Not quite one of the most popular stories I've posted here, but I'm continuing it nevertheless ;3

I want to thank Corkie41, Jinx302 and Moxie Steele for leaving a review! Kisses and hugs for you!

He sits in the cafeteria, stares at his phone for minutes now although he knows is futile to do so and if he his honest with himself, he doesn't even know why he wants it to be not futile at all. He should be happy that his life is back to normal again. As normal as it can be.

Only that he is not happy and that leaves the question why.

Thinking back to that night it seems somehow surreal, yet real enough that he still can feel Phil's lips, his hands and it still shocks him as much... as he wants to feel it again. And that... is the most shocking thing. Why does he want to feel it again? A man kissing, touching him?

What the hell?!

I came to you because there is something every time I touch you or you touch me, Stephen. It's like a weird kind of attraction.

Phil's words have shocked him, haunted him, made him think... and those words scare the shit out of him, because the more he thinks about it, the more he becomes aware that... that he felt it, too. That something. Feels it, every time his mind latches on to moments they have touched.

I'm not gay. That's what he tells himself every day, over and over again ever since. I am not gay.

He isn't. He likes boobs, round, firm asses, petite frames with nice and soft curves. Not hard muscles, broad shoulders, rough beard stubbles. He doesn't like low, manly voices breathing his name in a most sensual way right into his ear. He doesn't like the scent of sandalwood filling his mind or having hands on him that answer him with a strength equally to his own.

Hands that can touch so tenderly that it causes a sweet ache deep within his chest...

Woah, wait! Fuck... fuck, no! He. Is. Not. Gay.

A sigh passes his lips as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The screen of his phone is dark again but as he wipes a finger over it, it lightens up. And shows nothing but his homescreen. No message.

For a brief moment his gaze swipes through the room, finding the familiar faces of his co-workers there and it's a picture he has seen uncountable times, a picture that is perfectly normal. Only that he can't get rid of the odd feeling that something is missing. Yet it isn't really a surprise, is it? Since he knows that something... or rather someone... is missing.

The first day after... that night... Stephen been utterly confused about... it. He had been lying in his bed for minutes after waking up, staring into nothing while his thoughts whirled and his mind struggled to process, to understand what has happened. And then he began to laugh, because, no way, things like that don't happen. And then he almost choked on his laughter, because, fuck, it has happened. While his body had reacted immediately as the memories came back all too vivid, his head refused to accept he facts, causing his mind to switch to autopilot.

Day two hadn't been any better.

On day three he had been standing in his kitchen, holding a Pepsi in hand and after gazing at the Pepsi logo for a long moment, he had to sit down as his mind suddenly admitted and accepted that, yes, it has happened and yes, he has enjoyed... it. It had been good that it was his day off, because for the rest of it all he had been able to do was sitting around, thinking and fighting with himself.

On day four he woke up around five a.m. and because he couldn't stand it any longer, he got up and headed to Phil's house. He needed to talk to him again and no way Phil had really left, he still didn't believe it. And so he knocked, rang the bell and called until the door had been opened, revealing... a really pissed stranger.

With another sigh he looks back down on his cell, feeling a cold and queazy something run down his spine, the one he feels every time he thinks the words. Phil is gone. He's really gone.

That was two days ago. And although he has spent the past days with being confused, shocked, scared and... there are so many more emotions which had crashed down on him and still threaten to suffocate him under their weight... he isn't... disgusted. Being disgusted would be the normal reaction, right? Right.

Yesterday he found a message on Twitter from Phil, not directed at anyone in particular.

- The moment when you wish your life to be a computer game so you can go back to the last savepoint. -

No, it hadn't been directed at anyone in particular, but it was pretty obvious what he had meant with it and surprisingly enough it... stung. And before he had known what he was doing, Stephen sent a message, too... at no one in particular...

- The moment when someone dares to turn your life upside down and then runs away just like that. -

Okay, not very dipomatic. Actually he shouldn't be surprised that there isn't a message on his phone. In fact Phil hasn't texted anything at all afterwards...

"Someone's brooding, huh?" a low voice behind him says and makes him jump.

A second later John sits down on the chair beside him, seeking his his eyes and Stephen meets him with a forced little smile.

"A bit," he replies.

An understatement and he knows that John knows it, too.

"What happened?"

Stephen snorts and shakes his head. Huh, what happened...

"Not what. Rather who," he mutters and drops his gaze back to his phone.

If there is anyone he can talk with about his Phil-problem... at least about the PG version... then it is John. Because John knows first hand how it feels to be with another man and not being gay.

After a moment of quietness he adds: "Phil."

