So this is part 3 and all beginnings are difficult, aren't they? I hope you like this part better? ;-)

Anyway, I keep on going and try to measure up to your expectation :3

Enjoy!

For hours I had been sitting there, lost on Stephen's big couch. Curled up in the corner of the backrest and armrest with my knees drawn up to my chest and wrapped in a comforter to hide away from everything. I couldn't hide from the hurt and the pain though, the desperation and the sorrow which were getting worse every minute Randy wasn't there and I had surrendered to it, hoping that I would eventually reach the point of not feeling anything at all. For hours I had been staring at the opposite wall, trying not to think. Impossible. Over and over again I tried to find the point when we had lost control over the situation, at which point our life had started to come apart at the seams without us noticing it. For those hours my mind replayed that disastrous fight again and again, showing me pictures of a man who wasn't my Randy. I always thought there were no secrets between us, so why didn't he just talk to me sooner?

Randy…

I still couldn't believe it. That it was over. I didn't want it to be over, I wanted him back. My whole body screamed to hold him, kiss him, be with him, refusing to accept that it maybe would never happen again. Taste him, feel him with my body, heart and mind. He'd been my lifeline. And ever since I had left the house I had hoped he would send me a message. Anything. But my cell remained relentlessly quiet…

Stephen stepped into my view, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch and with a tiny nod he held a mug in my direction. Neither was I hungry nor thirsty and when I made no move to take it, he nodded again and with a sigh I gave in. I took a hesitant sniff and grimaced at the strange scent.

"It'll do yer good," he said quietly. "Herbal tea. Valerian."

Looking up from the mug a pang of guilt rang through me as I realized how worried he still looked. There were dark circles around his eyes as if he hadn't found sleep last night and the frown and the furrowed brows seemed to have become everlasting. I hadn't noticed it this morning. I should have though.

"I'm sorry," I muttered and took a sip, grimacing again. "I'm sorry for being a burden and I'm sorry that you have to worry so much…"

"Ssh, don't say tha," he hushed me, giving me a tiny, crooked smile that vanished as fast as it came.

Stephen had canceled all his appointments, only to be here with me. It was what he had done yesterday and also today. Just being around. Hour after hour he waited in silence, every once in a while coming in to make sure I was okay and when I wanted to talk… we talked, although most of the time he only listened. I owed him… a lot.

"How are yer feeling?"

"It hurts," I whispered. "I miss him so…"

And then Stephen leaned towards me, his hands closing around mine and the mug to stop the trembling. When had my hand begun to tremble?

"Why don't yer call him?" he asked as he took the mug out of my hand, putting it away only to close his hands again around mine, inching a tad closer.

His touch was soothing…

"Why would he want to talk to me? He made his point pretty clear."

My voice was unsteady as I spoke. It didn't make it any better that I was afraid that there would be no answer if I called or sent a message. Or that he might tell me to fuck off.

"We're talking about Randy. Freaking out about shit, kicking bullshit off, putting his foot in his mouth. We both know he's an idiot," he stated while shrugging his shoulders.

"No, he's a selfish bastard," I hissed without much intensity.

"No, he's not. Well… okay, sometimes he is," he admitted, again shrugging his shoulders. And then he added very softly: "But yer love him."

My gaze dropped to the floor as I murmured: "Yeah…"

"And yer want him back."

"… yeah…" I breathed but I was almost sure that my heart was crying Randy's name loud enough for Stephen to hear it.

"Then call him. Talk to him."

I shook my head no and willed my eyes to meet Stephen's again, muttering: "He said he wants a break and… you should have seen him, Stephen. This man wasn't Randy, he… this man was a stranger. I've never seen him like that before."

Now it was his turn to shake his head no.

"I'm sure he didn't actually mean it, John."

"Yeah? Then why doesn't he call me? Why doesn't he send a message? Obviously he did mean it and…"

The tapping of his fingers against my hand cut me off.

"He's scared."

"Scared, huh? Yeah sure…"

"He is scared, John. He told me tha."

For a long moment all I could do was staring at him as the information slowly sunk into my overstrained and exhausted mind. Stephen had talked to Randy and he hadn't told me earlier? And… Randy? If he had talked to Stephen, why couldn't he… talk to me?

"You… you talked to him? When?"

"This afternoon."

"Is he… okay?" I wanted to know, my words a mere whisper.

"No. He's not. By far not. And I told him tha yer also are far from okay," he murmured.

Well, that was an understatement. Right now I was so far from okay that I wasn't sure if I would ever be okay again. But Stephen's words stirred a flicker of hope deep in my chest.

"Did he say where he is?" I asked then and a part of me wished that Randy was still at home.

"No. And I didn't ask him."

