A Selfless Kind Of Love

Grief, letting go and loving again

It had been three months now, three long dark and empty months. Life went on around him; Bram though just went through the motions. Micah had made him promise to live his life to the full, but he'd not realised just how impossible that would prove to be. He'd lost his first love, his best friend, his lover, his soul mate.

Paul, the one constant in his life, kept telling him to get out there and move on. It's what Micah had wanted him to do, it's what he'd died believing would happen.

So tonight Bram found himself sitting in a secluded corner at Bart's Bar. Where it had all started and where on that awful night it had first started to unravel. He wasn't sure how he'd got here, on automatic pilot maybe. He didn't want to be here, the memories were bittersweet, hard to bear. It was too noisy, too busy, the mood too happy, he didn't want to be happy, he didn't want to be happy ever again.

He sensed someone watching him and was about to get up and leave when a friendly voice made him look up. He wanted to say 'yes I mind you sitting here, so piss off and leave me alone' but the green eyes looking back at him were warm and as friendly as the voice had been, and they were set in a tanned handsome face. So to his own great surprise he'd said, "No,"  There was no harm in being friendly but that was as far as it was going to go, he didn't want to get involved with anyone else, his heart was still with Micah, wherever he was now.

He'd had to watch the hope die in Micah's eyes, the fight along with it. He was the strongest person he knew but he'd gone from loving life, from being so full of life, to what Micah had started to describe himself so scornfully as being - a helpless, burdensome drain of time and energy on those who loved him. Micah said he didn't want to go on that way, and kept telling everyone he couldn't go on that way, and then had started to talk about finding a way out. He said he wanted to know peace, the sort of peace he'd never find just as long as he continued to breathe.

There was no talking him out of it, friends family, medical staff all eventually having to recognise his determination whether they accepted his decision or not. Emmy had at first fought him every step of the way, but with a mother's courage she'd finally faced the truth, she was going to lose her precious only son.

"You're hard work." Craig teased, the green eyes sparking mischievously. They'd been sitting together half an hour now, the twenty six year old doing most of the talking, having to do most of the talking, because Bram was struggling to connect, and every now and then his mind would wander back in time, back to Micah.

"Sorry." He was truly sorry, he knew he wasn't being fair, Craig seemed genuinely interested in him, but he didn't have the energy to tell him he was wasting his time.

"I'll get us another drink, don't you go sneaking off."

Bram couldn't even manage a grin at the teasing and anyway that very thought had crossed his mind. It would certainly make things a lot easier if he did walk out while Craig's back was turned. Instead he watched him make his way over to the bar, he was tall, muscular, well fit, but was he attracted to him? No. He loved Micah, would always love Micah, he couldn't be attracted to anyone else.

Craig was a long time at the bar, chatting away to one of the barmen long after he'd been served, he'd probably found his company a lot more stimulating than his and who could blame him.

When Craig finally returned to the table, Bram was aware of a change in his mood, he'd become serious and he was about to find out why.

"Aden's just told me about your boyfriend, I'm sorry."

Emotion surged up inside and tears threatened, Bram had to look down to hide his grief. He didn't want to cry here, not in front of Craig, not in front of anyone. His pain was private, his loss no one else's business but his own.

"I don't live far from here; if you want we could..."

"No!" He'd spat the word out glaring back at the other man as he did so. Why the hell would he want to go back to his place?

"I thought you might want to talk. I'm a good listener."

"Alright." He was on his feet now, Craig obviously taken aback by his sudden change of mind and haste to leave.

He'd followed the taller man out into the night, and they'd walked the ten minutes it took to reach his second floor flat in silence.

Bram wasn't intending going back to his place to talk; he was going back there to satisfy a need. It wouldn't mean anything, it would be easy to forget, he wouldn't wake up in the morning hating himself.

The flat's small hallway led to a decent sized kitchen, he was standing in the middle of it now, telling himself this wasn't the room he wanted to be in.

"Tea or coffee?" Craig asked him as he switched the kettle on.

"Tea." But he didn't want a drink! He wanted to get laid, he wanted to know something other than pain and how ever long the ecstasy lasted it would set his pain filled mind free.

Stepping boldly over to the other man he leant in and kissed him, a hungry, need filled kiss, one he truly expected to be responded too. Craig hadn't got him here to talk, why would he want to? Why should a stranger care enough to do that?

He felt two hands on his chest, but they weren't there to caress him, they were pushing him away, determined to break the contact.

"What you doing?" Craig demanded.

"It's what you wanted; it's what you brought me here for!"

"No it's not, I don't sleep with anyone until I get to know them, until I truly care for them, and I know this isn't what you want either."

The green eyes were staring intently into his, seeing the truth, seeing a lot more than he wanted this stranger to see. Turning around Bram made for the door, he had to get out of there, away from the reminder of what he'd been prepared to do. But Craig proved faster on his feet than he was. He'd edged passed him in the hallway and was now blocking the doorway.

"Don't go."

There was a gentleness in Craig's plea, a warmth Bram found impossible to resist, he wanted to somehow lose himself in that warmth, certain it would somehow ease his pain, and more than anything he wanted to stop hurting. But wouldn't he have to let Micah go to do that? He wasn't ready to do that, knew he never would be.

He was sitting on a sofa now, and just like he couldn't remember how he'd got to Bart's, he couldn't remember how he'd got from the hallway here, he'd been in some sort of a daze. A mug of tea had just been pressed into his hands and he was staring fixedly into it. He just couldn't bring himself to look Craig in the eye; he'd made a fool of himself, and insulted the older man in the process.

"Bram?"

Craig's voice was laced with concern which only added to his guilt, he couldn't do this. Getting to his feet he finally met the other man's gaze, "I should go."

"I don't think you're in any fit state to go anywhere."

"I'm fine, I've not had that much to drink!" He protested only to then want to take the words back, to lie and own up to being the worse for drink. That way his earlier actions could be put down to alcohol, he could live with that.

"I didn't mean that, you're upset."

"I'm fine!"

"You're welcome to sleep on the sofa."

"I need to be up early for work."

"I've got a car, I'm over the limit now but I could run you home first thing."

"No."

"Why won't you let me help you?"

"I don't need help! I don't need 'your' help!"

"God you're stubborn!"

How many times had Micah told him that? Countless times and on a regular basis. It was another unbearable reminder of what he'd lost and he had to look away from Craig's knowing gaze. He wanted out of this place, he didn't want sympathy, he didn't want understanding, he just wanted Micah, he needed him desperately right now.

"Finish your tea at least."

The voice, firm yet gentle had again broken into his thoughts and he did as bid, sitting back down on the sofa and sipping on the hot sweet liquid. Craig had sat down then too, on the other end of the sofa. It made for more than a comfortable distance between them, was he expecting him to pounce on him again? Well he didn't have to worry on that score; he wasn't going to do anything like that again. He wanted to forget what he'd done, and he would, as soon as he left the flat he could put it behind him, he had no intentions of seeing Craig Mercer ever again.

"Is there someone at home with you?"

"Why?" What did that matter and why did it matter to him.

"I just don't think you should be on your own tonight."

"Why, what'd you think I'm gonna do?"

"I just meant you need to talk to someone."

"Well I don't." He couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice or the sneer from forming on his face. Craig was just like everyone else; Paul was always trying to get him to talk, his friends Lee and Ben too. Even Joe, his harder than nails uncle had taken him aside and told him he needed to open up to someone, that everyone was worried about him, that they were scared he'd end up doing something stupid again. At the darkest times he had thought about taking his own life but one thing had stopped him, the thought of being unsuccessful, he was terrified of waking up and finding himself amidst all the pain again. If he could just find the courage he needed.

"I think you do and like I told you before I'm a good listener. So tell me about Micah."

Bram could only shake his head; he wasn't going to share his thoughts, his memories, which were all he really had left of Micah now, with a stranger. It really was time for him to go. As he got to his feet so did Craig, ready it seemed to again try and persuade him to stay, but he was ready for him this time. "Thanks for the tea but whatever else you've got on offer I don't want or need, so back off!" He knew he'd sounded threatening, he'd intended to and it seemed to have worked because Craig had made no further attempt to stop him leaving.

Once outside he made for the nearest bus stop, he just wanted to get home, to close his bedroom door on the world he found himself hating more and more.

He wasn't sure what time it was, but he was certain he hadn't missed the last bus. He'd check the time on his phone to be sure. Reaching into his pocket he realised it wasn't there, it wasn't in any of his jacket pockets or his jeans. It must have fallen out when he was at Bart's, or maybe even at Craig's? Well he certainly wasn't going back there for it!

Luckily a bus had come along within minutes, and he sat staring out into the night, his mind now on the time he'd last mislaid his phone. The day after to be precise, Micah had found it and returned it. He could see him now in his mind's eye, talking to Paul by the front door. Smiling, walking, sprinting to his car. His boundless energy there for all to see. He hadn't looked to have a care in the world and didn't have until he'd become a part of it. If Micah hadn't met him he'd still be alive. He didn't think he would be, knew he wouldn't be. Micah had breathed life into his withering soul, and now, without him, it was again shrivelling into a barren nothingness, he was slowly dying inside.

Paul had heard him coming in and had called after him as he made his way upstairs. He'd ignored him hoping he would get the message that he wanted to be left alone. But no, he'd followed him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Are you alright? You're back early."

"I'm fine, just tired so..." He'd gestured to the door letting Paul know he wanted him out of there.

"This can't go on. You can't keep pushing everyone away."

"I'm not." He insisted as he shoved Paul none so gently out into the hallway, swiftly closing the door behind him. He stood and leant against the door, listening to Paul pace back and forth along the landing. He didn't mean to worry him, to hurt him, he just couldn't seem to stop himself. Only when Paul made his way back downstairs did he move from the door, flopping down onto his bed, another place that held so many memories of Micah.

....

He'd had that dream again last night. The one in which he was looking for Micah. It was always the same. It started off with him searching the house and finding every room empty. Then he'd go outside and catch a glimpse of him at the other end of the village. He'd run down the hill but always by the time he got to where he'd seen him standing he'd be gone. Someone would be walking by and he'd ask them if they'd seen him, if they knew where he was. They would always point to the churchyard saying, "He's in there." He never went to look for him in there though, he never went beyond the closed gates, he always backed away, telling himself Micah wasn't in there, that he couldn't be in there and that he'd find him someplace else... if he just kept on looking!

Dream? No that wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare, one that always woke him up, and one that always left him with tears running down his cheeks.

Bram was looking down at the village now; he had a good view of the place from his bedroom window. It was slowly coming to life. He'd just seen Mo walking her dog; she'd stopped to talk to Emmy. Emmy had been on her way to the shop. He knew she'd be in and out in a matter of minutes, a bunch of flowers nestled in her arm. She'd then make her way back down through the village to the churchyard, to what she liked to call her son's resting place, she didn't like the word grave. Twice a week, as regularly as clockwork she put fresh flowers against the headstone, and she'd go there each and every day for what she called 'a little chat'. Emmy had told him the one way conversations helped, that maybe he should try it. He'd almost laughed in her face. How would that help? Hearing Micah's voice would help, hearing him say "there's been an awful mistake, I'm not dead" now that really would help! But pouring your heart out to a piece of engraved marble and getting nothing in return, no that wouldn't help him!

He hadn't been to the grave since the day of the funeral, he didn't want a visual reminder of something he knew all too well, that Micah was now lying all alone in the cold ground.

....

Paul had thought the world of Micah, and he'd got into the habit of going to pay his respects every Sunday morning. Each time he'd ask him to go with him, each time he got the same answer, "No!" He'd give up asking eventually. And while he was thinking of Paul he remembered he wanted to avoid him this morning, otherwise he'd be questioning him over his cornflakes about last night. He'd take a quick shower then head off to work.

He'd closed the front door quietly behind him thinking he'd got clean away, but before he'd even reached the road he heard the same door open and Paul yelling after him.

"Oi, I want a word with you."

Stopping he turned around and met Paul's concerned gaze, "I'm late."

"You're early more like and you've not eaten a damn thing again."

Paul wasn't going to lecture him on the meals he kept missing was he? Not again and not out here where the world and its dog could hear him! He'd eat when he was hungry; he just didn't have much of an appetite these days, "I'll get something in the cafe." Hopefully that would shut the other man up; he could be a right fusspot at times. He turned back around sticking his IPod earphones firmly into place, now he couldn't see or hear Paul's concern.

....

Bacon butties had become a morning ritual at the garage and it was Bram's turn to buy them, but having left his money in his jeans, just two hours after leaving home he was having to head back there. As he made his way up the hill he noticed a car parked outside Willow Cottage. Noticed it...he couldn't miss it! It was a rally car at least it looked to him like it was. What the hell was a car like that doing parked outside Paul's? He hadn't taken up a new hobby had he?

He'd stopped to take a better look at the car and after giving the outside the once over he was now peering in through its windows. Someone had spent a pretty penny on it and whoever that someone was looked to be really into the sport. Hearing Paul's voice he straightened up and looked towards the veterinary surgery door, he didn't want to believe what he was seeing. There standing talking to Paul was Craig Mercer. What the hell was he doing here?

Paul had spotted him and was now pointing in his direction, letting Craig know he was there. As Craig walked towards him Paul went back inside.

Craig had the bloody nerve to smile at him and gesturing at the car that just seconds ago he'd been so interested in said, "Well, what'd you think?"

He ignored the question, instead spitting angrily, "What're you doing here?" he hadn't ever wanted to set eyes on this man again.

"You left your phone at my place, I..."

He knew the next bit, he'd done what Micah had done, phoned the first number he came too and spoke to Paul. "What did you say to him?" He'd better not have told him what had happened between them last night.

"Nothing, nothing you wouldn't want him to hear. Are you alright? I've been worried about you."

"You don't need to worry about me. You've done your good deed for the day so you can clear off!"

"I've left my number, should you want to talk."

"I won't!"

"Bram..."

"I'm not going to tell you again, I don't want to talk. I don't need your help; I don't want anything to do with you!" He'd snarled that last line at Craig; he couldn't make his feelings any clearer.

"Not now maybe, but one day I'm hoping you will."

That quiet, calmly spoken statement had knocked the wind out of Bram's sails, drained all the fight out him, he could only look on as Craig got into his car and drove away. He wasn't still interested in him? He couldn't be! He certainly didn't want him to be.

He'd gone inside then, finding Paul waiting for him, the older man smiling at him excitedly, Bram had an idea of what was coming next.

"He seems nice."

"He's not! He's a weirdo!" He had to be! No one in their right mind would want to get involved with him, look what had happened to Micah.

"Bram! You could at least give him a chance, he seems really keen."

"I'm not interested Paul, not in him, not in any man. Micah's the only..."

Paul had caught hold of him then, gripping him firmly by the shoulders he'd shaken him, silencing him and crushing him with a truth he just didn't want to accept, "Micah's dead and if you're to ever be happy again you've got to let him go!"

Paul's words had cut into him like a blunt knife. He knew Micah was dead! He didn't need reminding. He'd been with him when he died, had been cradling him in his arms when he took his last breath. He'd watched the light fade in Micah's eyes before they closed for the very last time, and he'd felt life itself leave his body.

A stillness had settled around the room, a calm, a true sense of peace. The peace Micah had so yearned for. His for eternity now but it would ebb quickly for those he'd left behind.

Too soon the air around him echoing their heartache, their grief. That's when he'd first become aware of the pain, a hollow unbearable ache, an emptiness he knew nothing and no one could ever fill. The pain never went away, he was aware of it even in his sleep.

He hadn't been able to let go of Micah, not while he was still warm, not while there was still a hint of colour in his cheeks. Not while there was still so much he hadn't told him. More than anything he'd wanted to tell him again how much he loved him, so he did, over and over. He would have sold his soul to the devil for just one more minute with him, and still would.

"Bram?"

Paul again, rousing him from his thoughts, his memories. He felt his hands tighten on his shoulders; he was determined to be heard.

"You promised Micah you wouldn't do this..."

"Shut up!" Bram ground out menacingly, the threat in his voice real, and one Paul should know better than to ignore. He didn't need telling that he'd let Micah down, he already knew that. He'd let him down so many times, in life and now in death.

Shrugging off Paul's hands he ran upstairs, Paul following him, calling after him, pleading with him to talk to him. "Leave me alone!" He bellowed back, slamming his door shut behind him. God help Paul if he dared invade his private space his sanctuary now!

Bram stood glaring at the door, fists clenched, his head pounding. The old enemy coursing through his veins. When the door didn't open he began pacing back and forth, his agitation increasing all the time, his anger spiralling out of control until finally something snapped and he slammed his fist into the nearest wall.

A different pain now, a physical one, and one capable of dragging him down from the heights of rage to the depths of shame. He'd wanted to hit someone, hurt someone, lash out like he used to do before Micah showed him another way, a better way. He didn't want to be that hard, hateful yob ever again, but it seemed he was turning back into him.

He'd gone back to work, kept his head down, his mouth firmly shut. Determinedly ignoring the looks of concern, the attempts at conversation. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? It wasn't too much to ask... was it?

When home time came Ben had tried to talk him into going to The Plough for a pint, tried and failed. He hadn't been in there since the Wake. The place had been packed that day, overflowing with mourners. He hadn't know half the people there, but he knew they were friends and relatives of Micah. He'd been well liked, well loved, highly respected. Why had such a good, decent man loved him? Another question he would forever ask himself.

He'd felt lost in the sea of strangers, had hid himself away in a corner leaving Emmy and John to circulate. Paul hadn't strayed far from his side, Joe another one who didn't seem to think he should be left alone. But how he'd needed their strength that day. At the graveside, and especially when the time came to walk away. Leaving Micah there had been the hardest thing of all.

Someone had pressed a shot of whisky into his hand, he never touched the stuff normally but he'd downed it in one. Fire then blazing a trail from his throat to his belly, but its warmth gave no comfort, his insides still churned still threatened to revolt.

There had been toasts made and speeches. Emmy leaving everyone in tears with her personal tribute to her son. She'd even talked about him, praised him, thanked him, hugged him. Micah had been blessed with the same generous spirit as his mum.

He hadn't wanted to get up and speak. He didn't do things like that. He didn't like being centre of attention. But that day hadn't been about him, it had been about Micah. So he'd got to his feet and from somewhere came the words. Not many but enough. He'd left no one doubting his love for Micah James.

....

Bram had found his phone on the kitchen table, a scrap of paper lay next to it, on it a mobile number and a now familiar name. He scrunched it up in his hand and then tossed it in the bin where it belonged. He turned his attention then to the message alert flashing on the phone's screen. He didn't recognise the number, he wouldn't have read the text if he had, he'd have just deleted it.

"Nob!" He spat aloud, he'd made it clear he wasn't interested so why was Craig texting him to tell him he'd be in Bart's Bar that night? Asking him if he fancied a drink and a game of pool? Was he hard of hearing? Slow on the uptake or what? He was seriously pissing him off now!

He irritably tapped out a reply. Telling Craig to go do something everyone knew was physically impossible! He didn't send it though, he saved it in his drafts folder telling himself he'd send it later, around the time the older man said he'd be at the club, intent on reinforcing the message with a no-show.

Walking over to the fridge he checked its contents, it was full of things he liked but he couldn't be bothered cooking or even to make himself a sandwich, maybe later. Maybe he'd just go into town and get some chips. That idea held a lot of appeal, it would be best if he kept well out of Paul's way tonight.

He showered and changed, pulled on something clean then headed for the door. Five minutes later he was on a bus to Choud, at some point on the way there he decided he'd stop for a drink at The Feathers, it was a quiet pub and there was a chippy right next door, and conveniently only a few feet away from the bus stop. The Feathers was also on the opposite side of town to Bart's. There was no chance of him bumping into Craig Mercer.

The Feathers had been full of coffin dodgers, so he'd not stayed long, he'd then joined the queue in Fryer Tucks and as he stood waiting to be served stared out the open door at the passing traffic. Suddenly he wanted to be someplace else, Craig had just walked in the door.

Craig looked more than a little surprised to see him, but his features soon softened into a smile, his eyes twinkling with devilment when he held up his hand, holding out his phone for him to see.

"I got your message!"

He had to have had by now! He'd sent it what... fifteen minutes ago while he was supping next door. For some reason he was suddenly wishing he hadn't sent it, but then it hadn't seemed to have caused any offense, Craig seemed to have found it funny. Well more fool him!

Bram's first instinct had been to walk out of the place, to put some distance between him and Craig. It's what he did, when things got uncomfortable, he walked away. Micah had told him it was a childish thing to do, and that violent confrontations were even less acceptable. So he turned around, turning his back on what he found so irritating, hoping he would just go away.

He was stood by the bus stop now, eating his chips. He knew he'd just missed one bus, he'd seen it passing as he waited for his change. He now had an hour's wait for the next one. Bram had his back turned to the chippy door, knowing that at any minute Craig would walk through it and that he'd probably stop to say something to him. He was going to have to bite his tongue if he did. He heard footsteps, knew exactly who it was, but they faded into the distance and he turned around just in time to see Craig disappear around the corner. Finally, he'd taken the hint!

He could relax a little now; his temper wasn't going to be straining at the reins tonight. Then he heard it, power on wheels and it was coming his way, soon to be parked right in front of him. Through the open passenger side window he heard a voice that was starting to become a little too familiar.

"I could run you home if you want."

"No thanks." He'd kept his tone even, his voice low, Micah would have been proud.

"You've got a long wait for the next bus."

"I'm in no hurry." He wasn't, he had no one at home waiting for him, except Paul and he was avoiding him at all costs. He was going back to an empty room and an empty bed.

"What if I promised to keep my hands on the wheel, my eyes on the road and my big mouth shut, could I tempt you then?"

What was it with this prick? He just didn't give up, was he that desperate for company? If he was, he'd find some in The Feathers; it was domino and darts night in there, the wrinkley's kicking up their heels. "I said no!" He was getting truly peeved now.

"I know what you said; I was just hoping I could persuade you otherwise. But I was forgetting just how stubborn you were."

He glared back at Craig. He hated being called stubborn, he didn't think he was, and he used to tell Micah that when he'd had a pop at him about it, he'd been quick to defend his right to stand his ground. Micah would shake his head at him saying he needed to learn when to back down.

Craig had closed his window and driven off by the time he'd surfaced from his reverie, leaving him to breathe a sigh of relief.

Tossing his now empty chip wrapper into a nearby bin he felt the first spots of rain, ten minutes later it was pouring down and he was having to shelter in the chip shop's doorway. It was more like a cloudburst than a heavy shower; cars were having to slow down because of the deluge. One in particular now slowing down and stopping. To his dismay Craig was back and again parked in the bus only space. What was he? Some kind of sick stalker? He was beckoning him over to the car now.

