Two hours passed by more quickly than he thought possible while he wrote and wrote, producing several thousand words, losing himself in rescuing his hero from yet another difficult situation; he loved creating new aliens for Carlos to face and defeat. The timer sounded. He padded to the kitchen and turned off the oven, then returned to his story for another couple of hours. The sound of the doorbell shook him out of his world and back into the real one.
“Shit!” He got up and went to the door. Pressing the buzzer, he let Ceri in and waited for him to come up the stairs. Ceri gave him a huge grin, kissed him, and handed him a large, colourful bouquet.
“Flowers?” he asked. Did men buy each other flowers? He wasn’t even sure there was a vase in the flat. Alfie had never liked them because they died then shed petals everywhere.
§ § §
Ceri gazed around the main room. “I hope they go with the décor,” he said, taking in the stark, mostly white room in front of him. “I brought a few beers as well.” He handed over the bag. Puzzled, he wondered about Mick’s book and DVD collection He’d expected to see them wall to ceiling, but the walls had only black and white photographs of cityscapes in frames, and what must be a forty-two-inch plasma screen over the mantle.
“Any chance of one of those bottles?” he asked.
“Sorry, I should have offered you something. Beer?”
“Beer’s good, and that curry smells awesome. I’m starving.” He threw his jacket over the back of the sofa.
“I just need to reheat it and cook the rice,” Mick explained, picking up the jacket. He returned from the kitchen with the beer in a glass and told Ceri to sit down. “I’ll just go and get the food sorted.”
Ceri had never seen such a sterile looking place in his life. It looked like something out of a magazine—one of those homes no one really lived in. He walked over to the table and sat in front of the laptop. Lifting the screen, he began to read. After reading a little of the current chapter, he scrolled back to the beginning and got lost in the story.
“What are you doing?” Mick yelled as he slammed down the screen. “That’s mine. I never said you could read it.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t myself. Did you really write that?”
Mick snatched up the laptop and put it protectively under his arm. “Thought it was funny, did you?”
“In parts, but I thought I was supposed to laugh at those bits.” He put a hand on Mick’s arm. “I love the story. I read a bit, and then I couldn’t stop myself. You do know this is good enough to be published, don’t you?”
Mick frowned at him. “There’s no need to humour me. I know it’s just scribbles. I’ve been writing stories about Carlos and his gang of space pirates for years—since I was a teenager. I like writing, that’s all. It’s nothing. Come on, the food’s ready, so we’d better eat it while it’s hot.”
Ceri noted he took the laptop back into the kitchen with him.
They took their places at the table. “This is wonderful, and really hot. I like things to be hot, don’t you?” Ceri put on what he thought was his sexiest voice, trying to lighten the mood, but Mick just kept on eating. He’d been quiet since the laptop incident. “Um,” Ceri continued studying the contents of the room. “I couldn’t help but notice there aren’t any books or DVDs on display. I expected you to have quite a collection.”
Mick looked up. “I do, I keep them in boxes in the hall cupboard. Alfie never liked that sort of thing. He said it disturbed the look of the room to have all those different colours on display.”
“But…” Ceri began, then something made him stop. He finished his food quickly. “That was really nice, and just how I like it. Where’s the bathroom? I need the loo.” He needed a good excuse to have a quick look around the place. A small bedroom lay opposite the main room. He opened the door. A clock and book sat on a small bedside unit; next to them stood a photograph. He wanted to go in and pick it up to have a closer look, but guessed it was Alfie. Everything was white, just like in the living room, except for the blue duvet cover on the single bed. He closed the door and opened the door of the room further down the small corridor.
This room was much bigger, with a king size bed. A uniform hung on the front of the wardrobe as if waiting for its owner, provided the only colour in the otherwise white room. Ceri guessed Mick didn’t sleep in here and hadn’t since Alfie died. It wasn’t quite a shrine, but it might as well be. He shut the door and found the bathroom. He relieved himself then sat on the lid. He didn’t know what to think. He knew Mick had his problems—the routines and such, but it didn’t look as if he even lived there. Two toothbrushes still stood in a mug on the shelf above the sink.
