Afire

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and characters are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Afire Copyright©2010 Sarah Masters ISBN 978-1-60054-597-9 His and His Kisses Edition Cover art and design by Emmy Ellis All rights reserved. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

Published by loveyoudivine Alterotica 2011 Find us on the World Wide Web at www.loveyoudivine.com

AFIRE THE BLINDED SERIES By

SARAH MASTERS COMPLETE DIGITAL EDITION

CONTENTS BLINDED

Page 5

Ryan has news for Lee that can’t be told over the phone or by email, and he dreads the outcome…

GLIMMER

Page 65

Lee and Ryan, eighteen-year-old men, admit the love they have shared since childhood is more than just friendship.

BURNING

Page 139

After years spent apart, Ryan and Lee get together again. Is their love still burning?

INFERNO

Page 211

Lee and Ryan make their way back to the town where they grew up, but upon their return to Lee’s cabin, something isn’t right…

WILDFIRE

Page 281

Ryan takes Lee away to recuperate, but once again, someone from their past catches up with them.

SHIMMER

Page 339

While on holiday trying to come to terms with the terrible things that have befallen them, Lee and Ryan learn a valuable lesson.

BLINDED

Dedication

BLINDED ~ Chapter One Clouds covered a yellow moon’s belly, and stars of the same hue were out in force. Ryan had been walking for a couple of hours since an old woman dropped him before her turnoff. It sucked she wasn’t going all the way to Biddingford, but then again, who did apart from those living there? Well, he supposed relatives of the villagers visited, but no one in their right mind would choose to go to such an out-of-the-way place, surely? And I’m not in my right bloody mind, and neither was Lee when he moved here, so there you go. I must be nuts to have agreed to this.

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With about a mile left to walk, his legs ached something fierce. Upon arrival at the village, he still had to climb a steep hill to reach Lee’s cabin. The pad of one foot throbbed from his socks rubbing against his ruined inner sole. If I stop to take it out, I might not start walking again. Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets, cursing himself for not thinking to wear gloves in this weather. His beanie hat kept his head warm, though. Good job, really; he reckoned his shaved head would have frozen if he hadn’t worn one. The village lights shone far into the distance, and he pushed on, each step making those creamy twinkles grow bigger. He had to be crazy doing this. None of Lee’s other friends had offered to take the wad of cash to him, and Ryan felt obliged. Scrub that—he’d wanted to. Lee’s old dear had died yesterday, and although Lee stopped contact with her years ago, it was only right the woman’s money was delivered to her son as she’d requested. Whether Lee would want it was another matter. The old dear had left instructions with her neighbour to take the money before the authorities arrived.

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Ryan rounded his shoulders, resettling his backpack, the straps digging in so badly he wondered if they’d broken the skin from chafing. His thoughts strayed to the reception he might receive. If he knew Lee, the guy would tell him to fuck right off with the money and not come back. Still, he had to try, and if he was honest, it would be good to see his old friend again. How long had it been now? Four years? Christ, four years living on the top of a hill with no one for company. Unless he’s found someone to share his life with. That thought sobered Ryan, and he frowned. His offer to take the money had been with an ulterior motive: to see Lee again, see if something could come of it—them. He gave a light chuckle, remembering their fumbled exploration of one another when they were, what, eighteen? They’d hung around with each another for years as kids, and the one time they cut loose and gave in to their feelings, Lee’s mother had caught them. Hence the rift. Shit, she hadn’t been pleased, standing there in the doorway, hands on hips and her mouth wide open. Her flushed cheeks

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screamed of her embarrassment and anger, and she’d started ranting, finger pointing and accusations flying. She’d wanted grandchildren, hadn’t she, and her only son being ‘like that’ hadn’t sat well at all. And Ryan, the little bastard, was to blame, getting her son all confused. Ryan had made a hasty exit after scrabbling into his clothes, meeting Lee later that night under the streetlight at the end of Ryan’s road. “I’ve left,” Lee said, hands in pockets, his head down. “Gonna go and live in the middle of nowhere so no one can bother me. I can’t stay here. Not with her telling everyone what a disappointment I am. And she will, despite being appalled. She’ll do anything for a bit of attention. Always has.” Ryan’s stomach had plummeted, and he grasped Lee’s arm. “Come and stay at my place. I don’t give a fuck what people say. We can, you know, be together…if you want.” Lee lifted his blond-haired head, those deep brown eyes of his filled to the brim, and sighed. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”

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Ryan nodded, hoping his friend would tell him…tell him he thought a lot of him. Felt the same as he did. “Yup. Tell me whatever you like.” “I feel like…uh, like I’ve got to find myself, know what I mean?” He did know. Shit, Ryan had done all his soul-searching a couple of years back, telling himself he shouldn’t feel the way he did about his best pal, but Lee? He’d only just admitted to himself and Ryan how he felt, how he was, and still had a long way to go in coming to terms with it. And what with his old dear’s reaction, the poor bastard must have been as confused as hell. Ryan nodded. “I know what you mean. You go. Do it, but you’ll stay in contact, yeah? Let me know where you wind up?” Stooping, Lee picked up his large holdall, one they’d used when camping the previous summer. “I will. And hey, maybe you’ll come and see me one day.” “I will. When you’re ready.” And here Ryan was, four years later, going to visit Lee without knowing if he was ready. Or whether he has someone else. He shook off the

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persistent thought, one that had bugged him since Lee left, and winced as his calves protested at the slight incline of the road. He moved off the asphalt and onto the grass verge, thankful the softer ground proved easier on his feet. He stared ahead at brighter, larger lights and picked up his pace. Wouldn’t be long now and he’d be with his buddy again. Shit, they had so much to catch up on. Okay, they spoke over the phone and instant messenger, but it wasn’t the same, was it? Not like sitting side by side, a beer in hand, with facial expressions and body language to drink in. Christ, he’d missed Lee’s body language. The way he used his hands to explain things, all waves and arm jerks, fascinated Ryan, and his eyebrows—how he got only one to shoot up, Ryan didn’t know. Excited now, he pushed himself to walk faster. The first house on the outskirts stood up ahead, and he almost ran to it, pleased the lights blazed, indicating someone was still up and awake. He needed directions to the hill—Lee’s explanation on how to get there had confused the hell out of him years ago when he’d told Ryan all about Biddingford.

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Nervous, he approached the small cottage, walking up the garden path. He’d heard village folk didn’t take kindly to strangers, and Lee had said it had taken them a while to get used to him. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door, silently berating himself for allowing something so simple to affect him. The light flicked on behind the two glass panels, and a black figure moved toward the door. A chain rattled, and the door swung wide, revealing a stooped old lady wrapped in a pink fleece dressing gown. She squinted up at him, one rheumy eye releasing a tear, the wrinkles around her lips telling Ryan she’d either smoked for most of her life or perpetually went around with pursed lips. “What d’you want?” she said, voice terse, the curlers in her hair bobbing. “Ain’t seen you before.” “Um, sorry to bother you, but could you give me directions to the cabin on the hill?” “Ah!” She raised a gnarled hand, finger pointing toward him. “One of them, are you? Tsk.” She stepped back and began closing the door. “Please, wait. If you could just tell me—”

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“Piss off!” The door closed, the chain tinkled back into place, and the light went off. Huffing out a breath, Ryan blinked, trying to take in what had just happened. Shit, he knew people like her existed, but to encounter one so damn rude—besides Lee’s mother—was a first for him. He walked back down the garden path and headed toward the next house on the opposite side of the road a few meters away. Let’s hope I get a better reception at this place. Jesus. Once there, he knocked on the door, readying himself for more of what he’d just received. This time, after the light went on, the door opened with the chain still in place. A face peeped out of the gap—a black-haired woman of about forty, eyes wide, brows raised. “Yes?” She gripped the door, knuckles pronounced. “Uh, sorry to trouble you, but I wondered if you’d mind telling me how to get to the cabin on the hill. My, uh, friend lives there.” “Lee? That who you want?” Ryan smiled. “Yes. Yes please.”

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“Hang on.” She closed the door and walked away, her shape vanishing at the end of the hallway. It appeared again a moment later, and once again she opened the door, chain secure. “Here.” The woman shoved a piece of paper at him. He took it, looking down at what she’d written—a series of lefts, rights, and straight aheads. Glancing back up, he said, “Thanks.” The door closed, and Ryan walked back to the road and followed the directions. Clusters of houses came into view now, and roads branched off the main one, more homes evident by the yellow glows shining through the windows. At the end of the road, he took a left and walked a twig-strewn path that led upward. Trees bordered it, their leafy canopies joining high above his head to obscure the moon. A night critter scuttled in the undergrowth, shitting the life out of him, and he strode faster, unused to the countryside and what lived in it. Feeling claustrophobic in the tunnel-like foliage, Ryan let out a sigh of relief at seeing the trees thinned out, giving way to the hill and the open pathway that led to the top.

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He stared up. Only one light shone in the cabin—possibly a living room or kitchen—and he imagined Lee inside, watching TV or reading one of those Sci-Fi books he loved so much. The trek almost finished him off, but he reached the top, exultant that he’d managed it only a little out of breath. Speeding up, he approached the cabin, feeling foolish that his knees had decided to mess him about and go rubbery. It’s only Lee. It’ll be just like old times, like I’ve never been away. But what if it wasn’t? What if their easy camaraderie on the phone drained away once they came face to face? What if Lee was busy and Ryan couldn’t stay there? Shit, he should have asked to come. Springing it on Lee wasn’t the best plan he’d had. Indecision warred inside him, and he pulled out his phone. I’ll ring him. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Ring him and see if he fancies a visit. He pressed the speed dial button for Lee’s number and listened to the ringing in his ear and the dull peal filtering through the cabin window.

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“Hello, mate,” Lee said, sounding chipper and pleased to hear from him. “How’re you doing?” “All right. You?” “Fine, fine. Watching a bit of TV. You?” “Um, just been for a long walk.” “What? Tell me you’re taking the piss.” “Nope. Hill walking.” “You? Fucking hill walking?” “Yeah. Listen, I was wondering, d’you feel ready for a visit yet?” “What, from you?” “Yeah.” “Fuck yeah. When were you thinking of coming?” “Now.” “Now?” “Yeah. Open your front door.” “What?” “Just do it.” The shuffle of Lee moving came down the line, and a light flicked on, glowing through the glass in the front door. Lee’s figure stood behind a netted curtain, the same broad shoulders— broader, even—than Ryan remembered. Ryan

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jogged toward the cabin, stopping a few meters away as the front door opened, showcasing the man he’d missed and thought about for such a long time. The white T-shirt, tight on his biceps, showcased muscles he’d grown since coming here. Blue jeans moulded to the tops of his legs, and bare feet poked out from under the hems. Lee squinted, phone pressed to his ear, and Ryan grinned. Lowering the phone, Lee said, “That you?” Ryan laughed and stepped closer, cutting the call and slipping his phone in a pocket. “Yep.” “Fuck me! How…? What…?” “A beer would be nice.” Ryan walked up to the door. “But a hug’ll do.” Lee’s smile tamed Ryan’s nerves but sped up his heart, had his stomach rolling over. Lee’s arms enveloped him, and the pat on his back cemented their friendship once more. It’s going to be all right. Shit, everything’s okay. Ryan pulled back, the urge to kiss Lee’s lips like a tangible thing, as though it had hands that pushed their heads together. A brief brush and then Lee stepped away, ushering him inside.

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“What a fucking shock! But shit, it’s good to see you,” Lee said, closing the door and walking down a short hallway with stairs to the left. Ryan followed and entered a kitchen, the wooden worktops looking like they hadn’t been changed for years. Happiness bubbled up inside him. To finally be here with Lee after all this time! Christ, it was like they’d never been apart. “Want a beer, mate?” Lee asked, putting the phone on the side and opening the fridge. He nodded at Ryan’s bag. “Dump that on the floor. I’ll sort out the spare room later. I don’t have many guests. Sheets need changing.” He handed Ryan a can of lager, grin filling his face. “Can’t believe you just did that to me! Nice surprise, though. Shit. Come here!” Ryan stepped into Lee’s arms, the coldness from the fridge seeping through his coat, and he felt absurd for having tears in his eyes. He blinked them away and rested his cheek on Lee’s chest, where he needed to be, wanted to be since the day his first love had left town. Lee’s scent, a woodsy aftershave and the unique smell that belonged only to his friend, wafted up. Ryan took

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it in, unable to quite believe he was here. He smoothed his hands up and down Lee’s back, the breadth wider, the muscles more defined than before, and wondered if his thighs and calves had grown too. Their close proximity and the sheer excitement of being here got to Ryan, and he wanted to laugh it out—really laugh until his ribs hurt. He raised his head and looked at Lee. “Shit, I’ve missed you.” Lee’s eyebrow rose, and he smiled, a lopsided grin that had Ryan’s stomach flipping. “Didn’t realise how much until I saw you, but I’ve missed you too.” Lee gripped the tops of Ryan’s arms and squeezed. “Come on into the living room.” He let Ryan go, handed him a beer, and closed the fridge, leading the way back down the hall and opening a door on the left. “Got a lot to catch up on.” Ryan stepped into the room, taking in Lee flopping onto a black leather recliner in his peripheral vision—and a man sprawled out on the sofa straight ahead.

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BLINDED ~ Chapter Two The bottom fell out of Ryan’s world. Hadn’t he known this would happen? Hadn’t he told himself Lee would have found someone by now? God, he wished he hadn’t come. Wished Lee had told him before now he’d got himself settled. And why hadn’t he? Did he think Ryan wouldn’t be able to handle it? “Take a pew,” Lee said, clearly oblivious to the turmoil raging inside Ryan. “Budge up, Josh.” Ryan, feeling awkward and young again, stepped toward the sofa. Josh swung his feet off

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and sat at the end nearest Lee. He nodded and watched Ryan sit at the other end. Anxiety spiralled inside him, and he had the urge to run, get the hell out of there and not look back. After all, he still had his coat and hat on, and he was buggered if he was going to take them off. He’d feel exposed—more so than he did already. He affected nonchalance and stared at Lee, who picked up a can of beer from a small table beside his chair and sipped. “Shit,” Lee said. “Should be introducing you, shouldn’t I? Ryan, this is Josh. Josh, this is Ryan.” “All right?” Josh said, his bright smile and twinkling eyes a punch to Ryan’s gut. Ryan nodded and opened his beer, taking a mouthful. It tasted sour—or was that the bile at the back of his throat? His stomach clenched, and he gazed around the room for something to do. Tongue-and-groove covered the walls, glazed with a pine-coloured varnish. A large canvas, a reproduction of something by Monet if Ryan guessed right, hung over the TV in the corner beside the window. Wooden floors matched the

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walls, and a black shaggy rug covered the floor in front of the sofa and chair. Ryan wondered if they’d chosen the décor together, and a stab of jealousy took his breath away. I need to go. Shouldn’t have come. “So, you’re Lee’s friend from years back, yeah?” Josh asked, lifting one ankle up to rest it on his knee. “Heard a lot about you.” Ryan swallowed. “All good, I hope.” What the fuck did I say that for? Josh laughed. “Yep, all good. So, what prompted this surprise visit, then?” Like I’m going to be telling you. “Uh, I just came on a whim. You know, to do something different for a change.” Jealousy gripped Ryan harder, squeezing his guts, and he couldn’t stop himself asking, “Known Lee long?” “Long enough.” Josh laughed again, the sound irritating as hell, tinny and smug. Ryan looked to Lee for support. Come on. Out with it. Tell me he’s your bloke and I’ll fuck off. Get out of your way. Lee drained his can and put it back on the table. “Josh, didn’t you say you had stuff to do?”

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He gave him a look as if to tell him to go into another room. “Me and Ryan have got a lot to catch up on. Old times to talk about.” Josh lowered his foot, a lazy motion that pissed Ryan off, proving Lee’s bloke didn’t relish leaving them alone and being out of the picture. “Ah. I see, you want to be alone.” Josh winked and stood. “Anyway, I’ve got to be getting back. Sue’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.” Sue? Josh turned to face Ryan. “Nice to meet you. You staying long?” Ryan blushed, realisation dawning as Josh reached down the side of the sofa, brought out a coat, and slipped into it. “Um, I’m not sure. Depends on Lee.” God, do I feel like a bastard. “Stay as long as you like, mate,” Lee said. “And Josh? Hurry up and piss off out of here. I’ll see you at work on Monday.” “All right, all right! Jesus!” Josh winked at Ryan. “You just hope he doesn’t treat you like this. Nice meeting you. Safe journey home if I don’t see you before you leave.”

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He held out a hand, and Ryan reached out to shake it, guilt and shame flooding his cheeks. Seemed like Josh was just a friend, and straight if the name Sue was anything to go by. Shit. Josh left the room, hand raised, and his footsteps receded, disappearing as the front door closed. Ryan looked at Lee, who flung a throw cushion at him, a great big smile on his face. “You thought he was my bloke, didn’t you?” Ryan’s face heated further. “No, not at all. Don’t know what you’re on about.” “You did, didn’t you? Aww, shit!” Lee got up and plunked himself down beside Ryan, face serious. “I haven’t been with anyone other than you, you know.” What? “Um, really? How come?” “Because…well, I needed to find myself, didn’t I? Told you that when I left. Couldn’t do that with a man in my life, but now? Yeah, I think I’m ready to start again.” Bet he’s got someone in mind. Someone he’s met at work or someplace. “Good for you. Someone nice?”

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“Yup.” Ryan stared at the Monet, emotions swirling through him: guilt at thinking Josh a jerk, shame at realising he wasn’t, and envy toward the man who Lee had chosen as a partner. I’m too late. I waited, thinking we had something back then, and now it’s all gone to shit. “You,” Lee said, nudging him in the ribs. “If you’ll still have me.” Ryan turned his head, staring at Lee wide eyed and open mouthed. He hadn’t heard right. Couldn’t have, because Lee had said— Lee leaned across, his nose bumping against Ryan’s, and smoothed his hand up Ryan’s coatcovered chest. Their lips met, and a burning fire took over them. Lee undid the coat, and Ryan shirked out of it, his movements awkward while they still kissed. Lee broke away and straddled him, sitting on his thighs. He slid his hands beneath Ryan’s T-shirt, fingers and palms gliding up his belly and back down again. Ryan’s cock hardened, strained against his jeans, and Lee must have sensed it. He popped open the button and lowered the zip, freeing Ryan’s cock with long

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fingers. They curled around it, the touch sending Ryan dizzy. He stared at Lee, willing him to move that hand and make him come hard and fast. This wasn’t how he’d expected it to be, but it didn’t matter. Urgency gripped him, and he wanted to touch and taste every part of Lee all at once. Lee released Ryan’s cock and stood, pulling Ryan upright with him. They stared at each other, the silent message saying they needed to get undressed. Now. Helping one another out, they shed their clothing, tossing it to the floor then moving together into an embrace where cocks and chests met. Hands roved asses, hips circled, and bollocks brushed together. God. God, this is so fucking intense. Ryan crushed his lips to Lee’s, and their kiss grew frantic, a coupling of tongues that set Ryan’s cock to throbbing. Lee guided his hands up Ryan’s back, settling his palms on his shoulders and pushing Ryan down. Ryan kneeled, and without hesitation took Lee’s cock into his mouth. Lee’s hands on Ryan’s head set the pace, and Ryan gripped the other’s ass,

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kneading the soft yet taut flesh. Lee’s girth stretched his mouth wide, the tip of his cock skating against the roof of his mouth before butting the back of his throat. Lee moaned then muttered curses, and Ryan sucked harder, wanting to taste his cum for the first time. “Ah! Wait!” Lee hissed, easing his cock out and kneeling before Ryan. “This way. Please.” He lay on the floor, and Ryan sunk that cock into his mouth again, hand slipping between Lee’s legs to finger the soft strip between ass hole and bollocks. Lee whispered, hips bucking, “I want you to do something. Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Thought about it at night. Wondered…ah…if you’d be up for it.” Ryan pulled up on his cock and took it from his mouth, turning to face Lee. “What is it?” “My belt. On my jeans.” Lee blushed. “Would you tie my wrists?” Ryan stared at him, unable to believe he’d heard right. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do it or that the request shocked him—more along

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the lines that tying Lee’s wrists would have him shooting his load right now. He scooted over to the jeans and yanked the belt from the loops, returning to kneel beside Lee, his cock throbbing to a painful degree. Lee held his wrists up together, and Ryan wrapped the belt around them, securing the buckle. “Come here.” Lee raised his arms and patted Ryan’s leg. “Give me your cock.” Ryan moved over Lee, knees either side of his head, cock pointing toward Lee’s mouth. His guts lurched with excitement, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He lowered as much as he could without lying completely flat, and Lee took him into his mouth. God, that felt so fucking good, and he sucked Lee’s cock the way he wanted Lee to suck his, with hard, unforgiving pulls. Pressure built, and the combination of Ryan sucking and being sucked proved too much. The base of his cock throbbed along with the vein in Lee’s, and Ryan came, his groans and murmurs muffled around Lee’s hardness. On Ryan’s second shot, Lee’s cum filled his mouth, and he

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swallowed to make room for more. Ryan spilled into Lee again, two gushes in rapid succession, and he juddered above him, the rhythm he’d acquired going out of beat. He pulled up on Lee’s cock, milking the rest of his cum, tongue flat against the shaft, lips tight. He raised his ass, easing himself out of Lee’s mouth, that soft wetness too much now on his sensitive tip. He lifted his head, and Lee’s cock left his lips with a soft pop. Heart beating wildly and bubbles of exhilaration in his gut, Ryan manoeuvred so he rested beside Lee, the rug soft on his skin. They lay on their backs, panting, sweating, legs knotted together. Ryan put the back of his hand to his brow, waiting for his breathing to settle. He laughed, then said, “Fuck, that was good.” “It was.” Lee turned his head to look at him. “Better than our first attempt.” “Yeah.” Ryan laughed again, thoughts of Lee’s mother coming to the fore. “Yeah.” Long moments passed, and Ryan contemplated what would happen next. Things

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just couldn’t change. Not now. Not when they’d shared something like this and worked together so well. He replayed the past few minutes in his mind, needing to brand it there in case this was one of the only memories he’d have once he told Lee his reason for being here. Despite his mind being crowded with images, sleep crept upon him, and his eyelids drooped. “Reckon it’s bedtime,” Lee said. “I didn’t get a chance to ask. How did you get here? You passed your driving test without telling me?” Ryan yawned and sat up, undoing the belt. “No. I got lifts then walked the last couple of miles.” “Shit, no wonder you’re half asleep. Come on.” He trailed Lee upstairs, still naked, and climbed into bed beside him, the sheets smelling of Lee, the mattress a balm on his aching muscles. As though he’d always done it, he nestled against his lover, head on his chest, leg draped over the other’s. He shut his eyes, and Lee whispered, “Need you here.”

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Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but sleep closed around him at the same time as Lee’s arms.

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BLINDED ~ Chapter Three Ryan

woke, disconcerted for a moment at

opening his eyes to a strange room. Faint sunlight tried to infiltrate the blackout blind, only succeeding in seeping around the edges, bleeding onto the wall like a square, dull aura. He rolled onto his side and studied Lee while he slept, his lover facing him. How had he ever spent so long away from him? He smiled wryly. By knowing if you let someone go they come back to you, that’s how. Or so the saying goes, anyway. He wanted to stroke Lee’s face but feared waking him, so stuffed his hands between his

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legs. Taking in Lee’s stubbled jaw line, he imagined how it would feel against his skin and squirmed with the twitching of his cock. His love for Lee blinded him with its intensity, always had, and nothing could change that. If things went wrong, well, he’d just have to deal with it, but no matter what, your first love always held a special place in your heart, didn’t they? He thought about that for a moment and realised how naive he was. Didn’t his mum marry her first love and hate him now? I can’t see Lee making me hate him, though what I’ve come to tell him might have him hating me for not telling him sooner. I’ll do it today. Get it over with. His stomach churned at the prospect, and he shoved the thoughts way, filling his mind with memories of last night. Their frantic coupling had surprised him. He’d dreamed of it since they’d been parted, imagined it would be slow and tender, romantic, even. It wasn’t, but it didn’t matter. Hopefully there was plenty of time for ease and gentleness—if he didn’t mess up what he’d come to do.

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He sighed, his stomach knotting again, and tried to go back to sleep. Mind alive and in no mood to cooperate, he opened his eyes, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. How many times had he done this over the past four years, tormenting himself as to who shared Lee’s life? He shook his head. Many wasted hours in the middle of the night spent worrying, only for his suspicions to be dashed by Lee’s admittance that there had been no one since Ryan. Wow. That they’d both abstained from sex, from getting involved with someone else—that had to mean something, right? Unable to lie still any longer, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, picking his clothes up from the living room floor and dressing quickly. He’d shower later and wash away the fatigue that lingered in his bones from all that walking yesterday. Besides, he didn’t like to make too much noise and wake Lee. In the kitchen, he familiarised himself with the layout and put the kettle on to boil, then stared out the window at miles of countryside. The view, all patchwork fields in greens and

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browns, was a comfort to look at and calmed him a little. The sun hung just above the horizon, and its bright light gave the illusion of a summer’s day. The frost on the grass just outside told a different story, and he had the urge to go out there in the bracing cold to shock the tiredness from him. Kettle boiled, he made a coffee and found some keys in a box on the wall. It took a few tries to find the right one, but he unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chilly patio numbing his bare feet. The air worked its magic, and he woke fully, body as alert as his mind. He sipped his coffee, steam from the mug thick due to the outside temperature, and his breaths puffed out in white clouds. Goose bumps popped up on his skin, and he went back inside to get his coat. Lee stood in the kitchen doorway, tousle headed and sleepy eyed, a pair of grey jersey tracksuit bottoms on. “Thought I’d dreamed it when I woke up to find you gone.” “Couldn’t sleep. Always the same when I sleep somewhere other than my own bed. You all right?”

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“Yeah. Shut the door, will you? Bloody cold!” He winked and clicked on the kettle. “You all right?” Ryan closed the door. “Yeah, thanks. Got anything planned for today?” Lee yawned. “I was going into the next town over to do the weekly shop—nothing exciting— but I think I’ve got enough to last the weekend if you’d rather not go.” “I don’t mind either way. Whatever you want.” Lee poured kettle water into a cup. “We could go to the pub for lunch. Give the villagers something to talk about.” He smiled and put the kettle down, then mimicked gossiping mouths with his hands. Ryan smiled, leaned his elbows on the worktop beside Lee, and looked out the window again. “Could do.” He paused, then, “How long did it take you to get used to living up here?” Stirring in coffee and sugar, Lee said, “About six months. Was too quiet at first, but then again, that’s what I needed. Peace to think. Now, I don’t think I could go back to a town to live. Too much going on. Too many people wanting to know your

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business. All right, there are a few here who are the same, but for the most part they avoid me. Phobic, see. That has its uses.” He smiled again then sipped his drink. “Come on. Living room. Bloody nippy in here.” Ryan followed him down the hall. In the living room, Lee flicked on a three-bar fire, put his coffee on the table, and moved to sit in his recliner then changed his mind. Flopping onto the sofa, he looked up at Ryan and frowned. “You sure you’re all right?” Ryan nodded and sat at the other end. “Yeah, course I am.” “Any regrets?” “No. Fuck no! It’s just…” I can’t do it. Can’t tell him. “Just what?” Lee sat upright, worry tightening his features. “Look, if you’ve got something to say, say it. Whatever’s worrying you, we’ll sort it out. You forget I know you. Know when something’s bugging your arse. So come on. Out with it.” Shit. Ryan’s heart sped up, and his pulse throbbed, the sound so loud he couldn’t hear

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anything else for a moment. He swallowed. Just tell him. Get it over with. “Your mum—” Lee frowned. “What about her?” Ryan stared at him. Deep gouges in Lee’s brow indicated his annoyance at the mention of his mother. Hadn’t he said he didn’t want anything more to do with her? Didn’t want to know anything about her? But this was different, wasn’t it? No way could Ryan withhold that kind of information. Lee’s downturned mouth spurred him on to get it over and done with. “I don’t know how to say this or how you’ll take it, and I’m only bringing a message because I think you have a right to know. She’s, uh, she’s dead.” Blunt and to the point, Ryan. Well done. Lee’s mouth opened and closed, and he reached for his coffee, taking a large gulp and staring at the doorway. “Right. And why did I need to know this? You know how I feel about her.” He glanced at Ryan then looked back at the hallway. “It wasn’t just her reaction when we were younger. She’s always tried to manipulate me,

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treated me like I had to do what she wanted or suffer the consequences. It was never simple, my life. She was slap happy; you saw the bruises enough times to know that. Best thing I ever did coming here.” “I’m sorry.” Ryan felt sick. He sensed Lee’s barely suppressed anger and wished he’d got someone else to come here and do what the old lady asked, but wasn’t it better that Ryan had come? “Look, I know how you feel, but it isn’t like you think. She left two notes. One for whoever found her, and one for you.” Lee’s wry, bitter-sounding laughter cut the air. “Ah, she was still on form right until the end, then. Manipulating people to do what she wanted. Come on then, what did the note say? And who found her? And how the fuck did you get to hear about it? May as well hear the whole sordid tale.” “Uh, she asked that the police not come and inform you that she’d gone—that one of your friends had to do it. Me, actually, though no one else offered anyway. Her next door neighbour heard the…noise and went to check on her. They

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apparently had each other’s house keys. And she knew someone who knew me—knew me and you had been friends as kids. And, uh, she left you some money. It’s in my bag.” “Don’t want it.” Lee stood and walked over to the window, staring out at a village that had never accepted him. Much like his mother. Christ, poor bastard. “Didn’t think you would, but I brought it anyway.” Lee sighed and sipped his coffee. “Suppose you’re going to tell me she died in her sleep, all peaceful, no suffering. Not what I wished for her, I can tell you. And yeah, I sound a bastard, but you weren’t brought up by her. You—” “Hey!” Ryan got up and stood beside him, placing his hand on his arm. “I know all this, don’t I? No need to explain it to me. I understand, all right? I only came because if I didn’t tell you, you’ve got to admit you’d wonder why. It’s one of those situations where I can’t do right for doing wrong, but that’s okay. I expected that.” Nodding, Lee said, “Sorry. Not your fault. It’s just…when I think of her, all the bad comes back, know what I mean? Like it was all happening

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again, except I see it in my head. But I feel it inside. Still fucking feel it, as if it was fresh. God!” He sniffed and sipped again. “So how was it? How did she go?” Ryan hiked in a deep breath. Tell him. Just say it how it was. “She shot herself.” Lee’s head whipped round to face him, his widened eyes wild and bright. “What? My old dear killed herself?” He huffed out a laugh. “How the hell did she get hold of a gun? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Lightly squeezing Lee’s arm, Ryan shook his head, words failing him for a moment. He swallowed then said, “D’you want the money and the note?” “No. Reckon she’ll have written a load of bollocks about what a disappointment I was. I already know that, so what’s the point in reminding myself? And as for the money… Give it to charity or something.” “But it’s twenty grand, Lee. I shit myself bringing it all this way. It’s in cash. Her neighbour got it and the notes out of the house before the police arrived.”

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“Doesn’t matter how much it is. Don’t you see? Anything from her is tainted. Even me. I can’t even bring myself to forgive, can I?” He sighed and left the window, pacing up and down the room. “Look, I hate to do this to you, but uh, could you give me some space?” Ryan’s stomach plummeted, and his immediate thought was that if he left, Lee wouldn’t want to see him again. Christ, I’m a selfish bastard. Let him have his time alone. Last thing he’ll be thinking of is me. Go. Leave him be. “Sure. I’ll, uh… Well, I’ll go back home, all right? Give you a ring tomorrow or something.” Lee stopped pacing and turned to face him. “No. I don’t mean… Not that far away. Don’t go back yet.” “Oh. Right. Uh, okay. I’ll go into the village for a bit then, yeah?” Lee nodded, his knuckles white as he gripped his cup. “Yeah. Only for a bit, though. I’ll ring you. Come and meet you after I’ve had a think.” “All right. I’ll, um, go and freshen up, then.” Ryan left the room, guts churning, sick to his stomach that he’d hurt Lee with this news,

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dredged up the past, making Lee go right back to childhood all over again. But what else could he have done? In the kitchen, he rooted in his bag for clean clothes, fingers brushing the large envelope full of money and the smaller one containing the note. He took out some jeans and a black T-shirt, followed by boxers and socks. Heart heavy, he went upstairs to the bathroom, annoyed with himself for forgetting to bring up his wash bag. Making do, he put his clothes on the floor and brushed his teeth using his finger. Finished, he switched the shower on, as hot as he could stand it, and stepped into the cubicle. The image of Lee downstairs all alone hurt his heart, and he resisted the urge to get out and go down to give him comfort. He knew Lee too well, though. If he said he needed space, he needed it. It would only cause friction if Ryan ignored his request. Once clean, he dried himself off and dressed, jeans sticking to his semi-damp skin as he pulled them up. He hung the towel on a door hook and collected his dirty clothes. Returning downstairs, he grimaced as anxiety rushed through him.

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Back in the living room, he expected Lee to be there and raised his eyebrows, fretting over where he’d gone. For God’s sake! He’s a grown man. Stop worrying. Boots and coat on, he pulled his beanie over his head and walked to the kitchen. Lee stood staring out the window in the back door, dry eyed, jaw clenched. Ryan reached into his bag and took out the envelopes. “I’ll, uh, leave these here.” He placed them on the worktop. “Just in case you—” “All right. Thanks.” Lee continued to stare. “Um, I’ll be off then. You, uh, you take care okay?” Lee nodded. “Will do.” Ryan had the urge to go to him, to offer a hug, anything, but instead walked out and down the hall, checking his phone and wallet were in his coat pocket. Outside, he closed the front door and stood on the path, looking out over the village. He’d probably get a frosty reception if the old lady was anything to go by, and he inhaled a lungful of air before heading for the path that led downhill.

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With time to think himself, he considered what Lee had said last night. Need you here. Did he dare entertain what that could mean? It could have just been something said as the pull of sleep tugged him, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was more than that? Lee’s admission that he couldn’t return to a town meant that to make this work, Ryan would have to move into the cabin. He could do that all right, but after each of them had lived alone for so long, wouldn’t they annoy one another after a while? He exhaled and tromped down the path, fatigue making a reappearance. At the bottom of the hill, he headed toward the main road, spotting a sign that read Market Street. Taking that turning, he ended up at what could only be described as a row of buildings that catered for the villager’s bare essentials. A small convenience store boasted posters in the window of so-called special offers that were big fat lies. Paying over the odds for a loaf of bread wasn’t Ryan’s idea of special, and he turned his attention to a newsagents that doubled as a post office. A pub stood on the corner, its swinging

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sign proclaiming it The Boar’s Head, and he walked up to it and peered through the window, gratified to see they kept town hours. He glanced at his watch: ten-thirty. Too early for a beer, but he spied an old man in the corner drinking from a large cup and reading a newspaper. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Talk about walking into the past. Everything appeared as it might have done more than a couple of decades ago. Brasses hung either side of a grey brick fireplace, and old-fashioned mirrors graced the walls, their gaudy advertisements like something from the ‘80s. Cream paint covered anaglypta wallpaper, thick from many layers added over the years, the corners warped and coming away from the walls. It stunk of cigarette smoke, despite the modern ban of lighting up in public places, and the source of the smell came from a middle-aged man sitting at the bar. Ryan assumed it was business as usual here. After all, the police were hardly going to bother coming to this village unless they were called out.

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Ryan approached the bar and leaned his arms on it. The black-haired woman who had given him directions breezed through a door at the back and approached him, a smile of recognition brightening her face. “Hello! What can I get you?” She grasped an ale pump, head tilted as she regarded him. “Uh, a coffee would be good, thanks.” “Too early for a beer, eh?” She smiled and turned to the rear bar, lifting a carafe from the coffee machine and pouring the dark liquid into a cup. “Sugar and creamer?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. “Please. Thanks.” She placed two sugar sachets and a tiny tub of cream beside the cup on a saucer and handed him the brew. “Ninety pence. Free biscuit, though, if you want one.” Ryan took out his wallet and handed her the money. “No thanks. D’you get busy?” he asked, more for something to say than really wanting to know. “Not really. Quiz night brings a few in, and today we’ll have a straggle, it being Saturday and

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what not, but most of the time it’s pretty dead.” She smiled again, shifting her weight onto one leg, her wide hips telling of possible childbirth. “So, you got to Lee’s all right then?” “Yeah. Directions were spot on. Thanks.” “Good. Did he not come into the village with you?” “Uh, no.” “Everything all right?” He feigned brightness. “Yeah, he’s just a bit busy. Meeting me later.” “Ah, right. Just that you look a bit troubled.” Though she was pleasant enough, her enquires pissed him off. He supposed a newcomer to the village brought a break from the norm and it was only natural that she asked questions, but shit! “I’m all right,” he said. “Bit tired from walking last night, that’s all.” He lifted his cup and saucer. “I’m going to, uh, going to sit over by the window for a bit.” Nodding, he moved to walk away. “Did you want a free biscuit?” She raised her eyebrows.

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“Um, no thanks.” Getting away while he could, Ryan went over to a table in front of the large window that afforded him a view of the whole street. He could see Lee coming when he was ready to come meet him. But what if he isn’t? What if he needs all day? I can’t sit here until tonight. I’ll give it until two then ring him. If he still wants to be alone, I’ll nip back to his place and collect my bag. Go home. Come back when he’s ready. If he’s ready. That last thought scared him.