"It's warm and dry in here."

Bram shook his head and looked away. It was warm and dry in the chippy doorway too and a lot less crowded.

"Oh come on you miserable prat, get in the car!"

Micah had called him that, more than once, usually with a grin on his face, just like Craig had now. The only difference was he wanted to knock it off Craig's! Suddenly his legs seemed to have a life of their own because he was walking towards the car, pulling open the door and climbing into its bucket seat, banging his head on the roll bars as he did so. How was that for an undignified entrance? He felt a right prat now.

He'd rested his head against the door window and stared out through it, finding the silence that followed increasingly uncomfortable. Craig had said he'd keep his mouth shut but he hadn't for one minute thought he was serious. But as he'd driven through town and then out into the country he'd not said one word.

Bram knew he should say something, he was saving 'thanks' for when he got out the car, he didn't know what to say now though, he didn't want to get into a conversation he just wanted to ease the tension a little.

"You're into rallying then?" It was the best he could come up with, he only hoped Craig wasn't a fanatic and wouldn't drone on about it endlessly.

"I told you I was last night. I knew you weren't listening."

He could hear a teasing tone in Craig's voice, but knew it was masking a fair point. His mind had kept wandering; it must have been elsewhere when he'd told him that. "Sorry."

"It's alright. I'm happy to repeat everything I said at some other time...tomorrow maybe?"

Not again! He was getting tired of turning him down not that he had any intentions of ever agreeing to seeing him, maybe if he tried a more polite approach it would sink in, "Look I..."

"It's alright, I know you're not interested in me in that way, and I understand why, but I'm talking platonic friendship here. I'm fairly new to the area, I don't know that many people and to be honest with you Bram, I could do with a friend."

He'd not expected that, not that it made any difference, "I'm not very good company right now."

"Better than none though eh? "

That was debatable! He wasn't up to socializing in any way shape or form, mores to the point he just didn't want to. He'd been about to make that clear to Craig when he realised they were entering Hollsy, the car now sweeping around the corner and slowing down outside his home. Before he could open his mouth, Craig had switched the engine off and was gesturing to the front door saying, "Any chance of a coffee?"

Craig wasn't backward at coming forward was he! Bram wanted to say no but then Craig had gone out of his way to drive him home, and he'd just made it clear he knew exactly where he stood, so telling himself it wouldn't do any harm he heard himself saying a reluctant "Yeah."

Paul's car had been in the drive so Bram knew he was home, but with Craig tagging along he knew he'd be spared the 'talking to' that had to be coming, at least for tonight. Hopefully when the older man realised he wasn't alone he'd keep well out of the way. He didn't want Paul getting chatting to Craig else he'd never get rid of him. He had it all worked out. It would take two minutes to make the coffee, five for him to drink it, one to walk him to the door.

He'd led the way into the kitchen, to his horror he found his mother and Paul sitting together at the table. He knew why she was here, she was checking up on him. The two of them had been discussing him over a cup of tea! The very thought made him angry; it wasn't taking much to make him angry these last few days.

They'd first eyed him with concern, he knew that look all too well. Their eyes had quickly widened in surprise on seeing Craig, his Mum's face then lighting up with a smile. She of course would get the wrong idea about the two of them. Well he'd soon put her right.

He hadn't had chance to open his mouth though, Cass was on her feet and introducing herself, pulling out the chair next to her in an invitation for Craig to join them. Like there was a snowball in hell's chance of him letting her get that close to Craig! She'd be interrogating him the second his backside touched the chair.

Glaring at his mother he pointedly pushed the chair back into place, then glancing over his shoulder at Craig, gestured to the living room, the two of them would sit in there.

With Craig safely in the next room he'd set about making them a drink. He'd kept his back to the table but could feel two sets of eyes on him, boring questioningly into the back of his head. Was he going to have to tell them again to leave him alone? It seemed he was. He swung around ready to let rip, his Mum again getting in before him.

"Is he the one you met last night?"

"No he's someone else I picked up!" He snapped back sarcastically, "I'll be bringing home someone different again tomorrow night!" She'd made it sound like he was out every night cruising for action, well he wasn't like her, not in any way and Bram decided his mother needed reminding of that, "You might like to put it about but..."

"Bram!" Paddy barked, "That was uncalled for! Apologise to your mum now."

"Who are you to tell me what to do? And anyway you of all people should know what a bed hopper she is!" She'd cheated on Paul and left him for the other man. Why was he sticking up for her!

Paul was on his feet and in his face before Bram knew it.

"I know you hurting but that's no excuse to hurt others!"

He'd been about to spit back some more poison when he realised Craig was standing in the doorway, he'd obviously come to see what all the shouting was about, he had to have heard everything. Well so what? He didn't care what he thought of him...what any of them thought of him. To hell with the lot of them. Shouldering his way past Paul, he made for the stairs, ignoring Craig when he called after him. He knew where the door was, he could see himself out.

It was ten or fifteen minutes, maybe even more before he heard Craig's car roar out of the village. He'd lost track of time, his mind once again on its travels. This time it had been a conscious decision on his part, he'd wanted to escape the ugliness he'd created, he'd thought he'd left it behind him, in the room with the people he'd so cruelly slated. But it had clung to him like a bad odour, invading his room.

He wished his body could travel back in time too. Back to when Micah was still in the world. Before or even after the accident, it wouldn't matter just as long as he could physically touch him, hold him, kiss him...and talk to him. He really missed being able to talk to him, sharing his thoughts, his troubles, although Micah had usually done most of the talking, him happy to do the listening.

But those last few weeks they'd had together, he'd done his equal share. Together they'd remembered places they'd been, things they'd done, arguments they'd had, the nights they'd spent making up. They'd even tackled the worst row they'd ever had. The time when Micah had told him he was to look for someone he could have a physical relationship with. He'd been hurt, angry, disgusted...so many things, and he'd erupted like a volcano, spewing out those feelings, making it plain he would never forgive Micah for giving life to such an idea. He'd stormed from the room, Micah calling after him, demanding he not walk away, not knowing he couldn't go after him. But he'd kept on walking, running, he'd come up here to his room. He'd paced back and forth as he tried to make sense of the senseless. He couldn't understand how if Micah loved him like he said he did, how he could even think of him being with another man let alone suggest he find one and jump into his bed. He'd doubted his love then.

He'd slowly calmed down, then headed back to Micah's wanting an answer to a question he was actually terrified of hearing, "Do you love me?"

"Yes, more than you will ever know." Had been Micah's reply, "I want you to be happy..."

"I am." He'd insisted and with that had put an end to the conversation.

....

Paul had cornered him first thing the next morning. Shepherding him from the bathroom back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, nothing was going to stop him having his say.

"Shout at me all you like, but don't take it out on Cass. She's too easy a target!"

He'd sat on his bed, hanging his head, he knew he had it coming. He'd take a bollocking for his behaviour, but what he couldn't, wouldn't listen to was what he was certain was coming next.

"Micah didn't want this for you; he wanted you to be happy. He believed you would grieve and then move on..."

He'd heard enough, no way was he listening to anymore, he was getting to his feet when he felt Paul's hands on his shoulders pushing him back down, holding him in place.

"This, what you're doing now is wrong. You walk out of the room if someone just mentions his name. You won't talk about him, not even to Emmy..."

"She gets upset!" Well she did and he couldn't bear to see her pain, it made his a hundred times worse.

"At the moment she does yes, and that's normal, it's a healthy response, its part of the grieving process. But it will get easier for her with time and it would be a lot easier for you if you did the same, if you didn't keep your grief to yourself, if you didn't just bottle it up inside."

"I'm not." He cried too, endless bitter tears. He had last night after waking from that awful dream. Just because he shed his tears in private didn't mean he wasn't grieving too.

"You need to talk about Micah, but you avoid doing so. You're avoiding me. You're avoiding everyone who cares about you. When was the last time we sat down and ate together? When was the last time we talked? When was the last time you went to the Plough? I'll tell you when. The day of Micah's funeral. You've been keeping yourself to yourself ever since that day. Apart from the garage all you see are these four walls..."

"I went out the other night, and last night..."

"Yes to a place where no one knew you! Where you thought your sour face would stop anyone coming within a mile of you. But when someone did, when you realised you were going to have to talk about something other than the weather what did you do, you did another runner..."

"I brought him back here!"

"No, Craig brought you here! He's gone out of his way twice now to do you a favour. After last night's strop I wouldn't expect to see him for dust but something tells me he'll be back!"

"No!"

"It might be a little too soon to think about another relationship especially when you haven't got anywhere close to accepting Micah's gone, but that doesn't mean you two can't be friends. He cares, genuinely cares about you, as we all do. Your mums worried sick about you, me too. You're not eating properly, you're not sleeping properly, I know you're having nightmares, I know you're wandering around your room at all hours of the night because you're too scared to go back to sleep."

It was all true so he wasn't going to deny it but then he wasn't going to admit to it either, Paul really would have something to get his teeth into if he did.

"I need to get ready for work."

"You're doing it again, shutting me out!"

"No, I just want you to leave me alone, to stop banging on at me..."

"Well I'm not going too. I promised Micah I'd get you through this..."

"I don't need..."

"See this?"

Paul had grabbed hold of his hand, pointing to his knuckles, to the bruised broken skin,

"This is what's going to happen, this is how it's all going to come pouring out. You're either going to hurt yourself or someone else, someone you care about."

He'd told Paul to go downstairs, that he'd be down for breakfast, that he just needed a minute to himself. The older man had reluctantly left him, he obviously had a lot more to say but he'd maybe realised he'd said enough for the time being.

As he'd got dressed, he'd gone over Paul's words; no he didn't like talking about Micah. It hurt too much, and anyway he wanted to keep his memories of him to himself, he didn't care how selfish that was. And yes he was avoiding people, but he wouldn't have to if they didn't all want to make him do something he didn't want to do. As for him kicking off, losing control, well he wouldn't let it happen again.

He'd forced down the toast Paul had made him, the last thing he felt like doing was eating, but if it got Paul off his back it was worth the effort.

He'd been on his second mug of tea when his phone had let out a message alert. He was in no hurry to find out what it said or who it was from, not bothering to check it until he was on his way down the hill to work. He was taken aback to see it was from Craig. He might be in need of a friend but he couldn't be that desperate surely. He'd sent a two word message, not the two he deserved! The simple 'You ok?' making him feel an inch big for walking off and leaving him standing there last night. None of it had been Craig's fault, he'd asked for a coffee not to be witness to a family row. He owed him an apology. He quickly tapped one out and sent it, a reply coming back within seconds. 'No prob, c u later'

No he f****n' wouldn't!

....

Lunch time and with Joe off somewhere doing 'a bit of business' he and Ben were taking it in turns to get something to eat. Ben had nipped home leaving him to mind things at the garage. They had plenty of work on and he'd tried to lose himself in the various jobs, but Micah was always there, he was always in his head, and he wanted him there but there were some things that had happened between them that he'd like to be able to forget.

He'd completely forgotten about Craig though, or had until he heard the unmistakable sound of his car's engine.

He walked across the forecourt ready for when he pulled up, that way he wouldn't have to get out of the car, he'd tell him how busy he was and send him on his way. Walking around to the driver's side he eyed the older man questioningly,

"I'm here to ask a favour nothing else."

"What is it?"

"I've got a rally coming up and there's a few things wanting doing on the car, I thought maybe you could do the work, mates rates?"

He wanted to say no, which was all he ever seemed to say to Craig but heard himself agreeing to it. That's when he noticed Craig's attention was somewhere else, turning around to see what had caught his eye, he realised it was Ben, well he wasn't going to get anywhere with him either. "He's straight!"

Feigning disappointment Craig said, "So are you the only gay in the village?"

He knew it was just a joke, a reference to a popular TV comedy, but it had hit a raw nerve and he just couldn't see the funny side, "I am now!" Turning around he stalked back towards the garage, Craig now out of the car and following him, an apology quick off his lips,

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Bram carried on walking, he hadn't needed another reminder that Micah had left him. Suddenly he was angry, the emotion surging up from nowhere, but it wasn't Craig he was angry at.

"Bram?"

Craig had caught hold of him arm now, and was hauling him around to face him. Bram balled his hands into fists and before he could stop himself he was letting one fly...

His fist hadn't connected with anything solid; something had prevented it from reaching its target, a forearm crashing against his own having deflected the blow. In the same instance, a voice had cut through his rage with a bold determination, "No!" That same calm strength then taking on a physical form, his arms were being forced to his sides and he propelled backwards, coming to a shuddering mind clearing halt as he impacted with the side of the car he'd been working on. There was barely an inch separating him and Craig now, and he could only look up into the green eyes staring so intently into his. The warmth he'd seen that first night was still there, and the understanding, even now after what he'd just tried to do.

"Bram, that's not the answer."

The gentleness in Craig's voice caused another emotion to surface, and Bram had to fight to stifle it, not liking how it had made him feel inside.

"What's going on? Bram?" Ben had seen what looked to be a scuffle and had run over to stop it going any further than that, and it had certainly looked like he was going to have to intervene.

Craig had released his hold on him and taken a step back, was now well out of his face.

He didn't know if he was relieved at Ben's intervention or not, it had shattered a moment that no matter how unsettling, he'd wanted to hold on to just a little longer, but at the same time he'd been scared by the spell he seemed to have been under. It didn't make sense, but then nothing did anymore.

"Nothin'," He reassured his friend, "He's just going." He turned his back on Craig then, his attention apparently now on the engine he'd been fixing. But he was all too aware of the man standing behind him, much too aware. He wasn't moving, he wasn't going anywhere, it seemed he wasn't going to be dismissed so easily this time. He forced himself to turn round, to meet his steady gaze.

"Phone me, please."

The quietly spoken plea had him nod his head slightly in response; he hoped it would be enough of one, that Craig wouldn't feel the need to press him for verbal confirmation. Ben was still hovering nearby and he didn't want him hearing anything else that might pass between them, certainly not the tremor he knew would be in his voice or the concern in Craig's.

Craig had flashed him a small smile, the reassuring kind, before heading back to his car; he'd stood and watched him go, suddenly unable to take his eyes off him.

"Who's that?" Ben demanded, he'd been convinced things were going to turn ugly between Bram and the stranger, but now he couldn't quite make out what was going on between them, but something definitely was.

"A friend." Paul was right, there was no reason he and Craig couldn't be friends, but that's all they ever would be.

He'd gone for his lunch then, hoping Ben would have lost interest in his visitor by the time he got back, and that he wouldn't mention what he'd witnessed to Joe. He really didn't need a grilling from his uncle, and he certainly didn't want him thinking he'd had some sort of set-to with a customer; he really would be in trouble then.

He made for the café, hoping it would be quiet, it was, it was almost empty in fact. After paying for his sandwich he'd sat in the corner, his back turned to the few customers that were present. He didn't want to give them any opportunity to meet his eye, to feel they could start a conversation he didn't want to have. Even people he knew only slightly would ask how he was, and he hated it, well he wasn't sick, he wasn't hurt in anyway but the way they looked at him you'd swear he was, their eyes full of pity. He didn't want or need it. So far he'd managed to keep a civil tongue in his head but it was getting harder and harder to keep from snapping back at them.

Paul was right! What had just happened with Craig proved that, he was going to end up hurting someone; he wouldn't be able to stop himself. His temper always got the better of him.

He had his phone in his hand, Craig's number on the screen, he had no intentions of phoning him now, later maybe, right now he just wanted the reassurance that he could. But when he did, if he did. What would he say? I'm scared! Because he was. He was suddenly scared of what he might do next.

Emmy had always been a presence you couldn't miss and she'd just bustled into the cafe shattering the calm that had been around him.

"There you are! Ben said you wouldn't be far."

Unfortunately for him he wasn't nearly far enough, this was all he needed. He leant back in his chair, arms crossed, already on the defensive, annoyed at Emmy just for sitting opposite him, for trespassing on his space. He needed time to think. He didn't want her wittering on at him and that's exactly what she'd do. She'd start off talking about something and nothing but it would always lead to Micah, then she'd get tearful, even if there was a smile on her face the tears would still be in her eyes, ready to fall. It was like some contagious disease, because he'd want to cry then, acknowledge what she was feeling. He knew he should be strong for her, wrap his arms around her, comfort her the best he could, but instead he would always walk away, he had no doubts he'd do the same today. How weak and pathetic he was.

If she'd noticed his irritation with her she wasn't letting on, she just went right on talking, she was rambling on about the postman now! How he'd knocked on her door and handed her a small package and how delighted she'd been when she'd opened it. Like he cared!

She reached in her bag and was now pressing what she had in her hands into his.

"I left these at my sister's, she found them and sent them over, I thought you'd like to see them."

He gazed down at what he now realised was a photograph, at the face smiling up at him. The brown eyes seemed to be looking directly into his. If those eyes had been real, if they could see...if by some miracle it had been Micah in the flesh...he would hate the man looking back at him...but not nearly as much as he hated himself.

Bram made some excuse, told Emmy he'd look at the pictures when he had more time, then he'd left her sitting there, on her own. He could feel her eyes on him, knew he'd hurt her, knew he could put that right if he just turned around and shared with her those very precious, frozen moments in time. But he couldn't, not today and probably never.

He wanted to go home, he wanted to go to his room and cry! The need was so intense, hard to suppress. This was what talking to Emmy did to him, every time. She always got to him, always. But it was the middle of the day, he had work to do, he couldn't give in to his emotions now. He was going to have to force them down, lock them away and tonight, like last night, he'd go to bed and cry into his pillow...if he could! Sometimes the tears came easily, too easily, they'd catch him unawares. Other times, when he really needed some release, they stubbornly refused to fall. Like the day of the funeral.

It had been a warm, early summer's day, the sun daring to shine. A grey, rain burdened sky would have been more befitting the mood below. The scent of flowers had filled the air... Flowers! Micah had often joked about him giving him flowers. But because Micah hadn't been serious, because he hadn't for one minute taken him seriously, and because he just didn't do such cissy, soppy things like that anyway, he never had. Not until that day, and it would be for the first and the last time.

The wreath had lay atop the coffin along with Emmy's. He'd sat in the church looking at it as he listened to Ashley tell everyone what he and they already knew, how good and how loving a man Micah was.

Emmy had been constantly wiping away tears, but his eyes had been dry, painfully dry, as he'd stared unblinkingly ahead.

Then it had been time to say goodbye, and like John and Paul he'd tossed a handful of earth into the grave. Emmy though had been holding two roses, one white, one red. She'd given the red one to him and after letting hers fall from her hand she'd stepped back, giving him the privacy she knew he needed. He'd guessed the significance of a red rose and after holding it to his lips he had made a promise to Micah, then he'd let the velvety bloom slip through his fingers.

His legs had been trembling as he'd walked away, Paul and Joe having to steady him but still there had been no tears, it was if he had none left. But that night, as the sun went down, as he lay in his bed alone, when it had hit him that Micah was lying all alone in the dark too, the flood gates had opened. And he'd cried and cried and wished he too was dead.

....

He'd only been back at the garage five minutes and Ben was already pestering him about Craig. He told him he was after having some work done on his car, which was true, he didn't need to know anything else, not that there was anything else to tell him, he was just a friend.

Joe had appeared out of nowhere a few hours later and he'd quietly asked Ben not to mention Craig to him, telling him he was going to do the work on the side, and not to let it slip to his uncle. He knew Ben would keep something like that to himself.

Joe had made a beeline for him; he'd been expecting him to ask if he'd finished what needed doing on the engine. It had been a straightforward job so he was going to be able to say he had. But it wasn't the engine he wanted to talk to him about.

"I've just been talking to Cass, she's upset, she's really worried about you."

"Really?" He hadn't been able to keep the scorn out of his voice, like Paul had said, his mother was too easy a target. Well she'd asked for it! She was asking for another mouthful too, she'd obviously ratted on him, told her big brother what had happened last night. Why couldn't she have just kept it to herself, the cow! Now Joe was going to have a pop at him about it.

His uncle had given a him a 'let's have less of the attitude' look, then gestured towards the garage. He knew why he wanted him in there, well out of Ben's earshot, so he could have another quiet word with him; his mum had probably put him up to it. He was sure she was responsible for his last attempt. Well he was having none of it! He didn't need a telling off or a concerned talking to; he'd just had both off Paul and he couldn't stomach another dose. It seemed there was only one way of ensuring he didn't get one, so he turned around and started towards the road.

"Where'd you think you're going?"

"Home!" He yelled over his shoulder, he knew he had to get away before he said or did something else he would regret.

"Not on my time you're not!"

Joe had just said the wrong thing! It was like a red rag to a bull. "I'm on my own time now. You can stick your job up your arse!"

His uncle was yelling after him, ordering him back to work. Well he was just wasting his breath, he didn't want to know.

But Paul had wanted to know why he was home so early and he'd told him, but only the bits he wanted him to know, Joe would no doubt tell him the rest. His bit of news had earned him another ear bashing, Ok so he was jobless, so what? He wasn't bothered. He really didn't give a toss! He didn't give a toss about anything anymore.

He'd left Paul shaking his head and gone upstairs to take a shower, hoping the hot water would help soothe some of the tension his body seemed encased in. He ached all over and his head felt ready to explode. It hadn't helped in anyway and so he'd lain on his bed, closing his eyes willing sleep to come. He needed to escape from the world around him; he needed some peace...just like Micah had done!

He didn't like having such dark thoughts again, it scared him. But sometimes, like now. When it all got too much, when the ache in his heart became unbearable, drowning in endless darkness seemed his only hope of such peace. Where else would he find it?

He'd eventually fallen asleep, waking up in a cold sweat a few hours later. He pushed himself up off the bed, wiping furiously at his eyes. That dream again, he couldn't even doze off now in the day without it torturing him. The feeling of hopelessness it always left him with was unbearable, it made him restless, on edge. He paced back and forth trying to walk off the unease. He would have gone down stairs and made himself a drink but he didn't want to run into Paul, he was avoiding him again, well the way he was feeling right now he didn't trust himself around him.

Maybe he should phone Craig? No! He wasn't ready to do that. He'd go into town though, he could do with a drink, and of something a lot stronger than tea. Maybe that's where he was going wrong? Didn't people drink to drown their sorrows? Wasn't alcohol supposed to numb the pain? He'd soon find out. Snatching up his phone he made for the door, he was going to get bladdered.

....

Well he wasn't drunk. He'd maybe had one too many but then he'd needed it; he needed what Paul called Dutch courage.

