Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s a little square in a corner of London, one that only means something to the people that live there. To passers-by it’s a fairly inconspicuous place- a little square of houses with a market that’s thriving most days and a pub in the corner that seems to always be hosting some sort of drunken fight (and honestly, it’s a pub in the middle of London, so it’s not exactly a surprise). There’s a couple more restaurants around the corner, and a shop or two that seems to sell everything you could ever need, except for the exact thing that you go in for. It’s a weird little place and it’s nothing to anyone who passes through, but if you’re there long enough for a pint, you’ll leave three pints worse off but with at least a couple new friends.  

Callum’s got friends around here too, of course. It’s a place he’s known since he was a kid and most of it hasn’t changed - he can still map out most of it with his eyes closed, and can still name most of the residents and where they live and the names of their cats. There are parts of it that have changed, though. For one, he’s no longer living under the suffocating view of his father. The man’s spirit still lingers, still whispers it’s vitriol in Callum’s ears when he lets his guard down but he finds it’s somewhat easier to handle these days. He’s regrouped, fallen apart and reformed new in the time between his childhood and now, and that’s come with the family he has now - the one with no need for blood relation, the one that was always stood there waiting for him to be ready, even when he was a scared little boy from around the corner. 

Callum’s changed a little since then, but they haven’t. People around here don’t change, in Callum’s experience. A few have tried- desperate, perhaps, to prove that they were more than the small town they came from but almost all of them have since come back, drawn in by the comfort and familiarity of it. 

Callum had tried to get away too, after the falling apart but before the reforming, when the ghost of his father was all-powerful. He’d tried desperately to become something else, to move as far away from this place as he could because he’d thought that that’s what he wanted. He’d thought the familiarity of the place was painful, a reminder of what he couldn’t have or didn’t deserve, but he’d later figured there was comfort in that familiarity too, one that’s not quite so burdened with memories of smashing glass and a heavy fist. There were memories of a second home in the square, of a smiling man that used to ruffle his hair every time he came around for tea- a man that’s never bothered to leave this place since he arrived, which is comforting. Memories of weekends spent under the summer sun and the inevitable summer rain with Lee, who was just about his only friend. 

They’re blissful, indulgent memories, and he still allows himself to think about them from time to time. It’s a lifetime ago now though, and he’s not that kid any more- whether that’s for better or for worse. 

Callum still hangs on to a lot of that feeling though. That’s probably why he’s still here, running a bookshop that gets maybe a single customer every week. It’s an odd little place - an odd little life - but it’s his own, and he’s made it for himself, and that’s something he can be proud of. 

That doesn’t make his double bed feel any less lonely, though. It’s a bed that’s been there since he’d moved in, one that he’d told himself he would replace on multiple occasions but never has and suddenly it’s been six years and he’s still sleeping in it. Maybe it means something- maybe it’s something about the fact that, no matter how perfect a place Walford can feel sometimes, it still feels as though he’s living a sort of half life. Half new, half hanging onto the past for dear life, ripping any shred of comfort from it that he can.

Although maybe, it’s just a bed. And it’s too damn early. 

The sunlight trickles through the gaps in the curtains, and that’s a rare occurrence on it’s own- sunlight in London. It falls across the room, casting little shadows onto everything and almost cutting the room into sections with a golden glow. There’s one in particular that cuts right through where his hand lays, just away from his side of the bed, just onto the other. It cuts right through his hand, catching on the fourth finger particularly and that on it’s own feels like a sign of something, if he had any faith in any of that after all these years. 

The way it cuts through, though- it does remind him of something. Namely, someone, and the day she’d almost slipped a silver ring onto that finger. The day he’d realised that he couldn’t be bothered to pretend any more, had to get out before it killed him. 

It’s his own fault that there isn’t a ring on that finger. Well, not his own fault that he’s gay, but his own fault that he’d even been in that position in the first place, where he’d slipped so deep that everything around him seemed dark, and escape was just a random shot and blind hope that he’d done the right thing. It doesn’t stop him feeling lonely though, when the sunlight cuts through his hand, lighting up the side of the bed that’s so painfully empty. 

It leaves Callum wishing, not for the first time but probably for the thousandth, that things could have been different for them. That he wasn’t like this, that he didn’t have all this mess in his head. That he wasn’t gay, maybe, because he knows that would make his life a whole lot easier. But no amount of wishing is going to make it true, and he knows that. He’s longing for a life that was never his, instead of dreaming of the life that he could have if he’d just let himself. The life of having a man laid here beside him, sleep in his eyes and tiredness in his voice, curling up to him and begging him not to go because it’s too warm, too early, I wanna go back to sleep . In quiet moments like these, he lets himself dream about that life- allows himself to imagine what it would actually be like. Maybe he’ll have it one day, and maybe it’ll stop feeling so much like he’s a character in someone else’s story. 

Until then, though, nothing’s going to be solved by resigning himself to his own mind and his warm bed for the rest of the day. 

Callum drags himself out of bed, and back into the cycle of it- a blissful, lonely, content cycle. 

By the time he makes it down to the shop Lee’s already down there, sipping at what looks suspiciously like his second cup of coffee of the day.

“Morning!” he calls, slamming his coffee down on the counter he's sat on with what’s probably a little too much force. “Right, you’ll never guess what happened to me last night-” 

(Callum’s relatively certain he could, since Lee tells a similar story most days - about the bar that he went to last night, and the beautiful girl that he found who’s the love of his life, whose name starts with an S, probably . He can’t complain, really- it all kind of fits into this beautiful monotony, and the stories make him smile anyway. It's nice living vicariously through someone else.)

“I’m telling ya mate, she was proper beautiful. Like, fashion model beautiful, ya know?” Lee says, voice enthusiastic. “Great night, it was.” 

Callum nods, trying desperately not to let the smile on his face show just yet. “I’m sure she was. What was her name again?” 

It sends Lee to silence for at least a minute where he looks more like he’s trying to take a shit than remember a name, and Callum’s basically given up until he shouts “Lindsay!” with alarming enthusiasm. 

Callum raises an eyebrow. 

“I think,” Lee adds, and Callum can’t help but laugh, watching the other man’s face turn into something mildly affronted out of the corner of his eye while he sorts the documents in front of him. 

“Alright, alright, Mr Judgy. Ain’t like you’re a whiz at the romance shit either, are ya?” 

For some reason, it burns a little but he tries desperately not to let it show. “I’m happily single, thank you very much.” 

“Bullshit,” Lee adds, taking another loud sip of his coffee. “What you sorting?” 

“Accounts,” Callum sighs and Lee nods slowly, awkward look on his face. 

“Right,” he says, fiddling with his coffee cup. “I assume it ain’t looking too much better than last month?” 

Callum doesn’t say anything but he probably doesn’t need to, given the look on Lee’s face. 

“Tea?” Lee says eventually, jumping off the counter and venturing towards the door. “Hey, I’ll even grab a pastry or two. My treat.” 

“Get me an orange juice, will you?” Callum calls and Lee nods. “Cheers mate.” 

Lee turns back to him with a little smile, then turns back and throws the door open, the little bell above chiming as he leaves.

When it chimes again a couple minutes later, Callum’s expecting it just to be Lee. When he looks up, it decidedly- isn’t. 

The man that’s stood there is maybe a head shorter than him, in a brown leather jacket and sunglasses that should probably look ridiculous, but seem to somehow fit his face. His black jeans are- probably something he shouldn’t notice about a customer, but Callum's only human. There’s no question about it- the man is beautiful. 

Callum’s not sure he’s ever called a man that before- maybe handsome, or sexy if Lee’s gotten him a bit drunk in one of the clubs in Camden, but he’s never really thought about beautiful before. It always feels like too much, too significant, because beautiful had been what he’d called Whitney. 

It doesn’t feel like beautiful is something for strangers, but the man that’s stood in front of him- maybe he’s the exception, because there’s no other word for the way he stands there. 

“Can I, uh- can I help you with anything?” he calls out to the man- partly because it’s the same old spiel, but partly out of a purely selfish need to just know what this man sounds like. He turns towards Callum, and his face feels familiar, sparking something in the back of his mind. He can’t quite place it though so he pushes it back, determined not to somehow screw this up. 

The man offers him a little smile that’s more like a smirk than anything and he vehemently ignores exactly what that does to him, then slips off his sunglasses. “I’m good, mate.” 

Something snaps into place in his mind and suddenly- it’s Ben Mitchell.  

The only man he’s ever called beautiful somehow is suddenly Ben Mitchell, and he’s never been more glad that he’s an absolute terrible flirt and that he never would have said any of that out loud. Because fuck, it’s Ben Mitchell. Ben Mitchell, who's been in just about every film Lee's seen or talked about for most of his adult life. Ben Mitchell, who Callum apparently recognises from the massive poster that's just turned up on one of the billboards just outside of the square. Ben Mitchell, who is ridiculously hot and stood in Callum's shop. 

From that moment all rational and coherent thought just seems to skip out of his mind and it’s just- fuck, he’s done for. 

“You, uh, interested in a romance?” Callum says, eyes tracking over the stack of books that the other man is standing in front of. Startlingly blue eyes track back to him (and God, the cameras don’t do them justice because the only thing he wants right now is to pause and be able to just get lost in them) and they’re accompanied by a smirk. 

“Nah, I’m more for a one-time-thing,” he says. “But thanks for the offer.” 

The meaning clicks in his head in a second and he’s such an idiot, and why today of all days?

“Oh! No- no, no that’s- that’s not what I meant,” he stutters, and Callum can feel the way this blush climbs across his face and all the way up to the tips of his ears. It makes him look like a fool in a way that he hates, but Ben’s eyes fall over him for what feels like a little too long and it makes something burn in his chest. “I just- the books. The romance section. You- uh, anything I can do to help?” 

“You’re alright, honestly,” Ben replies, an eyebrow raising even as his eyes fall back to the books in front of him. “More than happy to admire the view.” 

God , Lee would have a field day if he were here. 

“Right- right, yeah. The books. There’s- I love, uh, the covers of some of them- really good cover art,” Callum says until Ben looks back at him and he realises he’s still talking. 

“Wow, you’re a really great salesman,” Ben replies, voice dry with sarcasm. 

The blush on his cheeks only intensifies. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t mind a bit of commentary to my browsing,” Ben shrugs. “You got any recommendations?” 

“Oh! Well, that depends on what you’re into, really,” he starts and Ben’s eyebrow rises again. “I- I mean- story wise. We’ve- we’ve got some queer romance, if- if that’s what you’re interested in.” 

“Anything a bit more,” he pauses, then leans forward like it’s a secret. Callum’s the fool, because he actually leans in. “Entertaining, if you know what I mean?” 

Callum’s eyes widen again. “Uh, well we ain’t…” 

He’s clearly the butt of a joke again but it doesn’t feel cruel in the way that it usually does, or like he’s missing out on something. It makes him feel stupidly special, having Ben Mitchell watch him like this- having the man stand in front of him and not walk away instantly. 

“Keep your hair on, sweetheart, I’m only kidding,” he replies and the way that sweetheart falls so effortlessly out of his mouth does something it probably shouldn’t. The word sinks in, settles somewhere deep inside Callum and he brings it in, holds onto it. Whatever happens here, the thought of sweetheart will always ring in his head. It’s a nice feeling, one that gives him something like hope. 

“Right, right, yeah,” Callum replies. “Well, there’s- there should be something for everyone. Of course, not for people who aren’t interested in romance, obviously. Or- well, for people who aren’t interested in that kind of romance- yeah.” 

Ben’s eyes stay on the bookcase this time but a smirk stays plastered across his face, and it feels like he’s only pretending to look at what’s in front of him. Even when Callum turns back to the documents that lay all across the table in front of him it feels like there’s eyes on him, and he almost wants to squirm under the attention. It’s something that he’s not felt in so long, and it’s weird but somehow the last thing he wants is for Ben to stop.

“You run this place then?” Ben asks, still staring at the bookcase in front of him. His eyes flicker back every so often though and it leaves Callum feeling seen, which is an unusual feeling. 

“Uh- yeah, yeah. My mate helps me out sometimes, but he’s just gone out for drinks,” he replies. The thought stands there for a second, that maybe if he were a more confident man he’d extend the offer to Ben, too, call Lee and tell him to pick up something extra. But he’s not. At the end of the day, he’s just Callum. 

Ben nods a little, and moves back to the bookshelf. They stand there in silence for a little while, and the radio plays quietly. It doesn't feel as awkward as perhaps it should, being in the quiet presence of the other man. Callum tries to make himself look busy, shuffles some papers around on the desk but all of this is too important to really be doing when he’s distracted like this. Trust him to get distracted by the first pretty man that walks in here. 

“This one any good?” Ben calls. He holds up a book to Callum, the cover towards him. 

“Uh- I actually haven’t read that one myself,” he replies, because of course he’d choose one of the only books on that shelf Callum hasn’t read. “Apparently it’s got a sad ending. I’m not great with sad endings, me.” 

“Oh yeah?” Ben says, and that smirk is back and oh fuck . “You one of those peace and love types, you know, everyone's got someone ?” 

“Hopeless optimist, my mate says,” Callum replies. “Surely it ain’t so wrong to think that everyone’s got a happy ending waiting for them?” 

Ben’s face changes for a second, so fast that it’s almost imperceptible but Callum’s always been good at reading people. He looks sad for a second, angry and scared maybe, like there’s something in Callum’s words that tugs at something in his mind. It makes him wonder what Ben’s really like, behind all the celebrity and the interviews, when he lets his guard down. It’s a stupid thought, really- him and Ben are nothing but passing coincidences. Ben is a story to Callum, one that he should go home and call Linda about, with an overly dramatic you’ll never guess who came into the shop earlier! He’s even less than that to Ben- merely a man in a bookshop that stares too much and hasn’t read the books he sells. It’s a coincidence that they even met -  a beautiful one, for Callum at least, but a coincidence all the same. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Ben says after a minute, and that smirk is back in place as if the slip never happened. Maybe it never did, maybe Callum’s reading too much into it. He looks down at the book in his hands, then walks over to the counter. “Think I’ll have this one though, if it’s all the same to you. I ain’t so much the optimist.” 

“Oh! Of course, yeah,” Callum replies, shuffling the papers across the desk. Most of them fall on the floor when he does because that’s exactly just his luck. Ben lets out a little laugh and it’s better than the music that plays on the radio, and it definitely contributes to the blush that burns up his face. “Sorry about that.”

Ben shakes his head a little, puts the book he’d been holding on the counter and leans down to pick up the papers that fell around his feet. He sorts them into a little pile in his hands, then glances down. The figures for their intake last month are scrawled on the bottom in red ink, and Callum’s sure there’s a flash of something like sympathy across his face. 

“Ain’t much call for a bookshop ‘round here these days,” Callum laughs, taking the papers from Ben’s hands. 

“Well I think it’s nice,” he replies. Callum looks up, ready for the joke in his eyes but only finds honesty, truth. “And it ain’t just the company. Although that probably helps.” 

“Thank you,” Callum says, and his voice probably betrays how much the words send a spark of hope through him. It’s nice to think that maybe someone likes this place as much as he does, regardless of how much of a failure it is, really. 

“‘Course,” Ben replies, and slips his wallet out of his pocket. 

Callum rings the book through, slipping it into a little bag and handing it over when Ben slides the money over the desk. “There you go, I hope you enjoy it.” 

“Thank you…” Ben says, then trails off. His eyebrows shift up expectantly after a minute, and it’s only then that it clicks in Callum’s head what the other man is waiting for.

“Callum! My name’s- I’m Callum.” 

“Well,” Ben smiles. “It’s been nice, Callum.” 

It shouldn’t do, but the way Ben says his name sends this gorgeous shiver down Callum’s spine, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. 

“It has. It’s, uh-  it’s great to meet you,” he replies, and it only clicks when Ben laughs a little just how much of a fanboy that makes him sound. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” Ben says, then tugs open the door, the little bell chiming as he walks through it. 

They won’t see each other around, but the thought is so nice that it leaves this glorious kind of haze, like a daydream- because what if?

What if they could meet again, talk a little longer? What if they could be more to each other than a chance meeting in a bookshop? What if they could be something beautiful, something befitting the way Callum's chest sparks and starts with this giddy happiness he's not felt in so long?

He’s brought out of it when the bell chimes again. Stupidly, there’s some part of Callum that maybe expects Ben to be there, to be watching him with that smirk again. He’s not, of course, because life isn’t that kind to him. Instead it’s Lee, holding a takeaway cup and a paper bag. 

“Alright mate?” he calls. “I got one of the chocolate ones and one of those ones with raisins you like.” 

“That’s- that sounds great,” Callum says. The haze still hangs, and he’s still left wondering if all that really happened. “Hey- you’ll never guess who just came in here.” 

Callum smiles when Lee looks up confused, but he regrets the words as soon as they process in his mind. Because the minute he tells the story it isn’t his any more. It’s not something that belongs only to him- it’s not a moment of clarity, of hope and happiness. It’s a story to be passed around of guess who I met like Ben’s some commodity. Whatever the last ten minutes was, he knows it deserves so much more than that. 

