Richard Fidler peeked out from his room. The others were asleep. Creeping as quietly as he could, Rich made his way down the corridor of the hotel to the stairwell. Once he was there, he made a mad dash for the ground floor, nearly falling over his own feet.
Bursting out the side door, he nearly knocked over someone waiting there. Wil Anderson grinned at Rich's eagerness, and treated him to a long, passionate kiss before leading him away from any prying eyes that might be watching.

Paul woke to the sound of his alarm clock going off. Jumping up, he dived over to the other side of the room, desperately trying to turn off the wretched thing as quickly as possible. But he missed the clock, the table it was on, and even the room, sailing out through the door into the joining room they all shared. Sighing, Paul climbed to his feet and trudged wearily back into his room. He turned off the alarm clock with an angry click, then turned to face the huddled figure still sleeping on his bed. Tim could sleep through the sinking of the Titanic, Paul thought grumpily, a bit jealous.
Climbing up onto the bed, Paul was just about to give Tim a "kick" start, when Tim rolled over and whimpered something incomprehensible. Paul stopped; he just couldn't do it. Tim looked so cute when he was sleeping.
Mumbling something about how he was getting soft, Paul turned and left the room.

Wil and Rich stood pashing on Wil's front door step. Rich was the first to break the kiss, turning his attention to Wil's supple neck.
"I had a lovely time tonight, Wil," he whispered softly. Wil pulled him away, and gazed meaningfully into his eyes.
"Would you like to come up for coffee?" he asked, placing his hand suggestively under Rich's shirt. Rich shivered agreeably, but glanced at his watch.
"I really should be getting back," he said reluctantly. "The others will wake up soon." Wil began to nuzzle his neck.
"Forget about them - be with me�" he whispered, and to emphasize his point began to gently caress Rich's back and sought out his mouth once more for an even more heated kiss than before.
"Well�" Rich's resolution was quickly dissolving. Wil was getting worked up, and so was Rich. To convince him once and for all, Wil pulled Rich closer to him, so absolutely no space was between them, and lavished his face and neck with kisses, while at the same time working his hands over Rich's back. Rich moaned in pleasure.
He knew he was falling hard for Wil, but there was nothing he could do to stop it - besides, he wasn't sure if he wanted to stop it.
"I'm sure they'll do fine without me," he informed Wil, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. Wil returned the grin and pulled Rich inside.

Paul tapped lightly on Rich's door, but got no answer.
"Rich?" he called tentatively. Paul was a bit worried about Rich - he had been acting very strange lately. Distant, dreamy and� well Paul really didn't know what else, but Rich wasn't his anymore. He wasn't as innocent or something.
Concerned by the silence, Paul opened Rich's door. There was no one in there.

Wil and Rich stumbled through the hallway, up to Wil's room, each tearing the clothes off the other, their mouths locked together in fierce embrace. Finally, they made it to the bedroom. Wil gently lowered Rich onto his back, all the while kissing heatedly. Rich kissed back just as hungrily.
Wil let out a soft moan as Rich finally got his pants off and began to caress him where it mattered. Then it was Rich's turn to moan, as Wil used his tongue to get lower and lower, until he reached where he was heading.
Slowly and passionately, they made love for hours: resting, then starting again. Wil was amazed by Rich's stamina, just as Rich was amazed by Wil's experience and confidence. Both were very satisfied when they finally feel asleep around dawn.

Paul quickly checked the bathroom and toilet, before checking the kitchen. He couldn't find Rich anywhere. Growing worried, Paul rushed into his bedroom and pushed Tim out of bed.
Tim awoke with a snort. He looked around groggily until his eyes focused on the cause of his rude awakening.
"What'd you do that for?" he mumbled sleepily, still not totally awake. Paul yanked Tim to his feet before yelling at him.
"Rich is missing! I can't find him anywhere!" Both did a quick double take. Hadn't this happened before? Shrugging off the feeling, Tim brushed himself off.
"That's nonsense." He retorted. "I know exactly where he is." Paul stared at Tim incredulously.
"Well then, where is he?!" he practically screamed.
"He's with some stranger, who picked him up at about midnight last night," Tim replied, a little hurt. Paul froze.
"Where did they go?" he asked softly, his voice full of silky menace.
"How should I know?" Tim shrugged, then had to duck as a vase hurtled his way. He suddenly decided it would be safer downstairs in the bar area.

