Without You

4. He Wanted to Cry

A/N - Apologies for the slight delay in updating - I've had a busy work schedule the past few days, and I'm trying to stay at least 1-2 chapters ahead of where I am with the published story. Just as a warning, I made myself proper cry while writing this one. So have your tissues at the ready! 😭

The time on the clock read 6:45PM. The single occupant of the room was shifting constantly, unable to keep still, anxiety building with each second that ticked by, moving the hands of the clock ever closer to 7PM. They had a nervous knot in their stomach, and a cold sweat was forming on their forehead. Restless fingers fiddled with the silver chain hidden under their shirt, eyes resting on the photo that lay on the desk in front of them: Two men – one of them grinning adoringly at the other, the other caught up in uproarious laughter, head and upper body leaning into the slightly taller man's chest. Tears prickled at the person's eyes as they stared at the captured moment of joy, a deep longing to see the other man in that photo, to hug them, hold them, tell them they would be okay. But they couldn't.

Roughly 4 miles away, another person was lingering in a cold room, trying to imagine someone was giving them a warm, reassuring hug and speaking soothing words into their ear. It was a good attempt, but it just wasn't working. The room was empty, they were all alone. Their heart was racing, palms were sweating, vicious cramps were making themselves known in their stomach, and their mind was dizzy with exhaustion and lack of food. They hastily wiped their eyes every few seconds as they stared longingly at the photo in front of them, not able to risk the chance of tears spilling down their cheeks. There was no time for that. Hearing a double knock on the door, the person wrenched their gaze away from the face they yearned to see, the arms they ached to feel wrapped around them, and turned to exit the lonely space.

Back in the other room, the person was beside themselves, pacing to and fro, muttering unintelligibly, beads of sweat visible at their temples and on the back of their neck. It was nearly time, and they didn't know what to do. This was an agony unlike any they'd faced before, and as much as they tried, they couldn't not think about what was happening at this very moment 4 miles across town. Was the other person okay? Would they cope? What if their emotions got the best of them? They were insanely talented, but they didn't believe that. They never had. They were silly like that, never believing in themselves, but always believing in him. But that's just how it worked. They supported each other, loved each other unconditionally. But now the person was all alone. And it was all his fault.

His eyes trained on the clock, which had now struck 6:56PM, the person did something they'd only rarely done their entire life. They bowed their head, tears streaming down their cheeks, hands pressed together, and prayed. The person they were praying for believed in God, while they weren't sure He existed. But it was the only thing they could do, so a most beautiful and fervent supplication was offered up to the heavens, praying for their friend who was facing the biggest challenge of his life, pleading with the Almighty that he be comforted and given the strength and courage he needed to get through the next hour and a half. And when the man finally opened his eyes again, face wet with tears, the clock struck 7:00.

~~~

Stephen Mulhern was waiting in the corridor outside Dec's dressing room, not really sure what he was going to do once Dec emerged, but feeling the need to be there for his friend. Starting when the door opened suddenly and a small, hunched figure hurried out, Stephen felt a chill run down his spine as he caught sight of Dec's face. Now, generally speaking, Dec was a cheerful person – he had his moments of moodiness, but he was normally always up for a laugh even if he was feeling a bit down. And in all fairness, Stephen had never really seen every side to Dec, even though he'd known him and Ant for over 20 years. So he wasn't aware of what Dec could be like when he was incredibly stressed out and nauseatingly nervous. There was a slight tinge of pink to Dec's pale cheeks, and his eyes looked suspiciously red-rimmed, but the most striking thing about him was that he looked incredibly scared and impossibly young. If Stephen hadn't known him better, he would have thought Dec was in his mid-20s.