He got up and opened the cabinet. It contained shaving stuff, which obviously Mick wouldn’t ever need, and aftershave, expensive aftershave that Mick would never use. There wasn’t a thing out of place in that room either. Everything sparkled. He thought of his own shared bathroom where there were probably new life-forms attempting to evolve. Anger welled up inside him. Alfie might as well still be living there because Mick didn’t, not really. He was like a ghost, without form or substance, who made no impact on his surroundings. It wasn’t right. A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought.
“Are you all right? I haven’t killed you, have I? You’ve been a while, I was worried.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll be out now. Any chance of a coffee?”
“I’ve got ice cream for dessert as well. I thought we might need it after the curry.”
“Sounds good,” Ceri replied, turning the tap on to wash his hands.
When he got back to the main room, Mick had put some ice cream into bowls and was sitting down. He still looked worried, and Ceri wasn’t sure what to say to him. He lifted the bowl. “Have you any sauce to go with this, chocolate or toffee?”
“No. Alfie didn’t like sauce. He said it was messy.”
Ceri reached over and stopped Mick’s hand as it rose to his mouth. He said the next sentence as quietly and calmly as he could. “But I’m not Alfie, Mick, and he’s not here anymore.” He saw Mick’s stricken face and tried to lighten the mood. “Anyway, lots of things you can do with chocolate sauce, not just put it on ice cream!”
Without warning, Mick stood up, sending his chair crashing to the floor. “I’d like you to leave. This isn’t working out. I don’t want you here. It’s not right that you’re here.”
“What!” Ceri said. “I thought you liked me.” Mick wrapped his arms around his body, looking confused.
“I know you have problems, Mick, and it doesn’t matter. I like you, I like you a lot, but this isn’t right, Mick, and you know it. This isn’t your flat, it’s his, and he’s been dead three years. It should be full of your things. You’re not even sleeping in the main bedroom, are you? You’re like a lodger in your own home and…”
“Stop it!” Mick said, putting his hands to his ears. “Get out. I’m not listening to this.” He grabbed Ceri’s arm and began to pull him towards the door. “I don’t want to hurt you. Just go. Now. Please!”
“If you throw me out and shut the door, you may as well be burying yourself in your own coffin. He’s the one who’s dead, Mick, not you. You weren’t dead when you came, shouting my name, with your cock buried deep inside me. I bet you’d never felt more alive.” Mick tugged his arm once more.
“All right, I’m going, but don’t think this is it. I won’t give up easily. I’ll fight for you, Mick. I’ll even fight a dead man if I have to.” Mick slammed the door behind him. Even through the wood, Ceri could hear him crying.
CHAPTER 10
Ceri spent the next two days at the skate park. He needed to do something to take his mind off what had happened Friday night. He hadn’t slept much since then, so he figured if he wore himself out, he might manage a few hours before he went back to work on Sunday night. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to do. How did you fight a dead man? The dead make so few mistakes, and he’d made so many. But this time he would be no giving up. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, Mick had got under his skin. He wanted to make him happy. He wanted to give his body to Mick over and over again.
A Mick-shaped hole had left him empty in a way he never had in the past, not even when Jules had buggered off. No areas of comparison existed in his mind. Oh, he’d received a lot of pleasure from the sex and introducing the other man to new things, but just seeing Mick smile brought him more joy than any fuck, and that was something he hadn’t known before. He wanted to protect Mick and be protected by him at the same time. There was only one explanation; he was in love for the first time in his life, and now it looked as if everything had gone wrong, unless somehow he could work out a way of putting it right.
§ § §
Early Monday morning, he pressed the buzzer at the office building with some trepidation. He had what he was going to say all planned out. Perhaps on neutral ground, Mick would listen to him. The buzzer sounded and he announced himself, but there was no answering voice. He completed his route around the building as quickly as he could to give himself more time to have that talk. He stopped when he got to the door of Mick’s booth and ran his shaking hand through his still purple hair. He felt more nervous than he had in years, even more than the several occasions on which he’d stood outside his head teacher’s office.
He knocked on the door. The voice that shouted “Come in” was not the one he expected.