Rich snuggled closer to Wil, his eyes still growing accustomed to the dark. Wil smiled contentedly and wrapped his arm around Rich in that protective way which everyone really close to Rich does.
"Wil?" Rich asked uncertainly. Wil opened his eyes.
"Yeah?" he replied, kissing Rich lightly on the forehead.
"Um, I don't� I don't want this to be a casual thing�" he broke off, not sure how to continue. Luckily, Wil helped him out.
"Oh Rich, you say the cutest things! It won't be, I swear," Wil reassured him. Rich smiled, and closed his eyes. He was so happy, nothing could spoil this day. Except for the fact that Paul and Tim would be up now and looking for him.
Rich's eyes flew open.
"Oh my gosh!" he cried. Pulling out of Wil's embrace, he raced down to the hall, where he had left most of his clothes. Wil got up and followed, wondering if Rich was playing some sort of game, as he was prone to do.
Wil watched, clearly amused, as Rich tried pulling on his pants and shirt at the same time, and promptly fell over. Wil laughed, then reached over to lend a hand.
Rich grinned sheepishly.
"Thanks," he said, as he dropped his arms to his side and let Wil dress him. When he was finished, Wil didn't move away, he remained standing only inches away from Rich. Neither was sure who made the first move, but soon they were back in the bedroom, Rich's clothes on the floor again.

Paul stared moodily out the window. It was nearly nine o'clock and his Rich still wasn't back. Paul stopped and considered what he had just thought. That wasn't true. Rich wasn't his anymore. He wasn't the cute, innocent little boy that looked up to Paul when there was something he didn't understand. A single tear rolled down Paul's cheek.
Something had happened, or was happening to Rich, and he was changing. Paul was sure Rich was safe, but that wasn't the point. He was safe with someone else, and didn't need Paul to protect him anymore. Paul sniffed. That was probably what hurt the most. He wasn't needed.
Totally and utterly depressed, Paul's thoughts started to wander to the handgun he kept in his drawer. Reaching a decision, he got up and headed into his room.

Rich didn't get back to the hotel until well after midday, creeping up the stairs towards his room. As he slipped his key into the lock, he felt someone watching him. He turned around, and there was Paul, staring at him. Paul didn't say anything, he just turned and walked back into his room, but not before Rich could see the pain in his eyes, or the tear stains on his cheeks.
Rich felt really bad: worse than he had ever felt before. He had made Paul cry, just so he could be with Wil. Deciding to do something about it, he turned and followed Paul into his room. He expected Paul to rant and rave and tell him to fuck off, as Paul usually did when he was upset, but he didn't. He just sat on the windowsill and watched as Rich approached uncertainly.
It was then that Rich noticed the gun in Paul's hands. He froze. Paul followed his gaze down to the gun, and stared at it, as though he had no idea how it had got there. He stroked the handle almost lovingly, then put the safety on and through it across the room, onto his bed.
Rich breathed a sigh of relief. Paul wasn't going to kill himself - at least not today.
They stared at each other in silence. Paul was the first one to brake it.
"You've changed, Rich," he whispered sadly. Rich frowned, not quite sure what Paul meant. He took a step forward but stopped when Paul flinched.
"What're you talking about?" Rich demanded; a little scared by the way Paul was acting. "I haven't changed. I'm exactly the same." Rich pulled himself up short when he said this last sentence. That's not true he remembered, thinking of Wil.
Paul just shook his head and turned to stare out the window. Now it was Rich's turn to fell helpless. Nothing he could say would get a reaction out of Paul. He didn't move.
Defeated, Rich turned and headed slowly back to his room.

Paul watched him go, tears welling up once more in his eyes. He wished he could tell Rich what he felt for him.
"I love you Rich," he whispered to Rich's retreating back. "Come back to me." Rich didn't hear.