The room fell quiet while Stephen kept holding my hand and I was pondering if I should go home tomorrow or stay here for a few more days. What if Randy hadn't left? I doubted that it would be that easy, that he would wait for me at home and everything would be good again after a talk. Yet if you loved someone so much like I loved him, wasn't there always the tiny hope that a simple sorry could make things alright again?

A memory popped up in my busy mind. It was that first time I really kissed him. That moment he made me snap, back then in my living room, when I pinned him against the wall and literally kissed some sense into that stubborn and indecisive mule of a man. Maybe I should just have done the exact same thing as he told me that he wanted a break…

It was my name being whispered that made come back to the here and now and I noticed how Stephen's hands tightened a little around mine and then he scooted even closer. I watched him shift, watched as he angled his left leg, squeezing it between my legs and the backrest of the couch and as he stretched his right leg out, aligning it with the edge of the couch, practically framing me. And when his eyes locked with mine… I found confusion in them. And suddenly the expression on his face softened and the worry faded.

"John, I… how did yer know tha yer are in love with Randy?"

Now, I hadn't expected that and wanted to ask why he wanted to know it, but at the lingering confusion in his eyes I decided otherwise.

"Uhm… I felt giddy and a warm fuzzy feeling when he was around and tingle when he touched me," I began. "I wanted to have him around all the time and be as close to him as possible. Those were the first signs. And at some point I noticed my heart pound fast and heavy every time I saw him and I wanted to kiss and touch him and… well, the whole package if you know what I mean. I felt bad when he wasn't close to me and happy when he was. I don't know, I guess I felt just like anyone else who is in love."

He hummed and nodded.

"Wasn't it a problem for yer tha he's a man?"

His voice dropped to a whisper as he asked it and I began to wonder what was going on… the way he sat there and held my hand, his questions…

"In the beginning it was a big problem," I replied slowly, roaming his face to find a hint. "But the more I realized that I loved him, the easier it was to accept it. Stephen… what's wrong?"

His eyes dropped to our joined hands and a strange urge to pull my hand out of his grew in my guts, but this was Stephen, my friend and I trusted him, so I willed myself to hold still. He tilted his head a tad to the side and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but it was only a sigh that passed his lips. It couldn't be what I was thinking, could it?

"Are you… are you in love with a man?"

I got a slight flinch in response and knew I had touched a sore spot. Okay, that was surprising. Not impossible, but definitely surprising. My light tugging at his hands made his eyes snap back up to me again, those blue eyes wide and unsure.

"I'm not sure," he replied then nervously. "I noticed something and it feels like it's getting stronger."

My hand was being turned palm up gently, almost fondly and once again his eyes dropped to our hands as he ran his thumbs over my palm. I had to swallow hard against a sudden lump in my throat.

"Stephen…" I rasped and saw him shake his head no with an oh so small smile on his lips.

"Don't worry, it's not yer or Randy," he calmed me and my unspoken worries. "It's just… to touch yer like tha feels normal and absolutely unspectacular, as funny as it sounds. It feels completely different to touching him. I haven't held his hand like tha, he has no idea about what I… feel… but when we shake hands or I pat his shoulder or he pats mine… there is something…"

Oh yeah, I knew what he meant and he was about to walk seeing into plenty of problems but I knew as well that it wasn't a thing you could switch off just like that.

"Do you know if he's straight?"

"I know tha he has no problems with homosexuality but tha doesn't necessarily mean he's bi or gay, right?" he muttered.

"Do I know him?" I asked and he nodded again, but didn't say a name.

I decided not to dig deeper since he obviously wasn't ready to say who it was. With a sigh he reached out for my mug, handing it over to me again and scooted back to the other side of the couch, where he pulled his knees up to his chest to rest his chin on top of them. The worry was back in his eyes and it was now that I realized that for few moments our little change of topic had managed to distract me. But only for those few moments. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly and breathed out audibly.

"Give him some time. He loves yer, John. Yer know tha, don't yer?"

A breathless chuckle fell from my lips. Not a second I had doubted that Randy loved me and maybe that made everything even worse.

"Yeah, I know. But I guess sometimes love just ain't enough. You know, I really thought we were meant to be forever. It was perfect," I said absentmindedly, gaze fixed on the cooling tea. "Huh, I wanted to propose to him. And I wanted our fourth anniversary to be the day when we get married. Nothing official, just a small ceremony for us and a handful of special people. And now? Nothing is left…"

I trailed off and Stephen didn't say anything, only gazed at me with a compassionate expression, waiting for me to continue. But I couldn't. I couldn't say even one more word. Only a small keening sound passed my lips and I closed my eyes against a sudden burning in them, hiding my face against my knees. The mug was taken from my hand again and the comforter was being pulled tighter around my shoulder. Faintly I heard Stephen murmur my name as he smoothed a hand over my hair.