Whatever it was, he wants it to belong to only him, so he shakes his head instead. “No one- doesn’t matter.” 

Lee shrugs, then looks down at his hands confused. “Shit! Forgot your juice.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll go get it,” Callum replies. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, you just keep an eye out for a minute, yeah? And don’t eat my pastry,” Callum says, and Lee laughs. 

“Excuse me, I wouldn’t dare! Know how protective you are of your pastries, mate.”

The way the sunlight gleams down from an almost clear sky solidifies this feeling of a dream. Callum's almost convinced that he's going to open his eyes in a minute and find his flat again, just like he did at the beginning of the morning. He almost stops, right in the middle of the street just to do it, just to check that this isn't some sort of weird fantasy - Ben Mitchell hadn't been flirting with him. He hadn't walked into Callum's quiet little bookshop on the corner of Albert Square, and he hadn't walked out with a book that Callum hasn't actually read. 

He hadn't left Callum dreaming of something else, of the possibility of more. 

He forces himself not to stop, though - whether that's because he's not quite sure he wants to face reality yet, or because he doesn't want to stop randomly in the middle of the street, he's not sure. 

In a matter of minutes he makes it over to Kathy's, the homely little cafe on the other side of the square with a woman behind the counter who definitely thinks too much of him. She's always got a smile and a kind word - and sometimes an extra pastry or piece of cake - for him, and that's the thing that keeps him coming back. It's one of the things that keeps him around here, really - the feeling of community, of home that comes with the people around this little square. It's a simple place where everyone seems to know each other, and that simplicity is something that Callum sinks into, revels in. 

The little bell above the door chimes as he walks in, and it's a welcome little sound. The place isn't too busy for this time in the morning, just a rather stressed looking teenager nursing a large mug, hunched over a laptop in one corner, and an old man in the other, watching out the window with a content smile on his face. Kathy is sitting on one of the tables right near the counter, a magazine in her hands that says something about a cream that apparently takes years off you. 

"Don't think you're quite in need of that yet, Mrs B," Callum says and the ease of it sinks in like something warm coursing through his veins. She looks up at the sound of his voice and a smile creeps onto her face as she stands up. 

"Callum! You are a charmer, aren't you?" she laughs. "Good to see you." 

"And you, Mrs B," he replies. She gives him a raised eyebrow and he laughs a little at the familiarity of it. "Kathy. Sorry." 

She smiles at the correction even though they both know it's meaningless, because he'll be back here in a couple of days doing the exact same thing over again. "What can I get you, sweetheart?" 

"Just an orange juice, please," he replies. "Sent Lee over to get me one but he forgot."

Kathy rolls her eyes and grabs a takeaway cup from the side. "Of course he did. I did wonder when he came in earlier, I should have sent him with one anyway." 

She slides the cup along the counter and Callum takes a note out of his wallet, before she shakes her head. 

"No need," she says, like she does every time. "Call it an apology on Lee's behalf." 

Callum laughs and drops the note into the tip jar instead, like he does every time. "Thanks. Have a good day, Mrs B." 

She sighs, and gives him a fond smile. "You too, Callum." 

He's still riding this wave of giddy familiarity when he makes it out of the cafe and back into the street, where an unusual sun shines down on him. It feels a little out of place for this time of year, especially in London, and it makes the air burn with something, but maybe that's just Callum. 

He's still thinking about it, and about how he might take a journey down to the park later when he collides with a heavy body. 

"Shit!" someone says, and he's not sure if it's him. Orange juice spills out over his hand and when he looks down, there's only a tiny bit left in there. Which means-

He looks up to see a rather disgruntled Ben Mitchell, covered in his orange juice. 

"Shit!" he says, and this time it definitely is him. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I wasn't-" 

"Weren't looking? Yeah, I guessed that, mate," Ben says, and the little growl in his voice really shouldn't send the spark through him that it does.

"I'm so sorry," he says again. "Here, can I- can I get you cleaned up? My flat is just across the road, you can change, or- or shower, or whatever-" 

"Well I'm hardly gonna start stripping in the street, am I?" Ben says, then catches Callum's eye. "Ain't gonna give you the satisfaction."

Callum feels the way a blush starts to climb across his cheeks, lighting up the tips of his ears in glowing pink. He's about to rush to defend, to explain himself until the little smirk that's edging onto Ben's face finally clicks. "Right. Yeah, okay- uh, my place is just right around the corner." 

By this point, Callum's come to the conclusion that this is all just an incredibly weird, slightly surreal dream- although he's not entirely sure that his mind could come up with something quite like this. 

He leads Ben back through the door of his flat, and in a moment everything that he hates about the place feels like a glaring issue. It's ridiculous, because the last thing that Ben's going to be looking at is the state of his kitchen. But his mind cycles into overtime anyway, as it always does, thinking about everything the other man could call him out for. He watches for any reaction as Ben steps over the threshold but all he does is keep on with that easy smirk. 

"Nice place," Ben says. "Bathroom?" 

"Oh! Uh- yeah, just- first on the left," he replies. 

Ben offers him another easy smile, one that sends another shiver down his spine, and turns in the direction of the bathroom. 

The second the lock clicks into place, a breath Callum hadn't realised he'd been holding falls out into the empty room. He darts his eyes around and it's like everything's glaring back at him again. It's not as if he's trying to impress Ben, as such (although it takes more than it should to convince himself of that), it's just the fact that there's a man in his flat that's so out of place, he makes everything else feel out of place too. It's like everything has shifted, and now everything is wrong.

It's hopeless, but he takes a couple of the plates he hadn't cleaned yet and throws them in the sink, covering them with a tea towel as if that makes it any better. A bottle goes back into the fridge, and a couple of packets left around get thrown in the bin. Callum's just checking his teeth in the reflection of the microwave when the lock clicks again. He turns around, and Ben's stood there once again, except-

Except now he’s wearing a t-shirt that pulls tight across his chest, sitting stark white underneath his leather jacket from earlier. He takes up the room with this confidence that runs into the air around him and it’s intoxicating, and Callum just wants to be closer-

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he says, and the nickname from earlier runs something hot right through him. Callum’s desperate for it not to show on his face but evidently that’s not enough, if the laugh that falls from Ben’s lips is anything to go by. “God, you’re cute when you blush an’ all.” 

And the way that makes him feel is something to think about later. Preferably alone, where he can make less of an idiot of himself. 

“Sorry- uh, sorry again. About earlier,” Callum replies, and tries to ignore the way that Ben’s eyes on him make his voice shake. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Nah, you’re alright, mate,” Ben says, offering Callum another little smirk, before he pulls a pair of sunglasses out from his bag. He slides them onto his face and oh God it just keeps getting worse. Or better- Callum’s not sure. “Nice to meet you again.” 

“Definitely,” he says, perhaps a little too fast. “I mean- yeah, it was nice. A little surreal, but- nice.” 

And oh, if Callum could just sink right into the ground here, that would be perfect.

Ben raises his eyebrows at him over his sunglasses, and hides a laugh behind a bit lip. 

“Sorry,” Callum says. "I'll- uh, I'll let you go then." 

Ben takes a few steps closer and looks him over, and Callum can't help but squirm a little under the attention. It's odd, something he's not had in a while- it feels like being seen, truly. Maybe that's terrifying, especially if it's Ben, a man he's only just really met. Maybe it's also not, in some strange way. 

He steps even closer and there's inches between them. All the breath leaves Callum's chest and God, this is a dream. 

Somehow, for some strange reason - maybe because the universe just loves fucking with him - Ben kisses him. 

And oh . 

The kiss is- well, it's just that, but it still sends shivers down Callum's spine like nothing has in a long time. It feels like so much and not enough all at once and Callum has to actually physically stop himself from reaching out, because all that he wants to do right now is bury his hands in Ben's hair, pull him forward by the lapels of his jacket and kiss him properly. Callum wants to shove him backwards into the wall, breathe him in deep and just kiss like they've known each other a lot longer than an hour. 

But he doesn't. That all plays out inside his head, a deep fantasy but all he does in real life is let himself be kissed, because he's not entirely sure what he's allowed to do. 

Somehow, even though in the moment that kiss had felt like forever, Ben pulls away and it's too soon. 

Their eyes connect and it feels electric, and for a moment it feels as though Ben could be about to lean back in, kiss him properly like his head wants. He doesn't, of course. Instead that little smirk from earlier creeps back onto Ben's face and there's mischief in his eyes that does more than it should to Callum. 

"See you around, Cal," Ben says, his voice gravelly and a little hoarse. His eyes flicker down to Callum's lips for maybe a second, before he turns back around. 

The door shuts behind him, and Callum still hasn't moved. God, he's fucked. 

Eventually, Callum comes to the conclusion that there's something wrong with him. 

It's three days later and it feels as though there's part of Callum stuck in that moment- still revelling in the way Ben's lips felt, and how it was to be kissed like that again. It's stupid, but he finds himself daydreaming about seeing the other man again, about him just turning up at Callum's door or in the shop again. He wonders what it would be like, how Ben would react- would they speak, would Callum really have anything to say? Or would they just be , like last time? Would they just kiss, and would it be just as perfect as before? Would it fade to nothing again, end in just a kiss or would it be more- would they be more? 

It's a stupid fantasy but a dream like that revels in a quiet day on his own in the shop, where he can let his mind wander without issue. 

Lee notices on the third day, when he's finished stacking up books and finds Callum dawdling behind the counter, watching the door. 

"You know it's never gonna open if you watch it like that," he says, and the sound of someone else startles Callum out of his own mind. "Like all that watched pot stuff." 

Callum falters, confused for a second. "Oh- right, yeah." 

"What, you waiting for someone?" he says. 

"Who have I got to be waiting for?" Callum replies and it's a joke at first, until he realises the sentence is a lot sadder than he meant it. Lee's face drops a little and it sends this shot of guilt through him. "Don't need anyone else anyway, do I? Not when I've got you around annoying the shit out of me." 

"Oi!" Lee shouts, indignant but there's a poorly hidden smile on his face that tells Callum he's gotten away with it. Callum laughs and it feels true, for the first time in a while. If nothing else, at least there's Lee around to make him feel a little as though he's not alone. 

Before the other man can respond, the phone just to his side rings, shrill in the quiet of the shop. 

"Saved by the bell, yeah?" Lee says and shakes his head, disappearing into the backroom again. 

Callum picks up the phone with a smile, watching him leave. "Hi there! Albert Square bookshop, Callum speaking." 

"God, you really are salesman of the year, ain't you? Even got an exemplary customer service voice. Always use that on the men, do you?" 

And oh, just the sound of his voice throws him back three days, right back to standing in the door of his flat and feeling those lips against his own. It sounds like a fantasy, like Callum could only be dreaming because this isn't how things go for him. He doesn't get kisses from beautiful men, or the rom-com story. He doesn't get the fairytale, and it feels like that's precisely what this is. 

"Uh, hi!" Callum says, unsure. "It's, uh- good to hear from you again. Can I help you with anything?" 

(God, it feels like such a cliche but butterflies run rampant in the pit of his stomach.) 

"Well," Ben starts, and the implications of that race hot through Callum's veins. "That depends. What are you doing tonight?" 

"Uh, nothing, I don't think?" Callum says, desperate to ignore the way those words make hope sing in his chest. 

"Let me take you out," Ben says. He takes a breath and there's silence for a second until he speaks again, and there's something else in his voice. "Apologise for the other day." 

The sound of an apology sends something hot and ugly through Callum. An apology means that Ben regrets it, means that all of this really is too good to be true. An apology is everything Callum doesn't want- of all the things he wants from Ben an apology isn't one of them. 

"Sorry?" Callum says, just blind hope that he's reading too much into it. 

"Felt like a bit of a dick afterwards, kissin' you and walking out like that," Ben replies, voice crackly over the phone but Callum's hopeful because it sounds like he says it with a smile. "Not that I regret it, if you don't?"

Callum almost lets the unsure tone go unheard because the sound of no regrets is like music. "No! Uh, no need to apologise, Ben." 

A pause, then Ben speaks again. "And regrets?" 

There's only one answer to give, because he's an honest man no matter how scary it feels. "None." 

"Good," Ben replies, and the smile that Callum can hear in his voice makes those butterflies flutter again, and it feels stupid, like new love. "Then you'll meet me later?" 

"Uh- yeah," Callum says, then his eyes catch the little desk calendar he keeps on the counter, and he notices today's date. "Shit- no!" 

"Um- no?" 

"No- I mean- shit!" Callum rushes out, and this is why he never does this. "I'd love to go out, it's just- my brother's birthday, it's today. I promised I'd be with him. He's my only family. Sorry, sorry, you don't need to know that-" 

"Alright, cool it Romeo," Ben laughs and for once it doesn't feel like being laughed at, it feels like being laughed with, and it's new and beautiful and it merges with this new love feeling. "I'll go with you, if you like." 

"I'm sure you've got better things to do with your evening than sit around with my brother telling war stories and drinking too much whiskey," Callum laughs. 

"Your brother was in the army?" Ben says. "And I ain't gonna turn my nose up at too much whiskey." 

"No, uh," Callum starts. There's a strange feeling that rockets through Callum's chest and he finds he wants to talk. "I was. In the army, I mean." 

"Well," Ben starts. "I do like a man in uniform." 

The heavy feeling that's there whenever Callum thinks about back then somehow lifts with just those few words and he finds himself laughing- it's half relief, half those damned butterflies again. It's a wonder, how this man he's met just a few times can make him feel like this- like he's never really felt with anyone else before. It feels like magic, or fate, or something that Callum's had no cause to believe in, maybe until now. 

"Well, uh. If you don't mind, that would be great," Callum replies after a minute. "Could use with someone to take the attention off me and my failing business." 

"Well if that's what you want, I do tend to pull focus," he laughs and oh, that sound. "I'll meet you outside later then?" 

"Uh, seven okay?" 

"Perfect. I'll see you later." 

The sound of the call cutting rings out and it echoes, and everything feels a little like a dream. 

Callum pinches himself and it's not. 

Callum realises later that going on a date with a movie star is not as easy as it sounds. 

Not that it even sounds easy. Fuck. 

He ends up turning over most of his bedroom trying to find something that feels appropriate to wear but nothing's right and it's six thirty and he's sat in his boxers feeling like there's not enough air in the room. 

Because the fact that this is Ben, Ben Mitchell, the man he's not stopped thinking about in days, isn't even the thing. It's dating altogether, it's that dance of nervous glances and racing hearts and something that he's not done in too long. He knows the song and the beat of the music but the moves are all wrong, and they leave him feeling too big and too much. 

It's terrifying, and it's even more terrifying that all of this makes him all the more eager for seven o'clock to tick around, because it's exhilarating. 

Instead he takes a deep, rattling breath and holds it, allows the world to settle around him just for a minute. 

He can do this. Ben is just a man, and this is just an evening with his brother, it's not the Ritz. 

Breaths come easier after that, and things seem a little lighter. Callum ends up grabbing a blue check shirt that he remembers Lola complementing at some point, with a bomber jacket and some jeans that feel a little too tight to be appropriate but he feels good, confident. Callum catches his own eye in the mirror and runs a hand over the back of his neck, soothing over the skin where its a little clammy with nerves. He takes another breath, long and slow and it calms the racing of his heart just a little.

He can do this. 

The bell rings, disturbs the quiet of the flat and those butterflies rush back. Maybe it shouldn't be, but the smile that creeps across his face is instinct at the thought of seeing Ben again. 

He takes another breath in the mirror, before rushing out of the room. 

Callum pulls the door to the flat open and Ben's stood there waiting for him, and the dream comes back in technicolour, shining in the way Ben's eyes light up when they catch his own, in a way that no one else's ever have before. 

Maybe it's kind of strange that he's seeing all these firsts with a man that will never really be his. Or maybe it's fate - maybe he was always destined to fall for the impossible. 

"Well, you scrub up nice," Ben says, smirk firmly back on his face and there's this tone in his voice that sends shivers down Callum's spine. 

"You're not too bad yourself," Callum replies with someone else's confidence. Ben's face falls into what feels like a genuine smile at the return though, and that feels like the best kind of achievement. 

There's a moment then, where time seems to stop. Where it seems to stand still just for them, and it's yet another first for Callum. Suddenly they're not in the street anymore, they're back standing in Callum's doorway and Ben's lips are on his and it's everything. It's life flashing in a second, it's a whole universe of a what if packed into a single shift of the clock hand. It's memories that aren't really memories, sepia toned and faded, laid out like a film. It might as well be because it's nothing more than a fantasy, than a glorious question. 

"We off then? Wouldn't want to make a bad impression on your brother already," Ben says after a minute and Callum's brought crashing back. He searches for Ben's eyes once again and there's a look there like maybe he saw that flash too, that universe played out for them, and it's that what if that pushes to the front of Callum's mind all over again. 

"Right- yeah, yeah," Callum replies, shaking himself and trying desperately to ignore the way his voice feels dangerously unstable. If Ben notices, he doesn't say anything. "It's- uh, just round the corner actually." 

