Sooo… here we go, this is actually the penultimate chapter.

Enjoy, guys!

Two days. No… more... fifty-six hours. He tries hard not to count the minutes…

For the briefest of moments he hesitates as his brain registers the knock at the door to his locker room and there is this naïve part in him, whispering that it might be him… Phil… but there is also that realistic part, snorting loudly over his own naïveté.

"Come in," he calls and the smile on his lips is bitter, because it is not Phil who steps in.

And why should it be him? After that one message Phil has sent him, there has been… nothing. Nothing…

Time and distance, he reminds himself as he wills the bitter smile to become a warmer one, matching the one he finds on John's face.

"Great match," John says, but Stephen knows him good enough to know that he hasn't come here to congratulate him.

He has seen the question lying in the other man's eyes already an hour ago when he has met him on the corridor and he can still see it there, waiting to be answered. With a sigh he sits down on the bench and braces his forearms on his thighs, dips his head forward to scrub his hands through his face, before they drop to hang lifelessly between his knees. From the corner of his eye he sees John nod, sees him move to sit down beside him.

"You talked to Phil."

Not a question. Stephen nods slowly, once. John is quiet, probably waits for him to say something, but somehow his tongue suddenly feels heavy, refusing to form the words to say what has happened and it's not the few days at Phil's place itself that makes it so hard, but the time between that one message and now.

Time and distance, his mind whispers. Nothing is lost.

"Yeah," Stephen sighs, not looking up at the man at his side though. "Yeah, I talked to him. It was… difficult…"

For a brief moment he falls silent again and John, patient as always, waits for him to continue. And eventually Stephen does. And he tells him everything, from the very moment Phil walked into the lobby over Phil being sick to them lying on the couch together. Every detail. The words pass his lips and he doesn't even feel them on his tongue. Somehow he feels… detached. He knows it all has happened and he knows that he speaks this very moment, yet it's almost like he's not really here. It's strange, this feeling. Underneath lies a humming which has suddenly been there yesterday, making his nerves sing. Maybe because of the tension the waiting causes or maybe because the exhausiton the lack of sleep leaves behind.

John's eyes stay fixed on him while he speaks and he scoots a bit closer to Stephen, puts an arm around his shoulders to pull him against his side for some John-like comfort. He welcomes it, because every atom of him is missing Phil. He's missing him so goddamn bad that it hurts… a constant, dull and burning ache, always there since Phil isn't close anymore. There has been pain before, but this one is different, of a purer quality.

With another sigh he stops speaking, looks down at his hands. A minute? Maybe two, until he finds his voice again.

"What if he doesn't give me a chance?"

The fingers on his shoulder curl to a light squeeze.

"He opened up to you and he came to you to spend the whole night lying in your arms. I mean that's just… wow," John replies quietly. "A few days ago you haven't even been sure what to think about the whole thing and now? And Phil? I bet he's confused as hell right now. Just give him some time."

"Yeah," Stephen breathes. "Tha's what I keep telling meself."

Finally he gazes up to John and finds a soft smile there, one he has never seen before and it is so very soft and so very beautiful that for a brief moment he thinks that he can understand why Randy has fallen for John. He blinks, because he can't look away. And he wishes Phil would look at him like this, just once.

"Huh… you're in love with Phil Brooks," John murmurs and wonder lies in it, one that says: it's good the way it is. And suddenly that soft smile becomes a cheeky grin as the blond man adds: "So? How does it feel to be gay?"

The comment leaves Stephen staring at the other man for a long and scandalized second, before he lands his elbow in John's ribs, earning a low grunt and he can't help the tiny smile that tugs at his own lips. He feels better now. The situation hasn't changed but somehow… yeah, somehow he feels better…

The few meters from his car to the front door of his house have never felt so long like they do now while he walks them, absentmindedly fishing for his phone and the key. Whatever magic John has worked must have stayed behind in his locker room, because it's nothing left of it now. He's back at aching, at feeling worn out and depressed. Empty. He's back at hoping, praying, at counting the hours. His fingers itch to send a tweet that isn't directed at someone in particular, but holds a message between the lines for someone who might know how to read it.

"Time and distance," he whispers to himself as he shakes his head slightly to shake that stupid idea off.

No pressure. And a tweet would be exactly that. Fiddling the key into the lock, he opens the door while staring down at the screen of his phone for the umpteenth time within the last two days, only to find no message. A sigh. Heavy, weary. One word. Only one word… And just as he wants to step into the house, he suddenly can't. Stopped by a single word that almost drowns in his spinning thoughts. One word, barely a whisper.

His name.

Slowly his mind catches up with his ears, telling him that his name has actually been spoken, that it wasn't just imagination and slowly he turns around.

Phil… stands there. Not even two meters away.

His poor heart does a double-take and sets for a fast stumbling, pounding so hard against his chest that Phil might even hear it. But he doesn't care. All that matters is that Phil is here. Stephen knows that he's staring at the other man, probably wide-eyed and with a pretty much befuddled expression and there is a tiny voice knocking at the back of his mind, telling him to breathe.

