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He shouldn’t have done it. Stephen knew that. Shouldn’t have called Tony. Not with sixteen days of silence between them, not with the picture circulating the internet of Tony with that girl.
They hadn’t ended anything, not with words, but Stephen… He hurt. When Tony had called, Stephen hadn’t answered, not the first time, not the next nine.
Tony hadn’t tried again after that last call. Stephen had deleted the voicemails without listening. He couldn’t listen to them, because he’d give in.
He loved Tony, but being with him hurt: the stories, the pictures, the constant deluge of rumors.
Stephen… It wasn’t that he believed them. Tony had sworn he’d never cheat on Stephen, and Stephen had seen truth in his eyes. But that didn’t stop the rest of the world. Didn’t stop the other doctors from looking at him with pity. Didn’t make it easier, even if Stephen knew.
The last picture—she’d been beautiful; that was the worst part, they were always so beautiful—had just been the last straw.
Sixteen days of silence, then Stephen had seen what he’d thought had been Tony across the street and had wanted so badly. Except it wasn’t Tony, and all Stephen had was the want for him. Because as much as it hurt being with Tony, being without him was unbearable.
So he’d called Tony.
Tony hadn’t answered. Not the first time, or the second or third.
They hadn’t ended anything, not with words, but Tony had heard Stephen’s message loud and clear through the silence.
Stephen buried his face in his hands. Was this really how it ended? They hadn’t even said goodbye, because Stephen had never expected to walk away.
On the counter, his phone vibrated, a rattling noise echoing through his apartment.
Stephen froze.
Tony was calling.