They walk in silence, and in some inexplicable way it's comfortable. It doesn't feel like awkward first date cluelessness where all you really want to do is get back home and throw your pyjamas back on. It feels like fifty dates, like knowing silence. 

Callum's never seen the world in such technicolour. 

“Your brother owns a pub?” Ben asks once they’re standing outside the Vic. “Proper little empire you’ve got, Cal.” 

“Oh! Uh- no, it’s owned by a family friend, it’s just the local ‘round here,” Callum replies. It feels like offering little tidbits of his life to the other man, little pieces of his soul and it’s terrifying but exhilarating all the same.

Ben raises his eyebrows at him and that little smirk comes back. “Meeting the family friends already, am I?”

Callum can feel the blush as it climbs across his cheeks to the tips of his ears and the butterflies flutter again. “Well- it’s just-”

“I’m joking, Cal,” Ben replies with this smile that lights up his face and oh, it’s too soon for this. “I’m sure it’ll be great. Come on then, no point standing outside like lemons.” 

“Right! ‘Course,” Callum smiles. It’s odd- Ben leaves him feeling a little like he’s all over the place but in the best kind of way and maybe he shouldn’t feel like that already but his heart is already racing so far ahead. He rushes up to the door and pulls it open, familiar music and chatter falling out onto the street. It calms the way Callum’s heart races a little too fast, and he turns back to Ben. “After you.” 

“Oh, proper gentleman aren’t you?” Ben laughs and God, he’s fucked. 

As soon as they step inside, the familiar atmosphere washes over Callum and it’s as though he can breathe again. There are only a couple of punters around this time of night, mostly people on their own, plus an older couple Callum recognises from around the street. Tracey is waiting behind the bar, a battered book in her hands. She looks up on instinct when the doors open, and offers Callum a friendly smile. Hee’s always loved her - she’s worked at the Vic as long as Callum can remember, and now she’s just as much a part of the place as the bust in the corner.

“Alright, Callum?” she says. “Mick’s upstairs, he told me just to send you up.”

“Thanks, Trace,” he replies. He notices her eyes flicker for a second to where Ben’s stood - so close beside him his skin tingles - and there’s maybe a flash of recognition, but if she places Ben then she doesn’t show it. Instead, she just nods at the two of them and returns to her book. When Callum turns to catch Ben’s eye, he looks a little relieved too. 

“Just- uh, just back here,” Calum says, pointing towards the door at the side of the bar. Ben smiles back at him, and Callum could swear he feels his heart actually skip. 

“Lead the way, gorgeous,” he says, and Callum’s not entirely sure how he’s going to survive the night. 

When the two of them reach the top of the stairs, the familiar sounds of the Carter family ring loud in comparison to downstairs. It’s a kind of chaos Callum’s always loved, even if it leaves a dull ache right next to his heart, somewhere deep in his chest. Linda shouts something about Mick burning the vegetables and Ben appears next to him, grinning. 

“They sound lively,” Ben says. 

“Yeah, uh- you get used to it," he replies and when Ben turns to grin at him Callum could swear he loses his breath for a second. 

He's just wondering whether he's been staring at Ben for an inappropriate amount of time when Linda steps out of the kitchen, muttering to herself, before she looks around and their eyes catch. 

She lets out an excited little yell and holds her hands out, rushing towards him. "Halfway! Oh, it's so good to see you!" 

Linda wraps him in a tight hug and it pulls together the pieces of him that feel slightly like they're peeling apart. She's always had that power to put him back together with a hug, and it turns out it's exactly what he needed right now even if he didn't know it - as is so often the case. "And you, Mrs C." 

She pulls away and plants two hands on his cheeks, rolling her eyes fondly at him. She looks as though she's about to say something else when her eyes catch on something over his shoulder and Callum suddenly remembers the fact that maybe it's not a normal thing to most people that Ben Mitchell's stood just over his shoulder. Hell, Callum's not used to the thought yet. 

Linda's eyes flick between Ben and Callum for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing, stepping a little to the side of him to face Ben. 

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sure you've heard it a thousand times but you're the spitting image of-" 

"Mrs C, this is Ben," Callum interrupts quickly, and Linda stops laughing. 

Ben does this stupidly adorable little wave thing and Callum's whole body just forgets how to function for a second. 

"Oh," Linda says with this nervous little laugh, then holds out a hand to Ben. "It's - very nice to meet you Be- Mr Mitchell. Linda- I'm Linda." 

"Well, it's lovely to meet you, Linda," he replies, shaking her hand. "And Ben's fine. This is- a lovely place." 

Linda laughs a little nervously and Callum's just about to jump between them when Mick sticks his head around the door. 

"Halfway, my son!" he grins, and Callum will never be able to explain quite how Mick calling him his son makes him feel. "Come on through, kid, grub's almost up." 

Linda takes the opportunity to excuse herself back to the kitchen and the second she's gone, Ben lets out a long breath. 

"I'm sorry," Callum says, almost instinctively before Ben can speak. "I-I know it's- they're-" 

"Cal," Ben smiles at him and Callum just- stops breathing. "They seem lovely." 

He's not expecting the blush that burns his cheeks but, given the way Ben looks at him, it's certainly not unwelcome.

As expected, Mick is a lot cooler about meeting Ben. Callum's never seen the other man flustered (although he has heard the story of the time Harry Redknapp graced the floors of the Vic, and that's an entertaining story), and, true to form, his eyes only widen momentarily before he offers Ben his hand to shake. He tells them all to take a seat around the kitchen table, where they've shoved a few extra seats in the gaps like they always do when it's someone's birthday - they end up elbowing each other over dinner every time, but it's the kind of family Callum's always dreamed of so he never complains - and informs them that everyone else is running late, as always. Callum takes the seat on the right corner of the table, opposite the wall where he always sits. Ben slides into the seat next to him and they're so close that their thighs touch, and Callum almost doesn't suppress the full body shiver that that sends through him. When he looks over at him, Ben just smirks like he knows exactly what he's doing and, God, it's going to be a long evening.

Stuart crashes into the room with his loud personality and lack of brain to mouth filter and starts fanboying over Ben from about the second he steps into the room. Nancy is a lot cooler, partly because Callum's not entirely sure she actually recognises him. Lee lets out something that can only be described as a small whimper when he meets him, then is promptly told to sit down by Mick, although he doesn't take his eyes away from Ben for quite a while after that. Ben deals with it all graciously - although the spark that forms in his eyes tells Callum that he actually does enjoy being recognised - then excuses himself to the toilet. It's quiet for about thirty seconds before all eyes turn to him. 

"Halfway, kid," Mick starts. "I love you, but how the hell is Ben Mitchell using my khazi?" 

Nancy's eyes widen. "Wait- Ben Mitchell? Halfway, how the fuck did you land Ben Mitchell? No offense." 

Linda says language! at the same time as he huffs in indignation, but the way Lee raises his eyebrows at him as if to say she's probably right, mate reminds him that he's not exactly been Cupid the past few years. 

"Look, I just- ran into him outside the shop," Callum says, and Lee raises his eyebrows at him again. 

"'Ran into him'?" Lee questions and it seems his silence is telling enough. 

"So is it serious then?" Nancy asks a second later. "Like- are you two actually dating, or..?" 

"Hold on, what do you mean, actually ? You don't have to sound so shocked!" 

"Oh my God, my little brother's growing up!" 

"Shut up, Stu." 

"You sealed the deal yet?" Nancy adds when things fall silent and because the universe hates him, Ben steps through the door that exact second. 

God , maybe this was a mistake.

“I can only apologise,” Callum says as soon as the door shuts behind them, because it’s been quite possibly the most embarrassing evening of his life (even if somehow the fact that Ben Mitchell’s been sat with his friends - his second family - all evening sends something racing through his chest, and he’s not sure he’ll ever forget it). Ben laughs a little, hands in his pockets and somehow he looks nervous , which feels like something so different from the Ben that he’s seen so far. Although- just about everything that’s happened the past week feels like something so different from his life.

He’s just- well, him. This might as well all be a dream. 

“You say that too much,” Ben says after a minute, falling in step with Callum as they walk down the street, and it’s so empty that it feels like they’re the only people in the world. It’s a nice feeling, because it feels like Callum’s allowed to exist in this impossibility for a while longer, before he’s reminded of reality. 

“What?” 

“You say sorry too much,” Ben replies, meeting Callum’s eyes for a minute and it feels like too much for what this should be. Callum goes to apologise again, until Ben raises his eyebrows at him and they both laugh a little, the sound curling out into the cold of the night and Ben’s laugh sounds like a beautiful melody. “Your friends seem nice enough anyway.” 

“They’re, uh,” he starts, but he’s not really sure where he’s going with it. How is he supposed to explain that the people sat back in that room are so much more than his friends, because they’re the closest thing to a real family that he’s ever had? Is he even supposed to explain that to someone who might as well be a stranger to him? God knows what he’s supposed to do, but the only thing he wants to do in that moment is be honest. “They mean a lot to me. Mick and Linda practically raised me, they've been together since, like, secondary school and married as long as I can remember."

“They seem solid,” Ben replies, and there’s something wistful in his voice that Callum recognises. “Not too familiar with marriages lasting, me.” 

Ben looks to him, and their eyes meet for a minute. In that moment, it feels like they have more in common than Callum ever thought. It’s not something they even have to say- just a mutual understanding and suddenly Callum knows so much more about him. 

They walk in silence for a little while longer and somehow it isn’t awkward. There’s a question budding in the back of Callum’s mind, and if he was brave enough maybe he wouldn’t be afraid of the answer. 

“You, uh, busy tomorrow?” Ben says. 

“I don’t think I’ve been busy in quite a while,” Callum replies, before it clicks in his head how uncool that actually makes him sound and God, is he even trying? “I- I mean- no. No, I’m not busy.” 

Ben looks at him, probably for a bit longer than is strictly necessary and it makes Callum squirm in place a little. It feels like being seen, and that’s not something that happens to him all that often. 

“Okay,” Ben says. “I’ll be outside your shop at 8.” 

Breathing becomes suddenly a little too difficult, because is Ben Mitchell asking him on a date? “Oh, uh- yeah, yeah that’s- that’s great.” 

Ben just nods and they slip into silence again- just them and the wind. 

They make it into the middle of the square and Callum’s immediately drawn to the bench that’s there, because there’s a strange kind of tranquility in the square when it’s like this. It fascinates Callum, that a place that’s so bustling with life in the day can feel completely different when the moon comes out- it’s another world, and a place of peace and something in him settles at the thought of bringing Ben here, because regardless of the implications it feels right. It's a little like baring his soul, and maybe that's too deep for the first date but nothing about this is normal so Callum reckons he can just throw caution to the wind. 

He doesn't sit - there's a somewhat inexplicable permanence to that, an expectation. He stands just in front of the bench instead, tracing his eyes over the old wooden panels and all of the places that he knows from experience are weak. Ben falls into step next to him, coming to stand so close that Callum can hear the rhythm of his breathing. It feels as though his heart subconciously syncs, almost as if in recognition, as though Callum has known Ben before in some form. They're so close that if Ben took his hands out of his pockets they would touch Callum's and it's exhilarating. 

“I grew up around here,” he says, voice a little too loud in the silence, and Ben looks over to him. “Could never really get away from the place, much as I might have wanted to. Too many memories.”

Ben nods like he understands - Callum thinks that maybe he does, more than he’d expect. 

“My Dad’s from ‘round here, but I grew up with my mum. Spent most of my childhood in South Africa,” Ben replies, and Callum resists the urge to say I know - he keeps it to his own head instead, a subtle reminder of what this really is, who Ben really is. “Always wondered what it would have been like if I’d stayed around here. Maybe we would have known each other.” 

There’s a sort of wistfulness in the way Ben says that and Callum’s so far from deserving it. He knows they never would have been friends, because Callum was the sort of kid that spent every free day in the library and didn’t have friends. Even then, Callum never would have been good enough for Ben. It feels like something that’s scarred into him, this idea of never good enough and it’s probably his Dad’s doing, but that thought squeezes his chest too tight so he lets it go. 

He doesn’t say all of this of course, because why spoil the dream with reality? 

“That would have been something. I was a pretty nerdy kid though, don’t think I would have been all that much fun,” Callum laughs. Ben doesn’t - instead he looks at him with this intense look and all Callum can think is that no one has ever looked at him like that. 

“I bet you were a great kid,” Ben says. “Can’t have been that bad, look at where you are now.”

“What, running a failing bookshop around the corner from the house I grew up in?” 

Ben smiles a little and looks down at his feet. “I meant you . Proper gentleman, you are.” 

“I aim to please,” Callum replies, and Ben raises an eyebrow at him. 

“I’m sure you do,” he says. 

“Shit- I didn’t- I didn’t mean like that ,” Callum stutters out when his brain finally kicks in and he’s reminded of just where he is. 

Ben doesn’t say anything - just fixes him with a look like why not and Callum doesn’t know how to respond. 

They stand there in the silence for a minute and it should be awkward, by every account. He’s standing in the middle of the square with a man that he barely knows but also knows way too much about, and he’s utterly helpless at what he’s supposed to do. The strange thing is, though, that somehow it’s not. Not like most other encounters Callum has, most of the other dates that he’s been on that end in an awkward silence and a well, the weather’s lovely isn’t it? It’s a comfortable silence, like there's nowhere else he'd rather be - a silence like they’ve known each other for years. 

Ben turns a few minutes later and lowers himself to the bench. The old wood creaks a little, and it’s just a little sound that joins with the wind as it whistles through - it blends into the natural cacophany of the night and gets lost there. He'd warn Ben about the weakness of the wood but his voice doesn't feel worthy of that beautiful melody, so he stays quiet. 

“Sky’s nice tonight,” Ben says, his head turned upwards. Callum turns to look - there are scraps of clouds scattered across like pieces of cotton candy, and the moon’s bright and full where it hangs just over the top of the Vic. They’re a couple metres from the streetlights as well so there’s even the faint glitter of a couple of stars, just scattered across the sky. It feels open and empty and somewhat magical, and all of that seems to fit with the way Callum’s heart races. 

“Yeah,” he replies and Ben’s quiet again, not shifting his gaze from above. 

Callum hates that he gets like this- these awkward moments where he can’t figure what he’s supposed to do. Because most of his life he’s had people - things - leading him by what he’s supposed to do. This- it’s different, new and nothing short of fucking terrifying . 

It makes his heart race in a beautiful way all the same, though, even just the thought of the other man. 

Callum’s warned him- that he’s probably going to be awful at this. That he’s painfully awkward and clueless and clumsy and often too emotional but Ben had just shrugged, told him that he didn’t mind and Callum’s not sure that anyone’s ever dealt with his flaws like that- just brushed them aside without a second thought, as if they really don’t matter. It wouldn’t surprise him if it’s just an act - it’s not like Ben’s not good at that, that’s already been established - but he’s too scared to ask. Scared of either answer, and what either really does mean. 

If Ben cares, and he’s just putting it aside for now because, well, it’s not like he’s getting absolutely nothing out of this, then fine- it would just make Ben no different to most of the people that Callum knows. But the thing is Callum knows that he is different, to anyone he’s ever met, to anyone that’s ever bothered to wander into his life. So if he’s not lying, and he really doesn’t care- well, Callum doesn’t know how to deal with that either.

Either way, Ben terrifies him in everything that he could mean, but that doesn’t mean he wants to stop.

But he’s still stuck at this crossroads. He thinks he’s probably supposed to leave, since Ben’s sat down on the bench alone and made no gesture that he wants Callum to stay. There’s a song that he thinks of, almost distantly, one that had played on the radio during a quiet period in the shop yesterday-

It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart

Without saying a word, you can light up the dark

The name escapes him but the tune plays through his head, and he can’t stop thinking about it. He thinks, distantly, if this was a romance movie it might just be playing in the background, as the audience waits with baited breath to see what happens next- whether the man stays. But then- that could never be him. If he were like that he’d have the confidence to sit, to kiss, to hold just like he thinks he wants to but he has none of that confidence.

But he’s no movie star, no great hopeless romantic. He knows better than all of that, because in his own personal experience love is messy, and complicated, and full of expectation and certainly not for people like him. 

If only he was- he’d have the confidence to stay without being asked to. 

There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me

The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall

So he keeps hold of his coat and turns away, tries to ignore the way his chest burns with how much he wants to turn around. He takes a few steps away, leaving Ben where he’s sat watching the sky as it moves. He hopes that this won’t be the last time. 

You say it best 

“Stay,” Ben says, voice loud and full of something in the silence. 

When you say nothing at all 

He stays. 

“Tell me something about yourself.” 

The question catches Callum off guard, especially when he’s been concentrating more on not spilling the ridiculously expensive soup he’s been eating down his trousers. He looks up to meet Ben’s eyes again, waiting for the punchline but he only finds honest curiosity there- like the man in front of him, the man who could leave this table and find someone better than Callum to spend his night with in a heartbeat, actually wants to know him. It’s a strange feeling, one that he’s not really had in a while.

“What?” he asks, and a smile flickers onto Ben’s face. 

“We’re on a date, ain’t we?” Ben replies, and it sends a shiver down Callum’s spine. “And I barely know anything about you. So, tell me about yourself, Callum.” 