On his way here, he'd sat looking out of the bus window, at the miles slowly passing by. The further he'd got away from Hollsy the calmer he'd got, it was like he was leaving his problems behind him. He'd had a bad day, the worst, no not the worst, he'd already had that. But he'd realised that everything that had happened today had been of his own making. He'd realised something else too, that it hadn't all been bad. That there had been a moment when he'd actually stopped hurting, a fleeting respite from the pain he thought would never leave him. It had scared him and then he'd felt guilty but now he just hoped it had been real. That moment when Craig had...when he'd...what was it he'd done? Overpowered him? Stopped him making another unforgivable mistake? Well whatever it was he'd felt safe, like nothing could hurt him anymore. But that moment had passed so quickly and now he wanted to know that feeling again.

Paul's lecture had echoed inside his head, one thing in particular hitting home... 'Micah wanted you to be happy'...Of course he did but it wasn't happening, and he knew it was because he wasn't letting it happen. He wasn't sure how to. But something was now drawing him here; to the building he'd been in a few nights back, where he'd made a complete idiot of himself.

He was making his way to Craig's flat. At least he hoped it was Craig's flat, he'd had other things on his mind the other night and hadn't been taking much notice of his surroundings. He didn't even know if Craig would be in or not, part of him hoped he was the other part hoped he wasn't. Still he was steadily making his way up the stairs.

Knocking on the door he waited what he thought was a reasonable time and had been about to knock again when his courage suddenly deserted him. He'd lost his nerve and with something now telling him that him coming here was a bad idea, he decided to go home. But only for a second or two because the door was now opening, Craig standing there smiling at him, seemingly pleased to see him. He wasn't sure how he felt about seeing him though; suddenly he was feeling very uneasy.

"Well don't just stand there, come in."

He made his way into the living room, dropping down onto the sofa, sitting in the exact same spot he had the other night, Craig in the chair opposite.

"I was going to ask you if you were ok, but that's a bit of a stupid question, because you wouldn't be taking cheap shots at your mum and pot shots at me if you were!"

Craig didn't pull any punches did he? Bram shook his head saying, "It gets worse."

"I know you've been drinking." Craig could smell alcohol on the younger man.

"I thought it might help."

"And has it?"

"No. Maybe I haven't had enough."

"I think you've had more than enough, I'll make us a coffee."

As Craig got to his feet Bram protested, "I don't drink coffee."

"You do now!"

If he was stubborn, then Craig was bossy!

As the older man busied himself in the kitchen, Bram took a look around him. Craig had a nice place, and he kept it nice, it was tidy, uncluttered, did that mirror his life? He wouldn't want him in it if it did!

He didn't know anything about Craig, well not much, his name, his age, where he lived, and that he was into rallying, that was about it. He didn't even know what he did for a living, if he actually worked. He must do, how could he afford a place like this otherwise? Craig had to have told him, he just hadn't been listening at the time.

"Does Paul know where you are?"

Taking the mug from Craig's outstretched hand he couldn't help but snap back, "I am over eighteen, I don't have to tell him my every move."

"If you knew just how worried about you he is then you would!"

He looked down into his mug, he knew he was putting Paul through hell and he wasn't proud of it.

"You know I thought he was your dad!"

He could hear a tinge of embarrassment in Craig's voice now, and he wanted to tell him he wasn't the first to think that, "Micah..." He bit back on the words, no he didn't really want to go there.

"What about him?"

There it was again, the gentle encouragement that he didn't think should be there. Why did he want to know about Micah? It was him he was interested in or had been, why did he want him to tell him about a man he'd had a relationship with, a man he'd lived with, slept with and loved with all his heart, still loved. He knew the answer to that, it was to help him. Yesterday he'd told him he didn't want or need his help but now he realised he did. "He thought he was too."

Craig was smiling at him again, his eyes radiating a reassuring warmth, and for the first time in months he too was smiling.

....

Bram had to force the coffee down, he'd have much preferred tea. Still it was hot and sweet and had helped sober him up, not that he was that far gone! Just not as clear headed as he would like.

"So did something happen after I left?" Craig knew something had, something had forced Bram in to lowering his defences, in to coming to him.

"Yeah." Where did he start? "I upset Micah's mum. Told my boss where he could stick his job. Had more words with Paul. Thought about..." There was no need to tell him that bit, he wasn't thinking about topping himself any longer.

"Thought about what?"

"Coming here." It was a white lie; it had been at the back of his mind.

"To talk? Because it sounds to me like you need to." The younger man had certainly packed a lot into his afternoon; he'd definitely been in self-destruct mode today.

"So everyone keeps telling me." Today it had finally sunk in.

"But you're not much of a talker are you, not even at the best of times?" Was that Bram's way by nature or had someone hurt him emotionally and made it so very difficult for him to open up?

"No. Micah used to say I..." Again he felt his throat tighten, his mouth go dry, he was scared of saying something that would bring on the tears.

"Go on, it will get easier."

Would it? He wasn't so sure about that. "He used to say he had to drag things out of me. In the beginning he did but then...then when I began to trust him, I'd tell him anything and everything."

"You don't trust easily?" He knew for sure now that he'd been hurt, that someone somewhere had done a number on him.

"No." He didn't, he could count on one hand the people he did trust, and they'd had to earn that trust.

"I'm hoping you know you can trust me, but then I don't think you'd be here if you didn't."

"No." No he wouldn't be, he didn't know why he trusted Craig, he'd only known him a few days, and the fact he did trust him scared the hell out of him!

"So tell me about Micah,"

"What do you want to know?" He was playing for time now, even for just a second's grace.

Echoing Bram's earlier words Craig said, "Anything and everything." By getting to know Micah he'd also get to know Bram, and hopefully in the process be able to help him move on, because right now he was floundering in dark and dangerous territory.

"He took a lot of crap from me in the beginning."

"He obviously thought you were worth it." Just like he himself did, he was undeniably attracted to Bram. From what he'd seen so far he knew he was deep and sensitive, and could be intense and passionate. He didn't think he'd admit to being any of those things, he probably didn't even realise he was. But he could see it, and Micah obviously had. He'd also proven to be loyal and devoted where Micah was concerned. There was a lot to like, to admire. He didn't doubt he had his faults, stubbornness for one and more were sure to come to light, but no one was perfect, he certainly wasn't.

He'd taken a fair bit of crap off Bram too and would probably be on the receiving end of some more, he'd willingly take it; he was dishing it out for a reason. But when he'd worked through his grief, when he was ready to love someone else, he'd be waiting.

"Well he was wrong! He was wrong to give me all those chances, he was wrong to love me."

There was a lot of anger behind those words; it had taken Craig by surprise. but he wasn't sure who it was directed at, Micah or Bram himself? Micah? Definitely Micah, and now he knew what this was really all about. "But he did, so don't lessen what he felt for you. That's not fair to him or to you."

Was that what he'd just done? He hadn't meant to! How was all this helping? It wasn't, it was just tying his insides up into more knots. He couldn't do this.

"Bram?" The young man had just shut down before his very eyes, maybe he should have been more tactful but what good would pussyfooting around him do, he needed to face up to his feelings, to his grief. "You're angry at him, at Micah."

"No!" He loved him, loved him enough to let him go, so no he wasn't angry at Micah. If he was angry at anyone he was angry at himself. For all the times he hadn't been there for him, for the unforgivable things he'd said to him in the heat of an argument, for the things he should have done differently, and there were so many things he would do differently, if given the chance. He was eyeing Craig questioningly now, why was he trying to make him admit to things that weren't true? Maybe he was wrong to trust him, maybe it was time for him to go? "It's getting late, the last bus is due any minute..."

"I'll take you home but not just yet." He wasn't about to let Bram go anywhere. He knew if he walked out the door now, he'd not come back. "You came here to talk remember and you've not done nearly enough of that." That had earned him a scowl, but no verbal protest, he might be hating every minute of this, finding it almost impossible to endure but deep down Bram knew he had to do it. Deciding the younger man might need a few minutes to settle into it again Craig got to his feet, "I'll make us another drink. Tea?"

"Yeah, thanks." He didn't want another drink and he didn't want to be here but it seemed Craig was on a mission, what did he think he was? A ticking time bomb needing to be defused? Remembering his day he realised that's exactly what he was.

....

He could see Craig from where he was sitting and like this afternoon he found himself watching him, only this time he was wondering why he didn't have someone in his life. From what he'd seen of him so far he didn't think he'd have any trouble attracting a man or keeping him. He certainly liked him, but not in that way!

Craig was making his way back in to the room with their drinks now, and wanting to keep the heat off himself for a little longer Bram decided it was time to find out more about him. "Where was it you lived before?"

"The other side of Leeds."

"So why'd you move here?"

"I was growing restless, fancied a change of scenery, then I heard there was a post wanting filling here so I applied for it and got it. Finding a gay club more or less on my doorstep was an added bonus!"

"What was it you said you did again?"

Was Bram actually showing some interest in him or just trying to shift the attention away from himself? The latter most probably, "I'm a fire fighter, have been for the past five years... now enough about me. Did you meet Micah in Bart's?"

A fire fighter! Yeah he suited the job somehow. The firemen that had got Micah out of what was left of his car had all been brilliant. All calm, caring, professionals. One of them had taken him aside, and had managed to calm him down a little, then had explained what they were going to have to do. He could see Craig being equally as efficient in an emergency situation.

"Bram?"

"Yeah, that's where we met." And it seemed a very long time ago now, so much had happened. Good and bad.

"Here," Handing Bram his mug of tea he then sat down beside him, not too close but he wanted things to be a little less impersonal between them, Bram might find it easier to talk if he did, "So who did the chatting up?" He asked jokingly," "you or him?" He couldn't see Bram doing it somehow, but then he might just surprise him.

Bram shook his head at the memory, "It wasn't like that. It was a mess, I was a mess. I hadn't come out then; I'd been denying I was gay for years...to myself I mean. I didn't want to be gay. I messed him about for weeks. I liked him, I really liked him but I was scared, so scared of being found out that I hit him. I punched him in the face." Tears! They'd come out of nowhere and he was having to wipe them away.

"It was ages before we got together properly. All that wasted time, time we could have been together. All because I couldn't accept I was gay, because I thought it was wrong to love another man, to share his bed."

Craig hadn't realised it had been that hard for Bram, "I know it's a lot harder for some than for others." He'd not had any real difficulty himself, but then one thing he wasn't lacking in was confidence, and he'd never cared what other people thought about him. As far as he was concerned people either excepted him or they didn't, and if they didn't it was their problem not his.

"I made it harder for myself and impossible for Micah."

"Not so impossible you two didn't get together."

"You don't understand." Craig had no idea how he was back then.

"Then help me understand."

He was going to have to tell him everything to do that, starting with him trying to kiss Lee, and then everything that led up to the court case. What would Craig think of him then?

"Bram?"

By the time he'd forced it all out there were more tears running down his cheeks, more proof of how weak he was, how pathetic he was. He wiped them away with his sleeve, ashamed of just how easily he cried.

"It's alright," It's what Bram needed right now, to let some hurt out.

"No it's not! All that s**t's in the past." He'd like to think it was but he knew it would always raise its ugly head. If he was ever to meet someone else. not that he wanted to, he'd have to tell them all that wouldn't he? He heaved a sigh, he'd had more than enough now, he needed some sleep. "I'm tired."

Craig looked at his watch, "It's gone one!" He hadn't realised it was that late. Bram looked exhausted; it was time they called it a night. "I'll take you home or the offer of the sofa is still good, it's up to you."

He didn't want Craig running him around this time of the morning, he'd put him out enough as it was, "The sofa sounds good."

"Right I'll sort some blankets out you text Paul and let him know you're here."

After sending Paul a message letting him know he was ok and stopping at Craig's, he made his way to the bathroom, catching an unwelcome glimpse of himself in the mirror, not a pretty sight! His eyes were red and he could do with a shave, he couldn't remember when he'd last had one. So what, who cared what he looked like, he certainly didn't.

He'd spent the next hour tossing and turning, the sofa was comfortable enough, the room warm and he was tired to the bone but sleep just wouldn't come. He was just getting more and more irritable so decided to get up and make himself a drink, he knew Craig wouldn't mind.

As he waited for the kettle to boil he realised Craig was also up and about, he could hear him padding along the hallway, appearing by the doorway a few seconds later. Again he found himself looking at him, and with Craig now dressed in only a pair of boxers he found himself liking what he saw! But that wasn't right! He shouldn't be having those sort of thoughts; Micah wasn't even ... he looked away quickly, reaching for another mug and saying, "Do you want one?"

"Yeah go on. So you can't sleep either?"

"It's that coffee you made me drink."

Bram had flashed him a grin with that comment, his face softening, and without any trace of grief marring his features he was one good looking lad! "What's keeping you awake, the sofa?"

"No it's fine, I've just got so much going on in my head, I can't switch it off."

It didn't surprise Craig, Bram had relived a nightmare earlier, he'd lain awake going over what he'd told him, he was having a hard time digesting it all, especial the horrifying fact he'd attempted suicide, "You went through hell."

"A hell of my own making," He didn't want Craig's sympathy, he wasn't worthy of any, "Like I told you before it didn't have to be that way." He'd started to walk away, wanting to bring that line of conversation to a halt, but Craig had caught hold of his arm, and he'd been forced to meet his gaze.

"Why are you so hard on yourself?"

The gentle inquisition was the last straw. For some reason it had got to him. He felt a lump form in his throat, tears formed and trickle down his cheeks. He couldn't look away from the warmth and understanding in the green eyes, and when the older man wrapped his arms around him offering the comfort he needed he let him.

For a little while all he'd been aware of was the quiet strength holding him, soothing him. But he was now slowly becoming aware of something else. A closeness, a tenderness, a warmth...body heat. Someone else's flesh touching his, the scent fresh, clean and unmistakably male. He lifted his head from where it had been nestling against Craig's shoulder, his eyes meeting the older man's before slowly moving to settle on his lips, before covering them with his own... tasting, gently melding...

His heart had started to beat a little faster when Craig's lips had responded to his. The kiss tender and slow to deepen, to suddenly turn more heated as passion ignited. They were blindly making for the bedroom now, devouring each other's mouth, hands wildly exploring the new and unknown territory.

Not nearly soon enough they were falling down on to the bed together, Craig's weight on his, then suddenly it was gone, leaving his arms empty, his lips cold, him bereft. The older man now standing over him, shaking his head. What had he done wrong?

"No, no Bram we can't do this."

"What?" Why couldn't they, Craig had wanted to, had been ready to, he'd felt him harden fast against his belly. He'd wanted him just a minute ago, why not now. He got to his feet confused, wanting, needing an explanation.

"Us now? It's not a good idea. Not while you're still holding on to Micah."

"No!"

"He's in your head, so who would you have been making love to in your head, him or me?"

"That's sick!"

"Call it what you like but it's true! He's still here, standing between us and you're the one keeping him here. Even if it was me you wanted you'd have ended up regretting it, resenting me, hating yourself, believing you betrayed him. Bram I want you but only when it's me you want!"

"I do!" He did. Didn't he? He'd not been thinking about Micah, or had he? His head was so messed up right now he didn't know. He couldn't be sure. God what had he done now? "I'm sorry!" He forced the words out through his passion swollen lips and made for the living room, picking up his clothes only to find them snatched from his hands by Craig, the older man tossing them back onto the floor.

"What are you doing, you can't go home now."

"I can't stay."

"Why not, we just need to talk this through..."

"I'm through with talking ..."

"You're running away again, like you did that first night, like you've been doing all you're life. You're scared to face up to what's causing you all this pain. It's easier to run but you can't run forever..."

"I'm not scared of anything. I'm not running from anything. I just want to get away from you."

"You wanted to sleep with me a minute ago..."

"I just wanted sex that's all, something quick but satisfying, it wouldn't mean anything. You just happened to be in the right place at the right time!"

He didn't like the hateful tone Bram had used against him, or the fact he actually seemed to believe what he'd just said. It seemed the walls were up again, his defences back in place. "Alright, if that's all you want." Pulling Bram to him he kissed him roughly, their lips crashing hungrily, his tongue invading his mouth, his hands moving wantonly over him. There was no tenderness now or passion like there had been minutes ago, just meaningless lust, Bram needed reminding of the difference. He was responding to it so far, but not for long. He could sense the panic rising inside the younger man, his unease, and quickly pulled away before Bram felt the need to struggle, he didn't want to take this too far, "No that's not what you wanted. You're not an easy lay and you know I'm not either." He wasn't into casual sex, it had to mean something to him, and it would with Bram, because even in such a short space of time he'd come to truly care about him. But he was so vulnerable right now, his head, his emotions all over the place; he didn't want him regretting anything that happened in his bed tonight because one day he wanted it to be Bram's bed too.

Bram was wiping at his mouth, like it would wipe away what had just happened. Yes he'd wanted Craig but no not like that. Why had he said those things? And it had been Craig he wanted, not Micah, he was certain about that now. But in the morning he would have regretted it, he would have felt he'd cheated on Micah. So Craig was right, just like Micah was always right! "You're just like him."

"What?"

"Wanting to prove a point, not happy til you do!."

Open anger now at Micah, finally. Now they were getting somewhere! Craig knew he needed to prepare himself for the fallout.

"He was always wanting to talk everything through,"

"Because it's wrong to hold what hurts you inside, to try and bury it, because it won't stay dead. Micah knew that."

"He thought he knew everything, even what was best for me! He said I was stubborn but you couldn't talk him round, not when he'd made up his mind about something, like he made his mind up about..."

"About what?" Craig pushed.

Bram shook his head he wasn't going to talk about that.

"Tell me."

No he wasn't going there. He'd tell Craig something else, that would shut him up. "He tried to dump me twice! First because he knew I was scared, he didn't think I could handle the way he was, that I'd end up dumping him. He said some horrible things, cruel things and I believed him. Emmy had to put me right. I promised him I wouldn't let him down and I meant it, because I loved him. Then he told me I needed to meet someone else so I could have a 'normal' relationship, like he knew better than me what I needed! But I wouldn't, couldn't and I didn't. I didn't want to, or need to. I just wanted him. There was no way we ever could...but just being with him was enough for me because I loved him. Twice he tried to push me away!"

"Because he loved you."

"Yeah, that's what he said and I believed him but..."

"But what? What's the real reason you're angry at him."

"I'm not." But he was, deep inside he was and had been ever since he'd first mentioned the unthinkable to him. At first he'd let him see that anger but then he'd realised like everyone else that they were fighting a losing battle. So he'd had to be the strong one, and no matter how much it hurt and God how it had hurt, he had had to let him go. Tears were blinding him again, too many to wipe away. Craig was reaching out to him, well he didn't want him touching him, not now, not ever again and so shrugged his arms away.

He'd loved Micah but when it came to it Micah hadn't really loved him, not enough, not nearly enough, he wouldn't have wanted to leave him if he had!

Craig could see the hurt on the younger man's face, and knew hidden behind the tears there would be that faraway look. Bram was trapped in some memory again. The past drawing him back time and time again. But he wouldn't find what he was looking for there, he had to look into his heart for that. He was going to have help open his eyes, help him see a truth he'd somehow lost sight of. "He did love you."

"Yeah."

And there it was! The disbelief, ringing loud and clear in his voice. This was the ever increasing weight on his shoulders, the dark cloud over his head, the agony nothing would ease, the reason he was so angry at Micah, the belief he hadn't loved him enough to stay with him, "Bram..."

"I didn't think it would happen, I kept thinking, hoping, praying he'd change his mind. That he'd realise how much I loved him, realise he couldn't leave me, that he didn't really want to leave me here on my own. I loved him so much there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for him, even lie to myself and to him and pretend it was all alright, that I understood. He was so in to it all, he had it all planned. If he'd put as much effort into wanting to live as he did into wanting to die then ...but no. He said he wasn't living, he was existing."

"And you spent every minute you could with him."

"Yeah." Of course he had. When he wasn't working he'd be with Micah, he'd help with his care, take him places, he just wanted to be with him.

"You put your life on hold for him."

"No! He was my life!"

"You were existing not living."

"No!"

"And the world and everything in it was passing you by."

"No."

"He didn't want that for you."

"What about what I wanted? I wanted to be with him."

"And he wanted to be with you but how could he ever truly share your life confined to a wheelchair? Paralysed from the neck down! He could never really be a part of it, not like he wanted to be. He wanted to live his life not sit through it looking on. You could take him to the ends of the earth but he'd still be a prisoner of that chair and worse still of his mind. A young, active mind. Full of wants, wishes, dreams and with little hope of ever making them come true himself. He'd lost his independence, his pride, his dignity. Everything that made him the man he was. That's an irreplaceable loss and in many ways he'd lost you too."

"No, I was there; I was there for him, whenever he needed me."

"But he couldn't touch you, hold you, physically love you like he so wanted to. That yearning for you must have been unbearable at times, more so the need to get up out of that chair and live, really live. Such a sense of helplessness to a man like him would be endless mental torture. He needed to find peace."

"That's what he kept saying! That he needed to know peace."

"Because he knew you loved him and just how much, that you were devoted him, and you proved that to him each and every day, he knew he could ask you to let him go. He was having to let you go too. He was having to leave you behind and step into the unknown alone. But he knew he wasn't leaving you alone. He knew you had Paul, his mum, your mum. And more than anything he knew you'd meet someone else, that they would love you, just like he did. Don't you see? He loved you Bram, more than life itself, he wanted to give you back your life and he wanted you to live your life and be happy. What was the last thing he said to you?"

"That he loved me."

"You didn't doubt it then?"

"No, I could see it in his eyes; hear it in his voice but..."

"But what? When did you start doubting him? Doubting his love?"

"When I had to leave him there...in that hole in the ground! Knowing he'd chosen to lie there instead of stay with me."

"But he wasn't there! His essence, what made him who he was, his soul! It wasn't there. Because you'd love him enough to let him go you'd set it free... just like he loved you enough to set yours free."

More tears! Brought on by a truth that had been cruelly veiled by grief. Craig could only stand there now and watch them fall and wait helplessly for a sign, a sign telling him Bram was ready to let him comfort him. He could see he was fighting to keep control. Painfully catching his breath in a vain bid to stop the sound of grief escaping from his throat. His shoulders were tensing, his arms wrapped around himself, trying to keep all the emotion inside, the buried emotion he so desperately needed to release.

As the first cry of anguish escaped Bram's lips, as his knees began to buckle beneath him, Craig looked through the tears, saw the silent plea in the blue eyes, and reached out for him. Holding him, supporting his weight and gently easing him to the floor. Now all he could do was rock him in his arms until the tears and the sorrow stopped flowing.

....

