There was no such thing as a beautiful bloke.

Was there?

Not that he'd ever believed but then again he'd never seen one that looked quite like the man who was slumped on the floor with his back against the wall, eyes closed, soft blond hair hanging in such a way as to obscure most of his face.  How long he stood there, staring, he didn't know but when the man made a sound and slowly raised his head he felt the blood heat his face, wondering if he had been observed as well.

It was clear that he hadn't been when the blue eyes that peered through the fringe of hair widened at the sight of him.  “Didn't know you were still here.”

“I wasn't.  Actually I had to come back.  Left my book.”  Sav held up the well worn binder that held his notes for songs and such.  “Why are you still here?”

Steve shrugged, taking  great interest in examining a ragged nail on his left hand.  “Why not?”

Sav knew that things were less than happy in Steve's life, and while there was normally little to no discussion of it he couldn't help but be affected by the hurt he could see in his friend, hurt rooted deep and stubbornly refusing to let go.  "Come on, you can come with me.  Can't promise anything much, but I think I can manage a pizza."  Ignoring Steve's grumbled complaints, Sav dragged him to his feet and toward the door.  

~***~

They had been so young.  Young and full of plans and ideas and dreams.  Full of the belief that they could do anything.

Except him.

He'd never quite believed it.

Shivering from the memories as much as the cold, he drew his coat tighter round himself and began the painful walk to where his old friend waited.

~***~

It got to be a habit.  After practice, Steve would come over and they would sit round and do whatever - sometimes playing, sometimes talking, sometimes getting blind drunk.  They talked about everything, but mostly they talked about what it would be like when they made it, when they would be where they wanted, with whom they wanted, and damn the ones that didn't believe.

They were friends, but there was more than that.  They understood each other and didn't expect anything more than what they were, and for Steve that was a welcome reprieve from his life at home.  For Sav, it was a slow lowering of his guard, a comfort in knowing that even if his talk of the girls was sometimes less than the truth that Steve knew and he didn't care.  He never gave away Sav's secret to the others, and for that, if nothing else, Sav would've been grateful to call him a friend.

And then, inevitably, it happened.  

Finally on the road, really on the road, in some place that neither of them could pronounce the name there was a little too much of this and that and in the shadowed darkness of the dank and musty room Sav forgot himself and he kissed him, kissed him with a need born of long hunger and want.  Far drunker than Sav, Steve at first shoved him back, but it was done with less determination than Sav expected so he bored in again, pinning the long, thin body of his friend to the cracked and peeling paint of the wall and kissing him again.

This time, Steve kissed him back.

Sav moaned, sucking the darting tongue that chased his, his hands tugging the shirt free of the too tight jeans and seeking the warmth of Steve's skin.  He felt Steve's flesh jump when the chilled fingers found his ribs, tracing the outline that stood out so sharply but he didn't pull away, his own hands cupping Sav's face, the long, delicate fingers fluttering against his cheeks.

When the kiss ended he thought it was done, he thought there would be no more but the eyes that met his were as inflamed as his own.  He was hard, so hard he ached, and as he slowly sank to his knees he forced his trembling hands to undo the belt and the button and the zipper that hid the equally hard cock that strained forward under those tight, tight trousers, that seemed to leap into his hand as eagerly as he reached for it, guiding the tip to his lips and tracing them, his tongue darting out to lap, to tease.

Fingers tangled in his hair and he forced his eyes to stay open, canting them up and seeing the light from the window framing Steve's face, the blond hair seeming lit by fire as he moaned, thrusting his hips forward and pushing his cock into Sav's mouth.  Sav knew this was too much alcohol and more than likely a few other things Steve had imbibed but he wasn't going to think about it or let it take away from the taste, the smell, the feel  of the hard flesh that was now frantically fucking his mouth, the head jabbing the back of his throat and making him gag but he didn't care, he wrapped an arm round Steve's hips and urged him on, wanting to take him to the root, wanting to take all of him that he could inside.

He refused to allow himself to think of what would come afterward, when the heat of the liquor had faded, when the lust was sated, when reality was once more the predominant factor in their lives.

Then again, what was reality when you were a young, rising star?

Right now, the only reality Sav cared about was the very real knowledge that Steve's cock was throbbing against his tongue and the rising moans and grunts that were mixed with the harsh, panting breath above him was sending him a very clear message that however good it was it was nearly done and he groaned deep in his chest, clinging even more tightly to the bucking hips, trying to remember every moment, every second, every sound and then there was a violent yank of his hair and a choked cry and thick, heavy spurts of slick come splashed against the roof of his mouth and onto his tongue and he frantically swallowed, not wanting to miss any of it as the fucking motion of his mouth grew slower and weaker.

Sav forced himself to let go when Steve fell sideways, pulling his softening cock from Sav's mouth and falling onto the end of the bed nearest the door, passed out before he even came to rest.  Still achingly hard, his lips swollen and his mouth still thick with the taste of Steve's come, Sav struggled to his feet and went to him, rolling him further onto the bed and tucking a pillow under his head.  He struggled with his conscience for a moment and then with a sigh carefully tucked Steve's cock back into his trousers, going so far as to fasten the zipper and the button but leaving the belt undone.