It leaves him a little breathless, the thought that someone wants to know him like that. Ben watches him as if there’s nowhere else he would rather be, and that’s- well, it’s a lot from anyone but from Ben Mitchell ?

“I’m a writer,” he blurts out before he can really think it through. “Well, writer being a loose term. I- I write a little, just- short stories, descriptions, that kind of thing.” 

And God, everything in Callum’s mind is just screaming stop talking. Because it always happens like this, it always starts with the innocent questions. Except they lead to the nervous rambling, and then to the oversharing, which always comes in the form of Callum telling people that he’s a writer, which is just about the overstatement of the century. He has a stack of half used notebooks by his bed and half a manuscript he’ll never finish, and apparently that makes him a writer? 

Oh, but then come the questions- 

What do you write? Have you ever published anything? Let me read something!

-and they are all things he can’t answer because at the end of the day he’s not a writer. Callum’s the owner of a bookstore that barely makes rent most months, who’s lived in the same little corner of London since he tried to run away from responsibility, who’s living in a dream and hoping that he doesn’t have to wake up. 

He’s nothing, and Ben is everything . 

“Cal?” 

When the restaurant fades back in around Callum, Ben’s watching him from the other side of the table with concern in his eyes. It makes his heart race in a way that makes him breathless, and he can’t decide yet if it’s in a good way or a bad one. 

“You okay?” Ben says after Callum’s quiet for a little too long. 

“Yeah,” he replies and his voice sounds too hoarse, too affected by the fact that Ben seems to actually care. “Yeah, sorry. Did you say something?” 

Ben considers him for a minute and it feels like being taken apart, like the other man can see every thought that races through Callum’s mind. “I asked if you liked writing.” 

Callum frowns. “Uh- yeah, I do.” 

“Well then,” Ben smiles, leaning a little back in his chair. “That makes you a writer in my book. Long as you enjoy it, you don't need any other qualifications. I admire it, anyway. I'm hopeless at all that - prefer to stick to reading other people's words, thank you very much." 

Callum’s hopeless against the blush that climbs across his face, all the way to the tops of his ears the way he hates. Ben smiles when it happens, his eyes racing to take in every part of Callum’s face, but it doesn’t feel cruel- it doesn’t feel like being laughed at or ridiculed the way he’s used to. It feels like being appreciated, and it leaves this warm bubbling feeling in his chest, right where his heart lies. 

“Uh- thank you, but it’s not-” 

“It is something, Callum, so don’t even say it,” Ben interrupts, eyebrows raised at him. “It’s an incredible skill, you should be proud of it.” 

It feels like if Ben says anything more Callum will break, confess his love right here and now in the middle of a restaurant that’s definitely too fancy for him, so he grabs the glass in front of him with a hand that’s definitely shaking too much and brings it to his lips, letting the sip he takes dissolve the words he wants to say where they sit on his tongue. 

When he sets the glass back on the table he’s gathered himself again, though the warm feeling over his heart hasn’t dissolved yet. 

“So,” Callum starts. “What about you, then?” 

Ben frowns. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you,” he replies. “I tell you mine, you tell me yours.” 

“Ain’t being cocky here, babe, but I think you probably already know most of what there is to know about me,” Ben laughs. 

( Babe burns through his veins, sets his whole chest on fire, makes it a little harder to breathe in a way that makes his fingers tingle.)

“I know there’s more than all that,” Callum says, and it’s as close to honesty as feels safe right now. It still feels like he’s toeing a line, like he’s one wrong word away from being escorted out of here but the way Ben looked at him before still has him on a high. “I know you’ve gotta be all Ben Mitchell to everyone else, but- you ain’t got to pretend with me. So, tell me something about you .” 

Ben’s quiet for long enough that the doubt starts to creep into Callum’s chest, making his stomach uneasy. The other man just watches him with a look that Callum can’t quite decipher and all of a sudden he’s listening to himself back and hearing how pretentious it made him sound. 

“Sorry- I’m sorry, that sounded ridiculous, I just-” 

“I almost wasn’t an actor,” Ben says suddenly. His eyes don’t meet Callum’s any more - now they’re trained on his hands on the table in front of him. His fingers play with a silver ring that sits around one finger, one that Callum’s sure he’s seen magazines speculate about on multiple occasions. It’s been almost conclusively proved that it’s not a wedding ring but right now, with the way that Ben’s fingers touch it so gently, he wants to know so much more. “My Dad- uh, it wasn’t something he ever thought was achievable for me. He always wanted me to be a footballer or some shit. Not that I ever actually cared much about football, past the tight shorts.

“But me- I always loved movies. My nan used to have all these old classics, like black and white movies on tape and she used to let me sit on her lap and watch them when I was a kid, if I was staying with her for the day. She’d always turn ‘em off when my Dad came to pick me up and stick some sports game on and wink at me. It was like- our little secret. Our special thing- this part of myself that I only really shared with her once I got that my Dad would never like it.”

“Your Nan sounds wonderful,” Callum says after a while. A fond smile flickers across Ben’s face and he nods, just slightly. 

“She was,” he replies. 

“How did you get into acting in the end, then?” Callum asks a little while later, when Ben looks as though he’s pulled himself back a little from whatever memory he’d almost been lost in. He’d recognised the look on Ben’s face, understood what it meant and was perfectly content to just give the other man a second to feel. 

Ben’s smile falters a little at the question, and his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around his ring. “Uh-”

“You don’t have to talk about it, Ben,” he adds, but Ben shakes his head. 

“No, it’s- okay,” he replies, then takes a breath. His eyes never stray from the ring on his finger. “I had this- boyfriend just after I first came out. I was- well, a bit of a twat back then but he- he got it. He understood how scared I was, and we took it slow.”

Ben slips the ring off and turns it between his fingers, his thumb moving over the smooth surface for a second before he slips it back on, turning it so that it sits just right. It takes until then for Callum to make the connection between the man Ben talks about and the heavy silver ring that sits on the man’s finger. A breath shudders through his chest, in and out, shaky, because he understands. 

“He- he was the one who always encouraged me to go after what I actually wanted rather than doing whatever would please my Dad,” Ben continues. “It was hard, but- I know he saved me.” 

The admission settles in the air, heavy, and Callum lets it sit. He knows, he understands because Callum had his own saviour. He has his own monument, just like Ben’s ring, in the form of the dog tags that usually sit in a box underneath his bed that he wears under his shirt every so often. The dog tags that he’s wearing now, in fact, sitting cold against his chest. 

“His name was Paul,” Ben whispers. The was is enough to understand. 

Callum reaches a hand across the table, palm up. It’s an open invitation, not a demand but an offer- of comfort, there if Ben needs it. The other man looks up first and their eyes connect, and even just in that second there’s a spark that feels like electricity thrumming through Callum’s whole body. Ben reaches out and connects their hands, sliding his fingers across Callum’s skin. 

“Mine was called Chris. The man who saved me, I mean,” Callum whispers in return. 

Ben nods, smiles just a little. They’re just two lost souls in all this, after all. Callum’s happy to be Ben’s tether, even if it’s just for tonight.

The cold night air feels like blissful relief on Callum’s warm face when they step out of the restaurant a little too close later on in the night. Some part of him wants to be brave, wants to reach out and take Ben’s hand, link their fingers and never let go but it’s not his place. Sure, it’s not like they’ve exactly done things in the traditional way but holding Ben’s hand in public like this feels like something different. It’s a declaration to most people of something Callum wishes he could ask for but knows he could never have, so he shoves shaking hands in his trouser pockets and settles for walking almost shoulder to shoulder with the other man instead. 

They’re both watching the ground as if they can’t quite bear to look up and maybe Callum’s oblivious most of the time but he’s sure there’s something in the air. It seeps into his lungs with every breath and slips into his blood, settling in his heart and keeping it warm. 

They wander side by side in the direction of the hotel that Ben is staying at and the closer they get the more it feels like something is tightening around his lungs, squeezing whatever it can out of them. He wants to ask, wants so badly for this not to be the end of this night but it’s another thing he’s not sure he has the right to ask for. Some part of him wonders if Ben is thinking the same thing every time their shoulders so much as brush and maybe it’s small but it’s this one little thing that he can’t stop thinking about. He’s so close to just- spilling everything that he doesn’t say anything the whole time they walk. Ben seems perfectly content with the quiet anyway. 

Too soon they’re standing outside of a hotel whose rooms, Callum is sure, are probably worth more than the bookshop makes in a year. The two of them come to a stop in front of the entrance doors and Ben turns to look at him for the first time since the restaurant. Callum’s about to open his mouth but Ben beats him to it, anxiety clear in his eyes. 

“You wanna come up?” he asks and it takes Callum’s breath away, because it’s everything, but it’s also everything he doesn’t deserve. 

“Oh, I- I wouldn’t want to-” 

“ Do you wanna come up? ” Ben asks again and it feels like an odd thing really. The man asks it like he cares, like he’s saying it out of more than obligation and maybe that shouldn’t be as new as it is, but it gives him whatever it is he needs to push past the lump in his throat. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, almost completely breathless but Ben must hear because his face lights up , and it’s easily the most beautiful sight Callum’s ever seen. 

“Alright,” Ben replies. “Just give me a minute to sort everything out, yeah? I’ll text you.” 

Callum nods because that’s all it feels like he can do, and watches Ben walk away, already waiting on the phone in his pocket.

Ben: Come on up x

Callum can’t stop his hands from shaking as he steps into the lift. He tries shoving them in his pockets but they just shake there instead, and the man that almost steps into the lift beside him shoots him a look, and steps back as the lift doors swing shut. As soon as he’s alone Callum sags against the back wall, running still shaking hands over his face. His skin is hot with the blush that’s been there nearly since the beginning of the night and he can’t stop smiling, and that combined with the shaking hands and Callum’s not surprised people keep looking at him like he’s a madman. Normally it would make him self-conscious, terrified of what people are thinking about him but somehow, with the promise of Ben upstairs waiting for him , none of it really seems to matter. 

It’s funny, really- how nothing seems to matter when he’s with Ben.

The lift chimes once he reaches the fourth floor and the doors slide open to an empty corridor. It’s a nice old building, definitely nicer than any hotel he’s ever stayed in - although that’s not difficult - and maybe usually he’d appreciate it because he’s that kind of person, and he takes joy from mundane little things like that but none of it’s important. 

Because that text from Ben still sits on his phone without a reply because however many times he’d tried to piece together a reply nothing felt right. 

(Nothing felt as right as being beside Ben would, having the other man hold him, reveling in how it felt to be seen by him.)

Callum has to actually force himself to walk somewhat calmly down the corridor. 

He reaches the door eventually and he knocks before he can stop himself and think too much about it. He can just about hear footsteps on the other side of the door, coming closer and Callum’s heart starts to race at the thought of Ben there, waiting for him-

The door swings open, and something’s not right. 

Firstly, Ben doesn’t open the door all the way. Callum guesses it’s not exactly unusual since Ben must have to deal with paparazzi all the time. 

But it’s his eyes. Not for the first time, Callum almost wishes he wasn’t so good at reading people, because it takes their eyes meeting once for him to see it. There’s excitement and perhaps happiness in Ben’s eyes, feelings that Callum’s sure are reflected in his own but in Ben’s they’re overpowered. First by something that looks like guilt, hot and heavy, and then something that makes his stomach turn- 

Regret. 

It’s like being drenched in freezing water, and now his hands are shaking for a whole different reason. There’s still a tugging feeling in his chest but it’s no longer drawing him to this room, it’s drawing him away - back in time, before he saw that look in Ben’s eyes, before he felt the air of finality that sinks into his skin right now. 

“Ben?” Callum asks, his voice small and pathetic sounding and he hates it, hates that he feels like this already when this was never a promised thing. It was a chance meeting, a coincidence and a bottle of beer or two. Now though, faced with the prospect of an end, Callum’s seeing that without his position his heart has taken it as so much more . 

“I’m sorry,” Ben replies but that’s all he can say before another set of footsteps rings out, and Callum’s stomach turns again. 

“Who is it, Ben?” a man’s voice calls out before the door swings open wider to reveal the other man standing there. 

He’s tall with brown hair and a strong looking jaw, and he’s dressed in a suit that Callum knows must be from some designer brand from the way it looks carefully pressed. The man just- exudes class and power, everything that Callum doesn’t have. 

The man moves a hand to rest on the back of Ben’s neck, fingers just sweeping into his hair in a way that’s unmistakably intimate and Callum’s stomach drops. 

“Housekeeping,” Callum stutters out when he realises they’ve all been silent for too long. Something in him wants to spill the truth, wants to just grab hold of Ben and kiss him because this is supposed to be his fairytale, his dream but he doesn’t. Partly because he’s not sure he can actually move, and partly because that’s not him. It wouldn’t be fair on Ben, not when he’s clearly got someone else already waiting for him. 

Callum wouldn’t do that- wouldn’t ruin whatever Ben already has, even if the thought of walking away right now alone feels impossible. 

“Perfect, could we get a bottle of champagne on ice?” the man says, oblivious to everything racing around Callum’s head, then turns to Ben. “Do you want anything, sweetheart?”

( Oh, and it's sweetheart - the word that's been running around Callum's head non stop since the first time Ben walked into his shop and said it. Somehow, it makes all of this saying goodbye so much harder.)

“No, Luke, it’s-” 

“Thank you then, mate,” the man, Luke, replies, with a look in his eyes that Callum knows is telling him to do one. His hand slips from Ben’s neck to his hand and tugs, pulling him slightly away from the door and into his arms. “Now, you, I’ve brought you a surprise.” 

“Oh yeah?” Ben grins and Callum wants to run, desperately . He presses a kiss to Luke’s lips and he almost turns away but he finds he can’t make himself do it, can’t make himself leave. “Why don’t you go and get it ready for me, then?” 

The other man hums, shoots a wink at Callum and then moves back into the room. 

Callum finds the energy to move, out of nowhere, and ends up halfway down the corridor before he can even process it. 

He doesn’t see Ben step out and watch him leave, desperate.

"You’re quiet, son.” 

Callum looks up from where his fingers are collecting the condensation from the outside of his glass, only to find Mick standing over him on the other side of the bar. There’s a look of poorly masked concern on his face and his eyes search Callum’s face, as if the answer lies there somewhere.

It’s been a few weeks now, and Callum’s sure it’s still written all across his face.

“Sorry,” he replies a second later. “It’s nothing.” 

Mick frowns. “Trouble with the shop?” 

“Nah, we’re, uh,” he starts, then hesitates. He’s about to say they’re doing well but the lie tastes bitter even just sitting on the tip of his tongue. “We’re scraping by. It’s alright though, Lee’s a good help most of the time.” 

Mick snorts. “Yeah, most of the time is generous, I bet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Callum smiles. “Nah, it’s nice having someone around. Gets quiet.” 

MIck nods, and the two of them are quiet for a second longer. Callum takes another sip of the beer in his hand but it doesn’t taste of anything when it slips down his throat. The gaze Mick fixes him with is too knowing- he’s always been able to see right through Callum. 

“How about that bloke then?” he asks eventually. “The one you brought ‘round the other day.” 

Callum sighs. “Never gonna last, was it?” 

“Hey, none of that now,” Mick frowns, pointing a finger at him. “You’re a catch, lad. Just gotta wait for the right bloke, that’s all. Takes a bit of time sometimes.” 

It’s always in moments like this that Callum loves Mick the most. 

He’d been one of the first people he’d come out to when he was a kid, after the boys at school had called him something he hadn’t understood back then. Mick hadn’t ever shouted, hadn’t told him that it was something he wasn’t supposed to know about then. He’d never said that Callum was too young, or that maybe one day he’d feel different. He’d just nodded and tugged Callum into a hug, whispering in his ear how proud he was. 

Callum still remembers the feeling of crying into his shoulder a few weeks later, after he’d told his Dad the same story and his response had been a fist. 

“Thanks, Mick,” Callum replies after a minute, meeting the other man’s eyes for the first time that night. He doesn’t have the words for it, but it’s a thank you for so much more than just this conversation. 

Mick nods like he understands it all, and reaches a hand across the bar to grasp Callum’s arm. “Any time, son.”

He watches Mick move down towards the other end of the bar and suddenly being sat here alone feels a little too suffocating. Callum calls out to the other man and he turns around instantly, eyebrows raised in question.

“Did you,” Callum starts, then hesitates. There’s a question on the tip of his tongue, one that’s been tugging at the back of his mind for the last few weeks but he’s not sure how to say it. “You and Linda- when you got together, did you- know? Like- your first date, did you know?” 

Mick considers him for a minute before turning around to Tracy, who moves a little further up the bar to take care of the customers waiting. He walks around the end of the bar to slide onto the bar stool next to him, and sighs. 

“Let me tell you, son. It ain’t always like them movies you and L like to watch when I’m not around. Me and Linda, we met when we was kids. I took her out to a chicken shop for our first date and let me tell you, she weren’t best pleased about that,” he laughs and there’s this sparkling look in his eyes, one that Callum’s noticed is always there when he talks about Linda. “But second date I got it back, took her to a park with a blanket and sandwiches I’d made all myself and we had our first kiss there. She liked that one, took her to the same place for our first wedding anniversary.

