Thanks for your comments! Here's part 4 - Flashback in Italics
John Paul couldn't breathe.
The morning had started off so normally; there had been no hint whatsoever of a life altering event brewing in the air. And yet there he was.
'Craig…' he croaked, gripping onto the door frame to support his suddenly shaking limbs.
The rest of the world seemed to fall away as he stared. The noise around him faded into the distance whilst people and buildings blurred out of focus until the only thing with any clarity was the boy stood in front of him. The one thing he both couldn't bear to look at and couldn't bear not to.
He wanted to take him all in, let his eyes roam freely over the body he'd once known as well as his own, he wanted to search for changes, register ways in which time had taken its toll on Craig's features. But he couldn't. He just couldn't tear his eyes away from those in front of him.
They stood there wordlessly for hours; or maybe it was seconds. Time seemed to have disappeared with the rest of the world.
'John Paul…' Craig's voice that broke the silence was barely even a whisper but he relished the feel of the name on his lips again. The corners of his mouth upturned in a tentative smile
'It's good to see you.' He managed.
John Paul didn't respond but lifted a hand cautiously towards Craig's face. He couldn't quite bring himself to believe what was before him; such visions had been shattered by the onset of morning more times than he cared to count.
He drew breath sharply as his trembling fingers made contact with Craig's cheek.
'You're back' he murmured.
Craig nodded gently and reached up to squeeze the hand that was still rested on his cheek. John Paul's eyes, already sparkling with tears that he wouldn't allow to fall, widened at the touch. He started and jerked his hand away, shaking his head to break the spell Craig's eyes were casting.
'I have to go.'
'John Paul don't…;'
But he'd already gone. And Craig could do nothing except watch the hunched over figure retreat into the distance.
As though that one fleeting encounter had opened the floodgates, John Paul battled his way home through a sea of Craig related memories. Stumbling through the streets, oblivious to all around him, his mind wandered through times that he had resolutely locked away over the months following Craig's departure…
In what was possibly the most poorly timed display of courage ever, Craig had finally succeeded in breaking up with Sarah a mere three days before they were supposed to move to Ireland. He'd told her that it wasn't her it was him, that them staying together wasn't fair on her, and that he simply didn't love her anymore; at least not enough to justify her coming to Dublin. She had cried. A lot. And screamed a bit. He'd truthfully insisted there was no other woman. She cried some more regardless. He told her that he needed a fresh start, without her. She reacted by throwing him out the house, then returned back inside to wring out some final, bitter tears.
All in all it hadn't actually been as bad as he'd expected. At least she hadn't begged; Craig knew he was terrible at saying no.
The time between John Paul finding out about the split and him seeing Craig was barely long enough for him to make a cup of tea, change his shirt and rush to his front door to answer the ringing doorbell but he counted those moments as amongst the most blissful of his life.
Beyond that fateful second however, from the moment that he set his eyes on Craig's face, began a series of events that he numbered amongst his worst. The look on Craig's face at that point spoke everything that needed to be said and at later dates John Paul considered this to be the reason why he had little memory of the words that had actually passed between them.
He could remember that Craig had apologised, that he said he did love him but he was still going to Dublin and that it had to be over between them. He said that nobody should know about them. Ever. Craig had been quite explicit about this. There had been tears; although not on John Paul's part. And as he led Craig calmly to the door and asked him to leave he had managed a harshly spoken 'Goodbye', intending for it to be the last word he ever spoke to Craig Dean. Beyond this all he could conjure of that afternoon was gut wrenching ache that he knew had been terrorising his body throughout.
The banging of his own front door as he slammed it behind him shook John Paul out of his reverie and his trembling body slumped against the door.
'What's up with you?' Jacqui demanded, appearing from nowhere at the top of the stairs.
'It's nothing' he shrugged, glancing quickly up at her 'I'm fine'
'You look like you've seen a ghost'
John Paul's brow furrowed as he let out a soft laugh 'Yeah…' he nodded 'Something like that.'