I had planned on proposing to Randy this weekend and the ring I had bought for him was sitting in our closet, hidden between some of my old sweaters. Waiting to be revealed. It was captivating in its simplicity, dark grey and broad, the surface slightly hammered and matted and it looked as classy as it looked strong. It matched Randy perfectly. It had been the first thing I thought the second my eyes fell on it.

I wanted to ask him after a nice dinner at his favorite Italian, that small restaurant with the nicely hidden table in the far corner of the room… between the main dish and the dessert. It would have been the perfect moment at the perfect place…

Time passed and I had no idea how long I had been sitting like this, caught in this surge if memories, thoughts, feelings and tears when Stephen pulled me gently up from my place and steered me to the guestroom. He tucked me in and sat beside me on the bed, back against the headboard. A broad hand settled on my shoulder and again its touch worked soothing. At least a bit.

Quietness spread, filling the room just like the silvery moonlight falling through the window. My eyes found the moon, pale and cold, familiar and beloved because it was an image I had seen so very often in uncountable nights. Nights I had spent holding Randy close to me, with my eyes fixed on the moon over his shoulder. Watching over him while he slept peacefully, listening to his breathing. Feeling him…

It was the last thing I knew before I drifted off. That and the soothing hand on my shoulder, telling me that I wasn't alone…

x

Pain. Glaring, pounding, threatening to make my head burst. It was the first thing I became aware of as I came around from a black nothing. With it came acute sickness and I managed to roll over to the edge of the bed at the last second before I threw up. My stomach cramped, making me retch so hard that I couldn't take a breath in between and the bitter, sour taste of bile on my tongue made it almost impossible to stop. By the time I began to feel dizzy I was sure I would choke on my own vomit and the lack of air. And maybe it would have been better… but as things went, my stomach relaxed in the last possible moment and I drew a deep breath, choking fading into hyperventilating in a blink. Blindly I reached for a pillow, pressing in onto my face, breathing into it in an attempt to get control over my breathing and after what seemed like an eternity it worked.

I pulled the pillow away and groaned lowly as bright daylight hit my eyes. I wanted to turn away from it, but every tiny movement aggravated the pain in my head and so I narrowed my eyes against the light. I felt like dying. I felt sick, my head was about to explode, my body hurt and my still alcohol dazed mind reached out to the one person who could make it better... Johnny… and the tears which had so adamantly refused to fall the day before now spilled from my eyes, hot and biting. John wasn't here and maybe I would never again be with me. Rolling onto my side, curling up to a ball I stifled the cry of pain as I buried my face in my pillow and with a shaking hand I pulled the blanket over my head, surrendering to the influx of agony and desperation that left me sobbing and trembling.

Eventually I managed to get a grip on me and although I felt much too weak to get up I crawled out of the bed, groaning, still trembling and it was now that I really realized that I was in a bed, not on the couch... stark naked and I couldn't remember how I had gotten up here. I couldn't remember anything at all after I went down and got me something to drink… Pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes I breathed through another wave of flaring pain and sickness as I sat up, ignoring my body which demanded to get back under the blanket. I had to get up and back home, to John and… beg him for forgiveness.

Somehow I made the way to the bathroom without throwing up again or tripping over my own feet and the first thing I did was rinsing my mouth, brushing my teeth, rinsing my mouth and brushing my teeth again until the nasty taste of the bad idea of drinking my problems away was gone. Rummaging in the medicine cabinet I found some painkillers, willed them down my throat and fought my stomach which tried to get rid of them again. And because I couldn't face John the way I smelled right now I stepped under the shower, not sure if it would do my headache good but to my surprise it cleared my mind and worked soothing, the pounding in my head fading a bit.

After getting out of the shower I stepped in front of the mirror, for the first time feeling up to take a look at me since I got in here and… my world shattered for the second time within three days. I refused to believe what my eyes showed me. This couldn't be. This…

"No… nonono, god no, please…!" I breathed in utter disbelief and panic and I had to brace on the sink as my knees threatened to give out under me.

Lifting a shaking hand up to my neck I stared at a purple spot there. I knew it was a vain attempt yet I rubbed my fingers over the spot in the ridiculous hope I could wipe it away. Tears welled up in my eyes again, running down my cheeks while I kept rubbing at the hickey until the skin around it was red and sore, whispering no over and over again like a mantra, pleading, begging…

Minutes later I sat on the floor of the bathroom, hunched over. Crying again. Still. Trying hard to remember what had happened after I had started to get drunk the night before but there was only nothing. This couldn't be. It couldn't be real. I loved John and I would, could never cheat on him yet the hickey was there!

"Fuck…!"

I had cheated on John, goddamn I had cheated on him, had betrayed him…

"Oh god…"

If possible reality became more real with every torturing second and I cradled my head in my hands, terrified beyond words under its crushing weight.