“I think, if you asked me back then, did I know I was gonna marry her? I don’t know what I would’ve said. I knew something, I think. I knew she meant a lot to me, like- I knew we were gonna be something. It was just a feeling when I looked at her, you know? Like, set my heart racing. I knew I loved her, definitely.”

It just solidifies this feeling in his stomach, one that’s been sitting there since he walked away from Ben - like his body knows something that his mind hasn't caught onto yet, like an instinctive reaction. It's as though his own body calls out to Ben's - like it longs to know the other man. It's a terrifying feeling, but somehow the thing that's even more terrifying is that he doesn't mind it at all. 

Callum doesn’t even realise he’s fallen asleep until a heavy knock rocks him back awake, suddenly aware. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face to try and push some form of wakefulness to his features. It’s pointless really, since it’s probably just the post as he doesn’t tend to get visitors but something deep in his chest calls for it, like it knows something Callum doesn’t. 

He’s glad of it when he pulls the door open, ready with a friendly smile, only to find Ben standing there. 

A hoodie covers most of his frame, the hood pulled high and sunglasses resting on his nose. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that Ben’s hiding, and maybe Callum wouldn’t recognise him if his heart didn’t actually stop beating for a second just at the knowledge that it's actually him. 

“Alright?” Ben says a second later, already looking around him. His voice sounds frantic, lost and despite everything that’s happened it still leaves an ache in Callum’s chest. The past doesn’t matter right now, not when Ben’s standing in front of him sounding like that. “Can I- uh, can I come in?”

“Of course,” Callum replies on instinct- honestly, he thinks he’d say yes to anything Ben asked of him right now. He steps aside and Ben shoots him a small, grateful smile before looking around one last time and stepping into the flat. 

“Tea?” Callum asks once Ben’s settled himself on the sofa, hood down and sunglasses lying beside him. His eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot, like he’s been crying but Callum doesn’t ask. It’s barely even his business any more but the curiosity still sparks, along with worry that he definitely shouldn’t feel for the other man. 

Ben doesn’t respond for a minute, looking like he’s too lost in his head until Callum steps in front of him. He looks up and their eyes catch for a second - all it takes is that second for Callum’s heart to start racing again, because it’s Ben - before the other man turns to watch the ground again. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

He just sounds so- not Ben that Callum almost doesn’t want to leave him alone. Even the walk to the kitchen and back feels too long to be apart when Ben's so clearly hurting but he forces himself away anyway. 

When he returns to the room, two mugs in his hands, Ben takes one with a grateful smile before looking away again, holding it tight. Callum sits on the other end of the sofa and he’s back to feeling miles away from Ben, wondering if there’s any point in reaching out. 

“What happened?” Callum asks after a while, once the silence feels like too much. 

Ben lets out a shaky breath, staring into the mug in his hands like it holds every answer. 

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Ben says instead, and then suddenly it’s like he can’t hold himself together any longer. He puts the mug down on the floor and surges to his feet, turning to pace the room. His hands run across his face and through his hair as he breathes, eyes darting everywhere as if he’s going to find something - or someone - hiding there. It breaks Callum’s heart, past be damned. 

“Ben-” 

“They found these pictures,” he starts, still not daring to turn and look at Callum. “Fr- from ages ago, when I’d just moved out and I had fuck all, because I’d run, ‘cause I just- couldn’t stay there any more.” 

It feels like Ben’s already begging, like there’s no one else on his side with whatever’s happened and he’s just begging for something, anything to stop himself tearing apart. Callum stays quiet, despite the fact that it’s like he’s being told half a story- he can piece things together later, when it doesn’t look as though Ben’s going to shake out of his own skin. 

“Someone- some bloke I’d been with had done it, said he’d made a decent wage a-and that- it was easy money, just something to tide me over.”

When the phrase easy money passes Ben’s lips, Callum feels something settle in the pit of his stomach, like instinctively he already knows where this is going but his mind just hasn’t caught up yet. 

“I- I knew it was stupid at the time but I was desperate, and I couldn’t- I couldn’t go back to my Dad,” Ben continues and he says it with a vengeance that Callum recognises so well it makes his heart ache. “So I did this shoot, and now there’s these fucking- half naked pictures of me, and they’re fucking awful , and they’re everywhere. The- the hotel I was staying at is surrounded with press, and I just- didn’t know where else to go.” 

Maybe it’s the fact that Ben’s stood in front of him still pacing, hands running over his face and slipping into his hair, tugging at the strands that tugs at Callum’s heart, making him ache to reach out and fix or maybe it’s just having Ben standing in front of him again. Either way, when Callum replies he does it without thinking. 

“You’re safe here.” 

Ben freezes and his hands drop before he turns to watch him. Their eyes connect and there’s surprise - and maybe a little hope - buried in the blue that starts Callum’s heart racing. Surprise, like maybe that’s the last thing Ben was expecting to hear and the one thing he needed to. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, before he breaks. 

It’s instinct when Callum crosses the room to find Ben and take him into his arms. When he slips down to the floor when Ben’s knees buckle under the weight of everything that’s happening outside of the walls of Callum’s flat. When he pushes Ben’s head to rest over his already racing heart, hoping that the message comes across, the one that Callum’s not brave enough to voice yet but perhaps one day, perhaps soon-

This heart is here waiting for you, whenever you’re ready. 

They part, eventually. They don't speak, don't talk about the fact that they've ended up curled around each other on the floor, Callum's hand buried in Ben's hair and Ben's head over Callum's heart. They don't talk about the fact that it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be so easy to get lost in each other - it shouldn't be so easy to forget that a world exists outside of the confines of the other's arms.

It shouldn't be, but it is. They don't need words - it takes a single second of their eyes meeting to see that they understand each other. 

Callum sets Ben up in his bedroom, insisting that he should take his bed, and that he'll have the sofa. Ben looks as though he wants to protest, and he's not sure whether Ben's protesting Callum's bed or the fact that Callum's not in it. Either way he doesn't say anything, so Callum bites his tongue against the offer of company that rises in his throat and leaves Ben with a smile and a small goodnight. 

If he hesitates at the door, desperate to go back in and wrap Ben in his arms again, never let him go- well, that's between him and the night. 

(and Ben, who waits at the door listening to Callum's every step, silently begging him to turn around.)

The sound of the stairs creaking rings through Callum’s ears, and suddenly he’s aware of the fact that he’s not actually slept. Instead he’s just been drifting in this hazy state, thinking about the man down the hall and how this could possibly be real. Some part of him thinks that maybe it’s Ben, using the cover of the night to make his escape. It would make sense, running while the cameras are down but that doesn’t stop the ache that the thought leaves in Callum’s chest. 

(It comes all of a sudden, and stays like it’s always been there - the thought that he never wants Ben to go, never wants to wake up in a place that he’s not in. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once, and it fills up his chest with something warm and dangerous.

In reality, they exist on borrowed time and Callum’s tried to convince himself from the start that he knows that, that he’s ready for the end but now he’s not so sure.)

The footsteps come closer and Callum’s just waiting for it, waiting for the decision to be made and the creak of the door swinging open and shut again. He’s holding his breath without even realising it and he relishes in the way it burns, the perfect distraction. 

“Cal?” 

He flinches when the voice calls out, jumpy from the tension even though his voice (and it is his voice, Callum knows that much with worrying certainty) is soft and careful, like he’s not sure whether he actually wants Callum to hear him call. It sounds too much like an apology and Callum doesn’t want it . 

“You awake?” 

“Yeah,” Callum replies on instinct, before he’s even thought it through. His voice rings too loud in the quiet and it shatters the moment, just like he always does - he’s too big, too much for situations like this. He always ruins them, always. “You okay?” 

Light footsteps ring out again and suddenly they’re right beside him. Callum turns and finds Ben standing at the end of the sofa. The sight, though- oh , beautiful isn’t enough any more. 

Moonlight sinks into Ben’s skin from the window just behind him and makes him shine, solidifies him as something ethereal. The rest of the room is dark, shrouded in shadow but Ben, he stands out amongst it all. It feels like confirmation maybe, of the thought that still races around his head that this really is just some fantasy he’s created on a lonely day at the shop. Maybe not, though - that kind of pain, the kind that tints memories from a month or so ago, is something that Callum couldn’t imagine creating. 

Right now though, right here , none of that feels important. The only thing that feels worthy of Callum’s tired mind is the man that’s standing in front of him, a man that will always be too good for him but who gives himself to Callum anyway. 

Because Ben stands there like the only thing he wants is for Callum to see him, truly, and maybe that’s the only thing Callum wants in return. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ben says a minute later, and a hand comes up to run through his hair.

It’s such a contrast, seeing Ben like this compared to their first meeting. It feels intimate, like a secret only shared in the dead of night and under the cover of darkness, and Callum is it’s dedicated keeper. It’s the best privilege he’s ever been afforded.  

“Me neither,” Callum replies once he’s gathered his mind again, and he sits up against the sofa. He makes sure to leave enough space so that Ben can sit close if he wants to - and God, Callum wants him to - or further away by the other end of the sofa. It feels like a game, a nervous dance and it’s one that Callum feels like he’s starting to remember. From where, he’s not sure, but maybe that’s it - because this thing with Ben, it’s like remembering. It’s not new, or learning- it’s remembering. “You wanna sit?” 

Ben doesn’t speak for a moment and the world reduces to just them, just this little bubble. Nothing else is important, not what’s happened today or what will happen in the next minute, the next hour, the next day . All of it fades into nothing, when Callum’s choice is to think or to lose himself in Ben’s eyes. 

Even sitting down Callum feels too far away so he pulls himself up from the sofa. They’re so close when he stands that it feels impossible to not reach out and touch. He won’t, but Callum aches to be able to, even if it’s nothing more than reassurance that Ben is really there, that he isn’t dreaming. 

Ben’s eyes trace every inch of his face, settling on his lips for a second before their eyes connect again. It feels like the moments before that thing , the one that you know will change your life. No one ever remembers the moments before the event but oh, Callum knows he will. Whatever happens, however the future pans out, whenever this dream ends he knows he’ll never stop seeing these moments, over and over. 

“You are-” Callum starts without an end, without a word to explain everything that Ben is. He’s not sure there is one, but if Callum were able he’d create one- he’d create anything for Ben, anything that could make him see . “This is...“

“I know,” Ben replies. His eyes slip down to Callum’s lips again, then trail back up and it feels like there’s a question in it, one that Ben’s not sure his voice can last to ask and Callum knows the feeling. 

He answers it with his lips pressed to Ben’s. 

Somehow every time they kiss it feels like the first time he’s ever done it. It’s all fireworks and the crescendo of the music even just standing in the dark in the middle of his little flat in East London and it feels impossible. That feeling of a dream comes back but he’s determined to hold onto it as long as he’s allowed to, now that he’s got it again. If this is a dream, then he never wants to wake up - he wants to live right here in this moment, exist in this reality because nothing could be better than this. 

Not for the first time, he’s praying for some way to make time freeze right where it is. There’s always the inevitable comedown hanging over him, because Callum could never have anything like this forever. 

“Wow,” Callum says when they pull apart as his eyes trace every inch of Ben’s face, committing it all to memory.  

“What?” Ben asks, a small smile on his face.

“Nothing,” Callum replies, and they kiss, and it’s everything. 

It’s the feeling of the sun on his face that Callum wakes to. It’s not an abrupt thing, not like it is in the week when he sleeps right to his second alarm and then has to drag himself out of bed and into the shower before Lee makes fun of him for being late even though he lives above the shop. It’s something different - it’s waking up to a different world, a world that’s softer and drenched in soft gold sunlight. It traces its way across the room, cuts it into shapes and shines onto the white sheets and it feels like if he could paint, it would be a beautiful picture. It hits him sometimes, in moments like these that there can be so much beauty in life, so much that could be so artfully described by the right word or a delicate flick of a paintbrush if he put his mind to it. It’s a nice thought but it’s a sort of far off fantasy because he’s sure that venture would go just about as well as the one downstairs. For now it’s just a hazy daydream, one that hits him in moments like this. 

He goes to stretch out, spread an arm across the bed because it’s not often that he gets to relax like this but Lee’s agreed to open today so he’s got the morning off, and his arm collides with something else and oh- 

How could he forget? 

Ben lies next to him, perfectly relaxed in his sleep and that’s a type of artful beauty in itself. 

Callum finds himself thinking if only I was an artist, because he can almost see the way Ben could be reflected like this with gentle pencil lines, sweeping and curling. It makes him want to reach for a notepad and pencil but he knows he could never do the sight in front of him justice, and it would be a waste of a good view. He’s content instead to just watch, as creepy as maybe it is. It’s been a while though, since Callum’s spent a morning like this. Contented silence with someone else while his chest and mind run wild with thoughts and feelings that he’d never be brave enough to voice. 

Callum’s existing on borrowed time already, until Ben realises that he’s definitely not worthy of someone like him. He wouldn’t dare ruin that with something like feelings because the man that’s asleep next to him is already a million miles more than what he deserves, and while he’s not a strong enough man to turn it down when it started, he’s smart enough to understand that it will end, someday. 

Callum’s made peace with that, though. It’s a given truth. 

(His mind tells him otherwise, but that’s the hopeless romantic in him.)

A hand slips across the bed to run through Ben’s fringe, just as it falls over his eyes. The other man’s hair is soft and messy first thing in the morning and he just wants to bury his hands in it, feel the way it falls across his skin. As it is he settles for sweeping it out of his eyes, even as it falls almost immediately back to where it was. It makes Ben shift a little, face scrunching up for a second before he takes a deep breath through his nose. It slips back out of his mouth in a low groan - something that probably shouldn’t send a shiver down Callum’s spine but it does - before he settles again. Blue eyes flicker open a minute later and drift around the room before falling on Callum. 

He unashamedly takes pride in the way a smile slips onto Ben’s face when their eyes connect and it does something to him, being smiled at like that - being the joy in the first seconds of someone else’s day. It’s a feeling to get high off of, and it’s even better that it’s Ben. 

“G’morning,” he says, voice deep and a little gravelly with sleep. 

“Morning,” Callum replies and he’s hopeless to stop the smile that creeps onto his face in response to Ben’s. “You sleep okay?” 

Ben doesn't reply for a second and Callum's starting to think Ben might have just gone back to sleep when the sight of a hearing aid on the bedside table catches his eye. It takes him a second, but something he's read about Ben suddenly comes to mind, and oh. He nudges the other man, just enough that he opens his eyes halfway, then taps against his ear. Ben looks at him confused for a second, then realisation crosses his face, accompanied by a look that Callum's sure is embarrassment.

"Sorry," Ben mutters, pushing himself up to grab the hearing aid from the table and slip it into his ear. "Sorry, sorry, I- forgot."

"Don't worry, Ben, it's okay," Callum replies. "Everything good?"

The other man watches him for a second and there's a look on his face that Callum can't quite decipher. "Yeah, yeah- fine. Thank you."

"It's okay," he says, reaching a hand across to nudge Ben's on top of the duvet. "I just asked if you slept okay?"

Ben’s eyebrows flicker up for a minute. “Certainly didn’t have any trouble getting to sleep.” 

Callum can feel the way the blush creeps across his face, all the way up to his ears when he remembers last night, and he shoves his face into his pillow in response. 

“God, you’re so cute when you blush,” Ben sighs like it’s such a hardship on him, and it makes Callum actually giggle . “What are you doing to me, Callum Highway?” 

Their eyes meet again, Callum’s half hidden in his pillow still, and it feels like a question that can’t be answered with a response that fits what this is supposed to be. The truth is that Ben’s doing something to him too, something that feels like it's irreversible. There's nothing he feels brave enough to say to voice it though, not when he’s desperate for this to last as long as he can possibly hold onto the dream for. 

They stare for a while, eyes looking perhaps too deep into each other and maybe that should be scary - but it’s not. 

“Can I ask you something?” Ben says a little later, voice quiet even in the silence of the room. 

“‘Course,” Callum replies, even as his heart begins to race because it feels like this can’t be anything good. 

“Did you,” he starts, then sighs and rolls over, eyes now trained on the ceiling. “Did you expect something different? When you met me?” 

Callum’s so taken aback that he’s silent for a couple of seconds before, “What?” 

Ben turns back to look at him and there’s something like insecurity shining bright in his eyes. “There used to be this actress, she’d say they go to bed with Gilda, they wake up with me. Something about going to bed with the dream and waking up with reality.” 

“You’re the loveliest dream I could ever have,” Callum says without hesitation, and the words are from the writer in him. “It’s only my absolute pleasure that I get to keep that dream when I wake up too, because you are lovelier this morning than you have ever been.”

They fall into silence for a second as the words settle into the air and the longer it is, the more Callum’s sure he’s said something stupid, ruined this before it’s time. He’s about to open his mouth to apologise but Ben leans forward to press their lips together instead. It’s a blissful kiss - harsh and full of something that Callum doesn’t dare put a name to, but it feels big . When they pull away, Ben’s eyes fall onto his again and there’s so much there. 

