John Paul stood in the centre of the sparsely furnished room and watched as a pool of rainwater gathered at his feet. His shivering had eased and the warmth of the room seemed to envelope him.
"Here."
John Paul flinched as a large towel hit him square in the face. Retrieving the towel from the floor John Paul dried himself off the best he could, rubbing over his face and hair and taking away the chill that still lingered on him.
"Why don't you sit there," Craig said indicating a tattered armchair that was pulled close to the fire. John Paul smiled his gratitude and sank into the soft seat, holding his hands out to the glowing red electrical bars that filled with room with heat.
Craig placed a mug of steaming tea on the floor at John Paul's feet and then took a seat on the mismatched sofa opposite him.
"What do you want John Paul?" Craig asked holding his drink to his face.
John Paul shivered again; the cold outside was nothing to the chill in Craig's soft brown eyes.
"To talk… to say I'm sorry…"
"You've said it… you didn't really need to come all this way to say it again."
"But I did… I need to explain… I need you to understand... I need you to…"
"Forgiveness John Paul?" Craig's tone was as cold as the expression in his eyes, "You've come looking for forgiveness? Then you've wasted your time… after what you did do you think I could ever…"
"Oh Craig… I'm so sorry." John Paul picked up his drink with trembling hands and held it tightly looking for some comfort in its warmth.
"Sorry that you did it… or sorry that I found out?"
John Paul flinched at the accusation. When had Craig become so bitter? He felt the guilt wash over him anew, not just the guilt for what he had done but also for how much it had hurt the person he truly loved.
"For everything," John Paul replied quietly, sipping at the hot insipid liquid in his mug.
"So why do it?" Craig's gaze was steady as he looked at the blue eyes before him. How many times had he stared into those eyes with love? How many times had he felt blessed when he saw that love reflected back at him? Now it all just felt like a lie. Craig felt like the memories he had of John Paul were soiled, stained by his betrayal and the sight of those beautiful blue eyes left him feeling empty.
"I don't know." It was a pathetic answer, John Paul knew that but it was also the truth.
"Well thanks for stopping by," Craig's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Now if that's all you wanted to say."
"Craig please… don't…" John Paul looked down into his drink and felt unable to lift his eyes to the accusations of the soft brown pools that had once loved him.
"What you mean there was more? Let me guess… you didn't MEAN to fuck my brother… it was all a big misunderstanding… maybe you thought it was me is that it?"
"Craig stop it…"
"Or maybe you've come here to tell me what it was like? Go on John Paul tell me… how did it feel to be inside my brother? Was he good? Was he good and tight? Did he moan for you when you made him come? Did he beg for it?"
"For gods sake Craig stop it!" John Paul didn't mean to shout but Craig's words tore at his soul and he had to make them stop. Forcing himself to lift his eyes John Paul saw Craig's cheeks were drenched with tears, the words he had said hurting himself far more than they had hurt John Paul.
Abandoning his drink John Paul half rose before dropping to his knees in front of Craig.
"Craig I am so so sorry," John Paul repeated raising his hands to wipe away the man's tears and a little surprised when Craig didn't stop him.
Craig's shoulders began to shake as the tears fell heavier, tears that he had been holding back for the last few days, released now due to the presence of the man who had caused them.
John Paul wrapped his arms around Craig's neck and pulled the man's head to his shoulder, holding him tightly as he sobbed whilst fighting back his own tears.
"I wish I could take it all back, I really do," John Paul whispered into Craig's hair, "I never wanted to hurt you… not for a second."
"Then tell me why you did it," Craig asked pulling away from John Paul's hold, "Don't I at least deserve that?"
The pain in Craig's eyes ripped at John Paul's heart, the pleading, the need to understand, but how could John Paul possibly explain something he didn't understand himself?
"I don't know… I… I wanted to punish him, for the way he'd been with us… I wanted to punish myself for letting you go… maybe… maybe I even wanted to punish you…" John Paul couldn't believe the words as they came from his mouth and he regretted saying them despite their truth.
"Me?"
"You didn't fight for us," John Paul carried on in a hushed voice, "You let me leave… you didn't come after me…"
"I thought it was what you wanted…"
"It was never what I wanted… YOU are what I wanted… what I want."