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BLINDED ~ Chapter Four Ryan’s phone chirped, indicating he’d received a text message. He jumped. Having waited so long, he’d convinced himself Lee wasn’t going to call. It might not even be him. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. HER FUNERAL BEEN ARRANGED YET? He replied: NO. THERE’S AN ENQUIRY BECAUSE OF THE GUN. He waited for a response. Too many coffees sitting in his belly griped his stomach, and he stared at the menu behind the bar. Today’s special was pea soup

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with a crusty roll and the main was cottage pie and beans. The soup didn’t appeal, but the pie did. He’d order one in a minute once Lee texted back. His phone chirped again. NEED YOU. COME BACK. He stood, replying as he walked to the door, sending back the message that he was on his way. Outside, the cold air slapped him after the warmth of the pub, and he hunched his shoulders, standing his collar up to keep his neck warm. The walk seemed to take forever, despite him almost jogging, the climb up the hill longer still. At the top, he panted and walked toward the cabin, wanting nothing more than to run. So why didn’t he? If he was honest, he was wary of what he’d find inside. Could he handle a tearful Lee? An angry Lee? He’d have to. He knocked on the door, only for it to swing open, no Lee on the other side. Heart thrumming, Ryan stepped inside and closed the door, going straight to the living room. No Lee. He checked the kitchen, and on finding it

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empty, he looked out the window just in case Lee had needed some air. He hadn’t. The garden remained deserted. He took the stairs two at a time and entered Lee’s bedroom, the drawn curtains giving it the air of being later than it was. Lee rested on his side, curled up in a ball. The envelopes lay next to him, the smaller one open, the corner of the paper inside poking out. “Uh, you all right?” Ryan asked, cursing himself for saying something so stupid. Clearly Lee wasn’t all right. He’d been crying by the looks of it. “Yeah. I am now. You?” Lee stared at the wall. Ryan moved to the bed and sat on the edge. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Silence encompassed the room, and Ryan searched for something to say. But what could he say in this situation without either upsetting him or making him angry? He waited for Lee to supply something, anything to give him some idea of how the next few minutes would go.

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“Haven’t been crying for her,” Lee said, hands fisted beneath his chin. “Cried for the kid I was. For how different things could have been if she wasn’t the way she was. Her letter… She killed herself out of guilt. For pushing me away. Took to going to church after I left, so she said. Made her see a few things. S’pose the guilt got to her in the end. Funny, because I heard the Bible didn’t tolerate the likes of us.” He laughed, a dry, empty sound. “Maybe it was the Christian shit in there that got to her. Who knows? Who fucking cares. It doesn’t rub out all the things she did while I grew up. Doesn’t make anything better.” He blinked, and a tear trickled across the bridge of his nose. “Wants me to have the money to make up for all the crap she put me through. Said I should spend it to bring me some happiness. That she hadn’t given me much of that.” He paused for long moments. “What would you do?” Ryan held out his hand, praying Lee would take it. He did. “I don’t know. I really don’t. It’s something you’ve got to decide. If you think you deserve it,

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then take it, but if you’d feel sick spending it, don’t. You’ve got enough to live on. You don’t need it. So what does it matter what you do with it?” “Thought the same.” Lee squeezed Ryan’s hand. “Sorry about shutting you out.” “It’s all right. Nothing to worry about.” He braced himself to ask the next question, worried he’d get a shouted answer and Lee’s disapproval. “Uh, you going back to sort out the funeral?” Lee sighed. “S’pose I should. Make sure she’s really dead.” He chuckled, though it didn’t sound mean. Not really. “Want me to go with you?” Nodding, Lee said, “If you wouldn’t mind.” He took his gaze from the wall and looked at Ryan. “She mentioned you. In the letter.” Ryan frowned. “Did she?” “Yeah, said she’d always liked you, and if I couldn’t bring myself to like girls, she’d have preferred us two to get together rather than me pick someone else and be unhappy. She always did have to spoil her rare nice times with a barbed comment. Still, after all these years, I finally got

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her approval on something. I hate to admit it, but it means a lot, you know? I mean, growing up like I did, I just wanted her to love me like your mum loves you. Just wanted to do something that she’d be proud of. And I s’pose her approving of you, despite you being a bloke, is as close as I’m going to get.” A lump formed in Ryan’s throat, and he forced himself to speak around it. “So, uh, d’you think you’re going to be all right?” “Yeah. Once I get a hug from you.” Relief surged through Ryan, and he settled down beside Lee, stroking his face, fingers jolting over the wet skin. Lee hugged Ryan to him, their legs tangled together, arms holding one another tightly. His ear against Lee’s chest, Ryan listened to the steady thud of the other’s heart, the beats out of sync with his own. His cock hardened, and he chastised himself for feeling this way when Lee was upset and had more important things on his mind. Lee lifted his arm and took off Ryan’s hat, smoothing his hand over the shaved hair. “It’s okay, you know.”

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Taking Lee’s words to mean his situation, Ryan smiled and nodded. Lee looked down between them, and Ryan understood. “Sorry, it’s just…when I’m near you…” “Like I said, it’s okay. Life for the living doesn’t stop when someone dies. We carry on, don’t we? And I’ll get over this in time. Shit, I’ve coped with it all so far, haven’t I? Just got a few extras to sort out in my head, that’s all.” He leaned forward and rubbed Ryan’s nose with his. “I, uh, I really care about you. You know that, don’t you?” The lump in Ryan’s throat expanded. “Yeah. Always have, always will.” Lee put his groin to Ryan’s, showing his own desire. Relieved, Ryan waited for the next move to come from his lover. It did with the sweeping of one hand up and down his back, the shedding of their clothes, then a finger dipping into the top of his ass cleft. Ryan’s hips bucked involuntarily, and his cock pressed closer, their rigidity clean and hot and pure, their primal urges overtaking sorrow and distress. Lee’s

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finger trailed down the crease to rub over Ryan’s pucker, the slow up and down tightening his bollocks and stirring a drip of pre-cum to dribble. God, he gets me so fucking hot so quickly. A flash of the times he’d had to fist himself to completion came to mind. Never, during those nights, had he come so close so fast. Nothing beat intimate contact, the touches that sent his desires rocketing, pushing like a hard shove. He returned the caress, finger in the same place, moving at the same speed. They stared at one another, Ryan waiting for those lips to brush his, complementing the sensations on his ass hole. Lee’s head remained where it was on the pillow, but his other hand came up between them and grasped both their cocks, setting a rhythm at odds with the strokes on their puckers. Ryan brought his hand up to grip Lee’s wrist, guiding him to a slower, more sensual tempo that pushed his bliss up several notches. He wanted it languid, meaningful, a complete exploration of one another. He needed to see if the reality matched his imaginings. Lee

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leaned forward and kissed him—and the reality surpassed anything he had ever envisaged. The soft beauty of that kiss robbed Ryan’s breath and prompted tears. It was okay to cry, wasn’t it? Cry at the brilliance of being together? A tear trickled from one closed eye and dripped onto the pillow. Don’t let him have seen it. He kissed Lee harder, wanting to convey how much he’d missed him, needed him. Lee responded, their tongues searching out the other’s, the strokes on their cocks gaining a little more speed. Lee’s finger slipped inside Ryan’s ass, and Ryan lifted his knee up over Lee’s hip to give him better access. His sheath tightened around the finger as it moved up and down, twisting in search of the nub that would send Ryan over the edge. Lee located it, rubbing circles over it, and the familiar tingle at the root of Ryan’s cock turned into a throbbing insistence that heralded him coming very soon. He eased his finger into Lee’s ass and mimicked him. His cock pulsed in time with Lee’s, and Ryan kissed harder, faster,

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moving his hand to quicken the pace on their cocks. They pushed against one another at the same time, chests meeting, hands squashed between them, fingers working ass holes and nubs with faster strokes. Ryan’s sheath clenched Lee’s finger a second before his cock gave its final warning. He hardened further, stiffer than he’d ever been, and he moaned into Lee’s mouth. The first shot of cum left him hard and swift, the pleasure-pain of it almost too much to handle. The second brought a wave of bliss, and he wrenched his mouth away from those tempting lips and threw his head back, his neck cords straining against the skin. Lee nestled his head beneath Ryan’s chin, and his expulsion joined Ryan’s, hot and sticky on their stomachs. Lee’s finger slipped out, and he gripped Ryan’s ass globe, fingers massaging the flesh. A softer jet left Ryan, spreading a rush of tingles over his cock tip and bringing his orgasm to a close, aftershocks all he had left of that sharp and all-consuming ejaculation.

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He let go of Lee’s wrist, allowing him to set the pace as the last of his cum shot out. Cock sensitive, he gritted his teeth with the last few strokes and held his breath. Lee stilled his hand, and Ryan eased his finger out. They lay panting, Lee’s hair tickling Ryan’s chin, his breath hot on the dip below Ryan’s Adam’s apple. We were born for this—the way our bodies fit together and react confirms it. Ryan was where he needed to be, where he’d always wanted to be. **** Sunday dawned bright but cold, the sun once again deceiving Ryan into thinking it would be warm outside. They’d eaten a cooked breakfast, packed up their bags, and now headed down the tree-lined path toward the village. “We’ll stop at Josh and Sue’s to pick up my car,” Lee said, hands in pockets, large backpack bumping his spine. “They let me store it in their garage.”

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They didn’t say much else, Ryan figuring Lee’s mind was full of what was to come and the demons he had to face before he could put them to rest. Would he ever do that fully, or would some remain, taunting him at those times when he couldn’t sleep, or in the idle moments when thoughts tended to run rampant? He didn’t envy him the coming days, weeks, and months, but vowed to be there every step of the way. All it needed was for Lee to ask him to move to Biddingford. Will he? God, I hope so, but if a long-distance relationship is all we can have, I’ll take it. Lee led him up the garden path of the house where Ryan had been given directions. Ryan marvelled at the way things worked out—how people came into your life for fleeting moments only to reappear later as more solid participants. Going by the greeting he received from Josh and Sue, he felt sure they’d become firm friends. He remembered his feelings toward Josh when he’d thought of him as Lee’s lover, and once again shame burned inside him.

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I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge. Lee explained where they were going and why. “You want me to tell the boss you’re taking time off? Doubt he’ll mind. Work’s slow at the moment, isn’t it?” Josh said. “Yeah. I’ll ring him myself tomorrow.” Lee scrubbed his chin. “But I need to get away today, and if he ends up giving me the sack, I’ve got a bit stashed away for emergencies to tide us over. I expect I’ll be bringing Ryan back with me to live, eh Ryan?” He glanced at Ryan and winked. Ryan nodded, his heart full and his mind going over what he needed to do before he could move in with Lee. Shit, it’s really happening! In the car, with the road stretching ahead of them and the sun high in the sky, Ryan sighed with happiness. That road led to the end of some of Lee’s suffering and the beginning of their new life, and he embraced the feeling of finally being where he should be. “You all right?” Ryan asked, glancing at Lee.

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Lee turned to him and smiled. “Yeah. I’m blinding.”

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Dedication

GLIMMER ~ Chapter One Dad fucked off years ago. I can’t say I blame him really. Living with Mum is hard. She’s a nutcase, I swear, ruling my life, telling me how she wants me to live it. But her way isn’t my way. Her way is me finding a girlfriend and getting married, having babies, the whole nine yards. My way is being with Ryan, the guy who’s been my best buddy since…shit, since we were little kids. I reckon Ryan feels the same way, what with him glancing my way when he thinks I’m not looking, the touches to my arm or thigh, designed to be taken either way. You know, man-to-man, matey

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kind of touches or…something more. We’ve never discussed it, so I don’t know for sure, but I’d best my last quid— “Lee? Get down here!” Mum’s voice, it grates on my damn nerves. She’ll want me to clean up for her or go to the shop, be the good son I’m never likely to be. Not the one she wants, anyway. She’d have to gain my respect for me to act the way she’d like, but when you’ve had your arse unfairly tanned more times than you can count, respect kind of goes out the window. I swing my legs off the bed and walk barefoot to my bedroom door, opening it a little to peer through the crack. There she is, standing halfway up the stairs, peering at me through the banister rails. Those curlers she puts in her hair, Jesus, they make her look so old, yet she’s only fortytwo. And the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth—some would say they’re from laughter, but shit, they’re from constant frowning and pursing her lips. At me. At anyone who doesn’t meet with her approval. Oh, she’s good at hiding that side of her personality, I’ll give her that. She

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changes at the click of finger and thumb, depending on the company. “Yeah?” I stare at her, willing the shudder ripping up my spine not to become visible. If she sees it, she’ll start, and no way in hell do I want that. She’ll accuse me of being a disrespectful little bastard, a pain up her arse, and any number of insults she can think of. “I need milk.” She rests a hand on her bony hip, loose bingo wings flapping. The blue flowery dress she favours disguises her thin frame, but underneath she’s slim to the point of being unhealthy. Blue steely eyes bore into me, narrowed as though she’s daring me to say I won’t go to the shop. I want to say that, want to tell her to get her own skinny arse up there, but the reprisals just aren’t worth it. “Okay. Won’t be a minute.” I close my bedroom door before she has time to say anything more. Talking to her isn’t something I enjoy. Being in her company…well, let’s just say I’d rather not. She’s prickly at the best of times. Like a rose stem, she’s got thorns all over her, and you’ve

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just got to get lucky and touch the smooth bits. But, man, if she turns too quickly, you get stabbed, and she hurts. Hurts. I slip on my trainers, grab my jacket, and pick up my phone, texting Ryan to see if he fancies a walk. He might not be back from work yet, but it’s worth a shot. Message sent and jacket on, I swing open my door to find Mum still standing on the stairs, glancing at her watch. She looks up and frowns, shakes her head as if she can’t believe how long it’s taken me to come out of my room. A spike of hate pokes inside me. I wish I didn’t have to live here. Wish I earned enough to rent someplace of my own, but in reality I haven’t got the guts to leave anyway. A lifetime spent in fear does that to you, wondering what she’s going to say, how she’s going to react. Whether the thorns are going to jab, jab, jab, drawing blood. “You won’t be long, will you?” she snaps, waiting until I’m on the step above her before she shifts her arse downstairs. She waits at the bottom, back plastered to the wall, like me touching her as I brush past will taint her in some way.

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Damn, she’s already tainted. Doesn’t need any help from me. “Nope.” I walk out the door and inhale deeply, the fresh air like heaven compared to the cloying atmosphere indoors. She has the heating up so high I can’t breathe sometimes. Maybe she’s trying to kill me off. I laugh, a dry-sounding burst that pains my throat, and walk down the road, my mind on Ryan and whether he’s going to text back. I could do with the company, the laughs he gives me, the way he has the ability to make me light up just by seeing his face. We’re close, always have been, yet I haven’t gone into too much detail about Mum. I’d feel like I’d betrayed her if I did, and it’s strange I should feel like that when she doesn’t give a shit how she makes me feel. Well, she does—she enjoys making me feel bad—but what kind of mother does that? I shove thoughts of her from my mind, walking with my head down and my hands in my jacket pockets. It’s nippy, the autumn air cold on my ears and cheeks, and I wonder what she’ll send me to the shop for when I get back. Oh yeah,

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she’ll think of something while I’m out, and I’ll obey and get what she wants. Again. Easier that way. Anything for a quiet life. My phone beeps, and I take it out of my pocket and look at the screen. Laughter rumbles in my chest. Ryan’s asking if this is my first trip to the shop or the second. I reply, and he comes back with the message that he’ll meet me when I come out again. He’s on the bus on his way home from work. Home to his own place, one that his parents helped him find, and they paid the first month’s rent too. Nice couple, Jan and Derek, and I’ve wished they were my parents on more than one occasion. Smiling, I keep walking and think on times past. Times spent at Ryan’s house when we were kids, rough and tumbling in the back garden or playing computer games in his room. It seems like he’s always been there, but there used to be a time when he wasn’t. He arrived in school the new kid aged seven, the teacher clasping his shoulders and pressing him into the seat beside me. He’d been crying, that much was evident, his eyelashes wet and his red cheeks streaked with

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fresh tears. My stomach had contracted, I remember it as clear as day, and from that moment on I wanted to protect him, be by his side so no one could bully him like I was—at home and at school. Shit, when I think about it, if Ryan hadn’t been in my life I’d have had one sorrier motherfucker of a childhood. A loner before he walked into my class, I’d kept myself on the outskirts of life, there yet not, participating yet having nothing to do with it at all. I reckon the other kids knew I was different even back then, taunting me for my out-of-fashion clothes and embarrassing hairstyle. Kids, they can be so cruel, and some of them remained so even after we left school. Bastards. I look ahead at the sky. A peachy-orange slash of pastel floats on the horizon, the blue of earlier dissipating as darkness makes itself at home. What I wouldn’t give to be up there now, on a plane to anywhere, landing in a place where no one cares who or what I am, free to express myself. I’m stagnating, I know that, and risk going mouldy if I don’t get the hell away. Ryan

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suggested I move in with him, but I declined, thinking it’d add fuel to the fire, the blokes from school getting confirmation that we’re ‘bent’. I am fucking bent! I’m proud of it but can’t admit it out loud. A sigh gusts out of me, one that burns my lungs through lack of air, and I breathe in, wishing for the millionth time that things were different, that I’d grow a set of balls and tell them all, finishing off with “And fuck you if you don’t like it!” But it isn’t that easy. Not when you’ve grown up in the same town your whole life and everyone knows your shit before you even know it yourself. Fuck, I hate it here. The swoosh of tyres brings me out of my thoughts, my attention now on the road. I wait for a space to cross, but the cars are coming thick and fast, bumper to bumper, and I’m mad if I think someone will stop and let me go. Still, hope’s always there, isn’t it, and I wait, knowing no fucker will slow down, knowing she’s at home counting the minutes. It’ll give her something to rant at me for once I get back. Never happier when she’s got a bee in her bonnet, that one.

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The line of cars thin out, and I take a chance, running across the road between two. A horn blares, and I fight the urge to give them the middle finger, instead reaching the other side and walking on, head down again. Ryan pointed out once that I always walk like that. Reckons I should hold my head up more, straighten my shoulders, and be proud of who I am. I don’t want to harp on about the crap I’ve endured, but fuck, it’s damn hard to act confident when whatever confidence I had has been knocked out of me. My thoughts stray to Dad, to how things were so different back then. Always smiling, that man, despite how hard it must have been living with Mum going on at him every five minutes. Mind you, there were times he didn’t smile. I’d catch him, mouth downturned, frowning, the lines on his forehead so sharp they looked like knife slashes in Playdoh. Poor bastard never won an argument, and in later years he didn’t bother to try. I must have been about ten the day he left—a Saturday if I remember right. His bags piled up in the hallway gave me a clue he was going, but the

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eruption of harsh words earlier in the day had been the first inkling it wasn’t one of their usual arguments. Mum’s icy tones accusing him of having an affair, Dad’s weary responses that he wasn’t, never had, but wished he fucking was. I’d widened my eyes at his words, amazed he’d had the bollocks to utter them, and hugged myself while sitting on the sofa, attention focused on those bags. He hunkered down in front of me, hands on my knees, skin warm against my own, what with me having a rip in my jeans from climbing trees with Ryan. I stared at the grass stains on the fabric covering my thighs. The swatch of deep green faded at the edges to yellow. I thought about Mum belting my arse over it later. I remember betting she’d really go to town. Dad wouldn’t be there to protect me, and I didn’t care, just didn’t fucking care. She could hit me all she liked. Nothing would hurt as much as seeing my old man’s eyes staring at me, moist, like he was holding back tears. “I’m gonna have to go, son. I can’t stay here anymore.” He sighed so hard, the breath reaching

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my face, and I wished for his arms about me, my face pressed against his chest, Dad’s hand smoothing my hair and easing my worries. His fingers tightened on my knees, a quick squeeze that wasn’t enough, didn’t do anything much to dispel the fear inside me, the panic that unfurled in my gut and sent me lightheaded. “I’ll work out something with your mum, for when you can come and stay with me, all right?” I nodded, tears burning, and looked away, out the window to where kids played football on the green. Their shouts and hoots proved our lives were so damn different right then. I envied them their parents, ones who stayed together, ones who made home a safe place. Ones who didn’t argue, their screams and jibes searing, hurtful, wounding. Dad stood, leaned over and ruffled my hair, and I hugged myself tighter so I didn’t jump out of my seat and grip him around the waist. I should have done it, I know that now—and damn that saying about hindsight!—but I remained in my seat as he walked into the hallway. He hefted a couple of bags over his shoulder and stepped

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over the others, the sound of the front door squeaking open so fucking loud it seemed to fill the house. Mum, she was upstairs, probably cursing the day she’d married Dad, telling herself she was better off without him. That he didn’t deserve her, and why hadn’t she listened to her parents all those years ago? Hadn’t they predicted this outcome? Hadn’t they told her Dad wasn’t the right one for her? I frowned, knowing even at my young age that it was the other way around. Dad was better than she’d ever be, and there he was, back in the hallway, picking up a bag in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He glanced through the doorway at me, his expression one of utter sadness. My bottom lip wobbled. I ground my teeth together, silently cursing and relishing doing so, something Mum wouldn’t have abided had I screamed those words aloud. Why are you fucking leaving me here with her, Dad? Why can’t I bloody well go with you? Take me with you. Please? I can’t stay here. Not with her the way she is. Fucking mad woman. Shitting, fucking, bastard mad woman.

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But he’d gone, a wink and a watery smile the last I saw of him that year, and God, did I cry. Silent tears, though, me unwilling to let Mum know how much I hurt inside. If she knew she’d use it against me—gladly. I sigh now, a hard lump in my throat, and stare into the distance at the winding path that leads to the shop. I should just keep walking, plodding on until I can’t go any further, tiredness making me slump down on the ground, hunched in a ball, my eyes closing, brain shutting off the past. The pain. But I don’t. I keep going until the row of local shops comes into view, the inevitable bunch of blokes outside, ones I went to school with if previous nights are anything to go by. As I near, they look up and nudge one another. I ready myself for their usual onslaught, one I’m getting tired of but don’t have the bottle to try and stop. And they wouldn’t stop anyway, even if I said something. Wankers. “Whey hey! It’s the bent bastard!” one shouts, the others bursting into laughter. I keep my head down and draw closer, my guts going over, fear of what they’ll say or do

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seeping into my bones. I should stand up for myself, give them what for, but there’s five of them and one of me, and I don’t fancy being beaten up tonight. Their laughter gets louder the closer I get, and it’s like I’m outside myself looking in, seeing me walking past them, seeing a leg jerking out from the pack ready to trip me over. I scoot around it, heart hammering, fists clenched in my pockets, and walk inside the shop. All this for a fucking pint of milk, and I’ve got the return visit to look forward to in a bit. Just got to hope they’ve buggered off by then. I pay for the milk and leave the shop, stomach clenching in anticipation of a fresh attack. It comes loud and clear, hoots of derision and gross words about sex that bring a blush to my cheeks. I wouldn’t know if what they’d said was true— never been fucked, never been kissed—but they make it sound dirty, wrong, when it isn’t. Not to me. To me it’s right, beautiful, who I am. I walk on, lifting my eyes to see where I’m going, tuning out their crass jibes. Around the corner, I release a breath I didn’t know I’d held and clamp my lips together, tears too close for comfort. I hate it that

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they can reduce me to feeling like a little kid again. Hate it that they’ve dogged me all my damn life and always will if I let them. How am I supposed to come out, be myself, when I live in such a small-minded, nasty little town? How the fuck am I meant to be me? Jesus Christ, I’m not going to cry. Not going to let those bastards win. Ryan’ll be with me soon. I’ll be all right then. Yeah, we’ll go up the pub or something. Just…forget this crap and have a laugh. I stare ahead, shoulders not so stooped, and it’s like just the thought of Ryan makes me feel better. Gives me courage. A small smile plays about my lips as images of him messing about go through my mind. He’s so free and easy with himself, and he would be, because that’s who he is, who he’s been allowed to be. And I’m back to square one. Back to thinking about Mum and my shitty life. I need to stop going over it, letting it fester inside me. I should be like Dad and smile despite the pain. That’d piss her right off. A figure strolls toward me in the distance, and right away I know it’s Ryan. I can tell by his gait,

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the way he walks so fluidly, arms swinging by his sides, probably whistling if I know him. He must have got off the bus a few stops early. Yep, it’s him all right. He raises his arm and waves, picking up the pace, jogging toward me until we’re a few feet apart. I stop, he stops, and we stare at one another, his breaths short, cheeks flushed. “All right?” he asks, smile wide. Shit, I love him. Always have and always will. “Yeah. You?” “Not too bad, mate. She wanted milk, then?” I nod, and we walk side by side. My whole day has changed from dreary to exciting, the future— at least for the next few hours—bright and happy.

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GLIMMER ~ Chapter Two She wanted sugar. Fucking sugar to sweeten her tea. Shame it didn’t sweeten her attitude. Ryan walked back to the shop with me, and funnily enough, the blokes outside didn’t utter a damn word. They never do if he’s with me. He’d given them as good as they gave him a while ago, striking back after one of them punched him in the stomach. I’d stood rooted to the spot, unable to help even though the desire to do so raged through me. I wished then, and still do now, that I was tougher, that what they say and do wouldn’t affect me the way it does. You’d think, seeing as I

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was belted and thumped by Mum up until about a year ago, I’d be fearless, but confrontation always bothers me, renders me pliant and obedient to whoever calls the shots. Maybe one day something or someone will push me too far and I’ll stand up for my damn self. Back from the shop now, Ryan waits outside while I go in and give the old dragon her sugar. She snatches it from my outstretched hand without thanks and stomps into the kitchen, body as rigid as a taut elastic band, ready to snap at any moment. Though I’m used to it, I still cringe, wincing as I follow her and wait for the rebuke that always comes. “Took your time, didn’t you?” she says, ripping open the sugar bag and pouring some into the canister. “And that Ryan’s outside, so I take it you’re going out tonight?” She slaps the canister lid down and opens the cupboard, reaching up to slide the remaining sugar onto the top shelf. “Glad to see he knows his place. People like him aren’t welcome here.” I stare at her as she swings around to face me, two bright red spots on her cheeks

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indicating she’s revving herself up for an almighty blast of vitriol. I want to shout at her for insulting Ryan, and by doing so she’s insulted me with her ‘people like him’ comment, but I’m used to it, can take it. Ryan, though, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s never been anything but polite to her, and he’s out there now, banished to the doorstep as always, unable to defend himself. “He isn’t normal,” she says, arms folded over her concave belly. “Always knew he was queer, right from a little kid. And you hang around with him, acting like you don’t see it, when any minute he could touch you up, changing you to his way of thinking.” What the fuck? “And then where will that leave me? Without grandchildren, that’s where. The laughing stock of the community, and my God, boy, if you ever do that to me I’ll…” She whips her hands down by her sides and stalks to the sink, plunging her hands into the soapy water and scrubbing a plate that doesn’t need scrubbing at all. “Well, now you know how I feel, so if you

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ever let him inside this house, I’ll whip your arse, do you understand? You’re never too old for a clout.” I study her back, the rigidity of it, and a wave of hate sweeps through me. I could step forward now and grip her hair, shoving her face into that water, holding her there until she can’t breathe, until she’s— Fuck it. I won’t go down that road. Won’t let her bait me. She wants an argument, that much is obvious, but I’m not giving her the satisfaction. No, she can stew in her anger, thinking disgusting things and justifying her reasons for doing so. I’ll never understand her and don’t want to try. She’s polluted, just like those blokes at the shop, unable to see past the idea of someone being queer to what lies beneath—a human being who needs love just like anyone else. Her curlers bob with her jerky movements, and she places a plate in the drying rack, hands back in the water, feeling around for something to wash. Finding nothing, she turns and looks around the kitchen, seizing on an already clean

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chopping board. Scourer in hand, she rasps it against the wood, the sound bringing to mind the time Dad built the garden shed. Resentment sails through me that he’s gone, and I glare at the woman who gave birth to me, wondering what quirk of fate made her my mother and who ‘up there’ found it funny to put the two of us together. Well, I’m not bloody laughing. My emotions harden further, and I mentally add another row of bricks onto the existing wall between us. One day soon that wall will be impossible to look over, impossible to walk around, and I’ll be done here. Done with her. “I’m going to bingo presently,” she says. “Oh, right.” “But I’ve just remembered something else I need from the shop.” My jaw muscles flex, and I inhale quietly. “What’s that then?” She picks up the washing-up liquid, the clear bottle showing nearly full contents, then slams it back onto the worktop. “You can never have enough washing-up liquid.”

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I turn from her and leave the kitchen, refusing to ponder on the way her mind works and why she acts as she does. Resigned to yet another walk, I pull open the front door and step outside. Ryan’s sitting on the kerb with his back to me, smoking. The light breeze tousles my hair, and he blows a stream of smoke upward. For a moment the cloud is stark against the darkness then disappears, another joining it after he inhales and exhales again. “She wants washing-up liquid,” I say and shove my hands in my jacket pockets. Ryan turns his head and looks at me over his shoulder. “You’re fucking joking!” “Nope.” I’m embarrassed. Eighteen years old and embarrassed that I can’t stand up to my tyrant mother. Ryan rises and flicks his lit cigarette to the ground. It bounces, brief sparks flying, and comes to rest on the other side of the road. The end still glows, a bright orange nugget in the gloom, another puff of breeze making it flare brighter before it douses completely.

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“Come on,” he says, cocking his head. “Best be getting a move on.” He knows a little of what she’s like, but if he knew the truth—the real truth… “Yeah. Hopefully she’ll be at bingo when we get back. If she is, d’you wanna come in?” He gives me a sidelong glance. “You reckon that’s wise?” “No, but fuck it, we’ve got away with it before.” “Yeah, but I don’t fancy climbing out of your window and jumping onto the back porch roof any time soon.” We laugh, the tension easing, and walk the rest of the way in silence, me wondering what he’s thinking. My situation must be alien to him. He probably can’t understand why I stay, but I’m not like him, filled with courage. Could I tell her what I really thought of her? If pushed, I reckon I could, but as it stands…well, I’ll just have to carry on as I am, won’t I? The house stands as though abandoned when we get back, the lights out, the curtains shut tight. I slide my key into the lock and

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motion for Ryan to stay outside for a minute. It wouldn’t surprise me if she sat inside in the dark, waiting to see if I brought Ryan indoors. She’s done it before, but luckily Ryan heard her voice and retreated out the door, closing it quietly so she wouldn’t realise we’d been about to sneak up to my room. Only to shoot the shit, play on my Play Station, nothing untoward, but still, Mum would have suspected otherwise. Seeing the house is clear, I call Ryan inside and, as he closes the front door, I go into the kitchen and put the washing-up liquid in the cupboard beneath the sink. I take a bottle of Coke out of the fridge—bought it earlier this morning when I got Mum’s paper from the shop—and collect two glasses from the cupboard over the cooker. Back in the hallway, I smile at Ryan, even though he can’t see it in the dark, and walk upstairs, pleased to hear his footsteps as he follows. Wary, I push the door to my room open, expecting to find Mum sitting on my bed. I flick the light switch and blush at the state of my

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room, shown in all its cluttered, untidy glory under the harsh illumination of the bare ceiling bulb. “Uh, excuse the mess,” I mutter, stepping forward to scoop up a pile of dirty clothes and shoving them into the laundry bin. I hadn’t anticipated Ryan coming in tonight; otherwise I’d have cleaned up a bit. He’s only ever seen it presentable. “No probs,” he says, flinging himself on the bed, unfazed. He grabs the Play Station control and nods at the TV. “Boot it up, then.” I do then take off my jacket and flop on the bed beside him, reaching to my bookshelf to get the other control. The game starts, and we spend the next hour or so battling it out, Ryan winning every time, as usual. After the best out of five, I drop the control down the side of the bed, and it clonks as it hits the floor. I lie on my back, head against the pillow, and stare at the ceiling. Ryan is close, too close, yet not close enough. His body heat warms my bare arm, and I wonder what it would be like to press my skin to his, feeling it fully, properly.

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“You ever thought about leaving here?” he asks, leaning over me to put the controller on the bookshelf. His belly touches my side, and my stomach flips over. My cock twitches, and I will it not to harden, exposing how I feel for him when he might not appreciate my erection. If he isn’t gay, if I’ve misinterpreted…shit, I’d hate to lose our friendship. “Um, many times.” I casually lay my hands over my crotch and hope he hasn’t spotted my burgeoning cock. Shit! “So what’s stopping you?” He moves away, settling next to me, resting on his side, face propped in his hand, elbow digging into the mattress. “Money. Guts.” I swallow, pushing away images of what could have happened just then if I’d lifted my hand and twined my fingers in his hair. If I’d trailed my hand down his cheek, his chest, and to his groin… “You could get a bedsit and afford it on your wages. If you did extra shifts at the pizza place you’d manage. As for having guts…one day

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she’ll piss you right off, and you’ll walk, no problem.” “I s’pose. I want to get out. Get out of this town, too, if I’m honest.” Ryan sits up, his fingers curling around my wrist. “Really?” I stare at his hand, the contact searing, fucking great, and he releases his grip, retaking his former position. I will him to put his hand back so I can feel that rush again, but he doesn’t. “Yeah, really. I hate this place. Bunch of bastards.” I turn my head to look at him. “Don’t you feel like running away? Do you see yourself living here for the rest of your life, stuck in a damn rut, seeing the same faces day in, day out? Hearing the same old shit regurgitated again and again?” He makes eye contact, staring at me for long moments before hiking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, I’m only eighteen. Haven’t looked that far ahead.” He pauses, gaze searching my hot face, then, “Besides,

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there’s my mum and dad. I’d miss them. Miss you.” His gaze intensifies, like he’s challenging me, daring me to open my mouth and tell him how I really feel. I could, couldn’t I? I could spill it all, lightening my weary bloody soul, relieving myself of the burdens that sit on my shoulders twentyfour-seven. “Yeah, there is that,” I say, mentally berating myself for letting the opportunity to come clean slip me by. “Where would you go?” He looks down at his hand lying between us then back to my face. My cheeks heat further, and goddamn my cock, growing with each passing second. “Dunno. Pointless even talking about it, ‘cos I won’t go. Not yet, anyway.” “Reckon she’s sailing close to the wind. She’ll say the wrong thing soon enough.” “You might be right, but she’s clever. Knows just when to back off. And you don’t know her like I do. She’s—” “A bully?” I remain silent for a minute. “Yeah, and she—” “Treats you like shit?”

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“Yeah. And…” I shake my head, unable to tell him. “I’ve seen the bruises over the years, buddy. I know there’s more to it than her just being strict. She know you’re gay?” His question startles the shit out of me. Never before have we talked about this. Never. And I always thought we never would. “Um…” “She suspects I am,” he says. “Got this look about her when she sees me.” I open my mouth to say “You are?” but close it again. It’d be stupid of me to say it, because I know damn well he is, and he knows I know, just like he knows I am. Shit, we’ve tiptoed around one another for such a long time, denying who we are, probably through fear of the other brushing the truth off and risking causing offence, when all along we shouldn’t have. “I’ve always loved you, Lee.” Jesus Christ… His gaze remains steady, fixed on my eyes, the sincerity in his almost bringing me to tears. This admission, this confirmation of what I’ve

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always known and felt, seems surreal, like I imagined it. “You okay with that?” he asks. “Fuck, yeah. I mean, I… Fuck, yeah.” Ryan reaches out and strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers, the touch sending shivers up and down my spine, springing goose bumps on my arms. I’ve dreamed of this, wanted it for so long, yet now it’s happening I can’t quite believe it. I’ll wake up in a minute, alone in bed, the morning light seeping around the curtains, the alarm blaring. He scoots closer, his belly moulded to my side, and fuck, my cock hurts it’s so hard. Tentative, I slip my hand between his inner arm and side, curving it around his back. His heat bleeds into my skin, and my stomach bunches with the hope of what’s to come. Ryan leans forward and down, his lips brushing across mine like a whisper of breath. I tilt my head, offering my mouth, wanting him to kiss me so damn hard I lose the will to think clearly. As though reading my mind, he does so, and I raise my other hand, grasping his shoulder and

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bringing him on top of me, the weight of him fucking fantastic. His hard cock presses against mine, and I have to fight hard to hold off coming. This is all too much, too many sensations going on all at once. My bollocks, Christ, they ache, and I curl my toes, hands roving up and down his back. His fingers slip into my hair, the tips massaging my scalp as the kiss intensifies. He gyrates, almost bringing me off. I groan into his mouth, a painfilled sound that has Ryan backing away and looking down at me as though he’d hurt me. “You okay?” he asks, out of breath. I nod, my heart beating hard and fast, my pulse echoing in my ears. “Yeah, just…just give me a minute. I’ve never—” “Me neither.” Ryan pecks my lips again then rears up, staring down at me, his expression one of tenderness. Of love? I’m exposed in this light, blush in full view, but I don’t care. Not really. What does it matter what I look like? Ryan’s seen me at my worst. That time I had flu, and many instances

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throughout childhood when I slept over at his house, my hair sticking up in all directions come morning, my pyjamas rumpled, sleepy dust in the corners of my eyes. “I fucking love you,” he says again, and I’m bowled over by the passion, the complete and utter devotion in his voice. “Knew it for sure when I hit sixteen, and it’s grown ever since.” How have we held it back for so long? Did I wait until I came of age to finally admit I’m gay? Like it’s acceptable now? I don’t know, don’t want to analyse it right now, only revel in the feelings his words have produced. I love him too, and I want to tell him, shout it out to the world, yet I remain silent, hating myself for it but unable to give him the same feelings he just gave me. I’m selfish. Selfish to the core. “I feel the same,” I manage and cup my hand around his nape, bringing his head down for another kiss that has my cock throbbing and my heart rate soaring. God, I’m going to come. Ryan circles his hips, his hardness so fucking right as it grinds over my cock. His tongue swirls

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inside my mouth, gliding over and around mine, the wet heat of it too arousing, too much for me to bear. My arsehole spasms, and a grunt cuts short in my throat. I lift my arse and lower my hands, pushing him closer so his erection pulls back my foreskin. I ease my mouth from his. “Jesus, I’m coming. I’m fucking coming!” Cum erupts, hot and sticky inside my boxers, and I close my eyes, mind clearing of everything but the feelings coursing through me. Shit, this is intense. Another spurt bursts from me as Ryan circles his hips faster, and he lowers his head, face buried in the crook of my neck, breaths hot on my skin. His stuttered moan heightens my orgasm, and a third shot comes out so fast it hurts. I grip his arse, fingertips biting into his jeans, and my breath leaves me in jerky exhalations. Heat pours into my face, and sweat trickles down my temples. Ryan jolts, one-two-three, and whispers, “I’m coming.” I move him faster, wanting him to experience what I’m going through, the euphoria unlike

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anything I’ve ever known. He groans and bucks, tongue licking my neck. I’m where I’ve always wanted to be, where I’m meant to be, and shit, the future I’d thought about earlier burns brighter than I could ever have imagined.