“Thought you said you weren’t a writer,” he says after a minute. “That was quite a line.” 

“Only for you,” Callum says before he can think about it, then coughs when the words actually hit him. “And I ain’t a writer. Just a hobby.” 

“Don’t mean it always has to be just that,” he replies and Callum laughs. 

“Look, if I can’t run a mildly successful bookshop I shouldn’t be giving up the day job to pursue something I might well be terrible at. You have no idea.” 

“The shop ain’t that bad,” Ben says, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Pulled me in, didn’t you?” 

“You sure that was the shop and not the company behind the counter?” Callum replies and it’s a joke when he says it, but it doesn’t feel so much like a joke from the way that Ben looks at him. 

“You know me too well,” he says. “Don’t even really like books.”

Callum pauses, sitting up a little and raising his eyebrows across the bed at Ben. “I’m sorry, you what now?” 

Ben’s eyes widen. “What? I ain’t much of a reader. I’d read anything you wrote though.” 

“That is a travesty,” Callum sighs and Ben laughs. "Don't laugh! How can you not like books?" 

"Alright fine, maybe I like some books," Ben replies. "But I got a reputation to uphold so if I tell you this, you gotta keep your trap shut, yeah?" 

Callum smiles until Ben raises his eyebrows at him, so he makes a locking gesture by his mouth. 

"I like romance, like the proper cheesy stuff," he says and it feels sincere, honest. "You ever read any John Green?" 

"Too sad for me," Callum replies. "I like happy endings, me. Everyone deserves a happy ending." 

There's a moment after he says it where their eyes connect again and it feels like there's something unsaid in that moment. It flickers to the front of Callum's mind and maybe he's hopeful, but he thinks he can see it in Ben's eyes too. 

Maybe we deserve a happy ending. 

"Don't know about that," Ben says. "I ain't seen many happy endings." 

"Doesn't mean they ain't coming. You just have to wait for them sometimes- wait for the right person." 

Ben pauses for a minute, and his eyes gleam. "You believe in soulmates?" 

Callum sighs, because isn't that a question? "I don't know. I think it's too scary that there's supposed to be one person who'll know you better than anyone, you know? Someone who knows all that and still wants to stay." 

"I get that," Ben sighs and he turns to look at the ceiling again. "I get that. But for the record, I ain't seen anything wrong with ya."

(Even that feels something more than Callum could possibly deserve from Ben.) 

"Thank you," he whispers instead, and Ben offers him a sort of half smile, before the sounds of his stomach rumbling break the silence. 

"Oh, fucking starving I am." 

"I'll go grab something," Callum says, moving the duvet back straight away as much as he doesn't want this little bubble to end. 

"No, no, you stay there," Ben replies, pushing him down with a gentle hand on his shoulder and throwing the cover back over him. "I'll sort it." 

"But-" 

"Just chill, will you?" Ben laughs. "Tryin' to be a gentleman over here." 

The feeling that surges through him at that is so much that he wants to cry out, smile until his cheeks burn from it because he’s happy , and feeling like this is still so novel. It’s a feeling that builds up, threatens to overwhelm him and he wants to let it- he would, if he wasn’t so afraid of Ben seeing just how much this makes him feel. He settles instead for offering Ben a small smile as he wanders out of the room, throwing himself back into the cushions when he leaves. 

It’s interrupted by a knock at the front door, and for a second Callum’s tempted to just open the window and shout at whoever it is to leave him alone . He’s so content to just exist right here, exist in a fantasy land for now, and maybe this feels like the truth coming knocking. 

Ben’s head pops around the door again, eyebrows raised. 

“You know who that is?” he asks, and Callum shakes his head. “Fine, I’ll get breakfast, you get the door. Don’t be long though, yeah?” 

The addition of that brings in the possibility that maybe it burns just as much for Ben as it does for him to be more than six feet away from each other. Even the possibility, the mere thought that someone could be that desperate to be with him sets his heart off racing again. 

Callum nods again because words escape him, too difficult to push past the lump in his throat, and Ben smiles before he leaves the room again. 

By the time Callum makes it back to the outside door, whoever it is has knocked three more times, and the idea of real life returning comes back every time. It leaves his chest tight but then he catches sight of Ben standing in his kitchen, spreading what looks like jam across a slice of toast and the knot loosens again. That effect should maybe scare him but it doesn’t. It tugs at him a little, distantly, but it’s not fear. 

He takes a breath- the threat of real life doesn’t feel quite so scary if he can convince himself that Ben will still be there. Callum pulls open the door and everything feels easy-

Until it doesn’t. Until the sight of more reporters than he’s ever seen in one place registers. Until the flashing of a thousand cameras burns behind his eyes, and nothing makes sense. He throws the door shut again, and the sound rattles through the flat. 

“Cal?” Ben calls from the kitchen, butterknife still in his hand. “You okay? What is it?”

The words stick in Callum’s throat again. There’s almost no question about what this is about. Someone must have seen Ben come in yesterday. For a moment Callum almost doesn’t want to say anything, wants to let the two of them live in blissful ignorance for a moment longer. But he should have known things are never that simple, because Ben grins at him like he’s got something planned. 

“What is it?” he asks again, running to put a hand on the door. Callum goes to stop him, wants so desperately to be able to just pull him away from it, hide him away from everything that’s going on but he’s not that powerful and his body's gone rigid. 

The door opens again, and he closes his eyes. The cameras flash. The people shout. 

The door closes, and life carries on outside, the sounds of movement just slipping through the little space between the bottom of the door and the ground. 

Life just- stops inside, though. Pauses right where it is, and if only that could be forever. 

The moment ends, though, just like every other one before it. 

“Did you do this?” Ben asks, and his voice is quiet, angry, scared in the almost-silence. It’s an accusation but it almost doesn't feel like one. No, it’s more of a question, fuelled by the hope of one answer but the acknowledgement of the inevitability of the other. But more than any of that, it’s the certainty with which it’s said - as if it’s not even a question - that burns. It’s the way Ben’s already resigned to it in the moment that’s passed. 

It makes him wonder how many times this has happened before- how many times someone has promised devotion to Ben only to sell him out for fifteen minutes in the spotlight. 

“Ben- no , of course not,” he replies, forcing his voice to calm because this isn’t about him. 

“ Of course not? ” Ben half growls , and he turns on Callum. “ Of course not ? Well who did then, ‘cause I certainly fucking didn’t!” 

“Ben-”

The other man ignores him, racing back into the flat. Callum follows him and it feels too real, like the dream is finally fading and it’s all he can do to cling to the last parts of it. 

“What, you really think that half of the journalists in fucking London just woke up this morning and thought, hey, what about a trip to the East End? Sure we can find a fucking story there!”

“Ben, just- just calm down a minute, yeah?” 

The other man freezes right where he’s stood and time stops again. It’s like a cruel reminder, these moments where everything is just stuck- it’s like something taunting him, saying look at what you could have had . 

“ Calm down? ” Ben says, his voice quiet and it feels deadly. He turns slowly and Callum can’t help but feel like he’s a criminal waiting to be condemned. Suddenly Ben’s smiling but it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t fill Callum’s chest with the same warmth it usually does. It feels dangerous, cruel. “ Calm down, yeah? What the fuck do you know, Callum?” 

“Ben-” 

“No, come on then, tell me how it is, mister big shot ,” Ben replies, and the way that his eyes water betrays the look of anger that burns there. The words burn somewhere deep in Callum’s chest but not as much as that look. “Tell me how it is, if you know so much.”

The silence feels deadly and everything’s slipping but it’s not a quick break. It’s like watching everything he’s ever wanted slip like the sand in an hourglass - inevitable, unstoppable. 

“I can’t, you know I can’t,” Callum says, his voice barely a whisper. “But just- please -”

“Yeah, exactly Callum. You can’t ,” he replies. “You don’t know shit about my world, so don’t you fucking dare pretend like you do.” 

They’re in silence again and it’s building up, it’s a tide rushing against them and he’s drowning. Ben’s still for a second and their eyes meet. Callum’s heart races just like the first time, except now the look he finds there looks like betrayal, and it hurts. 

“I trusted you,” Ben says a second later and oh . His voice is quiet, careful like he’s trying desperately to hold back and it breaks Callum, the look in his eyes. Because he must not be the first- Ben must be used to this kind of betrayal. "Fucking idiot, ain't I?" 

" I didn't do this , Ben," he replies and it's so close to begging but Callum can't find it in himself to care. 

“ Safe here, am I?” Ben asks as if the last words haven’t even registered. It hurts, hearing the words that Callum meant with everything in him being used like salt in the wound but some part of him still feels like he deserves it- like all of this is just some kind of divine punishment for believing that he could have this for real. “I need to go.” 

The thought of Ben disappearing again, leaving the four walls that have been protecting them makes hot panic burn through Callum’s blood. It’s like something in him knows that, if Ben walks out that door this morning Callum will never see him again and this fairytale that he’s been hanging on to will be over. It’s what he should expect, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt . 

“ Please ,” Callum says just as Ben turns his back on him. He freezes, and the plea echoes through the silence of the room. “We can- we can fix this- I can fix this.”

“How?” Ben replies and the anger has been replaced with exhaustion, like all of this was inevitable. Like he can’t see a way out of this. Neither can Callum, really, but that’s not the point- it doesn’t mean he’s not going to try . 

“ Somehow,” he says, for lack of a better answer. “I don’t know, but- me and you, yeah? We’ll be okay.” 

Callum doesn’t even realise he’s started crying until the taste of salt hits his lips, and the damp tracks down his cheeks finally register. It probably just makes him look even more desperate but it doesn’t feel like there’s much point in hiding it now, not when Ben refuses to look at him anyway. 

“There ain’t no me and you, Callum,” Ben says a minute later and the words burn hot in his chest, leaving him breathless for a second. “Not any more.” 

“Ben-” 

“I need to go,” he says again, and it feels final in such a way that’s absolutely terrifying. 

It hits Callum in a heart-wrenching moment of clarity that he doesn’t have the words to stop him, that he doesn’t know how to fix this any more. It’s over, for good. 

He thought he was ready, but this doesn’t feel like the inevitable event that he’d been anticipating. Maybe because he’d never anticipated falling like this, falling so completely and devastatingly.

There’s silence between them for a minute, and it feels like the longest of Callum’s life. Still, it’s over too soon and from the second Ben takes a step towards the door he’s begging for that moment back. 

Callum’s frozen as Ben walks away. 

Days pass- or, well. Months, seasons. Life runs by before his eyes with what’s probably too much ease. Sleep doesn’t come as easily any more, and finding a little smile in the little things is harder. It’s confusing, because it’s not like Callum didn’t warn himself. 

The whole time they were together it was a dream, a little taste of a life that he knew he could never really have. Ben’s life moved so much faster than his, burnt so much brighter. Ben was someone, where Callum was just- well, no one. It feels like something screaming I told you so from the back of his mind, every time he wakes up and misses being wrapped in Ben’s arms. He never would have been able to stay with someone like him - he’s only lucky that it happened, that Ben stuck around so long. 

Callum sees him in the news sometimes. He looks happy, accomplished. He’s been with a new guy, Charlie, and everyone’s speculating about the two of them since they worked on a film together.

(He tries to ignore the way that burns something awful in his chest, because jealousy is an ugly feeling and one that he absolutely doesn’t deserve to have. Ben was never really his, anyway). 

Mick tries to set him up a few times. Blokes that he sees from work, that guy he’d got talking to in a coffee shop with the perfect blonde hair and the too-perfect teeth. It all comes from a good place, Callum knows all of that. Mick cares about him like no one else ever has, and it’s a special feeling. The last thing he wants to do is let the man down, so he goes without argument. More often than not it ends with a fake smile and a little shrug, and Callum wishing that he could possibly be anyone else. 

He even ends up in a bar once, which isn’t exactly a frequent occurrence. It’s for a date that never turns up - or one that had maybe come to the door, seen Callum and left - and so he ends up drowning his sorrows in one too many shots. He hates getting drunk but it’s not like that - he’s not drinking to feel the buzz, or the feeling of not being able to see straight. Callum drinks because it feels like there’s nothing better to do. When the barmaid comes back and asks if he’d like another, he finds there isn’t an answer to why not and so it just happens, until he doesn’t know how many shots she’s served him. At least then the uncomfortable feeling starts to fade - the one that leaves him too small for his own body, too out of place wherever he is. 

Callum later finds himself in the middle of the dancefloor, not quite sure how he got there. His arms and legs move without permission and he’s not quite sure what he’s doing but it keeps that feeling at bay, so he doesn’t stop. He gets lost there instead, another face in the crowd and there’s comfort in that anonymity. 

Things are starting to fade until that song comes on. 

It feels too slow for a club, but it’s been popular lately. In some film, so naturally it’s been all anyone’s been playing. It’s like slow torture, but Callum never really has the willpower to turn off the radio. 

(There’s a thought of deserving the hurt that comes with that - something that feels too much to think about right now.)

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart 

It feels almost unfair- all the people around him, they’re dancing to that song, to his and Ben’s song, the one that always takes him back to that night and yet Callum’s stood here alone. He wants to shout, to scream and tell just someone this is our song, this is for us but he can’t, because there is no us anymore. Young lovers dance to it, people too naive to understand how complicated love can be and yet Callum yearns for that youthful innocence, when love was easy and it was right around the corner. When love was in holding hands around the school playground or sharing a blushing kiss behind the trees in the park, or when love was only complicated in the songs they played on the radio late at night.

Once again, he’s yearning for something he never had. 

Without saying a word

You can light up the dark 

And oh, that’s what Ben did. Lit up the life of someone who wasn’t worthy, just for a little time. He’d accepted that, and yet Callum’s stood here listening to the soft guitar and it burns like nothing else. It’s selfish really, to assume he’s worth more of Ben’s time than that. 

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me

There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me

He’d thought all of that once. But love is a naive thing, something that his bruised heart had slipped only too easy into. 

You say it best

Somehow, in that moment as the song plays out into the club, when he’s surrounded by people on all sides and lost in the crowd-

When you say nothing at all

-he’s never felt more alone.

When he hears Ben’s name again, it’s like a distant memory. Something that’s faded to a hazy daydream- it’s a beautiful once upon a time but nothing more than that. 

It’s odd when Lee brings him up. 

They don’t talk about things like this often but of course he knew. He was a part of the high and inevitable low that comes with secrets like this - the rush of keeping them, of stolen kisses and moments that don’t belong to anyone else. Because as much as Callum likes to think he can hide behind an easy smile and a smooth change of subject, he’s an open book to those that care enough to see it. 

(Ben did, and he held the pages with such reverence, like they were important to him even if just for a while.)

But it’s been a slow day on top of a slow week and the heat of the early afternoon makes everything feel slow and heavy, and that defense slips a little. 

“Ben’s back in town,” he says, stacking books out from boxes while he talks as if it’s just a conversation about the weather. Their eyes never meet, and Callum’s wondering if it’s some sort of test. But maybe it’s a courtesy, an allowance - you don’t have to pretend right now. 

“Is he?” Callum says after a while, eyes similarly trained unseeing on the desk and documents in front of him. He’s going for nonchalant, but it’s almost certainly anything but. “I haven’t really been keeping up.” 

“Yeah, he’s filming for some movie I think,” Lee replies. “Bit different from what he usually does, I’ve heard.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, some cheesy romance based on an old book.” 

And oh, Callum’s found it happens like this sometimes. Certain words, certain things just throw him back, leave him stranded in his once upon a time that never really was. For example right now, and the thought of romance-

"I like romance, like the proper cheesy stuff," he says and it feels sincere, honest. "You ever read any John Green?" 

"Too sad for me," Callum replies. "I like happy endings, me. Everyone deserves a happy ending." 

There's a moment after he says it where their eyes connect again and it feels like there's something unsaid in that moment. It flickers to the front of Callum's mind and maybe he's hopeful, but he thinks he can see it in Ben's eyes too. 

Maybe we deserve a happy ending. 

The memory plays out hazy now, as if a dream and oh, how much easier it would be if it was. 

“Callum?” Lee calls a minute later, bringing him back. “You alright? You’ve gone quiet.” 

“What? Oh yeah, uh, fine, just-” he replies, shifting some papers around as if he’s not just been reminded , as if he’s not just had his most painful what if play out in front of his eyes. “Thinking.”  

“My mate is a runner on the set,” Lee says, turning to look at Callum for the first time. Callum doesn’t look back, but it feels like the gaze burns into the side of his head, feeling too much like scrutiny. “He said you could come down tomorrow if you wanted, look around.”

He could see Ben again. 

All the breath leaves his chest in a second, one huge rush. Because this is what he’s been waiting for, isn’t it? That catching eyes across the room moment, when everything falls into place and it’s just right . That time when he could meet Ben’s eyes and in a second everything would be right, and he’d just walk across to him and tell him every thought he’s had for the past six months. Every lonely night, every time the thoughts of Ben and them just came rushing back, every time it felt like too much, every time it felt like that was it- his one chance. 

And Ben would watch, and he’d listen, and he’d tell Callum he’d thought every one of those things too.