There is no need to look at the other man again, he can feel the surprised look.

"Phil, as in Phil Brooks?" John asks then slowly.

Stephen nods and sighs for the umpteenth time.

"Wanna talk about it?" John says a bit quieter now.

Stephen nods again. And John waits while he thinks about how to start. The thing is... he has no idea how to put... it... was has happened... and how he's feeling... into words.

"How did yer and Randy...? I mean..." he murmurs, frowning. He has no idea why he's asking this now... well, maybe because he tries to find out what he's feeling... "How did yer know tha... Fuck, I mean, how did it happen?"

Now he meets the other man's gaze and finds mild amusement, a gentle smile and a soft glow in his eyes.

"Oh, uhm... we were drunk and one night we fooled around, then we fought over something stupid I don't even remember and the next thing I knew was that we were tearing the clothes off each other and..." John explaines but trails off then, falling silent for a second. He laughs softly before he continues: "The next morning I wanted to talk to him about it. He freaked and punched me right in the face and ran away. For two days I sat at home, thinking. I went to his place then and told him that we need to talk about it and before he could punch me again, I kissed the dear life out of him. He threw me out. Another day later I found him at my door. Ever since we're together. I guess somehow there has always been something between us, you know? More that only friendship. An attraction, a special chemistry..."

Again he falls silent and between the noise in the room there is suddenly a very unique sound raising from all the other sounds, one that puts a smile on John's face... a smile full of undisguised love. It is Randy's voice and as Stephen gazes over to Randy, he finds him smiling back at John with the same love.

There is a touch on his forearm, causing him to stiffen briefly.

"Stephen... why did you ask that?" John murmurs as he leans closer. "You don't need to tell me what has happened, but maybe I can help?"

This is John, one of the few persons he knows who he can trust blindly. Still, the moment he says it aloud it's not a secret anymore. He can't make it unsaid and that's frightening. But not to know what to do and be alone with this shit isn't any better. Shooting the man beside him a quick glance he nods again, more to himself than to John and tries to ignore the way his hair stand on end at the thought that he is about to spill it.

"Phil... came to me locker room after he quit and..." he slowly and very quietly admits. PG-version, he reminds himself, PG-version. His voice is even quieter if possible as he adds: "... and he... we... he... gosh..." Wonderful, here he sits, being reduced to a stammering idiot, yet from the corner of his eyes he sees a subtle change in the expression on John's face, telling him that the other man has a close idea to what has happened. "And he left me standing there like an idiot. I... I went to his house tha night and he told me something about a weird attraction he feels when we touch and then he sent me away. And now he's gone and I'm... I don't know..."

There, he has said it. And it makes everything even more... real. With a muttered fuck he's bracing his elbows on the table, hides his face in his hands and takes a shuddering breath. The hand that's settling on his shoulder, squeezing it gently, is comforting, encouraging and for the first time in days he doesn't feel alone.

"You feel that attraction, too, and now you're confused about it and scared as hell."

Not a question but a statement and all Stephen brings over his lips is a whispered yes. The hand moves from his shoulder to the back of his neck.

"You should go to him and talk things out, because this is something you can't just forget about. I know it's not easy but…"

"Fuck, no, it's not easy!" Stephen cuts him off, finally coming out of his hiding place behind his hands. "He hasn't left a note with his adress and a meet me there on it and I don't think he wants talk to me anyway. We had the chance back at his place, but instead he sent me away!"

His voice raises at the last words, becoming sharper with a hurt note lying in them and he snaps his mouth shut as a few of his co-workers turn around to him, gazing at him with a frown. John's hand has dropped to the table, but he doesn't seem to take the biting tone personally.

"Ever lost a thought about that he might be as shocked about what has happened as you are? Maybe he sits alone at home this very moment, scared and feeling lost?"

Pressing his lips to a thin line, Stephen looks away and tries hard to push the image of a sad, lonely Phil who is waiting for him aside, because he knows it's not like that. Phil is not waiting for him. Why should he?

"The only thing you should be sure about if you decide to go to him is… if you want to give this thing between you a chance if he wants it, too."

His head whips around at that comment, eyes wide as he hisses: "I'm not gay!"

John shrugs his shoulders.

"Neither are Randy nor I, yet we are together. And believe me, the mere idea of being with another man than Randy makes me feel sick to the stomach," John replies quietly, giving him a it's okay-smile. "You can snap at me if it makes you feel better, I don't mind. I know how hard this is. We're friend's, Stephen, and I just want to help you. You're not alone, okay? I'm gonna be there when you need me."

