The broken couple sat in silence for what felt like hours. Both seemed calm and content to sit quietly in each other's company. It was John Paul who finally broke the spell.
He was nervous before he spoke, unsure what Craig would say or do next. He didn't want to scare his friend but he wanted Craig to know that he was there for him.
"Craig," he started quietly, his words filled with caution and uncertainty. "What happened to you?" He didn't turn and look at Craig, he just stared straight ahead, watching the football match unfolding in front of them.
"Does it matter?" Craig replied.
"Yes," John Paul said, his voice projecting a strength he didn't feel.
"Why?" Craig asked, his voice low and quiet.
"How can you move past whatever happened if you won't talk about it?"
"I'm fine
"Do you really believe that?"
Craig was just silent.
"Craig, I understand you are mad at me, I'm guessing you blame me for what happened to you but if you don't talk about it, it'll never get any easier." John Paul's voice broke as he finished. He still wasn't looking at his friend; he didn't want to spook him.
"I was mad at you, mad at myself, mad at the world," Craig started, "but now I'm just tired," he said with a sigh. "I can't be bothered being angry or fighting anymore."
"Craig you can't give up!" John Paul said, turning to face his friend for the first time. "If you stop fighting, if you just give in, you let them win. Whoever did this to you, that is what they want. They want to beat you down and stop you fighting. If you give up they win and that isn't the Craig I remember."
Craig was still gazing out, watching the football match, but his gaze was unfocussed, like he was not really seeing the players in front of him.
"Its not easy to fight on your own," Craig said quietly.
"You are not on your own Craig," John Paul replied, sounding stronger than he felt.
"Yes I am, John Paul." Craig turned to face John Paul for the first time since they'd sat down together and John Paul saw the tears running down his friend's face. He saw the pain and hurt hidden in the velvety depths of his friend's eyes and realised what Craig meant.
"You're alone because I left you." He turned away as he replied
Neither man spoke for a few minutes. The silence was drowning them. John Paul didn't know what to say as he turned his attention back to the football in front of him.
"I'm sorry," he finally whispered.
"I get why you left, I really do," Craig replied. "I wasn't ready to be out and if you'd come with me we'd both have been in the closet, just in a new city and you couldn't live like that. But I needed you," he said simply. "I needed you to help me come to terms with who and what I was. But rather than help me, you left me alone." There was no anger or bitterness in Craig's voice as he spoke, just pain and sadness.
As John Paul looked at him, he could see Craig's detachment from life and knew he had to help his friend, his lover, his soul mate, reconnect with who he was, get the fight back and start to live again. The only way to do that was to make him deal with his pain. He just didn't know how he was going to do that. He turned away and focused on the match in front of him.
"I'm sorry I ran away," John Paul spoke up. "I was scared if you couldn't acknowledge me publicly, in a place where no-one knew us, you'd never be able to do it in a place where you were going to be trying to fit in and make new friends. I didn't want to live in secret anymore. I didn't want to end up resenting you for putting me back in the closet; I loved you too much for that to happen."
"I wanted to be out, to be open, I just needed time."
"I know, I just don't think we were ready to be out and open together. Maybe things would have been better if we'd come out sooner here, gotten used to being together in public in a place where people knew us, maybe things could have been different."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"So, you gonna tell me what happened Craig?" John Paul asked as he turned back to his friend.
Craig watched the players in front of him as one team scored and celebrated together. His eyes fixed on them until he turned suddenly and looked at John Paul, tears tumbling down his cheeks again, an empty look in his eyes.
"I got beat up." Craig's voice was low, it wasn't even a whisper, but John Paul had no trouble understanding him.
"Why," he asked, careful not to push too hard but not backing off either.
"Some drunks didn't like the fact I'd once been more than friends with another guy," Craig replied, still speaking in barely a whisper. "It was May 16th, I was in the pub I've been working in, just having a drink on my own. I was looking at some pictures on my phone. I've never been able to delete them."
Craig had turned back to the football match, almost like he was letting the flow and rhythm of the game almost hypnotise him, letting him remember the past without reliving the pain.
"These guys were over from Liverpool on a stag week. The pub had been their starting point all week, so I'd seen and served them a lot. I thought they were nice guys, pretty friendly and I had actually been having a laugh with them. That night when they came in I was sitting in a corner on my own. I'd been there for a few hours and was pretty drunk. I was mucking about with my phone, looking at pictures, typing text messages, deleting them, hitting your number to phone you, then hanging up before I got connected."
John Paul didn't interrupt, he just let Craig speak. This was something he needed to get off his chest and John Paul was ready to listen.
"They came and sat around me and made a joke outta me being a depressed drunk. They nicked my phone and started mucking about with it. They saw the pictures of us together, read some old text messages we'd sent each other and put two and two together. They started making fun of me being gay and then got pissed off cause I'd been chatting to them all week about girls and stuff. I tried to tell them I wasn't gay, I'd just fallen in love with someone who happened to be a guy but they didn't let me get a word in."
Craig paused as the players in front of him stopped. One of them had been knocked down and the two teams were currently arguing over whether it was a foul. As the ref broke up the fight he continued.
"They started getting really vocal and the whole pub could hear them. I hadn't told anyone about us so all the guys I worked with were a bit shocked, but they eventually told the guys to calm down. The guys made a fuss of getting up and accidentally on purpose knocking over the table and chairs around us, breaking some glasses and spilling drinks as they left the pub, all the while laughing and calling me names. I just wanted to hide under the table."
He paused again briefly, rubbing his injured shoulder.
"I apologised to the staff for causing the problems and they started to ask questions, why hadn't I told them and stuff so I just made an excuse and left. I was only a street away when I heard their voices shouting after me. I didn't turn round, I just kept walking. They caught up to me and started pushing me around. Asking why I didn't turn when they shouted, was I too good for them? Did I not fancy them? Would I say no if given the chance?"
Craig turned suddenly to look John Paul right in the eye.
"I took a lot of stick around here before I left for Dublin, but it was all worth it while I had you beside me. But somehow, until that moment, I hadn't realised what it must have been like for you when you first came out. All the things these guys were saying and doing, what Sonny and I did to you when you came out." Craig stopped for a minute, looking at John Paul with sorrow and regret, "I didn't realise how much it hurt until it happened to me."
Craig looked away again. John Paul knew Craig so well, he knew what each movement and look meant and he knew that whatever happened next, Craig was embarrassed or ashamed about it.
"They had me down on the ground, kicking the shit outta me. I felt my wrist snap and my shoulder pop out, but after that it was all just a blur. I didn't do anything, I didn't fight back, and I didn't scream or shout, I just took it. The quieter I was the harder they kicked. They took a photo of us outta my wallet and started rubbing it in my face. Asking if … if…" Craig stopped as the tears flowed freely.
John Paul looked at him and could imagine what his tormentors had said to him. He put his arms around his friend, careful of his injuries, and held Craig as he sobbed into John Paul's arms.