"I came back for you," the tears from Craig's eyes had slowed but they still trickled over his cheeks, "I came back for you to find out you'd slept with Jake."
"I didn't know you were gonna do that," John Paul reasoned, "I thought you'd given up on us."
"Do you have any idea how much I loved you?" Craig asked resting his hand against John Paul's face. John Paul leant into the warmth of his palm and tried to ignore the use of the past tense in Craig's words.
"I had even nearly managed to forgive you, you know," Craig continued, "I figured you were hurting and Jake was there, probably taunting you, I know how he can be, I almost understood WHY you did it… that first time… I think we could have got past it – eventually… But why do it again John Paul?" Craig's hand fell from the softness of John Paul's cheek. "Why fuck my brother again when I'd come home? Do you really hate me that much?"
"No," John Paul insisted, his hands trembling as he held onto Craig's, "NO, no, it was never like that… I made a mistake, a stupid, cruel mistake… God Craig I don't hate you… how could I ever hate you?"
"So why? I need to know why John Paul…"
John Paul hung his head in shame. He knew the answer this time but he also knew that it wasn't something Craig would want to hear.
As he lifted his face again Craig could see that John Paul's bright blue eyes were filled with tears, tears that tumbled over his cheeks as he blinked.
"Because I'm a McQueen and fucking up is what we do," John Paul whispered.
"That's not a reason John Paul," Craig said, "That's an excuse. I'd come back for you. Of course I was angry – I'd just heard you telling the whole pub how you'd shagged my brother… so why would you have him back in your bed again so fast? Was he that good you couldn't resist… or did you get some kind of thrill being able to have him whenever you wanted… knowing that I was home?"
John Paul shook his head at the accusations. "It wasn't like that," he said tearfully.
"So what WAS it like?" Craig demanded, "Tell me why you had to fuck my brother again when I'd come home for you." Craig's voice rose as he spoke, anger flashing behind the tears in his eyes.
"You said you hated me," John Paul blurted out, "All I'd ever wanted was for you to love me and I'd made you hate me… I was making sure I deserved it…"
"You fucked my brother to make me hate you?" Craig asked in a quiet puzzled voice.
"Worked didn't it!" John Paul replied.
"No." Craig's reply was a hushed whisper but to John Paul it sounded louder than the thunder that had torn at the sky earlier.
"No?"
"If I could hate you it wouldn't hurt so much."
John Paul's hands cupped Craig's face tenderly. His deep brown eyes were filled with hurt and confusion and love. "I'm so sorry," John Paul breathed as he pulled Craig's face towards him.
Their lips met softly and pressed together with desperation. Craig's mouth was hot and hungry and John Paul's tongue pushed into it, exploring every inch, rediscovering the intoxicating taste of the man. Craig's arms slipped around John Paul neck and the man rose up on his knees until their chests were pushed tightly together in their fierce embrace, their hearts pounding in unison.
And then Craig's hands were against John Paul's shoulders pushing him away.
"No," Craig said shaking his head, "It's not that easy… you can't just kiss me and make this all better."
"I wasn't trying to I…"
Craig covered his face with his hands, he couldn't remember ever feeling this weary before. Lifting his head he noticed the darkness outside the window, just how long had they been talking?
"I can't do this now," he said, "I need… I don't know… I need some time."
"I understand," John Paul replied. A part of him had hoped that the kiss would have led to more, that they would be able to start again but he realised that Craig couldn't let go of the hurt that easily and he was willing to wait… for as long as Craig needed him to.
"I'm knackered," Craig said pulling himself to his feet, "I'm going to bed." He paused and looked down at John Paul who was still kneeling on the floor. "You can stay here if you like," he offered gesturing at the sofa, "I'll throw you a spare blanket."
"Thanks," John Paul said as Craig left the room, at least he wasn't throwing him out. That had to be progress, right?
A soft blue blanket was thrown on the back of the sofa and the two men exchanged a lingering look.
"I love you," John Paul's eyes shouted, begging for forgiveness.
"I know," Craig's eyes answered sadly, "But I don't know if it's enough."
---
Craig awoke with a frown. He was certain that he could smell bacon cooking but how was that possible? And then the realisation hit him like a 20 tonne truck. John Paul!