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GLIMMER ~ Chapter Three Together, we stumble to the bathroom. A tinge of unease settles over me, embarrassment that I came too soon and in my pants, but Ryan appears fine. He strips, switching the shower on and stepping beneath the spray as though we’ve done this a hundred times before. I sit on the closed toilet seat and watch him, taking in the planes of his body, the way the soap lather glides down his belly. My cum cools, leaving me uncomfortable, so I hike in a deep breath and take the plunge. Undressing quickly before bravery deserts me, I join him in the tub, his lazy

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smile spurring me to reach out and wash him, smoothing the bubbles over his chest. Thoughts of moving in with him enter my mind, and I grow angry that I’m fooling myself with the notion that if I did everything would be fine. It wouldn’t. I’d still have to deal with those blokes, with Mum, and every other fucker who has an opinion on being gay. Not wanting to sour this precious moment, I clear my mind and concentrate on the now. Ryan rolls the soap between his hands then places it in the small dish shaped like a dolphin on its side. He washes my chest, hands lowering to my cock, and a familiar tingle starts at the base. Before long I’m hard again, heat burning my cheeks. God, this is so unreal, so hot, that I can’t get my head around it. I look up, meeting Ryan’s gaze, and he smiles again, no hint of reproach in his features. Relief surges through me, and I lift my arms, cupping his shoulders as he soaps my balls. His kiss sends spikes of pleasure through my cock, and I step away, aware that if we get caught in here…shit, my old dear would have a fit.

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“We’d better get out,” I say, reluctantly getting out of the tub and drying myself with brisk strokes. The water stops its incessant beat on the enamel, and Ryan stands beside me, his skin peppered with goose bumps. I hand him my towel, cock softening. “Sorry, but if she sees two wet towels…” “It’s okay.” He dries himself, hangs the towel on the rail, and scoops up his clothes. “Come on. Gotta check the time.” He leaves the room, and I turn to follow, picking up my clothes then padding across the landing and into my room. The bed covers bear the imprints of our bodies, the quilt cover mussed, a round dent in my pillow. Sex scents the air, the tang of it sharper than when I come alone. I drop my clothes beside Ryan’s at the foot of my bed and move to the window, opening it a crack. Fresh air soughs in, chilling my body. Ryan steps up behind me, snakes his hands around my waist, his fingers reaching for my cock. I harden again, the throb in my balls insistent, and he clasps my shaft, pressing his

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erection between my arse cheeks. Jesus, who knew it would feel like this? An all-consuming burn rages through me at speed and takes away all the bad things, replacing them with a serenity that surpasses any of my imaginings. “What time will she be back?” Ryan kisses the top of my spine, the touch light, soft. I glance at the clock on my bookshelf. “About another two hours.” “Good.” He twists me around so we’re facing one another, our cocks and bellies meeting. I slip my hands about his waist, interlacing my fingers at his lower back, and he lays his palms over my chest. The hot contact sends a jolt of pleasure up my cock, and the vein pulsates, a quick, almost painful beat. Unlocking my hands, I cup his arse cheeks and begin circular movements over the globes, taking in how it feels, skin on skin and emotionally. This exploration, this experience, makes me whole somehow, and I have the absurd urge to cry. Stupid bastard. Ryan steps backward, leading me to the bed, and we flop down, a lattice of arms and legs. I

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shift onto my side, Ryan doing the same, and our new discovery begins. Hands roam, fingertips featherlight, palms skating across dips and swells, breaths heavy and ragged. I squirm, wanting to capture every emotion, every movement at once, but there’s too much going on. Lips brush, tongues lick, and sweat drips. I imagine later times, when we’re experienced enough to ease our cocks into hot, tight sheaths, and a groan-laden gasp leaves me panting, unable to imagine the intensity our future fucks will hold. His tongue laves a path along my collarbone and up my neck. Warm breath tickles my ear, the sound of it so loud it drowns out my thudding pulse and the rasping of hands over skin. I close my eyes and curve my groin up, pushing my cock into his, loving the hardness. A shift of air whispers over me, and a gasp fills the room followed by a high-pitched scream. I jerk away from Ryan, almost falling off the bed, my eyes snapping open to see his face in profile, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, gaze fixed on the door.

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Oh, fuck. Fuck! I see her in my peripheral vision, hands cupped over her mouth, the darkness of the landing behind her. I jump off the bed at the same time as Ryan, scrambling for our clothes, anything to cover ourselves. As he slides his legs into his jeans, she starts railing. “You filthy little bastard!” She’s lit as though under a spotlight, staring at Ryan, hands fisted by her sides. Angry red splotches spread over her cheeks, joining to form one raging mask, and spittle sits at the corners of her mouth. “I knew it!” She’s fit to burst, and I’m scrabbling into my jeans, zipping up, reaching for a T-shirt from an open drawer. Christ, my heart’s beating so fast it hurts, and I want to throw up. I glance from her to Ryan, who’s dressed and shoving his feet into his Nikes, face flushed, his shaved head making him look like a ruffian. Someone to avoid. My attention returns to Mum, hands on her hips now, mouth gaping open as though she’s lost for words. Her speech isn’t halted for long, and she raises one hand, finger pointing at Ryan.

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“You’d better get the hell out of my house! How dare you come in here and turn my boy, leading him into your disgusting ways. Go on, get out!” She jabs the air with her finger, the tip meeting Ryan’s chest as he steps forward, stuffing his soiled boxers into his pocket. Springing back, she melts into the darkness of the landing, and for a moment it’s like she was never there and Ryan’s just leaving to go home. He glances back, and his face, my God, I don’t ever want to see that stricken look again. Like he’s saying sorry, that he’s the cause of all this, that it’s his fault. It isn’t. It fucking isn’t! His footsteps recede as he goes down the stairs, and the front door closes quietly, my loud breaths superseding every other sound that remains. She fills the doorway again, eyes narrowed, and I stand beside my bed, the fear of childhood filling me. “You!” She stalks into the room, standing inches from me. “You need to get in the bath. Wash his filth from you. Didn’t I tell you? Wasn’t it only earlier I told you what he was up to?

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What he was like? And you didn’t believe it. Now look what’s happened. You’ve allowed him to touch you, to… God, you disgust me. The pair of you! What will the neighbours say if this gets out? You can bet that pervert won’t keep this quiet. Oh, I know what those types are like. He’ll brag about his conquest, how he made you just like him, when you’re not. No, this is just a blip. A bit of confusion, that’s all.” She whittles her fingers then grips the hem of her fitted blue jacket. A blip? A bit of confusion? “No,” I say, turning from her to kneel beside the bed and pull my large holdall from beneath it. A brief memory of me and Ryan packing our clothes into it for a camping trip comes to mind, and although this situation is dire, I smile. “What’s so funny? What the bloody hell is so funny?” Mum bunches her hands, arms rigid, and stares down at me. I rise and dump the holdall on the bed, moving to the drawer to remove a stack of tops. “And what do you think you’re doing?” Her strident tones rasp on my nerves.

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She’s gearing herself up for the big one, but I’m not going to let her reach the pinnacle. No, I’ll get out of here before she goes too far. Wouldn’t put it past her to find one of my belts and whip my arse like she used to. Would I let her? I shake my head. No, I don’t reckon I would. She stopped hitting me a while ago now, probably realising that one day, despite her being my mother, I might hit her back. I ignore her and pack my bag with more clothes, mentally going through how much I can fit into it. “Oh, so you’re giving me the silent treatment now, hmm? That’s all the thanks I get, is it? I catch you up to no good with that dirty little bastard—and to think I let him in this house to play up here as a child!—and you’re ignoring me as though I’m in the wrong?” She closes my open drawers and tidies things on top, busying herself like she does when she’s thinking on her next move, what to say, do, to make me bend to her will. I clench my jaw, then say, “But you are.” “What?” One hand stills above my aftershave bottles; the other grips a can of deodorant. “I sincerely hope you’re joking. Speaking in the heat

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of the moment.” She reorganises my things, not a dust-surrounded circle to be seen as she slides bottles into the position she prefers. Finished packing, I zip up my bag and slip a sweatshirt over my head. Trainers on, I shove my arms into my jacket and pick up my dirty boxers, stuffing them into a side pocket of my bag. Can’t be doing with the embarrassment of her knowing I’d already come before she arrived. I lift the bag, its weight heavy and a strain on my shoulder. “No, I’m leaving.” “Leaving?” She laughs, an irritating titter, and spreads her hands into stars, arms lifted as if she can stop me walking past. “Yeah, leaving.” I brush past her and, in the doorway, glance back at my room, taking it all in. The layout, the memories, the things I’m leaving behind. None of them matter now. “Should have done this long ago.” She spins to face me, her face redder, eyes wide. “So, after all I’ve done for you, after bringing you up alone for the past eight years, that’s it? You’re just going to go? Up and leave because I caught you?”

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“There’s more to it than that. Don’t pretend any different.” I walk across the landing and pause at the top of the stairs. She scuttles to my bedroom doorway, peering into the gloom. “Oh, well, that’s just marvellous. I’ve raised an ungrateful boy. One who walks out when he can’t get his own way. Like your father, you are. A little heat and you’re off, burying your head in the sand, unable to stay and face up to what you’ve done. Fabulous!” “Don’t bring Dad into this. Not when he’s not here to put his side forward.” “And why isn’t he here, Lee? You tell me why he isn’t here. Why he hasn’t been here since you were ten years old!” “Because you’re such a bitch to live with.” Shit! Did I really say that? “Oh, so that’s what you think, is it? Wonderful! He does the damage, and I get the blame. Typical!” “You just don’t get it, do you?” I stare at her—hard. “He left because of you. He wasn’t having an affair; he just didn’t want to come home after work because he couldn’t face the shit

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you put him through. He sat in his car, night after night, wishing he didn’t have to come back here. And the only reason he did come back was because of me.” She laughs again. “And you know this how?” “Because he told me before—” “Oh, he did, did he? And when was that?” “Doesn’t matter.” “Doesn’t it? He taints your view of me, and you think it doesn’t matter?” “You tainted my view of you. You.” She slaps her palms against her thighs. “How am I going to explain this to people? How could you do this to me?” I sigh, look down, and think on the fact that my courage has finally arrived. And there was me thinking it wouldn’t. That I’d be stuck here till fuck knows when, rotting in the house with her. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to tell them.” Without looking at her, I walk down the stairs, toward the door that represents freedom, the future uncertain. Frightening. My hand on the door knob, I stand on the mat and lower my head, steeling myself for what’s to

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come. There it is, a shriek of anger, ripping through the air and bringing memories from the past, of times when she’d got herself into a stew and went for me with the belt. Or her fists. Her feet. No more. I step outside, closing the door on that terrible sound, muted now, though still piercing somehow. Looking down the road, I spot Ryan standing beneath a lamppost, the orange glow giving him an aura. I walk toward him and drop my bag beside me. “I’ve left,” I say, hands in pockets, head down. “Gonna go and live in the middle of nowhere so no one can bother me. I can’t stay here. Not with her telling everyone what a disappointment I am. And she will, despite being appalled. She’ll do anything for a bit of attention. Always has.” Where had that come from? The knowledge that I’ll find somewhere remote to live? Ryan grasps my arm. “Come and stay at my place. I don’t give a fuck what people say. We can, you know, be together…if you want.” And I do want. Fuck, yeah, I want it so bad I can taste it, but I need to get to grips with this

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shit. Get my head sorted. I can’t do that living here, everyone pointing their fingers, the risk of bumping into Mum in town, and Ryan, my fucking gorgeous Ryan, a brilliant distraction. I lift my head, tears brimming, and sigh. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?” Ryan nods, face serious. “Yup. Tell me whatever you like.” “I feel like…uh, like I’ve got to find myself, know what I mean?” He nods again. “I know what you mean. You go. Do it, but you’ll stay in contact, yeah? Let me know where you wind up?” I stoop and pick up my bag. “I will. And hey, maybe you’ll come and see me one day.” A lump grows in my throat, and shit, it hurts. I hate myself for acting like Ryan means nothing. That I’m prepared to leave him behind. He’s my best damn friend—a part of me, always will be—but man, I’ve got so much shit in my head that I need to get away. A clean break. Sort myself out. “I will. When you’re ready.” Ryan’s eyes fill. It’s like he knows. Knows we’ll meet again and that I just want a bit of time and space. Maybe

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we’re so close he can feel it, senses what I need and that nothing has changed between us. If anything it’s got stronger, this love, this thing we have, but if it’s meant to be, fuck, we’ll pick it up again later. Too much has gone on in my life for me to stick around now. The urge to get the hell away is so strong it’s like I’m suffocating, and despite leaving Ryan behind, it’s something I’ve got to do. Otherwise I’ll be fit for nothing later on, if a memory triggers the crap from the past and I break down, everything tumbling out, possibly causing a rift between us. And I wouldn’t want that. This is for the best. Really, it is. I stare at him, and Jesus, what happened back there seems as though it never did. Another dream. Another wish that never came true. “Well, um, I’d best be off, then.” My eyes burn. “Yeah. Yeah, you take care, all right? And I’m here whenever you want me. Fuck knows I don’t want you to go, and I’ll miss you, but I get where you’re coming from. You need time, that’s all.” I nod, grateful he understands, yet I’m torn apart inside. I should just go, walk away, and not look back.

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I want to kiss him. Hold him. Smell him. I stare at the ground and force one foot in front of the other, my insides hollowing the further away from him I get. This path I’m walking, it’s a tough one, but I’ll get through this somehow. “Fucking love you, Lee!” he shouts. I raise my hand, tears blurring my vision, and swallow, fighting the desire to shout the same back.

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GLIMMER ~ Chapter Four To get to town I have to pass that bloody row of shops. Surprise, surprise, the gang of blokes loiter outside, hoods up, hands either in pockets or loose by their sides. Their hollers begin as soon as they spot me, jeers of ‘bent bastard’ and ‘queer fuck’ flowing over me, through me, burrowing inside. Those words spoil the memory of what me and Ryan shared, like mould on bread crust, but, like that crust, when you’re starving you can cut it off and eat the rest. I tune them out, walking past with my head down. Uncaring if they think me weak, I keep going,

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more important things on my mind than their opinions. “Fucking retard!” one shouts. “Fucking arsepoking shit stabber!” That stings, but I don’t have the energy to retaliate. Oh, the idea of it is there, all right, but I’m emotionally spent, too weary to get into it with them. Yeah, it’d cleanse me, make me feel a whole lot better, but like before, there are five of them and one of me. The odds don’t look good. “You ignoring me, wanker?” I keep walking. “You ought to really scare him, Trev, know what I mean?” The second voice belongs to Michael Warner, a sheep who’s followed Trevor around for years. I shrug off his words, knowing damn well what they mean, knowing what Trevor is capable of. What he’s done before and how he got away with it because the kid he scared was too frightened to grass on who’d pulled a gun on him. Trevor wouldn’t risk doing that again, would he? I don’t want to hang around to find out so up my pace, my breaths coming out in

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quick bursts, adrenaline spiking, lending me extra speed. The housing estate tapers. Fields either side of the main road spread far and wide, and I look ahead. Though streetlights illuminate the path, the bordering hedges and trees give me an ominous feeling, like something’s afoot. Something bad. No, those thugs back there, they’re all mouth these days. Jobless, with nothing to do but rile people. Halfway along the road, I put my head down and press on, anxious to get into town to the cashpoint and the bus station. I have no bloody idea where I’m going, but it doesn’t matter so long as it’s away from here. The road stretches on, a lonely strip of asphalt, no cars speeding by, and town seems so far away. Stars litter the sky, and I stare at them, thinking that not so long ago my head was in the clouds and my body lay in Ryan’s arms. How quickly things change. The rumble of an engine sounds, and another noise, loud, as if the car’s exhaust is blowing. I turn, and the blinding light of

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headlamps greets me. Squinting, I turn away and blink, circles of illumination reappearing each time my lids close. The bag handles cut into my palm, and I switch hands, cursing myself for packing so many clothes. The car zooms past, and I stare at the taillights, eerie red eyes in the darkness. In the far distance, the shapes of town buildings come into view, indistinct, their rooftops bleeding into the night sky. I walk faster, glancing at my wrist to find my watch missing, the timepiece at home— back there—on the bookshelf. Shit. The last bus out of town leaves at eleven, and it must be nearing that now. The shop closes then, and the lights still blazed inside when I’d walked past, so maybe I’ll make it. If I don’t, God knows if I’ll find a bed and breakfast open this time of night. I’ve never had to use one before so have no clue how they operate. Two headlight circles appear, growing bigger as the vehicle approaches. I avert my gaze, staring toward town, and walk faster, though the appearance of the car makes me feel less

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alone. It speeds, the harsh, blowing exhaust telling me it’s the same car that just passed going the other way, and I guess they drove around the roundabout down there. Kids out for a joyride. The car skids, back fishtailing to my left, and comes to stop. My heart pounds, and I hurry, not wanting anything to do with whoever sits inside. A car door opens then slams, and I risk a glance back to see what’s going on. A guy storms toward me, a weird mask on his face, one with goggles attached. My stomach flips, and I turn my head to face the front, legs like jelly. “Oi! Where d’you think you’re fucking going?” Oh, shit. I spin around, walking backward, once again taking in that damn fucked-up mask, designed to scare the shit out of people, I’ll bet. I open my mouth to answer, my words snuffed out by the guy’s arm rising, a gun held in a gloved hand. Jesus fucking Christ. “I said, where d’you think you’re fucking going?”

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The voice is distorted, kind of muffled, but I swear it belongs to Trevor. What the hell is he playing at? Should I answer him? If I don’t, will he use the gun? “I…” “You ought to fuck right off, I reckon,” he says, his stride assured, gun hand steady. He jabs the gun at me, and I eye the hole where a bullet could come speeding out at any second, the streetlight we’ve just passed showing it in all its terrifying glory. I glance around for somewhere to run, the only option through the hedges and trees—the only place with cover—but before I get a chance to run, Trevor lunges forward and smacks the gun handle down on my temple. Pain rips through my head, and I drop the bag before sinking to my knees. Trevor grips my hair, holding it tight in his fist, and points the gun to my throbbing temple. “We don’t want faggots round here, you got that?” Powerless, I nod, piss seeping into my jeans.

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“Your sort…well, we just don’t want it, right?” I nod again, willing the tears away. Even if my courage from earlier returned, it wouldn’t do me any good now. The gun sees to it that I’ll keep my mouth shut and do as he says. “So, I don’t expect we’ll be seeing you around here again, will we?” I shake my head, stare at his trainers— pristine white Reeboks—and imagine my blood spattered all over them if he pulls the trigger. He yanks me upright, gun still pressed to my head. A click echoes—shit, he’s taken the safety off, shit, shit, shit—and my bladder releases more liquid. He looks down at the path. “You fucking pissed yourself?” I jerk my head up and down. Time slows. Laughter floats out of him, his teeth bared, crowded tombstones in his mouth. The car engine hums a few feet away, and faint shouts issue from inside the car along with the thump of jungle music. My legs grow chilled from the cooling piss, my feet and trainers sodden.

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Trevor looks so damn hellish in that mask, his eyes partially obscured by the tinted lenses, his nose covered, mouth a thin line in the centre of a circle cut out of the rubber. The strobe of oncoming headlights has Trevor whipping around, the gun lowered beside him. I remain where I am, willing the car to slow, for the occupants to get out and help me. Trevor turns back to me and snarls, “Remember what I said. Don’t come back. Or next time I’ll fucking shoot, right?” He runs toward his idling car, yanking open the door and jumping inside. His yell of “Go, go, go!” reminds me of the movies, and if I wasn’t so scared I’d fucking laugh. The other car slows as Trevor’s speeds away, and I stare across the road at it, already forgiving the driver if he roars off. He doesn’t. Or rather, she doesn’t. Her pretty face turns toward me, and she looks through the glass. The window glides down, and she studies me wide-eyed. She seems familiar, maybe a couple of years older than me, and I wonder if I know her from school.

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“You okay?” she asks. I nod, though I’m far from okay. “You want me to call the police?” I shake my head. “No. No, it’s just some lads fucking about. It’s…it’s all right.” “Want a lift into town?” I think about it for a second. God, she’s brave offering me a ride. “What’s the time?” “Quarter to eleven.” I won’t make it to town in time if I walk. “Do you mind? I’ve…my jeans are wet.” She looks down at my legs, and a fleeting expression of sympathy skips over her face. “No, it’s fine. Come on.” I pick up my bag, cross the road, and hesitate at the passenger door. Should I get in? Involve this woman in my shit? I have no choice really. Still shaking, I open the door and put my bag in the footwell then get in, feet resting either side, conscious of my wet jeans on her leather seat. I close the door and slip my seatbelt on; she drives, eyes focused ahead. “He’s a bastard.” Her jaw muscles twitch. “Who, him back there?”

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“Yeah, him. Trevor.” “You know him, then?” “Doesn’t everyone?” “Yeah, I s’pose.” “You piss him off?” “Yeah.” “What did you do?” I’m going to tell the truth. Fuck it. For the first time, I’m going to admit it out loud to a stranger. “Nothing. He doesn’t like me…doesn’t like me being gay.” A sense of freedom slices through me, and it feels so good to come clean, to get it out there. To let the words roll off my tongue. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted. “Is that right?” She glances my way then back at the road. “Fuck me! He’s got some serious problems if that’s all it was.” “Yeah.” I smile, want to laugh, really laugh. She’s just accepted it like I said nothing more than an inane comment, yet Trevor, Mum…Christ, why are some people so against it? What’s it got to do with them anyway? “You moving away?” She nods at my bag. “Yeah. Need to…need to—”

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“Don’t blame you. This place is a shithole.” We’ve reached town, and she swerves the car into the parking bay beside the bus station. “I take it this is where you wanted to go?” She holds the steering wheel at ten and two, turning to look at me. “Yeah. And thanks. For—” “No problem. Look, you take care of yourself, all right?” Her kindness almost breaks me, and I mumble my thanks again and get out of the car, pulling the bag free. I shut the door and watch her drive away, her hand lifting in a wave. Swallowing a ball of emotion, I run over to the nearby cashpoint and withdraw a hundred quid, then make my way to the large bus timetable mounted on a closed cafeteria wall. The only bus leaving tonight is heading north, going through Biddingford, an ideal, out-of-theway place that’ll suit me just fine. We passed it once years ago on our way to Hayling Island and the holiday camp there. Dad had mentioned how sleepy and quiet it seemed, but Mum had said it was too sleepy for her. No way would she manage

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living in a place like that. The memory cements my destination, and I turn in a circle, looking at the stars, wondering what my future holds. It’s got to be better than my past, albeit without Ryan in it for a while. The low grumble of a coach approaching yanks me out of my reverie, and I walk to the bus stop, the only person wanting out of this place tonight. The coach pulls to a stop with squeaking brakes and the hiss of the door sliding open, and I grip the handrail, one foot on the bottom step. “You leaving dead on eleven?” I ask the driver. He stares down at me from his elevated perch, grey bushy eyebrows above dark brown eyes, his pasty, lined face lit up by the interior light above his head. “Yep. Why?” “Have I got time to nip to the loo and change my jeans? Spilled Coke down them.” He glances at my legs and nods. “Yep. Go on then. But be quick about it.” I sort myself out and return to the coach, climb aboard, pay my fair, and take a seat at the back. I reckon I’ve got a good three hours before

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we get to Biddingford. No other passenger occupies the bus, so I stretch out on the back seat, my head propped up on my bag. The coach eases out of the station, and I stare through the window, watching the familiar buildings pass by, a bittersweet feeling floating through me. Good to be going, but still a little sad. All that’s left here for me is Ryan, and I reckon he’ll wait for me. That thought is the only thing that’ll keep me going. I pull my phone out of my pocket and press a speed dial button. Ryan answers after the first ring, not a hint of sleep in his voice. He’s been worrying, I’ll bet, and my love for him grows. “You all right?” he asks. “Yeah, you?” “Not bad.” “Where are you?” “On a coach.” “Shit, so you’re really going.” He pauses, then, “Where’re you headed?” “Place called Biddingford. I’ll let you know when I get there. I’ll have to sort out a place to live. Get a job and all that.” The enormity of that

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weighs heavy on me, hitting me like a sack of shit. “I’m scared, Ryan.” “Shit. I wish I was there. With you. But I know…I get what you’re doing.” “Things’ll work out. I’ve just got to stand on my own two feet now.” “Yeah.” Another pause. “What if you can’t find a place and a job?” “Then I’ll go somewhere else.” “Where?” “Dunno.” “Fuck. You got enough cash?” “Yeah. Took out a hundred. Think I’ve got another hundred or so in the bank.” “Christ, Lee! You could have rented a bedsit here with that! Got out of your mum’s place ages ago.” I sigh. “I know, but I didn’t have the guts. And now I have, now I’ve got it straight in my head where I’m going… It’s all good. Trust me.” “I do but… I’ll wait for you, all right? However long it takes.” “I know you will. But you can’t wait forever. What if it takes a long time? What if

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I’m gone a few years and someone else comes along?” “What, for you or for me?” “For you.” He sighs. “They won’t.” “But you don’t know that.” “I don’t care. If they do, they can fuck right off.” I laugh. “Same feelings here, but it’s just…I don’t want you to feel you have to keep to what you’ve said now. Things change. People change.” “You trying to tell me to back off? To leave it?” “No. Just giving you an out if you need one.” “Right. And you’ll tell me if you meet someone else?” “Yeah, but I won’t.” His soft chuckle filters into my ear. “Yet you’ve just lectured me—” “I know. Listen, I’m fucked. Need some sleep. No idea if there’s a bed and breakfast in this Biddingford place, and if there is, it might not be open, so I need to catch some sleep in case—” “You’re not sleeping rough all night!”

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“Might not have a choice.” “For fuck’s sake!” “Look, it’ll be all right. I’ll find a shed. Somewhere like that.” “Make sure you do. And text me if you can’t find a place to sleep, all right?” “Yep.” “Promise?” “Yep.” “Love you, Lee.” “Love you too, Ryan.” I snap my phone closed before he says anything else, because my voice would crack if I had to reply. Eyes shut, I squeeze them tight, but a tear still trickles out. I feel foolish for crying, for being reduced to a little kid again, but shit, it’s been one hell of a night. One hell of a life so far. Sleep doesn’t come, my mind too alert, filled with images from the past, all flitting through my head at speed, coming to a stop at the last time I’d seen Dad. It was a couple of years ago. The time since he’d left saw me meeting him sporadically, for maybe an hour or two on a

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Sunday—always a Sunday—when Mum allowed me to go with strict instructions to remember everything he said and report back to her. And I did, for a while, but as the years passed I kept some things to myself, treasuring the secret knowledge that she thought I was doing as she’d asked, oblivious that Dad’s words remained locked inside my mind. Last time we’d gone to the wildlife park in his car, him joking I was too damn old for this kind of shit but fuck it, we’d go anyway. We’d walked round, talking about everything and nothing, and lunchtime saw us sitting in the beer garden of a fake Tudor pub, the wildlife park a few miles away, forgotten for a while. “You know why I left, don’t you?” Dad asked, fingers wet from the condensation off his pint glass. He traced a fingertip around the rim. “Should have taken you with me.” “I understand why you didn’t. She’d have fought you for me.” I took a sip of my Coke. “It’s all right. I don’t blame you for going. I would if I could.”

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“But you can now you’re sixteen. You could come and live with me. Nothing she can do about that.” I thought about it—only for a second, mind— and nodded, hope growing inside me that I could get away from her. Be free. “You’d like that?” Dad raised his glass, swallowed a mouthful of beer. He licked froth off his top lip. “Yeah. Be great.” “You sure?” “God, yeah.” Excitement swirled in my belly, and I smiled, big and wide. I looked at him, and he winked, but it wasn’t long before his face clouded. “I wasn’t doing anything I shouldn’t have been, you know, son.” “I know.” “It was just…she was so… Shit, I shouldn’t be talking about her to you.” “It’s all right. I don’t mind.” “How…how has it been? With her?” “Bit rough.” “She been hitting you?”

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“Yeah.” “Bad?” “Yeah.” “Shit. I knew it. I should have—” “Doesn’t matter.” “It does.” We sat in silence, and I turned away to look out over a large field. Cows mooched, some with their heads bent munching on grass, others lying in the sun. “They reckon when a cow’s laying down it means rain’s on the way,” Dad said. I nodded. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” I stared at the clear blue sky. “Me neither.” After lunch, on the journey back Dad went through what we’d do next. I was to wait until Mum’d left for work the next day then pack my things. Dad would pick me up about eleven, and I’d be free. Free of her, free to catch up on all the time I’d missed with Dad. As I got out of his car, he said, “It’ll be grand, son, you’ll see.”

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The phone ringing that night, it’d sounded shriller than usual, faster, the space between rings shorter. I tiptoed from my room and crouched in the darkness at the top of the stairs, watching Mum as she spoke on the phone in the hallway, light from the living room doorway spilling onto her back. “Right. Okay… Yes, yes, I’m fine… Well, it’s no skin off my nose, is it? Don’t know why you even bothered to ring… Lee? Oh, right… Yes, I suppose so. Yes…yes…goodbye.” She turned and looked up the stairs, spotting me before I had the chance to scoot back into my room. “That was your aunt. Your dad’s dead.” She swivelled and walked back into the living room. Leaving me devastated. I thumped down onto my arse, leaned my head against the wall, and let the tears fall. I didn’t sob, didn’t sniff, just sat staring at the phone in its cradle—the damn phone that had allowed a voice to ooze out such horrific news and for a spiteful woman to receive it. Blinking now, I open my eyes and stare out the coach window, the vehicle cocooned in the

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darkness of what I imagine is a country road. No lights beam down like they would on a motorway, and I stare at the reflection of myself in the glass, a skinny young guy struggling to come to terms with what’s gone by and what’s up ahead. But I can do it, no doubt about that now. Already I feel stronger, as though the further away from home I get the hold it had on me loosens, its power receding. I spend another two hours dozing on and off. The coach heaves to a stop, and I look outside, the sight of a road lined with houses sparking off a memory. “Biddingford!” the driver calls. I stand, working out the kinks in my neck, and lift my bag, which seems heavier now. I lug it down the gangway, pausing beside the driver to thank him, then leave the coach, the cold whip of a hearty wind snapping me fully awake. I glance around, every house light doused apart from the home beside me. I take a deep breath and walk up the garden path, readying myself to ask the occupant for directions to a bed and breakfast.

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At the door, I ignore my fast-beating heart and close my hand into a fist, rapping my knuckles against the wood. My new life starts now, right this minute, and my future glimmers, ready to become an inferno.

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Dedication

BURNING ~ Chapter One Night comes swiftly, bringing with it a smattering of stars that seem to twinkle and a heavy-looking moon the colour of magnolias. The cold, still air ruffles the hair about my ears, and I shiver, looking down from this hill at the village of Biddingford. The moon casts enough illumination over the cottages and houses so that I can make out the colour they’re painted, albeit a duller hue in the darkness. Yellow lights shine from windows, and the glow from the lampposts, few and far between, look like the stars above, only peach not white. Complete darkness hasn’t arrived yet, but it won’t be long

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before it does, and I’ll go inside after a long day at work and ease the aches away. Though the aches in my heart will remain without Ryan. In some ways it’s been difficult being here without him. I can’t just text and ask to meet. We live miles from one another, and at first I found it hard to adjust. You know, being self-sufficient and all that. Even not having Mum around was weird. Don’t get me wrong, I hated the way she abused me, treating me like shit on her shoe, but when you’ve had that all your life, despite wanting to be free of it, when you are it’s alien. Conditioned as I was to tolerating whatever she dished out—because, damn it, she was my mum—I expected her to find out where I’d gone and seek me out, arriving on my doorstep complete with a stored up, gob full of vitriol and a leather belt in her hand. But she hasn’t, and I suppose I ought to be grateful for that. At the same time, though, it makes me wonder: Did I ever mean anything to her? Really mean anything? Of course, Ryan knows where I am, but he’d never tell her. She made no bones about disliking

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‘his kind’, and the night she caught us in my room, well, it cemented her view of him. She’d always made a point of letting me know how she felt about him being gay. Reckoned it wasn’t right, wasn’t normal, but shit, it’s normal to me and Ryan. Anyway, I left that night, packed my damn bag and said goodbye to Ryan, and nearly didn’t make it to the bus station in time for the last coach. This jerk I knew from school, Trevor his name is, stopped me, pointed his gun in my face, and basically told me to leave town and not come back. Like I’d ever fucking want to. Not with him around. Ryan’s always been able to handle Trevor and his sort. Kind of shrugged their comments off as unimportant. I wish I could be the same, but those taunts stung—still do if I think about them—and that’s one more reason for me being here. I need to get to grips with who I am and what I want without negativity surrounding me. Quite amazing, really, that the night I arrived in this middle-of-nowhere place, the first door I knocked on housed a family who didn’t hesitate to take me in. I could have been anyone, a young

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man bent on robbing them, especially since it was late at night. The guy who opened the door, Josh, a husband and father of two, told me later he’d spotted my fear, my loneliness, and knew I wasn’t someone out to do them harm. Funny how we can get it so right at times, yet others we trust only to find ourselves deep in shit or hurt. Josh led me into the living room, explaining to his wife, Sue, that I’d just got off the coach and needed somewhere to stay. Far from being shocked, she’d stood from where she’d been laying on the sofa, adjusted the belt on her bright pink dressing gown, and smiled. She disappeared through a door at the back of the room, and Josh urged me to sit and take off my coat, make myself at home. I couldn’t get over it—couldn’t get to grips with how different it was here. That’s not to say I haven’t encountered people who don’t appreciate who I am and accept me as a nice guy regardless of who I’m shagging, but hey, you can’t have everything. “My name’s Lee,” I said, draping my coat over the sofa arm and sitting on the edge. “I…” I’d hesitated in telling the truth, letting Josh know I’m gay, but seeing as I had no one to hide

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it from I blurted the whole sorry story out, expecting Josh to ask me to leave. He didn’t. Instead, he lowered himself into a chair and listened, the smell of baked beans and fried eggs filtering into the room. My stomach growled, but I ploughed on, gaze fixed to the carpet when it came to explaining Mum and how she was. “She…she doesn’t understand. Treated me like shit once Dad left, see, and I’ve been trying to get away for a long time, only I didn’t have the guts.” Josh nodded, scrubbing his stubbly chin, and I went on to reveal my love for Ryan, how we’d been best friends since childhood. It all came spilling out. Seems I just needed someone to listen to me, to keep their opinions to themselves while I let the words flow. As I recall, mentioning Ryan had brought tears to my eyes, and I dashed them away, angry at myself for the lack of selfcontrol. “Cry,” Josh said. “Sometimes it’s the only way to go.” And I had. Cried like some young kid, and it felt good, you know? Like a massive weight had

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been lifted and I’d been released from incarceration. Yeah, that sounds dramatic, but it’s the truth all the same. “Dad dropped me off that night, the last night I’d seen him, and when he was halfway home he crashed the car.” I sniffed. “Shit, my old dear— she got the call he’d gone—just told me bluntly he was dead. Didn’t tell me when the funeral was. I never did get to say goodbye.” “That’s harsh.” Josh frowned. “That’s Mum.” Sue came in with a plate of beans and eggs on toast, placing the tray on my knees. “Would you like a drink? Tea all right?” I looked up at her. Seemed to me she’d been crying, had maybe heard everything I’d said, and emotion grabbed hold of me that strangers could be so fucking kind. After my nod, she left the room again, and I ate the meal, so damn grateful for their generosity. I’ve been friends with them since, and I have to admit that a small part of me believes in fate, that I was meant to come here. Later, all talked out, I slept on the sofa, Sue bringing a quilt and pillow and a spare set of

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Josh’s shorts. There was never any mention of their kids, of the fact that I might go up there when the house was silent and hurt them all or steal their things. Might sound odd to some, but it was like I’d known them a lot longer, that I was a friend of theirs coming to stay. And the kids accepted me the next morning, clambering onto me as I woke, asking me where I came from and what it was like living there. Those kids, God, they reminded me of my childhood, what with their innocence and trusting eyes. I let them tumble all over me and had to shove the dark thoughts away. That they didn’t have a clue what life was like when you grew up. Didn’t have a clue how hard it could be. I remember thinking—must have been about eleven or twelve—that when I got older everything would be fine. Easier, a piece of piss. I got a rude awakening there, all right. After breakfast that first morning in Biddingford, Josh gave me the lifeline I’d wanted in so long. I wondered if my needing somewhere to stay had been on his mind, whether he and Sue had discussed it until the early hours, working out how they could help me. He

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explained his grandfather had recently passed, leaving behind a cabin on top of the hill I stand on now. He offered it to me for fifty quid a week—a bloody bargain I wasn’t about to turn down—and I paid him a month in advance so I had time to look for a job. Turned out he worked in the next town over at a candle factory, and he got me a job there too. I have so much to thank him and Sue for, but each time I try and show them my gratitude, they wave their hands as though they did nothing at all to warrant my thanks. It’s been a while since I left home, and I speak to Ryan via phone and emails, sometimes instant messenger late into the night. Keeping in touch this way gives me the contact I need but also the space to grow comfortable with myself. Sounds crazy, but I had so much shit going on, so much I needed to sift through, that being with Ryan wasn’t an option. I’d have ignored what needed cleaning out of the old attic inside my head and focused on him instead, and later the crap might have spilled out at the wrong time and place. It would have festered for so long, and who knows, it may have done more damage than good. Sometimes being

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alone is for the best. Seeing new faces, easing into a new life. Besides, I wanted to be sure what I felt for Ryan was genuine and not my first crush. And shit it’s genuine. My love for him burns. It hurts to be without him if I’m honest, but I wanted him to have the chance to live a little without me around. He may well have found someone else with me out of the picture, and it’d be less messy if he had while I wasn’t there to witness it or influence him. As it happens, two years have passed and we both still feel the same, so I reckon I’m safe to say he’s the one for me. Still, I reckon I need to open up more. Tell him about Josh and Sue instead of leaving the minute details out of my emails and conversations. It’s like when I speak to him I don’t want to tell him anything about this place unless he presses me to. It’s because, well, I want to listen to him. To hear his voice not my own. To know what he’s doing and how things are going for him back home. And then I feel selfish, because he’d maybe want the same from me. Shit, I still have so much to learn, so much to understand when it comes to relationships. Those chat shows, they’d tell me I

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had childhood issues that prevented me from moving on or knowing how to behave with other people, and they might be right. Still, Ryan doesn’t push. He knows me, knows I’ll just go into my shell. It’s just the way I am, how I deal with things. I smile now and turn toward the cabin, letting myself inside. In the living room, I switch on the electric fire and stand before it, hands out to receive the warmth. I’ve done well to get this place how I have it. When I first moved in, Josh’s grandfather’s stuff was still here. Old-fashioned furniture that had definitely seen better days and dusty carpets in need of a bloody good clean. I’d dumped them, spending weekends sprucing up the bare floorboards beneath, shoulders aching for my trouble. It was worth it, though, and now I have a nice place, somewhere I’m proud of. Somewhere I’d be glad to bring Ryan. He hasn’t mentioned coming to see me, doing what I’d silently hoped and leaving me be while I work through the shit in my head. He’s good like that—in tune with my feelings without me having to say anything. It’s like he picks up on my mood, a vibe I must give off, and he’s just there for me.

