Come Back To Me

It did not take long for John Paul and Craig to fall into a, if not destructive then at least abnormal, routine. Craig would work in the day while John Paul recovered from the night before, they'd eat in silence and when John Paul came in at any and all hours of the morning, Craig would leave him be. They'd sleep at opposite extremes of the bed - Craig even changing sides so John Paul's would be closet to the door. It felt colder than if he'd been in it alone - the gulf so feeling much bigger than the few inches it was in reality. Everything that was going to happen didn't: John Paul did not enroll at Trinity like they had planned, they certainly weren't in their 'honeymoon' period in the bedroom or in their demeanors and they hadn't had a real conversation since John Paul's outburst about nearly killing Niall. Matthew. Whatever.

John Paul came into the kitchen. Patrick and Craig were already drinking at the bar when he poured himself a coffee and sat opposite them. He looked like hell, but Patrick and Craig had stopped pointing that out a few nights back. It never did any good.

'No Lia?' Craig resumed his conversation with Patrick - another thing they had learnt was that to try and engage him in conversation never worked either. Or trying to get him to eat. He'd lost weight - too much caffeine and not enough calories.

'Out all night. Maybe a guy?'

'She said anything to you?'

'Like she would!' Patrick looked at his watch. 'Well, gotta go. Later?'

'Sure.' Patrick nodded at John Paul who returned the gesture. Craig and Patrick shared a meaningful look before he was gone and it was just the lovers left in the flat.

Craig decided even arguing was better than the silence.

'So...'

'I'm going to get in the shower...'

'No!' Craig had grabbed John Paul's hand before he could think and felt it tugged out of his weak grip with a strength he was sure someone so thin should not possess. 'Sorry! I just... talk to me. Please?'

It was the please that did it - Craig never begged, not even in bed, not even when he was about to lose everything. Hell, that was why he had lost everything. So John Paul conceded and sat back down, eyes on his boyfriend once again. It felt strange to call him that, even in his own mind, when nothing they had shared had felt like that in so long. But John Paul wasn't allowed to miss it, not when it was his fault it was lost.

'How was the club last night?' Feeble, but getting there.

'Fine.' Pause. 'How's school?'

'Good. Better than it should be, I think. Are you supposed to enjoy school?'

'Nothing can be wrong that makes you happy.'

There was another pause, more pregnant this time. Recently it was as if even the most superficial conversation between them would turn so intense so quickly that neither were quite ready for it. By the time they'd fought their way out of it, they had run out of things to say.

'I really should take that shower.' John Paul got up, and was stopped this time not by Craig's hands but by his words.

'I thought I might come to the club tonight.'

John Paul turned, a blank expression. 'Yeah?'

'Would it bother you? If I came I mean.'

John Paul desperately wanted to say no, that Craig coming would mean everything, that they were going to be fine. He wanted so much to see that glimmer of hope in Craig's eyes swallow up the entire orbs until all it took was a lone look from Craig to heal him.

'It's a free country.'

He might have wanted to, but he couldn't.

Craig came in and slammed the door behind him. Patrick looked up from his coursework, which he had casually strewn across the dining table. With a slam like that, he was expecting John Paul, drunk and enraged. So to see Craig, shy, reserved Craig, bounding into the room with a face full of rage and a red face puffed with... tears? That was enough to put anyone off their homework.

'Craig? What happened to you?'

'I might as well not have been there Pat! He didn't look at me, anyone really. Expect the bottom of his beer bottle and that perky blonde twink at the bar! And get this, the record company guy loved it! Thought it gave him character or a selling point or something... Selling point?! That he's spinning into oblivion!'

'Woo. Calm down. What happened?'

'I just told you. Are you not listening?!'

'Hearing? Yes. Listening? When your rage sober, you're going to be glad I ignored you.'

'He's a mess Pat. A mess.'

Craig collapsed down on the sofa, head in his hands. Patrick came and sat down next to him, a stiff hand rubbing his back.

'It's not like he's had any time to adjust.'

'Pat, he's bottling it up. He won't be home tonight...'

'How do you know?'

'I can tell.' Craig had lost all anger now but it was scarier some how. He was so dejected it was almost tear inspiring.

'Craig... you have to talk to him. Okay? It's not just what he's doing to himself, it's what he's doing to you. I know he loves you; he would hate to be the reason you looked like that. I know it.'

'He would have been - but now he doesn't care. Barely about himself.'

Lia ran in, heels in hand in avoid tripping on the torn carpet.