In the few seconds that it took for sleep to give way to consciousness he had been able to forget John Paul's presence in his flat, or more to the point he had been able to forget the reason for John Paul's presence. But now, just like every morning since he arrived back in Dublin, he relived the discovery of John Paul's betrayal and it stung him as sharply as the first time.
Rubbing his hand over his face Craig dragged himself from the warmth of his bed. Pulling on a jumper and jeans he padded barefoot into his tiny kitchen just in time to see John Paul piling the food on two plates.
"Morning," John Paul said in greeting as Craig entered the room, "Hope you don't mind. Thought I'd make myself useful."
"I didn't have any bacon," Craig said.
"Yeah… I err… I went out to the shops."
"How did you get back in?"
John Paul eyes flicked over to Craig's keys cast carelessly on the worktop. "Hope you don't mind," John Paul said apologetically.
Craig shrugged his shoulders and took the laden plate from John Paul's outstretched hand. John Paul had borrowed his brother, why should he care about his keys?
Settling onto the sofa that had been John Paul's bed a few hours ago Craig began to devour the breakfast before him. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until he took the first bite of his perfectly cooked bacon. John Paul perched on the chair opposite and started to pick at his own food. He didn't really have an appetite but had wanted to do something for Craig and this was the first thing he had thought of.
The men ate in silence until Craig laid down his knife and fork against the empty plate that he placed on the floor with a satisfied sigh.
"You looked like you were ready for that," John Paul commented putting aside his half eaten breakfast.
Craig looked at John Paul's face. The early morning sunlight caught his hair making him look almost angelic.
"Sleep OK?" Craig asked casually.
"Yeah not bad, that sofa's quite comfy," John Paul replied with a genuine smile.
Craig was fully aware of how John Paul had slept. He'd tiptoed into the room a few hours after going to bed and found the man curled up on the sofa in a deep slumber. John Paul hadn't noticed as Craig sat on the floor beside him for a while watching the man sleep and had barely stirred when Craig kissed his forehead before slipping quietly back to his room.
"Why are you still here John Paul?" Craig's question was blunt and John Paul visibly flinched at it.
"We're talking," John Paul stammered, "Sorting things out…"
"We talked," Craig replied coldly, "Nothing's changed… so why are you still here?"
Without comment John Paul got to his feet and a silent voice inside Craig's head cried out "Please don't leave."
Bending down to retrieve his plate John Paul also scooped up Craig's and took them to the kitchen. Craig listened carefully and after a few moments the sound of washing up could be heard.
"So you're sticking around then?" Craig asked leaning against the kitchen doorway.
"Thought I would," John Paul replied as he pulled the plug from the sink and watched the dirty water drain away. If only he could wash away his own dirt so easily.
"And if I don't want you to?"
John Paul stopped and turned to look Craig squarely in the face. "Tell me to go," he said simply.
Craig took an involuntary step back at the force of John Paul's gaze. His piercing blue eyes were unwavering and there was a certainty about him that hadn't been there the day before. Craig found himself unable to speak, especially not to tell John Paul to go.
John Paul smiled as he turned his attention back to the dishes and began to dry them.
Craig ran his hands over his face and sighed. Despite having been out of bed less than an hour he already felt exhausted.
"Why did it have to be Jake?" He asked quietly not meaning the question to be answered.
"I don't know," John Paul replied as he put the clean plates away, "It just was…"
"Do you… did you have feelings for him… before?" Craig was as surprised by the question as John Paul was.
"What? No… no of course not…"
Craig was overcome with a sick curiosity, he needed to know just how John Paul betrayed him and he wanted to know it all.
"Where did you do it?" Craig asked.
"Craig don't start this again…"
"His flat? No probably not – too much danger of Nancy coming home… your place then? Your room was it? Your bed? The bed you'd shared with me?"
"Craig leave it," John Paul sighed as he pushed past the man and out of the kitchen.
"No I want to know," Craig insisted as he followed John Paul into the living room, "I want to know everything… come on John Paul I want to know."
"No you don't," John Paul hissed under his breath. He stood in the centre of the living room and could feel Craig stood only inches behind him.