And he’d lean in, and their eyes would catch. 

And then they’d close, and then- 

And then- 

Except that’s a fairytale ending, isn’t it? And Callum’s learnt better than to believe in fairytales. 

The next thing he knows Callum’s on the floor behind the desk, Lee by his side. The man looks at him with worry in his eyes and it feels like too much. 

“That’s it mate, you’re alright,” he says. It’s a practiced routine, but that doesn’t stop the sour taste in Callum’s mouth when he realises. Embarrassment grows in his stomach and he can feel the blush as it floods across his cheeks. 

“M’fine,” he says but it leaves him panting a little nonetheless, still too little breath in his chest. 

“I know,” Lee replies, because this is just part of that same routine. “Humour me. Just breathe nice and slow, yeah?” 

Callum nods and follows the instruction. When he digs his fingernails into his palm a little too hard Lee takes his hand, squeezes it tight- another all too familiar action. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t try to push Callum to explain and that’s how Lee’s always been with him, and he’s always been grateful for it. 

“I ain’t trying to pressure you, you know,” Lee says after a minute. “I don’t blame you if you can’t handle it.” 

“No, I,” he starts, then pauses, takes a breath. “I get it, it’s just- I don’t know .” 

Lee offers him a small smile, and squeezes his hand. “It’s alright, Callum. The offer’s there anyway, whatever you wanna do.” 

“Thank you,” Callum replies, and as much as he can’t force himself to say it, it’s for so much more than what it sounds like. 

“No worries,” Lee says and nods slightly, like he understands. Callum reckons he actually does. 

Callum doesn’t sleep that night. 

Moonlight casts tall shadows across the room, mapping out memories in the darkness, things that he’ll tell himself he’s not thought about for months. They race before him like a film on fast forward, snapshots of a life that Callum can only wish he could have lived. 

Except now- 

Now there’s tomorrow - or more likely today , given the height of the moon in the sky. There’s a hope that flickers somewhere deep in Callum’s chest, right beside his heart. It’s a foolish thing maybe, to think that just by seeing him again everything could change but his heart has always been a little naive. Oh, and it feels good - even the thought sends his stomach rushing with that flickering feeling of first dates, as if that’s what tomorrow would be. As if it’s not meeting with the man who broke his heart- who, once upon a time he dreamed of an impossible future with. 

Really though, the indecisiveness is a defense, some way to try and trick his own mind into thinking that he’s not still gone for him.

He’ll wake up tomorrow morning and act like he’s still unsure, as if the answer wasn’t clear from the second the option was presented. He’ll try and convince himself he can live with it, live with not knowing what could have happened if he’d gone to that set, if he’d seen Ben.  

And then Callum will realise, of course, that he can’t. That there’s no hope of moving on with the weight of that what if clawing at his chest. 

He sighs into the darkness, watching the same patch of ceiling he’s been watching all night. The decision is made. 

Callum still doesn’t sleep that night.

Nothing feels right when he walks to the set the next morning. 

It’s kind of like being ten years old again, walking around in Stuart’s still too big hand-me-downs because he couldn’t find any other clothes to wear- it's a feeling like you’re drowned out by the weight of everyone else, collapsing under the pressure of everything. 

There’s people rushing about everywhere, talking to each other at a mile a minute and carrying boxes and pieces of equipment and Callum’s just drowned out amongst it all. Usually that’s where he wants to be - just there but not the centre of attention - but right now it leaves him feeling like a livewire. The fact that he didn’t sleep at all last night probably doesn’t help, but when it came to leaving the house this morning the prospect of Ben was just- too much. Maybe it’s stupid, that after all this time the man still seems to have this all-powerful hold over him. Scratch that- Callum knows it’s stupid but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like Ben is the only one that can teach him how to breathe normally again. 

One foot in front of the other, he reminds himself, and God, it’s pathetic. 

He finds himself standing next to a temporary railing just at the edge of the set a second later and pulls his phone out almost on instinct. Callum’s not sure his brain is functioning enough for actual conversation right now and it seems to be the perfect deterrent, although with the way people are moving around him he’s not entirely sure it’s necessary. Either they don’t think he’s worth the time of day or they just don’t see him - neither of which would be a massive surprise, he’s used to being looked through - because no one bothers him. He stands there until ten minutes past the time that he’s supposed to meet this guy before he’s vibrating out of his own skin and he shoots a text off to Lee.

Callum: who exactly am i looking for here? he’s not turned up [10:40am]

Lee: hold on [10:42am]

Lee: told me he’s running late, he’s just coming now [10:44am]

Lee: honestly looks a bit like you with a better haircut [10:44am]

Lee is familiar and the way he talks settles something in Callum’s stomach. Despite everything, there’s a smile creeping at the edge of his mouth as he replies. 

Callum: fuck off. still look better than you [10:45am]

Lee: debatable [10:45am]

“‘S’cuse me,” a voice says next to him and Callum jumps. “You ain’t Callum, by any chance?” 

He looks up and a man dressed almost entirely in black stands next to him. There’s a lanyard around his neck that reads CREW with an ID badge attached to it, and when Callum looks up, he’s smiling at him. The man is a little shorter than him but not by much, with strikingly similar brown hair and Callum can sort of see what Lee’s talking about. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah that’s me,” he replies, putting on a smile and holding out his hand. “You’re Lee’s mate, then?” 

“Everyone calls me Fitzy,” he grins. “Weird nickname, I know, but it kinda stuck.” 

“Ain’t the weirdest I’ve heard, mate, trust me,” Callum replies, and the other man - Fitzy - shakes his outstretched hand. “I’ve been called Halfway most my life. I assume Lee came up with yours?” 

Fitzy’s face scrunches up when he smiles, and he lets out a little laugh. “Yeah, yeah he did. Look, it’s kinda chaotic here today but I can give you a bit or a tour if you like? Ben’s probably gonna be around somewhere, I imagine we’ll run into him.”

And just like that, he’s breathless again. 

Callum desperately wishes he could be paying attention right now. Fitzy turns out to be a lovely bloke, genuinely friendly and endearingly excited as he rattles off little facts and tidbits of information as they pass through different parts of the set, but Callum’s sleepwalking through the whole thing, something in him hoping that Ben will appear around every corner they turn. 

He doesn’t, and then when that happens there’s this complicated mix of feelings that flutter like butterflies in Callum’s stomach. Not the beautiful kind though - not the ones that he somehow still remembers from the first time they went out together, the ones brought about by the way Ben looked at Callum, as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be looking - the kind that leave him nauseous and all too exposed. 

“Sorry, I hope I ain’t boring you,” Fitzy says a second later and it’s only then that Callum realises the other man has turned to face him. There’s a little frown on his face, like he can see right through the smile that Callum plasters on.

“Not at all, mate,” he replies. “Just- didn’t sleep great, that’s all.” 

Fitzy watches him for a minute, and he can’t help but squirm under what feels a little too much like scrutiny. “My girlfriend, she- uh, she follows all that celeb gossip. I remember seeing you and Ben in some magazine she likes.” 

It’s not as though Callum’s unaware of the fact that him and Ben were the gossip world’s biggest scandal for at least a month, but the reminder of the fact that his face was plastered in magazines for God knows how long leaves his skin crawling. “Listen-” 

“I ain’t saying to judge or anything,” he says quickly, eyes wide. “I- I hate when they do all that, like paparazzi shit, is all I wanted to say. They’re just people, really. I’m just- sorry you got caught up in it as well. And for what it’s worth, I’m sure Ben is too.” 

Even after all of it, the only thing Callum can think is that the last thing he wants is for Ben to be sorry for any of it. 

Because he’s not- despite everything, Callum knows the last thing he’ll ever be is sorry that it happened. Sure, right now it feels a little like there’s a black hole in the middle of his chest, just this great gaping emptiness but all of it’s worth it just for the memory of waking up next to Ben. 

“Thanks,” he says anyway, because nothing else quite fits. Fitzy nods and offers him a small smile. 

“‘Course,” Fitzy replies, then turns to point at a group of cabins a little way away from them. “If he’s anywhere around, he’ll probably be in there. I’ll show you.” 

Fitzy leads them over to the little cluster of trailers, where even more crew are bustling about and chatting to each other. “These mostly belong to the main cast and crew, like the important people basically. They can nap in there, or read lines or whatever, it’s where they spend most of their downtime if they’re not filming. S’why it’s the best bet of finding Ben, he spends most of his time in there-”

It’s literally as though the universe is laughing at him. 

Almost the second Fitzy says his name, the door to one of the trailers swings open and Ben steps out, almost immediately accosted by several crew members. 

Honestly, Callum would laugh if it didn’t feel as though his whole chest stopped working the minute he saw Ben. 

They don’t catch eyes straight away. At first, Ben is preoccupied talking to one of the crew who must ask him a question because he nods a second later. Then he's walking away from the cabin and it almost looks as though Ben's walking over and it only takes that for Callum's heart to start racing- 

Except then their eyes connect and oh- 

Everything else fades away. They're the only peple in the world again, just like it used to be - Ben always seems to be capable of making him feel like that.

In those first few seconds, the only thing Callum wants to do is cross the space between them - the space that right now feels like nothing at all - and reacquaint himself with Ben. Maybe if he was brave enough he could do it - walk over there and bury his hands in Ben's hair, kiss him like nothing else matters and remind himself of what it's like to be loved. He likes to think Ben would kiss him back - maybe he would rest his hands at the base of Callum's jaw, and maybe he would let his thumbs smoothe over Callum's skin like he was something to be treasured. 

Maybe if Callum was brave enough they'd kiss as though nothing else mattered. But- what then?

Once they've pulled away and the rest of the world exists again, what becomes of them? 

Most likely, Callum fades to anonymity again - Ben goes back to his world, he goes back to his. It seems they're forever destined to be perfect strangers. 

He comes back to himself and there's a world between them. 

"You alright, mate?" Fitzy says a second later and he almost doesn't hear it. Someone near Ben nudges him and says something else, to which he nods and looks away, and that's it.

"Sorry," he replies and suddenly the place is suffocating and he just needs to leave. "Sorry, I- I realised- I've gotta go. Sorry." 

Fitzy frowns at him but Callum doesn't give him the chance to say anything. He feels eyes on him as he walks away, and they don’t feel like Fitzy’s.

Still, he doesn’t look back. 

Lee: Fitzy texted me [11:32am]

Lee: i know you ran off. i’m sorry [11:32am]

Lee: i’m at Dads, come round for a pint yeah? [12:42pm]

Lee: mum’s fretting, it’s getting annoying [12:42pm]

Lee: istg she loves you more than us half the time [12:43pm]

Lee: Callum? [15:53pm]

Lee: whenever you wanna talk, i’m here [16:13pm]

The bell above the shop chimes in the evening, when the streets are quieter and life packs away for the night. It feels like an odd time to shop, but Callum’s not one to judge. 

“Evening,” he says, his voice quiet because it feels like he’s disturbing the peace otherwise. He doesn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes on the paperwork in front of him. 

“Alright?” 

Callum’s heart stops, because he knows that voice, he recognises the way that it rings through him and sends a shiver down his spine - a purely visceral reaction. 

He looks up and Ben’s stood there, offering him a small smile. 

“ Oh, ” Callum says, but it’s more of a rapid exhale since he’s apparently just learnt how to breathe again. “Ben. You’re- here . ”

“Yeah, I am,” Ben replies. “That alright?” 

“I’m not sure,” Callum whispers. Nothing feels sure any more, apart from the fact this feels like a moment- like a stepping off point. 

Like a crossroads. 

“You ain’t got someone else hiding in the shelves have you?” Ben smirks but even that feels like he’s playing pretend, because maybe he feels it too - this feeling of finality. 

“Think Lee might be round back somewhere, but he’s nothing to worry about,” Callum replies and it’s stupid curtesy, an attempt to make this feel like it’s normal. 

Ben laughs anyway, short and stilted and they lapse into heavy silence. It threatens to bury them, suffocating until there’s nothing left. 

“Ben, I-”

“I wanted to ask you-” 

Their voices overlap, too loud in the silence and they both break into awkward laughter, both looking down at their feet. 

“You first,” Callum says, offering the other man a small smile.

Ben nods, then takes a breath. All of a sudden there’s a rush in Callum, something that begs him to stop Ben before he can talk, if only so they can just exist in this moment a little longer. What use is that, though - delaying the inevitable?

(That’s what he’s been doing this whole time.)

"It was nice seeing you yesterday," Ben says a moment later and his voice shakes when he speaks, more than Callum's ever heard it shake. "Sorry I didn't get to say hi- we were- uh- busy." 

Callum sees the avoidance for what it is but doesn't call him out on it - instead he just nods and turns back to the counter, desperate to hide the way his hands start to shake. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Ben says, once the silence has become suffocating.

“Of course,” Callum replies, even though something in his chest begs him not to. 

“I just- well, I was just thinking,” he starts, then stops. 

“Dangerous.” 

“Shut up,” Ben smiles and it feels the nearest to genuine he’s seen in forever. “I was just- packing, the other day. ‘Cause we wrapped up filming and stuff, so I’ve gotta leave tomorrow. And I was just wondering if- maybe I didn’t. Have to leave, I mean.” 

Hope sears bright like a brand right in the centre of Callum’s chest, but it’s accompanied by this sinking feeling, the one that only leads to that air of finality. 

“If maybe I could- stay with you, for a little while,” Ben says. “Or a long while.” 

Callum’s breathless, hoping beyond hope but asking why, why, why-

The other man takes a breath, shuddering, and their eyes meet again. “Maybe see if you could like me again.” 

And God, it feels like cruel fate- like a joke, like a dream where everything works out perfectly. 

Like a fairytale. 

Except it’s not- this isn’t a fairytale, because he’s long since finished believing in those. 

Maybe Callum once believed there was a happy ending out there for them someday, maybe there used to be something in him that could believe that. 

But this, right now, with Ben standing in front of him- it’s too much like harsh reality, and maybe happy endings don’t exist in this world, or at least not for him. 

But this- 

( It’s everything he’s ever wanted- )

It feels like there’s only one way this can go, only one way it can end. 

( It’s everything he’s ever wanted. )

“Ben, I-”

( It’s everything he’s ever wanted. )

“Can I just- say no?”

Ben barely flinches, and nods a little instead. It’s his eyes that give it away- before there was this little glimmer there, a shine in them that held hope, that held promise, maybe. It fades the second Callum opens his mouth, leaving behind a duller blue than before. Still though, they’re by far the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. 

“It’s not- I just,” Callum starts. It takes a second for his mind to recover and he realises he doesn’t have an excuse, doesn’t have any reasoning. The only thing he does have is the way his heart races, beats almost out of his chest as if it’s reaching for Ben. 

“It’s just- not right,” Ben says eventually, offering Callum a small smile. “Hey, I get it.” 

“No- Ben, just-” Callum rushes out when Ben almost turns, as if he’s going to leave. Maybe it’s a sign of something, a sign that he’s doing this wrong but the only thing that feels clear right now is that he doesn’t want Ben to leave yet. “Just- let me explain, please.”

Ben stands for a minute and they’re stuck in this stalemate, staring each other down. The six feet between them feels like six miles now, like a lifetime that neither of them will ever know. 

They’re both standing at the crossroads, trying to figure out which way to go. 

“I- uh. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for six months, Ben,” Callum starts, because there’s no clear path out of this but honesty feels like the best start, as much as it hurts . “It’s been- six months , of- of not knowing what to do with myself. Of picking up the phone every time it rang because somewhere in my head I’d convinced myself it would be you. Six months of trying to convince myself I could live without you.” 

Callum watches the way Ben’s face changes, relaxes and tenses again as he speaks. He thinks that maybe the thing that’s shining in Ben’s eyes now is guilt, but he’s not too sure. 

“And I know it sounds stupid but that’s- that’s what it was like, Ben,” he says. “And I- I just got over you.”

“What if I-” Ben starts, then takes a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “What if I don’t want you to- get over me?” 

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. 

“I have to,” Callum replies. “You’re- we’re too different, Ben. You’re- you’re Ben Mitchell, you walk into any place and you belong because people see you, people notice you. And I’m just- me, the guy from the bookshop down the road that no one really goes into.” 

“I see you,” Ben says and his voice cracks, just a little and Callum’s breaking into pieces. “ I see you, Callum.” 

“Who else does, though?” 

It’s honesty at its truest, it’s the thing that lodged itself in Callum’s mind from the first time they touched, the first time his eyes met Ben’s and it felt right . It’s his comfort and his deepest fear, this feeling of being unknown, the only thing he can hold onto for dear life sometimes. 

This- it feels like offering up a piece of his soul to Ben, in the hopes that he’ll take it and that that will be enough for Callum’s heart to stop aching like this. 

“I don’t- I’m not saying it for pity, Ben,” Callum whispers a minute later. “I’m being honest, because it feels like that’s all I can do around you.” 

“ I love you, then,” Ben replies and it leaves him breathless. “If we’re being honest.” 

“You love me for now,” Callum says. It feels like he’s a puppet, held on strings that are slowly fraying apart and if Ben stays much longer he’s going to break. “And I wouldn’t ask any more of you.” 