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After hanging my coat up, I go into the kitchen and sling a frozen cottage pie in the oven to cook. A tin of carrots and peas in a pan on the hob and the kettle boiling for a cuppa will set me up for an evening on the sofa with a full belly. Leaving the room, I take the stairs at a weary plod, muscles aching. Friday always sees me like this. Too worn out to want to do anything much. A bath will help, warming the kinks in my body and washing away a week that saw us scrabbling to pack candles quicker than usual, what with Christmas just around the corner. Ryan will ring later, probably around eight, and we’ll pass the time talking about everything and nothing until one of us goes quiet, eyes closing, sleep carrying us away. I close my eyes on our evening calls and imagine he’s here, that his voice isn’t filtering down a phone line but coming from across the room or beside me. It’s about time we met up again, but I don’t want to be the one to instigate it. He might not want to come. Oh, I know he says he does, but people do that, don’t they? Say one thing and mean another because they don’t want to cause offence.

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I run a bath and leave it to cool a little, returning downstairs to eat. The food is bland, boring, but it fills a hole. Josh asked if I’d like to eat with them—and I do that quite often—but I don’t like to impose. Not tonight, when he’d mentioned wanting to get the kids to bed early and spend some quality time with Sue. I feel like I’m always in their faces, always taking up their time. They don’t do anything that suggests that’s how they see things, but…shit, maybe I’m always going to worry that I’m a burden to everyone in my life. Bathed and dressed in joggers and a T-shirt, I settle on the sofa and boot up my laptop. Ryan’s probably written, as he does every day before he goes to work, and my stomach bunches in anticipation of reading his words. They always lighten me, and I hear his voice in my head, see the way his hands would move had he been speaking to me in person. I log in to my email account, excitement building, and smile as my gaze lands on his name and the title of his email: Missing You. From: [email protected] Sent: Friday 12 November, 18:47 To: [email protected]

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All right? Shit, I had a case of Missing You Syndrome today. Been thinking about the old days, what a laugh we used to have, and it hit me really bad that you’re not five minutes away anymore. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t want to put pressure on you, but if I don’t tell you how I feel you might think I don’t give a shit then find someone else. There I go again. Pressure. Fuck. Work was the pits today. Some prick got right on my nerves. That guy I told you about, the one who always has his nose in everyone’s business—he got in my business. Started telling me how to do my job, like he’s my boss or something. Christ, he’s just the same as me. So I lost my temper, told him he ought to piss right off and get on with his own work. He stared at me for ages, like he

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wanted to punch my lights out, then stormed off. Saw him later, clenching his fists, and I thought about asking him if he wanted to land them on me. I’ve got to get out of here. Out of town. Go somewhere different. Sound a bit like you, don’t I? And there was me saying I couldn’t leave here, would miss Mum and Dad, but that was back when I didn’t know better. Now, well, I miss you like fuck and just wish I had the balls to up and leave like you did. Then again, knowing me, tomorrow I’ll wake up feeling differently. I get on my own nerves the way I chop and change my mind. But now Mum and Dad are getting divorced, it’s like the family unit has broken down, so what does it matter whether I stay here or not? I still can’t get over those two splitting up. Thought they’d be together for life.

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So, got anything interesting to tell me? If you have time before I give you a ring, write back. I’m sitting here bored shitless. Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. Trevor got arrested. It’s in the paper and on the local news. He only went and fucking shot someone with that bloody gun of his. Too many witnesses to get out of it this time, and I hope he gets put away and they lose the damn key. I never did ask you, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I heard them bragging just after you left that Trevor pulled his gun on you. That right? If it is, why the hell didn’t you tell me? Don’t answer that. I know why, and you’d be right. I would have gone and seen him, gun or not, and…yeah, you know what I’d have done. He’s one bloke I wouldn’t mind doing time for, know what I mean?

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What else? Oh, I saw your mum today. She looked at me like I was a piece of shit at first. Stared right down her nose at me. I smiled like nothing was wrong, gave her a wave. She stared for a bit longer then smiled back. Talk about fucking with my mind! I thought she hated me. Then again, she probably does. Maybe she smiled because she thought I’d stop and speak to her and she could find out where you are. Not likely I’ll be telling her anything. Sorry to say it, but you’re better off without her. Anyway, I’ve gotta shoot downstairs and eat. Fucking starving. I’ll give you a ring soon. Catch you later.

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BURNING ~ Chapter Two Ryan’s emails, ah, they make me wish I’d never left. Make me wish I could see him, even if only for a minute. And he’d said he wanted to leave town. I should have mentioned him coming here when I wrote back but I didn’t. I could kick myself now. Perfect opportunity missed. Damn me and my bloody issues. I should have asked him here, told him he was welcome any time. Then again, there’s always the phone call in a bit. Yeah right, like I’m going to find it easier to say. Fuck. Me resting here like this, head on the sofa arm, legs crossed…anyone looking through the

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window would think I had it made. Single bloke, no one telling me what to do, no one expecting anything of me once I get home and close the front door. Funny how we think like that when we know from our own experiences that everyone has stuff they wrestle with. Everyone has problems they’d like to get rid of. Everyone has things they’d like to say but can’t. Fear of rejection, that’s my problem, and no amount of reassurance from Ryan will change that. I do know I need to tell him things but… The phone rings, startling me even though I’ve been waiting for it. I press the answer button, smiling at seeing Ryan’s name on the small screen. “All right?” “Yeah, you?” God, his voice just makes everything all better. Right. “Yeah, not too bad. Tired. Glad it’s the weekend.” I pause, willing myself to come out and say something, anything so he knows I want him here. “Glad you rang.” Shit, that wasn’t what I meant to say, but it’ll have to do.

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“I was a bit worried you’d be pissed off with me.” His voice hums through me, burning everything away. The bad thoughts. The insecurities. The loneliness. “Why?” “Me mentioning Trevor and your mum in that email.” I frown. “Didn’t you get my reply?” “Shit. That would help, wouldn’t it? I didn’t check for one. Just ate my dinner, showered, then rang you. Hang on and I’ll pull it up.” Scuffles sound, like he’s wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder, and I can see him doing it, face all scrunched up as he concentrates. “I didn’t say much. Just bullshit mainly. You didn’t upset me anyway.” “Ah, right. I see that now.” He mumbles my written words, and I imagine him in his darkened room, the monitor glow highlighting his cheekbones, his jaw, and damn, I want him. Want him here where I can touch and kiss and smell and fuck. My cock hardens, tenting up my joggers, and I loose an unsteady breath to try and calm my racing

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heart. He does this to me every time. I open my mouth to tell him, explain what I’m feeling while I’m feeling it. Shyness, the inability to express my emotions, and the clearing of his throat stops me. “Read it,” he says, voice catching. “I miss you, man.” I close my eyes, take in a deep breath, and clamp my teeth together to stop myself blurting everything out. Silence rules the line for a moment, then his breathing triggers me into speaking. “Miss you too. I…I…had a shit day at work myself too.” Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. “Yeah? You got a guy at your place like I have at mine?” I laugh. “Nah, just had a crap day. Friday and all that. Wanting to get out of that place. What are you up to this weekend? Anything?” Please say you’ll come here. Please tell me you’ll get on a coach and spend two days with me. “Doing a lot of fuck all, to be honest.” He pauses, then, “Actually, scrap that. Just remembered I need to help Dad paint his living

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room. He moved out, didn’t he, what with them getting divorced. Shit, I still can’t get over that. Thought they’d be set for life, but people change, don’t they? And Mum hasn’t said whether she knows I’m doing it or not—not that she’d mind. He’s still my dad. I haven’t seen her for a few days. Must pop round there really. And I need to clean this shit-hole up. Living on your own sucks like that.” He sighs. “Painting isn’t something I really want to do, but hey, saves me being bored. Like I told you the other night, I’ve given up going clubbing. Realised it isn’t my scene. It’s like I wanted to try it just to see what went on, how it was, then wondered what all the fuss was about. And bumping into people from school, pissed out of their heads or fucked on drugs…it’s all bullshit. Can’t be arsed. Would rather be ringing you anyway.” It’s the perfect time for me to open my mouth and lead the conversation down a road I should have led it a long time ago, but my throat tightens. Instead, I say, “I’ve never been. Doesn’t appeal. The gym does me for entertainment. That and the TV and books. Bit of a boring bastard, really.”

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“Only you think you’re boring. So, you don’t reckon you’ll be wanting to get out there and mingle, then?” Did he say what I thought he did? Asking if I’m seeing someone else without coming right out with it? Surely he knows how I feel. I never mention anyone; all right, occasionally Josh and Sue but… I should put his mind at rest. “Nope. Got no need to go out, have I?” “Haven’t you? Why’s that, then?” “Too tired by the weekend for one thing.” Shit. Just say it! “And…?” “And I just…just don’t want to go out.” “Ah, right. Doing anything this weekend? Meeting anyone?” He’s worried, yet I’m still hedging on telling him I’m waiting for him. I don’t want to influence his decisions. The need to come here has to be his choice. “Nope. Planned on staying home.” “Alone?” “Yep.” Tell him. Ask him. “D’you… D’you…reckon Trevor will be put away for a

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long time, then?” Brilliant, Lee, just fucking brilliant. Ryan sighs. “Dunno. I’d like to think so. Be interesting to see how his mates behave without their boss, know what I mean?” “Yeah. You seen them without him around?” I listen while Ryan talks, let his voice wash over me, around me, through me, and my hand strays inside my joggers. I palm my hard cock, wishing his hand covered it, his fingertips tracing the tip, circling the head. I remember the way he’d ground against me on my last night back home, how his silky skin brushed mine, our cocks squashed together. And my legs had turned to jelly, my need to have him closer an urgent force that took my breath away. I gasp now, blushing at my actions, and Ryan stops talking. After a beat he asks, “You all right?” “Yeah. Yeah, just ignore me.” “You tired? You yawned then.” “Sorry. Didn’t mean—” “Hey, get some sleep. It’s all right. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow, yeah? That’s if we get the painting done in good time.

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My lie has effectively ended the call and will take him away before I’m ready to let him go. I curse myself. “All right, but I don’t mind talking, you know. I’m all right.” “No. You’re tired. Time for me to hit the sack anyway.” Ryan’s never been one to turn in early. Fuck. I grimace and stare at the ceiling. “Okay.” “I’ll email tomorrow if I have time, yeah?” “Yeah. That’ll be good. See you.” “Yep, see you.” He’s gone, taken his ability to burn with him, and I clutch the phone to my chest, lost, hollow inside. My cock’s still hard, still needing attention, and despite feeling sad I fist it, the desire to come a strong sensation that fills me. I work faster, harder, bucking my hips to mimic thrusts, and a thought arrives unbidden, one I’ve entertained before. Ryan tying my hands and fucking my ass. My imagination runs riot, and I allow the images to flicker in my mind’s eye, relying on what I think it would be like rather than from experience. His cock fills me, stretches

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my hole, sending socks of pleasure-pain into the base of my balls and throughout my cock. He moves slowly, and I do the same with my hand, squeezing tightly to mirror what my ass-hole would feel like around his dick. Pressure mounts in my balls, and my ass-hole clenches. Fuck, I need him inside me, his hand fisting my cock, rope chafing my bound wrists. I jerk away my jogger’s waistband with the back of my hand, the cool air wrapping itself around my cock-tip. Opening my eyes, I look down at myself, taking in the sight of my hand going up and down. It proves too much. Cum spurts, landing hot and fast on my belly, and a rush of pleasure surges through me. I squeeze my eyes closed and lift my ass from the sofa, toes splayed, jerking my cock in and out of my fist. I see Ryan, feel him working my ass, and another rope of cum leaves me, widening my cock and setting my teeth to clenching. I cry out in part pleasure, part yearning, and huff out a stuttered breath. I grip the sofa back with my free hand, fingers digging into it, and lower my ass as another orgasmic spasm

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overtakes my body. I slow my hand, aftershocks stabbing my cock, and lay still, spent and out of breath. Sweat prickles my temples and glides down into a neck crease. I open my eyes, see stars glittering in the air above, and wait for my body to return to normal. Blinking to clear my vision, I wipe the cum with my T-shirt, wishing Ryan’s tongue lapped it up. Would he want to taste it? Do all the things to me that I wanted? How would he take me asking him to tie my hands? I don’t know, don’t know anything much about that because we haven’t talked about it. Haven’t really discussed our last night together, either. We’ve just chatted as mates, like we always did before, and skirted around what we both probably want to talk about. This has to stop, doesn’t it? This pussyfooting around and shit. We need to get stuff out in the open. I tuck my cock inside my joggers and sit up, taking off my T-shirt, and stare ahead at the electric fire and the novels on the bookshelf. I’m going to send Ryan an email. Tell him what I want. Need.

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I lift the laptop to my knees and boot up, logging onto my email account. I pause while thinking what to say, knowing I need to speak up but not knowing how to put it. And in my usual fashion I tap the keys, saying the only thing that feels right. Miss you. **** Sleep doesn’t want to come, despite how tired I am. My body’s shattered, but my mind is wide awake, pinging from one thought to the next, all of them whirring around, a whirlpool of indecision and what ifs. I’m a prick, you know? I risk losing the only person I’ve ever loved besides Dad, and all because I can’t open my mouth and spill out my feelings. I can’t keep thinking about this. Going on and on about it. I stare at the window. A cloud must have covered the moon and shunted away, because moonlight sneaks through a wide chink in the curtains where I’ve left the blackout blind rolled up. The shaft splashes onto the wall, an oblong of

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silver. It’s like a projector screen, and Ryan’s face appears on it, frown in place, mouth downturned. Have I made him unhappy by my inability to tell him what he plainly wants to hear? I reckon I have. Shit. No one told me this would be so hard. No one explained that love can rip you up, fuck you up, and make you happy at the same time. Yet I chose this damn route. Chose this solitary life. I only have myself to blame.

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BURNING ~ Chapter Three Time passes quickly yet not. How has another two years gone by without me sharing my inner feelings with Ryan? How has he put up with keeping in touch but not visiting? Weird, because everything’s the same but different. It’s like I’ve grown up a bit but the child within lurks, worried, fretful, alone. Ryan still emails and calls. My job’s the same as it was. Josh and Sue are just Josh and Sue, and Josh is in the living room now, over for a beer and a movie. What am I doing standing in the kitchen, staring out the window when my mate’s in there? The

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usual thoughts batter my head, erasing my concern about Josh and my duty as host. Maybe, after all this time, I’ve pushed Ryan away from the idea of us getting together. Maybe he thinks if he asks to come I’ll tell him to fuck off, that I just want to remain friends who live apart. What a fucking mess. I’m ready for him to visit, ready to see him again and make a go of things. Ready to accept who I am, my past, and my future. Without Ryan in it, it isn’t worth shit. I stare out the window for a minute longer, taking in a deep breath and trying to work out what feels wrong tonight. Something’s not right, hasn’t been since yesterday, like a piece of me disappeared and a fierce freedom took its place. I don’t understand it. Don’t think anything’s happened to trigger it off; not that I know of, anyway. Yet… My mobile phone rings, and I turn from the window, going into the living room to pick it up. Ryan’s name is on screen—shit, I forgot to tell him I was busy tonight. Adrenaline surges

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through me, and I nod at Josh, who is sprawled out on the sofa, though why I bothered I don’t know. He’s fixated on the TV and Hannibal Lecter. I go back to the kitchen and answer the call. “Hello, mate. How’re you doing?” “All right. You?” His voice—God, it sends shivers through me. Shivers of longing. “Fine, fine. Watching a bit of TV. You?” “Um, just been for a long walk.” “What? Tell me you’re taking the piss.” Ryan going on a long walk is like me telling him how I feel. Unlikely unless pushed. “Nope. Hill walking.” My eyes widen, and I stifle a laugh. “You? Fucking hill walking?” “Yeah. Listen, I was wondering, d’you feel ready for a visit yet?” “What, from you?” Of course from him. Who else? And shit, yes, I want you to visit. Want you here right now, your skin against mine, your voice in my ear… “Yeah.”

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“Fuck yeah. When were you thinking of coming?” Next weekend? I can get through a week no problem if I know you’re coming. “Now.” What the fuck? I didn’t hear him right. Didn’t…I… “Now?” “Yeah. Open your front door.” “What?” He’s never here, is he? Outside? “Just do it.” My guts roll over, and I smile so wide, so damn wide my eyes crinkle closed. With a shaking hand I flick on the hallway light then fumble with the door lock like my fingers have expanded. Swinging the door wide, I squint out at the hilltop, the doormat fibres digging into my bare feet. Ryan stands there, my beautiful fucking Ryan who makes everything worthwhile, everything fit into place, everything right, a beanie hat on his shaved head. I lower the phone, telling myself I’m dreaming, that he isn’t standing there laughing and slipping his phone into his pocket. That he isn’t stepping closer. “That you?” “Yep.”

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“Fuck me! How…? What…?” I stare at him, take in his face. His jawline’s more rigid, squarer, but his eyes remain the same. “A beer would be nice.” Ryan steps up to the door, and a blast of his scent wraps around me. “But a hug’ll do.” I open my arms and bring him into them— Christ, that feels so damn good—and pat his back, though I want to do other things with my hands. Fondle, stroke, smooth. His cheek is warm against mine, the first smattering of stubble good on my skin, and all too quickly he pulls back. His lips brush mine, just the briefest of touches, but God, my cock swells. I’m conscious of Josh being inside, and shit, I wish I’d stayed home alone tonight. I stare at Ryan then step back, ushering him inside. “What a fucking shock, but shit, it’s good to see you.” Closing the door, I walk down the hallway to the kitchen, hoping Ryan follows and doesn’t go into the living room. Not until I’ve had a chance to introduce him to Josh. “Want a beer, mate?” I put my phone on side and look at Ryan, who stands holding a bag. I nod to it. “Dump that

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on the floor. I’ll sort out the spare room later. I don’t have many guests. Sheets need changing.” Please don’t use the spare room. Please share mine. I open the fridge and pull out a beer, handing it to Ryan. I can’t stop grinning! “Can’t believe you just did that to me! Nice surprise, though. Shit, come here!” I have to have him close, want him near me—he’s too far away right now. Ryan steps into my arms, his body warmth a stark contrast to the cold seeping from the fridge. He rests his cheek on my chest, and fuck, I’m a goner. I’m in love with him, always have been, and my stupidity in not telling him sooner crashes into me, a massive slam hell bent on waking me up to smell the damn coffee. He puts his beer on the side and smoothes his hands up and down my back. I do the same, feeling for any changes since we were last together. There are a few—broader back, shoulder blades more defined, a dip at his lower back—but all in all he’s the same Ryan. He raises his head, looks at me, tears in his eyes. “Shit, I’ve missed you.”

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My eyebrows rise, and I offer a lopsided grin, too happy to answer him right away. After a few seconds I say, “Didn’t realise how much until I saw you, but I’ve missed you too.” I grip the tops of his arms—new muscles there—and squeeze. Although I want to spend more time alone with him, I have to consider Josh. I feel selfish as the wish for Josh to go sweeps through me, but hell, I can’t just turf him out, not after everything he’s done for me. “Come on into the living room.” With reluctance I let Ryan go, hand him his beer again and close the fridge. Taking a deep breath, I lead him back down the hallway, wondering if I should tell him Josh is here or whether to just introduce them once he sees him. “Got a lot to catch up on.” I step inside the room and flop onto the black leather recliner, intent on explaining who Josh is. “Take a pew.” I look toward the sofa. “Budge up, Josh.” Josh swings his feet off the sofa and sits at the end nearest to me. He nods at Ryan, who looks unsure, uneasy, and I smile brightly, still unable to believe he’s here. Ryan sits at the other end of the sofa, and it’s like the light has gone out

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of him, as though tiredness has caught up now he’s resting. I squirm in my seat, telling myself I can’t get up and sit with Ryan, much as I want to. “Shit. Should be introducing you, shouldn’t I? Ryan, this is Josh. Josh, this is Ryan.” “All right?” Josh says, his smile bright as he looks at Ryan. He’s a good bloke. He’ll be smiling because he knows how much Ryan means to me. I reckon he’ll go soon. Please, God, make him go! Ryan nods at Josh and snaps open his beer, his face a mask that blanks out every emotion except tension. Surely he remembers who Josh is. I know I haven’t spoken about him much, but shit, he doesn’t think…? I watch him to gauge what he’s thinking. He eyes the room, gaze darting from the tongue-and-groove walls to the fake Monet hanging above the TV in the corner beside the window. He stares at the black rug beneath his feet, looking lost and unsure and ready to bolt. Josh breaks my study of Ryan, lifting his foot up to rest an ankle on one knee. “So you’re Lee’s

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friend from years back, yeah? Heard a lot about you.” Ryan swallows, gaze still on the rug. “All good, I hope.” Josh laughs, easy in our company. “Yep, all good. So, what prompted this surprise visit, then?” Ryan looks up, his gaze glancing off me then resting on Josh. “Uh, I just came on a whim. You know, to do something different for a change.” His face reddens, and he asks, “Known Lee long?” “Long enough.” Josh laughs again, like he’s uncomfortable now. I watch Ryan, watch the tic flickering beside his right eye. He looks at me as though he wants some kind of explanation, or for Josh to go, and I detect a tinge of stress. Mouth suddenly dry, I drain my can and put it back on the table. “Josh, didn’t you say you had stuff to do?” God forgive me, but he needs to go. I look at him, willing him to get the message. “Me and Ryan have got a lot to catch up on. Old times to talk about.” Come on, mate. Go. Stop messing about—you know me well enough by now to understand where I’m going with this.

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Josh lowers his foot in a lazy motion. He’s a damn wind-up merchant, but in this case it isn’t funny. Ryan doesn’t look right. Does he think Josh is my bloke? “Ah, I see,” Josh says. “You want to be alone.” He winks and stands. “Anyway, I’ve got to be getting back. Sue’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.” He turns to face Ryan. “Nice to meet you. You staying long?” Josh reaches down the side of the sofa and pulls out his coat. He slips it on, the waft of his aftershave whooshing over me. Ryan’s cheeks redden some more, but I can’t work out whether it’s embarrassment or anger. “Um, I’m not sure. Depends on Lee.” “Stay as long as you like, mate.” Like forever. “And Josh? Hurry up and piss off out of here. I’ll see you at work on Monday.” He can’t leave quick enough for me, and it seems like he’s moving in slow motion, all languid movements and timewasting. “All right, all right! Jesus!” Josh winks at Ryan. “You just hope he doesn’t treat you like this. Nice meeting you. Safe journey home if I don’t see you before you leave.” He holds out a hand for

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Ryan to shake then leaves the room as though walking through glue, hand held up in farewell. His footsteps recede down the hallway, and the front door closes. Relief spreads through me, and I look at Ryan, big smile on my face, and launch a throw cushion at him. “You thought he was my bloke, didn’t you?” Ryan blushes again. “No, not at all. Don’t know what you’re on about.” “You did, didn’t you? Aww, shit.” I get up and plunk down beside Ryan, giving him a serious look to let him know it’s all right, that I’d have felt the same in his shoes. Who can blame him when he hasn’t a clue how I still feel? It’s time I opened up. Said shit I’ve kept quiet for too long. “I haven’t been with anyone other than you, you know.” His eyes widen. “Um, really? How come?” He’s doing it again, asking me a question that means another one entirely, and I don’t blame him. He’s as bad as me, unsure whether to push me for a concrete answer or let me do the running. Time to bite the bullet. “Because…well, I needed to find myself, didn’t I? Told you that when I left. Couldn’t do that with

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a man in my life, but now? Yeah, I think I’m ready to start again.” “Good for you. Someone nice?” I hold back laughter. He must know it’s him. Must realise I know he knows too. Isn’t it obvious, even though I haven’t said anything? Doesn’t he feel it like I do inside? Instead of putting his mind at rest, I play the same game as him. “Yup.” And regret it. Ryan turns to stare at the Monet, his frown and pained expression telling me the game needs to stop right now. “You,” I say, nudging him in the ribs. “If you’ll still have me.” God, here we go. Here comes the kicker. He turns back to me, eyes wide, his mouth dropping open. Oh, shit. He’s changed his mind. Got someone else. Fuck it, I’m going to push my luck. I lean forward, my nose bumping against his, and smooth my hand up his chest, his coat fabric cold beneath my palm. I want him, need him so badly, the years of being apart snapping away like they have never been. I kiss him, hoping he doesn’t pull away. That fire I felt years ago returns, burning, searing every part of me

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until I can’t get enough of him. I can’t imagine how I managed the past four years without him by my side. I undo Ryan’s coat, and he shirks out of it, his movements jerky, because fuck, I’m not taking my mouth from his. I kiss him harder, breaths shunting out of my nose, my heart beating so fast I think it’ll burst, and my cock, fuck, it’s hard. Reluctantly I break away, needing to move on, take this to the next level. I straddle his thighs and slide my hands beneath his Tshirt, fingers gliding up his belly and back down again. His cock presses against mine, and I’m over the damn moon we’re here like this, wanting one another, wanting the same thing. I stare into his eyes and lower his zipper, asking silently if he’s sure this is what he wants. His eyes tell me we’re on the same page, and I free his cock, the softness of the skin there sending a thrill throughout my body. Standing, I pull Ryan upright, communicating with my gaze that I want him undressed and undressed now. We shed our clothing, a frantic time of fumbled undressing, the smell of need permeating the air, and move together, chests and cocks touching. I

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lay my hands all over him, frantic touches on his ass and waist before moving onto the next plane of skin. His balls brush mine, and a rush of desire rips through me. I want to come right now, spew it all over his belly, but hold off, instead crushing my mouth to his and exploring with my tongue. The hot wetness of our kiss spurns the desire to have his mouth on my cock, and I glide my hands up to his shoulders and gently press down. Ryan lowers, his lusty gaze on my face for a second before he kneels and takes me into his mouth. Jesus Christ, the heat of it! I want to come so badly it hurts. I rest my hands on his head, setting the pace so I can control the urge to come. Ryan’s hands clutch my ass, kneading it in time with his mouth movements. The tip of my cock brushes the roof of Ryan’s mouth then touches the back of his throat. I groan, the sound cracked and foreign and nothing like the times I’ve groaned when fisting myself into coming. “Fuck! God, Ryan… Fuck!” Ryan sucks harder, faster, pulling up with delicious suction before plunging his head back

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down. My balls ache and my ass-hole puckers, the throb at the base of my cock telling me I’m in trouble. Images of Ryan tying me up flick through my mind, and the familiar tingle of orgasm threatens to overtake my control. “Ah! Wait!” I ease my cock out and kneel before him, summoning all my courage to tell him what I want. “This way. Please.” I lay on the floor on my back. Ryan crouches over me, sinking my cock back into his mouth, his finger tracing the soft ridge between my balls and ass-hole. My hips buck involuntarily, my cock going deep. “I want you to do something,” I whisper, desire giving me the guts to tell him. “Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Thought about it at night. Wondered…ah…if you’d be up for it.” Ryan pulls up on my cock—shit that feels good—and takes it from his mouth, turning to face me. “What is it?” “My belt. On my jeans.” Heat creeps into my face, but the words are out there now. I can’t take them back. Don’t want to. I push on. “Would you tie my wrists?”

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Ryan looks startled for a moment but scoots over to my jeans and pulls the belt from the loops. I hold my wrists up together, and Ryan wraps the belt around them, securing the buckle. The feel of the leather against my skin… God, I’m going to come soon. “Come here,” I say. “Give me your cock.” Ryan moves over me, back facing me, knees either side of my head. He lowers his cock into my mouth, and mine throbs, begging for the same attention. Ryan dips his head and sucks it with hard, unforgiving pulls. Our combined sucking sets my dick to throbbing harder, and I can’t hold back for much longer. Ryan widens in my mouth, grows, and his vein pulses against my tongue. A shot of cum speeds out of him, filling my mouth and coating my tongue, the taste hot and tangy. His groan fills my ears, and I work on, savouring the sensations of sucking and being sucked. A second shot of cum joins the first, and I swallow to make room for more. I can’t hold back now and give in, my spurt of cum coming so fast it widens my cock-hole. Fuck, this feels good. So fucking good. Ryan pours into me again, two jets in rapid

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succession, and he judders above me, his rhythm out of sync with his previous beat. He pulls up on my dick, lapping up the rest of my cum, his tongue flat against the shaft, his lips tight. He raises his ass, easing himself from between my lips, and lifts his head, my cock leaving his mouth with a soft plop. Breathless, I study Ryan as he moves to rest beside me, knotting his legs with mine. We pant, sweat dripping off us. I stare at the ceiling, waiting for my breathing to regulate. Ryan places a hand to his brow. He laughs, as though he can’t believe it, and I know damn well how he feels. “Fuck, that was good,” he says. “It was.” I turn to fully look at him. “Better than our first attempt.” “Yeah.” He laughs again. “Yeah.” We lay in silence for a while, and I watch Ryan, still unable to believe he’s here. Such a surreal feeling. His eyelids droop, and I think about how he got here, the long journey north. I smile. “Reckon it’s bedtime. I didn’t get a chance to ask. How did you get here? You passed your driving test without telling me?”

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Ryan yawns and sits up, undoing the belt. “No. I got lifts, then walked the last couple of miles.” Jesus Christ. “Shit, no wonder you’re half asleep. Come on.” Belt removed from my wrists, and us still naked, I lead him upstairs and climb into bed. Ryan gets in beside me and nestles his cheek on my chest, his leg draped over mine. It’s like he’s always done it, always been here, and I shake my head and smile at the way we just fit together like this. His breathing grows deep, and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep already. “Need you here,” I whisper, praying he answers that he needs to be here. He doesn’t respond, so I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes, my breathing pattern matching his.

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wake to an empty bed, sure for a minute that I

dreamed last night, that Ryan hadn’t arrived, but a divot in the pillow next to mine soothes my fears. Memories of the previous evening flood my head, and I smile, thinking Ryan must be in the bathroom. I snuggle beneath the covers and wait, savouring the images, remembering how it all felt. My eyes close, and I have to force myself not to fall back to sleep. I want to be awake when Ryan comes back in. Five minutes of waiting passes, and I sit up, my heart thrumming, thoughts of Ryan having left seeping into the edges of my mind. He wouldn’t just go, would he?

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I get out of bed and slip on my pair of joggers, worn and bobbled but an old favourite. Making my way downstairs, I contemplate how I’ll feel if he has gone. I’ll be crushed, I know that much, but…no, he’s here somewhere. I feel it. In the kitchen entrance, I stare through the glass in the back door. Ryan is outside, coffee cup held to his lips, steam from it billowing over his face. He’s put on the clothes he arrived in, crumpled from being on the living room floor all night, and he looks so vulnerable out there, so…fucking mine. He turns and spots me, comes inside. “Thought I’d dreamed it when I woke up to find you gone,” I say. “Couldn’t sleep. Always the same when I sleep somewhere other than my own bed. You all right?” He tilts his head, studying me. “Yeah. Shut the door, will you? Bloody cold!” I wink and walk into the kitchen, switching on the kettle. “You all right?” Ryan closes the door. “Yeah, thanks. Got anything planned for today?” I yawn, the remnants of sleep still clinging on. “I was going into the next town over to do the

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weekly shop—nothing exciting—but I think I’ve got enough to last the weekend if you’d rather not go.” Ryan shrugs. “I don’t mind either way. Whatever you want.” Is he all right? He seems pensive, worried about something. Fuck, I hope it isn’t us. I couldn’t stand that. I pour boiled water into a cup. “We could go to the pub for lunch. Give the villagers something to talk about.” I smile at him and return the kettle to its base, then hold up my hands, flapping my fingers against my thumbs to show him people gossip down the hill. Small place—it’s bound to happen. Ryan smiles and moves closer, propping his elbows on the worktop beside me. He stares out the window, that pensive look intensifying on his face. “Could do.” He pauses, then, “How long did it take you to get used to living up here?” I stir coffee and sugar into my cup, watching the liquid circle into a whirlpool. “About six months. It was quiet at first, but then again, that’s what I needed. Peace to think. Now, I don’t think I could go back to a town to live. Too many people wanting to know your business. All right, there are

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a few here who are the same, but for the most part they avoid me. Phobic, see. That has its uses.” I smile and sip my coffee. “Come on. Living room. Bloody nippy in here.” I lead the way into the living room and switch on the electric fire. By habit I put my coffee on the little table beside my recliner and go to sit down. Changing my mind at the last minute, I flop onto the sofa, looking up at Ryan. He frowns, and my stomach rolls over. Something’s really off. “You sure you’re all right?” Ryan nods and sits at the other end of the sofa. “Yeah, course I am.” He doesn’t sound certain, and my stomach bunches some more. “Any regrets?” “No. Fuck no! It’s just…” Oh, God. Don’t tell me something I don’t want to hear. “Just what?” I sit up, my face tightening, a wince in readiness for what he’s going to say. “Look, if you’ve got something to say, say it. Whatever’s worrying you, we’ll sort it out. You forget I know you. Know when something’s bugging your ass. Some come on. Out with it.” I don’t want to hear it, do I? Don’t want him telling me he does have regrets, wishes he’d never come here. Fuck!

