would imagine those lips quirking as they leaned towards John Paul for a kiss. Could imagine those arms, fit and tanned, pressed against John Paul's pale skin…

But it was all imagination. Nothing about the picture suggested a romantic relationship between the two boys. Indeed, Craig had his arm around the girl – Sarah – and had tilted his head slightly towards her. Doug's eyes soften as he looked at John Paul's face. There, in the eyes, he imagined he could see it. In the tilt of his body, in the way his knee brushed ever so slightly against Craig's. The devotion, the love that had been in his voice when he said it. His name is Craig.

"You really serious about him? About John Paul?"

Doug nodded. Myra gave him one more, steady look.

"Then I want you to come with me."

The pictures were left on the table. They went up the stairs. He was led to the end of a hall, then through a blue painted door. When the door closed, Doug realized they had entered John Paul's old room. Posters lined the walls, a clock and the debris of young life lining the surfaces in the room. Myra walked through, kneeling down and retrieving a box from beneath the bed.

"Come now Doug," Doug went and knelt obediently next to Myra, giving himself only a moment to register that here is was kneeling next to John Paul's bed – his bed – next to John Paul's mother. "He doesn't know I know about this. But I am going to show you."

Myra took the lid off the box. Peeking over the rim, Doug could see inside a jumble of papers, trinkets, and a single picture. Sheets covered in tight writing, scraps with one or two words. He reached for the picture. Myra did not stop him, and he found himself holding an image of John Paul and Craig. Craig was in the front, as though ready to burst from the frame, his face laughing, joyful, restraint dropped away. Behind him John Paul, eyes fixed on Craig's face. Doug's own eyes were drawn towards the area where John Paul gripped Craig's arm, an easy, possessive gesture.

"Why are you showing me these? This, it's private," Doug realized his hand holding the photo was shaking slightly, which was ridiculous, but he could not stop the tremors. "I know I have some things in shoeboxes under my bed I would not want explored."

Doug placed the picture back in the box, with effort.

"You know the first thing John Paul did when he got home? As soon as he got a chance? It was come up here, and look in this box. And it is not good for him, Doug."

"He just had a break up. It's understandable he would want to remember the good times."

Myra didn't say a word. She just pressed a paper into his hand. Despite himself, Dough looked down at the words, drawn in by the first lines.

Craig,

I don't know how to begin it. I know you will be angry I ever gave this to you. If I give this to you. The more I write, the more I see how unlikely that it is. This letter will probably go in the box, with all the others. But I will write it all the same.

I need to tell you that you hurt me today. When you went with Sarah, I was hurt. It has been months now that you have said you would end it. I have waited for you to end it, and each time we come close, you pull away. I understand you are scared. I know now I won't give you this letter, as I wrote scared. But that is all it is. I wish I could tell you I will drop you if you don't leave Sarah. But I can't. I know because I have tried it before.

When you hold me, when you kiss me, when we are together, I fell then that you love me. I know that is real. It has to be real.

So I will wait. Until I cannot wait any longer.

I wish I knew when that would be.

John Paul

Doug let out a breath he had not known he had been holding.

"There are many more, like that."

"Jesus."

Doug looked at the bed, the walls, the posters and books. John Paul had probably written this letter in this room. Perhaps on that bed. Sad, alone, abandoned. Had he ever told Craig of the pain he had captured on those papers? Doug tried to imagine asking John Paul about it, and let out a laugh that turned into a sigh.

John Paul was not the kid in those pictures. He was a teacher, an adult with his own life. He was one of the most stable people Doug knew, funny and handsome, so handsome, with smooth skin and so much fun to be around. And the way the suits he wore for work outlined his shoulders make Doug's fingers itch to pull of that jacket, to press his palms along the warmth of arms and back, to unhook buttons one by one…

And John Paul's mother was sitting right here. Where was his mind going? From sympathy to sex, he hadn't though he was such a horn dog. But this, this vulnerability was unexpected. Between the lines of the letter was a depth that made Doug want to sink deep.

Doug cleared his throat and glanced at the box, at the dozens more letters packed along the bottom. John Paul had lived with Craig in Dublin for four years, but had they gotten past these letters? Doug thought it might be impossible to get past so many letters.

"Why are you showing me this?" Doug asked again.

"I can see you are nervous about him. About Craig. You should see that Craig was no angel."

"But Craig chose him. Eventually, they were together. They were together for five years," It was longer than Doug's longest relationship by, oh, a factor of four. What was a shoebox stuffed under a bed compared with years of living together?

"And now they are not together," Myra shifted, placing the lid back on the box and sliding it under the bed. "When Craig came back after that year in Dublin, it was different. He seemed different and I wished them the best. But I can't say I was surprised when John Paul turned back up."

"You didn't like him. Craig," it was a bit of a revelation. Craig had hovered over his shoulder for so long now. A mystery. An enigma. Once John Paul had said it, His name was Craig, Doug had asked around town impulsively, only to get vague replies and evasions. It was the impulse that had led him to volunteer to help Myra McQueen clean, what had led him to find the boxes of children's photos, led him to that first joyous moment when he had opened a box and seen John Paul's teen face smiling at him. Who was Craig?

But the answer was not in town. Was not in Myra's boxes downstairs.

It was in the shoe box.

And that was why Myra had shown it to him. Myra nodded, as though Doug had spoken his realization aloud. Then she said,

"Craig had his chance. More than enough of them," she placed a hand, warm and motherly, on Doug's shoulder. "But now I don't want his shadow to stop you from making John Paul happy."

"Thank you, Myra," Doug said softly, once again towards the box, now lost in the shadows under the bed. "But I think that will be up to him."

Author note: Thanks for reading. I adore John Paul and Craig and would love to see them together. That said, there was certainly some turbulence in their relationship I wanted to tease out with this story. I also wanted to see Doug finding out more about Craig, as he would *naturally* be extremely curious. Whatever direction things go, I do hope we do get to see a discussion between Doug and John Paul about Craig so John Paul can tease out of some of those emotions. If I have time and inspiration I may even try writing such a scene. Thanks again for reading.