It is Randy who saves Stephen from once again not knowing what to say as he steps up to them and kisses John. And no one cares. It's nothing new to see them kiss, since they've never made their relationship a secret, but his view on it has changed now and somehow it is calming to realize that being with a man is no big deal.

With a crooked smile he watches them for a moment and as they eventually emerge from their very own bubble of love, he says: "I guess I shouldn't keep yer away from yer babe any longer. Thanks, John. And… I'm sorry."

John winks at him and pats his arm. And then they are gone. He stares after them, even long after they have vanished through the door and in a way he feels better, now that he has talked about it, knowing he isn't alone anymore. Yet…

What if… this weird attraction is… more?

The thought paralyzes him long minutes and he has no iea how long he's been sitting like this as his cell suddenly dances on the table, shaking him out of it and it takes him a second until he gets that it's a message. From John. He blinks once, twice. An address. In Chicago.

Phil's address.

Another message follows.

- Just in case you need it. -

His fingers close tighter around his cell as his eyes trail over the address again and again and while he does that, a voice deep within him gets louder, telling him that there is only one real option.

He needs a few days off.

On his way to Vince's office he carefully stores the address in his phone, hoping that this won't end up in a disaster.

x

Walking into the building, his eyes scan the lobby for the front desk. The lady behind it tells him that Mr. Brooks isn't at home at the moment and no, he hasn't said when he will be back.

Fuck.

The lobby is big and quiet as he sits in the waiting area, hoping that Phil hasn't decided to do a short trip. But maybe he would have told the lady that if he wouldn't be back in a few days? He hopes so.

He has hoped that Phil is at home, because then he wouldn't have so much more time now to think about the various scenarios that are replaying in his head. He's nervous, anxious. What if Phil doesn't give him the chance to say even one word? And there is a lot he needs to tell Phil.

First of all he wants to tell him that he isn't angry. He really isn't.

There are new questions though. Like, what if this attraction between them is more from his side, but has only been curiousity from Phil's?

Scrubbing his hands through his face he tells himself to stop thinking for a moment. The brooding over the past days and on his way here has been enough and his head is already hurting from it. He has already prepared a speech, hasn't he? No need to think himself to death.

His hands drop to his legs and he sighs wearily, but that sigh gets stuck in his throat as he sees Phil walk into the lobby, a grocery bag in his arm and gazing at his cell, obviously totally lost in his thoughts. Phil doesn't notice him as he passes him on his way to the elevators. Taking a deep breath Stephen grabs his stuff and follows him.

Phil is still gazing at his phone as he stands there, waiting for the elevator and for a second or two Stephen just stands behind him, trying to calm his heart down, that jumps in his chest.

"Phil," he says eventually, very quietly and for a second or two there is no reaction.

He can see the very second the word… and probably his voice… sinks in. The other man stiffens, before the hand holding the cell drops to his side. A bitter and with disbelief coated little chuckle if puffed.

"We need to talk," Stephen adds as quietly.

"I don't think so, Farrelly."

His fingers itch to grab his shoulder and turn him around. He doesn't though.

"Please, I…" he says instead but trails off as two women come to stand beside them.

The elevator doors open and the two women get in, but just as Phil wants to step in, too, Stephen grabs a handful of his shirt and holds him back, causing Phil to finally turn around to him. His hand is slapped away. It's not the slap that hurts, but the gesture itself.

"What is your fucking problem, Farrelly?!" he hisses, taking a step back to hit the elevator button. "I told you this at the house and I'm telling you this again now: I want you to go!"

"Phil…"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Shifting his stance, Stephen crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head a bit to the side, furrowing his brows as he realizes… he won't be able to reel his speech. Phil won't let him do it. He should have known it, shouldn't he?

The elevator doors opens again with a soft ping and Stephen watches as Phil takes a few steps backwards into it and hits a button, never leaving him out of sight and just as the doors are about to close… Stephen slips in, too.

Ignoring the frankly pissed glare from the other man, he quickly says before Phil can speak again: "I want to find out who yer are."

The words surprise himself, but, yeah, he wants to find out who Phil Brooks it. The real person behind that snarky façade. A shadow casts over those green eyes which he knows can be so… beautiful. Deep green orbs with a soft glow lying in their depths… but now those eyes are guarded, letting only a dull angeriness pass.

"No."

Phil backs away immediately as he takes a step closer and Stephen's not sure what he really has expected how this whole let's-talk-about-it-thing would go, but what he knows is that he wants Phil to agree to it, not to make him angry. And right now the other man obviously feels crowded and so he steps away from him again, raises his hands a bit with his palms turned up in a peace-offering.