Only then did he head for the en-suite and the shower, and the relief of his hand on his cock as he remembered the taste of Steve's.

~***~

Strange how with so many things he'd forgotten that night remained so clear.

Momentarily lost in the memories he didn't see them at first, not until it was almost too late.  It was the sound of their voices that yanked him back to the here and now and he quickly ducked down a side path, lowering his head and hunching his shoulders to hide as much of his face as he could.

He studied the ground, tracing the lines of dead grass between the stones that managed to somehow cling stubbornly to the cold earth with his eyes, hoping that they would leave soon.  He was more than willing to brave the cold but his body wasn't what it used to be and since his illness he had learned to pay closer attention to any little sign of things being off.

He wished he had always been this observant.  He wished he had been able to see, to know, how little time there was that night....

He bit his lip, remembering.

He had been so hateful, so cruel.

And he had never loved him more.

~***~

"It's not like that."  He was trying to be patient and understanding, but it was getting more and more difficult.  "We want you back, but we need you well, Steve.  If you keep on like this it's going to kill you."

As horrible as he looked he was still beautiful.

It was almost as if the habits that were slowly killing him somehow had already brought out an ethereal look to him, and as he shook his head in denial of Sav's words the sunlight that managed to make it through the cracks in the curtains flamed round his face, his hair nearly white and his skin oh so pale.  "Just tell me now that I'm not coming back!"  Steve raked a hand through his hair, a hand that shook, eyes hot with anger and pain as they focused on Sav.

"You are," Sav said, getting up and slowly approaching him.  "I wouldn't lie to you, Steve.  You know that."

"You have," Steve snapped, "for my own good, right?  Remember?"

Sav winced when he placed his hand on Steve's shoulder.  He had always been thin, but now it was as if you could feel every bone, and he hated the way they shifted under his touch. He didn't move away though, knowing how much Steve craved, actually needed, the human contact.  "If I lied to you it was only done for those reasons, Steve, but I never lied to you about your place in the band.  I want you there," he said softly, "it isn't the same without you.  It's more than a band, remember?  We're family, and brothers don't turn their backs on one another."  Without thinking, he slid his hand higher until it rested on the back of Steve's neck, his fingers beginning a slow massage.  "It's only six months, I swear.  And then it's back to everything the way it should be."

Steve shifted his eyes, looking at the blank wall instead of at Sav.  "Would it be different if it was me instead of him?  Would you have fought harder for me?"  His words broken and bitter, he shrugged his shoulders and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest and shivering in spite of the warmth in the flat.  

Sav had stepped back from the words, flinching as if each one was a blow.  "That's not right, Steve," he whispered.  "I fought for you, I'm still fighting for you.  But what I'm fighting is the fucking demons that come from your family that have controlled you since we met.  You're good enough, good enough for me, for Joe, for...."

"Shut up!" Steve hissed.  "Just shut your fucking mouth!"

"You're good enough for everyone but yourself. Steve.  And for him.  But you never would be no matter what."

"How would you know?"  So angry now that his face was flushed and he was spitting his words, Steve rounded on him.  "What are you, Sav?  Hiding what and who you are behind a marriage to a woman you don't love so no one knows you're a fucking pouf!  Going off with the groupies and closing your eyes and thinking about who so you could manage to give them a fucking roll!  Who did you think about, Sav?  Who was it that had your dick hard?  Who were you really fucking?"

"You know who," Sav said, meeting Steve's furious gaze without blinking.  

"I'd never have let you," Steve snarled, waving his hand toward Sav.  "You should have asked when I was right good and pissed one night though, I might have had a go at your arse.  Couldn't have been much different from some of the groupies that were there."

"So have a go at it now."

Steve snorted.  "I'm not drunk."

"Neither am I.  This time."

Steve's eyes narrowed.  "This time?"

"You don't remember?  It was a long time ago.  I don't even remember the name of the place anymore, but we were both..."

"Stop it.  You're lying," Steve growled through his teeth.  "We never did anything...."

"I can still remember how you taste," Sav said softly, his eyes unfocused as he recalled that night.

"You told me you loved me."

Sav was startled from the past by the bitter pain in Steve's voice.  "I did love you.  I do love you.  I've loved you for so long that I don't know how not to love you.  But I'm afraid of you, Steve.  I'm afraid for you."  He quickly closed the gap between them, cupping Steve's face in his hands and gently stroking his thumbs over the too prominent cheekbones.  "I'd do anything to make you well, Steve."

There was something for a moment in Steve's eyes, a resignation, an acceptance, but whatever it was it was gone so fast that Sav wasn't sure it had ever been.  What he was sure of was the soft brush of Steve's lips against the heel of his hand and then the heat of his breath and suddenly he forgot, he forgot his caution and his promise to himself to never slip again and they were kissing, kissing hard,and he was afraid for the frailty of the body under his hands but Steve's hands were strong on his.

