{13}
It's been a couple months, I wrap my arms around another one,
And you still can't see how much you mean to me,
I wanna talk to you, just like the time I told you I'm not good for you,
'Cause I'm not good for you.
{PLAY}
The last few times this has happened, Stephen has tried to pull himself away. He's probably spent too many years of his life fighting against society's expectations of him and his perception of himself. He's certainly spent too many years waiting for a man who, if anything, seems to accept himself even less than Stephen does.
A real relationship would be impossible, surely. If they're never going to come out, it won't work. And every time Dec leaves, Stephen feels like another piece of him is leaving too. It doesn't feel healthy, putting aside his morals and what he knows is sensible for a single night of what he wishes he could have forever. It's not even about sleeping together, although that has often been the catalyst; more than that nowadays, Stephen simply craves the proximity to Dec. It's like Dec said before they officially stopped seeing each other – when it's possible to forget the rest of the world, it feels right.
When that isn't possible, every shred of good falls away. It's toxic, the stress that comes with that feeling. And slowly Stephen has been trying to accept the truth – maybe he and Dec are toxic. Maybe it's unhealthy, the back and forth that they've tried and failed to stop at least three times in the last few years.
Still, despite all of that, there is a part of him that continues to resist the idea of cutting Dec off completely. Because sometimes it feels like it used to: crisp sheets and hushed conversations that will never leave those same four walls.
He distracts himself from that fantasy with a reality check. Sometimes, their conversations took a turn. Dec talked about trying to have a relationship with a woman, dating to ease the pressure on his shoulders. For years, Stephen has wanted to tell him not to but there has always been too much weight pressing on his chest and he's never found the words.
Maybe one day he wouldn't care what people thought of him. He dreams about that too, creating a situation where he learns to put himself first. In it, he would be able to settle down with Dec in the way he has started to imagine when his mind is allowed to wander in dangerous directions. He wouldn't be scared of the consequences of telling people about Dec.
Rarely – very rarely – it feels like he's already there. He's fed up of living in a lie and even if it involves losing everyone, the idea of just telling the truth and setting himself free is an enticing one. He can picture himself admitting how he feels about Dec. But he doesn't think Dec would ever do the same.
(*~*)
Dec and Ali have been dating for a year now – publicly. Of course, it wasn't a surprise when the news eventually got released – not to Stephen, anyway. He appreciated Dec telling him beforehand – long before it was in the public domain – although it had still taken Ant bringing up that date on Valentines Day for the older man to mention it.
It's the first time Stephen has felt something akin to jealousy. Not that he envies Ali particularly. After all, she's in a relationship with someone who cannot feel the way she clearly does. Stephen wouldn't wish that on anyone. He knows they're friends, her and Dec; they have been for years. He guesses that's what has allowed Dec to get this far with her. He probably does love her – platonically, at least.
They really push the ironic story of Dec and Ali spending Valentines Day together in the past when neither of them had dates. People think it's funny and kind of sweet. Stephen might have agreed if he didn't have the bigger picture forever burned across his memory.
Their work forces them to see each other. It also forces Stephen to frequently see Dec with Ali which feels like an unnecessary added piece of torture from the universe. Maybe he deserves it at this point – those nights on the last Britain's Got Talent tour weigh more heavily on him than any of the others. He likes Ali. Guiltily, he's only grateful that he doesn't really know her all that well. It feels less like he's betrayed someone's trust even if he still has.
Fortunately, Dec's sudden determination to overcompensate and be a good friend to Stephen pushes most thoughts of guilt out of his head. It's tiring, trying to be around Dec in any situation but especially when it's just the two of them.
Stephen is tired.
When they've been at events recently, he's felt Dec's focus run over him. It isn't the same as the loaded gazes of the past, mellowed with age and what Stephen uncomfortably perceives as worry. He doesn't want Dec to worry about him – he doesn't want them to be close enough for that to be something that the other man feels he has a responsibility to do.
He tells himself he hates the attention but he can't escape the comfort he gets from having Dec in his life, even if it's not the way either of them want. He loves Dec a bit too much not to spend any time with him.
Slowly, Dec has pushed the boundaries in their conversations as if he's slowly hoping the past is fading away and might one day no longer exist. The first time Stephen saw him in the CITV studio, instantly berating himself for not recognising one of the channel's most notable newcomers, he'd hoped that they could both just forget what had happened the first time they met. He wondered if Dec had hoped for that too – that it would fade until it was nothing but a private joke between the two of them. If he did, then at least they are both guilty of doing a terrible job at achieving that ending.
Dec sometimes asks if Stephen's dating anyone. He only does it when no one else is around, usually in a soft tone that invites total honesty. It seems as if he really wants to hear about Stephen's failing love life and that maybe he wouldn't mind if there was someone. Despite that, Stephen feels awkward because he doesn't want to tell Dec that he almost let himself sleep with a random guy three weeks ago before thinking better of it. He also doesn't want to admit that he's tried to think of some women in the same way because every time he fails to feel any attraction to them, it stabs him in the chest.
