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He watched the show every night. Without fail. He watched him laugh and make others laugh. Some days he sang on the show, sometimes he even danced. Those were the episodes that were hard to watch, the ones where he couldn't make the distinction between the man on his television and the man who haunted his memories.
It had been so much easier before, back when Stephen played a character. It made it easy to separate the man loudly proclaiming his love for America on screen from the man who had held him with arms that were so warm and loving that he had lost himself within their safe embrace for hours.
Now, Jon's heart skipped a beat every time Stephen smiled on screen, because that was the same smile he had worn whenever they met in the late hours of the night. His chest tightened whenever he heard Stephen sing, because he could still remember that deep voice singing to him, and sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could still hear that warm laugh echoing through his apartment.
Then Jon would open his eyes and the deep laugh would fade away, instantly replaced by giggling children and a woman's voice.
They had both known it wasn't going to last. They had never had a future. Their relationship was never going to move beyond stolen nights at their apartment, or a quick romp in their office. They were both married, they had kids. They both loved their wives and their children.
Their relationship was a mistake. They both knew it.
But they hadn't cared.
Looking back on it now, Jon could still feel a surge of adrenaline pump through his veins as he remembered the kisses they had risked, the heavy stares, the burning touches. If he tried hard enough, he could still remember the taste of Stephen's lips, the heat of his skin, the exquisite feeling of being filled by Stephen.
Some nights Jon woke up with his skin itching to be touched, to be worshipped by those hands. Those nights were the hardest. Every time he got through them without giving in and picking up the phone or his car keys, he considered it a win.
Jon learned to ignore how he hated winning.
Sometimes Jon liked thinking that he'd gotten over it. That he was over Stephen. That he was happy with his wife and children- that they gave him joy. That there was nothing else in the world that could make him happier.
But then he'd remember being chased through his old apartment, and he'd remember curling up into the taller body next to his as they watched a movie, and he'd remember waking up to tousled brown hair and sleepy brown eyes that smiled at him, and the illusion would come crashing down.
How could it sustain when he could still remember what it felt like to be swept off his feet, and laughing as he stared into sparkling brown eyes behind rimless glasses and was smothered with soft kisses?
He loved his wife. He loved his children. They gave him great joy.
But that joy was always incomplete. It always felt like a perfect dish that was missing something so significant that it prevented you from enjoying it, but still left the dish good enough to eat without complaint.
He was the one who had ended it.
That was the thing that haunted him the most. Jon had ended it.
They had been happy, in love. Nobody suspected anything. Their wives were happy, their children were happy. He had felt true joy.
Then he ended it.
Some nights when he sat alone in his office, Jon couldn't understand why he'd done it.
Some nights he wondered why he hadn't ended it before they had fallen so deeply in love.
It was an unspoken understanding between them, that when the time came, Jon would be the one to end it. He was older, wiser and less willing to take risks. They had agreed that they would part ways when Jon thought it was time.
But when he remembered the sharp pain that had flashed through dark eyes when Jon had broken it off, he couldn't remember why it had been a good idea.
Nothing had changed, he had given Stephen no warning at all. There had been no big fight, no suspicious wives or accusing stares. Nothing.
Jon had just told the taller man one afternoon over lunch that they were done and then sat in silence as they silently finished their food.
To his credit, Stephen never said a word of protest, silently nodding after a tense moment.
Sometimes Jon wished he had.
Staring at the tv screen with his wife curled up against him and their children safely in bed, Jon watched Stephen make his guest laugh. Stephen had a mischievous smile on his handsome face and Jon vividly remembered what that smile had once led to in the privacy of his apartment.
Next to him, Tracey laughed as well. Stephen's joy was infectious.
Jon sometimes wondered how much of it was faked.
The months after his decision hadn't been easy. Jon had to remind himself not to take the turn to Stephen's apartment, and not to expect to wake up held securely in long arms.
He avoided Stephen as much as he could, convincing himself it was necessary for them both. After his first few failed attempts, Stephen stopped trying to convince him otherwise.