"Sure I do," Craig taunted, "He's my brother I'm interested in what he gets up to… come on John Paul don't be shy… tell me all about it."
John Paul span around on the spot and his blue eyes flashed darkly as he grabbed at Craig's shoulders.
"You really want to know?" He spat out, "Then yeah, yeah it was my bed… I fucked your brother on my bed… and you know what it was good… really good… and I wasn't thinking about you… I wasn't even thinking about him… I was just fucking… I was just getting my rocks off… but he wanted it… you know that Craig, he was begging for it… Just imagine I made your brother beg me to fuck him… and when I came I was still deep inside him… and he loved it – every second of it…"
John Paul's words faltered at the look of anguish in Craig's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"No, no… don't stop there… please I asked to know everything," Craig said through gritted teeth.
"But this isn't what you wanted."
"Yes it is," Craig insisted, "So what happened then? Did you hold him? Did you fall asleep with my brother in your arms?"
John Paul tried not to laugh but he couldn't hold it in. "Hardly," he said with a wry smile, "He called me a faggot and legged it!"
"I guess I'm more like Jake than I think," Craig said sadly and John Paul felt the man's shoulders slump under his hands as if he were suddenly defeated.
"You're nothing like him," John Paul said gently, "You're worth a million of him."
"But you still slept with him."
"I know… and I'll regret it for the rest of my life… can we stop this now Craig?"
"Stop what?"
"Seeing how much we can hurt each other? Haven't we done enough?"
Craig accepted John Paul's arms around him and they stood in a silent embrace as the early morning sunlight illuminated them. Craig expected to feel tears on his face but there were none. Instead he just felt empty.
"I've ruined everything haven't I?" John Paul asked breathing in the fragrance of Craig's hair, "We're never gonna get it back."
Craig didn't reply as he realised there was nothing left to say. Instead he held John Paul tightly for as long as he could.
"I'll go," John Paul whispered gently, "I don't want to hurt you any more… I'm sorry I ever did… I love you Craig… don't ever think I didn't love you."
In a small Dublin flat two young men stood together, wrapped in each others arms in an unspoken farewell, listening to the sound of their heartbeats and wishing that things could have been different.
---
John Paul lay on his bed staring at his blank walls. Blank now that he had removed everything that had once been there. The posters, the records and the photographs, especially the photographs. The first thing he did when he got back from Dublin was strip his bedroom walls bare. He couldn't stand looking at them any longer. Everything there had reminded him of Craig, but then everything everywhere reminded him of Craig, the adornments of his walls were the only things he had the power to remove.
The posters had been torn to shreds and thrown away. The records stashed neatly in a box under his bed. And the photographs had been tucked away in the back of a drawer. All except one. One he kept under his pillow. Or at least that's where he kept it when he wasn't holding it in his hand and mourning what he had lost.
The picture was of two men, one blonde with startling blue eyes and the other brunette with deep chocolate eyes. They were young and happy, stood with their arms around each other in an embrace of friendship. The picture had been taken so long ago, long before everything changed, long before their friendship got lost in their love and their love got lost in the reality of the world.
Sometimes John Paul would stare at the photograph for hours, not noticing the time slip by as he indulged himself in the memories of what had been. Sometimes John Paul would stare at the photograph for hours, not noticing the time slip by as he tortured himself with the thoughts of what he had thrown away.
He had been home for just over a week but the pain wasn't easing and the regret wasn't lessening. He almost had it all but he threw it away at the last minute in an act of supreme stupidity. He almost had it all but now he was left with nothing.
His mother and sisters had tried to console him with a never-ending stream of tea and sympathy. The tea had been welcome, the sympathy less so as he really didn't think he deserved it.
John Paul lay in his bed staring at his blank walls, walls that were as empty as his life.
---
Craig sat in his Dublin flat staring at an empty armchair. The chair where John Paul had sat cold and shivering, drenched through to the skin and still managing to look beautiful, not that Craig had told him that, not then.
John Paul had followed him to Ireland in search of forgiveness and salvation but had found neither.
As deeply as Craig loved John Paul he hated him in equal measures. How could he feel two such conflicting emotions for one person? As much as he had wanted John Paul to go he had needed him to stay, but John Paul couldn't do both so he left. He left Craig just like he had done at the airport, not because he wanted to but because he had to. Sometimes even love wasn't enough.