Rich flopped down on his bed; the cool pillow meeting his own heated face. He lay there with his eyes closed, listening to his own heartbeat. Silence was with him - the one thing that kept him sane. It was his friend, lulling him into security, comforting him; engulfing him in peace and sanctuary.
Rich's mind wandered, to Paul and to Wil. He had no idea what to do - he only knew that he had to choose between them.

Paul waited on the windowsill for well over an hour, knowing exactly what Rich was doing. He would lie there in silence, thinking, contemplating, but eventually he would just fall asleep.
Sure enough, when Paul walked past Rich's room, he was there asleep. Paul smiled at the man he knew so well - and who knew him.
Paul stopped to think. No one, with the exception of his twin sister, knew him so well. But they were drifting apart. Oh God, this was torture!
He and Rich had been friends for so long - but that, Paul thought sadly, is all. Paul had always loved Rich, but he never knew how much until Rich had disappeared over year ago. Once he was fully aware of his feelings, Paul hadn't known how to act around Rich. He had shunned him, not sure how to handle the emotions he was feeling. But he had been terribly hurt when Rich began to do the same - but for apparently different reasons.
Paul headed back into his own bedroom, and picked up the gun from off his bed. Sticking it in his jeans, and concealing it with his shirt, Paul turned and headed out of the hotel, fighting the tears that were threatening once more.

Rich awoke with a sense of ill ease, but had no idea what was wrong. It took him a couple of minutes to remember what had happened between him and Paul. That must be it, he thought.
But that wasn't it. Rich frowned, wondering what it was. He wandered into the kitchen, lost in his own thoughts. He turned the corner to get something to eat out of the fridge and nearly knocked Tim over.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" Tim cried out. He studies Rich closely, his not-to-bright eyes trying to analyze the situation.
"Where were you this morning?" Tim asked, trying to sound threatening and suspicious. Rich decided to humor Tim.
"I ran away with a secret lover, and decided to come back to make you guys breakfast," Rich said with a totally straight face. "But my lover wouldn't let me go."
Tim collapsed in a fit of giggles, thinking that Rich had just made the best joke of his career. Rich smiled a small knowing smile, and opened the fridge.
"Where's Paul?" he asked, trying desperately to be casual.
"Don't know," Tim answered, wiping away tears of laughter from his eyes. "Last I saw, he was throwing things in his room." Rich glanced at Tim, suddenly remembering the gun.
"When was this?" he asked, hoping Tim would say yesterday.
"This morning - after he found you gone," Tim replied casually, oblivious to Rich's sudden tension. Tim watched Rich bolt into the bedroom, a confused look on his face, but dismissed it as one of his moods and searched the cupboard for anything edible.
Rich raced into Paul's room, throwing off the sheets to the bed when he got there. He went a deathly pale when he realised the gun was gone.

Paul wandered down the beach, lost in his thoughts. He had remembered what town they were in now; the tiny city of Adelaide. It didn't escape Paul's notice that it was in this wretched little city that he had almost lost Rich last time.
Paul's drifting thoughts strayed to who else was staying here. He suddenly remembered that Wil Anderson was performing here as part of some comedy festival.

Note: I know Wil wasn't performing at this current point in time, but hey - it's a fiction story alright?

Maybe I'll look him up, Paul thought. He gave me the address where he'd be staying when we met up in Sydney and discovered we'd be here at the same time. In fact the more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed. Wil was a good friend, and the two of them had once been very close - he'll know how to handle this situation, Paul concluded. And with a contented smile, headed off to find his soon-to-be confident.

Rich rushed around the hotel room, but it was no use - the gun was gone and so was Paul. Rich flopped down on his bed and closed his eyes in despair. What was he going to do? He had no idea where Paul was, and even if he did, Rich wouldn't have known how to get there. He still hadn't learnt his way around this small, planned city.
Suddenly Rich's eyes flew open. Wil! Wil would know whereabouts to find Paul - he was close to Paul, but better yet, he knew his way around Adelaide pretty well.
Rich jumped up and raced out of the hotel, on the way to find his lover.