'Hey, just on my way out, sorry to inter... What's going on?' Her face fell into a frown and her body fell into the space next to Craig on his left.

'John Paul stuff... what else?' Lia and Patrick simply talked over Craig's curved back, no point in trying to to get him to speak. When he went into one of the moods, always John Paul related and often even before they returned together all smiles and after-glow, there was no point trying to rouse him into conversation.

'I have to go...'

'We got it covered. Thanks Lia.' Lia smiled, patted Craig's back and left. Patrick turned back to Craig, bending down as if at the right angle he could peer through Craig's hands to see his eyes.

'Craig... say something.'

'I love him.'

'I know... everything's going to be okay. Just... don't join him down in the abyss, okay? He needs someone to come back up for.'

Craig nodded, still looking down. Patrick was right: he couldn't afford to break down.

The next morning, after persuading Lia and Patrick that giving them the house to themselves would not result in mass damage to the many breakable objects or the boys themselves, he sat nervously on the sofa waiting for John Paul to come home. He could not sit still - his legs were jumping of their own accord, faster than he knew was possible and his sweaty palms were not cooling his face as he wiped his brow every thirty seconds. When he heard the door creak open though, everything stopped. His hands, his legs. His heart.

'John Paul?' He turned around to face the door where John Paul was coming in, walking slowly so as not to make any noise with sunglasses Craig didn't recognise on his face.

'Craig... aren't you supposed to be at school?'

'I skipped it. I want to talk to you.'

'Mind if I take a nap first?'

'Yes.'

'Yes I can take a nap or yes you mind?'

'Yes, I mind. Will you sit down?' It was hard to keep his voice steady - every move John Paul made, heavy with thought and with hang-over made Craig want to shake him until he became the man he remembered The man who he had brought to share a bed with; scratch that, his life with.

John Paul sat down, Craig still standing above him.

'We need to talk.'

'Right now? I won't make any sense if I don't sleep...'

'You won't speak then! Please JP, please. I need some answers, okay?'

John Paul felt the pleading tone in his gut - so vulnerable, not a word he connects with Craig and it scares him. Maybe even more than everything else.

'I'm going through a lot...' He spoke carefully, if he woke the sleeping beast this wouldn't go well. They'd just end up fighting.

'And you're getting through a hell of a lot of beer too. There is no need to state the obvious JP, I just... talk to me.

'Okay? You really want to hear?' Craig nodded with a sincerity he did not feel. 'They didn't know I was there, at first, until he unveiled me: like the star prize of the night. And he tied me up next to them, and told my mum she had to choose. Choose Craig, choose who to save. And they were crying. My sisters laid out in front of me, in tears. His grimy hands all over their faces, taunting my mum with their screams. And I asked her to take my life; I had to beg her to choose me over them. Had to comfort her, promise her it wouldn't hurt. Feel his breath on my ear when he told me that he had murdered Kieron. Is that what you want to here? That instead of begging for my life I had to beg for my own death? That I had to be strong for them? That he... What is it you want to know Craig?! How after the explosion, he found me and stopped me screaming with his hand?! That he told me that I had everything he should have had and that was why he killed Kieron. Is that what you wanted to hear?'

Craig just stood: he knew he should speak, say something but the words didn't come to him. So when John Paul left the bedroom he let him go. Now he had no choice but give him space.

Except he did. This couldn't go on. The fighting and then the silence and then the awkwardness. They weren't broken, just a bit torn. Craig was on John Paul's tail, in the bedroom behind him before he'd even shut the door.

'Craig!' He was whining in that way only John Paul can. 'I just want to sleep.'

'I'm glad you're opening up but you don't have to run away after...'

'Yes, I do.'

'Why?'

'I don't want you to see me... all sad.' He trailed off at the end, and Craig's heart broke.

'John Paul...'

'No, I'm not doing this!'

John Paul was enraged now, prowling like a caged animal.

'I can't break down, can't get angry, can't, okay?!'

'Why not?'

'Because... I don't want to.' Craig walked over to him, only for him to walk away again. 'I'm drinking because I want to, I'm out all night because every time I'm hear we do this, I was with that guy...'

'What guy?! The blonde?' Sympathy was out of the window, now there was blind rage. 'You fuck him?!'

'No!' John Paul at least had enough dignity to seem embarrassed. 'We just talked...'

'All night?'

'You knew I was out, where did you think I was?'

