Author's Note: So yeah, I said quick updates, didn't I? Oops. I forgot that everything being in my head did not necessarily translate to getting down on paper quickly. Won't make any more rash promises but will do my best to update as soon as I can.

This chapter was getting insanely long so I've split it into two.


We lay side by side for a moment or two, not touching while our breathing got back to normal and the world ceased to spin. Then I felt an arm curl around me, pulling me in to Christian's side and I happily obliged; nestling into that snug gap between arm and chest, my own arm across his stomach, my leg over his, my head resting just above his heart, taking comfort in hearing the beat as it slowed.

I had always felt like I fit here; that this was a space made perfectly just for me. Even at my lowest points, when the shame and the guilt threatened to drown out everything else, I could always find quiet here, in this space. My head was silent now for the first time in months. It had been crammed with so many noisy thoughts for so long, I had almost forgotten what it was like to lie here in peace, my mind empty. No need to move, no need to think; no need for guilt or shame or despair. Just listening to the sound of our breathing.

In, out, in, out...

I felt lips press gently against the top of my head and I smiled, curling my mouth against his bare skin.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

My echo seemed inadequate, barely expressing a fraction of the emotions filling me. But it would do.

In, out, in, out...

"Can we talk now?" Christian mumbled into my hair and my whole body tensed, just for a moment.

Maybe it wouldn't do.

He must have felt my reaction as he began running one hand up and down my spine in soothing, circular motions, while he reached the other hand up to my hair and stroked it, pushing the damp, curly strands behind my ear.

"Please?"

I relaxed. I couldn't do otherwise under the assault against my senses, my nerve-ends tingling at his gentle motions; but I also knew he was right. I owed him some explanations. That didn't necessarily make them easy to express.

"What happened to my tea?" I asked.

I felt rather than heard him chuckle, enjoying the interesting feeling of his chest moving under me.

"I seem to remember I gave you the job of putting the kettle on."

"Ah, but then I got distracted," I said, raising my head to look at him, deliberately keeping my face straight.

He matched me, serious look for serious look. "So you did. And who's fault was that?"

"Yours. Always yours." We both cracked into huge smiles in unison and I reached forward to give him a brief kiss before slumping back down again.

He resumed his gentle stroking of my hair. "So if I make you a cup of tea, then can we talk?"

I pretended to think about it. "Deal."

Pressing another quick kiss to the top of my head, he pulled himself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. I propped myself up on one elbow to watch his familiar movements as he filled the kettle; drinking in the sight of him, gloriously naked, bathed in the warm summer sunlight escaping through the not-quite-closed blinds.

Way back at the beginning, I had been shocked - and to be honest, more than a little turned on - by how comfortable Christian was in his own body. No trace of shame as he walked around the flat, naked as the day he was born. At first, I would avert my eyes, hide my own shame for as long as I could get away with; dress as quickly as possible, scurry under the covers. But after a while - and after Christian started taking the piss out of me for being too scared to look at a body I had tasted every inch of not half an hour before - I started not to care. Then I started to revel in it, stare at him openly, rejoice in the fact that gorgeous, powerful, muscular body was mine. The shame faded over time. How could anything that beautiful be wrong?

He must have felt my intense gaze; or perhaps he just knew me too well. "Are you perving on me?" he asked without looking round.

"Nope!" I called back cheerfully, not taking my eyes off him, and he flashed me a quick grin over his shoulder.

"Yeah, right."

Had he changed? I wondered as I watched him search for clean mugs. Were his shoulders bulkier than the last time I had seen him like this? The flat had changed too, I realised. The kettle had moved; the lamp was in the wrong place; there was a new picture of Christian with his sister on the bookcase.

I felt a brief pang of something I couldn't identify. Regret? Guilt? Sorrow? It was selfish and ridiculous, but part of me felt he had no right to have changed. To have lived his life; growing, changing, moving on. Forgetting me. How many other people had he been with since we parted? A painful twisted knot began to form in my stomach at the thought, but I couldn't stop my treacherous brain from running on, picturing a procession of random strangers here in this bed, our bed. Or worse. What if they weren't all random strangers? What if he'd met someone, someone he'd really liked, someone he could see a future with? If it hadn't happened yet, it would have only been a matter of time. I couldn't expect him to sit around and pine for me for the rest of his life; I might have thought less of him if he had.

I tried to force myself to calm down. He hadn't met someone. He wanted to be with me; he had invited me home, told my parents only yesterday that he loved me, told me that he loved me. But that was because I had finally worked out what I needed to do, chosen him over my parents. What if the realisation had taken me longer? What if this certain knowledge that I couldn't live that way any more, couldn't lie to myself every day for the rest of my life, couldn't stop loving Christian no matter what I did, had come next week? Or the week after? What if I had realised too late, when Christian had moved on for good?

The panic gripped me, bile rising in my throat as the images assailed my head; Christian meeting someone, falling in love with them, sharing his flat with them, walking round the Square hand-in-hand with someone who wasn't me

"Hey."

I had been so caught up in horrible thoughts I hadn't even noticed him leave the kitchen. He crouched down, arms resting on the shelf by the bed, and smiled softly at me. "You all right? You looked miles away."

I managed to smile back. "I'm good."

Christian looked like he didn't quite believe me. "You stopped ogling me," he said with a pout. "I thought I'd better come over and do something about it." He leaned forward, still smiling, and captured my mouth in a gentle kiss; and whether he somehow knew some of what was going through my mind or not, he had come up with the right answer for it. When we heard the kettle boil and he started to move away, I slid my hand round the back of his neck and pulled him back into me, deepening the kiss; exploring his mouth with my tongue, delighting in the familiar taste of it. He responded in kind, gripping my hair with both hands as he kissed me back. At last I broke off, swallowing against the sudden lump in my throat as I sat back on the bed.

I opened my eyes to find him looking at me; still smiling but with concern in his eyes. No, not concern; fear. I felt a stab of guilt for having caused it. "What was that for?" he asked.

I shrugged and smiled; wishing I was a different sort of person and could find some way to properly express all the confused thoughts in my head. I settled for; "I love you."

The hint of a frown vanished and he beamed at me. "I will never, ever get tired of hearing that." And he reached over and kissed me again. "I love you," he repeated as our foreheads rested together, our breathing shallow.

"The kettle's boiled," I murmured and he rolled his eyes at me.

"I had noticed. If only someone hadn't distracted me. So whose fault was it this time?"

"Hmm…still yours."

He stuck his tongue out at me before getting to his feet and heading back into the kitchen; and I rolled onto my back in the middle of the bed and allowed my face to relax into a smile. What was the point of worrying? There was no going back. I was here now; and at this moment, there was nowhere else in the world I would rather be.