Rich knocked tentatively on Wil's front door. It opened almost immediately and Wil's worried face appeared in the frame.
"Rich!" he cried, and flung himself into Rich's arms. Rich was a little taken aback by this greeting, but had enough sense to lead the now sobbing Wil back inside.
He gently guided Wil towards the living room and sat him down on the couch.
"What's wrong?" Rich asked, his arms around Wil's shoulders, temporarily forgetting his own problems. It took several minutes for Wil to answer, and for a while he just sat there, crying into Rich's shoulder.
"It's�it's�it's�Paul," Wil finally managed to say. Rich's heart leapt into his throat when he thought of the missing gun. He quickly turned Wil to face him.
"What about Paul?" Rich demanded. "Wil, what's happened to Paul?!"
"I don't know!" Wil snuffled. "He came here asking for advice about what�about what to do about you." Rich froze.
"Then he�he�saw�he saw� THAT!" Wil fell into a fresh bout of tears, pointing towards the mantle.
At first Rich didn't see anything that would upset Paul, but then he spotted it. It was a photo of himself and Wil, pashing as though they were the last people on Earth.
"Oh no�" he whispered.

Paul stood on the edge of a cliff, starring out to sea. Tears clouded his vision until he couldn't see, but his mind was clear.
He remembered he still had the gun, but for the moment didn't do anything about it.
He heard the sound of voices behind him but he didn't turn - he just didn't care anymore. As the voices got closer he could tell that they were female, and that they were heading in his direction.
Paul frowned, tears spilling down his cheeks. As if he didn't have enough to worry about - now he had to think of some poor strangers being traumatised for life.
If he was going to do it, he better do it fast, before they had a chance to stop him.

Rich was near hysterics. There was no telling what Paul would do, especially with a gun. Rich feared the worst.
Wil just sat on the couch sobbing quietly. He knew it wasn't really his fault - he had no idea that Paul would come to him - but he felt terrible none the less.
Rich began pacing. What was he going to do? Where would Paul go? Tears filled Rich's eyes when he thought of Paul committing suicide.
Pull yourself together! He yelled at himself. You've known Paul for longer than you can remember - you MUST know where he is.
Rich slowly began to calm down, and brought up every single memory he possessed of Paul. The good times, the bad times, and the drunk times. A small smile crept across Rich's face. They had been there for each other through it all.
I know him so well� Rich froze. That's it!
"C'mon Wil!" Rich cried, grabbing Wil's hand and pulling him to his feet.
"Where are we going?" Wil asked, trying desperately to wipe the tears from his eyes so he could see where to put his feet.
"I know exactly where Paul is!" Rich yelled back, as he raced out into the street, running straight past Wil's rental in his driveway.
He just hoped they weren't too late.

Paul sighed and reached for the gun. The time had come. Tears fell openly down his face, but he didn't notice anymore.
All he could think of was how much he wished he could say goodbye to Rich.
Paul placed the nozzle of the gun against his temple, but then he hesitated. It was that hesitation that gave Tim enough time to reach him.
Tim yanked the gun out of Paul's hands just as it went off. Tim cried out in pain and surprise, and fell to the ground.
"Tim!" Paul screamed when he realised what he had just done.

Rich and Wil heard the gunshot from down the street. They glanced at each other, but neither dared to say anything. To say it aloud was to make it so. They just ran harder, hoping against hope to prevent the inevitable.

Tim had been walking along the cliff line with his friends nicole and Fiona Rahona, when he had seen Paul standing on the edge. Telling the girls to stay quietly where they were he had started to walk silently towards Paul, but had broken into a run when he had seen the gun. The two girls had also seen the gun and had rushed to call the police, fearing that their friend was placing his life into the hands of some sort of criminal.