Tucked inside his wallet Craig kept a strip of photographs. Pictures taken on a happy day when the two young men felt alive just because they were together and nothing in the world matter but how they felt, how they felt about each other. Pictures taken when what they shared was theirs alone and the rest of the world didn't need to know. Pictures taken when Craig had genuinely believed that he could keep his relationship with John Paul a secret, when he believed that he could be happy living half a life.
Craig would sometimes look at the photographs, running his fingertips over the illusion on the glossy paper, imagining he could feel the soft skin beneath his fingertips instead of cold uncaring card. Sometimes Craig couldn't stand to look at the photographs because they would remind him of what he almost had. They would remind him what he had to let go because letting go was the only thing he could do to keep his sanity.
He had been alone for just over a week but the pain wasn't easing. He almost had it all but it was snatched way from him at the last minute in an act of supreme stupidity. He almost had it all but now he was left with nothing.
Craig had never felt so alone as he had for the past week. The friends he had made in Dublin couldn't help, even if he had chosen to confide in any of them, some hurts no one could take away, some hurts you just had to learn to live with.
Craig sat in his Dublin flat staring at an empty armchair. An armchair that was as empty as his life.
---
"Tea?"
John Paul forced a smile as his mother entered his room with a mug of the hot liquid in her hands. Placing the drink on his bedside cabinet Myra observed her son sadly. She had never seen him this low before and she knew there was nothing at all she could do to help.
"You can't carry on like this you know," Myra said kindly.
"I know," John Paul agreed.
"Why don't you come downstairs?"
"Not yet eh?"
"John Paul you've hardly left this room for two weeks… it's not healthy."
"I just need some more time," John Paul said taking up his drink and cradling its warmth in his hands, "I'll be down when I'm ready… promise."
Myra rested her hand on the top of her son's head. "Don't leave it too long," she said gently.
"I won't," John Paul replied but in truth he had no real idea when he would be ready to face the world again. He wasn't sure he even wanted to be a part of a world that didn't include Craig Dean.
John Paul's bedroom was bathed in the early afternoon sunlight, basking everything in its heat, shimmering on the top of a cold and forgotten mug of tea and causing dust mites to dance in its glow. It touched everything with warmth, everything that was apart from the solitary figure lying on the bed. There was a coldness in John Paul that even the sun couldn't take away. A chill that ran deep within him, coursed through his veins and beat inside his heart. A terrible ice that he had brought with him from Dublin and had been unable to melt.
With a sigh he walked over to his bedroom window and looked out on the street below. Half closing his eyes John Paul tried to imagine he could see Craig standing in the shadows, like he had been once before but when John Paul opened his eyes wide there was nobody there. There was never anybody there.
John Paul groaned inwardly at the sound of a knock at his door. "Please no more tea," he whispered under his breath. As much as he loved his family their concern and sympathy was starting to suffocate him.
"Leave me alone," John Paul called to whichever of his sisters was standing in the hallway.
But of course these were the McQueen girls and when did they ever listen to their brother? As if to prove the point John Paul's bedroom door creaked open.
"I'll go if you want me to," a voice said quietly. A voice that didn't belong to any member of the McQueen family. A distinctive male voice that made John Paul's knees tremble as he slowly turned from the window.
"Craig?" The name was not so much spoken as breathed from John Paul's lungs. "Craig? How… what…. Why? Craig?"
"Ok so you've not forgotten my name then," Craig said with a smile as he walked into the room and closed the door behind him. His eyes flicked over the bare walls but he said nothing as his gaze settled back on the man before him.
"Craig," John Paul repeated still not quite able to grasp the reality of Craig Dean standing in his room, "How are you here? Why? What…?"
"Look the thing is," Craig began running his hand nervously through his hair. He'd worked out a speech on his way over to the McQueen house. He'd planned every word, every last syllable but now, faced with the breathtaking blue of John Paul's eyes looking at him like he was the most beautiful sight in the world all the planned words fled from his mind.
"The thing is," Craig repeated taking a steadying breath, "There's stuff I need to say… that I didn't say before… and I need you to listen… and not interrupt coz if you do I might never get it out… and I need to say it… I need you to hear it…"
"OK," John Paul replied not able to tear his eyes from the beauty of Craig standing in a pool of light in the middle of his room.