'A friends?' It sounded pathetic, but Craig had nothing else to hold onto.

'He wanted to. fuck that is; but I said no. But not because he wasn't hot, not because his ideas were not good, not because I couldn't've...' John Paul knew he should stop, could see Craig recoil in rage and depression but this was it. A chance to end the conversations forever.

'Stop it...'

'He wanted to. And he was hot. You know, other than the hair, he looked a bit like Kieron...'

Craig couldn't help it. That name - bet Kieron would know what to do, bet Kieron would keep him safe, Kieron wouldn't let him kill himself - all the words that swam in his head every night. And there was a slap, John Paul's head thrown to one side.

They stayed still, some mockery of a statue, until John Paul got up to leave. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? If he'd bothered to look behind him, into the broken face of his lover, he'd know it definitely wasn't what Craig wanted.

'Where are you going?' Craig asked, still paralysed but sure he should ask.

'A walk.'

'Where are you going?' John Paul was back from his walk, wind-swept (or were those tear tracks?) but beautiful like Craig remembered. Even though it had only been a hour, it felt like years since he asked John Paul that question. He'd made a lot of decisions.

'Scotland. With Steph.'

'Oh.' John Paul was silent for a moment. 'You don't have to go...'

'Yes I do.'

'I deserved it...'

'Don't say that!' There was pure venom in the words, but Craig still did not turn around to meet John Paul's gaze. Instead, he stayed focused on folding every t-shirt as neatly as possible.

'I'm sorry... How long will you be away?'

'A few days... maybe a week. She thinks it'll be good for her and Tom to get away. And I think...' Craig paused, trying very hard to keep his voice from breaking. He could feel John Paul move forward, only a few feet away from him now and it wasn't making this conversation any easier.

'What do you think Craig?'

'I think you need time and space to figure yourself out. And I'm going to give it to you.'

Craig finally turned around, eyes locked immediately with John Paul's. How could someone so strong look so lost?

'Craig, you didn't do anything wrong...'

'Yes I did. And I'm sorry.'

'Don't say that, okay? I don't deserve it...'

'You need to heal. I get that, I do. But... the drinking, the staying out, never seeming like you're really in the room... I don't know how to help you.'

'I...'

'Let me finish.' John Paul nodded, dropping his gaze slightly to rest on Craig's chest; the pain in Craig's eyes all to familiar. 'I love you John Paul; but ever since we've been together, it's been you saving me. Mainly from my own mistakes but... I don't know how to be strong for you like you've always been for me. And in trying, I've turned into someone I never wanted to be for you. I hit you. And I will never forgive myself.'

'I forgive you.'

'Was that enough to stop you feeling guilty about Niall? That I forgave you? No. And so I think... maybe we need some time apart. For you to heal and me to... process.'

'You're going to leave me?' John Paul did his best hard uncaring voice but the vulnerability shone through like a light at the end of a tunnel.

'No. Not unless you want me too... maybe you could think about that too.'

Any argument John Paul had died on his lips. This was it? Craig was leaving to process them and when he came back... it could be over. Then where would John Paul go? Stand in Hollyoaks everyday, a broken family and a broken heart for company.

'I'll write you a postcard. Doubt they'll be phone reception but if there is...' John Paul still hadn't moved. Craig pushed his chin up gently until they were locking eyes again - it felt right, just for a moment, and then their pain seeped through again.

'Bye.' Craig zipped the bag up and was gone before John Paul's mind could even muster the strength to say it back. Somehow, even though he hadn't leant on Craig, knowing he was there for when he was ready made everything so much more bearable. Now, he couldn't even rely on that.

'Come back to me Craig.' It was a soft whisper, even John Paul barely heard it, but it was there in the real world like very little else John Paul had felt since the explosion. And even though it was pain and even though it hurt, it felt like a step in the right direction. Only without Craig, he wasn't quite sure where he was heading.

By the time Craig was downstairs and in a cab, he had thought of a thousand more things he should have said to John Paul. And he couldn't shake the feeling that now it was too late.

'Come back to me John Paul.'

'What was that? The cab driver turned, waiting to know where Craig wanted to go.

'Sorry, I meant the airport.' And by the time John Paul was peering out the window, he was gone.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I've had a lot on and this was such angsty sad McDean I was kind of trying to get out of writing it. Thank you all for the reviews and follows - definitely spurred me to get through the dark to the light. It means a lot. And keep them coming!

Not so long til the next one, promise! And FYI, I have 13 chapters planned.