Awareness had slowly crept upon him, daylight insisting its presence be acknowledged. He'd forced his swollen eyelids open, wiped at his eyes to clear his vision, but he was still bleary eyed. But not so bleary eyed he didn't recognise the room he was in. Craig's! And he was in his bed. He didn't remember getting here. Nothing could have happened in it else he'd have remembered, wouldn't he? He hoped he would.

The last thing he remembered was breaking down, really breaking down, and Craig holding him as he emptied his heart of anger and pain.

....

Craig had slept quite well on the sofa. Better than he thought he would, but once he knew Bram was asleep and seemingly settled for what was left of the night, he'd been able to relax and had then quickly nodded off himself. He'd woken about seven, only what... three hours or so after he'd gone to sleep, but it had been a deep and restful sleep and those few hours had been enough.

The first thing he'd done on waking was to check on the younger man. Finding him still asleep and deciding to let him sleep on. From what he'd said the night before he didn't have a job to go to anymore, so there was no need to disturb him. He'd stood there looking at him for much longer than was necessary, feeling a little guilty for doing so, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He was so easy on the eye and his feelings for him strong, too strong too soon!

Considering what Bram had been through and was still going through it wasn't the best time to have fallen for him, not a good time at all! So with that in mind he was now sat at his kitchen table going over everything that had happened between them and wondering what to do next.

Bram would be seeing things a lot clearer this morning, at least he hoped he would be. He should now be able to work through his grief and come out the other side intact. But how would Bram be viewing him? Maybe that was a selfish thought on his part but after what had so nearly happened between them last night he needed to give it some air time.

While he'd told the younger man all he wanted was friendship, his actions and words last night had proved he wanted something more. It wasn't like him, he was a slow burner normally, but from the first minute he'd set eyes on Bram Hughes he'd been warming up fast.

He'd looked so lost, so melancholy, so very out of place in a club buzzing with life. But he'd been drawn to him, he'd not thought twice about approaching him. Bram had been quiet, distant; sometimes he'd looked to be a million miles away. It hadn't put him off though, far from it, he'd been intrigued. Then Aden, one of the barmen at Bart's Bar, the one who made a point of finding out everybody's business then took great delight in spreading it about, had decided he should know something about the young man he was apparently chatting up, advising him to set his sights elsewhere!

It had been hard to tell if Aden was gossiping for the sake of it like he normally did or was for once offering well intentioned advice. He'd been a little too enthusiastic in the telling of it for his liking but whatever Aden's reasons he'd listened intently to him, keen for some insight into Bram.

It had turned out to be an eventful evening and he'd gone to bed that night thinking about him and then woken up the next morning with him still very much on his mind.

Then there was the business with the phone, him returning it had earned him an earful, but he'd made his intentions clear, Bram's face had been a picture then. He'd obviously seen red at the text he'd later sent him because as he'd sat in Bart's hoping Bram would show up, he'd got a not so nice text back from him making it plain he wouldn't be!

He'd called it a night then and even though there was a chippy not ten yards away from Bart's he'd got in his car and driven to the other side of town for a fish and chip supper. It was if he'd been drawn there, like fate was at play, because who'd been there, giving him what his sixteen year old sister would call 'the evils' Bram! After a bit...no, a lot of farting about on Bram's part he'd reluctantly agreed to a lift home. There he'd witnessed Bram rage at the world and learnt just how worried his family were about him. He knew for certain he couldn't walk away from him then.

He'd got an apology the next morning and with the door now ajar he'd used his car as an excuse and called at the garage to check on him. He'd said something insensitive, something Bram had been upset by and when he'd got too close Bram had taken a swing at him.

He'd seen so much pain in his eyes that he could actually understand Bram's need to hit out. In the few minutes that followed something had passed between them and when he'd asked Bram to get in touch with him, he knew he would.

And he'd been right, he'd turned up here, events having driven him here. He'd opened up to him and then before he knew it they were falling into bed. How had he let that happen? How had he actually stopped it from going any further because he'd wanted Bram so badly right then? Knowing it would be the end of their relationship that's how! Relationship? He couldn't call it that, there was something between them yes but it wasn't a relationship, not yet. So what did he do about that?

Did he take a step back now and let Bram find his way to him if and when he was ready, if he wanted to that was, or did he make his presence felt like he had been doing, making himself hard to ignore...and run the risk of losing him?

....

He could lie here all day! The bed was warm and comfortable and he could smell Craig's aftershave on the sheets, and on the pillow his head had been resting on. It added to the comfort somehow.

He could hear Craig in the kitchen, the clink of mugs telling him he was making a brew, at least he hoped he was, his mouth was so dry.

Maybe he should show willing and join him in the kitchen, he just wasn't so keen to face him this morning. For two no three reasons, possible more. He'd embarrassed himself again although Craig seemed unfazed by everything he said and did. Did nothing get to him? Did he ever lose control like he did? Open his gob and say things he didn't mean? Had he ever punched a man in anger or broken down in another man's arms?

He couldn't see it somehow. He was definitely the cool, calm and collected type. Not even Micah had been that laid back.

Micah! He could think about him this morning without his insides turning in on themselves. The pain was still there though, that hollow ache...but maybe not as bad.

He'd lost himself in a memory of Micah then, and hadn't heard Craig come into the room, not realising he was there until he was standing right beside him, mug of tea in his hand.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Great." He was itching to know if Craig had slept alongside him but how could he ask him that? He did know he wouldn't have minded if he had.

Craig had known Bram was in need of some proper sleep and doubting he'd get it on the sofa had brought him in here, carried him in here; he was a lot heavier than he looked! He'd been sorely tempted to get in beside him, wrap his arms around him and maintain the contact they'd shared for the past hour but had decided against it. It wouldn't have been so innocent between the sheets. Still right now he was wishing he had.

He'd just ten minutes since decided to take a step back, give Bram plenty of space to do the grieving he still needed to do, but now seeing him in his bed, he wasn't so sure he could.

He'd had to tear his eyes away from Bram, the younger man was flushed and sleepy eyed, giving him a come-to-bed appearance that was hard to ignore, especially knowing he was almost naked beneath the covers. He'd made for the door saying, "Come on, I'll make you some breakfast." But then Bram had caught hold of his hand, sending a wave of heat through him. He'd had to look at him again, meet his ever so blue eyes. For a minute he'd thought... hoped it was an invitation to join him between the sheets but no, mercifully no because he knew he wouldn't have had the strength to resist this time.

Craig listened intently to Bram speak, his voice soft, his words true, shyly thanking him for last night, for the last few days, for helping him see the truth. He'd felt guilty then because it hadn't been entirely selfless on his part, he'd wanted to help him yes, but he'd also wanted to get close to him. Now he was finding himself too close. "No probs." That's all he'd said, dismissing it like you would when someone thanked you for doing them a favour. He was going to have to distance himself from Bram and he was having to start doing that now.

So he'd quickly left the room, knowing Bram was watching him go. The younger man had been expecting more from him than that, and he'd wanted to say something more, a lot more. But he'd bit back on his words, on his feelings, taking that essential but so very difficult step back.

He intended keeping the conversation centred on safe things so when Bram joined him by the kitchen table the first thing out of his mouth was, "So what are the chances of you getting your job back?" He knew Bram needed to keep himself occupied, work was a therapeutic distraction, and apart from that he needed a regular wage, who didn't?

Bram frowned saying, "Every chance!"

"Oh?" Craig hadn't been expecting that.

"My uncle owns the garage."

"Ah! So your job will be waiting for you then?"

"Yeah. Joe's an awkward sod; no one else will work for him."

"You'd better get back and show your face then. Eat up, I'll run you home."

"I was going to let him calm down first, there'll still be steam coming out of his ears."

Bram seemed reluctant to leave and he didn't want him to go, but him being here was not a good idea.

....

They were on the way to Hollsy, the miles passing quickly. Craig was talking, but he wasn't really saying anything. He wasn't looking at him either, not like he had been looking at him.

Something had changed since last night, what though and why? That first night in Bart's Bar, Craig had said he was hard work, he must have realised just how hard last night. What was it they called people like him? Oh yeah...high maintenance!

He'd opened his heart to him, told him everything, and he'd seemed to have accepted it all, not judged him, not blamed him, not thought any less of him. But maybe in the cold light of day he wasn't liking what he saw, what he knew. That was understandable, Craig was a good and decent man, what Paul would call an honourable man, well there wasn't anything honourable about him was there? He'd been in trouble with the police, been in court, served a community payback sentence. Beat up two men he loved... and the shameful list went endlessly on. He'd always been trouble and still was. Micah had accepted him, he didn't like or approve of some of the things he'd done and did while they were together but he'd accepted him for what he was, loved him and thanks to Craig he knew just how much. He could never repay him for that.

Maybe Craig was one of those people he'd heard Mo talk about, they breezed into your life and helped you through some crisis and then breezed out again like they'd never been there. Everyday Angels she called them, and she for one truly believed they existed. Was Craig one of these flesh and blood beings or was he just a man, a good and loving man like Micah had been...and someone else he couldn't hold on to.

They were nearly in Hollsy now, and he was dreading the car coming to a halt, something was telling him it wouldn't just be the end of the journey, it would be the end of something else too.

When the car stopped, when Craig left the engine running, making no attempt to invite himself in like he'd done last time, Bram knew he was right. He couldn't just leave it at that though, so swallowing his pride said, "You got any plans for the weekend?" Well it wasn't outright asking was it? Not like him saying will I see you over the weekend?

"I'm back at work tomorrow, rostered on til Tuesday, then on my days off I'm heading home, got a big family do, my brother's eighteenth."

"Right." He'd not asked about his days off, but the fact Craig saw fit to mention them, to let him know he was busy drove home the fact he'd lost all interest. Getting out of the car he stood and took a deep steadying breath, then leant in around the door so he could see Craig, wanting to look him in the eye when he again gave him his heartfelt thanks. And "Thanks." was all he could say, he didn't trust himself with anything more. The older man suddenly looked uneasy, the first time he'd ever looked anything but in control, he was staring unblinkingly ahead of him now as if trying to find something to focus on but then suddenly turned his gaze back on him saying, "You've got my number, and you know where I live."

Craig had been going to say something else, Bram was certain of that but then they'd both been made aware of someone else's presence. Emmy!

She'd shouted his name and so he stood upright and turned to face her, she was standing on the other side of the road but he could tell she was upset.

"Well you didn't waste any time!"

"What?" What did she mean by that? She was storming across the road now, pointing at Craig.

"Him! You and him! Stayed over did you? My Micah's not even cold in the grave and you're warming someone else's bed!"

"No..." Bram wanted to tell her that it wasn't like that, but found he couldn't, because it wasn't quite true was it?

Emmy was in his face now, glaring at him through her tears, her words ripping into him, tearing at his conscience. She'd just accused him of betraying Micah's memory and he was about to open his mouth to say he was sorry when Craig stepped between the two of them insisting they were just friends, that nothing had happened between them.

No, they hadn't slept together, Craig had stopped them going that far and for all the right reasons but something had happened between them, plenty had happened between them! That made them more than friends, a lot more.

He'd woken up this morning realising they had the beginnings of something and he'd found himself liking that idea more and more. He still longed to have Micah back in his life, but he knew that was never going to happen. Overnight it seemed he'd gone from not being able to even think of getting involved with someone else to actually wanting to, and to even knowing who with. Was that wrong? He hadn't thought so, not until Emmy had started in with her tongue lashing; now he wasn't so sure, now he was starting to feel guilty for thinking that way. Anyway it looked to be over before it had even begun so why was he worrying?

Craig had been acting differently towards him, and he didn't know why, well he could hazard a guess. Maybe that was why Craig was able to deny there being a 'them' so easily to Emmy, because whatever was between them was now over as far as he was concerned. He though hadn't been able to deny it because to him it was still very real.

Paul had appeared from somewhere, and was now in the thick of it and all the time the two older men were reasoning with Emmy he was just standing there, listening to them, letting them do his dirty work.

Then suddenly it was all over, the shouting, the anger, calm was restored.

Paul having wrapped a comforting arm around Emmy was now walking with her down the hill, taking her home. Craig was steering him in through the front door.

They were inside now and Craig had hold of his forearms, gently but firmly keeping him close, determinedly holding his gaze and insisting...

"She's upset. She didn't mean what she said."

"But she's right, I did..."

"What happened between us is our business, not hers, not anyone's, just ours. She had no right saying those things to you. You...we did nothing wrong."

"Then why are you regretting it this morning?" Suddenly what Emmy had said wasn't important, Craig's apparent change of heart was.

"I'm not!"

"You're acting like you are! You've been in my face for the last few days, every time I've turned around you've been there. But not this morning! This morning you're wanting to put as much distance between me and you as you can. Is it what I told you? About me, what I've done? I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to get involved with a head case like me but you could at least be upfront about it. Not just turn cold on me and leave me wondering what I've done."

"You haven't done anything, and what you told me hasn't changed what I feel for you. It's what I feel for you that's the problem."

"What?"

He hadn't wanted to do this, he thought it would put pressure on Emmy and that was the last thing he needed. He'd wanted to withdraw from his world as quietly as he could. But he didn't want him thinking he didn't care not when he did and so very much. "I want there to be an 'us' but you're not ready for that, I don't expect you to be, not so soon after losing Micah, so I'm taking a step back until you are."

"No. You don't need to do that. I don't want you to."

"I have to, because like I said last night until you've grieved for Micah, until you've let him go, then there will be three of us in a relationship, you, me and his ghost."

"No!"

"In some way he would come between us, you don't just love him you're still in love with him. You like me, and I think you have deeper feelings stirring for me too but if you're to ever fall in love with me you have to lay that ghost to rest. Until you do there won't be any room in your heart for me."

The anger came out of nowhere and he shrugged off the older man's hands, "So you want to fade into the background until I stop thinking about him, well that's never going to happen!"

"I never said that, that's not what I meant. Micah's always going to be with you and I don't have a problem with that, I just want you to be able to love me like you loved him."

That word scared the hell out of him! He loved Micah and how much pain had that caused him, he didn't want to know pain like that ever again, "Isn't it a bit too soon to be talking love, to even think about it?" They didn't have to love each other to be together.

"Isn't that the direction most relationships aim for! I'm not talking tomorrow; I'm talking sometime in the future. I don't want a fling, or a short interlude, I want something lasting. I thought you did too." Actually he'd not thought about it, he'd just taken it for granted. Big mistake, he could see that now. He was seven years older than Bram, was ready to settle down, Bram was only nineteen and having loved and lost so young he might want to kick up his heels first, have some fun before he took that step.

Did he? He hadn't thought about it but he supposed he did. A relationship would last as long as he was happy with someone and they were happy with him. You didn't go into something expecting it to end at some point, you went in expecting it to last. He'd believed he and Micah would be together forever, "I do." But Craig was already talking about backing off, it just didn't make sense to him, how was that going to work, anything could happen.

"So you're going to just sit back and wait? Not see anyone, not get involved with anyone? You expect me to believe that? Because I don't. Even if you don't make a move on someone, someone's bound to make a move on you and you just might find you like them, really like them and then want them like you said you wanted me."

"I'm not interested in anyone else."

"Maybe not right now! But what about in a few weeks time?" Another thought suddenly hit him, "You weren't going to tell me. You were just going to walk away! Leave me none the wiser. Then what? Hope I came looking for you? What if I didn't? Would you have come sniffing round or just let it go? Just walking away like that, that would be risking what we could have. I don't understand you wanting to do that!"

"Bram listen to me..."

"No! What I said about you being like Micah, its true. You're making decisions for both us, like I'm not capable of making the right one myself, like I can't think for myself. Well I can and I know what I want and I want you. But I'm not playing stupid games, so I'm telling you straight, if you walk away from 'us' now, then that's it, it really is the end."

....

According to Paul, Joe had said that if he didn't show his face at work today then he'd take his 'resignation' seriously. So after Craig had left he'd put on his overalls and made his way to work. As he'd walked into the garage the his uncle had given him a look that would turn milk sour, then barked some instructions at him before carrying on with the conversation he was having over the phone. It seemed he was going to have to wait for the bollocking he knew he had coming from Joe, prolonging the agony, he just wanted it over and done with now.

Joe had given him a right s****y job to do, intentionally probably. Normally he'd moan at getting such a job, protest long and hard about it but not today, he didn't dare open his gob today. After yesterday Joe was likely to stitch it up for him if he did!

The recovery truck was missing, so he knew Ben was on a call out, so with no one talking to him or at him he could let his mind wander back over the last hour unhindered...

He hadn't known how Craig would react to his ultimatum; he'd not thought about that before making it, it had been out of his mouth before he knew it. One thing he had known and that was that he meant it. He and Micah had wasted so much time before they finally got their act together and in the end time together was something they'd had precious little of. He wasn't going to make the same mistake with Craig, he wanted him in his life now not sometime in the future and then only on a maybe.

Craig's reaction had totally thrown him. He'd smiled at him! A smile that had lit up his entire face and made his green eyes greener still. He'd been angry and was wanting to hold onto that anger but on seeing that smile his ire had deserted him like a fair-weather friend would do in times of need. He'd found himself wanting to smile back. He hadn't though. Why? Because he hadn't known what was going through the other man's mind, that's why. For a second or two he'd thought Craig might be laughing at him, but he'd quickly crushed that thought knowing Craig wouldn't do that, he wasn't like that. He'd not been able to reason out what the older man was thinking or why he was looking at him like he was. Like he'd just been given some good news. Had the ultimatum given him the green light he needed to walk away? He'd tried to hide the confusion he felt with a show of irritation and had crossly snapped, "Well?"

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Yeah! If you do one now, that's it!" He'd snapped that out too not wanting to leave Craig in any doubt of his resolve.

The smile had disappeared off Craig's face and he'd turned all serious on him as he'd said, "I didn't mean that bit; I meant the bit about you knowing what you want and you wanting me?"

He'd quickly spat back, "I don't say things I don't mean." But that wasn't true, he was always saying things he didn't mean when he was angry or upset, and Craig knew that and had raised an eyebrow at his comment. "Alright I do but I meant that bit, I meant all of it!" Craig had nodded his understanding, and a smile had again crept across his face.

"Ok. If you're sure that's what you want then...you've got me."

"What?" That had thrown him too, it was taking a little while to register, to sink in, and Craig must have realised that because he'd caught hold of him again and pulled him close saying...

"I'm not doing one, I'm not taking a step back, I'm back to being in your face!"

Craig had leant in and kissed him then, and he'd readily responded. It had been a slow and tender kiss, an exchange of truths between them and then...

"Oi cloth ears!"

Joe! He'd caught him idling already, staring into space instead of doing what he was paid to do. He'd obviously said something to him but he'd been so busy thinking about Craig he hadn't heard him. "What?" Well he was all ears now, and ready to have them blasted off the sides of his face.

"Haven't you got something to say to me?"

"Yeah, sorry." He knew he should say something more but what? How did he explain his behaviour? Nothing would excuse it. The fact Joe was eyeing him so questioningly didn't help, it made him nervous. He wasn't scared of his uncle although he probably should be, he just didn't want to get into another argument with him, not one like yesterday when he'd lost it and all because Joe was concerned about him.

"You alright?"

There it was again the concern, coming from such a hard man as Joe made it all the harder to hear. "Yeah." He was, he felt a lot better in himself, not that he'd felt ill before just...just heartsick. The haze around him had cleared, the sun might not be shinning in the sky but the world around him looked brighter today, like daylight had managed to somehow filter through the gloom that had been surrounding him. He knew Joe wasn't convinced, he had him pinned to the spot with his searching gaze and he just couldn't look away.

"You can talk to me you know."

There was a softness in Joe's voice one he'd only ever heard him use with his daughter and granddaughter, one that made him realise just what he meant to his uncle. "I know." He could never have broken down in front of Joe like he had with Craig though. He'd have never have got to the stage of needing to, not without Craig's understanding. Maybe if Joe knew about Craig he'd back off.

"I've met someone."

"Oh?"

Joe looked stunned, he could understand his shock, for the last few months all he'd thought about was Micah. He'd been stuck in the past not wanting to move on, "I've talked to him." That was all he was going to say and he knew it would be enough for Joe because despite what he'd just said to him, he didn't really do deep and meaningfuls, not with another man anyway.

"Right."

Joe was chewing thoughtfully on his gum now, he could almost hear the older man's brain ticking over. When he did speak it wasn't what he'd been expecting,

"Does Paul know? Your mum? They wouldn't worry so much if they did."

"Paul does." He'd walked in and caught him and Craig kissing! "I'll tell my mum later."

"Make sure you do."

With that order or threat or whatever it was ringing in his ears, Joe had turned around and walked back inside the garage again leaving him to his thoughts.

Paul! They hadn't heard him come in, he'd had to clear his throat to get their attention, and when he had he'd made it clear he wasn't best pleased with them.

"You said you were just friends! I've just helped convince Emmy of that."

He'd stalked off into the surgery then, leaving the two of them alone. Craig had turned to him saying, "I'll talk to him, explain..."

"No, I'll do it." He couldn't think of a worse way of Paul finding out about them, now it looked like they'd been trying to deceive him as well as Emmy.

Craig had left soon after, and he'd immediately gone looking for Paul, Mo had been sitting at the reception desk and had told him Paul had just left on his rounds. She'd wanted to know what had put him in a bad mood all of a sudden.

He'd just shrugged, he couldn't tell her it was him, something he'd done, well he could but she'd give him one of her withering looks, and he was in enough people's bad books this morning. He was going to have to talk to Paul tonight, and long before Craig arrived to pick him up, they were going out clubbing tonight!

....

Bram always avoided looking next door while he was at work, kept his back to the place. He'd done the exact same thing today. Walking past was always incredibly hard, he never looked at it then either, he'd look anywhere but there. So many memories would be given life if he did, some good, some bad...some unbearably painful.

He'd finished work for the day and was on his way home, unavoidably walking past Micah's place. It would always be Micah's place to him. It was the last place he'd called home.

A deep sadness washed over him, weighing heavy on his shoulders, seeping into his heart. It was where Micah had died. He wasn't supposed to die there. He hadn't wanted to die there. He'd chosen a foreign country to end his life but that wasn't meant to be. It had made things less complicated in many ways, but as for making it easier for everyone around him, no. It had also meant less time together too, and less time to prepare himself, not that he would ever have been ready for the time when it came.

He reined in his emotions, they were easier to deal with now, he wasn't trying to bury them anymore just keep them in check until another time. He knew he was going to have to come terms with what had happened in Brambles, with the last few days of Micah's life... nightmarish, heart-breaking days. He'd had to be strong, only when it was over did he fall apart.

