Ste stared after the disappeared figure, swallowed up by the nightclub. What now, he wondered. Back to his empty flat? Back to the crowded pub? He hadn't really known why he wanted to come to the club with Ash, and now he was even less sure.
He'd been here before, hadn't he? Impossibly in love with this man, and certain that he loved him back. But somehow, that was never enough. Somehow, there was always a reason that Ste couldn't be allowed to just love and be loved. He felt a flash of anger, kicking violently at the crack in the kerb where he had just watched the beetle run for cover.
"OW!" he shouted, into the night, feeling the pain shoot from his toe up his leg. The pain made him angrier and, ridiculously, he kicked the kerb again.
"Bloody hell!" he gasped, staggering slightly this time.
He hobbled a couple of steps and sat down on the ground, a few feet away from that infuriating crack. Who was in charge of filling cracks in the pavement anyway? Because they weren't doing a very good job.
He sat, letting the anger deaden as the cold crept from the grey concrete through the denim of his jeans and into his bones. He might have sat there for five minutes, staring dejectedly at the ground in front of him, the silence of the night gently hushing his short-lived rage.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket, waking him from his stupor.
"YOU HAVE ONE NEW VOICE MESSAGE," he read from the screen.
Doug.
The squeezing feeling he got inside when he thought of Doug, it felt like someone was wrapping a tight hand around his heart. Doug, the kind and brave man who had walked hand-in-hand with Ste, generously loving him in unmeasured amounts, never rationing, never withholding, never inventing reasons to avoid happiness.
He hadn't lied to him, Ste told himself, desperately. When Doug asked him to marry him, Ste wanted to. He could see their life together. He pictured it like one of those Disney films that Leah and Lucas watched. Full of colour and smiles and teamwork.
Not real, he thought.
Maybe that was the problem. That wasn't real life. In his experience, real life was violent – Terry, himself, Brendan. Real life was heartbreak, and pain, with rare little glimpses of happiness shining through like beacons of perfection. Disney films were make-believe.
Sighing, he dialled his voicemail and pressed the phone to his ear.
"Hey Ste," the American accent came across the line. "Just calling to check in… again. Listen, I'm so sorry Ste. I'm so sorry for leaving like that. I wish that you would just call me back… I know you're angry, and I'm angry, but we're going to get through this… Because we love each other… I love you. Anyway. Call me."
Ste didn't wipe away the errant tear that slid down his face. He could see Doug's face, as he spoke. His startling blue eyes, round and emphatic and pleading. His beautiful full lips, trembling as he rushed through the last few words. He loved him too, he did. He loved him, but…
Ste gave an involuntary shiver, the cold reaching up to his back now, leaking underneath his hoody and making gooseflesh of his skin. But what? Shouldn't that be enough, just to love him and be loved by him? Shouldn't that be better than this, sitting alone in the gutter outside a nightclub? Better than hoping for some scrap of affection, of attention, that might never come? Better than letting every shred of self-respect that he had fought relentlessly to build be peeled away again?
Before he knew what he was doing, he was back on his feet and his fingers were dialling.
"Come on, Doug," he muttered, trying to ignore the panic rising in his chest as the ringtone continued. "Pick up, pick up…"
"Hello?" a voice crackled through the line after the tenth ring. "Hell... Hello, Ste?"
"Doug?" Ste cried. "Doug, can you hear me?"
"It's… bad line," the voice crackled, breaking up as it came. "…you? What's… deli?"
"Doug?! Doug, listen, I'm calling to tell ya, I love you too!"
Static crackled back at him.
"What?" the voice asked. "…hear you!"
"I SAID," Ste bellowed frantically into the phone and into the night. "I LOVE YOU!"
"I… you too!" Doug shouted back, joyfully.
Then the line went dead.
Ste stared at the phone in his hand, inanimate. He was breathing hard. From the shouting, maybe, or from the slowly receding panic. But he'd done it. He'd chosen Doug. He was safe now.
He dropped back onto the ground, not able to move immediately. That was it done, right? He gave his shoulders a little shake and nodded. He'd made his choice. Ste Hay had spent enough of his life in the dark. He wanted to live in a Disney film now.
He was so lost in what had just happened that he didn't even notice the rowdy group of students making their way noisily down the road until they were on top of him.
"Boss!" Barney cried in delight, toppling over onto the ground beside him and throwing an affectionate arm around his shoulder.
"For Christ's sake, Barney, not again," Will admonished, though he wasn't exactly exemplifying sobriety himself.
He leaned over and grabbed an arm, pulling unsuccessfully on it. The dark-haired one (Scott maybe?), grabbed the other arm and together they managed to right their curly-haired associate. Quite fit, Ste thought, gazing appreciatively at Scott.
He climbed to his feet as well, realising he had been sitting there for well over an hour by now.
"Boss, come with us for a drink!" Barney demanded. He had thrown his affectionate arm back around the shoulders of his employer in their new-found standing position.
"Barney, are you sure you're going to be able to work tomorrow?" Ste asked suspiciously.
"Moi?! But of course, but of course!" he protested. "It's a well-established method, Boss, drink as much as you like but stop before eleven! Foolproof!"
"Right," said Ste, unconvinced. He had a very clear recollection of Barney smashing a tray of cups when in the full of his senses today. Barney with a hangover was not something he looked forward to experiencing.
"Exactly! Excellent! To the drinking parlour then?"
Ste hesitated for a moment. It was still only nine thirty, he realised. And he didn't really want to be alone with his thoughts any more tonight. He felt exhausted from thinking.
"Yeah alright," he agreed. "Where're ya headed to then?"
"ChezChez," said Will, pointing across the road. "Ash is working tonight."
"Right," said Ste. He dithered for a minute. But he'd already made his choice, right?
With Barney's arm slung around his shoulder, Ste made his way to the door of the club and stepped inside.