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He swallows. “Your mum…” I frown. Mum? What the fuck has she got to do with this? “What about her?” Ryan stares at me as though he has a massive weight that needs lifting. I’d expected something entirely different to come out of his mouth, and him mentioning Mum… What the hell’s going on? His eyes dart from side to side for a moment. “I don’t know how to say this or how you’ll take it, and I’m only bringing a message because I think you have a right to know. She’s, uh, she’s dead.” What? My mouth opens and closes, the shock of what he’s said a stinging slap despite me saying I wanted nothing more to do with her. For something to do I reach for my coffee and take a gulp, staring at the doorway. Do I give a shit? Really? I mean, she didn’t give a toss about me, so why should I give one about her? I’ve managed the past four years by myself, no problems without her in my life, so why should her death affect me? It doesn’t, does it? “Right, and why did I need to know this? You know how I feel about her.” I glance at him then look away, unable to stand seeing his tormented

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features. Bringing this news has done that to him. Him knowing me has caused him this pain. I have the urge to explain. “It wasn’t just her reaction when we were younger. She’s always tried to manipulate me, treated me like I had to do what she wanted or suffer the consequences. It was never simple, my life. She was slap happy; you saw the bruises enough times to know that. Best thing I ever did coming here.” Am I trying to justify my leaving, is that it? Telling Ryan about my old dear so he’ll understand my need to live by myself all this time? Probably. So why do I feel as though I’ve been tripped over and lay facedown in the dirt? Why do I feel her death matters, when my life never mattered to her? Anger boils up inside me, and I have a hard time suppressing it. “I’m sorry. Look, I know how you feel, but it isn’t like you think. She left two notes. One for whoever found her, and one for you.” Notes? Fucking notes? I laugh, a bitter, twisted sound that’s alien to me, a laugh I’ve never laughed before. “Ah, she was still on form right until the end, then. Manipulating people to do

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what she wanted. Come on then, what did the note say? And who found her? And how the fuck did you get to hear about it?” And what do I bloody care? “May as well hear the whole sordid tale.” “Uh, she asked that the police not come and inform you that she’d gone—that one of your friends had to do it. Me, actually, though no one else offered anyway. Her next door neighbour heard the…noise and went to check on her. They apparently had each other’s house keys. And she knew someone who knew me—knew me and you had been friends as kids. And, uh, she left you some money. It’s in my bag.” Left me some fucking money? Like I’d want it. Like I’d touch anything she left to me. It’d be stained with her evil-assed taint. “Don’t want it.” I stand, unable to sit any longer, and take my coffee to the window. I stare out at the village that has never accepted me, the houses like those on a Monopoly board, tiny homes to people who have no more compassion or tolerance than my old dear. Ryan’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts. “Didn’t think you would, but I brought it anyway.”

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I sigh and sip my drink. “Suppose you’re going to tell me she died in her sleep, all peaceful, no suffering. Not what I wished for her, I can tell you. And yeah, I sound a bastard, but you weren’t brought up by her. You—” “Hey!” Ryan gets up and stands beside me, his hand on my arm. “I know all this, don’t I? No need to explain it to me. I understand, all right? I only came because if I didn’t tell you, you’ve got to admit you’d wonder why. It’s one of those situations where I can’t do right for doing wrong, but that’s okay. I expected that.” Fuck, I feel bad. It isn’t his problem, and he’s right, he did need to come and tell me. Finding out from someone else…no, that wouldn’t have worked. I nod. “Sorry. Not your fault. It’s just…when I think of her, all the bad comes back, know what I mean? Like it was all happening again, except I see it in my head. But I feel it inside. Still fucking feel it, as if it was fresh. God!” I sniff then sip my coffee again. Much as I’ve said in the past I don’t care, I must do, because part of me wants to know how she went, what she died of. “So how was it? How did she go?”

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Ryan hikes in a deep breath. “She shot herself.” I whip my head around to face Ryan, shocked, yet I almost laugh. I mean, come on! Mum killing herself? A woman who has always prided herself in being Christian and pious has killed herself? Gone against God and all the childhood Bible teachings and committed one of the worst sins? She can’t have. Not Mum. No. “What? My old dear killed herself?” I let the laugh out. “How the hell did she get hold of a gun? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Mum with a gun? I don’t fucking believe it.” Ryan squeezes my arm, shakes his head, and stays quiet for a moment. He swallows, then, “D’you want the money and the note?” Do I fuck! “No. Reckon she’ll have written a load of bollocks about what a disappointment I was. I already know that, so what’s the point in reminding myself? And as for the money… Give it to charity or something.” “But it’s twenty grand, Lee. I shit myself bringing it all this way. It’s in cash. Her neighbour got it and the notes out of the house before the police arrived.”

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I narrow my eyes. “Doesn’t matter how much it is. Don’t you see? Anything from her is tainted. Even me. I can’t even bring myself to forgive, can I?” I sigh and leave the window, the truth of my last sentence driving a deep spike into my gut. I can’t forgive. Can’t even see her as a human being, struggling to live her life the right way for her, believing things she was taught and using them in her daily existence. If she was taught being gay is wrong, taught not to spare the rod and risk spoiling the child, wasn’t she just doing what she had to in order to survive? No, damn it, she had a mind of her own, was well able to differentiate between right and wrong. She was just nasty, raw-minded and bad and wrong. I feel suffocated by my thoughts, the pain inside me, and I say, “Look, I hate to do this to you, but uh, could you give me some space?” Much as I love Ryan, I don’t want Mum’s taint that lives in me to affect him. He doesn’t deserve to see me while I get all my anger out and come to terms with how I feel. “Sure. I’ll, uh… Well, I’ll go back home, all right? Give you a ring tomorrow or something.”

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Hell no. No, he can’t leave. I just need…a little while alone. I stop pacing and turn to face him. “No. I don’t mean… Not that far away. Don’t go back yet.” Relief fills his face. “Oh. Right. Uh, okay. I’ll go into the village for a bit then, yeah?” I nod and stare down at my hands. My knuckles whiten as I grip my cup. “Yeah. Only for a bit, though. I’ll ring you. Come and meet you after I’ve had a think.” I look at him, see the pain in his eyes and know he’s hurting for me. “All right. I’ll, um, go and freshen up, then.” Ryan leaves the room. His footsteps pad in the hallway, telling me he’s gone into the kitchen for his bag. I feel bad that I can’t have him here right now, can’t do this with him by my side, but my head’s so damn full I worry what’ll come out of my mouth if he stays. I might get angry, say stuff I don’t mean, and he might take it the wrong way. Like I don’t care for him, when I do. I fucking do. He passes the living room door, head down, and plods upstairs, each step creaking with his tread. The shower goes on, and I walk into the kitchen, the sound of the water hitting the tub above

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louder in here. I stare out the window, hearing the sounds of Ryan in the bathroom yet not; they’re so far away, my thoughts louder and more persistent, shouting to be heard. But I don’t want to hear them, not yet. Just wait until Ryan’s gone. A few more minutes. I continue to stare outside, seeing nothing but images from my childhood, Mum bearing down on me, Mum’s teeth bared, Mum Mum Mum… I clench my jaw and sense Ryan behind me. “I’ll, uh, leave these here.” He places two envelopes on the worktop. “Just in case you—” “All right. Thanks.” I carry on staring out the window. Just go, mate. Please, just go so I can…do what? Rant, scream…cry? “Um, I’ll be off then. You, uh, you take care, okay?” I nod, barely holding it together. “Will do.” The shift of his feet as he walks away tears me apart and eases my mind at the same time. I’m doing this for his sake. I never really grieved Dad’s death, can’t imagine I want to grieve Mum’s, but it’s best Ryan’s not here if everything comes spilling out, isn’t it? Yeah, it is.

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I pick up the envelopes—she touched them, they’re tainted—and also my phone. I go to the front door and open it, leaving it ajar. Turning, I walk upstairs and wonder if I’m just imagining Mum’s touch seeping into me from the envelopes. That kind of shit isn’t possible, but no matter how I try and shrug it off the feeling remains. She wrote on the envelopes, wrote the note inside one of them, when she lived and breathed and still hated me enough to kill herself and leave me a few words telling me how awful I am. Yeah, she wrote that, I’d bet on it. No way would she ever admit to being sorry. Not her. In my room I get on the bed and lay on my side, the curtains keeping the daylight at bay. I glance at the envelopes and make out my name on the fronts, so if I do decide to read the note I should be able to manage it well enough in this light. But do I want to open it? Do I want to read what she’s said, more vitriol to add to all the rest in my mind, stored there despite my promise to get rid of it all, every last scrap. I stare at the envelopes for a while, mind spinning with memories from childhood. All the

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times Mum hated on me, treated me badly, and I let them flicker on, suffering through them one last time before I cast them out for good. Tears come, and I let them fall unchecked, the relief to actually sob for the kid I was a big release. Feelings and emotions swirl along with the images, and I allow them to swamp me, giving myself up to the past and everything in it. When the last image fades away, I struggle to recall good times with Mum, and not many come. Even when Dad lived with us she was stern and proper, and I can’t think what he ever saw in her. Did she ever laugh? Was she ever carefree and young, so in love with Dad she felt the same as I do about Ryan? I can’t imagine it, can’t for the life of me see her as anything but what I remember, and I’m saddened by the fact that if she was once vibrant and alive with goodness it got snuffed out along the way, turning her into a bitter older woman. I sigh and rip open the note, steeling myself for what she’d written, and tell myself before opening the folded paper that this is the last time I’ll allow her to hurt me.

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dry my eyes after reading the note, mixed

emotions churning my gut and mind. Mum had returned to religion, then, after I left. Maybe she thought God was the only being out there who understood her, the only one who would give the answers she sought. I mean, she was the type who would claim to hear God’s words in her mind when really they were her own. She’d manipulate what He said to suit her own needs. Then again, she’d mentioned guilt, among other things, so maybe she had seen the light after all, realised that although I wasn’t the kid she’d always wanted I

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was still her kid. Doesn’t excuse her behaviour toward me, the way she treated me, but shit, I can’t keep chasing different scenarios around in my head to come up with answers. I just need to move on. She’s gone, I can’t talk to her about how she felt at the end, and whatever I would have asked her will just have to wait until I die—if there is such a thing as the afterlife, that is. Her funeral comes to mind. Has it been taken care of already? There’s only me left, so it stands to reason I’ll have to sort something out. Despite everything, I can’t just leave it to someone else. Wouldn’t be right, would it? No, I’ll have to get on with this and get through it as best I can. But what about the gun? Will her funeral be delayed by the police investigating? This is the kind of thing I need to find out. And I sound selfish as hell, but I’d rather not. Still, if I do one more thing for her it’ll be this. Maybe she’ll see from wherever she is I’m not such a bad kid after all. The last tear falls—or the last one I’m going to allow for now, anyway—and I shift my knees up, curling myself into a ball. I pick up my phone and text Ryan.

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HER FUNERAL BEEN ARRANGED YET? His response comes back fast. He’s been waiting for me, then. NO. THERE’S AN ENQUIRY BECAUSE OF THE GUN. Right. So there’s a lot to get through before I can lay her to rest and put the past firmly behind me. I suddenly feel alone, lost and vulnerable, and I think of Ryan in the village, wandering around, waiting for my response. I’m ready for him to return now. Ready to push forward with this shit and—I just want him here, simple as that. I text him again: NEED YOU. COME BACK. His reply comes back fast again—God I love him—and I settle down to wait, more content now I know he’s on his way back. I estimate the time it will take him to walk from the village and up the hill. Maybe twenty minutes, ten if he jogs. I stare at the envelope, one corner of the note sticking out of the opening, and I liken it to what’s going on with me. That note, Mum in my mind, is nearly out of sight, and that one corner resembles what lies ahead, what’s left to be done before I can shut her off completely. I close my eyes with the worry that my mind will show me more

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images, but there’s nothing there. Nothing but a black canvas. I think of my future and what pictures I can paint on it, what new memories I can burn into my brain. Ryan will feature, I know that much, but whether that means a longdistance relationship or not I have no idea. It’s something we should talk about, something I should bring up, because I can’t keep holding back on him. It isn’t fair or right. A soft knock comes from downstairs, and I smile at the sound of the front door creaking open then closing. His footsteps go through the rooms before they thump on the stairs like he’s taking two at a time. Out the corner of my eye I see him standing in the doorway, the scent of outdoors tinged with Ryan’s unique smell wafting over me. I stare at the wall, unable to look at him yet in case it sets me off crying again. “Uh, you all right?” he asks. “Yeah. I am now. You?” Ryan moves toward the bed and sits on the edge. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Silence takes over the room save for our breathing, and I think on what I should say to

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him. How to explain my feelings. After a few moments I begin, opting to just get it over with and see how he reacts to what I have to say. “Haven’t been crying for her.” I fist my hands beneath my chin. “Cried for the kid I was. For how different things could have been if she wasn’t the way she was. Her letter…” I pause for a beat, then, “She killed herself out of guilt. For pushing me away. Took to going to church after I left, so she said. Made her see a few things. S’pose the guilt got to her in the end. Funny, because I heard the Bible didn’t tolerate the likes of us.” I laugh. Can’t help myself. The irony of Mum turning her back on what she’d been taught…too late, too damn late. “Maybe it was the Christian shit in there that got to her. Who knows? Who fucking cares? It doesn’t rub out all the things she did while I grew up. Doesn’t make anything better.” I blink, and a damn tear falls down my nose. Shit, I didn’t want to cry anymore, don’t want this…this horrible emotional roller coaster. “Wants me to have the money to make up for all the crap she put me through. Said I should spend it to bring me some happiness. That she hadn’t given me much of that.”

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Isn’t that the damn truth? But money won’t make it right. Money won’t dissolve my feelings. When Ryan first told me about the cash, I didn’t want it, but now, after reading that note? I’m not sure if she isn’t right. Could I spend it knowing it was hers? Doesn’t she owe me, like she said? I ask, “What would you do?” Ryan holds out his hand, and I take it, his touch warming not only my skin but inside me. “I don’t know. I really don’t. It’s something you’ve got to decide. If you think you deserve it, then take it, but if you’d feel sick spending it, then don’t. You’ve got enough to live on. You don’t need it. So what does it matter what you do with it?” He’s right. It doesn’t matter either way. “Thought the same.” I squeeze his hand. “Sorry about shutting you out.” “It’s all right. Nothing to worry about.” He pauses for a little while, as though he has something to say but isn’t sure whether to. But he does. “Uh, you going back to sort out the funeral?” I sigh. “S’pose I should. Make sure she’s really dead.” I chuckle to soften the words.

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“Want me to go with you?” I nod, grateful he wants to support me, help me through this. “If you wouldn’t mind.” I look at him. “She mentioned you. In the letter.” Ryan frowns. “Did she?” Mum had left me one last lie, one last bite at my nerves. “Yeah, said she’d always liked you, and if I couldn’t bring myself to like girls, she’d have preferred us two to get together rather than me pick someone else and be unhappy. She always did have to spoil her rare nice times with a barbed comment.” She must have known I wouldn’t believe what she’d said. She’d been nothing short of evil toward Ryan that last night, and prior to that she’d made it quite clear she disliked ‘his kind’. She’d barely tolerated him as a kid. Lies right until the end. But it wouldn’t hurt to tell myself otherwise, would it? To believe she meant what she’d said? “Still, after all these years I finally got her approval on something.” And how did I feel about that? “I hate to admit it, but it means a lot, you know? I mean, growing up like I did, I just wanted her to love me like your mum loves you. Just wanted to do something

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she’d be proud of. And I s’pose her approving of you, despite you being a bloke, is as close as I’m going to get.” “So, uh, d’you think you’re going to be all right?” “Yeah, once I get a hug from you.” **** The weekend ends all too quickly. Sunday morning saw us eating a cooked breakfast and making our way down the hill toward Josh and Sue’s. I store my car in their garage, and we’re using it for the long drive back to the place I once called home. The car trundles along at a steady pace, and Ryan’s dozing in the passenger seat. I take the time to think about what’s to come and how I’ll deal with it. I’ve got no idea how long the police enquiry will take, but I’m guessing the money Mum left me will see me through if my boss at the candle factory doesn’t take kindly to me just bunking off like this. Yeah, I know Josh said he’d tell him why I’d gone and that business is slow at the moment—and the boss is a good sort—but

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still, I can’t help feeling I’m taking the piss out of his kind nature. Well, nothing I can do about that now. We’re halfway back, and someone’s got to sort out the old dear’s funeral, clear out the house, and put it up for sale. I think about that for a while. Mum never told me much to do with her finances, and for all I know she might have remortgaged and still owe a stack to the bank. No matter. I’ll deal with that when it comes to it and not before. If I think about things now I risk overloading myself with shit and breaking down from stress. Because it wouldn’t be from Mum’s death. No, never that. But what if it hits me unexpectedly? What if, despite the past four years and me telling myself I don’t care for her, I find, when it comes right down to the wire, that I do? What if those good memories resurface—more than I realised were there—and I miss the woman? What if I miss her and hate her in equal measure? What if…what if…what if… I blink and sigh, shutting out the persistent thoughts, turning to other, more pleasant ones. Outside Josh’s, before our journey began,

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something clicked inside and enabled me to say the words I should have said to Ryan a long time ago. Maybe saying them in front of Josh helped, I don’t know, but I said them all right. “I expect I’ll bring Ryan back with me to live.” Ryan had nodded, and his face lit up, eyes wide, smile firmly in place. God, it had been so easy, and I wonder if I was able to say it because the old dear has gone. She can’t disapprove now, and there’s no one else left for me to ask permission to live the life the way I want to live it. Once we’d got in the car, Ryan had asked, “You all right?” the way he always does, always has, and yeah, right at that moment I was all right. Blinding, I was blinding, and now I’m burning. Burning with love.

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INFERNO

INFERNO ~ Chapter One - Lee Mum’s funeral wasn’t what I’d expected. She’d obviously made lots of new friends once she joined the church, and they all crammed into the tiny place to pay their last respects. Some looked at me with scorn—and yeah, I’d expected that— but the others smiled, treated me as the grieving son. Giving me concerned looks of sympathy. And I felt a fraud, you know? Like I shouldn’t even have been there, because, let’s face it, I wished I hadn’t gone. No forgiveness had seeped into my heart while in that cold church. No compassion for her had allowed me to forget

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what had passed. I remember sitting in the front pew, my mind wandering, zoning out the vicar’s words. I pondered whether I’d go to Hell for wishing the damn service would hurry up already, then told myself that it wasn’t surprising I’d feel this way. If I was someone else looking at my life, I wouldn’t expect me to feel badly for her either. But then there’s that inner voice, isn’t there, the whispers saying you’re a bad person for feeling no remorse that your mother shot herself. And how is it that suicide is frowned upon by the church yet the people who gathered to say goodbye glossed over it as though she’d died of a heart attack or something more…acceptable. Funny that. Still, I’m at the graveside now, staring down into a hole with her coffin settled at the bottom. The green fake grass covering the crumbly mud around the edges reminds me of the stuff they put in butcher shop windows, the produce neatly packaged on top to give us the impression the meat is fresh from the farm. But she isn’t fresh. It’s been a month since Ryan and me arrived back home—or the place I grew up anyway; hardly

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home, was it?—and her body was finally released a week ago. We made all the necessary arrangements, and today couldn’t come quick enough for me. There I go again, total bastard. But it’s true, and I’m sick of lying to myself. Sick of smiling and pretending she was a great mum when…she wasn’t. Once today is over, that part of my life is gone, wiped from my mind. No more trips back to childhood—none where she features anyway. No more memories of a sour woman who hated everything about me. Despite the bullshit she wrote in her final note, I know she lied right until the end. The vicar drones on, his voice a succession of mumbles I don’t care to hear. Probably intoning what a good person she was and how He has taken her to His bosom. Reckon she’s gone to Hell myself, but there you go. Weird to think of her in that box. I mean, it looks smaller than she was. Or maybe she just seemed larger than life because her personality was so in-your-face. I don’t know, but when I walk away from here, that’s it, and I mean that. I can’t keep carrying the burden of “What if…” and

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“If only I…” and all the other crap that’s been floating around in my head. The vicar stops talking, and I continue to stare into the hole, soon to be filled with mud, keeping her in its cold, damp arms for eternity. Feet shuffle on the grass. People clear their throats. A couple of sniffles punctuate the air. Ryan nudges my side, and I look up to see his eyebrows raised and head tilted. “What?” I whisper. He smiles gently. “You need to… The mud. The rose.” Ah, we’d discussed doing this, me acting like the dutiful son because people would expect it. I’d argued the toss, told Ryan if I didn’t feel comfortable I shouldn’t have to do it, but he talked me around. He’s good at doing that. I turn away from him and eye the gathering. Expectant faces with watery eyes stare at me. One woman—the next door neighbour who found Mum— whittles a soggy handkerchief between gnarled fingers and gives me a wan smile. I feel sorry for the old dear. She hasn’t got a clue who she made friends with, what Mum

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was really like. I offer a smile back and nod before stooping to take a handful of dirt in my fist. It’s cool, damp, real and wretched, and I toss it into the hole. It lands on the polished beech, on the engraved silver plaque, with a resounding crack. Her name is obscured, like the mud has erased her, taken her away, yet she still resides within me. Someone else throws earth into the hole, and I stare at the clods and small nodules marring the pristine wooden surface. Bit like what she did to me, right? Ruined me with her ugliness. I flex my fingers then take the white rose Ryan hands me. I gave her flowers once. Remember it well. I must have been about seven, sweaty and tousle-haired from running around at the park, and a smattering of buttercups caught my attention. I’d upset Mum the day before. Broke one of her special vases—the one she said she used to put flowers in, when your father could be bothered to buy them—and man, she’d tanned my arse for that. I stared at the buttercups, thought of the vase, and went down on my knees to pick a bunch. Some stems long, some so short I’d only

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really picked the actual flower, but a bunch just the same. I left the park without telling my friends I was going and ran full tilt along the pathways that led home. I burst through the front door, breathless, and pelted into the living room. Mum sat on the sofa, hands cradling her temples, cheeks wet with tears. I stepped closer, the excitement of bringing her flowers suddenly gone, and she looked up at me with the red-rimmed eyes I’d come to expect. Too many rows with Dad. Too much pressure. Too much of a shitty life, as she constantly put it. I kneeled in front of her, my bedraggled offering held out, and she stared from them to me as though I’d offered her a handful of shit. “What the hell do you call those?” she said, eyes narrowed. “Flowers. I picked them for you.” I held them tighter. “Flowers? More like weeds.” She pursed her lips then said, “Besides, I don’t have a vase to put them in now, do I? Because you broke it.” Shit, those tears burned my damn eyes, and I lowered my fist to my lap and stared at the

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carpet. I never could do anything right. Never could make her smile. Now, I toss the rose onto her coffin and wonder, if she really is up there watching, whether she read my memories and wished she’d never shunned my little bunch of flowers. Whether that rose there, in full bloom, complete with thorns on the stem, is more to her liking. She was a bitch through and through. She was, yet still I stand here pretending her death doesn’t matter and that she didn’t deserve a good son like me. Still I wish she’d loved me like she should have. Brushed my hair back from my forehead when I got sick. Came into my room and soothed me, kissed me when I had bad dreams and told me everything would be all right. Ruffled my hair when I’d been good. Talked to me instead of whipping my arse when I’d been bad. But she hadn’t done any of those things. Not that I can remember, anyway—or have I blocked them out? Made her a complete ogre because that’s what fits my perception of her? She might have loved me once, before her and Dad went tits up and their marriage went out the window.

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Once. Yeah, she might have, but fucked if I can think of one instance right now. Are my eyes burning? Yeah, they are, and I turn from that damn hole and walk away, uncaring what people think of my departure. Who says I have to stay until everyone else is gone? Who says I have to grieve her just because she was my mother? I huff out a laugh. I’m kidding myself, I know that. It fucking hurts, if I’m honest. Hurts to say goodbye, to know that sour face isn’t going to screw up when she sees me, her views on who I am plain as day. Funny how I thought I could get through this without crying. Telling myself: Oh no, this day isn’t going to bother me. I’m over her, all right. I’m glad she’s gone. Fuck. Emotions—sometimes I bloody hate them. I stop walking and stare at the cloudless sky, the expanse so blue it hurts my eyes. A snappy breeze whips past—and if I was the fanciful sort I’d say that was her coming back to let me know she was still with me—and I have the absurd thought that she’d have loved this day.

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“The kind of day to put the washing on the line, Lee. Bring the pegs. Hand them to me while I hang the sheets, will you?” A lump expands in my throat. Shit. I didn’t want this crap to happen. Didn’t want to remember there were good times. I stuff my hands in my trouser pockets and grit my teeth. People are leaving—I see them from the corner of my eye—but no one approaches me. No point, really. They’ll be back at Mum’s house for the wake in a bit. I feel Ryan before I see him by my side. When he’s near I sense it. Goose bumps spring up on my arms, and I know he’s close, even without scenting his distinctive smell. “All right?” he asks, abreast of me, hands in pockets. I turn to face him. He looks uncomfortable in that suit and tie, like he’s in clothes so alien to him that they make him stiff, act uncharacteristically. “Not bad.” I stare at the sky again, squint to block out the sun. “S’pose we ought to head back to her house, then. Get this next bit over with.”

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Technically, the house doesn’t belong to me now. It sold pretty quickly, but the buyers won’t be moving in for another week or so. Tomorrow a removal company will arrive to take everything away. I told them they can do what they like with Mum’s stuff. I don’t want any of it. Not a damn thing. Last week while we packed it all up, I found a picture in her bedside drawer I can’t recall drawing. It was inside a book, folded and pressed between the pages. The white paper had yellowed with age, but the coloured crayon remained surprisingly bright. I’d drawn a pig in a farmyard— at least it looked like a pig anyway—and a farmer standing nearby, pitchfork in hand. Why had she kept it? Maybe it was my first school drawing, who knows? Maybe she’d had a heart after all. Who cares? “Come on, then.” Ryan gestures towards the row of parked cars along the wide path and strolls away, head bent low, one last sideward glance at the gaping hole. I follow, refusing to look at the ground’s open maw, refusing to let her get to me one last time. Once we’re in my car, Ryan eases out onto the

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path and drives through the graveyard. Marble markers stand in regimented rows like blackened teeth, others grey or white, and some ancient monuments made of stone bear no words, the weather having beaten them away. Comes to something when even the words on your stone no longer exist. I stare out the side window as we drive through town and soak up the familiar sights. The Ragged Sigh, a pub revamped after I left, dominates the corner of St. Mark’s Street, and I have the urge to go in there, sink a few, and only come out when I’m off my head. “Stop.” Ryan quickly glances over. “What?” “Go in there.” I point to the car park out front. “Lee…” Despite the tone of his voice telling me he doesn’t think this is a good idea, Ryan turns left and parks up. “Just for one. I don’t want to go back there.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door so it sits ajar. “Lee, you’ll have people waiting back at the house in about five minutes.” He looks at me,

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hand hovering over his seatbelt release button. “The old dear, the neighbour, she said she’d welcome people in.” Ryan sighs and pops the lock. “Yeah, but all the same, I’m not happy letting her deal with that on her own.” “She wants to. She said it’d make her feel useful. Take her mind off things.” I study the swinging pub sign. “Just for one. I’m not ready to face them. To talk about her as though she was the greatest thing. I just…I can’t…” “All right. Come on. But only for one, mind.” I get out of the car and shut the door, waiting for Ryan to lock up. I give the pub a once over while I wait. The Ragged Sigh. Who the fuck thinks of names like that? It used to be called The King’s Arms, quite a dive to be honest, but I’m curious as to whether the revamp has altered the clientele. That bunch of wankers who used to jeer at me, Trevor’s cronies, drank in here once upon a time. Wonder if they still do? I shrug and walk towards the double mahogany doors, Ryan a quiet anchor by my side. We enter, and right away I see it isn’t the place I remember. All

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wooden floors and swanky mirrors now, modern leather sofas and dark wood tables. Contemporary art fills the walls—splotches of colour, the images nothing discernable—and a huge flat-screen TV hangs across the far right corner, the sports channel flickering from a football game to commentators discussing the match. That hasn’t changed, then. At the bar, I order two pints of Guinness from a barmaid who looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. Her lethargic movements and slow smile prove she’s here to only earn a wage and nothing more. She looks tired, downtrodden, and I feel sorry for her to the degree I almost open my mouth and offer her the money Mum left me. I stop myself, though. I mean, she’d think I was mental or pulling her leg, and some people take offence if they think you think they’re down and out. We sit on wooden chairs in the corner farthest from the TV, and Ryan sips slowly, legs apart, an arm draped over one leg, the elbow if his other arm propped on the table. I lean back, put my foot on the vertical strut beneath the table, and look around at the changes. Something to do,

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isn’t it? Something to take my mind off of— “Things’ll get better, you know.” Ryan stares at the TV to our right. “And it doesn’t make you weak if you let yourself to get upset. She was your mum, when all is said and done. Gotta sting a bit, you know?” I nod, knowing he can’t see me, but he’ll sense it. He always does. Just like what he said there— always knows what to say as though he’s read my thoughts. “Yeah. But I’ve got to move on after today. Can’t keep dragging all this internal shit around with me, know what I mean?” I gulp my Guinness. “Yep.” He pauses, then, “People will be gone by dinnertime. Then we can go back to mine. I’ve still got a few things that need boxing up ready to take back to yours, but after that, our lives are ours.” He turns to me and smiles. “Be nice won’t it?” “Yep. Big change for me, moving to Biddingford, being out there in the middle of nowhere, but fuck it, we’ll be together, so that’s all right.” Ryan smiles and nods, as if confirming it to himself more than anything.

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“Josh’ll show you the ropes at work.” Ryan nods, sips again, and I think about the guy who took me in when I arrived at Biddingford with no place to go. Nice fella, married to Sue, and they have two kids who make me smile. He’d sorted a job for Ryan at the candle factory we work at. Nothing fancy, but it brings in the money, and we’ll be in different departments, so there’s no risk of us getting on each other’s nerves, what with working and living together. “Dad reckons it’ll be the making of me,” Ryan says, scratching his cheek. “It probably will be. I mean, you’ve been living on your own for a good while now, but actually being away from your parents…well, it makes you self-sufficient. Free.” “Yeah.” Times like this I wish my dad was here, but he isn’t, long dead from his car accident now, so I just have to suck it up and get on with life. “We’ll be all right, won’t we?” “Course we will. Don’t see why not.” He stares at the door, the creak of it opening cutting through the whiny voice on the TV. Nodding in

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the door’s direction, he says, “Probably best if we drink up.” I turn my head. Trevor’s friends have walked in and stand at the bar ordering drinks. The night I left this town, Trevor threatened he’d do me in if I ever came back, and I didn’t doubt him. He would if he was here to do it, too, but he’s banged up awaiting trial for using the gun he pointed at me on some other poor bastard. My stomach lurches, and I curse quietly, pissed off that even though I’m an adult, these blokes can affect me like they did at school. Taunted me for years, they have, under Trevor’s direction. It might be a different story now Trevor isn’t here to goad them on, but I don’t really want to hang about to find out. We rise and walk toward the door, Ryan ahead of me with his head held high, me with mine bowed, peering at them out the corner of my eye. One of them swivels to watch who’s leaving and leans on the bar, pointing at us, head nodding. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I don’t stop, just keep walking, but he’s pushed himself off the bar and walks towards me like he owns the place. Doug Peters. Fucking cock.

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“Oi, I said, what the fuck are you doing here?” He grips my wrist and brings me to a stop. I stare at him, wishing I had the guts to punch that smug smile off his fucking face and walk out, proud and self-confident. I’ve changed since living in Biddingford, but evidently not that much. One look at his steely grey eyes and I’m back in the playground.

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INFERNO ~ Chapter Two - Ryan Leave it, Doug,” Ryan said, stepping from the

“

door to stand beside Lee. “He’s back to bury his mum today, all right?” Doug looked from Lee to Ryan, sneer firmly in place. “Couldn’t give a fuck what he’s doing here. Trev told him not to come back.” Who the fuck does this wanker think he is? “Well, Trevor’s not here, is he?” Ryan’s jaw muscles worked—tic-tic-tic—and he bunched his fists, wanting nothing more than to punch Doug’s fucking lights out. Doug let go of Lee’s wrist and squared up to

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Ryan. “But while Trev’s away, I’m to look after his business, know what I mean?” “Business?” Ryan chuckled. “If you mean roughing people up and threatening them, scaring them, you’re not doing a very good job. Come to think of it, neither did Trevor.” Doug’s face turned red, and he puffed out his chest, swaying slightly as if to show Ryan had pissed him off and he meant business. “You dissing Trevor?” What an absolute cock… Ryan eyed the other men, who watched the to-and-fro with amusement, and judged they weren’t about to step in and get involved. “And if I am?” Doug jerked his torso forward, his face inches from Ryan’s. “I’ll fucking have you.” “Really? When’s that then?” Adrenaline rushed through Ryan. He’d listened to the shit coming out of these men’s mouths for years, had brushed it off as immaturity, but now Doug was getting on his nerves. He didn’t usually get riled, preferring to ignore bigots and people who were all mouth and no trousers, but—

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Lee’s fist arced up and connected with Doug’s jaw, sending the man sprawling backward into his mates. Ryan stared wide-eyed as Lee lunged forward, cracking another blow in Doug’s face and a third in his gut. Blood spurted from Doug’s nose, and the barmaid shrieked, other patrons scraping their barstools and moving away to the farthest wall. Lee had pent-up aggression inside him, spilling out today of all days, and Ryan moved to get between the two men, conscious that Lee might go overboard. Christ, he’s always took it. Took what they said and did. Fuck me! Lee punched Doug again, this time in the bollocks. Doug doubled over, a grunt of pain whooshing out of him, and clutched his crotch. His friends eased away, nursing their beers from a discreet distance so it appeared they had nothing to do with the fight. Nice mates… Ryan positioned himself between Lee and Doug. “That’s enough!” Doug stood upright, grappling with Ryan to get at Lee. “Enough? Oh, I haven’t even fucking started.”

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Lee nudged Ryan’s arm to get him to move, but Ryan held his ground. “Lee, back off,” he said, shifting to shield Doug, who pushed and shoved Ryan’s chest. “Get the fuck out.” An angry sigh blew over Ryan’s shoulder, and then Lee was gone, leaving Ryan to hold Doug’s biceps in order to keep him in place. “Look, man, you shouldn’t have started on him. Not today,” Ryan said. “Get your fucking hands off me, you filthy faggot.” Doug stared at Ryan, hatred burning in his eyes. Ryan released him and took a step back, his hands up to let Doug know he wasn’t about to finish off what Lee began. “Call me what you want, doesn’t bother me, but we’ll be out of here come tomorrow, all right? And we won’t be back.” Doug narrowed his eyes, cheeks stained red, and rolled his shoulders. “You’d better fucking not. When Trevor hears about this…” He’ll have a job doing anything about it while he’s in the nick. “Yeah, well… It’s over, right?”

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Doug turned away and grabbed his pint, downing the liquid in one go. He slammed the glass on the bar top, beer wetting his top lip. “For now. But if I ever see you pair of queers here again I’ll—” “Yeah. Whatever.” Ryan turned away, heart hammering despite not being frightened, and pushed the door open. Outside, he scanned the car park for Lee, who stood leaning his arse on the passenger door of Ryan’s car. Tummy flipping over at the sight of him, Ryan strode across the asphalt, wondering how to broach the subject of what happened. It wasn’t just a case of talking about it like some bar brawl. No, it went deeper than that. Lee’s emotions were tightly sprung, and only a few of them had been released back there. If Ryan didn’t get him to talk, to let go of what troubled him, Lee might run into more trouble in the future. Problem is, he’s like a closed book. Hides things away inside. Isn’t comfortable talking about this kind of crap. Ryan reached the car and unlocked it, getting into the driver’s seat and waiting for Lee to join

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him. Once he had, Ryan looked out the windshield, telling himself to come out with it, to ask Lee if he was okay. Lee beat him to it. “I’m fine. Now let’s get to this bloody wake.” Ryan grimaced. Right. That’s the way he’s playing it. Like he always does. Sweeping shit under the carpet. “You can’t keep going like this, you know.” Ryan inserted the key into the ignition. “Like what?” “You know what.” He looked at Lee, who scrubbed his chin with his palm. “Not talking about stuff. You’ll make yourself ill.” Turning the key, he revved the engine then pulled out of the car park. The traffic was light, so he didn’t need to overly concentrate on the road. Good job—his head swirled with worry over Lee’s state of mind. “I’m all right. I’ll be fine.” Lee stared out the side window, jaw clamped, rigid. Ryan indicated left and turned the corner, heading towards Lee’s old house. “So you say, but—” “He said he’d fucking have you. I didn’t like that.”

