Over the years he'd got used to Stephen's fatigue after he'd pushed himself through something he wasn't quite ready for. It was newer, being allowed to see it written into his face by the lines embedded there by the time they got home that evening in August.
They made it back to Dec's house and he let Stephen sit on the arm of the sofa, pulling him into an embrace, with his chin on the younger man's head. And he could feel the weight of Stephen's forehead, gently pushing against his chest in a silent display of gratitude.
They didn't speak for some time. Dec didn't say 'It could have been worse,' or 'See, that wasn't so bad, was it?' largely because he was still thinking over everything Maureen had said. It seemed painfully unfair that so much hurt had been caused by someone who really did mean well. But he didn't know how long meaning well was an excuse for repeatedly saying the wrong thing.
"You talked to her, didn't you?" Stephen asked eventually, the question muffled but discernible nonetheless.
"Yeah," Dec murmured, not sure how Stephen would take that news. He felt a hand toying with the bottom of his jacket, playing with the hem; a silent way to say it was fine. "I wanted to do something. I needed to know where she was coming from."
"And?"
"I know saying give it time is hard to hear," Dec started hesitantly, "She is trying, Stevie. That doesn't mean you have to let her in or that we should go back to how we were with them before. But I think she will get there eventually."
"You didn't have to talk to her for me," Stephen said quietly, choosing to say that rather than answer Dec's point.
"I wanted to," Dec said again. "And I needed to know for myself. You're just starting to figure things out up here" – he kissed Stephen's forehead lightly – "Let me take care of some of the other parts, pet."
"I think some part of me hoped everything would be okay by now," Stephen murmured, "As if coming out publicly was the only thing left for us to do."
"I wish it was that simple."
(*~*)
Dec had been distracted all day. Not quite the same distracted as he had been during the last few weeks of their tour; that was far more deliberate, like he was pretending they didn't have a show that evening; but frequently getting lost in his own thoughts.
"What's wrong, Decs?" Ant asked, knowing he'd lose his window to ask if they got too close to his house before he started the conversation. Dec glanced around from his survey of the view from the car window, blinking as if he'd heard Ant speaking but not what had been said. "You okay?"
"Just thinking," Dec said, straightening up, facing straight ahead instead of curling towards the door to show that Ant had his attention.
"What're you thinking about?" Ant asked.
"Tonight," Dec said quietly, putting up less of a fight than Ant had expected. Which only meant there was something about their planned meal that he probably wanted Ant to be aware of.
It had been a combination of unwanted attention from journalists and the tour which had stopped Lisa from insisting a meal with Dec and Stephen before now. And maybe Ant had done some evading on their behalf, more than aware of the other challenges the two of them were facing, even if Dec had been quieter about those. He couldn't hide the stress in his resting expression.
But now, seven o'clock on that Friday evening had come around and somehow Dec had added another few layers of lip-biting tension to his expression. And Ant knew what that look meant; that it was about Stephen, about something Ant hadn't yet been informed of.
YOU ARE READING
As we fall apart
Fanfiction"Maybe it would be best if..." "What's that supposed to mean?" "I don't think I can do this anymore." It felt like it came out of nowhere. They'd had a lot to contend with for a long time but still, after it all, they'd had each other. Until they di...