“Sorry, I thought Mick would be here,” he said, after pushing the door open. Tom, one of the other security guards, occupied Mick’s seat. Ceri couldn’t help remembering what they’d done there only a week ago.
“He phoned in sick,” Tom replied. “Said he’d eaten a dodgy curry. First time I’ve ever known him to be off work, so he must be bad. I’m surprised you didn’t know, what with you and him being together, like you are.”
Ceri didn’t know what to say. Now he was worried. “When did he phone?” he asked. He wanted to be sure Mick hadn’t done anything stupid. He intended to go straight round there after his shift.
“He phoned yesterday, so I stayed and did a double shift. He’d have done it for me. Is everything okay between you? He’s a good man, you know. Oh, he has his strange ways, but you get used to them.”
Ceri obviously looked unconvinced and Tom put a hand on his arm. “Look lad, I don’t care about you being queer. My uncle was the same. My sister and I went to see him before he died. His partner was in bits, but he had no say over his treatment or anything else. My mum waltzed in and made all the decisions for a man she hadn’t seen in twenty years, just because he preferred men. I thought it was wrong then, and I cheered loudly when they introduced same sex marriage, so don’t give me that
what the hell does he know
face, because I know, and I care. We look after Mick, here and looking at you, I guess something has happened.”
Ceri nodded. “We had a row about his dead boyfriend and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Ah, the wonderful Alfie. Mick has talked about him occasionally. I always thought there was something a bit off about him. You need to get him out of that flat. I went round there once. He wouldn’t even let me in—said Alfie wouldn’t have liked having strangers there. He’d been dead for two years by then. Do me a favour, will you? Get round there and at least check he’s okay.”
“I was planning to. Even if he won’t let me in, I’ll see if he’s all right.”
“Good lad. This is my number. Text me and let me know please, or I won’t get any sleep today.”
Ceri took the piece of paper. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “And thanks for the other stuff as well.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ceri stood at the side of his van, watching the windows to Mick’s flat. The main room light was on and a shadow moved behind the curtains. At least Mick hadn’t done anything stupid. He wanted to go up and talk to him, but he found his feet remained rooted to the spot. His phone rang. He’d told his boss he was running, late but he knew he’d have to go soon. He needed someone to talk to, so he made a decision. He’d talk to the one person he’d always relied on to tell him the truth—his sister, Megan.
CHAPTER 11
Since he had a few days’ holiday owing, Ceri asked his boss and took the time off. He needed to get away for a while and try and work out what to do. He wasn’t going to give up on Mick, but he also knew he couldn’t just go in there all guns blazing and demand the other man give up his dead love. He couldn’t wait to see Megan again. They talked on the phone every week, but it had been a while since he’d visited her. Now in her third year of medical school and on one of her rotations, she was currently working in a GP surgery.
Ceri worked until Wednesday morning, got a few hours’ sleep, and then set off to Leeds. Megan shared a house with Sophie, who she’d known since they met over a Petri dish in her first year of medical school. They’d shared accommodation ever since.
After a fairly simple journey, Ceri finally arrived at their house. He still found these back-to-backs confusing, but lots of students lived in them, despite the fact that most of them had been condemned over thirty years before. He chained his bike to a couple of drain pipes and hoped it would be all right.
Sophie greeted him at the door and smiled. “You got here okay then. Nice hair colour, suits you. Come in.” He followed her straight into the living room.
“Megan’s going to be late. The GP surgery she’s at has extended hours today, so she’s helping out, and you never know how long that will take. Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m fine. I got a sandwich on the way up. Can I dump this bag somewhere?”
“Sure, put it at the side of the sofa. We’ll sort stuff out later. You’ll have a coffee though, won’t you? I need one to keep myself awake, and then I’ve got to hit the books again. Final exams aren’t that far away now.”
“Yeah, coffee would be good.” He sat on the sofa and watched Sophie go into the kitchen, the only other room downstairs. One bedroom and a bathroom occupied the first floor, and above, the loft had been converted into another bedroom. These houses were small, but enough for the two of them, and the fittings were modern; students demanded more for their money these days.