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Ah, so that’s what it was. “Shit, Lee. How come you can take that crap for years when it’s about yourself, but—” “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Yep, but I want you to say it. I want to hear it… “No.” “Stop messing about. I don’t have to spell it out.” Lee palmed his face. “Spell what out?” “Stop playing games!” He stared at Ryan. “I’m not!” Everything stilled for a beat then Ryan burst out laughing. Releasing the pressure, he didn’t know, but when Lee laughed too, relief loosened Ryan’s knotted shoulder muscles. “Look, Ryan. You want it straight, you’ve got it. I fucking love you, all right? And when he…when he said… Fuck.” He laughed again. “Just pack it in, yeah? You know why I went for him, you just wanted me to say it. Bloody sap.” Ryan smiled, turning into Lee’s old street and pulling up outside. He cut the engine and put the keys in his pocket. “Damn right I did. About time you smacked one of them too.” He stared at Lee,

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holding out his hand. Lee took it, and the familiar sense of belonging stole over him as it always did when they touched. “I love you, man.” “Yeah. I know.” “You’re supposed to say you love me too.” “Yeah, I know.” Ryan laughed hard then, head thrown back. Once he stopped, he said, “Ah, fuck you. Come on. Into the house.” **** Wakes were difficult at the best of times, but this one set Ryan on edge. Their earlier laugh in the car, the elevated feeling of euphoria, left as soon as they walked into the house. Lee looked uncomfortable, still and unbending, and he stayed away from the guests after the initial flurry of condolences had been made. Oh, he nodded, made all the right facial gestures, but he wasn’t himself. Not by a long shot. Ryan stood leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, Coke in hand, watching Lee tip whiskey down his throat—the second tumbler in the space of a few minutes. Stood to reason he’d need the

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crutch of alcohol, but Lee wasn’t a drinker and had never handled spirits too well. They made him maudlin—like he needed any extra help there. God, he loved him, wanted more than anything for everyone to get out and leave them in peace. Lee looked over once or twice, offered a wonky smile, and Ryan returned it, feeling like he hovered too much, worried too much. Later, once all the guests had gone, they’d cleared up the plates and glasses, wrapping them in newspaper and packing them away in cardboard boxes. Everything but the sofa and dining table and chairs had been moved to the garage last week, the house bare and uninviting for those who had gathered today. But hey, Lee hadn’t wanted the wake anywhere else, and Ryan doubted very much the guests were bothered about the lack of homeliness. Not on a day like today, anyway. They left the house, dropping the keys to the elderly neighbour, who promised to let the removal men in to do their job then hand the keys in to the estate agent. Lee had bought her flowers and chocolates, thanking her for her help and giving her a hug. With the final arrangements

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over and done with, Ryan drove them out of that street for the last time. Lee never looked back, never stared at the road he’d been brought up in, with eyes misty, or a wistful expression on his face. He stared ahead as though unmoved, and Ryan couldn’t blame him. Shit, he’d have left that house a long time ago, as soon as he’d hit sixteen. But I’m not like Lee. He had a reason for staying there long after he should have. Some sense of duty to his mother, I’ll bet, even though he’d never admit that. On the journey to Ryan’s flat—another place up in the air with half-filled cardboard boxes and suitcases—he thought about his own feelings for a bit. His parents had divorced, and man, that was a shock and a half. He had no reason to stick around now. His mum had gained a new lease of life, off out to the pub and meals with friends, and his dad had met someone new already. Yeah, there was the rumour he’d had Janet on the go for some time prior to leaving Ryan’s mum, but it didn’t matter now. Not really. What’s done is done. Can’t change the past, only learn from it.

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Ryan glanced at Lee to gauge whether he wanted to talk. It didn’t look like it, so, when on a stretch of straight road, he rested his hand on the other’s thigh and gave a slight squeeze. “I’m fine. Honestly.” Lee turned and smiled. “Let’s just get back to yours. Go to bed. And tomorrow we’re out of here.” “Thank fuck.” Ryan smiled and took the righthand turn into his street, coming to a stop outside his flat. “Though I love this place, my flat, I mean, there’s nothing here for me now. Gotta move on.” “Yeah.” Lee smiled and held up his hand for Ryan to take. “We’ll be all right once we get out of here. Told you before that some people in Biddingford are dodgy with me, but shit, they’ll get over it. Not like we’re living right under their noses. We should be cool up on the hill out of the way.” “I’ve never given much of a shit what other people thought, you know that. Come here.” Lee leaned across, and Ryan kissed him softly, wanting to be tender when Lee’s emotions were probably raw. He brought his hand up to cup his lover’s cheek, thumb stroking the beginnings of stubble. Lee opened his mouth, and

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Ryan dipped his tongue inside, tasting the whiskey. A small whimper left Lee, his hand rising to twine in Ryan’s hair, and Ryan’s heart twisted in sympathy for how Lee must be feeling. He wouldn’t want an open show of sympathy— hence Ryan avoiding the subject of the day in general—but that one whimper said a thousand words. Lee needed him, needed to forget everything in the midst of their kiss. It deepened, and Ryan’s cock stirred. As he had before, when he’d returned to Lee’s after giving him time to adjust to news of his mother’s death, Ryan was unsure how far to push. It was one thing for him to feel the need to lose himself in Lee, in their touches, the sensations those sweeping hands brought, but if Lee wasn’t ready… Lee broke away, his cheek against Ryan’s, and whispered, “I need you.” Brushing his nose to Lee’s, Ryan nodded and backed away, getting out of the car. With Lee out and on the other side, arms folded across the car roof, Ryan studied him for signs of emotional wear and tear. His eyes were bloodshot and deep lines scored the sides of his mouth, no doubt

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about that, but he looked as though he could do with pampering. Loving. They entered the flat, taking the stairs with a weary tread, the day having taken its toll on their bodies. But Ryan’s mind remained alert, and he ushered Lee inside his bedroom, guiding him to the bed and pressing him down onto it by his shoulders. Lee shirked off his jacket, undoing the black tie and throwing it to the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, tossing it across the room to land haphazardly, half in and half out of the laundry basket. He flopped back, arms above his head, and Ryan gazed down at him, his lover so open and trusting. Ryan’s heartbeat picked up speed, and he stood at the end of the bed. “Roll over, yeah?” he said. Ryan climbed onto the bed as Lee did as he’d asked. He took off his jacket and threw it to the floor, uncaring that it had cost an arm and a leg. He stared down at Lee’s muscled back, studying the jutting shoulder blades and knobbly spine. Reaching into the bedside drawer, he took out a bottle of oil and settled between Lee’s splayed

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legs. He flipped up the lid and drizzled oil across Lee’s back, dropping the bottle to the bed. After warming his hands, he placed them to Lee’s hot skin, smoothing the oil over his shoulders. Ryan kneaded, feeling the muscles loosen with every glide, every press of his fingers. “Feels good,” Lee said, voice muffled by the quilt. He rested one cheek on his folded hands and sighed. “You need it, man.” Ryan drew his hands down Lee’s back, thumbs either side of his spine, dipping beneath his trouser waistband. The contact hardened his cock, and he held off the urge for a fast and furious fuck. They needed to take it slow tonight, a total wind-down for Lee to ease back into normality. Ryan smoothed on, closing his eyes to better feel Lee’s skin, the rise and fall of his back planes, to hear his lover’s slowing breaths as all the tension drained away. “Better?” Ryan asked. “Yeah. Much.” Ryan’s cock strained against his boxers, but he didn’t want to stop to undress. Then again, the

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shape of Lee’s arse looked too appealing to ignore, what with the tightness of the trouser fabric across it. Easing his hands under Lee’s belly, Ryan fumbled with the button, Lee lifting slightly, and undid the zip. He pulled Lee’s trousers and boxers down his legs, taking off his shoes and socks and discarding them all in a pile on the floor. Back on the bed, Ryan poured more oil and gave Lee’s arse the attention it deserved. The rounded globes, soft yet firm beneath his hands, turned him on as he spread the cheeks and caught a glimpse of the shadowed valley there. Would they ever explore that side of sex? They hadn’t so far—hadn’t done anything too adventurous yet—but Ryan wasn’t sure if he was comfortable bringing the subject up. He didn’t even know if he would like to take Lee’s cock there—or whether Lee wanted Ryan inside him. His cheeks heated at the thought, and he slid his hands down Lee’s outer thighs, the skin changing from smooth softness to hair-covered rough. His palms tingled, so he resumed his attention on his lover’s arse—until Lee rolled over and presented him with the sight of his rigid

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cock. He reached up and unknotted Ryan’s tie, pulling it off and holding it up. “Tie my hands?” he asked. Ryan took the tie and bound Lee’s wrists, loose enough that he could free himself if he chose. Lee lay back and put his hands above his head and jerked his abdomen, clearly eager for Ryan to take him in hand again. Grabbing the oil bottle, Ryan poured a small amount into his hand and fisted Lee, drawing his grip down slowly. The oil added swiftness to the glide, and he took his oily hand from Lee and freed then clasped himself. He took Lee’s stiffness in his other hand and matched the up-and-down motions on both cocks, making eye contact with Lee. His eyes conveyed many things—love, adoration, and trust among a jumble of others. Ryan looked down at Lee’s legs and nodded, indicating that Lee close them when Ryan lifted one knee. He straddled Lee’s thighs, still pumping their cocks, and pushed out his hips. Letting go of himself, he pressed his length to Lee’s and grasped both cocks in two hands, massaging them together in slow, even strokes. Lee sucked

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in a breath and licked his lips. Ryan gritted his teeth, the burn of orgasm close—too close—and gazed at Lee through half-lidded eyes. “Faster?” he asked. Lee nodded, and his cock vein throbbed along with Ryan’s, the sensation powerful and heady. Ryan worked them faster, clasping them tighter. His balls gently slapped against Lee’s, heightening his desire. Lee bucked and closed his eyes, a strangled grunt leaving him with panted breaths. Ryan’s tummy somersaulted at the sight of him, Lee’s cheeks flushed with desire, his lips slightly parted. “Undo my shirt,” Ryan gasped, fighting to hold back his orgasm. Lee brought his joined hands up and raised his torso, fumbling with the buttons. “Lay back down.” He did, and Ryan arched over their cocks, watching his hands moving, turned on to such a degree he released a stuttered moan. Every twitch and throb of Lee’s cock matched his own, the sensations too much to take. Their cocks exploded together, cum shooting out and coating

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Ryan’s chest and belly. He pumped on, revelling in the waves of ecstasy as ripple after ripple undulated up and down his shaft and throughout his balls. Their scents combined, the aroma coaxing more cum from Ryan, and Lee’s body jolt and “Ah, fuck!” spurred a last rope of cum to leave Ryan. Lee’s cock spewed three quick jets at the same time he cried out, and he clenched his fists and teeth, riding out the pleasure. Spent and sweating, Ryan released them and lowered onto Lee, covering the other’s fists with his cupped hands. He bent his head for a long sweet kiss, the breaths dashing out of their nostrils indicating their quickened heartbeats. Tongues duelling, Ryan explored Lee’s mouth until his breathing regulated and his cock stopped throbbing. He snuggled by Lee’s side then, arm draped over his belly, leg hooked over his, holding him possessively close. Sleep called quietly, luring him in, and he closed his eyes, sated and exhausted, ready for their busy day tomorrow. The start of their new life together.

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settled in at the cabin like he’d always

been there, you know? I didn’t mind his things being in places that usually lay bare—in fact, I welcomed them. I’d wanted him for so long, and this…us as a couple. After we’d left his flat, Ryan bringing quite a few belongings with him, the car loaded up so we couldn’t see out the back window, we’d travelled to Biddingford for a fresh start. Yeah, I’d already done that by leaving the town I’d known all my life, but this time was different. I was free of all burdens, had the knowledge that I answered to no one but me from

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now on. Ryan’s excitement transferred to me. He’d never been away from home, and despite a tearful goodbye to his parents, he was raring to go. He also settled in at work well, and our routine slipped in without notice. We’re aware of one another’s moods from knowing each other a long time, and, well, we just get along. Always have. I can’t really remember a time when he wasn’t in my life, making everything better, making me laugh. His acute sense of knowing what to say and when to say it amazes me. Almost like he reads my thoughts, but I guess we’re so in tune he just picks up on every little thing that indicates whether I’m happy or sad, pissed off or melancholy. I’m the same with him. With a certain look from him I can tell what mood he’s in, what he’s trying to say without words. Three months have sped by—where the hell did they go? We haven’t talked about the money Mum left me or what we should do with it. I say we, because what’s mine is Ryan’s now, know what I mean? There he is on the other end of the

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sofa, gaze glued to the TV, and I wonder if he’s actually taking in what he’s watching or whether he’s thinking other things like me. “What’s on your mind,” he says; not a question but words that show he knows me inside and out. “Just thinking.” “About?” He turns from the TV to look at me, bringing his legs up under him and settling his back against the arm rest. “Maybe going somewhere nice. If you’re up for it.” I shrug. “Doubt the boss will give me time off yet. Not been there long enough, surely.” “There is that.” I pause and stretch out so my feet rest on his knees. He smoothes his hand up and down my shin, and I continue. “No harm in asking when’s the earliest you can take a holiday, is there. I know I had shit loads of time off to go back…to…but he’s a good sort. You never know.” “Yeah. Be nice.” I get up and go out into the hallway, stooping to pick up my boots. “Fancy a walk? I’m bored shitless.”

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Ryan swings his legs to the floor and looks out the window then back to the TV. “Could do. Going into the village for a pint?” I shake my head and pull my boots on. “Nah. Fancied going into the forest.” “What, in the dark?” Ryan smiles. His cheek dimples set my stomach to clenching—fucking love those dimples—and he stands, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. I take him in, loving the way his T-shirt rises and gives me a glimpse of his belly button and the line of hair going from there down beneath his waistband. What rests below that comes to mind, a cock I love the feel of in my hands, balls I cup and fondle as though they were made for my palm. “Yep, in the dark.” I brush the backs of my fingers down his cheek and press a quick kiss to his lips. “We could get up to all sorts out there…” He laughs and bends down, putting on his boots. “Get your coat on, man. I want to see what you’ve got planned.” Shirking into his, he zips it up and moves toward the front door, flicking on the external light.

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A shadow passes the glass, obscured because of the net curtain, but I saw it all right. Just a fleeting swoosh of movement, but no one should be out there at this time of night. I frown and hold up my hand. “Don’t open it yet. Saw someone out there.” I go into the living room, heart beating fast, and peer through the nets hanging at the window. Nothing’s out there except the expanse of grass, the tree-lined path that leads down the hill towards town, and the glittering lights of the village. Still, I’m a little uneasy and return to the hallway, stopping beside Ryan at the front door and shrugging on my jacket. “Nothing out there now, but I saw someone walk past the door.” “We’re not expecting anyone, are we?” Ryan’s brow furrows, and he turns the lock to open the door. “Are we ever? No fucker comes here except Josh.” Ryan swings the door open, and I step outside, glancing to the right where the shadow headed. The light illuminates the immediate

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area, but beyond that, darkness is thick and black. “Reckon we ought to abandon the walk?” Ryan asks. He looks at me, and I know he doesn’t want to go out there now—and not because he’s scared for himself either. He’d rather wait and see if anyone knocks on the door and deal with them then. “Yep, but I want to know who the fuck is out here.” I re-enter the cabin and stride to the kitchen, pulling open the drawer beside the sink. The torch we use when the power goes out sits inside, and I take it, switching it on as I walk back down the hall. “Back in a minute.” “Fuck going out there on your own, Lee!” I walk to the right, towards the edge of the circle of light. The front door closes with a soft snick, and Ryan’s footsteps shuffle the grass behind me. I stare into the pitch, unable to see anything beyond the swathe of torchlight, so pan the area with the beam. It picks up the grass, the arc of the hill ledge in the distance, and the stretch of starless sky but nothing more.

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Glancing to my left, I listen for movement other than ours while looking at the yellowed dots and squares—the lights of the village. Who the hell would come up here? Everyone knows everybody else in the village. No strangers have come to visit that I know of. Unless Josh is messing about? Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past him. Ryan arrives at my side, hands bunched, thick fists darkened by the night. “I can’t see anything. You sure you—” “Yep, I’m sure.” I lean close to whisper, “Reckon it’s Josh fucking about. Shh!” I take Ryan’s wrist then switch off the torch, turning back to check Josh isn’t standing on our doorstep with his usual stupid grin. He isn’t there, so I tug Ryan down the side of the cabin and around the back. The edges of our garden kind of blend onto the hilltop, so we shift along the rear of the house to the back door. It stands ajar, and my guts roll over. “Did you leave this open?” I whisper, looking at Ryan.

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Light from the kitchen shines through the window in the back door and highlights his fearful expression. He’s frowning, and his mouth is downturned as though he’s thinking back to whether or not we’d been out the back tonight. I hadn’t. “No.” “Shit.” Would Josh go this far with a joke? I don’t think so, and my instincts tell me something is off. Tangible fear comes off the pair of us, and I think about how we’ll deal with a stranger breaking in. Odd that they chose this place. I know it’s out of the way, but their escape route is limited to the path down the hill or the forest edging it. Stealing a TV and getting away quickly isn’t on the cards. So if someone is up here and it isn’t to steal, why are they here? “The light was off when we went out the front door just now.” Ryan swallows audibly. “Right.” Shit! Taking a deep breath, I step inside, the torch held out in front of me in case some bastard’s in

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here and I need to strike. Ryan’s right behind me, and he closes the door. I creep out of the kitchen and down the hallway, leaning against the wall opposite the stairs. Peering around the living room doorjamb, I stare inside. No one— unless they’re behind the door. I look at the space between door and frame—again, no one there. I point upstairs and look at Ryan, who takes his phone out of his pocket. Thankful one of us has a modicum of sense, I take the stairs slowly, the hallway light fading into dark the higher I climb. Ryan stands at the bottom, looking up at me. He holds up his hands to ask whether he should stay or follow, and I shrug. I’ve got no fucking clue what he should do. Part of me thinks he ought to stay where he is so he can call for help if someone is up there and I shout out, but the other part…fuck, I’m shitting myself, if I’m honest. Don’t want to do this alone. I jerk my head, indicating that he come with me, and he nods. On the landing, I narrow my eyes to see in the semi-darkness. Two doors stand closed—the

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bathroom and spare bedroom—but our bedroom door is half open, the exterior light bleeding through the thin curtains. It offers enough for me to see better, and I push open the door, expecting it to rebound off someone hiding behind it. With a dull thud, the handle smacks into the wall, and there isn’t a damn soul in here except me, Ryan at my back. I turn and look at him, eyes wide and brows raised in silent question: Did I imagine that shadow, or what? He shrugs and cocks his head toward the other doors. This time he’s leading, and I’m apprehensive about that. Yeah, he’s usually the one who acts like he has more balls than me, but when it comes to protecting him, to sticking up for him… Ryan opens the bathroom door and pushes it wide. Nothing. The spare door comes next, and he does the same. No bastard is in there! What the fuck is going on? A creak sounds, loud and ominous, and I reckon it came from downstairs. Fuck, what if

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someone only made it look like they’d come inside? What if we’re up here and they’re now down there? I glance at Ryan, and he takes the stairs, dashing down them in an attempt to catch whoever the hell made that noise. Rushing after him, I almost slip on a middle step and grab the banister rail to steady myself. My heart beats way too fast, and my legs and guts hollow. Ryan barges into the living room—the light is still on, and it’s clear no one is here. For a second, I wonder if I’m going mad, whether the shadow was a trick of the light, but shit, the air seems charged with badness now. I trail Ryan down the hall and into the kitchen. The back door is open again, but no one is here. Is the catch faulty? Is that it? Ryan turns to look at me. “What the fuck?” he mouths. I shrug, and he walks over to close the door again, locking it this time. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and something rustles behind me. Ryan spins to face me, eyes going wide as he looks over my shoulder. His mouth

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opens in slow motion, and I swivel toward the hallway, my gaze first taking in the fact that the small door to the cupboard under the stairs is open and then to the man standing behind it. And the gun he holds pointing at me, his wrists resting on the top of the door. “Doug?” His names leaves my mouth as a squeak. He sneers, lips curled and ugly. “What kind of wanker doesn’t check the cupboard under the stairs?” Ryan steps up beside me. I can’t take my gaze off Doug—what the fuck is he doing here?—but from the corner of my eye I see Ryan’s fists bunch. Questions flash through my mind in a split second: Why does he have a gun? How did he find us? What does he want? Doug steps out from behind the door and kicks it shut. He holds the gun out, still trained on me, and plants his legs apart as though getting ready to pull the trigger. It brings back memories of Trevor doing the same thing, and I will my bladder to hold up—fucked if I want to piss myself through fear again.

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“Trev wasn’t happy you came back.” Doug’s stare holds mine. “Sent me here to make sure you understand he meant what he said.” I have the absurd urge to laugh. I mean, if that gun wasn’t aimed at me, if Trevor hadn’t done the same damn thing, I’d have thought this was some kind of joke. Kids you know from school just don’t act like this. Fuck yeah, I’d been bullied by them, but guns and shit like that? No way! But it was happening, this is how they’d turned out, the path they’d chosen, and we had to get out of this somehow. “Fuck off, Doug,” Ryan says, moving to stand between me and Doug. “I told you we wouldn’t be back.” He pauses, then, “And what’s Trev’s fucking problem anyway? Why’s he got a beef with Lee? That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Schoolyard shit from years ago that has no place in the adult world.” Doug laughs, a menacing sound that sets my nerves more on edge. “Listen to you. Watch too much chat show TV, you do. Don’t you fucking get it? Trev is hard, man. Someone to be feared. And I’m his right-hand, know what I mean? We

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don’t take shit. We don’t like our orders being ignored.” This is doing my head in. Doug’s acting like he’s some gang lord or something, as if he’s so tough he’s to be feared. Yeah, I’ll admit I’m scared—who wouldn’t be with a damn gun pointed at them?—but Doug and Trevor being like this? Give me a fucking break! “Uh, far be it for me to question your scariness, mate,” Ryan begins, “But we’ve known you years. Seen you fall over and scuff your knees in the playground. Seen you crying when old Frankie—remember him? The science teacher?— caught you bunking off school. This isn’t you, Doug.” Doug clamps his jaw and shouts, “Don’t fucking tell me who I am! You know nothing about me!” Ryan steps forward, hand up to show Doug he doesn’t mean any harm. “Doug, you ought to go home. Tell Trev you delivered the message and we won’t be back. Fuck, tell him we shit ourselves, tell him whatever, just go, yeah?”

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“No! I can’t. Trev said…” His double handgrip on the gun loosens—sweat, I guess—and the gun shakes. From his anger? Fear? “Trev said what?” Ryan moves closer. Doug takes one hand off the gun and swipes his arm out, striking Ryan on the temple with his fist. Ryan staggers sideways, crashing into the cooker. I lunge forward to try and grab the gun, to smack it out of his hand, but Doug is quicker. He aims at my stomach, his finger pulling back on the trigger, sweat beading his forehead and dripping down his face. The gunshot sounds so loud in the confines of the cabin—mean and hard and wretched. Ryan shouts “Fuck!” and scrabbles back to his feet, bracing himself on the cooker top with one hand. I feel no pain so look down, seeing a hole in my jacket front. Then a searing burn starts in my gut, spreading throughout my torso and gaining heat as it goes. Doug’s eyes grow wide. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry! Trev said…Trev…” He turns, running down the hallway and flinging open the front door.

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I stare after him, dimly aware of Ryan by my side, my hands lifting to cover my stomach. He swears several times, jabbing at his phone buttons. I grimace as the pain level increases and squeeze my eyes closed. Taking my hands from my stomach, I glance down at them. Blood covers the palms, and like it’s been given the green light to flow freely, I feel it oozing out of my stomach. Fuck. Fuck, he shot me! Jesus Christ! Ryan babbles into his phone. I jerk backwards, saved from falling by Ryan catching me with one arm. My legs give out, and I slump to the floor, the pain and blood flow getting stronger. Ryan kneels beside me, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, and pulls down my coat zip. It’s hard to take a breath now without thinking my lungs aren’t big enough to hold the air. As Ryan lifts my T-shirt, I close my eyes and listen to his voice as he speaks to the emergency services. I allow bad thoughts to creep in. I imagine the ambulance crew having to leave their vehicle at the foot of the hill, them running up the path to

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get to the cabin. The crew will have to come from the next town over… They’re not going to make it. I’m not going to make it. What about Ryan? He presses a wadded-up tea towel to my belly now, and his breaths come in short spurts along with a few muttered fucks and shits. I give a small smile at that and drift on a sea of pain, keeping my mind alert by envisaging various scenarios. If I don’t make it, will he be all right without me? My eyes burn, and tears drip down into my hairline. I want to live, to be with him forever, until we grow old and ancient and can’t fuck anymore because our cocks don’t work. I smile again, wishing I could tell Ryan what I’d thought—he’d find it funny—but no words come out. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to speak. Blackness seeps into the edges of my mind, obliterating the images of me being tended to by paramedics. One sharp, abrasive pain rips across my stomach, and I have no energy to cry out. My arms and legs weaken, and it’s like I’m sinking into the floor, melting into the linoleum. My

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breaths stutter, and I try and suck in a deep breath, panicked that the judders I just gave will be my last. The pain is gone. The blackness is absolute. And I give in to wherever sleep, or death, wants to take me.

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watched the paramedics load Lee onto a

stretcher. His heart pounded too damn fast, fright sending him light headed, and he reached out to steady himself on the kitchen worktop. He felt sick to his stomach and fought the urge to chuck his guts up. He stared at the floor, at the blood, and snatches of movement from the paramedics danced on the outskirts of his vision. One paramedic gave a count of three, and Ryan looked up. They lifted the stretcher and carried Lee down the hall and out into the night. Panic gripped Ryan. Lee was unconscious, had bled all over the floor…

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What if he doesn’t make it? What if he… No, he wouldn’t think like that. Couldn’t think like that. Stepping over the blood, Ryan rushed down the hall and went outside. He’d agreed to meet the ambulance at the hospital but had no fucking clue where to go. The next town over…he’d been there with Lee on shopping trips, but never to the hospital. He stared ahead, seeing one paramedic’s head bobbing as he walked down the hill. Tears burned Ryan’s eyes. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Their life together had only just begun. How could the past come roaring back like that? Ryan had expected bumps in the road with regards to Lee’s mother, but threats from Trevor while he was still banged up inside? He raked a hand through his hair, leaning on the doorjamb to gather his thoughts. I need to get my act together. Get to the hospital. He dashed about the cabin after washing his bloody hands and changing into clean clothes. While stuffing some of Lee’s clothes—pyjama bottoms, jeans, T-shirts, and toiletries—into a holdall, he rang Josh, his phone on loud speaker

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so he could do both tasks at once. Shocked at the news, Josh agreed to pick Ryan up at the foot of the hill and take him to the hospital. Josh had been right—Ryan wasn’t in any fit state to drive. Hell, he’d have crashed through lack of concentration. At the bottom of the hill, he waited, on edge. What was happening with Lee? They’d probably reached the hospital by now, and he’d been informed by one of the paramedics that the police would want to speak with him, what with the gunshot wound and all. Normally he’d have stayed at the cabin awaiting their arrival, but he couldn’t, not when it was Lee who’d been shot. Headlights coming up the road ahead pierced the darkness, and Ryan itched for Josh to hurry the hell up. The car swerved and came to a stop. Ryan jumped into the passenger seat, wanting to scream for Josh to hurry. He needed to be near Lee now, to know what was going on. Whether he was…all right. “Jesus,” Josh said, pulling away and heading for the next town. “What the hell went on up there?”

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Ryan explained, finishing with, “We had no idea those blokes had turned so bad. Just thought they imagined themselves as hard nuts, know what I mean? Saw Doug on the day we buried Lee’s mum. He started in the pub. Had no idea the prick would visit Trevor and tell him we’d been back.” He chuckled halfheartedly. “Besides, who’d have thought Doug would carry out Trevor’s orders? I fucking didn’t.” He sighed and stared out the windscreen, wishing the car zoomed down the motorway faster than it did. “Never took any of them seriously. Not even when I found out Trevor had pulled a gun on Lee already. I mean, you don’t, do you? You don’t think kids from school pose any threat.” He turned to look at Josh. “Sounds like they turned bad all right.” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Tell me, why the hell have they got a problem with you anyway?” “I’ll give you one guess.” “Jesus. Stupid.” “Yeah, but some people…”

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“I know.” Josh grimaced and shook his head. “He’s in good hands, Ryan.” “Yeah, I imagine he is, but…shit, he’s my life, you know? I can’t…I don’t want to lose him.” A sob caught in the back of his throat, and he cuffed his cheeks and nose. “Hey, you won’t. Gunshot to the belly—he was lucky there. In the chest or the thigh…not so good.” Ryan huffed out a wry laugh. “Thank God for small mercies then, eh?” They continued the journey in silence. Once there, Josh pulled up outside the emergency department. Ryan opened the car door, one leg out on the path leading to the main doors. “Thanks, man.” Josh smiled. “No problem. Ring me when you have news. And if you need me to pick you up… Or if you want Lee’s car, Sue can bring it here. I’ll follow her, then take her back to Biddingford.” “Cheers.” Ryan got out, eager to get inside and seek someone out for an update. He bent over before closing the door, one hand on the roof, the other on the top of the door, and peered

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inside. “Will you let the boss know what’s happened?” Josh nodded. “Will do. Go on now. Get in there.” Ryan shut the door and turned away, walking through the automatic doors with leaden feet. It seemed the adrenaline rush had left him tired. He approached the desk—unmanned—and tapped his fingers on the top. Glancing around brought no sign of doctors or nurses, and he muttered under his breath about this being an emergency area and what good was it if no one was there to handle a bloody emergency. About to lose his temper, fear and worry roiling in his gut, he smacked his hand down on the brass bell and bit his lower lip. A young brunette nurse, hair scraped back in a bun, came out of the station behind the desk, and other shadows moved behind the closed white blinds. What are they doing in there? Having a fucking tea break? Irritation burned inside him, and he glared at the nurse, knowing she didn’t deserve the brunt of his anger but unable to stop himself.

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“Shouldn’t there be someone on this desk at all times?” She smiled the smile of someone who’d been asked that question a million times. “Can I help you, sir?” “Err, yes. That’s why I’m standing here.” Stop it. Calm down. Be polite. She tilted her head, waiting for him to give her a list of ailments, he supposed. “My partner was brought in about half an hour ago with a gunshot wound to the stomach.” “Name?” She tapped at the keyboard. Ryan gave it and waited while she browsed the computer screen, irritation branding his stomach, producing bile that zipped up his windpipe. “Ah, he’s in surgery. If you’d like to wait—” “Is he going to be okay?” The thought of Lee in surgery made Ryan want to cry, but he held back the tears. He couldn’t afford to break down now. “I don’t have access to that kind of information,” the nurse said kindly. “If you’d like to wait over there?” She pointed to the waiting

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room chairs, most of them filled with people in various states of injury. “I’ll come and find you when he’s out.” When. She said when. That sounds hopeful, doesn’t it? Ryan nodded, his anger evaporating, replaced by fear that he’d never see Lee again. That the nurse had said what she always told people, he’d bet—when, when, when. Can’t afford to have a patient’s loved ones freaking out in the waiting room. “Thanks.” He headed towards the chairs and flopped down into one. The hard grey plastic dug into his shoulder blades, was uncomfortable, so he got up and took another chair, one with beige fake leather covering the foam seat and back. It wasn’t wonderful but it would do, and he chastised himself for griping about a bloody chair. His discomfort was nothing compared to Lee’s. Hours ticked past—fret-filled minutes that stretched on forever—and every time a doctor or nurse came into view Ryan sat up straighter,

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thinking they were coming to speak to him. They breezed on, white coats flapping, stethoscopes swinging around their necks. Despondency grew with every second that skipped by, leaving Ryan fatigued and wrung out from worry. He laced then unlaced his fingers. He bit his nails. He propped his forehead in his hands. Still no word from a doctor. Two policemen came in and walked up to the desk. Ryan watched them, his stomach clenching. They were here to speak to him, he knew that, and even though he’d done nothing wrong it still felt like he had. Seeing a policeman had always done that to him. He sucked in a calming breath and blew it out through pursed lips, nausea sweeping through him at the thought of recounting what happened all over again. Bad enough that he saw it inside his head without having to say what went on. The words would make it more real, especially spoken to coppers. The nurse pointed Ryan’s way, and the policemen strolled over, frowns in place as they took him in. Oh yeah, his shaved head marked

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him out as someone not to be trusted, someone out to cause trouble, and he was used to that reaction. Funny how an appearance could make another judge. He clenched his jaw and stood when they reached him, holding out his hand to shake theirs in turn. He introduced himself, explaining he was Lee’s partner, and their expressions changed from suspicion to shock. Probably because he’d openly admitted he was gay—again, he was used to that bullshit—and because his voice and attitude didn’t match his appearance. Still, he couldn’t blame them. They must see all sorts in their job. They led him to a corner of the waiting room and questioned him. Ryan related the night’s events as well as he could remember—some parts were missing due to shock and how quickly it happened—and he was assured Doug would be apprehended. Yeah, Ryan didn’t doubt that. Didn’t doubt that he’d be sharing the same living space as Trevor either. Ryan would go to court and make sure that bastard went down for a long stretch.

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Once the police left, the emergency room emptied of patients for around five minutes, leaving Ryan with the sense he was the only person in the hospital. The nurses were back in their station. No one walked the tiled floor in front of the chairs. Was this a sign that he was alone in other areas of his life? That Lee was gone? Panicked, he jumped out of his seat and walked to the desk, once again ringing the bell. Before a nurse could emerge from the hidey-hole, the automatic doors behind Ryan slid open and a whoosh of activity entered. A stretcher bearing a woman, bloody clothes stuck to her body, slid along the corridor beside the desk, two paramedics attending and one walking toward the nurses’ station. Ryan stepped aside, and the nurse came out, taking down the patient’s details, fingers flying over the keyboard. The woman had been stabbed—Jesus, I hope Doug never went on the rampage—and her vitals were failing. With the booking in done, the paramedic left and new people walked, hobbled, or staggered in.

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Ryan quickly asked whether Lee was out of surgery yet, and the nurse eyed him sympathetically. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I forgot to come and see you, didn’t I?” What the fuck? Ryan gritted his teeth and kept his temper in check, preparing for the worst. She’d said she was so sorry… Oh, God. Let him be all right. Don’t let him have died. Not him. Not my Lee. She rounded the desk and placed her hand on the base of his back, guiding him down the corridor. Ryan wanted to ask where they were going, whether she was taking him to a private room where she’d break the news that his world was ripped apart by some bastard’s bullet and a failed operation. The words wouldn’t come, and he let her take him into the elevator and up two floors. His jangling nerves brought on a wave of sickness, and he swallowed. Shakes took over his body, and he forced himself to control them. It wouldn’t do for him to break down now. Not in such a confined space where he couldn’t hide his emotions. They stepped out

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to a series of machine-made bleeps and wheezes, and Ryan stared across at another nurses’ station and a row of closed doors. Viewing windows, some with the blinds closed, filled the walls beside the doors, and he heaved a sigh of relief. If he’d been brought here, Lee was all right. “He’s down here,” the nurse said, showing him to room 4 and pointing at the blind-covered window. “You may look through the window for now, but he’s sleeping and needs recovery time. No excitement when he wakes.” “The gunshot…” Ryan stared at the closed blinds, wishing he could see through them. “Didn’t damage anything that couldn’t be repaired, according to his notes.” She patted his arm. “I’ll just go in and open the blinds, then I’ll leave you to it. I’ll let the nurses know you’re here and who you are. If you need anything, call the nurse along there.” She jerked her head toward the station. “And if you’re lucky, because it’s so late, she might even let you stay the night in one of the easy chairs in the visitor’s room.” She smiled then winked.

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“Thank you.” Ryan regretted being short with her. She’d either worked a long shift or had one ahead, and she looked tired, her hair escaping the bun at the top of her neck. She smiled and entered the room, slipping inside before Ryan had a chance to peek at Lee. The blinds opened, and he peered between two slats, leaning forward to get as close as he could to his lover. He didn’t see or hear the nurse leave. Lee took the whole of his attention. God, he looked so white against the sheets, his arms either side of him on top of the customary hospital blanket. Ryan’s heart contracted, and his stomach clenched at the sight of Lee’s chest rising and falling. He’d nearly lost him, nearly fucking lost him, and he swallowed the huge lump forming in his throat. Tears burned his eyes, and this time he let them fall, let relief sweep through him until it bent his knees and had him sagging against the glass, fingers gripping the ledge below the window. He took a deep breath and swiped the tears from his cheeks, exhaling through shaky lips.

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Glancing to his left, he eyed the nurses’ station. No one stood behind the desk, so he quietly opened Lee’s door and went inside. The monitor beside the bed blipped, and a ventilator breathed heavily, its raspy hiss giving the illusion Lee was the one making the noise. Ryan moved closer to the bed, the squeak of his boots loud on the tiled floor. He winced and tiptoed until he stood beside Lee. Looking down at him, he longed to cup his face, to see his eyes open and stare up at him, to have him smile and call him a silly bastard because everything was going to be all right. I’ll fucking have Doug for this. Bastard! Tears blurred Ryan’s vision, and he dashed them away. He reached down and gently took Lee’s hand in his, worrying that he’d break him if he held it too tight. Lee’s skin felt the same as it always had—smooth and warm—and gratitude rushed through Ryan that he wasn’t holding a cold hand, a hand that could no longer feel or give sweet touches. “I love you, man,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

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God, yeah, I love you. Hurts. Wake up. Just for a minute. Just so I can see your eyes and you can smile and know I’m here. Will always be here. Love for Lee swelled inside Ryan, an inferno that took his breath away. He hadn’t thought it possible he could love Lee more than he already did, but there it was, that raging fire burning brightly, giving him the strength he’d need to nurse Lee back to health and be by his side throughout the coming trial—and for the rest of their lives.

