Three is a crowd.

John Taylor begins to cry.

John was on his second bottle of whiskey by the time it was 10pm. He'd spend all evening trying to think of ways to get Nick back.

Did he hate Simon? No, he had no hatred for him. He couldn't blame Simon for having Nick, even if he wanted to. Simon was giving Nick what he couldn't.

Did he hate Nick? No, he could never hate Nick, no matter what that he did. Sure, he was mad at him. In his eyes he had every right to be, Nick left him. Nick left him alone. Sure John could have any women he wanted, they all fell to his feet. He had his girlfriend, who adored him. However, none of them were Nick. Nick was special, he had been his best friend since they were young. In fact, Nick's first time was with John.

John remembered that day. He was so gentle with Nick, making sure he didn't hurt him. It was so messy really, them kissing so roughly, John fucking Nick so gently, Nick all over John like an excited puppy. He was only 15, and John was 17. That night, Nick promised that he would stay with John, he said he loved him.

Maybe if John had told Nick he loved him that night they would still have each other.

Maybe.

That cold night was the beginning of their secret affair. For years they would lay together. They would constantly lie to their girlfriends, telling them they loved them. It was never true, the only person they loved then was each other.

Nick would tell him often how much he loved him. He would fuss around John for hours, every ounce of affection the boy had was devoted to making John happy.

John never told Nick he loved him. He thought Nick knew, with all the times John showed him. John would hold him for hours, stroking his hair and kissing him softly. When Nick was upset or had a nightmare John was there, wiping away his tears and singing him back to sleep. Then, there was the times John pleasured Nick. Sometimes, he would be gentle and take it slow, earning soft moans from the younger man. Other times he'd be rough, fucking him hard and fast until Nick screamed his name. John thought these proved how much Nick meant to him. Clearly, he was wrong. Nick needed to hear it, and John never told him.

John began to cry now. He couldn't blame Nick for all this, it was his fault. He knew it was his fault. However, John wasn't ready to accept blame. Instead, he found comfort in two lines of cocaine. He snorted them quickly. Would he regret this in the morning? Probably.

Suddenly, John heard the door open. He prayed to God a fan hadn't found their way to his room again.

"John?"

John immediately recognised the voice that called his name. He stood up, and walked slowly the the living area.

"Nick what do you want?" John said bitterly. He didn't mean it to come out harsh, but it was too late to change it now.

"I wanted to talk to you..." Nick said quietly, sitting on the chair. John grabbed another bottle from the side and sat opposite him, taking a swig of whiskey.

"Why? We have nothing to talk about." John retorted, avoiding eye contact.

"Have you been crying?" Nick asked, concerned. John wasn't going to lie, Nick looked nervous and almost scared.

"Nick what the fuck do you want? Is Simon busy?" John was getting more and more annoyed the longer he looked at his friend. John watched one tear roll down Nick's face and he lost it. "Don't you dare start that shit! I fucking loved you! You decided to become Simon's bitch, you're not my problem anymore..." John screamed at Nick, who was crying quietly.

"You told me-"

"I don't care what I told you! Go away Nick, you're just a needy, scared little boy." John cut off his cries and slammed the empty bottle of whiskey on the table. "That's all you are, a little boy who is Simon's fuck toy." Nick left, still crying.

John hated himself for what he just said to Nick. It was the coke speaking, and John was already angry. He had to go fix it in the morning.