When Dec asks, he's treating it like all friends tend to. He's looking for amusing stories of first dates and mishaps. It's like when Ant does the same with a mischievous glint in his eyes – with him, it's just friendly teasing and Stephen tolerates it like he tolerates all jokes at his expense. With Dec, it still feels different even if the older Geordie is evidently trying to blend in with all of Stephen's other friends.
It's worse when he tries to do anything more serious though. The concerned attention at group events shifts to easy-to-read worry in his eyes when they're on their own. Stephen doesn't want him to ask about the itchy, healing lines beneath his shirt sleeve. He doesn't want to admit that he's been read like an open book because this shift in demeanour coincided exactly with the time it all started again.
It's just a rough patch, he tells himself. It will pass.
(*~*)
A couple of weeks go by. People are speculating about how long Dec will leave it before proposing. Stephen is decidedly not speculating about that. He doesn't want to think about it at all even as the vast majority of their shared friendship group bring it up when the older man isn't in hearing range. It would have been nice, Stephen thinks, to see their giddiness on Dec's behalf. They all seem so happy for him – so pleased that he's taken his time and ended up with someone who's been right in front of him all this time.
It hits Stephen then, how he's been in front of Dec for over a decade too. It's not enough in their case – not enough to surmount the added challenges they have to contend with. And Dec would rather live a lie than deal with those challenges.
They don't talk about the proposal gossip. In fact, Stephen suspects that Dec invites himself over in the first place to avoid it. He knows Stephen won't bring it up, making his house the only safe place. For a while, Stephen considers mentioning it, even if it would be petty and instantly drag him into a conversation he doesn't want to have. He can imagine Dec complaining good-naturedly about Ant's persistent, relentless mocking even if it took the other man longer enough to do it himself with Anne-Marie.
Anyway, that's a lie. He can imagine a straight version of Dec doing that, right down to the closed-eye, sheepish twitch of his mouth. The man in front of him isn't that person though. If he is thinking about proposing to Ali, it's purely about conforming to people's expectations. Stephen thinks it must be a difficult place to be right now, in Dec's head. And then he tries not to think about it anymore because he doesn't want to drive himself to feeling that sympathetic.
His gut twists uncomfortably anyway because he does care. He cares too much.
Dec seems to have other things on his mind at the moment, acting a little twitchy and hesitant before he finally brings it up. "You've been quiet recently."
"Have I?" Stephen asks in return, trying not to sigh too wearily. In a world where he wasn't so far in over his head, he would have pushed Dec away long ago. Dec wouldn't even think about bringing this up with him – maybe wouldn't even have noticed it happening in the first place.
"When you're at events," Dec continues. He's almost annoyingly confident, well-trained from years of reading Stephen's body language rather than listening to what he's choosing to say. "Even with the people you know the best, you seem detached from it all."
He isn't wrong. Stephen has been withdrawing a little; at first it was subconscious but then he noticed himself doing it and didn't try to stop. It's not that he's planning on coming out but the idea of being a little less involved in his friend's lives seems sensible in case that ever does happen. He doesn't want to lose a long list of people who are vital to his existence.
"It's nothing," Stephen says. Might as well hold one more of those people at arm's length.
"You know people will start worrying about you," Dec replies, quiet but firm. Stephen does know that – he's seen Dec's concern in the expressions of other friends. They just don't know how to bring it up because Stephen is bright and cheerful on the surface and whatever they're thinking really doesn't line up with that.
"They wouldn't get it," he says flatly, hating that the subtext does so much heavy lifting. Dec gets it – always has. It's just more ammunition for the older man to push him into talking about what is currently wrong with him. And there's always something, isn't there? An endless list of reasons to find the simple act of living difficult.
"You can still talk to me," Dec pleads predictably. Stephen tries to muster some anger towards him because he makes it sound so easy but, in the end, he only feels resignation.
"How can I?" he asks in return, frustrated all at once. "You'll just feel guilty even if it's not your fault. I'm not trying to guilt-trip you into anything..."
"That means you're not okay," Dec interjects firmly, shifting on the sofa so that he's facing Stephen properly, offering him no way out.
"I'm tired, Declan," Stephen says quietly, scratching his forehead with a sigh as he resigns himself to talking. "I'm fed up of lying to people and still having to come home to an empty house anyway. But if I want to have a relationship, I have to lose everyone else."
"You'd still have me," Dec replies gently. Stephen tries not to wince because he wouldn't have Dec the way he wishes he could.
"Everyone would want to know why you were fine with it," he says. He's thought this through. "Ant would tell you I've been lying to you for years – he'd be confused about how you could be so okay with it."
"And I'd tell him it's because I'm not bloody homophobic!" Dec argues back incredulously. "Stephen, I wouldn't just abandon you like that."
"I'm not coming out anyway," Stephen says with a swift shake of his head to dispel the notion. "I can't."
"You could – one day," Dec tries again.