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WILDFIRE ~ Chapter One All right, so seeing Lee shot hadn’t been the best of times for Ryan, but watching his lover suffer in the aftermath had been right up there for feeling pretty damn useless. It wasn’t so much Ryan not being able to do anything to help as the nurses bustled around Lee’s bed, administering medical aid and the standard bedside manner, but the fact that Ryan couldn’t take away Lee’s pain. The memories of that night. He’d do anything to erase them from Lee’s mind, anything to be in that bed instead of Lee, bullet wound almost healed, Lee’s nightmares raging through his head. Not that he

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hadn’t had nightmares of his own, mind you. He had. Terrible, wretched visions had overtaken his once-pleasant dreams, and every night Lee died in them. Ryan woke panicked and covered in sweat. Shit, it had been a damn freaky turn of events, no mistake about that, but he’d never anticipated the unsettled feelings after going through it. Yeah, he’d watched the news, seen victims of crime crying when they explained what had happened, but their devastation hadn’t really come through. Not the raw, body-hollowing shit that gripped Ryan, anyway. He sighed as he watched Lee sleep. Sighed that he could think of himself and how he felt when Lee was the one suffering the most. A nurse had told Ryan last week that he had to sift through his own musings about what went on; otherwise he wouldn’t be much good to a recuperating Lee if he was messed up in the head. Ryan knew that, realised she spoke the truth, but it didn’t stop him feeling guilty. Lee was due to go home today. He couldn’t go back to work yet, fuck no, so they were both

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relieved Lee had agreed to keep the money his old dear had left him when she’d committed suicide. They could live off that for a bit, and had discussed taking that holiday they’d mentioned before…well, yeah, before. Maybe a change of scenery would help. Who the fuck knew? Ryan suspected the horror of what they’d been through would follow them wherever they went. After all, their memories would go with them, locked inside their heads and hearts. It was a tough one, all right, their situation, but they’d get through. They had to. Neither of them had spent all that time apart to let some fucked-up school pal and a bullet split them up. Lee shifted, his arm coming out from beneath the white covers and flopping down on top. Ryan stared at him, took in the beauty of the man he’d grown up with, the man who made his life so damn complete it wasn’t funny. And he sighed at the sting of tears. He’d cried too many times since the shooting. So much so his eyes were permanently gritty and itched. Shit, did they itch, and rubbing them only made it worse. Ryan

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blinked, sick of himself, sick of the thoughts running through his mind. He didn’t usually worry so much, never had, preferring to brush insignificant crap off and move right along. But this was hardly insignificant, was it? Jesus, this has to be the most significant thing in my life so far. The one thing that’s dominated every day. It rules us. Fucking dictates everything now. And it makes me sick because a couple of gay haters did this. Couldn’t just let us live our life in peace. Had to make their point. A surge of anger got hold of Ryan, and he muttered, “Well, I’m fucked if they’re going to upset us anymore.” He felt more like his old self then, suddenly able to see that if he allowed other people’s actions to control his mind and life, the bullies had won. “And they ain’t fucking winning.” “You’ve finally gone mad, then,” Lee said, voice thick from sleep. “Wondered how long it’d take before you did.” Ryan laughed quietly and leaned forward in his chair, taking Lee’s hand in his. “You sleep all right? Anything hurt this morning?” He stroked Lee’s palm with his thumb.

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“Yep and no. Didn’t have a nightmare, and my guts are finally feeling normal again.” “Good.” Ryan smiled and watched Lee turn onto his side, facing him. An erection tented the blankets. “Bit of Morning Glory there, mate.” He nodded towards Lee’s crotch. Lee glanced down. “Yeah. I could say I need a piss, but that wouldn’t be too romantic.” “Like we’ve ever been that kind of couple. We’re not romantic.” Ryan smiled and met Lee’s eyes. “I do need one, but I can’t be arsed to move.” “That wasn’t the right kind of answer.” “Thought you said we weren’t romantic.” Lee’s mouth lifted at one corner. “Yeah, well. Things could change.” “They could.” Lee paused, then said, “All right. I don’t need a piss. I need you. How’s that?” Ryan huffed out air through his nose, trying not to laugh. It just wasn’t them, this love talk business. “Aw, shut the fuck up and go to the toilet. Nurse’ll be here in a minute with your breakfast. You don’t want her ogling your cock.” “Too right. Especially if it’s that sour-faced old bugger.” Lee got up and headed for the adjoining

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bathroom. “Reckon she just about tolerates us, you know.” He frowned, staring at the tiled white floor, his ever-present worry over what people thought about them all to clear. “Been through this before, mate. Time not to give a crap, know what I mean? You’ve been through a lot. Could’ve been killed. Who cares what some dried-up old bag thinks. What anyone thinks. Life’s too short. Too precious.” Ryan’s throat swelled, the emotion a bit too much at this time of the morning. “Yeah. You’re right.” “As usual.” Lee flipped Ryan the bird and disappeared through the bathroom doorway. He left the door slightly ajar, as he’d been told to do by one of the nurses in case he fainted, and Ryan listened to the sounds emanating from the small room. “You gonna shower now? Get ready for when you leave?” he asked, picking at a hangnail and wincing when he pulled off a thick bit of skin. Gotta stop doing that. He knows I’m worried when I fuck about with my fingers. “Yeah, may as well.”

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The shower spray sounded, hard jets smacking into the plastic tray beneath, as did the wet skid of Lee stepping inside with unsteady footing. “You all right in there?” Ryan asked. “Yeah. You coming in?” Lee’s voice was muffled from him being enclosed in three walls of glass and one of tile. “What, now? Here?” “Yeah. Why not? Lock the bloody door and no one will be any the wiser. Got a Morning Glory here going to waste. Taking a piss didn’t cure it.” Ryan stood and walked over to the bathroom doorway. “Man, your turn of phrase is so…crude.” “Would you want it any other way?” Lee looked over his shoulder, grin filling his face. Do I? Ryan didn’t know, wasn’t sure if them adopting pillow talk was something that would fit. They’d always been so…well, so normal. And what the fuck is that anyway? Lee turned away to face the tiled rear wall, and Ryan remained where he was, taking in as much of his lover as he could, what with the rapidly steaming glass. Lee’s back was unmarred

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by a scar. The bullet hadn’t passed right through, had lodged somewhere inside, removed by surgeons giving a good prognosis that nothing major had been harmed. Lee’s spine stood out beneath the skin, more prominent than it had been due to him losing quite a bit of weight being in hospital. The muscles in his arms had shrunk too, with Lee unable to go to the gym these past couple of weeks. But his body still aroused Ryan just as much, if not more now they had that unspoken thing between them that shit, they had come that close to being without each other. Lee picked up a bottle of shower gel from an ancient cracked, plastic shelf and Ryan imagined him squeezing some out into his palm. He couldn’t see, could only guess from Lee’s movements, and the thought of where Lee would spread that gel made Ryan’s cock harden. It strained against his jeans, and his heart rate picked up speed as he entertained doing as Lee had asked. Dare he? Dare he get in that damn shower? Lee soaped himself, folding at the waist to smooth lather over his shins, making the

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decision a no-damn-brainer for Ryan. He stepped into the bathroom and locked the door, the sound of the bolt grinding accompanied by Lee’s low chuckle. Smiling and shaking his head, Ryan undressed, padding toward the shower stall, hardly able to see Lee now, the thick grey steam curling around him. Ryan pulled open the stall door and eased inside, body pressed against Lee’s, the space offering minimal chance of movement. Lee inched around to face Ryan, the lather on his chest giving him a slick feel. With Lee’s erection pressed against Ryan’s leg, his own burgeoned, filled so quickly with blood his breath caught in his throat. “Fuck,” he whispered, forehead resting on Lee’s. “You sure you’re up for this?” “If I’m well enough to go home, I’m well enough to fuck.” He crushed his mouth to Ryan’s and slipped his tongue inside, the contact so damn fine Ryan’s knees sagged. His back met with the cold glass behind him, and he shivered from that and the feel of Lee’s hands sliding down his sides and

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around to cup his ass. Lee’s hands slippery with foam, he dragged his fingers down Ryan’s cleft, stilling at his hole. Ryan moaned deep in his throat and embraced Lee, palming his shoulder blades, cupping the jutting bones. His cock throbbed— God, he needed release so badly—and his balls ached. He drew one hand up and into Lee’s hair, the wet feel of it sweet against his skin. Trailing his other hand downward, he mimicked Lee’s movement, finding his lover’s pucker and circling it with one fingertip. They pushed inside one another at the same time. Ryan’s ass sheath clamped around Lee’s finger just as Ryan reached up and played with the nub inside Lee’s channel. Their kiss deepened, their combined need like wildfire surging through Ryan’s veins. Cocks pressed together, Ryan soaked in the sensations roaming through him—lust, safety, and being “home”. He’d missed this side of their relationship, the closeness, the sharing of their bodies, but while Lee had been getting better, they’d found a different, deeper closeness they hadn’t had before.

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The thought of losing your partner did that to a body. Ryan lowered his hand from Lee’s hair and snuck it between them, gripping their cocks in the limited space and massaging them up and down. Lee gripped Ryan’s ass cheek with his free hand, fingertips digging into the flesh, showing Ryan his pumping of their cocks was getting to him. It wouldn’t be long before they both exploded, their forced abstinence something of the past, their orgasms releasing so much more than sexual tension. Ryan hoped it would also release the past, set it free so they could move on, locking the memories of this time deep inside, only bringing them out once they were stronger and more able to deal with them. Lee probed deeper inside Ryan’s ass, and in response Ryan sucked Lee’s bottom lip hard, the questing finger bringing on a rush of desire so strong Ryan’s cum threatened to spurt. He jerked their shafts harder, faster, movement impeded by their closeness. Their frantic fumbling only heightened Ryan’s need, the rawness of it, the animalistic grunts erupting in their throats a

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huge turn on. Lee pushed his finger up higher, scratched Ryan’s ass cheek with his free hand, four deep scores down the globe, and Ryan was undone. He snatched his mouth away, lowering his lips to Lee’s shoulder and biting down hard. His fingertip rubbed Lee’s special spot, his other hand fist-fucking them with frenzied jerks. Ryan’s balls tightened a second before the tingle of orgasm grew stronger at the base of his cock. He licked up Lee’s neck, sucked in his earlobe. Lee’s groan close to his ear was all Ryan needed to let go. Cum spurted, hot, a forceful ejaculation, and Ryan guessed his lover had also come from the amount of heat that had landed on his belly. Fuck, he loved him. Loved him so damn much it hurt to think about it. He sought out Lee’s mouth, craving the touch of his tongue as he slowed his pace on their cocks and milked them of every drop they had left. Easing his finger out of Lee’s ass, he smoothed his hand up and down Lee’s back, the water splashing off his arm and giving his caress a slicker journey. He wound his fingers into the

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other’s hair and pressed Lee’s mouth to his, wanting to convey with his kiss just how much this man meant to him. How glad he was that Lee stood here with him now. Lee slid his finger out then up Ryan’s valley, creating circular swirls at the top then running his fingertips up his spine. Their tongues flicked against one another, lips squashed hard, teeth clashing with the intensity of what they both wanted to express. Those damn tears pricked Ryan’s eyes again, and he opened them, finding Lee looking right at him. Ryan pulled away, took his hand from their cocks and used both to cup his man’s face. That dear face, one with eyes that told Ryan everything he needed to know. He’d heard the expression that eyes were the windows to the soul, and if that was the case, if that was true, then Ryan could see right into the very depths of Lee’s. Ryan was loved, cherished, and although Lee never expressed himself in the romantic ways Ryan had suddenly wanted to hear, it didn’t matter. Not when such an open expression left Lee vulnerable and showed every damn thing he felt inside.

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Shit, I’m so lucky. They stood for a while, their cheeks pressed to the other’s shoulder, the water splashing onto Lee’s back and trickling down between them to pool where their bellies touched. Ryan didn’t want to move. Didn’t want the bubble to burst and real life to come crashing back. But it did with a sharp rap to the bathroom door. “Hey!” a woman called. “Hey, you okay in there?” “Crap,” Lee whispered, easing away from Ryan and reaching for the shower gel. “It’s that old bag nurse.” He cleared his throat and called out, “Yeah. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” He looked at Ryan when he said it, and Ryan knew those words had a deeper meaning. Life would be okay once they left here. For the most part, anyway. And if the shit hit the fan at the upcoming trial, then they’d deal with it as best they could. But for now, they’d rub along as they always had. Together. “Right,” the nurse said, voice muffled as though she had her face pressed up to the doorjamb. “Breakfast’s coming in five. So get a move on!”

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Her footsteps clip-clopped off, and Ryan released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d held. “Fuck,” he said. “Good job I shave my head.” “Why?” Lee frowned a little and began soaping Ryan’s body. “Because she’d know damn well what we’ve been up to if I had wet hair too.” Lee created circles of lather on Ryan’s chest, paying particular attention to the nipples. “I don’t give a fuck anymore.” “What?” Ryan raised his hands and gripped Lee’s wrists. “Can you say that again, just so I get it right for when I remind you what you just said next time you fret over what someone thinks about us.” He smiled and dragged his thumbs up and down the inside of Lee’s wrists. “Fuck off,” Lee said, smiling. “Come on, we’ve got a life to get on with.”

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WILDFIRE ~ Chapter Two So they’d sneaked off for a weekend break. Big deal. Ryan had been pissed at Josh, the guy who had welcomed Lee when he’d first arrived in Biddingford, welcomed Ryan too. When Josh’d queried whether it was the right thing to do, it got Ryan’s hackles up. Yeah, he understood Josh worrying about Lee, but it wasn’t like they were going abseiling or taking a canoe on white water rapids, was it? Ryan had driven them to Norfolk, to a quiet village with a small stretch of beach and the solitude they both wanted. So far, Friday night they’d strolled from their cliff-top hotel to

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the local pub, The Chequers, and had taken a walk around the village earlier this Saturday morning. Really strenuous stuff. Pack it in. Don’t let your beef at Josh’s concern ruin this time alone. Ryan knew he was being stupid, possibly jealous that Josh gave any kind of shit about Lee. And why did he feel like that towards him all of a sudden? Was it because he’d had Lee all to himself while he’d been in hospital, that sharing him again now Lee had been allowed home was proving too hard? Yeah, probably. He questioned how he felt about that now as they once again sat in The Chequers, waiting for their Ploughman’s Lunch. Their booth shielded them; here they were, alone apart from a few other patrons who paid them no mind, and a boredlooking barman who polished glasses, his eyes blank as he stared out at a street void of anyone. Did Ryan suspect Josh was secretly gay, was that it? Oh, pack it the fuck in. That’s just stupid. What’s wrong with you, man?

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Lee toyed with a cardboard coaster advertising Heineken, and Ryan studied those fingertips as they skated along the edge, recalling with heat growing in his loins how those fingers felt on his body. Shit, Lee had the ability to make him weak in the knees, to want to act like a damn girl and get all soppy. How had that come about? Ryan had always been the stronger one, but now…? “Love you, man,” he said quietly, looking into Lee’s eyes as his lover glanced up from the previously riveting scenery of the coaster. Lee smiled, that quirk of his lips sending jolts of excitement to Ryan’s cock. “What brought that on?” Ryan shrugged. “Dunno. Was just thinking, that’s all.” “About?” Lee cocked his head, one eyebrow raised. “How Josh pissed me off yesterday before we left.” Lee laughed and leaned against the booth seat, his slouched position so laid back Ryan marvelled at the change in him. It seemed the uncertain guy he knew had been replaced with someone who took the knocks of life in his stride.

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“I guessed he had,” Lee said, “but he was just concerned, you know? He’s sort of become like an older brother.” “Yeah. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Ryan clenched his jaw at the sound of petulance in his voice. You sulky cunt. Grow up. “Look, sorry. I’m being childish. Forget I said anything.” “Glad you did.” Lee flipped the coaster in one hand and picked up his pint of lager with the other. “Means you give a shit.” “But you knew I did anyway. Bloody stupid of me to get like this. Felt the same when I first met him. You remember that?” Lee nodded and swallowed, lips curving into a broad smile. “Yep, and back then you thought I was seeing him. Daft sod.” “You gotta admit, it did look like it.” “It did.” Ryan looked at Lee, really looked at him, and imagined him not being here now, not sipping his pint like he hadn’t been shot and a whole heap of shit hadn’t rained down on them. Was it because of me, this change of events?

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Life had been going pretty good for Lee until Ryan had shown up. And then the start of a really stupid thought seeped into his mind. What if… No, that’s just nuts. I can’t believe I even thought of it. The thought persisted, grew, and he shook his head as though the action would get rid of it. What if Lee’s mother is making crap find us so we end up splitting? What if there is such a thing as Heaven and shit like that? There. He’d fully thought it. Let himself think something so ridiculous that he questioned whether he’d begun to lose his sanity. How the hell did a dead person influence the lives of the living? They don’t. You’re just being a dumb shit, thinking of things to fuel this…this whatever the hell it is that’s making you feel so down. You ought to be more grateful Lee’s still here. “I wonder if my mother would have visited me in hospital if she’d been alive.” Lee stared out the window beside their booth, out at a street where terraced houses stood looking like a row of white teeth with black tips

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and even blacker specks. Black painted shutters, some open, some closed, made Ryan think of the inhabitants having a lazy Saturday afternoon in front of the TV, the footy on and a can of beer in hand. And the fact that Lee had picked up on what he’d been thinking…there was something between them, something more than your usual relationship. Nothing otherworldy, no, nothing like that, just…something. “No idea, mate,” Ryan said, sipping his lager and not enjoying the penny-tang taste of it. He felt the need for something stronger, though really, their life wasn’t so bad now that he needed alcohol to get through the day. Apart from the trial ahead, the worst was over, so Ryan letting irrational jealousies cloud their weekend was just dumb. He’d regret it when they returned home if he carried on like this. “Maybe she would have. I mean, from her note, it sounded like she’d realised what she’d been like towards you was wrong. Maybe you’d have sorted things out if she hadn’t…” He didn’t finish; didn’t need to. “But we’ll never know, will we?” Lee leaned forward and placed his pint down, turning to look

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out at the bar. “How long have we been waiting for lunch?” Ryan glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar, a big ornate thing, gaudy and totally out of place with its yellow-gold filigree edging. It reminded him of something some old woman would have in her living room. “Half hour?” “Right.” Lee made to get up, but a young blonde woman bustled out the double swing doors beside the bar, plates in hand. “About time,” he said under his breath, smiling at her approach. “Stomach thought my throat had been cut.” Ryan laughed, relieved he had it in him to do so. He knew what was wrong now. He’d touched on the subject of Lee dying but hadn’t really told him how he’d felt about it. They’d swept it away, pretended everything was all right, neither of them wanting to delve too deep into their emotions in case they burst forth and smacked the shit out of them. He’d worried so damn much that Lee would be taken away, and what with Josh coming over all Mr. Protective, Ryan had the absurd idea Lee would be taken from him another

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way now. He needed to talk to Lee, to explain a few things. To learn to accept, that’s what he needed. Accept that Lee wasn’t going anywhere without him. To believe it. The blonde lowered the plates to the table in front of them, and Ryan studied Lee, smiling at the way his lover thanked the woman, nodding as she walked away, him unrolling his knife and fork from their paper napkin cocoon. He wasn’t going anywhere, right? “You won’t leave me, will you?” Ryan blurted, surprised the words had come out when he hadn’t intended saying them aloud. Lee dropped the napkin to the table, knife and fork poised midair in his other hand. His eyes widened a little, and his mouth gaped before he snapped it closed again. “Ryan, man…” He looked at Ryan with sympathy and understanding. “Stop it, will you? I’m not going anywhere if I can help it, you know that.” “Yeah, I know. I just needed… Just wanted… Fuck, you know.” Heat burned Ryan’s cheeks. He felt like such a tosser now.

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“Yeah, I know.” Lee jabbed his knife and fork toward Ryan’s plate. “You ought to eat that cheese there before it curls up. Looks a bit rank, doesn’t it?” Ryan nodded. “Not the best sight I’ve seen today.” “Oh right. What’s the best then?” Lee speared a slice of cucumber, smiling. When Ryan didn’t answer, he said, “Come on. You obviously want this romance shite, so tell me, what’s the best sight you’ve seen today?” Ryan laughed, suddenly shy. This new side of Lee was hard to adjust to. It seemed their roles had reversed. “Your arse this morning.” “Very romantic. Yeah. You’re doing well, mate.” Laughing, Ryan jabbed his fork into a tomato quarter. “Fuck you.” “Fuck you too, man.” Lee chuckled, fork hovering beside his mouth. “Good job I know what you really mean, right?” “Yep.” Ryan popped the tomato in his mouth and chewed, swallowed. “This romance business. Isn’t gonna work, is it?”

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“Nope.” “Ah, fuck it.” “Yep, fuck it.” **** Lunch over, they walked along the beach, the part full of pebbles. Hard going on the soles of Ryan’s feet, but now he’d cleared his mind, realised what was up with him, it was a small price to pay. He was with Lee, and that was all that mattered. After they’d walked about half a mile and came to the sandy area, Lee turned to him and asked, “Fancy an ice cream?” It was hardly the weather for it, what with the bracing wind and the sudden cold snap in the air, but yeah, he fancied an ice cream. Who didn’t when on holiday? As far as Ryan was concerned, a holiday without an ice cream and good oldfashioned fish and chips wasn’t a holiday at all. A row of shops sat to their left, perched up there on the other side of the road that ran alongside the beach, old-fashioned ones that looked like they hadn’t changed in a hundred

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years. Their roofs dipped in the centres, some slates hanging on for dear life, close to giving up the ghost. They must have been houses years ago, before they became shops, and from the look of the upper windows, Ryan reckoned people lived up there in flats. He loved places like this, relatively unchanged by time. Probably why he loved living in Biddingford. It was much the same as here. Lee strode off towards the sea wall, grey rock maybe twenty foot high topped with an equally grey metal guardrail. Ryan watched him go. The wind whipped at Lee’s hair, and Ryan told himself he had to let go sometime, had to let Lee go off on his own. He couldn’t stick by his side forever, hoping to protect him from every little thing. A burst of wind swirled around him, and he wished he’d put on his beanie hat. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, balling them into fists to keep his fingertips warm. A small shiver rippled down his spine as Lee made it to the sloping path that led from the road to the beach. He climbed it then realised Ryan wasn’t with him, and turned to stare in his direction.

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“You coming?” Lee called, sand coiling around his shins from an angry gust of wind. “Nah. I’ll wait here.” “You all right?” Lee walked up the slope a bit, squinting at Ryan as though confused and trying to work out if he’d done something wrong. “Yeah. Go on. I’ll wait here.” Lee nodded slowly, perhaps digesting Ryan’s smiling face and coming to the conclusion everything was fine. He walked up the rest of the slope and ambled across the road, disappearing inside a newsagents. The sign above the door swung in the wind and, on the wall of the shop beside it, a barber’s candy cane-like tube spun quickly, the individual red-and-white stripes blurring to pink. Ryan lowered his head and toed the sand while he waited, the wet clumps dampening his beige suede boots. The sea roared behind him, loud swishes that almost masked the sound of screeching gulls, and he faced the water, intent on keeping his mind occupied while Lee was gone. It wouldn’t do for Ryan to worry about him, fretting for no reason. It wasn’t like Lee

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would get hurt here. Crossing that road would hardly get him killed. No bastard drove along it. White bubbly crests frosted with dirty brown crashed onto the beach, the spume rushing across the sand, inching close to his boots but retreating as though it dared not touch them. Ryan smiled and recalled going on holiday as a kid, when the sky was bright blue with no clouds and the sun raged, its heat burning his shoulders and neck. He’d dug the sand with a red plastic spade and filled the matching bucket, one shaped like a castle. God, it seemed so long ago, yet at the same time so recent. Where had the time gone? He recalled that one year where he’d created a whole town out of sand, a moat running around it and all, and some bastard kid with pasty white skin and orange freckles across the bridge of his nose had come stomping by and trampled the damn lot. He’d had fun back then, with Mum and Dad before their divorce, and all he’d wished for was that Lee could have been with them.

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Loved him even as a kid. Ryan smiled at the sound of footsteps slapping against the sand behind him and imagined Lee with an ice cream cone in each hand, maybe chopped nuts and strawberry sauce slathered on top. He swivelled, mouth curved in a bigger grin, hand outstretched to take a cone, then stopped abruptly. Lee wasn’t there. Someone else was. Someone tall and wide, with a face as flat as the bottom of an iron. Someone who shouldn’t have been on this empty beach, shouldn’t have even known Ryan and Lee were here. “What the fuck do you want?” Ryan asked, lowering his hand and bunching it into a fist, his heart stopping for a beat in shock. Anger from his old self rose up inside him. If this guy had come to cause trouble—and why else would he be here? Too much of a coincidence that he was—then Ryan was ready for it.

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WILDFIRE ~ Chapter Three Trevor sent me.” He stared hard at Ryan, his

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light blue eyes bordering on white. Damn freaky bastard. Wind from Ryan’s right slammed into them, and Harry Burgent—yeah, that was his name, Ryan remembered now—shunted sideways, righting himself quickly. His black hair, a floppy style that he sometimes put back in a low ponytail, blew around his head and face, cheeks visible through the individual strands. He’d always looked so odd, like he’d literally been flattened at birth. One of Trevor’s friends at

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school, Harry had gone down the same road as him and Greg. He’d been more of a bystander then, though, Ryan would give him that. Only a menacing threat when Trevor had been out of prison, but now, with Greg in the nick too after trying to off Lee… Trevor had clearly recruited Harry to do his work on the outside. What a fucking cock. Once again, as he did when Greg had shown up in Biddingford the night of the shooting, Ryan shook his head and wondered what the fuck these blokes thought they were up to. It was still hard for him to think of them as anything but the people who he went to school with. He’d known them since they were all five, for God’s sake. Seeing them like this, young blokes who acted like they were big-time gangsters, just made him want to laugh. But he couldn’t laugh, not after what Greg had done. These bastards meant business, and Ryan ought to start taking them seriously, no matter how ludicrous the idea of them being dangerous was. They were, and Ryan needed to

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accept it or fall foul of their warped actions. And they were warped all right. Going around with guns and threatening people just for the hell of it. For years, when Lee had still lived with his mum, even after they’d all left school, these fuckers taunted Lee when he went to the local shop on their housing estate. Lee’s mum used to send him on pointless errands, just to see if he’d do as he was told once he’d grown, Ryan reckoned. Trevor and his gang knew that. Top that with the fact Lee was gay, and Lee became a prime target. Their taunts had never bothered Ryan. Not when they were directed at him anyhow, but he’d always burned inside when Lee told him what they’d said to him. Called him faggot, queer, any damn derogatory name they could think of. Made Lee’s life hell. More hell to add to the life crap life he’d lived with his mum. Ryan sighed. “What does Trevor want now? Lee dead again? Is he pissed off ‘cos Greg didn’t do the job right?” Harry took a step forward, slipping his hands into his dark green parka pocket. Fuck. Did he have

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a gun now? Was he grasping the handle, finger curling around the trigger? Or did he have a knife? Ryan didn’t know, didn’t give much of a shit so long as Harry didn’t use them on him or Lee. He just wanted this bollocks to stop. For everything to just go the hell away so they could live in peace. Harry never answered. He continued to stare, hair writhing every which way. “Listen, Harry. Don’t you reckon you’re skating on thin ice here, mate? Trevor’s in the nick, Greg too, yet you’re here delivering a message to us. And fuck, d’you know what? You’re so intent on doing what Trevor says…didn’t you even question travelling all the way up here to find us?” Ryan sighed, Harry’s blank face shrouded in hair pissing him the fuck off. “And I’m guessing you went to Biddingford. Found out somehow where we’d gone.” Ryan thought of Josh. Shit. “How did you find out where we’d gone?” “Ways and means,” Harry said, clearly trying to sound mysterious. The holiday brochure and confirmation letter. They’re on the coffee table in the cabin.

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Motherfucker must have broken in and found it. Ryan wanted to laugh again. Whether it was fear or the ludicrousness of this situation, he didn’t know, but fuck him sideways, he’d had enough of this. “Look, mate. Just tell me what you want, yeah?” From his peripheral vision, he saw Lee coming out of the newsagents and waiting for a car to pass before casually crossing the road. Ryan made sure not to focus his sights behind Harry. If the guy didn’t know Lee was there… “Trevor wants you to refuse to give evidence at the trial. You and your fag boyfriend.” Harry rolled his shoulders and sniffed as though he smelled dog’s shit. “Oh right. And how are we meant to do that, eh? Lee was shot. He’s the damn victim. The police are pressing charges. Not Lee. Not me. We have no choice but to appear in court. It’s out of our hands, you dumb prick.” Rein your mouth in, man. Lee stood at the top of the slope, staring at them, ice cream cones held aloft, shock sending

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his face pale. Ryan hoped to God their special connection worked right now and that Lee would stay where he was. Keeping his main gaze on Harry, Ryan saw Lee drop the cones and reach inside his jacket. He brought out his mobile phone. Please don’t let Harry hear him talking. “Dumb prick?” Harry said, taking another step forward so only inches separated them. His creepy-as-hell eyes widened. “Who you calling a dumb prick?” He took his hands out of his pockets, gun in one of them, and lifted it, aiming at Ryan’s face. Ryan’s mind worked quickly, and he got ready to duck, but his body gave signs of not being able to comply with his mind’s wishes. His knees almost went from under him, and his guts rolled over. Arms and legs weakening through fear from staring at that damn black barrel, Ryan fought to remain upright. “Look,” he said. “It’s just a figure of speech, yeah?” He nodded at the gun, seeing Lee talking frantically into the phone. “No need for that, is there?” Pausing, he waited for some sign Harry

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was going to use the weapon. None came, so he ploughed on. “Think about it. Do you want to end up inside with Trevor and Greg?” A miniscule sign of indecision flicked across Harry’s face, but he continued to stare, those near-white eyes lacking emotion. His hair whipped across his face again, then lifted, pushed back by the harsh breeze, revealing a jagged scar on his long, wide forehead. Red and relatively new. Stitch marks a centimetre apart marching down its length. Jesus Christ, what the hell had Harry got himself into? “I won’t end up like them.” Harry glanced from side to side. “No one’s here. This place is in the arse end of nowhere. No one’s gonna see us. From the shops back there, it’ll just look like two men talking. I know. I checked from all angles before I came down onto the beach. And your queer bloke’ll be a while. There was a queue in the newsagents.” Fuck me. He’s been watching us. Following us by the sounds of it. “So, you want me to ask the police if we can back out, then, right?” Stall him. Keep him talking.

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Lee remained on the phone, glancing along the road as though watching for the police. “That’s the long and short of it, yeah. You reckon you can manage to do that without fucking up?” Harry flicked off the gun’s safety catch. “Or do you need a little more persuading?” This was nuts. Absolutely fucking nuts. Ryan wanted to shake his head at how surreal and weird this was, but refrained. Harry might think he was denying his request. How in the hell had their life come to this? How had a group of kids turned into a group of hard men? And their reasoning for hating Lee and Ryan was all due to them being gay. Why the hell did it matter to these guys what they were? What was their problem? It’s not like we want to fuck their arses. “I don’t need any persuasion,” Ryan said, the white blur of a cop car filling the road. Two police officers got out and stared at Ryan from behind the guardrail, eyes wide upon seeing a gun trained on him. The poor bastards had probably never been in a situation like this in their whole career so far. Like Harry had said,

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this was the arse end of nowhere, and sod all went down in a place like this. Ryan smiled at Harry, meeting his gaze dead on. Abruptly, he lifted his knee, sinking it into Harry’s groin, then thumped the side of his aggressor’s wrist as the bastard bent at the waist in pain. He landed an uppercut on Harry’s cheek, and the guy went sprawling backward, the gun flying out of his hand to land on the beach. The officers raced down the slope, on Harry in seconds, flipping him onto his front and yanking his arms behind him. Ryan closed his eyes and exhaled through pursed lips. His body went limp, refusing to support him, and he slumped to his knees, the dampness from the sand seeping through his jeans. The tinkle of cuffs sounded sweet, but Lee’s voice sounded sweeter as it whispered into his ear. “You all right, mate? Fuck. You all right?” Strong arms went around him, supporting his upper body as it teetered on falling sideways. He nodded, keeping his eyes closed for a few seconds longer. When his equilibrium had almost

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returned, he opened them to see the policemen hauling Harry to his feet, their voices a rumble. He couldn’t differentiate what they said from the roaring sea behind him—both sounds merged— but he hoped they were reading Harry his rights. By fuck he hoped for that. The cops marched Harry up the slope, and one called back, “Be with you in a second!” Ryan nodded, nausea settling in his gullet, and looked up at Lee, who had hunkered down beside him. “Come on, up you get,” Lee said, helping Ryan to stand. He stared at him, face pinched and drawn. “Shits the life out of you when you see that gun, doesn’t it?” Ryan nodded again, the lump in his throat stopping him from answering. He hiked in a deep breath, leaning into Lee’s chest and resting his forehead on the other’s shoulder. Yes, it had shit the life out of him. And now he understood why Lee had changed since he’d been shot. Ryan’s one glimpse at a terror just as big as he’d felt when he’d seen a similar gun pointed at Lee, had shown him that all the insignificant things he’d ever

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whinged at just weren’t important. Not versus losing his life. He should have known that already. Should have realised how precious life was well before now, but it took that gun barrel being aimed just then for him to fully understand. People hated him and Lee for what they were, and that was damn fine. But he was fucked if this lot were going to get away with keep on hating, keep on persecuting. This gang of freaks were going down. He’d make sure of it. **** Back in their hotel room, situated in an old Tudor-like house sitting on a cliff about a mile outside the village, Ryan nestled against Lee’s side. They were fully clothed on top of the bed, having flopped there after coming back from the police station. The cops spoke to them as though fascinated that such a startling event had happened in their sleepy village, and Ryan supposed it would appear a drastic incident to those unused to such things. But Ryan and Lee originally hailed from a sterner place, growing up

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where someone being stabbed and mugged for a tenner made the news nightly. Although used to hearing about crimes like that, knowing they happened right on his doorstep ever since he could remember, Ryan wasn’t best pleased at being involved in newsworthy situations. No. One thing to hear it on the radio or see it on the damn news, but being the star of the show was different altogether. He stared at the ceiling of their semi-dark room, night arriving now. The time had passed so slowly at the police station, and if he’d guessed right, he was sure the police took their time so they could relish this bit of excitement. Lee’s arm tightened around him, and Ryan hugged his lover closer, one arm draped across the other’s stomach. They hadn’t really spoken. Hadn’t discussed what had happened on the beach beyond shaking their heads and muttering short sentences. Maybe it was time they did. Talked about Lee’s shooting too. It would clear a shit load of worry off their shoulders and leave them with a clear head for the trial. A trial that would grow longer now,

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possibly be put back because of Harry bloody Burgent. Ryan opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. If Lee hadn’t spoken about it all up to now, did it mean he didn’t want to? Couldn’t? Could Ryan press him, demand they talk about it? No, I can’t. I wouldn’t want to pressure him into something he doesn’t want. We don’t work like that. Never have, really. “I fucking hate Harry right now,” Lee said, the rumble of his voice transferring through Ryan’s cheek. “Those blokes. They’re sick in the head. Always have been when you think back.” “I know.” Keep talking, Lee. “I mean, who the fuck do they think they are?” He huffed out a breath. “According to them, we’re just a couple of queers, worth nothing, yet we’re obviously worth something for them to keep on at us like this.” “Yup.” More. Tell me more. “And I was thinking, you know. This shit we’ve been through, what we’re going through,

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it’s like something out of a damn film. I mean, what the fuck? Who the bloody hell goes around like they do, thinking they can get away with it? Shit!” He let out a wry laugh. “And what do we do when it’s all over? When they’re all locked up for a pissy amount of time? Move away? Start again, living in peace for a bit until they get out or Trevor sends some other bastard to find us?” He laughed again, louder this time, bordering on hysterics. Ryan clutched him tighter, letting him laugh it the hell out. Whatever it took for his man to feel better. After a few seconds, Lee’s laughter tapered off, his breaths coming short and sharp. Ryan listened to the sounds filtering from downstairs and outside. Pots and pans clattering, dinner dishes being put away. The creak of another resident walking the landing outside their room. Gulls squawking, snatching the last remnants of food from the beach, or maybe bread crusts from the kitchen here, before full darkness came and they nested wherever the hell they nested overnight. He wondered if they’d pecked at the ice cream cones yet.

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His stomach rumbled, and he propped himself up on one elbow, staring at Lee in the gloom, trying to make out his features. “You hungry?” Lee cleared his throat. “Yeah. You?” “A bit.” “Want to go out and get something?” Lee ran the back of one finger down Ryan’s cheek. “Could do.” “What d’you fancy?” “You, but fish and chips will do.” “Trying that romantic shit again, are we?” “Trying and failing.” “Damn fucking right you failed.” Lee lifted his head, offering his lips. Ryan bent his and brushed the other’s mouth with a soft kiss. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?” “Nope. I like laughing at your attempts. You might get it right one day. Shock the shit out of me if you did, though.” “Cheeky bastard.” Ryan got up and stretched beside the bed. “Come on then. If I can’t have you, I want chips.” He reached toward the chair for his jacket.

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Lee rolled across the bed and gripped Ryan’s wrist, drawing him back onto the mattress. “Fuck the chips,” he said, pulling Ryan on top of him. “Can’t fuck chips.” Ryan tried to hide his smile. “Then fuck me.”