He quickened his pace, suddenly wanting to put some distance between him and the cottage. He'd half expected to hear Emmy call after him, thinking she'd be laying in wait but no, he'd have to face her sometime though. Right now it was Paul he was wanting to talk to, to explain, if he could explain his and Craig's relationship.

Paul's car was in the drive, the surgery lights on, so he made his way in through its door. Mo greeting him with a smile and a warm "Hello love."

The waiting room was empty except for two old dears; they were sitting together, a cat box resting on one of their laps. Despite his mood he smiled to himself when he heard them not so quietly discussing him... "Who's that, we were here before him?" "It's alright Connie, that's the vet's son." Fact was Paul had only been in his life four years but in that time he'd become the father he wanted and so desperately needed.

He'd found Paul in the back room, looking for something in the cupboard he stored the practice's medication. He looked surprised to see him; well of late he was more used to him avoiding him than seeking him out.

"Have you got five minutes?"

"Will five minutes be long enough for what you've got to tell me?"

Paul was still mad at him but hopefully not for much longer. "It wasn't how it looked."

"So you weren't snogging each other's face off five minutes after telling Emmy you were just friends?"

He cringed, more than a little embarrassed by the comment; they hadn't been snogging! Not all out snogging anyway. "No! Well not like you make it sound."

"Well how was it then?"

Paul was leaning back against the cupboards, arms crossed, eyeing him expectantly, unknowingly piling on the pressure. Bram knew he just wanted putting in the picture, was probably hoping he didn't have something else to worry about where he was concerned.

"We were just friends until this morning, and you encouraged that remember?"

Paul was nodding, happy to admit to that.

"I went out last night, planning to get hammered; I just wanted to forget everything. But I didn't, I went round to Craig's instead. You said he genuinely cared about me and I realised that last night. We talked; he got me talking about Micah and I...well it helped, just like you said it would. This morning I realised I felt something for him too but he was wanting to take a step back, until I'd grieved for Micah. That's why he said what he did to Emmy. But I couldn't let him go; I was scared it would be for good, like when I let Micah go. So we talked and decided to give him and me a chance. Then you walked in!"

Paul was looking thoughtfully at him, making no attempt to put those thoughts into words, and it put him on the defensive. "It's what you wanted isn't it? Me to get out there and move on?"

Paul had stepped across the room to stand right in front of him, close enough to grip his upper arms while he talked to him,

"Yes exactly what I wanted you to do, but I was thinking more of you having some fun before you got so involved with someone again. Craig's nice, I really do like him and he's been good for you but it sounds like we're talking serious relationship here already? I'm not sure you're ready for that and by the sounds of it, Craig didn't think you were either."

Shrugging off the older man's hands he snapped at him "I know what I'm doing Paul!"

"I don't think you do!"

"Well it doesn't matter what you think."

"I just don't want to see you hurt again..."

"I won't be!" He was walking to the door now, wanting to get away from Paul and his doubts. The conversation was over as far as he was concerned but not it seemed for Paul, he was calling after him...

"We'll talk about this later."

As he opened the connecting door to the living room he called over his shoulder, "I won't be here!" He planned on keeping well out of Paul's way until he went out, he wasn't going to let him put the dampener on things.

Once in the kitchen he made himself a sandwich, he felt more like eating today, and he needed to line his stomach, ready it for the few beers he planned on having tonight. Washing his food down with a mug of tea he then went up stairs.

It had been a long time since he'd thought about what he should wear, he'd just been putting on the first thing that came to hand. Except that was for the day of the funeral, although he'd had little to do with the preparation of what he wore. Paul had had his suit dry cleaned days before, had polished his shoes and had even bought him a new black tie. His mum had called around the night before to iron his and Paul's shirts. All he'd had to do that morning was put everything on. But he'd struggled to do that, Paul had had to help him with his tie, his fingers just wouldn't cooperate.

Now he found himself looking in his wardrobe, looking for something he hadn't worn before, something he hadn't worn when he'd been with Micah, for some reason that thought made him uneasy. That left him with little choice but he finally settled on something and after laying it out on his bed went for a shower.

They weren't the only things on his bed when he got back to his room, Paul was sitting there.

"Not now ..."

"Yes now!" The older man said getting to his feet. "This will take all of one minute so pin your lugholes back and listen."

He knew Paul didn't deserve it but he couldn't stop himself from giving him a withering look. As always Paul ignored it.

"I'm happy for you I really am but that doesn't mean I can't be concerned at the same time. I just think you should take things slowly, see other people and by that I mean Lee and Ben, your friends, your family, me. You closed yourself off from everyone when Micah died, you need to let everyone back into your life. You can't just open the door to Craig. He's not the only one who cares about you."

He knew Paul was really saying not to let his life revolve around Craig, not too get in too deep too soon. "I know and I will, like I said I know what I'm doing." Things were going to go right this time, he wasn't going to lose Craig.

....

The club was heaving, the music loud, the atmosphere electric. Mercury was a feel good place, somewhere you came to have a good time and he was intent on having one.

He'd been a few times with Micah, before the accident, but it was new to Craig and he was loving the buzz surrounding him.

They were sitting near the bar, lucky to have found a free table. They were having to sit right up close to each other so they could hear what the other one was saying, not that that was any hardship, the close physical contact suiting them both. He was all alone at the moment though, Craig now queuing at the bar. His eyes were fixed on the older man as he went over their conversation so far. It had flowed easily, Craig making it easy. He'd found himself sharing more and more about himself and learning more about Craig too. He came from a big family, had two brothers, two sisters, and was obviously close to them and to his parents. Craig had wanted to know how he'd come to be living with his mother's ex and he'd told him, adding "Paul, Micah, you, the three best things ever to happen to me." Craig had kissed him then, another tender melding of lips.

The conversation had moved on to his family, first his mum, then Joe and how he was back working for him, and inevitable to the huge Miller clan he was a part of. He'd been totally honest about them; well there was no point sugar-coating anyone of them. Just like there was no point trying to sugar-coat himself. Craig was keen to meet them all, and had said, "They sound a charismatic lot."

He'd laughed at that and told him he'd heard them called some things in his time but never that. He liked Craig's view of them though, they might stray off the straight and narrow sometimes but they all had their hearts in the right place, even Joe...well when it came to family he did.

Craig had made no mention of Micah though and because he hadn't he didn't like to either and had several times stopped himself from saying things like Micah did this and Micah said that. He was suddenly feeling very guilty about that now and for the fact there had actually been times when he'd not been in his mind at all. Up until last night he'd been constantly there, even in his sleep.

Was this him letting him go? Was forgetting about him what that meant? He didn't want to forget about him!

"Bram?"

Craig was back and seated alongside him, aware something was wrong.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." He lied forcing a smile one Craig immediately saw straight though.

"I know something is,"

He shook his head as words failed him. How did he explain going from being happy in Craig's company to suddenly having to fight back tears?

What did he tell him? I'm thinking about Micah, missing him, wishing he was here. Or that he was hating himself for having for a time forgotten he'd even existed! This was what Craig had meant about Micah's ghost coming between them.

"Bram? Is it Micah?"

He'd guessed! How predictable was he? But he could make this less a problem than it needed to be, he'd lie his way out of this. Gesturing off into the crowd, at no one in particular he said, "That bloke over there looks a lot like him. It threw me for a while but I'm alright now,"

Craig had automatically looked in the direction he'd been pointing, but having no idea what Micah had looked like his attention had immediately returned to him.

"Do you want to leave? We could go somewhere else."

"No!" No he didn't want to leave, it had been a good night up until now, up until he'd thrown a wobbler. He was feeling guilty now about lying to Craig, the concern in the green eyes tearing at his conscience. "I'm fine, I'm alright now you're here." That was the truth, Craig just being there gave him the strength he needed to pull himself together. Craig had kissed him again then, the kiss a little longer and a little deeper than the one before.

As they'd pulled apart Craig had eyed him intently and then said in that soft gentle voice of his, "We can talk about Micah if you want, I just didn't think this was the right place."

Had he seen through his lie too or was he just being his sensitive self? "It's not." He understood that now, one day maybe, when tears didn't spring so easily to his eyes, when his emotions weren't still so unpredictable.

He moved the conversation on to rallying then, knowing Craig would run with that and run he had. Telling him he'd been doing it for years, his older brother had got him hooked. But his brother was married now, his wife expecting twins and his interest waning as fatherhood approached.

"I'm looking for a co-driver if you're interested?"

Was he? He'd not thought about doing anything like that before, even though he was interested in cars. Grinning he said, "I'm more used to fixing them than wrecking them!"

"I'm sure you're capable of doing both and anyway you'd be doing the navigating!"

"What would I have to do?"

Craig had spent the next half hour telling him, he found himself liking the idea and agreed to give it a go."

"Right, now you're feeling adventurous how about a dance?"

"What?" The thought horrified him, he didn't dance.

"You know, move your feet and everything that's attached to them to the music!"

"No!"

Craig was laughing at him now, "God you're boring."

"Better boring than embarrassing."

"That bad eh?"

"Yeah!"

"Well we're just going to have to sit here and find something else to do."

"Like what?" They were having fun just talking weren't they?

"What I've got in mind is a lot less energetic and nowhere near as embarrassing."

"What?"

"It's not classed an Olympic sport yet but I live in hope."

"What are you on about?"

"Tonsil hockey!"

He heard himself groan at that but quickly leant in to join in the game.

As the night wore on each kiss they'd shared had got a little more heated, a little more passionate. He knew where it was heading, knew he'd be spending the night with Craig, was wanting desperately to spend the night with him.

They'd left the club earlier than planned, Craig had an early start and they'd used that as an excuse, neither openly admitting to the real reason. They'd got into Craig's car and amidst the privacy it afforded things had turned more heated still. Craig finally pulling away to ask "Do you want me to take you home?"

"No." That's all he needed to say, Craig had started the car and they were now making for Choud, to his flat, and to his bed.

....

He was beginning to feel nervous, why? Why should he be nervous? Was it because he'd only ever slept with Micah, or the fact it had been a long time since he'd...since they'd...no, no he shouldn't be thinking about the two of them together not now.

Craig was parking the car; they'd driven all the way here in silence, the contented kind, his hand resting on Craig's thigh, that contact enough for them both. There had been no need for words; words would only have broken the spell.

He was out of the car now and waiting for the older man to join him, more than a little taken aback when on reaching him Craig caught hold of his hand, although he didn't protest, not in any way.

In all the time he'd been with Micah they'd never walked together hand in hand, never. His fault. His failing. He the one not comfortable with public displays of affection. He still wasn't, but he found himself not wanting to let go of the reassuring warmth he found in the physical closeness, not that he thought he could, the bigger hand was wrapped so firmly around his own, like Craig was scared to let him go.

It was only a short walk to the entrance to Craig's place. The area well lit; cars were passing, laughter and unknown voices drifting by, carried on a cool autumn wind. So many witnesses now to what he'd only ever been able to do in private before. But his foolish unease ebbed quickly as he realised they were just like every other couple on the street, simply making their way home.

They were almost at the top of the stairs, and were still holding hands, now it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do. Only when the time came to open the door did Craig release his hold on him. Having to, not wanting to.

Then they were inside, the door closed against the world. Just the two of them standing there, bathed in soft lights and warmth.

Face to face in the hallway. Craig looking at him, devouring him with his eyes. Suddenly he was aware of something he hadn't felt in a very long time, butterfly's in his stomach! He dropped his gaze; the hunger in the green eyes had unnerved him. He hadn't been like this last night, so why now? What the hell was the matter with him?

A finger, feather soft under his chin, tilting his head upwards.

Gentle hands now cupping his face, reassuringly taking control.

Lips warm and tender covering his, slowly moving over his, first leading then following. Their tongues then joining in the rhythmic dance, searching, teasing, arousing.

Heat was now spreading through him, like a wild fire, burning, raging out of control. Heightening his senses. Igniting the passion. Desire banishing all nerves, all fears, all memories.

Then suddenly, like the night before, a blind scramble for the bedroom. There a frantic opening of buttons and zips. Then the urgent removal of all barriers, of everything keeping their flesh apart.

Stumbling over what now lay discarded and forgotten on the floor, to finally tumble together down on to the bed.

A heated war of wills, rolling, wrestling, each seeking dominance.

The victor finally subduing with kiss after savage kiss, to then quieten, calm, soothe with the promise of a slower more sensual bliss.

The vanquished left breathless, helpless, lost in his lover's touch...

He could only moan his pleasure as Craig's mouth slowly worked its way over his neck, kissing, sucking, licking. Leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

The older man braced over him, on his forearms, shifting expertly in his quest to please and satisfy. Moving purposefully lower now to torment each n****e in turn, sucking and batting them with his tongue until fully ripened, to then punish them with his teeth. The pain of the sweetest kind, eliciting another moan of pleasure from deep inside his throat.

Craig had moved his attention again, another assault on his senses as the fire blazed lower, over his stomach, circling it slowly, before moving tantalizingly lower and lower.

His erection straining now, wanting, needing attention. He shuddered uncontrollably when Craig lapped at his wetness, to then circle the satin tip with his tongue. A teasing gesture because suddenly the blissful sensation was just a memory, he rocked his head forward, needing an explanation, about to open his mouth to protest such cruel a desertion only to be silenced, his lips claimed, his mouth again invaded, again left breathless, and wanting more.

Craig now whispering against his lips, his breath warm, his words wanton, energising him. His strength returning fast, a desire to please now coursing through his veins. Wrapping his hand around the nape of Craig's neck he pulled him closer, capturing his mouth and as his tongue teased and tormented its companion he flipped Craig onto his back, rolling on top of him, Craig smiling up at him at his tactics, happy for now to concede defeat.

He cradled Craig's face in his hands, moulding his mouth to his, the kiss deep, demanding and lasting. A new sensation now, clean shaven skin beneath his lips, he leisurely tasted the area finding it intoxicatingly soft and erotically scented. Dropping tender kisses then along each collar bone, over each heavy, muscular shoulder. Before moving lower, nuzzling his face against the hair on Craig's chest, letting it tickle and then rasp against his skin. He was seeking out a n****e now. Wetting it with his tongue before sucking on it long and hard, Craig inhaling sharply beneath him, rising up against him. His erection, hard against his belly. It's leakage warm, serving to excite him further.

He covered Craig's mouth again, probing with his tongue as his hand reached down, fingering the throbbing mass. Wrapping his hand around it, stroking, caressing, feeling it surge against his touch.

He felt excitement peak beneath him, a restlessness he knew he couldn't control. He was on his back before he knew it, Craig having effortlessly displaced him in one swift need fuelled manoeuvre. The older man now reaching into his bedside drawer. Hurriedly removing what he needed before turning his attention back to him. Easing him down the bed a little, positioning him how he wanted him before readying him. The gentle probing making him toss his head from side to side in eager anticipation.

He groaned at the slow penetration, a sigh escaping his lips as he felt Craig's rigid length fill him, buried now to the hilt.

He took a shuddering breath ready for more. Craig teasingly easing out and gently pushing back in. Beginning to thrust just when he thought he'd go out of his mind with need. Harder now, deeper, and brutal. Impaling him. Pounding him into the mattress. Leaving him helpless against the onslaught and desperately wanting to know Craig in the exact same way.

A guttural groan escaped his lover's lips as he convulsed in completion, gripped by the spasms of release, violently emptying him before he could finally collapse into his arms, and as he cradled him they shared a slow and tender kiss.

....

The passion, the sense of unity had lingered long after the last throes of ecstasy had rocked their bed. Wrapped in each other's arms they'd continued to kiss, leisurely fanning the flames that had heated their blood.

But sleep would come, lulling, overpowering, capturing, to finally cradle them in its quiet vale. But in its shadows, in its darkest depths a spectre was being born...

He'd felt panic stir in his arms, at first Bram was just restless, but agitated enough to wake him. He'd held him tighter, whispered reassurances, all going unheard.

Bram was struggling against him now, fighting to free himself from his arms, but oblivious to his presence, to his pleas to wake up. It seemed he was trapped in a nightmare, locked in another world, one he couldn't enter in. He was calling out now, his pleas heart breaking...and he'd never felt as helpless as he did right now.

Hurriedly switching on the bedside light he witnessed in a matter of seconds, Bram change from being warm and flushed to deathly pale and covered in a cold sweat, his skin glistening with the sudden eruption of moisture. Tears were now coursing down his pallid cheeks, yet another sign of his distress.

Not knowing for how much longer it would go on for Craig shook him, violently, in a desperate attempt to wake him and free him from what was torturing his mind. Finally his eyes had opened...wild and unseeing still. He tried to hold him then, comfort him only for the panic to reappear. Bram was fighting against him again and he had no choice but to release his hold, now free of his arms the younger man had scrambled out of bed and then stumbled towards the kitchen.

He quickly followed, not sure if the nightmare was continuing in another guise. Soon realising it was over apart from the memory of it. That still had the younger man in its clutches.

He was standing by the sink, filling a glass with water; Craig could see his hand was shaking, that his entire being was shaking.

He watched him down the contents of the glass before trying again to reach him, "Bram?"

"Sorry."

"It's alright." He was relieved to finally get some response from him, to see a little colour appear in his cheeks. He'd scared the hell out of him before.

"No!"

He seemed confused now, and he felt the need to explain, "You were having a nightmare; you were calling for Micah..."

"I'm sorry."

The tears were falling again now and Bram was shaking his head from side to side in what seemed a gesture of helplessness. "It's alright." He took a step nearer to him, wanting to hold him, to reassure him physically but he just backed away from him.

"No it's not. Not in your bed! After we'd...I'm sorry."

"It was a nightmare not some erotic dream!" Did he really think he'd hold a nightmare against him?

"I'm sorry."

He didn't like this repetitive use of the word sorry, not the pleading way in which it was said, it tore at his heart, "Come on, let's go back to bed." Hopefully Bram would let him hold him there.

"No."

"Bram?"

"I said no!"

"Don't push me away." He hadn't meant to raise his voice but he was shaken by what had happened too, and it was beginning to manifest itself in a shortness of patience and temper.

"I'm not. I just need a minute."

But he was, he could see it in his eyes, a coolness directed at him. Why? He wasn't finding it as easy to dismiss that, he'd done nothing wrong, "Fine." Craig heard himself snap, "Take as long as you like, just don't wake me up!" He regretted his words the minute they left his lips. Still he'd turned his back on Bram and headed to his bedroom, he needed a minute to clear his head too.

He opened his mouth to protest, to ask Craig to stay, then thought better of it, it would only have been out of guilt and where would that have got them? He'd said he needed a minute and he did, alright more than one, he just needed to stop shaking, to stop hurting...to stop aching for another man! The dream always left him aching for Micah but not physically wanting him. No, he just needed to see him, to set eyes on him one more time. But how did he explain something like that to Craig?

The dream...nightmare had been the same again...no, no not quite, this time the churchyard gates had been open, but he still hadn't been able to go in. Nothing could make him go in there!

He closed his eyes trying to conjure up another image, something to replace the one haunting him. Something warm, something real, something that wouldn't hurt him. Suddenly he sensed he wasn't alone and opened his eyes, Craig was standing in the doorway, silently watching him, in reach if he needed him. Now he realised just how much he did need him, him and his quiet strength. On jelly like legs he moved towards the older man, aware of his arms folding around him, and then of a comforting warmth chasing the chill from his bones.

They were back in bed now, curled up together beneath the covers; the dream had made him feel like a trespasser here before, but not anymore. It felt right again, like it had the first time he'd woken up in it, like it had when they'd fallen into it naked, like it had when they'd been making love...

Bram was already asleep. Just minutes after they'd got back into bed. The nightmare must have really drained him, it had certainly knocked him for six and he'd only witnessed its effect on the younger man.

It had scared him, so to the way he'd pushed him away. He knew he'd reacted badly to that, but it had hurt having him do that after everything that happened between them and what they'd shared just hours before. Thankfully he'd got his act together and gone back to him, was there when he needed him.

For a minute back there he'd thought he'd made a mistake, He'd been wary of getting involved or rather more involved so soon, he hadn't thought Bram was ready but when he'd made it clear he was, that it was him he wanted his resolve had faltered...collapsed around his ears more like! He hadn't need much persuading. But then he'd always had a tendency to let his heart rule his head, but he wasn't going to get hurt this time, no, Bram wouldn't hurt him.

....

Bram was on the bus home, staring out the window lost in thought, just like he had been the other night. Right now his mind was replaying everything that had happened in Craig's bed, the sex, the nightmare. Two emotional extremes. The height of pleasure and the low of despair. How easily he'd been dragged back down to earth!

They'd made no mention of the nightmare this morning, and he'd been happy to distance himself from it, to deny its existence, and it had been so easy to do. In Craig's arms he could think of nothing but him. But his thoughts were all over the place just as soon as he'd left him, and ever since he'd been desperately trying not to let them stray out of the sunlight into the shade. But somehow they always did.

He hadn't realised just how much he'd missed the physical side of a relationship, its emotional release, the closeness it afforded. All the affectionate stuff felt so right in bed, he found it so easy to share himself there, to give. But once out of it, where other eyes could see he wasn't so sure of himself, nowhere near as confident. Suddenly he remembered holding Craig's hand as they'd walked to his flat! Where had he got the nerve to do that? He wouldn't have been able to do that in the middle of the day, not at any time during daylight hours!

That open display of affection would have meant so much to Micah. He was like Craig, he didn't care who saw, he didn't care what people thought, but had tried to understand his inhibitions, and he'd let him get away with so much. If a stranger had seen them sitting together in the pub he'd have thought they were mates not lovers. He just wasn't a touchy-feely person, not in any way demonstrative; he wished he was, he wished he'd been with Micah.

The accident had put a stop to the physical side of their relationship, although it had been non-existent for a while before that too, because they'd fallen out. It had been more than a fall out, he'd messed up, and Micah had moved out.

They'd made up that awful night and for a little while he'd been over the moon, but within minutes he'd messed up again, and he'd kept on messing up until the only thing that could hurt Micah more than he had done...was a train!

But then he'd been broken before the train hit him, he'd broken him!

His insecurities, his fears, his ways, his not being able to tell him he loved him, that's what had broken him. He'd realised too late just how much he did love him, that what he felt for him was love. How stupid was he? Why hadn't he known?

They'd worked through everything, slowly, painfully, and what they had was enough for him. He'd adjusted, adapted, happily committed. But Micah hadn't, couldn't, wouldn't.

He'd fought him on it for a while, everyone had. But for Micah, the only light at the end of the tunnel he found himself slowly suffocating in, was death.