"You're not going to," Stephen accuses lightly, feeling just a little bad for bringing that up. Dec's supportive expression ripples into something raw and then back again, a perfect mask being reinstated.
"I've got Alison," Dec points out gingerly. Stephen still doesn't believe him. "It's – working."
"So, you're not gay?" Stephen asks, mostly curious even if he doubts whatever answer Dec will give.
"I might be bisexual," Dec points out rightly. Stephen still doesn't believe him.
"Would you ever come out as that?" He doesn't know where all of these questions are coming from. Mostly he's deflecting because he doesn't want to admit how much he is struggling at the moment.
"I wouldn't need to," Dec mumbles eventually and that is proof enough that he probably isn't anyway. Stephen hates how it perpetuates the idea that there should be any shame attached to this. He doesn't disagree with Dec's opinion though – he's got a lifetime of shame weighing him down. Dec's voice lifts back to normal and he tries again. "How are you doing, then?"
"Not great," Stephen hears himself say automatically. He hates the instinctive honesty that Dec's presence brings out in him. His eyes are stinging and he looks down at his hands to try and stave the flow of tears.
"Talk to me," Dec says softly, his hand brushing Stephen's arm but only fleetingly. It's still enough to pull too much to the surface. He reaches tentatively towards his sleeve and hears Dec's intake of breath.
"Sometimes it's easier," he murmurs unevenly, hand close to pushing the material up to his elbow even as he hesitates. "I don't know what else to do."
"Don't say that," Dec replies faintly, his voice barely a breath.
"You're the only person I can say it to," Stephen says, feeling the heat of the first few tears slip down his face. He screws his eyes closed, takes a steadying breath and wills them to stop.
"Stevie," Dec pleads again and Stephen knows what he is asking. He pushes his sleeve up, glancing down at the evidence of new scars mixing with the old ones. It always seems worse when he has to watch Dec's reaction to them. He gets desensitised to it, seeing the patchwork pattern every day.
When Dec has been quiet for a long time, Stephen risks a glance in his direction. He's surprised not to find Dec fixated on his arm but instead seeking out eye contact, his own eyes shimmering and unhappy. It triggers another overspilling down Stephen's cheeks because it's worse to see the effect this has on someone else. He never wants Dec to get caught in the crossfire of his own selfish need to distract himself.
Between one blink and the next, Dec surges forwards, his lips meeting Stephen's before he can react. He tastes the salt splashing between them, feels Dec's firm intention, closes his eyes to forget everything else – and then he recoils, flung away by an uncontrollable surge of anger.
"What the hell?!"
Dec flinches, his hands twitching at his sides as if he's holding himself back from trying again. Stephen finds himself shaking, almost breathless from the surprise.
"You have a girlfriend," he tells Dec firmly despite the tears still tracking down his face. He swipes them away firmly, angrier when they immediately get replaced. "What the hell, Dec?!"
"Stevie," Dec tries weakly.
"Stop messing with my head." The strangled words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them, thoughts spinning too quickly for him to keep track of. He hates himself for it when Dec looks so crushed but he knows it's the truth. He needs Dec to be clear with him – to set boundaries. He needs to lose the constant hope he has that the older man will change his mind about all of this. They could both stay 'single' forever and keep up with their old arrangement – but they won't.
"I'm sorry," Dec whispers, sounding half-terrified. "I'm so sorry."
"You should go," Stephen says flatly, trying to push him away as carefully as possible, "Before you do something you regret."
"I don't regret you," Dec replies unexpectedly. He sounds sure of himself which Stephen can't reconcile with everything else he knows about the other man. Dec firmly denies being gay; he always used to describe what they had as something different to any of the women he saw; he said it didn't count between them.
"I don't believe that," he says under his breath, half-hoping Dec won't hear him. The shuddering sigh that answers suggests he definitely did hear it.
"They're deeper than normal," Dec says suddenly, his voice hollow as he finally goes some way towards justifying what he just did – blind panic, then. Stephen knows he's right but doesn't want to admit it.
"Get out," he says by way of reply, his voice low and dangerous. Dec's breath wavers again and the sound tears into Stephen's chest even more so than the pounding of his heart that Dec's comment has provoked.
"Stephen," Dec murmurs faintly.
"Declan," Stephen interjects, willing his tone to remain stern, "Get out."
He feels the sofa shift as Dec stands up, hears his breathing falter again as he fails to regain his composure. "Text me if you need me. I know you probably won't want to but – please just text me."
He doesn't trust himself to reply as Dec leaves the room and he stays put as he hears the other man putting his shoes on. He doesn't even move after the front door has clicked closed, frozen in a cycle of overthinking that he can't escape. The worst part is the itch on his right arm, goading him into making yet another terrible decision.
Dec's offer of support is one that he has made many times before. Stephen is yet to take him up on it when that urge gets too strong. He's far from convinced that he will start now.
{PAUSE}
You won't find someone who loves you like I do,
You won't find someone who trusts you like I do,
'Cause all I wish is all you want and more,
And all you want is nothing anymore.
{NEXT TRACK}