For his part, Jon pretended not to notice how miserable Stephen looked sometimes when nobody was watching, and then he pretended he wasn't noticing Stephen at all. He didn't show up at the Emmy's and when he saw the clip of Stephen kissing Evie before getting up to take his Emmy, Jon told himself that his heart wasn't hurting and that he was happy for Stephen. . And Evie.
At the Christmas party, he stuck by Tracey and resolutely didn't look at where Stephen was grinning as he danced with a laughing Evie. If she noticed that he refused to go anywhere near Stephen and Evie after greeting them, Tracey didn't say anything.
Eventually, they went back to the relationship they had had before they started sleeping with each other. Despite his worries, Stephen never pushed for more. Jon still couldn't decide if he was grateful for it or not.
Their affection for each other was in no way diminished, but they were more restrained now. Their hugs were shorter, their kisses fleeting. They still held hands, but it was a brief entangling of fingers, instead of the warm grip they used to share. In many ways things remained the same, but the intimacy they used to share was more guarded now, more cautious.
Still, sometimes when they walked together, Stephen dropped his hand to Jon's back, and sometimes Jon stood close to him, clutching his arm and taking comfort from Stephen's steady presence. They never mentioned it.
Jon saw an awareness in Evie's eyes one time when she saw them together, and realized that she knew. She caught him alone some time later and for a moment they just stared at each other in silence.
"I'm sorry." He finally muttered, breaking eye contact. And he really was. Stephen loved Evie and she loved him and then Jon had messed it all up.
"Don't be." Evie had said her eyes warm and sorrowful. "Please. Don't be. You made him very happy."
Jon wasn't ashamed to admit that he had cried then. Faced with her open acceptance he had teared up and she had hugged him.
"Evie?" Stephen's voice called from somewhere and they turned.
"Thank you." Evie whispered to him, squeezing his hand before moving to her find her husband.
Watching her go, he realized that he was glad that she was who he had lost Stephen to. She would love and cherish him at least as much as Jon did. Had.
He was glad.
As he hugged Stephen in front of a roaring audience and live cameras, Jon took a moment to savor the feel of him. He felt Stephen do the same before pulling back.
As their eyes met, for a split second Jon let himself remember what loving Stephen had been like.
Then they turned back to the audience, bright smiles plastered on their faces as they finished the segment.
"Jon Stewart everybody!!" Stephen yelled, his love for Jon still evident in his voice as the audience roared in response.
Jon smiled and grasped Stephen's hand and reflected- as long fingers tightened around his hand, and the audience screamed their names in tandem -that perhaps things would still be okay.
"Get back here Stewart!! That bacon is mine!!!" Stephen yelled, half laughing as he chased a giggling Jon across the room.
"Ha! Catch me if you can Colbert!" Jon gasped and shoved the bacon into his mouth moments before Stephen tackled him to the ground. They rolled around laughing breathlessly until Stephen finally pinned Jon down.
"Dammit Jon it wasn't even kosher!!" Stephen whined.
"Who cares when it tastes so good?" Jon laughed, licking his lips.
Stephen's eyes turned predatory. "Does it now?"
"Mmhmmm. . . So goo-" whatever Jon was about to say was cut off as Stephen captured his lips.
"I love you Jon Stewart." Stephen whispered breathlessly as they separated and he pressed his forehead to Jon's.
Jon felt his breath catch in his throat and surged up to kiss Stephen, to show him just how much he loved him.
Moments later, Stephen was carrying him to the bedroom.
Jon awoke to a warm arm draped across his waist and a warm body pressed against his back. Turning his head slightly, he saw Stephen's face relaxed in sleep, and his tousled brown hair and smiled. Pressing a soft kiss to Stephen's cheek, he turned and went back to sleep.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. . You make me happy when skies are grey . . . You'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away. . " Stephen deep voice crooned into Jon's ear as they swayed.
Jon shut his eyes, trying to burn this moment into his mind forever. They were dancing, barefoot in Stephen's apartment and Johnny Cash was playing in the background, though Jon payed no attention to him. He was listening to Stephen.
Jon buried his face into Stephen's shoulder, and just for that one moment, he allowed himself to forget and think of nothing but Stephen and how much he loved him.
He let himself imagine a future for them.
Together.