Now, now, here comes part 5. Not the longest one, I know ;-)

Part 6 will have one or two surprises for you and I promise this isn't going to be drama until the end.

A short announcement: I'm gonna be on vacation the upcoming week (and I'm not having Internet there) and I hope to come back with a lot to post XD

Anyway, for all those who are waiting for Angel to be continued, I promise the next part will be the first thing I'm gonna post when I'm back.

Kisses, hugs and I love you! for all of you out there!

Never before in my life had I wished a situation to be a bad dream like I wished now. I prayed, begged that I would wake up any second, finding John's worried eyes hovering above me, hearing him tell me that the bad dream was over. Like he'd done every time I had been caught in a nightmare in the past three years. He used to place soothing kisses on my forehead, wrapping his arms around me so I could hide… John had always been my shelter, my stronghold…

It wouldn't be like that from now on. And this… I had managed to make a fucking nightmare become reality…

I had sent Stephen after John and now I was sitting here, alone, wishing I wasn't. This couch, it held so many memories of perfect moments together. Just like this whole house. Head bowed utter defeat, cradled in my hands, I closed my eyes against tears which wouldn't stop falling and a buzzing in my ears deafened me… almost.

There were steps, coming down the stairs and my chest clenched when I saw John come down, an unreadable expression on his face. For the briefest moment I felt a tiny flicker of hope that he maybe wanted to listen to me but it died away the second I noticed Stephen right behind him, because the expression I found on his face told me that John wasn't here to listen. To the pressure on my chest added a freezing cold grip around my heart.

Slowly I got up, torn between running away and pull him into my arms and hold on to him until he would forgive me, but all I could do was standing there, frozen to the spot and barely able to breath while the grip around my heart tightened to the point I was sure it would stop beating any second.

Stephen stopped him, at the bottom of the stairs. I watched him grab John's arm to hold him back and with a hissed stop he stepped into his way. And John stopped, the unreadable expression wavering just long enough to show deepest sorrow lying underneath.

It was my fault. I had done that to him.

"Don't do tha, John," I heard Stephen murmur and John's eyes flicked over to me, back to Stephen and then down to his hand.

There was a flash of determination in his eyes, causing heavy queasiness to roll through me and I had to sit back down as my knees buckled. And then John wanted to step around Stephen but again he was held back.

"No, I can't let yer do tha," Stephen said, his tone was almost threatening.

It seemed to work since John brushed a hand over his forehead, nodding, before he handed something over to Stephen. And all I could do was watch. I couldn't get up, couldn't speak… couldn't breathe… He turned to go back up again, gazing at me once more with eyes which sent a chill through me. I had never seen them like this. Broken. Hollow. Hurt, disappointed and… I averted my eyes then, because I couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand that he looked at me that way, that I had caused it. The tears came back to my eyes, or maybe they had never left. Did it make a difference…?

His steps were heavy on the stairs as he left and probably loud enough for him to miss as I said his name. A plea. Or maybe he ignored it. That, too, didn't make a difference because it didn't change a thing. He wouldn't come back.

After a moment the cushion dipped as Stephen sat down beside me with a helpless sigh. A hand settled on my shoulder, gentle and in an attempt to be soothing and I wished it would have worked because it fucking didn't. I felt a sob crawl up my throat and taking a shuddering breath I willed, fought it back down as I looked up to him. He met my gaze with a soft and compassionate expression. Again I wished it would work. But again it didn't. It fucking didn't.

A breathless and bitter chuckle passed my lips and it turned into that goddamn sob I had tried to hold back. My name was murmured and my shoulder was squeezed and I hung my head, once more cradling it in my hands.

It was a small movement I noticed from the corner of my eyes as he hid his other hand out of my sight that reminded me of something.

"What did he give you?" I whispered unsteady and there was a feeling in my guts that I shouldn't ask, but somehow I needed to know.

He moved his hand a bit more out of my sight and cleared his throat. I knew he would try to dodge my question.

"I texted to Phil to come and pick yer up," he said quietly and there was another squeeze.

"What did he give you?" I repeated, this time more insistently.

No answer.

"Stephen…!"

I wanted to snap at him but it sounded so goddamn pathetic that I almost had to laugh. His hand slipped from my shoulder, landing on his leg as a clenched fist.

"I don't know if…" Stephen began but trailed off as I whispered a please.

The hidden hand appeared in my line of sight. His finger unfurled, revealing… a small black box. A small… black box.

No…

It couldn't be, could it? What I thought it was?

No…

Reaching out with a trembling hand I took it, briefly closing my eyes against a sharp and stinging pain in my chest… running my thumb over the smooth surface of the box, over its edge… and then it snapped open.

My world stilled as my eyes fixed on the ring.

"He wanted to propose to yer tha weekend," he explained softly.

My mind, my heart… everything narrowed on that ring in my hand and suddenly Stephen's arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me tight against him. I was gripped by pain, my whole being was… pain.

The buzzing returned, swallowing his voice as he kept talking to me. The buzzing brought an odd numbness along… I didn't hear anything… didn't feel anything except numbness and the pain underneath… there was nothing but that ring and what it meant.