And Phil… stands there. Still. With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and a holdall sitting beside his feet. The hood of his jacket is pulled down deep over his forehead, the shoulders hunched and tense under the fabric and the expression Stephen finds on Phil's face is guarded, careful, but those eyes, they are brimming with emotions again.

Every single fiber of his body screams to close the short distance and wrap his arms around the other man before he can decide to leave again and he wants to say something, like, please, please, come in, but no words come over his lips. The air between them fills with a certain awkwardness as he keeps staring at Phil in silence. If possible Phil tenses even more, drops his gaze to the ground, before he saves the situation by doing what Stephen can't. He speaks.

"You said I could come over for a few days…" he says hushed, shy almost and also a bit nervous.

Yes!

It takes him a second to understand that he has thought it instead of actually saying it aloud and so he nods quickly, before his mouth catches up, releasing a breathed yeah. Phil does not meet his gaze as he bends down to grab his bag, as he walks over to him after a moment of hesitation, but when he stands right in front of him, he pushes the hood back and does look up. Green meets blue and Stephen's heart stops stumbling and starts singing at the cute shyness he finds there, at that wonderful softness he has seen there before.

Stepping in, he beckons to Phil to come in, too. The door closes behind them with a quiet click that is still almost loud enough to shatter the fragile situation. The quietness is thick around them as Phil's gaze sweeps through the hall, while Stephen just keeps looking at the man his heart longs for, still not really understanding that Phil is here.

He's here. Phil… is here…

The humming which makes his nerves sing ever since yesterday changes to a happy, anticipated one and although the urge to just wrap his arms around Phil is almost overwhelming, he holds back. It isn't the right moment. The green orbs keep their aimless trail up for a second or two, before meeting Stephen's gaze again, uncertainty and maybe even a bit fear lying in them. And within a blink the moment shifts... and slips. The shadow that suddenly casts over those eyes is like a cold grip around Stephen's heart.

"I shouldn't have come here," Phil whispers and turns around… to leave.

It is a hand on his belly that stops him as Stephen steps up behind him, a broad arm circling the smaller man's middle and Stephen's poor heart still runs in a surge of sudden panic, even as Phil stands there unmoving. Phil's heart… it is running, too. He can feel it against his palm. There's not even a hands-breadth of space between them. A light trembling runs through Phil as he dips his head a bit forward, laces into the tiny sigh that drops from his lips. A sigh that shouldn't be there and Stephen wishes he could just kiss it away. He can't. But his fingers splay on the other man's belly, gently holding him close without pulling him closer, attempting to give comfort.

He can see that Phil has his eyes closed, has his lips pressed tightly to a thin line and his features look strained, as if he is fighting with himself. And maybe he is and Stephen waits in hopeful silence. Giving distance isn't an option anymore, now that the man he loves has come to him, but he can give time. Seconds, minutes. Hours. And even days if necessary as long as Phil stays here. He can wait because he doesn't want to screw this up. There is the scent of sandalwood with every breath and warmth, radiating off the body in his arm, seeping into his own aching one. Soothing.

Don't go. Please… don't leave me.

The words never leave Stephen's lips but he thinks them, as loud as even possible, hoping that they are heard. Somehow. His hand on Phil's belly, it tells the same. Stay. His free hand, hanging uselessly at his side moves then to hesitantly take the holdall out of unrestisting fingers and his poor little heart cries tears of joy at the tiniest of victories. There is a soft thud as the bag falls to the floor. The trembling is still there, Stephen notices, and Phil's breathing has quickened a little, has become a bit shallow, too.

His own breath though gets stuck in his throat… as he feels Phil bring a hand up to cover the one on his belly, while the one hanging at his side moves back a little to press into Stephen's. Fingers entwine… And again his heart cries in victory. Closing the gap between their bodies, Stephen rests his cheek against the raven hair and smiles a tiny smile of bliss as he feels Phil lean back against him.

"Don't go," he finally whispers, feels him press back a bit more. "I don't expect from yer to explain anything, okay? Yer are here and tha's the only important thing. Please stay. Please."

With the last word fading off in the falling quietnesss, Stephen turns his head a bit to place a fond kiss to Phil's temple and as the other man turns into the contact, he can't help but smile in utter happiness There are no cries of victory in his heart anymore… only joyful whispers of love. For long minutes they just stand there like a still-life and this innocent way of being close to the man he loves washes though him, leaving only a wonderful ease behind.

But eventually the moment breaks, slips away, as Phil breathes a weary sigh, but Stephen doesn't try to get a hold of it. Because he hopes it hasn't been the last moment together. Phil whispers that he's tired and he does look exhausted as he turns around and takes a step back and out of Stephen's ambrace. But it's only a tiny step that separates them. It is already late at night, so the next day will arrive soon anyway and Stephen nods and gives him a soft smile that faintly mirrors on the lips he so wants to kiss again.