"John," I whispered tearstained. "Johnny… I'm so sorry… so sorry…"

If there had ever been the tiniest chance that he would forgive me… I had destroyed it. No way he would, could forgive me this. I wouldn't forgive me if I was him. I should never have come here. I had known it.

My head snapped up and over to the door. I had to get out here, away. Back home. I needed to talk to John, to explain and apologize. I owed him at least that, even if it meant that he… that it… would be… over. That I would lose him for good.

A wailing sob dropped from my lips as I hung my head, resting my forehead against my knees and hit the floor with my fists, breathing harshly for a minute or two before I found the strength to get up again. Hoping Sam wouldn't notice me leaving I threw my clothes on, grabbed my stuff and fled from her house.

Jumping in my car I drove just around the corner and out of view before I grabbed my cell, hitting Stephen's number. For much too long seconds nothing happened. But then I heard his voice on the other end of the line. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in my throat.

"Randy?" he asked confused.

I swallowed hard and willed my voice to work.

"Is… is John still with you?" I croaked.

"Uhm, yeah. But he's about to head back home and…"

"Go with him," I interrupted him, the anguish I felt showing up in my voice. "Please."

"Home with him? God, Randy, what happened?" he asked deeply worried and I knew he didn't mean the part he already knew.

"Just… promise that you go with him. Please. I… I need your help when I get back home," I replied and my voice was close to breaking. "I messed things up, Stephen. I've ruined it…"

There was a short pause and I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to bite back the still falling tears.

His voice was a whisper as he asked: "Randy… what did yer do?"

Again the words got stuck in my throat as I wanted to tell him… it… and when I finally pressed the words out they were wrapped in a sob.

"I… I think I… slept with Sam…"

A shocked gasp. And then utter silence and I expected him to end the call and break off our friendship. He didn't though.

"What the fuck? Haven't you pulled enough bullshit on him already, you goddamn bastard?" Stephen growled suddenly and I almost wanted to thank him for not hanging up on me. There was an angry groan through the line and a brief catch in his enraged breathing before he added with a slight tinge of confusion: "Wait, what do you mean, you think you slept with her? Why were you with her at all?"

"After John left I didn't want to be alone and… I wanted to see Alanna but she's with her grandparents and Sam offered me to stay in the guestroom," I whispered, wishing I would never have accepted her offer. "And yesterday I got drunk and… this morning I found a hickey on my neck but I can't remember what happened after I started drinking… Stephen, I need to know that you're gonna be there for him when… I have to go."

"Christ, Randy…" he whispered in reply. "Okay. Listen, I'm gonna call Phil and I want yer to go to him… if John sends yer away. Yer hear me? I want to be sure tha yer are not gonna do anything stupid. Promise me tha yer go to him."

I promised him and then he told me that he had to go and talk to John, to tell him that he would come with him. The silence as the line fell dead hit me like a blow because it meant that it was time.

Time to go home and face what I had caused.

The ride back home seemed to take forever and it gave my mind the time to play uncountable scenarios of what would happen the second I faced John and in between that horror it showed me memories of the times when we were happy. Again and again I wiped the tears away from my cheeks, blinking to clear my vision.

It… we had never been supposed to end… and all I could hope for was that one day he would be able to forgive me enough that we could be friends again…

John's car wasn't there when I pulled into the driveway. In a way I was glad because it gave me the time to get some of my stuff and find the guts to tell John what had happened. As I dug through my closet I found… John's old baseball cap, the one which I had kept all those years… I ran a finger over the worn fabric, before I took it and placed it on top of my clothes.

And then I sat in our… his… living room, waiting. Terrified. My heart was lurching in fear, pounding painfully against my chest and it stole my breath. I had no fucking idea how to start, what to say. I'm sorry, I love you? Yeah, sure… that would make things undone and good again. Emotionally stunted was an understatement.

My eyes roamed the room. Everything here made me feel safe and good. This house… it was my home. John was my home and I had no idea how to go on without him. I simply should have trusted him. Fuck, I knew John always fixed the shit I cause, made things alright again no matter what had happened. Always. He'd done it so damn often that I owed him more than I could ever give him back in one lifetime. It had always been like that. And I should have known that he would have done it again… if I had only given him the fucking chance. An insight that came much too late.

Once again.

Slowly I got up and walked over to the counter, gaze fixed on something I had seen so often in the past three years that at some point I had stopped being aware of it. A picture. It showed Ally sitting on John's shoulders while leaning over to me to give me a kiss. The way John looked at me that moment, the way I looked at him… pure and undisguised love… and I remember that I held his hand when Sam took it. Our family portrait, as John always used to say.

It was the sound of the opening door that made me freeze in cold fear while my eyes stayed fixed on the picture, holding on to the perfection that had once been John and me…