Rich and Wil arrived to a scene which they never expected to see. Tim was lying unmoving on the ground, and Paul was next to him, sobbing uncontrollably.
Rich's heart leapt into his throat for the third time that night. Tim! He and Wil raced over to where Paul was crouched. Paul didn't even see them. He just kept murmmering, "You stupid man, why'd you do it? Oh you stupid, stupid man�"
Wil placed his arms around Paul, to try and offer him some sort of comfort, but he was watching Rich move slowly towards Tim.
Rich reached and gently turned Tim over. There was a huge hole in his side. Rich felt hope - not at the hole itself but at where it was positioned. Maybe Tim wasn't dead!
Rich reached out again, this time with eagerness, to check Tim's pulse. He nearly jumped for joy when he found it. It was terribly faint, but it was there!
Rich immediately began to apply pressure to the wound, to stop the blood from flowing. He turned to Wil.
"Wil, quickly go and call an ambulance!" he cried.
"There's no need," a voice behind Rich made him jump. He turned to see two frightened girls looking at him.
The one who had spoken walked forward uncertainly, eying the still weeping Paul with suspicion.
"Is there anything we can do?"
Rich shook his head. It didn't mean no, it just meant he had no idea. The girl who had spoken introduced herself, not quite sure what else to do.
"I'm nicole, and that's Fiona Rahona," he said pointing at the other girl. Fiona waved nervously.
"Please say that he's going to be alright," Fiona spoke for the first time, her voice quivering with worry. Rich turned his attention back to Tim.
"I don't know," he replied honestly. He glanced at Wil and Paul. Wil was trying to talk to Paul, to bring him back into reality, but it seemed Paul had lapsed into shock.
Rich looked back at Tim. The blood was still flowing, despite his best efforts to stop it.
"Shit!" he swore, trying to apply more pressure.
Nicole and Fiona both walked over at the same time, and placed their hands on the wound. Rich looked at them in surprise. These girls really care about him, he realised. He had thought that Tim didn't have any real friends besides himself and Paul, and Tim had shown him nothing to convince him otherwise, but these two girls really were worried. And they were getting their hands coated in blood to try and save his life. Rich was impressed.
In the background sirens wailed.

Tim drifted in the depths of his mind. Well, waded in the shallows of his mind anyway. He was lost in an endless garden, and couldn't find his way out. It was so beautiful there, and it made him so tired looking for the exit. He was just about to give up when he heard Paul's voice.
"Don't leave me Timmy! Oh God, Timmy please don't go!" Paul sounded so upset. He began whispering, "Come back to me, come back to me," over and over.
Tim searched again with renewed determination. He wouldn't give up on Paul - not now, and not ever.

Tim slowly opened his eyes. All he saw was a white ceiling. Where am I? He wondered. He became aware of the sound of someone sobbing. He turned his head. Paul was sitting on a chair next to him, his face buried in his hands.
Before Tim could say anything to comfort Paul, Rich walked in looking sad and incredibly tired, but his face lit up when he saw Tim awake.
"Tim!" he cried, but didn't finish the sentence. Instead he rushed over to the bed to give Tim a hug. Paul's head snapped up. He stared at Tim, disbelieving. Then he too, enveloped Tim in a huge hug.
Tim just looked from one to the other, trying to figure out who had died. Why were they so upset?
Suddenly Tim realised his side was sore.
"Ouch," he commented casually. He had to laugh at as the other two jumped away from him guiltily, as though they had just been caught doing something naughty.
"Sorry," they both muttered, embarrassed.
"That's alright," Tim said light-heartdly. He looked down to see what was so painful.
"Fuck!" he yelled when he saw the huge bandage covering half his body. "What happened?!" Paul looked uncomfortable.
"Umm, I shot you when you tried to stop me from killing myself," he said. Tim considered this - his memory had never been that good, but he did remember something about Paul being in danger.
"Oh," was all he said at first. Then he asked, " Are you still trying to do that? 'Cause if you are you know I'm going to have to stop you, and I'm really tired at he moment."
Paul blushed.
"No," he replied. "I had a long talk with Rich, and I'm happy to be with both of you - no matter who else you might fancy."
"That's good," Tim said, relieved. Rich had been watching them both, an amused gleam in his eye. Now he laughed and engulfed them both in a huge hug.
Tim Ferguson and Paul McDermott: the two men he loved most in the world. None of them could be happier.