Micah had spent hours on his voice controlled laptop, openly searching for a way to find the peace he craved.

Then had come the first real step towards Micah getting his wish, him making a Living Will!

Bram had never heard of it before, couldn't believe such a thing existed, but it did and Micah had from his wheelchair moved heaven and earth to get one written, having it signed and made legally binding. With his consent Micah had had him named in it as Health Care Proxy.

He knew what measure of trust Micah had had in him to make him that. But there had come a time, for just a little while, that he'd bitterly resented him for doing it, for putting all that weight on his shoulders, but he'd resented himself even more for having agreed to it.

Love! The power it holds over you, the strength it gives you...the pain it causes, the unimaginable grief it leaves in its wake.

With that thought came a decision... he liked Craig, cared about him, but he was never going to fall in love with him, he was never going to love him like he'd loved Micah.

The bus was stopping, where were they now? Hollsy already! He jumped to his feet, thanked the driver and stepped down onto the road.

It was just after eight, the village quite, Saturday mornings always were; only Sunday mornings were deader.

He'd promised Joe he'd put in a few hours this morning, he'd have a shower and some breakfast before he went to work though. He found Paul in the kitchen, brewing up and buttering toast. The older man insisting he have what he'd made, saying he'd make more.

"You could have let me know you wouldn't be coming home." Paul chastised as he sat down by the table.

"Yeah sorry." He hadn't thought, well he had been busy doing other things, and for once Craig hadn't insisted he phone home!

"You out again tonight?"

"Yeah," He was heading back to Craig's, his shift finished at eight, they weren't going anywhere though, planned on having a pizza and an early night. Craig was on duty again at eight the next morning, on another twelve hour shift. "I'll be staying over again." He'd avoided eye contact with Paul on saying that, he knew he wouldn't approve, that he thought things were moving way too fast. He didn't want to have to explain himself, he certainly didn't want to get into an argument, he just wanted Paul to accept he knew what he was doing.

"Bram?"

"What?" He'd managed to not snap at Paul, to keep a respectful tone to his voice even though he was now expecting a lecture, a word of caution at the very least, the very thing he didn't want or need right now.

"I told Emmy about you and Craig last night."

Dumbstruck, Bram could only look at Paul, trying to understand why he'd do such a thing. He felt betrayed. He had a right to feel that way didn't he? He hadn't wanted her to know, not yet but then yesterday morning he'd felt guilty for lying to her... well for not being honest with her. She'd been so upset when she'd thought him and Craig were...she must really hate him now!

"She called round, to apologise to you. We got talking and... well it was easier to tell her than keep it from her. She understands, she just wants you to be happy. You should go and see her..."

"No!" He couldn't face her despite what Paul had just said.

"You two got really close those last few weeks. She misses you, she feels like she's lost you as well as Micah."

They had got close, united in their battle to stay strong. That had to be why he couldn't bear to see her tears, to feel her pain. He'd promised Micah he'd be there for her; he'd conveniently pushed that to the back of his mind! He'd kept his distance, avoided her...let them both down. Getting to his feet he made for the door.

"Where you going?"

"To the shop." He wanted to get there before Emmy did.

....

He was standing staring at Emmy's front door; he couldn't bring himself to knock on it, it didn't seem right somehow, always before he'd just walked on in. The Bramble had become like a second home to him when Micah was there, he'd treated it like he did Paul's place, like he belonged there. But he didn't want to walk on in now, he didn't even want to put one foot inside the door. He could say what he needed to say out here on the doorstep. Forcing himself to rap on the door he took a steadying breath, and waited for Emmy to appear.

She did, finally. Dressing gown wrapped around her ample form. He'd obviously got her out of bed. Her eyes had widened in surprise on seeing him.

"Bram!"

He watched the surprise melt from her face to be quickly replaced by delight, he felt her arms wrap around him then, squeezing the life out of him in a loving hug. It wasn't the reception he'd expected and he felt ashamed for expecting anything less from her.

Finally releasing him Emmy said, "Come in I'll put the kettle..."

"No!" No he couldn't, he wasn't ready to face those memories yet. It had been a struggle just walking to the door, "I've got to get to work." He knew she'd seen straight through the lie, but there was no disappointment or hurt in her eyes or on her face, just concern, and that made him feel a hundred times worse. "I just wanted to give you these." He lifted his hand and placed the two bunches of flowers he'd been holding into her arms. Everything he'd wanted to say now refused to pass his lips, the words of apology of explanation stuck in his throat along with a lump he couldn't swallow.

Emmy was looking down at the roses, at the twelve white blooms, and the twelve that were a vivid shade of red. When she didn't look up he knew she was hiding her tears and that he was about to add to them, "I'll always love him, always. Nothing's going to change that." He turned away quickly, and made for the road.

"Bram!"

He wanted to keep on walking but he couldn't ignore the plea in Emmy's voice so turned back around to face her.

"I'll take them over later, come with me, please."

Shaking his head he said, "I can't, sorry."

....

Paul was still sitting at the breakfast table, waiting for him it seemed, wanting to know where he'd been.

"I told you I was going to the shop."

"Then where?"

"You know where." The older man had obviously watched him from the window, seen him with the flowers and guessed the rest, now he wanted to know what had been said.

"How'd it go?"

Paul's face was plastered with concern; he wished they didn't all care so much about him...no that wasn't true. He didn't say it and he didn't show it but he did appreciate the way they showed their love for him. He just found it so overwhelming at times. "I was only there a minute..."

"You didn't go in?"

"I've got work..."

"We both know that's not the real reason"

"What does it matter?"

"It matters! It's something else you've got to face so that you can..."

"I just don't want reminding of where Micah died."

"There's more to it than that."

"No!" But there was, so much more.

"You did nothing wrong."

"I know I didn't!"

"I don't think you do, I think what happened there is eating you up inside."

"You're wrong."

"Bram..."

"For f***s sake Paul will you drop it!" He stalked from the room taking the stairs two at a time, turning his room upside down in his haste to find his work overalls. He wanted to get out of there before Paul decided to tackle him again. It was a good few minutes before he realised the other man was standing in the doorway, the item of clothing he was looking for in his hands, freshly laundered. He reluctantly met Paul's gaze, now ashamed of his outburst. He was slowly working his way up to saying he was sorry when Paul said,

"I can't help worrying about you and I'm not going to apologise for caring about you, so suck it up!"

Paul tossed the overalls at him, then made his way back down stairs, leaving him feeling an inch tall. He loved Paul but it was always him he lashed out at. Micah used to give him hell about it; he'd take it knowing he deserved it. He wished Micah was here now to give him an earful, someone needed to.

He made his way to the kitchen, once again in search of Paul, he didn't want to leave the house with bad feeling between them, not again. He eventually found him sitting at Mo's desk, just staring off into space. He knew what was on his mind, what had him so preoccupied...him!

"Paul." The older man's gaze was soon fixed on him.

"I thought you were in a hurry to get to work?"

"You don't need to worry about me."

"Don't I?"

"I'm working through everything..."

"Bramble cottage? The nightmares?"

"In time, I just need time."

"I think you need more than time."

"I can talk to Craig."

"But isn't that a lot to ask of him? If he was just a friend then no but now you're sharing his bed..."

"Paul!" The other man was straying onto dangerous ground now.

"I'm just saying you've got a good'un in Craig, he's a keeper... but he could so easily slip through your fingers!"

He wasn't going to let that happen. Craig understood about Micah, in a way it was Micah that had brought them together. He wasn't going to come between them now; they were both too wary of letting that happen, "Like I said, you don't need to worry about me. I'm ok. Me and Craig are ok."

He'd walked away then, knowing he hadn't convinced Paul of anything, telling himself he was just going to have to prove it to him.

....

Bram had seen Emmy pass by, the red roses nestled in her arm. He'd kept well out of sight; he didn't want to give her the opportunity to ask him to go to Micah's grave with her again. He hurt both of them when he said no.

So why couldn't he bring himself to go? What was stopping him? He wasn't angry at Micah anymore, and if he was completely honest with himself that was what had stopped him going before. He'd been scared of what he'd do; afraid he'd lose it and rant at the earth that covered him or at the marble stone that held his name... the stone! Emmy had wanted him to help her choose one, help her with the wording. He'd said no, telling her she had better taste than him and that he was no good with words.

He felt a stab of guilt, then one of regret, like a knife first piecing then twisting in his gut. How could he have said no? How could he have not wanted to play some part in that?

It seemed once Micah had been buried all he'd done was distance himself from any tangible reminder of him, yet he'd constantly immersed himself in memories of him. He didn't understand his actions and if he didn't how could anyone else, no wonder they'd all been so worried about him.

They were still worried about him, but they didn't need to be. He was seeing things clearly now, Craig had helped him rid his mind of the black fog. The misery it clouded him in had tainted everything, his every waking moment. But he could smile now without forcing it; he could laugh and not hate himself for feeling happy. He actually wanted to live and see life, not hide from it. He was coming alive again, feeling something else other than pain, he was wanting to let all the heartache go. But he knew he'd never be able to do that unless he faced what he was so desperately avoiding.

He'd told Paul he needed time, well that was just an excuse, well it was where the nightmares were concerned. As for Brambles, no, he wasn't ready to face the memories that place held.

He didn't know what do about the nightmares. He kept hoping each one would be the last, but no, and they plagued him almost every night now. Maybe they were caused by guilt, for him not visiting Micah's grave? Maybe walking through the churchyard gates would stop him seeing them in his dreams; maybe it would stop him having that nightmare over and over again. He didn't want Craig to witness another one; he didn't want him hearing him calling out for Micah again.

He looked around him for his uncle, but Joe was nowhere to be seen so he just downed tools and made his way over to the road. Knowing if he didn't do this now he probably never would.

Just a few minutes later he was standing by the entrance to the churchyard, the gates were open just like they'd been in last night's nightmare. Was that some kind of sign? Was that meant to encourage him in?

He forced his feet forward; there was no turning around now.

He could hear birdsong, and the wind whispering through the trees. Leaves rustled beneath his feet, his every step cushioned by a carpet of countless shades of gold.

It was so peaceful here; he was surrounded by a reassuring sense of calm. All his unease, his uncertainty had now disappeared.

He might not have been here since the day of the funeral but he hadn't forgotten where he'd stood on trembling legs and silently promised Micah to always love him.

It was just off to the left, in a secluded corner, beneath the sprawling limbs of an aging yew tree.

Emmy had looked surprised to see him on her doorstep; and she looked shocked to see him here. But she recovered quickly, greeting him with a warm smile. As he'd stood beside her, she'd tucked her arm in his, chattering on about anything and everything before cautiously bringing Micah into the one sided conversation. He felt the knife twist in his gut again, more guilt, more regret. Emmy was expecting him to walk away at any minute, but he wasn't going to, not this time.

Talking came so easily to some people, it certainly did for Emmy. But she wasn't making aimless chitchat now, and her voice had taken on a calm reassuring tone. He was listening intently, her words were slowly sinking in, they were slowly being absorbed, reaching a part of him that up until now had been deliberately closed off. Then suddenly she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts, and with a new understanding.

He couldn't take his eyes off the headstone, off its gold lettering, off the sentiment it expressed so boldly. He felt emotions stir inside and gently seep through his defences... "I miss you." The words slipped so easily off his lips, spilling out as effortlessly as the tears now falling from his eyes.

"I miss you so much." He knew Micah wasn't here, not the Micah he loved but Emmy had said it helped having something to focus on, something solid to relate to. He understood that now.

"I just wanted you to know that, and that I love you, that I always will." There was so much more he needed to say but not now. He'd said the words he'd been so longing to say, that he'd been physically aching to say out loud. He didn't want to say something that might lessen their worth. He'd come back tomorrow.

....

Bram had caught the bus home again and was staring out the window, but the miles were passing more or less unseen. Like yesterday morning Craig was occupying his thoughts, he kept losing himself in their time together, in their lovemaking.

There'd been no nightmare to mar it this time; did that mean there wouldn't be another one? God he hoped so, but he'd have to have a long run of peaceful night sleeps before he would consider them gone.

The bus was pulling in to Hollsy now, slowing down, lurching to a halt. He'd been the only one on it. Well it was earlyish Sunday morning, most people had the day off work, and a lot of them would still be in bed. He could have still been curled up in the warm too instead of standing here at the mercy of a lazy wind. Craig had told him he didn't have to leave the flat just because he was going to work. But he'd been wide awake as soon as the alarm went off, Craig too and the first thing he had done on waking was kiss him, one of those unwittingly dangerous kisses that had instantly led to something else, they'd showered together then, leaving him on too much of a high to go back to bed.

He knew Paul would be up, he didn't do lie-ins, you wouldn't think it to look at him but he had a boundless energy, he was rarely still. He was just putting his coat on as he'd walked in through the front door. He knew where Paul was going. Would he ask him to go with him today? Of course he would, just like he had every other Sunday morning. So what was his answer going to be this time?

"Bram come with me."

No Paul didn't give up. Had never given up on him, despite everything he'd done. "Yeah."

If he was surprised at his reply Paul didn't show it, he just strode towards the door. The two of them then falling into step as they made their way down the hill. He was asking him about Craig, how he was, when was he coming over. He looked more than a little pleased when he told him he'd be over that night. He wanted Paul to see how good they were together. He was determined to prove to Paul that he was ok, that he was back on track, that he had his life back on track.

Paul didn't stay long at the graveside, he commented on how nice Emmy kept it, then stood silently for a few minutes before excusing himself, telling him he'd best get to the shop before all the papers were gone, like he didn't know his was on order.

So he found himself alone again, only he felt far from alone. He didn't feel at ease though, not like he had yesterday. Maybe he should have come later on in the day, when he wasn't just out of Craig's bed, when he couldn't still feel his arms around him, when he wasn't so much in his head. This was his and Micah's time wasn't it? He'd wanted it to be. But then there wasn't a him and Micah anymore! That simple truth hurt but not nearly as bad as it had just a few days ago. That was because of Craig, because of what he now had with him.

"It's been hard, I've messed it all up, but that won't surprise you...you know me better than anyone. But I'm getting it right now, I'm getting there."

The wind breathed through the yew tree that towered above him, a strangely comforting sound, it encouraged him on, "There's someone...Craig. He just walked into my life; he wouldn't get out of my face! You'd like him; he's a lot like you."

His gaze fell upon the roses, still perfect in form and true in colour. But he knew the petals would fall, that each bloom would eventually wither and die, an untimely reminder that nothing lasted forever.

"I'm scared, I'm scared to love him...I'm scared I'll lose him too."

Where had that come from? That wasn't what he'd come here to say. It had thrown him, unsettled him. It seemed he could hide that truth from Paul, but not from Micah, from what he carried of him in his heart.

"It's alright isn't it? Me and him? If I thought you..." He was struggling now; he couldn't get the words past his lips, emotions getting the better of him. "But it's what you wanted for me...to be happy... to be loved... like you loved me."

He wiped away the stubborn tears, the ones insisting on falling. It was time to go; he was hurting, the pain once again threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't let it, not here.

He headed home, up to his room, dropping onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow, letting go of a little more grief, of a little more of Micah.

....

Saturday teatime and Bram was sprawled out in front of the TV, dunking one after another biscuit into his tea. He was watching a DVD, trying to keep himself occupied, trying to stop his mind straying to Craig. But it was proving impossible.

He was somewhere in Wales on a rally, his brother Andy acting as his co-driver for the very last time. He'd wanted him to go, but he'd have only felt like a spare part if he had gone, and anyway Joe couldn't spare him. It was the second time that week he'd turned down the chance to go away with Craig. He'd asked him to go to his brother James' eighteenth birthday bash with him too, but it would have meant taking both Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning off, and again Joe just couldn't spare him. But they both knew there would be other family do's, other rally's.

So while Craig partied with his family he'd gone to the pub with Paul. He hadn't needed much coaxing, further proof to the older man that he was moving on. It had been the first time he'd been to his local since Micah's wake, he wasn't sure how he'd feel there but he'd actually enjoyed himself. Ben and Lee had been there, between their incessant chat and Paul and his best friend Mark's bantering he'd not had time to dwell on who wasn't there. It was only when he'd climbed into bed alone that he'd realised he was missing Craig.

He'd spent last night alone too and would be alone again tonight and was eagerly awaiting a phone call from Craig, he couldn't see him but at least he could hear his voice.

Paul had eventually put in an appearance and had helped divert his thoughts. But every now and again his gaze would settle on his phone and he'd wonder why Craig hadn't yet rung. The rally had to be over by now. He was growing uneasy, restless, starting to wonder if something was wrong.

When his phone finally did ring he jumped, making a grab for it, expecting to hear Craig's voice only to find it wasn't him, that it was his brother.

He listened to his words, shaking his head at them, not wanting to believe them, but still thanking Andy for letting him know what had happened before ending the call.

"Bram? What is it? What's wrong?"

Paul was in his face now, demanding to be told what had shaken him so badly. He had to force the words out,

"Craig's...he took a bend too fast, rolled the car...hit a tree..."

For the longest time it seemed he couldn't move, he couldn't speak. He could only look at Paul willing him to make it all go away, to make it not to have happened. If anyone could he could. How many messes had he got him out of before. How many times had he been hurting and he'd been there, helping him through it.

Paul had caught hold of him then, gripped him by the shoulders, shaken him gently. It had brought him to his senses, cleared his mind of the numbing haze. Paul had wanted more details, the whole story, and the telling of it had helped breathe some feeling back into him. The need to see Craig then overwhelming.

He'd asked to borrow Paul's car, intent on driving however many hundred miles it was to the hospital. Paul had said no, that no way was he driving, that he was in no fit state to get behind the wheel of a car, and that he would take him. He'd not argued, he wanted Paul with him, needed him with him.

Five minutes later they were leaving the house, a few minutes after that the Sat Nav was set, fifteen minutes later the car's fuel tank was full. He wouldn't have thought about doing either of those things, he just couldn't think past Craig.

He had a strange ache inside of him, an unnerving sense of dread, and it was growing, slowly spreading through him, was soon pressing so heavily on his chest that it was almost suffocating him.

Paul kept reassuring him, reminding him of what Andy had said, something that try as he might he just couldn't accept, not without seeing for himself that Craig was ok. That the doctor's were only keeping him in hospital because he'd been knocked out in the crash, and had been left unconscious for a good five minutes. They just wanted to rule out any serious head injury, that it was normal procedure, that they weren't unduly worried and that Craig had said he wasn't to worry either.

But how could he not? How could he just sit at home like nothing had happened? How could he watch TV and pig out on the sofa when the man he cared so much about was hurt.

His mind's eye had conjured up so vivid a scene, and once there, there was no getting rid of it. He could see the car rolling, he could hear the sickening crunch of metal, smell the heat of the engine...and he could see Craig, bloody and lifeless... just like Micah had been when he'd reached him.

He could remember the sense of panic, of helplessness. Then hearing the sirens in the distance, it seemed they had taken for ever to come, the ambulance, the firemen, the police...and forever to get him out, to get him to the hospital, it had been one long nightmare, it had gone on and on.

Another nightmare now, or that's how it seemed. Or was he just overreacting? He wouldn't know that until he set his eyes on Craig and saw for himself that he was safe...that he was still breathing...still warm...still with him...that he hadn't lost him too.

Three very long hours later they were driving through rural Wales, it was raining hard. It looked like it had been raining all day. He knew such wet weather would have made the rally treacherous. But Craig was no novice; he'd been rallying since he was sixteen, in the driving seat since he was eighteen when he'd persuaded his older brother to let him take the helm. How could he have been so stupid, so careless? How could he have taken a bend too fast, how'd he let that happen? He wasn't some hothead, some boy racer. He was sensible, he was safety aware. He was a fireman for God's sake; he helped cut people out of car wrecks on a regular basis. The men he now worked with had had to free Micah from what was left of his car. Craig should have known better, he should know better than to take such risks, to risk his life!

He'd been starting to get angry, angry at Craig but that last thought had his stomach churn, his insides twist.

Each day Craig went to work he risked not coming home, how many firemen had lost their lives just doing their job? He suddenly felt sick; it was too harsh a reality, too real a possibility. He could lose Craig so easily, too easily.

Paul was talking, cutting into his thoughts, disrupting their flow, their direction but they had a hold of him now, were battling for control...did he fight against them or did he give in to them and save himself from what seemed to be inevitable heartache and pain?

They were in the hospital grounds now, once parked up they were quickly out of the car, running through the downpour towards the entrance.

It was of course a different hospital to where Micah had been taken, the two places separated by hundreds of miles but it was proving all too familiar a place. The smell, the sounds, the uniforms, the serious faces, all the same. Suddenly he didn't want to be there, he wanted to be a million miles away from the place and the memories it evoked.

After asking some directions, following some signs Paul had led the way in through some double doors, and he found himself standing by a nurse's station. He heard himself asking about Craig Mercer, if he could see him, then he heard his own name being called.

"Bram?"

He turned around to see a stranger looking questioningly at him, a man he recognised instantly. Andy! He was a slightly older version of Craig; they had the same build, the same short black hair, and the same green eyes. He'd never seen two brothers more alike. "Yeah."

Andy's surprise had now turned to concern, "There was no need for you to come, not all this way!"

"No I know, I just needed to see Craig."

Andy was nodding his understanding, his eyes radiating the very same warmth he'd seen so many times in Craig's.

"He's got one hell of a headache but apart from that he's fine."

He was nodding now, grateful to him for trying to reassure him then suddenly remembering that Andy had been in the car too, "What about you? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, my heads a lot harder than our Craig's."

He forced a smile at the light hearted comment, smiling was the last thing he felt like doing. Andy was looking at Paul now, aware they were together. He quickly introduced the two men, then asked if he could see Craig, he couldn't wait any longer.

After gesturing towards a side room, Andy said he'd been about to go get a coffee and invited Paul to join him, the two of them had then thoughtfully made themselves scarce.

He made straight for the door, pushing it open and quickly stepping inside. Craig was sitting upright in bed, nestled against a mound of pillows, his eyes widening in surprise on seeing him.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here more like?" He demanded, the anger had come from nowhere, shocking them both.

"What?"

"You could have been killed!"

"Bram, if I scared you I'm sorry."

He could hear understanding in Craig's voice, the older man had realised why he'd come, why he was so angry at him now. He didn't want his understanding, he wanted him to promise it would never happen again, that he wouldn't endanger his life ever again, but he knew Craig could never make him such a promise.

"I thought..." He couldn't say it, he couldn't get what was his worst fear past his lips. He watched Craig toss back the bedcovers, was he supposed to get out of bed? "Don't!"

"I'm alright, look at me."