Nothing. There was nothing left…

At some point I faintly noticed being urged to get up from the couch and there were hands, steering me. My fingers curled around the small box while I was pushed and tugged out of the house to a car. Phil's car. Into Phil's car. Stephen's face appeared in my view, deeply worried, and he was talking to me. I didn't hear his words. The ride to Phil's place went by in a blur and again I was being steered, pushed and pulled until I sat on a bed.

But all the time… all that was really there… was that box.

Phil squatted down in front of me, giving me a soft shake and he was talking to me, maybe asking me something because he stared at me as if he expected an answer.

"I… want to be alone…"

Even my own voice was dimmed by the buzzing. Phil nodded, deep worry written all over his face, before he rose and left. Leaning forward I braced my elbows on my knees, cradling the black box in my hands and like before I ran a thumb over its smooth surface before snapping it open.

He wanted to propose to yer tha weekend…

I never mentioned my fear about us being found out about. Not one single time in those three years and in all that time John had been the perfect partner, unknowing about my fears. I never even gave him the chance to help me and find a way for us. And then... Sam. God... I still couldn't believe it had happened... It should never have... I never wanted it. I didn't even feel anything for her anymore...

And John… he'd really wanted to marry me, wanted to make it official and he would have given up everything. For me. I had known that before, that he would do anything for me. It's what he'd always told me and I had never doubted it, yet this ring made it so much more real. And I destroyed it. He probably thought now that I never wanted this to be the real thing, that I wouldn't have said yes if he'd asked me.

And maybe I really wouldn't have. God, maybe I really wouldn't have said yes to the man I loved more than my own life… Because of my goddamn stupidity and ridiculous fear and headless panic.

Crawling onto the bed I curled up to a ball, closed my eyes and the box, holding it safely against my heart… hoping that Stephen could somehow catch John's fall. I surrendered, letting pain and numbness weigh down on me for I didn't know how long until I slipped into a deep and lonely nothing.

x

I stood at the window, gazing down onto the yard when he came in and I kept my back towards him. There was no need to see his face, I already knew how he looked at me. I could almost hear it in the way he walked up behind me or feel it in the way his eyes bore into the back of my head.

"John…"

Just one word. But it was enough, this one word. A tinge of annoyance, lying underneath the lingering worry and his heavy Irish accent. I knew what he wanted to say and it caused a twinge of conscience deep in me. I shoved it aside and waited however, because he needed to say it and get it out of his system. And a dark part of me wanted him to say it, wanted him to give me a reason to start a fight… because I fucking needed something to distract me. I needed something else to focus on. Every single moment felt like walking on the brink and my feet were already slipping.

"Stephen," I replied, trying to match his tone.

A strange feeling crawled up my spine, making me shudder ever so slightly as I felt his stare intensify.

"What is wrong with yer?" he asked after a moment and to worry and annoyance added confusion. "Going down there to give him the ring and tell him yer don't need it anymore is downright cruel. What the fuck, John? Tha's not yer. The John I know wouldn't do tha."

I huffed, shaking my head slightly no, but didn't move otherwise. But he did, stepping closer to me. I could practically feel the hum of his presence at the close proximity. It was ridiculous, this whole thing. Suddenly Randy wasn't the Randy anymore I had known all those years and I wasn't the John Stephen knew. And he was fucking right. It was so unlike me to dig for a fight with one of my best friends for nothing and it for sure was unlike me to attempt hurting Randy intentionally, even if emotionally. Randy was the love of my life, goddammit… And I would have hurt him I Stephen wouldn't have stopped me.

"What are you, Farrelly, a saint?" I more or less spat, the words tumbling out of my big mouth before I could stop them.

I still needed a distraction and that dark part of me still called for a fight although I didn't really want to, yet I couldn't stop myself.

"No, John, I'm yer friend," he spoke very softly then and so very close, the annoyance fading away completely. "Just as I am Randy's friend and I'm not gonna watch yer hurt him on purpose. And this now? I know what yer are trying and I'm not gonna fight with yer."

His arms circled my waist then in a gentle embrace, making me flinch slightly at the unexpected gesture. A blink later I was being pulled back against his chest and I wondered at which point we had crossed the line of becoming tactile like this. I didn't mind though, because it wasn't the first time I noticed how much comfort his touch provided. It made me feel safe somehow.

I had to smile despite the situation. Stephen was one of a kind. Compassionate, empathic, a good listener, funny, smart. His presence worked soothing, his touch provided comfort. And maybe if I hadn't lost my heart to Randy, I might have lost it to Stephen…

"Calm down, Johnny, and then think about it again. Yer are in the goddamn lucky situation that yer can be with the one yer love. Don't throw tha away."

There was a note in his words, something sad… and I remembered what he'd told me. That he was in love… with a man. That man could count himself lucky…

"Who is it?" I asked quietly, and here was my much needed distraction.

He tensed against me and it betrayed his next words.

"What? I, uhm… what do yer mean?"