Ben nods slowly and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Their eyes don’t meet any more and it feels like slowly watching someone slip away from you, connection by connection. It started with the space between them and it’ll end with the closing of that door. 

He turns around and something in Callum screams for him to reach out, to not let Ben get away but he’s frozen, paralyzed. Ben stops for a second, and takes a breath. 

“You know it’s all bullshit, right?” he says, his voice quiet. “The fame thing. Sure they might- think they see me, if they pass me in the street, or watch me in an interview or something. But you see me, Callum. For real.” 

“I’m sorry,” Callum replies, because it feels like that’s all he can say. He’s apologising for a million things, but most of all-

I’m sorry I couldn’t be right. 

“Like now,” Ben says, almost oblivious. “You think I’m acting, playing out some scene. But really it’s just me.”

Callum’s shattering. 

“I’m just a man, standing in front of you, asking you to love me.” 

There’s nothing left to say. 

Ben nods once more, then pulls the door open and steps out into the dying sun. 

The bell above it chimes as he goes- an ending. 

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. 

Ben is everything Callum’s ever wanted, and he’s watching him walk out the door. 

“So he just- left then, did he? After that.” 

Callum’s holding a beer in hands that still shake, that still long to reach out and find Ben there waiting for him. His brain knows he won’t be there but his heart hasn’t understood yet, so there’s still that need that crawls under his skin- like pure, primal instinct, like the only thing he really needs is to be able to hold Ben, and everything will settle again. 

He can’t, though. Because Callum told him to leave. He told him no . 

Ben could be anywhere right now. 

(Callum tries to tell himself he doesn’t care but it only lasts a second- it’s unconvincing even to his own ears.)

“Yeah,” he replies when Mick nudges his arm, waiting for a response. The man watches him with careful eyes, something behind them that Callum can’t quite work out.  “Yeah, I told him I just couldn’t- do it, ya know? Gotta learn to move on, ain’t I?” 

He looks up to Mick who nods slowly. “Sounds sensible, boy.” 

“Yeah?” 

“‘Course, you know what’s best for ya, anyways,” he replies. “Bit cocky for my taste anyway.” 

“And mine,” Linda chips in from beside Mick. “And all those months after him, I hate seeing you look so sad.” 

“Had that kicked puppy look mastered, kid!” 

Callum forces a smile, still holding tight to the bottle in front of him. “I am sorry about all of that, by the way. I know I ain’t exactly been a delight to be around the past few months."

“Nonsense, boy,” Mick says, laying a hand on his arm. “You’re always a delight to be around. Just glad you- uh, made a decision.”

It’s that - the little hint of hesitation in Mick’s voice when he speaks - that makes Callum pause, finally. 

“You- you do think I’ve made the right decision, don’t you?” he asks. His heart and head both yearn for an answer but Callum’s not sure which they’re looking for. 

Before he can get one though, the door to the Vic swings open behind him, catching Mick’s attention. Callum turns to find Stuart standing there, a confused look on his face. 

“Here, Stu,” Mick calls. “Your brother’s growing up, he is. Just turned down that Mitchell bloke.”

There’s a pause for a second while Stuart takes in the words, before his face morphs into one of utter exasperation. 

“You daft prick. ” 

(Something surges through Callum - stupidly, it feels like hope .)

“Oi! What’s that for?” he asks. 

“Bruv, I love ya mate,” Stuart sighs. “But you’re as dim as a broken lightbulb sometimes. What’d you go and do that for?” 

“Nah, Stu- listen,” Mick jumps in, although it sounds somewhat halfhearted. “It was a really sensible decision actually-”

“ You’re in love with the bloke, for fuck’s sake!” Stuart says, a second away from grabbing Callum’s shoulders and shaking them. “What are you doing turning him away?” 

“I’m not in love ,” Callum says but even as the words slip from his mouth they feel like a betrayal, like a disgrace to all those moonlit memories- because if that wasn’t love, then Callum’s not sure what love's supposed to feel like. 

“What did you say to him then?” Stuart says, eyebrows raised. 

“Well- he came into the shop and- well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to see him standing there, was I? Ain’t like I had time to plan anything to say,” he starts. It feels too soon, like maybe if he relives it now then he’ll regret it, regret ever letting Ben leave his side again, but maybe that’s a sign in itself. “He- I don’t know, he asked me, if maybe I could- see if I could like him again.” 

Stuart’s still watching him with raised eyebrows, and when he turns he finds Mick and Linda waiting there too, anticipation on their faces. 

“And I said- I told him that I’d only just started getting over him, and he said that maybe he didn’t want me to,” Callum continues, his voice almost failing him. “That- that in reality he was just a man, standing there, asking me to love him.” 

The quiet burns as it settles around the pub, heavy with anticipation. Something settles into Callum’s chest and blooms there- a warmth, a promise, maybe. Something formed by the retelling of that story - except it’s not a story, it’s Callum’s very own fairytale.

It’s his very own fairytale, that somehow he’s been missing all along. 

And oh . 

“I made the wrong decision, didn’t I?”

Callum looks up from where his gaze has slipped to watching his own hands ( remembering , seeing them holding Ben, running through his hair) to Stuart, who’s nodding viciously in front of him, then to Mick and Linda, who are suspiciously quiet. 

“Ain’t it too late now though?” Callum says but there’s adrenaline thrumming through him already, even just at the thought of maybe this is possible . 

“Honestly, have you ever seen a rom-com, Halfway?” Linda says out of the blue, watching him expectantly. “Go! Go after him!” 

More than anything has in the past few months, it feels right - the kind of right he’s only ever felt with Ben. 

Because this is his fairytale, and he can’t not fight for it. 

Callum nods, and Mick grabs his hand before he can leave. Their eyes connect for a second and that one look is full of so many unspoken words but it’s just a few that Callum can hear more clearly than the rest-

I’m proud of you, kid. 

When Callum races out the front door of the Vic he’s not even sure where he’s going, just that he needs to find Ben. He’d been blind to it before but right now it feels like the most obvious thing- this isn’t how it’s supposed to end. Where it goes after, he’s not sure- hell, Ben could kick him to the curb still, after all the things he’d said when Ben found him in the shop earlier, but none of it matters. Callum just knows that he has to try, at the very least. 

Distantly, he remembers something about Ben being at a press conference this morning for the film he’s just wrapped at some fancy hotel on the other side of London. He’s out of the Square and onto the main road when he realises how far away that is, and he stutters to a stop. The only thing that feels clear is that he has to get there. There is no other option, no future he can see where he doesn’t get to that conference, doesn’t see Ben, doesn’t even try . It’s stupid, maybe, because he’s the reason Ben’s leaving at all, but there’s no way for him to fix that now. 

Callum’s startled out of his mind by a car horn from next to him. He turns, expecting to find angry commuters in traffic but instead Mick smiles at him out of the window of his car. 

“Get in, son,” he calls, a proud grin on his face. 

Callum smiles back- he can’t not. Maybe this is possible, maybe-

Maybe the hope that flickers in his chest isn’t misplaced.

Callum barely remembers the journey there, just the growing hope that mixes with nerves the closer they get. He remembers the strong hand that Mick lays on his shoulder before he races inside. He doesn’t remember how he manages to get in but suddenly he’s in a room packed with reporters and people standing with cameras, all turned towards a long table at the front of the room. There’s a couple of people sitting in a row in the middle of the table, every so often leaning to whisper to each other. The whole room is filled with action but none of it matters, not when he looks closer to the people sat behind the table and sees-

Ben. 

Callum sees him sitting there, and nothing else matters. Hope makes his heart race, along with the idea that maybe this is possible, maybe this doesn’t have to be it. 

He’s barely acknowledged when he pushes into the crowd, all of the focus on the front table. A man sat next to Ben is talking although Callum has no idea what it is he’s actually saying. By the looks of it, Ben’s not too sure either. His eyes are trained on the table in front of him, his head resting on his fist. It looks as though this is the last place he wants to be right now, and Callum’s not sure he really blames him. 

“Mr Mitchell,” a man from behind him shouts after getting the nod from whoever’s sitting next to him. “How long are you planning to stay in London? Rumor has it you and Mr Browning split up-” 

“Questions about Mr Mitchell’s personal life will not be taken or answered at this time, I trust you all understand that,” the man next to Ben speaks up, his eyes chasing faces around the room, as if challenging them to question it. Nobody does, and there’s a flicker on Ben’s face before he looks up to answer the question. 

“I ain’t staying long,” he says, his voice rough. “Just ‘till this afternoon.” 

The man beside Ben nods and points to another man on the other side of the room, a large notebook in his hands. 

“Yes, Mr Mitchell. Some photos surfaced a little while ago in the papers, of you and a young man in East London-” 

Ben’s manager’s nostrils flare. “ As I said before, questions about Mr Mitchell’s personal life will not be answered-” 

Ben reaches a hand out to the man and whispers something, before he turns to face the audience. Even from where he’s standing, Callum can see how bloodshot his eyes are, how the bags underneath them hang a little despite the makeup that he must have on. “Carry on.” 

The reporter hesitates a moment, before nodding. “Thank you. I was just curious as to the nature of the photos- what happened there?” 

There’s a flicker in Ben’s eyes- something , and it sends a shiver down Callum’s spine. 

“He was just a friend,” he replies. “We’re still friends, I think.” 

It goes quiet for a second and before Callum can stop himself he’s throwing his own hand up in the air. It’s stupid, so stupid but it feels like this is it- like this is his chance. 

The manager looks over to him and points. “Yes, you?” 

Ben’s eyes are trained on the table again until the silence in the room becomes suffocating. Callum can’t quite get the words out, like they settle as a lump in the back of his throat. He’s left breathless, and the manager keeps sending him dirty looks from the table the longer he waits. 

It must get on Ben’s nerves as well because he looks up a second later, searching the crowd for whoever they’re waiting for. Stupidly, Callum still hasn’t put his arm down, hoping that it brings Ben’s eyes over to him, hoping that it gives him something. 

Ben finds him in the crowd and the world stops, just for a second. He’s back to a year ago, when the bell above his shop door rang and the stars aligned- back to when Ben kissed him for the first time by his front door and everything in his life just fit . He thinks maybe Ben is seeing all the same memories when he comes back to the room and the other man’s eyes are wide and almost tearful. 

It’s when he has Ben’s eyes trained on his own that it feels like he can finally speak again. 

“Uh, thank you, Mr Mitchell,” he says, and Mr Mitchell feels so wrong on his tongue, way too formal. “I was just- wondering, maybe, if there would be a circumstance in which the two of you would be more than friends?” 

Ben opens his mouth and Callum can’t breathe-

His manager sighs. “As I’ve already said, Mr Mitchell won’t be answering any questions about-” 

“It’s alright,” Ben says without moving his eyes away. Callum can feel the way the manager glares daggers into the side of his head, but none of it matters, not when Ben takes another breath in. “I was assured there wouldn’t be.” 

“But if-”

“Thank you, Sir,” the manager cuts in again. “But one question only.” 

“Shut it, Ian,” Ben says and a ripple of low laughter surges around the room, much to the manager’s apparent distaste if the dramatic sigh that comes from his direction after is anything to go by. “Yeah?” 

Callum takes a shaky breath, and something about the words that stand on the tip of his tongue feels final. “I was just- uh. I was wondering if maybe, this bloke was told he’d been a- daft prick , so to speak, and raced half way across London to tell you what an idiot he’d been- if maybe you’d reconsider?” 

A single tear slips down Ben’s cheek and it feels like they’re the only people in the room. Callum wishes they were - wishes he’d done this back when Ben came to the shop, wishes they could do this when the room wasn’t filled with reporters and cameras, wishes he could go back and change everything he’d said. There’s so much about the past year that feels like a phantom ache in an old scar but there’s no changing that now. 

There’s just this moment- this breathless, heart stopping wait while Ben watches him, considers his words. 

Ben sighs out a shaky breath, and a smile creeps onto his face like he can’t bear to hold it back any longer. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I would.” 

It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

There’s murmurs going on around him, overlapping confusion from some of the reporters but nothing else matters, not when Ben’s looking at him like that. He leans over to whisper something in Ian’s ear and the man sighs, definitely not looking impressed with the display. He points out at the reporter who had asked the first question. 

“You, ask your question again.” 

The reporter looks around for a second, somewhat confused. “Alright, Mr Mitchell, how long are you planning to stay in London?” 

Ben’s eyes connect with his again and there’s a question in them, as if asking Callum if this is what he really wants. Callum doesn’t have the words right now to explain how much he wants it, how much this is everything he’s ever wanted, so he just nods for now. Perhaps he’ll have the words later. 

Ben nods back, and the smile on his face is the most beautiful thing Callum’s ever seen. 

His eyes never leave Callum’s as he speaks-

“ Indefinitely."

Epilogue 

The sun rises and shines through cracks in the curtains, splitting the room into beams and shadows. It shines across cream walls covered in pictures in wooden frames, a whole lifetime captured in frozen moments. It catches on piles of clothes from the night before, thrown to the side instead of being hung up because that didn’t matter at the time, not when there were much more beautiful things to focus on. It rests on a bed and the two people held close under the covers, bare skin pressed together like any space left between is criminal. 

It sparks off fingers linked together, once tightly held but somewhat lax in sleep, and the matching rings that lie on fourth fingers. 

The sun watches as life appears in the room again, beginning with a small shift of a head across a pillow, then a breath, then a tightening of those hands linked together. 

Callum rolls onto his back, pulling away a little from where he’d been pressed against Ben for most of the night. He runs a hand over his face, clearing sleep from his eyes so that when he turns to look at the man next to him for the first time that day, nothing obstructs his view. He’s still caught in the throes of sleep, preferring to sleep in much later than Callum when he gets the chance. Not that Callum minds, of course - these are some of his favourite moments, when there’s nothing else in the world but him and Ben and closeness and love. He gets to just watch the other man as he sleeps, not yet caught up on what the world will bring to him that day. 

It’s the most beautiful sight in the world. If Callum were an artist, he’s certain it would be his favourite sight to draw. 

He’s not, of course, but he does have the words that always come strung together in his mind when he gets to watch Ben like this, and he does have a notebook. 

Carefully, so as to not disturb the peace of the man next to him, he pulls away a little more and sits up so that his back rests against the headboard of their bed. There’s enough light in the room now that he doesn’t have to bother with the bedside lamp, so he just takes the notebook that lies there instead - a small brown leather bound one with his initials pressed in gold, that Ben had bought him for his birthday - and a pencil and turns to look at Ben again. 

The words come easily then, with his greatest muse next to him. 

Callum’s not really working on a story as such, just likes to write descriptions of moments like these, partly because he’s read that it’s good practice but partly so that they can be immortalised in a way that film could never capture. He finds solace in the sound of pencil lead scratching across the paper as he writes, and the weight of Ben next to him. 

Time passes like a gentle breeze, in that Callum’s aware of it but it’s more of a comfort than a hindrance. He used to struggle with this, just being while time passed but he’s found over the years that it comes easier now that he’s not alone in the moments that pass- now that he has Ben. So he lets the clock on the wall tick by while he writes, not really thinking about the words, just letting them come and piece themselves together. 

Eventually, Ben starts to stir at his side. It begins with small movements - just his fingers starting to twitch and come back to life - that precede a deep breath, then a shift as Ben unconsciously moves closer to Callum, so that their skin is pressed together again. 

Callum smiles at the sight, fond of the familiarity of it, and helps Ben shift his head into his lap so that he can catch his fingers in Ben’s hair, soothing him back into consciousness. 

It takes a few minutes but soon there are a few more deep breaths, then another shift, before a low, quiet voice fills the room. 

“Mornin’,” Ben whispers, his voice still a little gravelly with sleep. 

Callum’s hands shift onto the bare skin of Ben’s back and gentle fingers trace out his reply there, like an artist with his paintbrush. 

Morning beautiful, he writes, slow so that Ben has enough time to process each letter. Once he’s finished a small smile creeps onto Ben’s face and it lights something up in Callum’s chest, so proud that he can be the cause of a sight so stunning. 

“You writing?” Ben asks a minute later as his fingers start to trace patterns into Callum’s thigh, swirls that become hearts after a while that serve to make Callum feel more special than he ever thought possible.

He traces out a y on Ben’s back in reply, and Ben hums. “‘Bout what?” 

Callum smiles. You, he writes. 

“Can I see?” 

No, he traces back. 

Ben huffs out a laugh like it’s the answer he’d been expecting, and it probably was because the answer has been the same almost every time he’s asked it for the last eleven months since their wedding. 

“‘Course,” Ben replies, and Callum smiles with the knowledge that Ben won’t have to ask in a month, when the contents of this notebook is written up and handed back to him, wrapped carefully in paper with a note that reads happy anniversary , baby. 

Ben’s quiet after that, slipping back into a half-sleep on Callum’s lap, perfectly content. Callum finishes what he was writing and places his notebook and pencil back on the table, turning instead to just watch Ben once again, perfectly content himself. 

The sun continues to rise and set, just like it should, and every morning it rises the same, to the sight of Ben and Callum pressed close together- content in these moments to love and nothing more.