Craig was reaching out for him, forcing him to back away; he didn't want him touching him, that would make what he had to do so much harder, impossible maybe.

"Bram?"

"I thought I could do this, but I can't."

"What do you mean?"

He knew, he could see it in his eyes, Craig knew what was coming.

"I want out, I want out now before..."

"No. You're upset, you're not thinking straight. We just need to talk what you're feeling through."

"It won't change anything. The fear's never going to go away, and I can't live with it. I can't. I'm sorry."

He watched Craig's face harden against him, trying to hide his hurt, better he hurt him now than further on down the line and he would eventually.

"You'd better be sure, "Craig stated coldly, "Because If you walk away from me now then that's it, there's no coming back."

He'd given Craig a similar ultimatum, he wished now Craig had made a different decision.
"I'm sure." Somehow he managed to instil some finality into his words, then he turned around and walked out of the door.

....

"He didn't come all this way just to dump you." Andy Mercer reasoned from his bedside chair.

"Well he just did!" Craig snapped, pummelling his pillows in an attempt to make them somewhere near comfortable.

"He's had a scare and reacted badly to it, after what you've told me about him it doesn't surprise me. Give him a few days and..."

"No. That's it now; I don't want to know."

"I thought he was the one..."

"I never said that." Craig exclaimed wondering where the hell his brother had got that idea from.

"You didn't have to, the way you've been talking about him told me that much."

"Well you've got it wrong. He's just a kid, a messed up one at that. It was just a bit of fun; it's over, no big deal."

Shaking his head at his brother's uncharacteristic disdain Andy said, "You must have hit your head harder than I thought because your brain's addled! You care deeply for him I know you do, and from what I saw of him out there before, he cares about you just as much."

"You're wrong; I got it wrong...again."

"Yes you got it wrong in the past and remember I realised that long before you did, I tried telling you then but you wouldn't listen, well you're going to listen to me now. I know Bram walking out that door hurt but its different this time, it's not because he doesn't care about you, like those other two nobs you fell for. It's because he does, it's because he cares so much about you it scares him. He just needs a bit of time, some space...and for you not to give up on him."

....

They were sitting in the car, Paul shaking his head at him in disbelief. He was waiting for the other man to find his voice, to start in on one of his bollocking's, which would be closely followed no doubt by some of his well intentioned advice, advice he didn't want or need. The sooner he got them both over with the better, they could go home then.

"What were you thinking? No you weren't thinking that's just it. You do these stupid things when you're heads all over the place. Haven't you learnt by now that that's the time when you take a step back, when you avoid making decisions, that way you don't go making the wrong one."

He knew he should just let Paul's words wash over him, just let him rant until he'd got his disappointment in him out of his system, but he still had some fight in him, some rebellion, and he never could keep his mouth shut when someone was having a pop at him, "You were the one who said I wasn't ready for another relationship!"

"This is not about whether you're over Micah or not. It's about you being scared of losing Craig! Well you just have!" Paul said incredulous at the very fact. "You've just cut your nose off to spite your face and you're going to regret it!"

"No."

"There was me thinking you'd somehow let him slip through your fingers but I didn't ever think you'd purposefully drop him!"

"Paul..."

"So you think you can just forget all about him now. That finishing with him won't hurt, that you won't wake up thinking about him in the night, or wishing he was lying next to you..."

"Shut up!"

"It's hurting already isn't it, and it's just going to get worse and you know why? Because you've fallen in love with him that's why."

"No! I just met him." God what planet was Paul on? Of course he didn't love Craig, he'd promised himself not to let that happen.

"You got really close to him in a very short space of time; you had to have to be able to trust him, to open up to him, to let him in...close enough to be able to love him.

"No, I still love..."

"Micah! I know you do, a part of you always will but that doesn't mean you can't love Craig... and you do don't you?"

....

Andy had just left, but not before giving him another earful of advice. He always had took his role as big brother seriously, not just where he was concerned either, he looked out for all his siblings but he was going to have to admit it was him he kept the most watchful eye on. It wasn't because he was gay although that did figure in it he supposed. It was because Andy considered him to be too sensitive and too easily hurt... well he had been hurt in all his previous relationships, not that there had been that many. There were only two he would consider to have been serious, well where he was concerned they were. Like Andy said, he'd warned him about both men, could see what was coming, so why couldn't he? He didn't see Bram's bombshell coming either. He hadn't been expecting that. Maybe he should have done, he was the one wary of getting involved too soon, he was the one wanting to take a step back, but once again he'd listened to his heart and not his head, his now mercilessly aching head.

The intense endless throbbing made it difficult to think, it made reasoning even harder, he'd not done a very good job of reasoning with Bram that's for sure. He'd not put up much of a fight to keep him in his life. But his head had been in a spin, he'd been shocked to see him, then over the moon on realising that he was actually here, only to be then thrown by his anger, then unnerved by his determination to end things between them. He didn't know if he was coming or going at that point.

He did know he was hurting and that's why he'd made that ultimatum. He'd thought, hoped it would have the desired effect, that Bram would remember the ultimatum he'd given him, remember everything he'd said at that time, especially about wanting him. If he had, it hadn't changed anything, he'd just turned around and left him standing there. He'd made it look so easy too.

He'd realised then just how much he loved Bram and that he was never going to love him back, that he would never let himself love him. So Andy was wrong, it was time for him to give up on Bram.

....

They were sitting in silence once again, only this time it was Paul waiting for him to speak, to answer his question. So did he love Craig? Paul had a way of making him see a truth, especially one he was hiding so determinedly from, well there was no hiding from it anymore, "Yeah." Now he'd admitted to it, what was he going to do about it?

Ten minutes later Bram was still sitting there, trying to decide what he should do. Did he leave things as they were? Because nothing had changed, he still had this fear of losing Craig, of him dying; and now he knew why it was so intense. But then Paul was right, by dumping him he wouldn't be in his life anyway, he wouldn't see him again, talk to him again, he wouldn't feel his arms around him, his lips on his. He wouldn't again know that safe, cared for, wanted feeling that enveloped him whenever he was with Craig. And Paul had been right about something else, that loss was already hurting, badly.

"Out!" Paul ordered in exasperation. Bram sitting silently staring at his hands was getting them nowhere, certainly no closer to him getting back together with Craig.

"What?"

Ignoring the younger man's startled look he leant across him and threw his door open, "I said out!"

"Paul?"

"It's getting late, I'm not driving all that way home now, so while you're in there putting things right with Craig I'm going to book us into that place Andy's staying in. Ring me when you're ready, I'll come back for you."

"But ..."

"Out...now!"

Bram found himself standing in the drizzling rain, watching the lights on Paul's car until they disappeared around a corner. Only then did he turn around and look at the hospital. 'While you're in there putting things right with Craig'... the older man had made it sound so easy. But he knew it wasn't going be.

He wasn't ready to do this, he didn't know how to do this, he wasn't even sure Craig would want him to do this; after all he'd made it clear he wouldn't take him back. He'd have to be mad to!

....

Craig was standing by the window, looking out into the night, into a very wet night and wondering if it was raining at home? Probably. He wished he was there now, in his flat, where he could mope around to his heart's content. He couldn't do that so easily here. The nurses kept popping in and out, checking on him, bringing him cups of tea, medication. He might have enjoyed all the attention another time but not now, right now he just wanted to be left alone.

He hoped the painkillers the Night Sister had just given him would ease his headache, take the edge off it at least, it was going to keep him awake otherwise, and he desperately wanted to sleep, he wouldn't think about Bram if he did.

When the door had opened yet again he'd expected to see one of the nurses, he had a smile on his face ready for her. Their job was hard enough without having to look at his miserable mush, and he was miserable, he'd never been more miserable in his life. The smile had disappeared on seeing Bram.

Once again he was taken aback; he'd thought him long gone. He could tell Bram didn't know what to make of his reaction; he was just standing there looking at him questioningly. He stared right back, waiting for him to speak, to make the first move.

"Do you want me to go?"

Did he? His head said yes but his traitorous heart said no...his heart was always getting him into trouble so he'd intended saying 'yes and don't come back' but that's not what had come out of his mouth. "I thought you'd gone," had slipped out instead. He knew he'd sounded more hostile than friendly but he couldn't help it, he was hurting, Bram had hurt him badly. He'd never believed he could or would.

"I got as far as the car."

"Wouldn't it start?" He could see Bram wasn't sure what to make of that remark, that he didn't know if it was meant jokingly or sarcastically, he wasn't sure either.

"Craig..."

"What? What is it you want?" He could see Bram was struggling, he knew the younger man had a hard time expressing himself and that he wasn't making it any easier for him now, well why should he?

"To talk."

"That'll be a first, you wanting to talk." He'd snapped that out, he knew Bram wouldn't mistake that for anything other than sarcasm.

"So you meant what you said?"

"What do you think?" Bram was looking at him now like he didn't know him. Well he didn't know this side of him; his defensive side, the 'you hurt me and I'm not going to let you hurt me again' side. It wasn't pretty and he didn't like it, but it was the only way he knew how to protect himself. Richie had seen it on the night he'd found out he'd been sleeping with someone else. Stuart when he'd suddenly turned violent towards him. He'd not given them a second chance. He'd closed himself off, turned cold, hard. It was all an act because he was neither of those things, he didn't want to think he was anyway.

"I don't know, the way you're being with me now then yes."

"The way I'm being with you! You're the one who ended it."

"I know, but like you said I wasn't thinking straight."

"But you are now?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"I realised something."

"What?"

"That I..."

"That you what?" He asked impatiently, what was Bram trying to say?

"Why are you making this so hard for me?"

"Because it's hard for me! Right now it's hard just to look at you, to be in the same room as you, knowing you'll never..."

"Never what?"

He could only shake his head; Bram had no idea what he was talking about. Did he never wonder how he felt about him? Did he really not know how much he cared about him, how much he loved him. Well if he didn't know now he never would because he had no intentions of ever telling him.

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

"I know." He heard himself acknowledge. The sincerity in the younger man's voice had somehow reached behind the wall he had erected around himself and had tugged at his heart, his oh so very tender wounded heart.

It seemed that show of weakness had given Bram the green light because he was striding over to him now to stand just inches away from him. So close he could feel his body heat and see into his eyes, and what he could now see shining in their blue depths was making him want to reach out and pull him into his arms. The urge to hold him was suddenly overwhelming. But he couldn't, wouldn't... because he had to be seeing something that wasn't really there!

....

As he'd walked in through the hospital entrance Andy had been walking out. He'd expected him to be annoyed with him at the very least but on seeing him the older man had smiled warmly and said, "I knew you'd come back."

He'd been surprised by Andy's reaction, had given him a half smile in return. It was all he could muster. His heart was heavy, aching, he was so fearful he'd lost Craig for good. He couldn't believe his stupidity, well actually he could, he was always doing stupid things. Like Paul had said, when he was all worked up about something he would never stop and take a step back from it; he would just react to the situation, to the upset and would almost always end up regretting his actions...just like earlier.

Realising then that Andy could maybe give him some idea of the sort of reception he'd get from his brother he'd said, "But does Craig want me back?"

The older man had looked at him thoughtfully before saying, "He's a lot like you, he puts up walls, barriers, anything that will keep the hurt out, you just need to remember that when you walk into his room."

That's all Andy had said, and he hadn't known what to make of it, but as soon as he'd set eyes on Craig he'd understood.

It was as if a complete stranger was standing there looking back at him. He'd nearly given up there and then. But he hadn't, he couldn't, he'd realised he was going to have to fight for what he wanted.

Craig had been so distant, so hostile towards him, seemingly unreachable. It had thrown him and he'd floundered helplessly in his attempts to talk to him, it seemed Craig just didn't want to know.

Then he'd said he was sorry and he was, truly sorry, he hated knowing he'd caused Craig pain, he hated himself for again hurting someone he cared so much about. That was when he'd caught a glimpse of the Craig he knew, the first sign that all was not lost.

It had given him some hope, some heart and had fuelled his determination to break down the walls Andy had warned him about, up until that moment he hadn't really believed he could, and so he'd walked up to Craig and got right in his face.

He was used to seeing only warmth in those green eyes, but all he could see at that moment in time was confusion and uncertainty. He hadn't known what to do about it, but with Craig so close, just a heartbeat away, he'd quickly found inspiration and had reached out, curled his fingers around the back of his neck, and gently but firmly pulled him into a kiss. There had been no resistance and after tenderly caressing Craig's lips with his own he'd whispered against them, "I love you."

He'd watched the warmth flood back into Craig's eyes, drowning all the doubt and bewilderment that had been there previously. Then suddenly he was the one being kissed, and being held and so very tightly too, he'd found himself swamped by a wave of affection, with what he knew to be love...and the resulting high was still keeping awake all these hours later!

....

Despite it being some unearthly hour of the night he just couldn't sleep. It wasn't because of the unbelievably hard hospital mattress he was lying on or the lumpy pillows under his head, it was because of Bram, because he just couldn't stop thinking about him. He was he realised, hopelessly love-struck and had been for a while!

The nurse had just been into his room and was concerned on finding him still awake, she'd wanted to know if it was because of his headache, if it had got any worse. What headache? Ever since he and Bram had admitted their true feelings for each other he'd not been aware of any pain, the unbearable ache in his heart having gone too. He'd reassured the nurse, turned down the offer of a cup of tea and in the darkness of his room had got back to his thoughts.

His mind kept on replaying the kiss that Bram had taken him so completely by surprise with, and the three words that had swiftly followed it. He'd been elated, on cloud nine, and after the initial shock had worn off, when he'd come back down to earth he'd pulled Bram into his arms just like he'd been longing to do, to first kiss then tell him just how much he loved him.

He'd wished them back at his flat then, in his bedroom, in his bed. He'd wanted Bram so badly, had wanted so much to physically love him. A hospital bed wasn't the place for such an expression of his feelings so he'd had to curb his ardour, until tomorrow night at least.

So they'd sat and talked, just for a little while, certainly not for as long as they'd wanted or needed too. And they did need to; they both knew they couldn't let anything come between them so easily again. But it had been late, visiting time long since over, and Paul was waiting on a call to pick Bram up. They'd had to say goodnight and reluctantly spend another night apart.

He'd been relieved to hear that they weren't making the long journey home tonight. And it helped knowing Bram was just a few miles down the road and not a few hundred, it made their enforced separation a little more bearable somehow.

He was smiling to himself now, remembering something Andy had said. His brother had been right, but then he always was, that fact had irritated him at times, but not this time, he didn't mind him being right about Bram...that he hadn't come all this way just to dump him...he'd come all this way because he loved him!

....

Monday morning, now half an hour or so since he'd got off the bus from Hotton, having spent the night before with Craig. He'd gone straight home, the sound of Paul singing along to the radio meeting him at the door. He hadn't heard the older man do that for months, not since Micah had died...well the mood of the house hadn't allowed for it. He'd been drowning in his grief and Paul had been worried sick about him. It seemed Saturday night's revelation had changed that, he was back to his effervescent self or seemed to be.

They'd chatted and laughed over a cup of tea, just like they used to do, then they'd gone their separate ways, Paul to the surgery and him up to his room. There he'd pulled on his overalls before making his way down to the churchyard, that's where he was now, standing in the autumn sunshine.

For so long he hadn't been able to come here, now he was drawn here and he knew why. It was because he felt close to Micah here, even though he now had Craig in his life he wasn't ready to let go of him just yet.

His gaze had settled on the gold lettering, and he was again reading the sentiments they expressed...

Sacred to the memory of.... Beloved son of... Dearly loved partner of... Sunrise August 4th... Sunset June 1st... At peace...

It was a simple tribute but in Bram's eyes the perfect one.

The roses he'd bought had long since gone; flowers he had no idea the name of had taken their place, the bright colourful blooms dancing in the breeze.

Heaving a sigh, he finally found his voice, "No flowers, just me." He couldn't help but smile; he could imagine Micah rolling his eyes at that, feigning disappointment.

It wasn't so long ago that he couldn't think about him without a wave of unbearable sadness washing over him, showering him in misery, tears never very far away. It had been impossible to raise a smile even at the most cherished of memories, it had hurt too much. But now, suddenly or so it seemed he wanted to smile whenever he thought about him, especially when he pictured his face in his mind's eye. Now he saw those huge, wonderfully expressive brown eyes of his sparkling with life, and that dazzling white smile that could light up any room. The face haunting his thoughts before had been pale, drawn, the eyes dull, sunken, the smile absent. It was the face he remembered from those last few days when Micah had begged him to...to... No! He didn't want to remember that time! He pushed the memory back to where it had come from, to the far recesses of his mind, reminding himself that he'd come here to say something, to share something important with Micah,

"I messed up big time on Saturday, I got it so wrong. But I turned it around, managed to make things right. That's because of you...because you taught me not to fear those words, not to be scared of saying them, not if I meant them. I hadn't realised...I didn't know how I felt about him, about Craig, or how he felt about me, but then I never could see what was looking me in the face. I know it's all happened so quickly but it feels right, just like it did with you, when I finally realised I loved you.

"Paul says he's a keeper, he said the same thing about you. I couldn't hold onto to you but I'm going to hold onto Craig, I'm not going to make the same mistakes again. I know what's important now, what matters and because of you I know how to love him and how to let him love me."

Reaching out he touched the stone, lovingly fingering the name there, smiling as he did so.

But then suddenly out of nowhere it hit him... the memory he'd just minutes ago thought he'd successfully quashed, the memory of what he'd done that awful day...wiping the smile from his face, making heavy his heart, and forcing out past his lips, "What I did, I did because I loved you."

....

They always travelled in Andy's car to a rally, the rally car itself towed on a trailer, just in case it wasn't road worthy for the journey home. It hadn't been this time and so they'd hauled what was his pride and joy all the way back to Hollsy, leaving it or rather what was left of it on the garage forecourt.

It had been early Sunday afternoon and Bram's uncle just happened to have been there, catching up on some paperwork. He'd seen the pound signs light up in Joe's eyes on seeing how much work there needed doing on it, but when the older man had realised he and Bram were together he'd told him they'd do whatever needed doing at cost price. He'd even said he'd sort him out a car until the work was done. Joe Miller had looked every bit the hard man Bram had made him out to be, but like the younger man had told him, his heart was in the right place when it came to family.

He hadn't really needed a car, he did have another one, his brother James was using it, he had sort of commandeered it since passing his driving test a few months back. But with the teen using it to travel back and forth to college each day he'd accepted Joe's offer, which was why he found himself at the garage now, late Monday afternoon.

Bram had phoned him, told him it was ready whenever he was, so as he was on enforced sick leave for a couple of days, he'd caught the next bus to Hollsy and was giving it the once over.

He nodded his head appreciatively, "It'll do nicely!" It would, it would get him from A to B and ensure he had something to run him and Bram about, so he was a happy man. Bram didn't seem to be though. His mood had certainly changed since that morning when they'd been curled up in bed. He'd been smiling when he left him, the smile mirrored in his eyes, he was smiling now but his eyes were troubled and everyone knew the eyes were the mirror of the soul!

Craig was on his way to the café, take away drinks and a snack needed for him and Bram. The younger man had been holding the fort while Ben was off picking up some parts and Joe was...well Bram didn't know where Joe was, he just wasn't around. It meant the two of them had some time together even if he had spent most of that time watching Bram work, no hardship there though. An oil smeared Bram looked particularly sexy, well in his opinion he did!

The village was quiet, pleasantly so, none of the incessant traffic noise that met him every time he stepped outside his flat. An elderly lady had just walked passed him, greeting him with a smile and a cheery "Good afternoon," he certainly didn't get that show of friendliness in ?

He was almost at the café door when it opened, he stopped to give whoever was coming through it room to pass, only the lady concerned didn't, she just stopped in her tracks and looked up at him, he suddenly felt very uncomfortable when he realised who it was, it was Micah's mother. He hadn't expected to run into her, to be honest he'd forgotten all about her. She looked equally as surprised to see him and just as uncomfortable but it was her who broke the silence.

"Craig isn't it?"

"Yeah." She was smiling at him now, a genuine smile it was too, he wasn't sure what to make of that, the last time they'd met, which was also the first time, she'd been tearing strips off first Bram and then him. He knew the two of them had since 'made up' but he wasn't sure where he stood with her.

"Can we talk? Please, I won't keep you long."

After nodding his agreement he found himself being steered inside; the woman having tucked her arm in his, was now leading him over to a table. He wished he could remember her name; he was notoriously bad at remembering names. Claire was it? No, Carol? He was sure it began with an C! Wrong! It was Emmy.

Once seated she eyed him questioningly and he felt himself squirm under her gaze, but when she opened her mouth it wasn't to give him a grilling like he'd half expected her to.

"Tea or coffee?"

"Uh, coffee...please, he needed something a little stronger than tea right now." With that she turned away from him, calling their order over to the man behind the counter, the dark haired proprietor then promising to bring their drinks over, leaving the two of them to sit and look at each other.

He didn't usually have a problem talking to anyone; he'd inherited his mother's gregarious nature, shutting him up was the problem normally but right now he found himself tongue-tied...well he was her dead son's lover's new lover! It made things a little awkward, for him it did anyway.

"Firstly, I owe you an apology."

"No." He protested, there was no need for that, she'd been upset, he hadn't liked her having a go at Bram but he could understand it, so too her having a pop at him. "There's no need."

"Yes there, is. I'm sorry, for what I said for what I did."

He'd been going to say apology accepted only they were no longer alone, their drinks were being set down on the table and he found himself being introduced to the man now smiling down at them.

"Ken this is Craig, Bram's boyfriend."

All the time he was shaking hands with Ken, exchanging a few words with him it was quickly sinking in that Emmy had accepted his and Micah's relationship, at least it sounded like she had, she'd sounded so matter of fact, like it was old news where she was concerned. He felt a lot more comfortable in her presence now, a lot more relaxed, and knowing they were bound to bump into each other again he also felt relieved. If they were on friendly terms it would make things easier for Bram too, and he was sure the two of them could now be friends. He hoped so anyway, he was a part of Bram's life now and knew she was too.

With Ken having left them to serve another customer he took a sip of his coffee then met Emmy's gaze wondering what was coming next, he knew something was, the warmth was still in her eyes but her expression had turned more serious.

"I wanted to thank you, for what you've done for Bram."

"Emmy..." He was uncomfortable again, he didn't want thanking, he didn't need thanking, all he'd really done was fall in love.

"Please, I need to say this."

He smiled across at her giving her the go ahead; if it was going to be of any help to her then he'd bite the bullet and listen.

"For a while it looked like we might lose Bram too, then you came along...heaven sent according to Mo!"