Soon after Stephen stands in the doorway to his bedroom, saying his good-night to Phil who stands at the bed, looking at bit indecisive and uncertain with his arms more wrapped around himself than having them crossed over his chest, the shoulders hunched a bit again and fine lines of… Stephen doesn't know. Those fine lines are there around Phil's mouth and on his forehead. It's not really a frown and it doesn't look like it results from sorrow, worry or irritation. Pondering maybe?

When he leaves, he hears a hushed good-night coming from inside the room. The discussion about Phil having the bed, because the guest-room is unhabitable due to lots of things being stored in it, and Stephen sleeping on the couch has been a short one, with Stephen going out of it as the winner and the few resistance Phil has shown speaks of how tired he must be.

Stephen doesn't turn on the light as he walks into the living room. It's not necessary, because the moon dips the night in a silvery light that pours through the windows, floods the room. Blanket and pillow drop from Stephen's hand and onto the couch while his gaze finds the illuminated nightly ouside world. Nothing he hasn't seen before, but somehow… tonight it is different. For a brief moment his eyes find back to the doorway to the hall, before he makes himself comfortable on the couch, his gaze fixed on the night outside…

His mind begins to wander and it takes his spinning thoughts with it, wiping all the sorrow he has felt those past two days away and the tension, the strain fall off. There is still a chance that Phil will leave tomorrow and leave his life with it, yet he feels… good. Like, really good. Like, gosh, Phil is here with him. His heart jumps in his chest and the silly grin on his face threatens to split his face in half, but fuck, as if he cares. He has reason enough to grin like an idiot. And then that moment back at the hall… almost as if Phil wanted him to hold him back from leaving… But even now that Phil is in this house, he misses him. Ridiculous, isn't it?

And tomorrow? Should he wait until Phil speaks first? Should he simply act like it is the most normal thing in the world, this thing between them, the situation they are in? Should he ask him how long he plans on staying? Or maybe wait for Phil to mention it? Should he cook or maybe invite him for a nice dinner?

His heart jumps a bit more, squeals almost in happy excitement and he has to laugh softly about himself for being nothing more right now than an oversized giddy and lovesick teenager. This being in love… it feels so different from the few times before he has thought that he has lost his heart to someone. This time it feel so much more… real. And deep.

With the faint scent of sandalwood still lingering in his nose, he slips deeper under the blanket, while his eyes never leave the world outside. He is tired, but sleep is far away and he also doesn't want to sleep now. His mind quietens though until there is nothing left but those few but precious moments with Phil.

Half an hour? An hour? Maybe even longer… Stephen has lost count of time by the moment a quiet sound behind him digs though the ease that has fallen over him. A sound that comes closer… hesitates… comes closer… hesitates again… and he is almost afraid to turn around. Still he does, slowly sitting up a bit and turning towards the sound, he finds Phil standing not far from him, hands closed to loose fists, while his thumbs brush nervously along the sides of his index fingers. He's chewing on his lower lip. The uncertainty which has already been there the whole time, more or less in the background, shows more than openly on his face now.

"Yer okay?" Stephen asks quietly, while his heart it torn between jumping happily and tripping as he watches Phil move, coming closer again.

Phil walks in a slight curve around the couch, until he comes to stand at its far end with his back to the windows. The moonlight that's framing him like a halo dips the other man's face into a shadow, making it difficult to really see the expressions on it, but Stephen does see that something shifts, adding to the uncertainty.

"I can't sleep," Phil replies eventually as quietly and wraps his arms around himself.

Not sure what to do or to say, Stephen hesitates a moment, before standing up. Phil doesn't back away as he takes a step closer.

"Yeah," Stephen murmurs as his eyes roam the smaller man's face, locking with those green eyes. "Can't sleep, too…"

Taking another step closer, because he cannot not do it as his heart mercilessly yearns to get close, closer, pulling him along, he thinks that this is almost like a dream. And he finds no sign of discomfort on Phil's face as he stops right in front of him, close enough to feel the warm breath fleet over his skin. Phil's eyes are deep and vivid as he looks up to Stephen. Fascinating… beautiful… His features… soften… and now that they are standing so close, the shadow that has been veiling the face he has come to love is gone and what Stephen finds is... vulnerability. Oddly enough his whole being falls calm as he keeps looking into Phil's eyes. His heart slows down… and makes a decision.

Phil does not flinch as Stephen brings a hand up and… touches his face, lets his fingertips trail tenderly over a cheek and there is the feeling of one day old beard-stubbles against his digits and he feels the warm skin. And it feels so goddamn wonderful… The green eyes close and he watches as lips part slightly to allow the tiniest of sighs to pass as Phil turns his face into the caress. And Stephen is hopelessly lost, has been from the beginning.

Phil's name is a whisper on his lips as he cups the smaller man's face with both hands… and kisses him…

A/N

Yup, a cliffhanger. Save the best for last, neh? ;)

A review or two will be greatly appreciated!