"Phil… please, give me a few days…" he says softly, begging almost, but the shadows over the green eyes darkens even more.

"Fuck, no, not even five minutes!" Snapped, the tone almost biting enough to cause a bodily ache. "And now, fuck off before I call someone who kicks you out!"

Okay, so this doesn't work. The idea that pops up in his mind is a pretty daft one, but he's willed to grasp at straws here. With a bitter smile on his face, Stephen hits the stop-button. With a jolt the elevator comes to an abrupt stop.

Incredulous quietness follows.

Then: "Are you nuts?!"

Leaning back against the wall of the elevator, Stephen crosses his arms over his chest again, sticks his chin out defiantly and huffs: "Yer want to call someone to kick me out, Brooks? Go ahead!"

Quiteness again but not for long.

There is a sudden buzzing coming from a speaker, before a voice asks: "Do you need help, sir?"

Although Phil does his best to hold his guarded expression up, Stephen can see various emotions fleet through his eyes. One of them stays. Determination. And it unsettles him that he doesn't know what it means.

"No, we don't need help. Sorry, we accidently hit the button. Thank you," Phil says slowly and the voice coming from the speaker falls silent.

Somehow the fact that Phil hasn't asked for someone to come and kick an unwanted visitor out doesn't help a bit to make him feel more confident. A moment later there is another jolt and the elevator continues its way up.

"It doesn't change anything, Farrelly. I want you to go."

The sharp note has left the other man's voice, Stephen notices, and suddenly he sounds as weary as he feels himself. Beaten and tired and maybe he's only imagining it, but it also sounds a bit… lost.

"Why?"

The elevator stops again as it reaches the right floor. The doors part.

"Because I don't want to talk about it," Phil mutters as he walks out. "I'm not even sure if I like you."

He keeps walking without another look back. After a second of hesitation Stephen follows him, trying not to take the other man's last sentence personally, doing his best to ignore the sting it causes.

"Then yer shouldn't have started this," he replies quietly as he keeps following him.

A huff.

"It wasn't supposed to be a start," Phil snaps… but it lacks on intensity. "An end, that's what it should have been, but you just won't get that into that thick head of yours, you goddamn idiot."

"An end? How can what yer did be an end? Usually things start with something like tha!"

He almost bumps into Phil as he suddenly stops walking, producing a key from his pocket and with a sigh he opens a door Stephen hasn't even noticed they are standing in front of.

"Yeah, an end. I decided to move back to Chicago, sold my house, quit my job and somehow it felt like I need to act on that attraction towards you. A one-time thing, to finally end it." He speaks very hushed now and as he continues, Stephen notices how the other man's fingers grip the doorhandle tightly. "Stephen… why would you want to get to know me better?"

Soft. Phil's voice is soft and he doesn't miss a certain shy note in it and the unfamiliar way it sounds actually causes a funny tingle in his belly, bringing a slight dizziness along. It leaves him a bit unsteady on his feet and he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans to hide a light trembling. Funny, he thinks, that he has he has been ridiculously calm the whole time and now, all of a sudden, his heart begins to pound hard and he finds himself all scared again. But Phil had called him with his given name for the first time ever since their converstation has started and he is sure he can see the soft glow in his eyes… the one he's seen back at his locker room. And maybe Phil feels it, because he drops his gaze to the floor, turning his head a bit to the side.

"Because I feel it, too, okay? I feel tha attraction, too, and I can't and I don't want to ignore all this," Stephen says just above a whisper as he inches a bit closer very carefully, not wanting to make him feel crowded again. "What are yer afraid of? Tha yer might find out tha yer actually like me?"

Silence.

Then a whispered: "Yeah…"

His heart trips. He's not sure what hurts more: the thought that Phil might not like him or… that he is afraid to find out that he does like him but doesn't want to like him. It doesn't matter, because either way… it hurts.

"Would tha be so bad?"

He can't help the disappointment which is lacing into his voice, the slightly hurt tone that is coating his words and Phil gazes up to him, a tiny and sad smile on his lips as he lets go of the door and lifts his hand up as if he wants to touch Stephen. But he doesn't. Instead it falls to his side, clenched to a fist.

"It would make everything too goddamn complicate. If I could make things undone I would do it, Stephen, for both our sakes," he says hollowly and the tiny, sad smile stretches to a deeply bitter one. "I'm sorry…"

Stephen wants to say something to stop him as he retreates into the apartement , wants to hold him back, but he is frozen to the spot and the words get stuck in his throat. And then the door closes and he is alone in the corridor, confused, shaken. After a long moment he forces one word over his lips.

Phil's name.

A question, a plea… remaining unanswered…