He was having to stare into his coffee now, he really hadn't done anything.

"All I want is for Bram to be happy, he deserves to be and he is now but... I just...well I care about him and I don't want to see him hurt..."

"I won't hurt him." He'd had to get that in then and there, and eyed her steadily wanting to reassure her in any way he could.

"My son loved him, I admit I didn't always see why, not in the beginning anyway. But after the accident, I saw the real Bram Hughes, the Bram, Micah knew, and I watched him blossom, slowly come into his own. The months after...the last few especially... the love and devotion he showed my son...well I just want to say you're a very lucky man and to please not to ever forget that."

He could only smile, he knew he was lucky to have found Bram, to be loved by him.

He was on his way back to the garage now, it was a wonder Bram hadn't come looking for him, he'd been an hour at least! He'd still be there now if Emmy hadn't remembered she had a dentist's appointment and hurried off to catch the next bus into town. He and Emmy had got talking, a little about Micah, but mostly about Bram. He had gained some insight into the last few weeks of her son's life, in particular the strength Bram had shown throughout. Bram hadn't actually told him much about that time, not in any great detail, and he hadn't pressed him to. He was beginning to wonder now if Bram needed to talk in depth about what had happened. According to Emmy he wouldn't set foot in her home, was that because he couldn't or wouldn't revisit some painful memories? It concerned him, but he wasn't sure just what to do about it, if indeed anything. He realised it was a very private time, and he didn't want to trespass on that but then if Bram needed him to, he would.

He could see Bram now, leaning against the car he was borrowing, he was looking at the cottage next door, eyes fixed on it, seemingly lost in thought. He now knew it to be Emmy's, she's made a point of telling him where she lived, told him he'd always be welcome there.

So, was what had happened there what was now troubling Bram? Something told him it was.

....

Three o'clock in the morning and not an ounce of sleep in him. He was staring out of his bedroom window at the village below. It was so very quiet everywhere, the only sound breaking the silence of the night Craig's soft rhythmic breathing, telling Bram he was fast asleep. He should be too, their lovemaking had been exhausting.

He was tired, more than tired, but sleep just wouldn't come and he'd given up on it eventually. So after easing himself out of Craig's arms he'd made his way over here, pulling open a curtain to gaze absently outside into the night as he let his mind wander back over his day. Try as he might he couldn't stop himself from thinking about the time he'd spent in the churchyard, it was the cause of his wakefulness now, so there was just no avoiding it. He'd managed though to move his thoughts on to where Craig appeared to have done a vanishing act. He'd only gone to the café for a drink for them both, but had been gone ages.

He hadn't had chance to ask him where he'd been all that time, Ben had turned up and he'd introduced them to each other properly this time. The two men had got talking about the rally car and half an hour later they were still talking about that and about rallying itself, he was the only one actually doing any work.

As he'd worked he'd listened to them talking, and had heard Craig telling Ben that he was going to be taking over from his brother as co-driver. He'd smiled at that, he was really looking forward to it. Last week he'd found some footage of rallying on YouTube. Cameras positioned inside cars showing what happened during a rally, there were some of actual crashes too, some quite spectacular ones, Craig's had to have been equally as spectacular from what he knew about it. Despite that he could see why Craig was so into it, and he was sure he'd get the same sort of kick out of it too. He liked the idea of them sharing an interest that got them not only out and about but one that would take them all over the country. It also meant he could keep an eye on Craig; he'd make damn sure he didn't take a bend too fast ever again.

Paul had put in an appearance then, he'd been on his way home and seeing Craig had stopped the car and got out to ask how he was, the three older men then nattering on like three old women, it was beginning to look like a meeting of the W.I!

At some point Paul had invited Craig to stay for his tea, and to his dismay Ben had then suggested they meet up in the pub later. Craig had looked to him for his ok and he'd found himself nodding. It was the last thing he wanted to do but Craig obviously wanted to do some socialising here so how could he say no.

He'd wanted to get away from Hollsy, just him and Craig, away from what was on his mind, but he supposed a night at the Plough would help him forget just the same.

It had too, they'd had a good time, his best friend Lee had turned up and it was the first time for him to meet Craig, the two of them had got on like a house on fire. He was pleased that Craig got on so well with his friends, and he'd desperately wanted them to like him, just like they had Micah.

He'd been able to introduce Craig to more of his family, his Uncle Malc and his cousin Ste; mercifully neither his mother nor Emmy had been there. There'd been some sort of clothes party, underwear or unmentionables as Bessie the village gossip liked to call them, over at a neighbours. Most of the women were there, except for the oldies. Bessie and Mo had been sitting by the bar, and Mo having met Craig the day he'd returned his phone had introduced Bessie to him, the two fawning all over him like they had Micah. Craig didn't seem to mind the attention, in fact he'd been lapping it up and it was while he was talking to them that he'd realised he was on soft drinks. He'd asked him about it when they'd finally had a minute to themselves.

"What's with the orange juice? Everyone else is on pints."

"Yeah well I'm driving remember."

"I thought we were staying at mine tonight?" He'd taken it for granted they would be.

"Are you sure that's ok?"

"Yeah Paul won't mind."

"I wasn't thinking about Paul."

"What were you thinking about then?"

"You...us in what was yours and Micah's bed!"

The thought hadn't crossed his mind, now it had he was a little thrown by it but he didn't want Craig to see that, "It's alright, I want you to stay."

He must have sounded convincing because Craig had smiled at him, then leant in to kiss him, it had been a quick smack on the lips, nothing intense or lingering but he'd been mortified by it because they were in full view of the entire pub. As Craig had got to his feet to go to the bar he'd looked around him to see if anyone had noticed.

Embarrassment had soon given way to disappointment in himself. He'd said he wouldn't let stuff like that happen again, he'd hurt Micah by shying away from showing him any affection in public, he didn't want to do the same to Craig. And anyway if he could snog the face off both men in a gay bar why couldn't he be a little less demonstrative in his local? He was going to have to work on that.

They'd left before Paul, he was keeping Mark company or so he'd said, more like he was giving them time to get home and 'settled' for the night. So with everyone else either having gone home or still supping it had just been the two of them walking the short distance up the hill to Willow Cottage, he wasn't surprised when Craig had grabbed hold of his hand, again he'd felt uneasy, that unease was something else he was going to have to work on.

Once inside he'd led Craig straight upstairs to his bedroom, within minutes they were naked and in bed. He'd been more than a little anxious about it, like Craig had said it had been his and Micah's bed, and both the room and the bed held a lot of memories for him. But as soon as he'd felt Craig's hands on him, it was Craig alone who'd filled his thoughts.

After they'd talked for a little while, just pillow talk and then when a contented silence had settled around them Craig had quickly fallen asleep.

Hours later he was still awake, for a while he'd been happy to just lie there, there was no place he'd rather be than in Craig's arms but as time went on and his thoughts strayed he grew restless, agitated and he'd got out of bed before he'd disturbed the older man.

He didn't know how long he'd been standing here, he just knew his thoughts kept taking him down the hill to Brambles. Always before he'd had his grief and other hurt to call on to help block the memory of what had happened there, but they weren't so powerful a force now, and his mind kept travelling back in time to the day he'd helped Micah to end his life.

....

Craig wasn't sure where he was at first, he just knew he wasn't in his own bed, and he very rarely woke up in an unfamiliar one so where...he remembered now it was Bram's bed, but where was he? He turned his head towards the light and there silhouetted against it was a familiar form, "Bram?"

Oh great! Craig was awake now.

"What you doing?"

"Nothin'." Well he was, he was trying to forget what he'd done, like he ever could.

"Well come back to bed and do nothin' here...or better still I'll find you something to do!" He could think of a few ways to pass the time.

Bram smiled despite himself, Craig was insatiable, and maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, he could lose himself in sex, but then that wouldn't be fair on Craig would it? It would be using him. He couldn't do that...he loved him.

"Bram?"

He turned around and in the light filtering in from the streetlamp he could see Craig was now getting out of bed, making his way over to him. He hadn't realised just how cold he was until he felt Craig's arms fold around him, his body heat against his chilled skin.

"Bloody hell how long have you been standing here you're freezing!"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Is it me being here?" He'd worried it might stir up some memories for Bram, unsettle him in some way. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea..."

"No." How did he tell him it was about Micah but not about the bed or the room? They held memories yes, some wonderful memories but it had been a long time since he and Micah had slept in here together, the last time a while before the accident. They had shared the bed after it though, just the once. He'd had a brainwave, well it had seemed like a great idea at the time and he'd got Paul to help him carry the bed down into the front room. What a palaver that had been! But they'd managed it in the end.

He'd just wanted to hold Micah like he used to do, be as physically close to him as was possible, and he wanted to show Micah, prove to him that he loved him the way he was, that the paralysis hadn't changed the way he felt about him and never would.

He'd not let on to Micah what he had planned, had brought him here on the pretence of watching a DVD, then he'd sprang it on him, truly believing he'd like the idea, that he would want the same thing. But he hadn't liked the idea, not at all, and had made all sorts of excuses not to stay the night, but after a lot of persuading he had finally agreed. It was to be the first and the last time.

It had had totally the opposite effect to what he'd wanted it to have on Micah. He'd refused to stay here again, telling him he couldn't bear to be lying next to him and not feel him there, and worse that it had crucified him to have him so close and not be able to make love to him like he'd done so many times before. His words had devastated him, he hadn't meant to cause him such mental torture, but it seemed he had.

"Bram? Hey, where were you just now?"

Craig's soft voice had broken into his reverie, "What?"

"You were miles away." More proof that something was troubling him.

"Sorry," He was doing it again, letting the past trespass on the present, "Come on, let's go back to bed."

"No wait." He wasn't going to let this opportunity to get Bram talking slip by. "Something's on your mind and has been all day."

"No."

"I know something is..."

He was shaking his head now, Craig was pushing him and it was making him irritable, "Craig..."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with Brambles cottage would it?"

That had thrown him, how had Craig known that?

Bram had just visible tensed and it told him all he needed to know, "I thought so..."

"No you're wrong." He wasn't talking about it to Craig, he didn't want him to know what he'd done, he didn't want anyone to know especially Craig.

"It might help if you talked to me about it."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Emmy said..."

"Emmy?" Now his hackles really were up.

"Yeah I ran into her in the café and we talked..."

So that's why he'd been so long. Shrugging off Craig's arms he spat accusingly at him, "You've been talking to her about me!"

"No... well actually yes but ..."

"What did she say?"

Only that she cares about you, worries about you..."

"Well there's no need, you know there isn't."

"I'm not so sure. I thought you'd worked through what was hurting you, but I don't think you have , not all of it anyway."

"I have." He'd shared all he could with Craig and it had helped him grieve properly, it had helped him move on. But if he was to tell him about...well he might look at him differently, he just might decide he didn't like what he saw.

"You didn't tell me Micah made you Health Care Proxy. I know what that is, I know what it entails..."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Ok you don't want to but that doesn't mean you don't need to."

"I don't need to so will you just drop it."

He couldn't not now, "Emmy said that you fought Micah's corner all the way. She said you stood up to his dad, to the doctor..."

"I told you I don't want to talk about it!" He'd just raised his voice at Craig, and he could feel his anger intensifying, no way was he going to talk to Craig about that time, he was scared of where it would lead, of what he might admit to doing.

What should he do? Did he push Bram into talking or did he let it go? He had heard anger in Bram's voice but pain was all he could see in his eyes. It reminded him of the time he'd called at the garage and Bram had hit out at him. That had been pain fuelled anger too. He'd been angry at Micah then, but he'd let all that anger go so who was it he was angry at now, him for pushing him to talk or himself for whatever reason? No the anger wasn't aimed at him; it would be visible in his eyes if it was.

Something was troubling Bram deeply, it seemed there was a lot more to this than he'd first thought. But he couldn't make Bram talk, encourage yes but not make, and he was adamant that he didn't want or need to. He was going to have to back off for now at least, but not before chipping away a little at his defences, "Sorry. If you don't want to talk about it you don't have to, but remember I'm here for you if and when you do."

A sense of weariness washed over him, Craig's words draining the fight from him. He nodded his understanding, not trusting himself to speak; it might all come pouring out if he did. He realised now he needed to tell Craig, that it would always stand between them if he didn't. But did he dare share a secret that might well tear them apart?

Craig had taken hold of his hand and was silently leading him back to bed; again no need for words to pass between them. Once back in the warmth Craig pulled him into his arms, and he fed off the comfort the older man emitted. He snuggled still closer, but somehow he just couldn't get close enough and so tightened his hold on Craig, closing his eyes, willing sleep to come, but knowing it wouldn't.

There was a battle raging inside of him now, the sudden urge to tell Craig what he'd done vying with the fear of him rejecting him if he did. Craig was in the business of saving lives, he didn't help take them. But then he'd understood Micah wanting to end his life...his existence as he'd called it. He'd understood completely, had even helped him understand it.

Bram was holding around him so tightly now, holding on for dear life or so it seemed, like he was scared he'd get up and leave him if he was to ever let go. What did that tell him? That Bram was scared of losing him...that whatever it was he was holding back from him was something he feared would come between them. What though? What could it possibly be? It didn't matter what it was! It wouldn't make any difference to the way he felt about him, and Bram needed to hear that from him now. Gently tilting Bram's face upwards so that they could look into each other's eyes he said, "I love you; nothing you tell me will change that." It was all the reassurance he could give, but hopefully it was enough to help Bram open up to him.

He felt his heart swell in his chest; it was just what he needed to hear. He just had to believe it now. He desperately wanted to but other people who he believed loved him had turned their backs on him when he'd done wrong. His dad had for one and wasn't a parent's love supposed to be unconditional? Paul's was, and Micah he had forgiven him so much. Craig loved him in the exact same way he was sure of that and he loved him, trusted him, he just needed to put his faith in him.

This wasn't the place though was it? In bed, in the half-light, in Craig's arms! But then maybe it was.

So how did he do this? Where did he start?

"I'd let him down so many times, but he trusted me to be in control of what happened to him, he trusted me with his life...and with helping him to end it."

"Because he knew how much you loved him."

He was smiling, nodding his head at that, "Yeah, he knew." The smile fading at his next thought, "He'd made it clear in that Living Will, that should he become ill he wanted no medical intervention, he didn't want to go into hospital, no medication, no drips, nothing that would prolong his life. He wanted nature to take its course. Emmy accepted it eventually, his dad never did.

"I'd agreed to...I'd signed on the dotted line...but I didn't think I'd ever have to act for him, speak for him, it wasn't supposed to happen that way, I thought we had months before he...but he caught that damn f*****g virus that was going around, we all did, but it hit him hard. He didn't have the strength to fight things off like you or me, and he had no intentions of fighting it anyway. He knew he'd found a way out.

"It really weakened him. John kept calling the doctor out, they tried to talk him into going in to hospital...talk? Bully more like! See at first all he needed was antibiotics, a drip, he could have fought his way back then, but no.

"He argued with them and although they were listening they weren't hearing, they didn't want to... he looked at me, silently asking me to help him... I told them no, he wasn't going anywhere. I had to keep on telling them that his wishes were to be followed no matter what.

"John he...he wanted to know how, if I loved his son, could I stand by and watch him die? He just couldn't understand that it was because I loved him that I had to let him go.

"Each day he got a little weaker, he was hardly eating, drinking very little. The doctor told us it could take weeks...that it would be a lingering death. It was so hard on Emmy, John, and Micah hated what it was doing to them...to me. He wanted it over, and he soon had it all worked out in his head.

"He'd had trouble sleeping, his mind just wouldn't switch off some nights, and the accident had left him with terrible headaches at times. So he had sleeping tablets, pain killers and when he'd first told the doctor he wanted an assisted death he'd prescribed him antidepressants too. There were all these pills sitting there in a drawer...he couldn't get to them but he knew I could...

Craig had just felt his heart lurch in his chest, he'd realised where this was going now and it had shaken him, he'd believed, like everyone else that Micah had died because he'd refused medical treatment. It seemed that wasn't the case.

"Then one morning when there was just me and him there, he asked me to give them to him, all of them. He said he'd just fall asleep then and not wake up. I told him I couldn't, but he begged me, he begged and begged me to help him die...I knew I couldn't do anything else for him so..."

Bram was looking at him now, desperate for reassurance, needing some sign from him that it was ok to go on.

"It's alright, I understand." He wiped a stray tear away from Bram's cheek aware some were now forming in his own eyes.

"We talked, really talked, laughed and cried...I'd never felt more close to him, but then he said it was time. I crushed every one of those tablets, mixed them into a drink...gave it to him and then called those he'd asked to have around him. They just thought he'd taken a turn for the worse.

"He was getting more and more drowsy, then when he'd said what he needed to say to his mum and dad, I got in bed beside him, held him, he told me he loved me and I told him how much I loved him. He just slowly slipped away..."

His tears were falling now, just like Bram's, streaming endlessly down both their faces, Bram weeping for Micah, him for Bram's pain, "You've been carrying that around with you all this time." He couldn't imagine how heavy a burden it had been.

"I couldn't tell anyone."

"Only me." The fact Bram had told him spoke volumes, it told him all he needed to know about their relationship.

"You don't think any less of me?"

Shaking his head he tightened his hold on Bram and smiling through his tears said softly, "Knowing you love so selflessly makes me love you even more."

....

They'd overslept, surfacing an hour late. Bram had sent him down stairs to make them a brew while he took a quick shower and readied himself for work.

He'd found Paul sitting at the table, he wasn't used to having breakfast with the 'in-laws' and felt a little awkward about it but the older man was smiling warmly at him quickly putting him at ease. He could see Paul was holding some photographs, "What you got there, holiday snaps?"

"No, Emmy's just dropped them off on her way into town; she thinks Bram might be ready to look at them now. They're pictures of Micah." Gesturing to the chair next to him Paul said, "Would you like to see them?"

"Yeah," Of course he would. He'd finally be able to put a face to the name. Once seated he took the pictures from Paul and gazed down at the face smiling back at him. An icy finger ran up and down his spine as he did so.

"Craig?" Paul had just watched the colour drain from the younger man's face.

"I've seen him...a few weeks back...he spoke to me!"

"Craig he's been dead four months!" Paul stated incredulously.

"I know but it was him I know it was. That...that night I met Bram, I'd had a bad day at work, gone to Bart's Bar wanting to chill out but when I got there it looked busy and I just couldn't be bothered. I was about to turn around and go home when 'he' appeared, he was smiling at me...that same heart stopping smile! He said, 'c'mon you miserable prat, it could be your lucky day.' I remember looking at that smile and thinking yeah it just might be... but when I got inside I couldn't see him, I looked for him...and then I saw Bram...

....

Craig had brooded over his experience, his 'meeting' Micah. He knew it had happened, that it had been real. Nothing, no one would ever convince him otherwise, he just didn't understand how it was possible.

He could remember that night as if it was yesterday; the details still, all these weeks later, crystal clear in his head. He had been attracted to the other man, so much so that he had followed him into Bart's with the intent of talking to him, getting to know him. But when he'd gone inside, it was like he'd just vanished into thin air. He had been right behind him, hot on his heels, then something had distracted him, only momentarily, and in those few seconds the object of his interest had disappeared. He had looked for him, had checked every nook and cranny of the club, but he was nowhere to be found and, as he'd headed for the exit door, he'd spotted Bram.

For the second time that night, he was attracted to someone and, after talking to him for a few minutes, he'd forgotten all about the dark-eyed stranger. He'd not given him a second thought, not until today, not until he realised who he was. Now he couldn't get him out of his mind. It seemed he'd seen a ghost that night! The idea didn't scare him, it was a bit too late to be scared now! Now he was just intrigued, in awe he supposed.

It had been twenty minutes or so before Bram had joined him and Paul by the kitchen table, and in that time they had decided not to mention what had happened. Not then anyway. They didn't know how he would take it. There were a great many ways in which he could react, he could just laugh it off, scoff at it, but then he might get angry, or it might scare him, badly shake him. Neither man wanted to upset him in any way. They'd both been shaken at first but, in those twenty minutes, they had regained their composure and Bram hadn't sensed there was anything wrong... if wrong was the right word in this instance.

Paul had quietly told the younger man about the pictures, that Emmy had copies of them all so they were his to keep, gently adding that he'd just shown the pictures to Craig.

Bram had looked uneasy on hearing that, Craig knew it was an uncomfortable moment for him, his new love interest looking at pictures of his first love, someone who had meant the world to him. Bram didn't have to worry about him being jealous, he wasn't the jealous type, not that there was anything to be jealous about. Although he didn't know him, he had the utmost admiration and respect for Micah James. From what Bram and everyone else had told him about Micah, he knew he would have liked him, that they would have been friends. He knew he had to say something, something that would hopefully put Bram at his ease, and the words that had tripped off his tongue seemed to have done just that... "There's some nice ones here, you should get one framed."

Bram had smiled at that idea, but he'd not made any attempt to look at the pictures himself. Paul had excused himself and disappeared into his surgery. Craig knew he had to make himself scarce too, give Bram the space he needed. "I'm going to nip to the shop and get a paper, I won't be long."

He'd done just that, had taken a leisurely stroll to the shop, had chatted to the owner, and one of the other locals, then started to walk back up the hill. But something had told him Bram hadn't had the time he needed alone with his memories. He didn't want to intrude on them, it was all part of the healing process, and so he'd turned around and took himself off in another direction.

He hadn't planned on going to the church yard, it just happened to be in the direction he was going, the gates were open and that somehow seemed like an invitation to go in. There was no one else around, just him and his thoughts.

It was so quiet, so peaceful, an air of calm surrounded him. He felt at ease, and as he walked along the leaf-laden pathway, he realised he wasn't here by chance, that he was here for a purpose.

He had no idea where Micah's grave was, yet his feet seemed to know the way. It was another mystery but he didn't want or need answers. He was accepting of it all now. He soon found himself looking at the marble stone that bore Micah's name. It was in a nice spot, and fresh flowers adorned it.

He had the sudden urge to talk, to say what he was feeling; it didn't seem at all odd to be having a one-sided conversation.

"I love him, and I know you did too, just like I know you brought us together and... I just want to say thank you."

It was late autumn, the sun was shining weakly and there had been barely a breath of wind. But out of nowhere came a sudden rush of air, stirring up the leaves that lay around his feet, above him branches of an overhanging tree bowed and swayed as the invisible current swept through them. It might have spooked some people but it had made him smile. He knew his words had been heard.

As the air around him stilled, he reached out with his hand, gently trailing his fingers along the top of the stone in one last display of heartfelt gratitude.

End

Author's Note

Any and all constructive comments welcome