Craig shuffled uncomfortably. "And you can't look at me."
"What?"
"I'm serious, please John Paul, I can't say this while you're looking at me like that…"
"Like what?"
"You know… please…"
"OK," John Paul agreed turning slowly back to face the window. He could hear Craig begin to pace the room and clear his throat.
Craig's hands were shaking as he tried to order the thoughts spinning around in his head. It had all seemed so easy in his head. But in his head he didn't have John Paul's presence close enough to touch, close enough to taste.
"Right yeah," Craig cleared his throat again and rubbed his hands over his face. "OK so the thing is… what I want to say is…"
"What is it Craig?"
"No interrupting remember?"
"Right, sorry, carry on."
"What it is… what you did… what you and Jake did, it made me sick. I mean literally, the thought of you and him made me physically sick. I couldn't believe that you would do that… that HE would… that either of you would think so little of me to do something like that…"
John Paul bit back the urge to reply, he'd already said his sorrys a million times he didn't really think one more would make any difference.
"When you left me at the airport I felt like you'd torn my heart out… I couldn't understand why you would do that to me, why you would just walk away… but the more I thought about it the more I think I got it… I'd always thought you were so strong, so confident, so sure of everything but you were just as nervous about it all as me weren't you? You'd needed my reassurance as much as I'd ever needed yours and I couldn't give it to you… not that day. But then I thought I could come back, I could make everything alright again.
And there you were… stood in the middle of the Dog just as I got home, I figured it was fate or something… I thought this is it… this is my chance to prove to John Paul how much I love him… I was gonna walk up to you and kiss you there and then, in front of everyone, just like you wanted… but then I heard what you said and it was like you tore my heart out all over again."
Craig closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands as the memories of hearing John Paul's words in the Dog played through his mind.
"You know for a second I thought that it was some sort of sick joke and you'd seen me arrive, but then I saw Jake's face and I knew what you'd said was true… I knew that two people I'd thought I could trust had betrayed me. Christ John Paul why did it have to be Jake? Why Jake? And then to do it again… so I said I hated you… OF COURSE I hated you I'd just heard you say that you'd shagged my brother how else was I gonna feel?
I hate what you've done John Paul… I can hardly sleep because when I do it haunts my dreams… I can't stop thinking about you touching him… being with him… my brother, my older brother… I hate you so much right now that I just want to hit you and scream at you and make it all stop… I need it to just stop… I want my life back John Paul… I want myself back… I want…"
Craig's words faded away with a small sob and John Paul heard the creak of his bed as Craig sat down.
Turning from the window John Paul saw Craig perched on the edge of his bed, his head was buried in his hands and his shoulders shook with soft sobs.
Sitting next to him John Paul wrapped his arm around Craig's shoulders and pulled the man to his chest.
"What do you want Craig?" John Paul whispered as warm teardrops ran from his own eyes. As much as he had been hurting before it was nothing to the pain he felt seeing the anguish he had caused Craig.
"Being with you hurts so much," Craig said in a shaky voice.
"I know," John Paul said sadly.
"But so does being without you. So what do I do John Paul, what do I do now?"
"I don't know Craig," John Paul replied kissing the top of Craig's head affectionately, "It's up to you now… it's got to be your choice… it's got to be what you can live with…"
"But whatever I choose it hurts," Craig said lifting his tear stained face to John Paul, "I want you to stop it hurting."
"I don't know how," John Paul said wiping Craig's tears from his cheeks, "If I did I would… you know I would."
"Make it stop John Paul," Craig pleaded as his eyes screamed their distress, the sight ripping at John Paul's heart until he thought it might break completely.
"I can't," John Paul insisted, "Please Craig don't ask me… I can't do it…"
"Then what do I do?"
"I don't know," John Paul said, "I'm so sorry Craig… I never meant for any of this… you don't deserve any of this… if I could take it away I would… I swear I would… God Craig I love you… I love you so much."
John Paul buried his face into the warmth of Craig's neck and held the man against him as they both wept.
"I love you too," Craig whispered into John Paul's chest.