None of this made any sense, none of it should have been but it was and Sav couldn't find the will to stop it.  Not when it was something he had wanted for so long for this was indeed what he had dreamed of -- not only Steve's willing participation but a hunger that matched his own and as they stumbled toward the bedroom, lips still joined and tongues dueling frantically, he lost what little reason he had left and threw himself into the whole idea without reservation.  

Clothes were lost in the fumbling and when they finally reached the bed and crashed upon it he nearly cried out for now he could see and feel just how fragile Steve was but there was no weakness in his kiss or the touch of his hands, hands that pinned Sav to the bed while his lips and teeth feasted on the exposed flesh of Sav's throat.  Sav knew there was resentment and anger in all of this but he didn't care, he couldn't care, not when he'd wanted this for so long.  Fingers tangled in his hair and he found his head forced down, his mouth barely able to skim Steve's chest and ribs before his mouth encountered the long slender cock, rising to meet it, and with a moan he sucked it deep, taking it fully into his throat and relishing the deep groan of pleasure that reached his ears.

His taste was different but it was still sweet and Sav was greedy for it, sucking and licking, curling his tongue round the head before sliding his lips down the shaft, keeping them tight as he fluttered his tongue along the underside, feeling Steve' hips beginning to thrust to meet each downward spiral of his mouth.  He cupped Steve's balls, rolling them gently, giving them a light squeeze and chuckling when Steve yelped and pulled his hair.  He would have stayed there, content with giving him pleasure if that was all he could have, so when a particularly hard yank of his hair made him lift his head he scowled upwards at Steve.

Steve didn't say anything, he simply got up on his knees and Sav almost forgot how to breathe.  He scrambled onto his elbows and knees, grabbing a pillow and laying his face on it, turning his head to be able to still see Steve.  “Spit on your fingers and use them first,” he explained.

“Yeah I've done this before.  With a bird but I think it's the same,” Steve said, a faint smile on his face.

Sav nodded.  “It is.”  He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax when he heard Steve spit into his hand.  He hissed, his back arching when he felt Steve smear the wetness over his hole.  The press of a fingertip and he took a deep breath and bore down, opening himself, shuddering when the tip and then more of the length pushed inside.  He wanted so badly to see Steve's face but he was afraid if he asked to turn onto his back it would break whatever spell this was and the chance would be lost, so he did his best to imagine it – the intensity in his eyes, the way his hair would frame his face, the....

“Turn over.”

He thought he had imagined it and when Steve's finger left him he moaned in disappointment.  

“Sav, turn over.”

He flipped onto his back, still afraid to speak and ruin it all.  Instead, he grasped the backs of his thighs and drew his knees to his chest, his eyes intent on Steve's face as he moved between his legs and once more wet his fingers, this time working two inside, his brow furrowed in concentration as he slowly moved them in and out, stretching Sav, readying him for the hard cock that brushed the curve of his arse.

“Steve, please....” Sav breathed, his teeth bared as he tried to think about something other than the long, flexing fingers inside him.  He hissed when they were removed a bit too fast but then the head of Steve's cock was there and he forgot about the slight burn and instead welcomed the stronger pain of his entry but it was a good pain and he tipped his head back, his drawn out groan not one of suffering but instead of pleasure.  Again, the entry was too fast but Sav didn't care, he didn't care if he couldn't sit for a month, and he let go of his legs and wrapped them round Steve's slender – too slender – hips and met his first eager and somewhat clumsy thrust and it was finally real, Steve was inside him and it was good and he lifted his head to find Steve's lips and he was lost and he was going mad and it was everything he had hoped and in fact more and....

He wanted it to last forever.

He wanted the rest of his life to be this way, to be this moment.

When he felt Steve come inside him it brought about his own release but there was a bittersweetness to it because he knew it was ending, that it was done.

When Steve pulled out of him and got up from the bed he wanted to cry.

“Not near as good as pussy.  Do me a favor and get out before I come back.”

That was the last thing Steve said to him before slamming the door.  Sav heard the shower turn on and rolled to the edge of the bed, sitting up and swinging his legs over, his heart feeling as if it was shattered in his chest.  He slowly got to his feet and silently dressed, unaware of the tears that were running down his cheeks.  He stood for a moment, wanting to fling open the door and demand Steve talk to him, to look at him, but he couldn't, he couldn't bear to feel any more pain.

He left, quietly closing the door behind him.

In the shower, the tears were easy to hide.  Steve rested his head against the tile, letting them fall.  “Goodbye Sav,” he whispered.  

~***~

They were finally gone, and as he made his way to his destination he shivered, the approaching darkness lowering the temperature even more.  He stopped, looking down at the stone.  “Happy birthday,” Sav said, easing down to one knee and taking the small crystal angel from the pocket of his coat.  He placed it at the foot of the stone, letting his fingers brush the surface.  “I love you, Steve.”

The wind picked up, swirling round him, and although he knew it was only his imagination he thought he heard a whisper in return.  Still, he was reluctant to leave in case there was more to be said, and as the night crept in he ignored the cold and the hardness of the ground to spend some time with the man who would forever remain alive in his heart.