Chapter three and this time round its Razorlight… wonder why I was listening to them whilst writing Holloaks fic?

Part Three – Hold On

Two hours after he had run away from Connor, Craig had decided that he couldn't sleep and had begun to properly unpack.

Clothes could now be found in his wardrobe or his chest of drawers. He blu-taced some pictures of his family, the picture of two smiling boys, arms wrapped tight around each finding pride of place in the centre of the circle of family.

The framed one was also out, grasped firmly in his hand, as music from Connors bedroom echoed down through the quiet hallway.

Craig hadn't heard him rise up the stairs or when exactly the music had begun to play, but the track… God, the whole album, playing was one he knew every chord, every syllable, every lyric and chorus back to front and upside down.

The dulcet tones of Johnny Borrell could be heard resounding of the old walls in modern day Dublin house.

Craig had worn out his CD during the summer just gone by… it had held so much truth to him during his turmoil that he ended up buying a second copy of the album.

Now, it hurt too much to even think of that single track that was his very being, the soundtrack to his impossibly complicated and confusing life.

As one track finished, Craig knew, even without thinking, he knew that it would be their song next.

The shimmering guitar started as Craig, lying sideways on his bed, starred at his soul mates shining smile. For the third time since escaping his predicament downstairs, Craig had retrieved his phone from the bedside table and had started to type out a text message to the love of his life.

When it came to sending the message, he failed spectacularly each time. His hand cramped, his eyes watered, and the phone fell to his bed.

"I know who I am and I know what I'm not…"

Wasn't that they very reason his blue eyed DJ had left him to his tears and fears at check-in mere hours ago?

His eyes returned to the framed photo at his side. He stroked the boys beautiful face as fresh tears spilled, salty and hot down his face.

Here he was, crying about his former lover, when he already kissed someone else… another GUY no less!

"Same old story, same old me…"

Why did he always, when things got tough, make the wrong decisions? He was lost without his best mate, and he was screwing up any chance he had of making friends with his house mate by kissing him.

He was so lost in his thoughts that knocking at his door was unknown to him for a few minutes before he called out "C'min" to Connor.

The door opened, and the moonlight from Craig's window illuminated the Irish boy's sullen face. Craig could tell he had been crying, his eyes were bloodshot and his face carried tear stains.

"Some how you turn it around…"

The black haired boy crossed the room, having closed the door after himself, and sat on the edge of Craig's bed.

He sniffled as he breathed in, sighed as he breathed out.

"And now you're finding out why…"

Connor's voice croaked as he called out Craig's name.

"What happened downstairs, Craig? Why'd you runaway?"

Craig opened his mouth, but air was all that escaped his throat.

"You refuse to regret…"

Craig caught sight of the boy sitting at his feet and felt his breath catch in his throat. He flowed down the bed, sitting beside his acquaintance, and, terrified of the outcome, but powered by this feeling he couldn't throw away, grasped the other's hand.

Interlocking their fingers, Craig squeezed Connor's hand affectionately. Craig felt Connor relax beside him.

"But if you want love…"

Craig took a steep first step and told Connor the truth of his summer – his summer of discovery as he had once called it after everything come out at the engagement party that shouldn't have been.

He told Connor of his confusion of his feelings for his best friend, his jealously at the sight of said friend talking, holding hands, kissing his boyfriend ("What kind of name is SPIKE anyway?") and then his overload of thoughts, his feelings deepening, his fear of rejection, of abandonment.

He explained what had happened at the airport just hours previously, of how he had lost everything he had ever wanted in such a space of time.

And then he told of what he was feeling now.

How anytime he saw Connor, his stomach started doing somersaults. How he had watched Connor from the corner of his eye when they had watched TV before heading out in search of pizza. He spoke of his anticipation every time Connor touched him, looked at him a certain way, or ever just the sound of the boys laugh.

When he arrived at kissing scene from two hours ago, Connor had leant his head against his shoulder.

Craig swallowed hard as he tried to find the words of what he felt just hours ago, he found his tongue was dry and yet his hands clammy.

"And if you reach out…"

He talked about the glowing feeling he had felt, how good he thought Connor had smelt and how he had bowed his head to stop himself from grabbing hold and kissing Connor hard.

And when they had arrived at where they were now, Craig felt his shoulders lose the weight he hadn't known was there. He watched as Connor faced him.

It was Connor this time that leant in. That held the older boy firmly in his arms. That brushed their lips together, tentatively at first, but given a few seconds, with flare and a wandering tongue that knew how to make Craig's breath flood out his nose.

It was Connor who forced Craig on his back all so willingly. It was Connor whose hands snaked beneath Craig's red shirt, feeling the muscled stomach beneath.

"Well I will reach out too…"

Craig's hands found themselves buried in Connor's soft, spiky hair, as he sucked the other's tongue into his mouth, wrapping his own around it fiercely, possessively even.

Connor's fingers were working the buttons to Craig's top open. He reached the final one and, with great difficulty, popped it open. He slid the garment of Craig's shoulders.

Craig broke back and locked their gazes once more. "Hold on… Connor, are you sure?"

Connor's tears, once dried, were fresh, and Craig was reminded of a moment just over four months ago, when he had been asked that very same question.

The younger boys' eyes, water-filled and shining in the moonlight, glanced around the room quickly before finding Craig's once more. He was already working Craig's belt open when he gave a solemn nod of his head before crashing their mouths together.

"So just hold on… well I'll hold on too…"