Knowing that he knew very well what I meant I added nevertheless: "The man you're in love with. Who is it?"

Maybe I had no right to ask him that, yet it helped me not to think about Randy and just maybe Stephen needed someone to listen for once. He wouldn't go and ask me to, since he wasn't the type of guy who bothered others with his emotional distress. Felling his arms around my waist loosen, I brought my hand to his wrists to stop his retreat.

"You know you can trust me. I'm not gonna tell anyone. And maybe it does you good to tell someone," I murmured while I held on to his arms, my eyes staying fixed on an invisible point in the yard. My voice was a mere whisper as I added: "Please help me not to think about him…"

It was poor and pathetic, I knew that. I never found out if he told me the name out of pity or because he had to get it off his heart finally… but it was that one whispered word that surprised me… yet not.

"Phil."

He rested his forehead against the back of my head and his hold on me got firmer again.

"A hard nut to crack," I stated, smoothing a hand over the warm and surprisingly soft skin of his arm.

Phil wasn't homophobic, I knew that, but he was… difficult. Reserved. He didn't trust anyone, bit everyone who tried to get to know him closer away. There were few exceptions. Randy, I and Stephen for example, and Stephen was the exception under the exceptions in my opinion because even at the moments Phil's mood was belowground, it was Stephen who could walk right into his orbit. The worst thing that could happen to him in those moments was that Phil called him big white oaf.

Stephen exhaled audibly and his warm breath trickled against my skin.

"I don't think tha nut can be cracked at all," he muttered crestfallen. A small and bitter laughter followed and then: "Three years ago I didn't even like him and now? Fuck…"

"Hey, come on, he lets you closer than anyone else. It's a first step," I tried to encourage him. "You think he has an idea?"

"No, I don't think so," Stephen sighed. "I don't know what to do about it, John. Hope tha I'll fall out of love over the time? I'm sure if I try to… get closer to him tha way, he'll kick me out of his life."

I knew what he felt. It was what had tortured me all the time I had been in love with Randy before I had told him the truth. And afterwards that torture changed because he'd known it all the time, accepted it and the way he acted around me left me wondering if there was more from his side. But ever since the moment I had realized that I loved him my love for him had grown. There had never been the chance of falling out of love… although I had wished for it so often that at some point I had stopped counting.

I couldn't tell him what to do and so I settled for the truth, no matter how unpleasant it was to hear.

"Whatever you decide to do, it'll hurt, Stephen. It'll kill you if you don't tell him and it'll kill you if you do and he doesn't react well. Huh, even if he accepts it it's gonna hurt. Unless he feels the same. I know it's not of help but it's the truth."

And even if he feels the same you can't be sure it won't hurt, I thought bitterly.

He pressed closer to me then and tightened his hold on me, breathing my name right beside my ear but it didn't carry anything sexual. It was a help me that lay in it and I almost had to laugh at us both for being so pathetic. But we had our reasons, right?

"Yer think yer can live without him?"

It was one of the things I tried so hard not to think about and leave it to Stephen to voice it.

"No," I replied and it was perfectly contradictory to my actions. "But right now I can't live with him."

"Yer gonna regret it if yer lose him."

"Yeah, but what if it happens again? He knows that he can't control himself when he drinks too much and still he does it," I huffed, tilting my head back against his shoulder.

"Randy can change, no one knows tha better than yer. He's gonna do anything for a last chance. When he called me… yer should have heard him, he was… is so desperate and scared. Jesus, John, he loves yer," Stephen said insistently, his hushed voice still close to my ear and loud enough to cut deep into my heart.

"I don't know, Stephen. I don't know if I…" I stopped mid-sentence and swallowed hard as the pain again threatened to consume me. "Maybe…. after some time I can… try… to live with it. I really don't know…"

He breathed a kiss to my temple and I couldn't help but turn into it.

I felt his lips move softly against my skin as he murmured: "I know it hurts but for yer sake and for Randy's sake… just think about it."

Silence, for a minute, maybe two. That kind of silence I couldn't stand, an uneasy, tense one. A guilty one.

In an attempt to lighten our mood a bit I tried to come up with an amused note as I spoke again: "You know, Farrelly, holding a man like this and kiss him is totally unmanly and gay."

He played along because I could hear the smile in his voice as he replied: "Says the one with the boyfriend. Yer want me to let go?"

"No," I whispered because somehow it felt like his arms were the only thing that kept me from falling apart.

I was grateful that he was here and I was also grateful that Randy had told him to come here with me, to stay with me. And maybe the moment would come when I would be able to thank him for it.

For a long while we stayed like this. Afterwards he went to the guestroom, giving me time and room to think although all I wanted and tried was not to think.

The following night weighed heavy on me. I just couldn't stop thinking but I begged I could, just as I wished I could stop feeling. At some point along the night Stephen came in, his quiet steps almost sounding apologizing as he walked up to my bed. The mattress dipped as he crawled in, settling beside me with a sigh and it had probably been his own little personal hell which had made him do that. There were no words, not touches. Only being there.

And even though I could feel him close to me, the place beside me had never felt so unbearably empty…

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