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WILDFIRE ~ Chapter Four Ryan crushed his lips against Lee’s, clutching his man’s head, fingers sinking into his hair. He held him rigid, a sudden need to fuck hard and fast taking over him. It was probably the fright he’d had, but Ryan just wanted a quick connection, a frantic coupling that erased everything but what they were doing for the time it took to do it. Lee clutched Ryan’s ass as they kissed, pushing their erections together, and Ryan groaned deep in his throat. Lee wanted him just as much, then. Ryan ground circles into Lee’s pelvis, the friction of his jeans on his cock painful yet

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pleasurable at the same time. Wrenching his mouth away, he shifted to Lee’s side and began taking off his lover’s T-shirt, pushing it up his chest with jerky movements. He wanted Lee naked, them both naked, skin on skin. Lee took over undressing himself, and Ryan stripped out of his own clothing, tossing them wherever they fell. With them both naked, Ryan straddled Lee’s legs, reaching beside him for the belt on Lee’s jeans. He pulled it from the loopholes, staring down at Lee, asking the silent question of whether he wanted his usual favourite binding. Lee nodded, lifting his arms and positioning his wrists together. Ryan slid the belt around them, tying it tight and easing those wrists to the bed above Lee’s head. Staring down at him, Ryan took in the sight, lust swelling his cock further and making his balls ache. He had the urge to sink himself into Lee’s ass, but they had yet to venture into the unknown. Neither of them knew whether they would like it, who would be a top or bottom, or whether they’d both enjoy it and pump the other’s ass every time they fucked. They had no lube,

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nothing to help Ryan’s cock slide into virgin territory, and the mood he was in, it probably wasn’t a good idea to try it right now. He’d push inside too quickly. Still, he needed tightness, and he whispered, “Suck me.” Not a question but an order, one he needed to give to make Lee understand how Ryan wanted it tonight. Lee nodded, and Ryan scooted up Lee’s body, each knee settled beside Lee’s chest. His cock throbbed with the anticipation of what was to come, and he bit his bottom lip to hold off the burning sensation growing at his base. Reaching across, he grabbed his pillows and placed them on top of Lee’s, elevating the other’s head into a prime position for his mouth to take his cock. With Lee’s arms stretched up like that, his wrists bound and fingers entwined, hands making a giant fist, Ryan almost lost it. Ryan gripped the headboard and manoeuvred so the tip of his cock butted Lee’s lips. “Suck me. Hard. Fuck, I need it hard.” Lee dashed his tongue out over his lips then opened his mouth. Ryan plunged inside, fucking

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that wet cavity. Lee created suction, pulling hard, and the tightness Ryan craved clamped around him. He looked down, watching his cock glide in and out of those lips that had kissed him and taken all his ills away. Romance fled out the window and wanton lust took its place. Driven by his desires, knowing by Lee closing his eyes to half mast that his lover enjoyed this as much as him, he fucked that mouth until red-hot tingles shot up his shaft and his balls throbbed. Sweat dripped down his temples, and his ass cheeks clenched every time he pushed inside. Lee sucked harder—God did he suck harder—and his breaths shunted out of his nose, the whisper of them cooling Ryan’s damp cock each time he pulled back. “You like that?” Ryan panted out, driving his cock deep so it touched the back of Lee’s throat. Lee nodded, sucked harder. “Yeah. You. Fucking. Like. That.” Ryan groaned, gripped the headboard tighter, nails scraping against the wood. “You gonna come? You gonna come hard and fast like me?”

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Lee nodded again, the sound of his moan loud, the rumble of it seeping into Ryan’s cock. Lee’s eyes opened and closed languidly, and he moved beneath Ryan, writhing, clearly needing friction on his cock. “You want me to suck you? Want me to suck you until you come?” Ryan pumped on, struggling to hold back his orgasm. At Lee’s third nod, Ryan pulled out and quickly changed position, his lips at Lee’s cock. He sunk his lover’s erection deep into his mouth at the same time he lowered his shaft between Lee’s lips. It was too much, too much to handle, and he savoured the sensation of Lee sucking, reminding him of the first time they’d fucked like this, when he’d arrived in Biddingford to bring Lee some news. Lee had his wrists tied with a belt then too, and fuck had Ryan loved every minute of it. Raw passion gripped him, and he dragged his mouth up and down Lee’s length, his tongue flat against it. The vein in Lee’s cock pulsed, flickered beneath Ryan’s touch, and Ryan worked harder, faster, showing Lee how he wanted his own cock

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treated. The heady scent of sex filled the room, adding to Ryan’s excitement. He pictured Lee’s bound wrists, his fingers squeezing in that big fist, and he lost control. A muffled grunt left him as his cum spewed into Lee’s mouth, and he sucked on, tasting Lee’s pre-cum a second before his man’s ejaculation filled Ryan’s mouth. Ryan swallowed, then his mouth filled again, his own second ejaculation jetting out of him so fast it hurt. He slowed, waiting for more from Lee, which came in three smaller bursts. Ryan expelled a third, the ache and sensations in his cock bringing on a whimper. He released his suction on Lee, lifting his head to give his lover one last pull before licking the tip clean. Ryan eased himself out of Lee’s mouth, his cock and balls on fire, and settled himself beside him. They kissed, tasting themselves, Ryan cocooned in Lee’s arms. He draped one leg over his lover’s, bringing him closer, his still-pulsing cock pressed to the side of Lee’s thigh. Breaking the kiss, Ryan laid his head on Lee’s shoulder, and together they rested in silence as

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they came down from their high, only moving when hunger pains growled inside them. **** They made it to the fish and chip shop much later, just before closing time. Sitting outside on a wooden bench behind the guardrail at the sandy part of the beach, Ryan popped chips into his mouth, savouring the salt and vinegar coating them. You couldn’t beat fish and chips from beside the sea. Restaurants inland just didn’t get it right; their food didn’t taste the same. “Fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled around a mouth full of chips. “Why thanks. Nice of you to say so.” Lee’s chip paper rustled. Ryan turned to look at him. “I meant the sodding chips.” “Aww, and there was me thinking you meant me.” He lifted a chip and put it in his mouth. “I…you know I think that way about you. I don’t need to say it.” Ryan broke his piece of fish in half and bit into the crispy batter on one end. He’d play Lee at his own bloody game.

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“I know. Just kidding.” He chuckled, as if he’d thought of something amusing, then said soberly, “Oi, you. So, does that mean you’ve given up on trying the sweet talk?” “Yep. It isn’t your thing. Isn’t our thing. You said so. We know it.” “And… Hang on a minute! You cheeky shit! If you don’t need to say it, is that you telling me we’re well and truly like them old gits who stop trying?” Ryan swallowed and kept a straight face. “Something like that. You don’t see couples who’ve been together a long time spouting endearments and shit like that, do you? They just know how the other feels without having to say.” “Yeah, but…” Lee held a chip halfway to his mouth and stared at Ryan. “That means…” Ryan couldn’t contain his laughter. “Ah, so you want romance too then, yeah?” Lee narrowed his eyes and failed at hiding a grin that showed he knew he’d been caught out. “Well, not romance as such, but… Fuck, never hearing you tell me stuff again? That’s just not right, is it?”

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“So, in other words, you’d like a bit of romance, yeah? Be honest.” Lee visibly struggled with trying not to admit it. “Fuck off.” “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” “Take it whatever way you like.” “Love you, man.” “Fucking love you too.” **** They had slept in on this somewhat cold but sunny Sunday morning, then took a walk to the beach, to the same spot where Harry had appeared. It was an unspoken thing, that they go there. Like revisiting would slay the demons. For Ryan, it did. A little anyway. And Lee appeared more relaxed once they’d arrived, staring at the sand, the scuffs from yesterday’s tussle smoothed away by the sea’s incessant caress overnight. Maybe they’d always attract danger. Maybe that was the price they’d have to pay for being together. Who knew? Perhaps when the judge or jury had convicted those bastards, things would return to some sense of normality. And perhaps they

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wouldn’t. Either way, Ryan vowed they’d get through their shit together, their relationship growing stronger from them having been through so much. He took Lee’s hand and guided him along the beach, neither of them speaking until they reached a line of uneven, sea-soiled logs set up as breakers. Pebbles, thick layers of them, spread out either side of the breakers. Ryan stopped walking and stared at the logs, their moss-covered bark a curious shade of greens and deep blues. Tiny limpets clung onto them, white dots that looked like freckles. He imagined those slim logs as sections of his life. The first few were perfectly in line, all uniform, not a thing out of place, much the same as his childhood. Then in the middle they lurched like drunks, leaning precariously, some almost toppling over. Yeah, they mimicked his life. A smooth start and now the ups and downs, but he was fucked if he’d be like that log there, the one that lay flat, having given up the fight against the continual battering of the sea. No, he’d stand tall, he knew that. Wouldn’t get jealous over Josh—there was no damn need to. Wouldn’t worry that Lee was going to leave

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him. After all, they were fully fledged romantics now, weren’t they? He smiled at that and studied the logs further along. After the middle few, the rest stood up straight again, doing so right into the distance where he couldn’t see them clearly. If he believed in shit like this, he’d say it was a sign. That they just had to get through the bollocks up ahead and then everything would be all right. “It’ll be all right, you know,” Lee said, squeezing his hand. Christ. There he goes again. Reading my mind. Lee kicked at a pebble, its shiny wet surface catching the light of a sun struggling to penetrate through heavy-bellied grey clouds. “I know we haven’t talked about it all properly, and maybe we should, but once we’ve…once they’ve been put down for a stretch… You know, Trevor and the others…” He sighed, a big gust that inflated his cheeks. A light breeze ruffled his hair. He continued toeing the pebble, flipping it over to reveal a bottom covered in damp sand. Squeezing Ryan’s hand rhythmically, he said, “Just know it’ll be all right. We’ll be all right, yeah?”

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Ryan nodded and turned from Lee to stare at the logs for a bit. Until he felt Lee watching him. Waiting for him to say something. Open up and express how he felt. Or even for him to say something simple, something Lee obviously longed to hear. That yes, it would be all right. He looked into Lee’s eyes and saw so much love there, so much romance bursting to come out, and he smiled. “Yeah, it’ll be all right, my beautiful love.” “Beautiful love?” Lee widened his eyes and chuckled. “What the fuck?” Ryan laughed so hard he bent over. Would they ever get to the point where endearments came easily and they didn’t feel so damn stupid saying them? Or would they go on like they were now, skirting around it, making it all a big joke? He reckoned they would, and that was fine, because even though they weren’t actually saying it, they knew. Just by messing about they knew.

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SHIMMER ~ Chapter One - Lee Standing here looking out of our cliff-top hotel window this cloudy, Norfolk Monday morning makes me feel like I don’t want to go home. If we go home, I have to face shit I don’t want to face. The trial, for one thing, but also the emotions that’ll go with it. Will I cope relating every damn thing that happened the night I got shot? It’s inevitable that giving evidence will be like opening a can of worms. Everything Trevor and his gang have ever done to me might spill out. And because of what I am, a queer, as Trevor puts it, the events in my childhood might also come into play. Do I

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want to tell everyone in that courtroom that my own mother hated my guts because I’m gay? That she knew, right from me being a little kid that I was different? Odd. Not what she wanted. Wrong. It’s not easy to admit this kind of stuff to myself, let alone strangers. Yeah, I know it’s going to be tough, didn’t need the police to give me that nugget of information, but shit, will it be too tough, you know? Will I even be able to keep it together? The last thing I want is to break down in front of those ingrates—Trevor, Greg, and Harry. They’re the ones who caused us so much shit. The ones who thought nothing of stepping over the line from bullies to outright criminals. Ryan’s still sleeping behind me. His breathing sounds so steady, like he’s at peace in a dreamscape somewhere. A place where no one can hurt him. I wish that was always so. That in our life together I could protect him from being hurt, shield him from the shit that has tainted me ever since I can remember. There are times when I wonder if him being with me is the right thing. Don’t get me wrong, I know he’s the bloke for me, and he says I’m

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the one for him, but fuck, since we’ve been together, he’s had nothing but hassle. He’s always been my protector, trying to shield me from the taunts Trevor and his gang threw my way at school and then later, after we left, when we saw them out on the streets. Moving to Biddingford was meant to solve that, among other things, but life saw fit to send the taunts after me. You know, Trevor’s threat that night in our old town, when he pointed his gun at me and told me not to return, was enough to make me listen. To comply. I didn’t intend going back, and wouldn’t have if my old dear hadn’t topped herself. Returning “home” for the funeral—I couldn’t not go, could I? Despite the old bitch raising me with her unique brand of spitefulness, I had to go back and send her off to Hell or wherever the fuck else bad people go. Had no choice. And Trevor, in prison for aggravated assault and threats with a weapon, had told his cronies to keep an eye out for me. They’d done that all right, starting their shit in The Ragged Sigh, a pub me and Ryan had

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stopped in to sink a few pints before going on to the wake. I wince, recalling what happened after that. I don’t like thinking about it, don’t like remembering. But the thoughts come, marching through my mind like recalcitrant children who just don’t know when to quit while they’re ahead. Greg, Trevor’s right-hand man, had come to our cabin in Biddingford, tainted the place just by being there, if I’m honest. And he held a gun pointed at me, making it clear Trevor still had influence over my life even if he was in the nick. Greg had shot me. Fucking shot me! Then only yesterday, another of Trevor’s pals had turned up, followed us here on our weekend break, to try and get us to keep our mouths shut during the trial. That was the third time a gun had appeared, and let me tell you, it was bad enough when they’d been pointed at me, but seeing it pointed at Ryan… Fuck. It’s so damn difficult to keep my emotions on an even keel, know what I mean? It’s like…I’m up one minute and down the next, but I don’t want Ryan to know. I want him happy, to

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not worry about me, so I’ve developed this new side of me. Coincides with me being shot and looks as though I got stronger because of the ordeal. That I’m damn grateful to be alive and no bastard’s gonna stop me living my life now. No way, fuckers! No stopping me. But it’s all bullshit. All of it. Ryan shifts, the sound of the covers rustling against his body almost making me turn around and get back into bed with him. I resist turning, resist taking a peek at the one person I love more than anyone else on earth. He’s my damn life now. I couldn’t live without him. There’s a lighthouse out there. A big white bugger with a completely glass top. It’s on the tip of the cliff, alone, standing rigid against the incessant winds that push it. That wind’s howling, shoving this window, and I can’t help but think that lighthouse is like me. But I’m not alone, am I? Not really. Not when I have Ryan by my side. Yet at times I am. A bloke who can’t share his feelings for one reason or another, whether it’s because of my childhood or just the way I am, I don’t know. Might be a bit of both.

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The lighthouse calls. It did yesterday too, when I caught a glimpse of it as we returned to the hotel last night after our fish and chip feast. The beam had flashed, streaking across the sea, a swathe of brightness only for a second until it revolved and lit the cliff top instead. And so it went on, repeat, repeat, repeat. Mesmerising. I’d wanted to go to it, to stand beside its magnitude and stare out at the choppy waves, maybe spot a boat as the light coasted across the water. But Ryan was tired, and really, how mental would I have sounded, asking if he’d mind us walking there? With a sigh, I move from the window and shirk on my jacket, giving in to the pull. I scribble Ryan a note and leave it on the bedside cabinet. Just a short one telling him I’ve gone for a walk, need a bit of time alone. He’ll understand. He always does. Outside on the landing, I head past a row of doors, wondering who sleeps behind them, what their lives are like. Do they have similar things to us going on? I mean, I know not everyone gets shot and threatened, but what I’m thinking is:

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Does everyone have issues they carry around with them their whole life, or are there some lucky bastards out there who have it relatively easy? I reckon they do. And how is that? The fact that some folks just don’t know the half of it is alien to me. Sighing, I take the creaky stairs, the carpet on them resembling something a cat sicked up, all random blotches in many shades of brown. Looks like it’s been down since the eighties, along with the anaglyptic wallpaper painted a gaudy mustard yellow. Still, despite the decoration, this is a nice hotel. Quiet, homely, the staff pleasant and seemingly happy to leave their guests alone for the most part. Who wants to go away for a long weekend with pushy hotel owners hanging around your arse for feedback? A young girl runs reception, her long blonde hair falling forward as she reads the Sunday rag, her face cupped in her hand, elbow on the desk. She glances up as I walk toward the main double doors, gives a smile then returns to reading. I push the door, and it swings outward, a gust of wind trying to push it back at me. Outside, the

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door slamming closed with a violent thud behind me, I stare out at the grassy expanse of cliff top. The lighthouse, there it is ahead, asking me to come for a visit. I know why I want to go there. That lone building represents a beacon in the darkness, that light the one thing sailors long to see when they’re battling the unruly waves. A port in a storm, a warning that rocks loom ahead. Hands in my pockets and head down, I walk out of the hotel grounds—manicured gardens with an apple tree each side of the gravelled path—and out onto the cliff top. The wind batters my head, whips my hair every which way, but the slap of it is welcome. It wakes me up, makes me alert, and I press on, determined to find some solace. It takes longer to reach the lighthouse than I’d imagined, but standing beside it now, seeing how huge it is, gives me some kind of perspective on my life. It reminds me of Ryan, sturdy and unbending, always there when things get tough. I glance back at the hotel, a speck in the distance now, and wonder if he’s woken and found my note yet. Sensed I’m not in bed beside him.

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Turning to face the lighthouse, I take in the building adjoining it, the living quarters of the lighthouse master, I imagine. The curtains are closed at every window, and there’s an abandoned feel to the place, like no one is at home behind those walls. And maybe there isn’t. They might have gone to church in the village down the way. Maybe, right now, they’re listening to another villager telling the news of Harry and his gun, of the two holidaymakers who were followed here by some lunatic. Fuck. Me and Ryan, the subject of discussion. I sigh and walk toward the cliff edge, standing far enough back that a gust of wind from behind won’t propel me over the edge and onto the rocks below. There’s a bench here, wooden and weathered, the dark green paint peeling. If it belongs to the lighthouse keeper, I’ve just got to hope he doesn’t mind me sitting on it, because I need to rest my legs a while before going back to the hotel. Rest and think. The whoosh of the sea is reassuring, like its continual tides tell me that even though the waves might get choppy before they calm, they’re

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always moving, always working to a cycle. And that’s the same as life, isn’t it? We constantly go about our day-to-day business, and whether the storms come or not, we battle on, trying to get through. The sun, weak as its light is up there, tries to penetrate the clouds, a warm burst of it touching my face as it manages to break through. It fades away again, a grey-bellied cloud passing over it and staying put, and I kind of know what that feels like. I want to shine. I want to break through this darkness, this barrier, but until the trial is over, I reckon I’m stuck where I am. In limbo, a static place where on the outside I’m happy, but on the inside I’m scared shitless, forever propelled back to the past inside my mind where the demons still roam. A shuffle sounds beside me, and I glance over my left shoulder toward the noise. An old man has left the curtained building, draws near, his ambling walk saying more about the state of his ageing body than he would probably like to admit. Damn, he must be about eighty if he’s a day. I press my palms against the seat to push

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myself standing, to get off his bench, off his property. He raises a hand, flapping it as if to tell me to sit back down, and I do. He reaches me, all wrinkled face and gnarled knuckles, a thick black padded coat covering his spindly frame. Long white hair dances about his head, thin and wispy, and he reminds me of some bloke I saw in a kids’ film once. A wizard. In one of the Harry Potter flicks? I mentally shrug—who the fuck cares which film it was?—and offer him an apologetic smile as he reaches the bench and sits beside me. He doesn’t say a word, just looks ahead, rheumy blue eyes maybe staring at the sea, or perhaps images playing inside his head. I don’t feel awkward, you know. Don’t feel like I ought to get up and leave him in peace. It’s weird, but it’s almost as though I was meant to come here and have him sitting beside me. I stare ahead, content with no conversation or explanation as to why I’m here. After a time he asks, “You got some troubles, eh, lad?” He links his fingers together on his lap.

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I turn to look at him, find him gazing at me with a curious look in his eyes—one that makes me feel he’s seen a shitload of grief in his time and recognises a lost soul when he sees one. Am I a lost soul? Am I really? Can I be when I have Ryan? I nod. “Well,” he says, sniffing. “We all have times like that, lad. T’ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, to not know where to turn, you know. Everyone has the wind knocked out of their sails at times— pardon the play on words.” He chuckles, and his eyes water, a single tear streaking down his cheek. “Once upon a time I was just like you. Burnin’ up inside, scared shitless. Aye, we all get those times, so we do, but life has a way of workin’ so you can iron out the kinks. Move on. Sort things out. I spent most of my life ponderin’ the whys and wherefores, seekin’ resolutions to things, forcin’ them to come. And then, as I got older, when I was either too tired to make things happen faster or I just plain didn’t have the energy, I saw that life works your crap out for you, if only you’d give it time.” He runs his finger

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beneath his nose then holds it up midair. “Ah. I’ve forgotten what else it was I wanted to say.” I laugh quietly, sensing I don’t have to say anything, that he doesn’t expect me to explain why I’m here or what’s on my mind. “Oh yes,” he says. “I remember now.” He reaches out a hand and grips my forearm. “Everyone is special, son. Everyone. Doesn’t matter what no one says to the contrary. Even the bad people have a bit of goodness in them. Those of us who go through more shit than a body has a right to go through, well, it may not seem fair that we’re put through the wringer, but it bloody builds character and makes life entertainin’. How many people can boast, when the end comes and them pearly gates open to let us in, that they lived a life chock full of ups and downs, barely a moment to catch their breath in between? Better than being bored, son, I’ll tell you that much. And if you have someone to share the crap with, all the better. When you have no one, time drags its arse like a worm-riddled dog.”

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SHIMMER ~ Chapter Two - Lee A pregnant pause lingers, one where I wait for him to either go on or sit quietly. He takes his hand off my arm and laces his fingers again, nodding as he looks out to sea, as though he’s satisfied with what he’s said and I’ve understood what he meant. I do, in a way, but I’m not quite sure that he’s got across exactly what he wanted. Is he saying that having a life full of crap is better than one where everything goes to plan and runs smoothly? I could do with a bit of smooth; reckon a quiet patch is long overdue. Maybe I’ve got him all wrong.

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“I know what you’re thinkin’.” He nods again, moving his lips like he has dentures that are giving him gyp. “You’re thinkin’: What does he know? Some old bastard tellin’ me I should be grateful when the shit hits the fan. Well, that’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you, lad, because when the shit’s been cleaned up, and the good times roll in, you’d better believe you appreciate them more than you would if you hadn’t had the troubles on your doorstep. Think about it. If everythin’ went smooth as silk, you’d never learn nothin’, would you? Never appreciate jack shit.” I know what he’s saying, know he means well, but he hasn’t got a clue what I’ve endured. What Ryan’s endured. “I’ve had some damn rough times,” he says, sucking in his bottom lip then releasing it. “Lived a full life. Been in wars. Seen people die in front of me, and there weren’t nothin’ I could do to stop the madness. And when I came home, got settled back into civvy life, got myself a wife and we had our bairn, I got to see that I hadn’t had darkness in my life at all up until then.” He blinks several

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times. “Oh, it was darkness, in the war, just wasn’t the darkest time. Not by a long shot. No.” I frown, trying to imagine what could be more horrific than fighting in a war and seeing death all around you. I know I’ve been shot, seen what I’ve seen, lived what I’ve lived, but being out there in the trenches just doesn’t compare to my life. “We lived for a time, all of us together. My wife, my son, me. They were happy times, lad. The ones I appreciated after the shit. But I didn’t appreciate them enough. If I knew then what was coming, I’d have taken more notice of everything my wife and son did. Listened more. Loved them more. But we don’t, do we, eh? No, we don’t. We still gripe and moan, even when things are good, and forget how bad it was before.” He sniffs again, cuffs his nose. A tear rolls down his face, and I’m unsure whether it’s due to emotion or the cold wind making them leak. “We lived in the city, we did. City in Scotland. Highland folk, we were. I still am, deep in this old heart.” He absently pats his chest. “I was out workin’ one day. Havin’ a bad day as I recall. Gripin’ and moanin’ about this and that. Fellas

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not doin’ their jobs properly, makin’ my life more difficult because they were just bein’ damn lazy. I was a foreman, see. Foreman of a brewery. Oversaw the workers, made sure everythin’ ran like clockwork. And I’m complainin’, really grumblin’ to myself, and my boss, he comes over to me and says: Percy, you’ve got a couple of visitors in my office. You need to come. Now.” The tone of his voice has me waiting on pins and needles as to what he’s going to say next. It’s like the air has changed, turned thick and cloying, and I’m tempted to get up and walk away. I don’t want to hear it, what he has to say, but something sticks me to the bench so I can’t get up. The need to let him talk it out? I don’t know, but I stay where I am and brace myself. It’s going to be bad, I just know it. “I went on up to that office and saw two men there, suited and booted, their faces tellin’ me I needed to sit the hell down and listen to what they had to say. And I sat, heard what they said, my mind screamin’ that things weren’t meant to go this way, that I’d done my stint in life where I’d seen more horrors than anyone had any business

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seein’. But life threw some more at me that day, and as they left that office, me walkin’ behind them in a daze, I wondered whether I’d get through the next hour or two let alone the rest of my life.” He pauses for a beat. “Some soldier I knew in the war, he came back, mind crazed with what he’d seen. As I’d left for work that day, my wife wavin’ at me from the doorstep, my boy perched on her hip, he’d watched us. Waited until I was out of sight before knockin’ on my front door. He thought my wife was his, see. Thought my son was his too, crazy as he was, and that I’d visited them, was going to take them away from him. Neighbours reported that they’d heard my Beryl screamin’ that she wasn’t married to him, that he should get out before she called the police, but they never went round to check on her. Never picked up the phone themselves. And he hung them. Hung them with the rope I kept under the kitchen sink. From the banisters. Then he shot himself.” Fuck me. I’m speechless. Don’t have a fucking clue what to say to that. What is there to say? No words can take it back, make it so it never happened. Nothing I can mutter will change a

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damn thing. Jesus. I feel sick, lost, not knowing what to do. “So you see, son, if you’re thinking life can’t get any worse, think again. When whatever troubles you is over, enjoy the calm in between. You might have had your worst already, might never have to go through anything more now, but just in case, you hold on to whoever it is who warms your bed and heart, and be grateful you’re still around to tell the tale. I’m here, but I wish I damn well wasn’t. Been many a time I’ve tried to take my own life. Never did take another woman either. Spent these years alone up here, wonderin’ when my time is, when I can be released from this thing we call a life. But I have my memories, they keep me goin’, and when I do finally kick the bucket, I’ll get to see my family again.” He chuckles, hiding a sob. “I’ve just got to wait, is all. But you? You’ll get through. You got someone, have you?” I nod, thinking of Ryan and trying to imagine being told someone hung him and that I’d never see him again. A lump fills my throat, and I can’t look at this old man any longer. The pain etched

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on his face is too much. The tears in his eyes are too much. “I…” That’s all I can manage before my own tears fall. “Don’t need to say nothin’, lad.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t need to know your business. But you take it from me. Get back to that person you love and enjoy every moment.” He stands and, as though sent to make me see, to make me be grateful for what I do have, he walks away, back to the little building and a life behind closed drapes. “Thank you,” I croak, watching him go. He reaches the front door and pushes it open, raising a hand before disappearing inside. Shit. The lump in my throat gets bigger, and I face the sea again, trying to digest the surrealism of this moment. What are the odds of this happening, eh? Damn, there might be something to it when people say there are angels here on earth, sent to cross your path when you need them most. Suddenly panicked, I jump up and start running back toward the hotel. I need to see Ryan, make sure he’s still there and not hanging from

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the damn banisters outside our hotel room. I know he won’t be, know my mind’s working in a crazy way, but I continue to run all the same. The hotel seems too far away, a fragment in the distance that I wish was right in front of me, right now. But it isn’t, so I plough on, my lungs bursting and my eyes itching. I want to cry, really cry, great gutwrenching sobs that hurt my throat and get every damn bit of upset out of me. A purging that cleanses my soul and cleans out my mind. Closer, closer now, I stumble on a bit of uneven ground and fall forward, hands outstretched to break my fall. I land hard, pain springing up in my wrists, lightning bursts exploding in my knees. And I can’t get up. Even though I want to rise and run again, my body’s refusing to play ball. It’s like my mind is so full of fright that my brain can’t send the message to my legs that they need to move, to make me stand. Angry, I grip the grass in my fists and pull it out of the ground, rising up and throwing the clumps as hard as I can. A livid snarl leaves me, one that doesn’t sound like it could ever belong to me, and I let the tears fall. Teeth gritted, fists bunched, I

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close my eyes and cry it all out. The anger, the frustration, the unfairness of life. What that old bloke told me swirls inside my head, giving me the energy to get up and walk forward, back to the one I hold dear. Without Ryan I’m nothing—don’t think I could go on like that man back there if something happened to him. I don’t want to go on without him. The hotel draws nearer, my steps steadier now, the sobs lessening the further I walk. I reach the hotel grounds and stand at the end of the path leading to the front doors. Glancing up at our window, I see Ryan standing there, his chest bare, his eyes narrowed as he looks down at me. He frowns, clearly worried, and I wonder what I must look like. Snotty nosed and red-eyed, I imagine. He’ll know something’s up. I won’t be able to hide it now, and I’m not sure I want to. He deserves to know what’s going on in my head. He opens the window, pushing it up and leaning his head and torso out. “You all right?” he calls, concern written all over his face. “I am now I’m back,” I say, eager to get inside and into that bedroom.

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“Where have you been? I woke and you weren’t here. Saw your note. I was worried, man.” He smiles to take the interrogational edge from his words. “I went to that lighthouse,” I say, jerking my thumb over my shoulder and wondering why the fuck I’m still standing here. “I’m coming up.” Jogging up the path, I shove through the doors and head for the stairs, the need to take them two at a time a force inside me. The blonde receptionist looks up from the desk, a book in her hand this time, and eyes me curiously. Maybe news has spread about yesterday. Maybe she knows all about it and thinks we’re riff-raff who need removing from the hotel. I don’t give a fuck what she thinks, but I give her a smile anyway before climbing the stairs. At the top, I take a second to catch my breath and palm my face. My skin’s tight from tears, and my throat throbs from the emotion still lodged there, but I need to get inside our room. Need Ryan’s arms around me like I need the goddamn air to breathe.

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Sliding the key into the lock, I open the door and step inside. Ryan’s on the bed, sitting up with his back against the headboard, grey jogging bottoms the only clothing he wears. Seeing him there…man, it gets me, really fucking gets me, you know? I close the door and look at him, just taking in the sight of him for a minute, glad he’s there, glad he’s lifting his arms and beckoning me toward him. “What the fuck’s happened?” he asks, brow all furrowed, his mouth turning down. “You been crying?” I nod, wanting to cry all over again now I’m back where I belong. “I…uh, I—” “C’mere. Come on.” He lifts his chin, arms still raised. I get onto the bed, settled beside him, my head to his chest. I hug him close, closer, wanting to climb inside him so we’re always together, never to be parted again. I don’t say a word, just let him stroke my back with one hand and fondle my hair with the other. He knows to give me time, and fuck, I’m damn grateful he knows me so well. That he can read me like this.

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Tears fall, silent and hot, and when they stop I look up at him, wishing he didn’t have to see me so broken. It’s hurting him, I can see that by the way his eyes are watery and his mouth is downturned like he’s trying not to cry himself. “You feel better now?” he asks, cupping my cheek and wiping the wetness with his thumb. “Yeah. Much. Sorry for being such a soppy bastard.” “S’all right. Want to talk about it?” “Nah. Not yet. I need…I just—” His mouth covers mine, lips firm and tongue questing. I sink into him, lifting my hand to cradle the back of his head, my whole body whacked out and in need of attention. I swirl my tongue around his, pulling back a little to whisper, “I fucking love you, man,” before pressing my mouth to his again, the soft caress of his hand against my face and the heat from his body all I need to feel.

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scent of outdoors came off Lee, and Ryan

breathed it in, pressing himself closer to his lover. Whatever had sent Lee out to that lighthouse and got him into such a state could wait. Right now he caught on to Lee’s need to be fucked. Acting on instinct, still kissing Lee, he eased off the bed and stood beside it. He tugged Lee up too, and they both kissed, arms getting in a tangle as their hands roamed each other’s bodies. How could this be wrong? How could people rant and rave that love between same-sex couples wasn’t right? Love was love, wasn’t it? No matter who was doing the loving.

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He walked backward, guiding them to the en suite, the tiles cold on his feet. Still kissing, still caressing Lee’s back with one hand, Ryan reached across and snaked his arm into the shower stall. He fumbled to find the button then pressed it. The water groaned up the pipes a second before it spurted from the shower head, the smack of it on the tray reminding him of their fuck in the hospital. Damn, that had been good. His cock hardened, the throb of it so hard he groaned. Stripping off Lee’s jacket, Ryan broke the kiss and worked on Lee’s shirt buttons. Lee held his arms out to his sides, allowing Ryan to pull the shirt away and drop it to the floor. His jeans button proved stubborn, and Ryan let out a growl of frustration at having to tussle with it. He wanted those jeans off, to see Lee’s cock spring free, long and hard and proud. He wanted…God, he just wanted his man naked and in his arms. The button popped out of the hole and, with Lee’s hands cupping his face, trying to close for a kiss, Ryan yanked the jeans down, impatience making his movements erratic.

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Lee stepped out of his jeans, kicked them aside, and grabbed Ryan so their bodies slammed together. They rubbed their cocks together, their hardness growing by the second, Ryan’s joggers a barrier he didn’t fucking want right now. Chest to chest, hips to hips, thighs to thighs, they kissed and explored spines and shoulders with their hands. Lips joining, tongue tips flirting, Ryan couldn’t stand the teasing any longer and deepened the kiss. He clutched the back of Lee’s head, clamping them together, while Lee cupped Ryan’s ass cheeks and kneaded. Ryan felt pre-cum drizzle down his cock tip, his excitement growing as he imagined what it would be like to have Lee’s cock inside him. Could they do it? Would Lee even want to? Steam seeped out through the crack where the shower door wasn’t fully closed and filled the room, giving their bodies a sheen of moisture. Turned on more than he’d ever been, Ryan ran his hands up and down Lee’s back, his fingers slipping and sliding as he drew them up to his shoulders. Lee kissed down the

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column of Ryan’s neck, his hair brushing Ryan’s cheek, his thumbs easing inside his jogging bottoms. Lee pushed them down, and Ryan shimmied until they dropped around his ankles. Finding Lee’s lips again, Ryan kissed him hard and fast, stepping out of his joggers and pushing them aside with one foot. Both free of clothing, Ryan raised one arm and opened the shower door, then placed his hands on Lee’s chest to push him backward into the shower. Inside, water pummelling their heads, steam making it hard to breathe when breaths were already fast and tight, Ryan wrenched his mouth from Lee’s and stood staring at him, drinking him in like it was the last time he’d ever see him. Lee’s hair stuck to his head and cheeks, drenched locks dripping water down his face. His beautiful eyes expressed so much love Ryan’s chest hurt with the build up of emotion. The urge to have Lee inside his ass gripped Ryan again, and he reached up for the shower gel, hanging from a hook on the tiled wall behind

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them. He handed it to Lee, determined to take control. If he didn’t, if he appeared unsure, Lee wouldn’t entertain it. “Soap your cock,” Ryan said, his voice commanding. Lee’s eyes widened as he took the gel, his hand shaking a little. “You sure? I mean, we haven’t done this… I don’t know what—” “We need to learn, man. Soap your cock. Come on. Let me see you touching yourself.” Lee bent his head and squirted gel into his palm. He smoothed the liquid over his shaft, the gel’s thick consistency turning white the more Lee rubbed. He hand-fucked himself, the sight too damn erotic. Ryan didn’t want to turn away but had to if he was to get what he wanted. He manoeuvred around, bending at the waist and planting his palms on the tile. There was just enough room for Lee to stand behind him, and once he pushed inside… “Hurry, man,” Ryan said, the excitement getting to him. He wanted to come already, to shoot his damn load against the tile. To experience it all now, now, now.

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“We can’t hurry. Might hurt. I don’t want—” “I don’t mean like that. I mean… Fuck, just soap my arse.” A few seconds passed. The wait stretched out. The shower gel bottle dropped to the tray. Then Lee’s fingers roved up and down Ryan’s ass cleft, the soapy feel of them damn good on his skin. He spread his legs as much as he could in the confined space, jutting his ass out to give Lee better access. Lee’s finger circled Ryan’s hole, slipped inside, and he pushed it in and out, slowly getting Ryan ready for what was to come. Ryan gritted his teeth, anticipating the sting and burn when Lee’s cock took his finger’s place. Could he handle it? Would he like it? Oh God, I fucking want him. “Now. Try it now,” Ryan said, itching to take his own cock in hand and fist himself to completion. He held back, pressed his hands tighter to the tiles, wanting to wait, to push himself until he had no choice but to make himself come. To test himself, find his limit.

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Lee’s cock tip glided up and down Ryan’s shaft, his finger working to loosen his anal shaft. They’d done that before, but it felt all the sweeter knowing they were taking the next step. Tip stilled at Ryan’s pucker, Lee gripped Ryan’s waist with one hand and gently eased his finger out then pushed against the hole with his cock. The wider intrusion, just the very tip, burned like hell, but at the same time fuelled Ryan’s desire. He knew it would hurt, but if they took it slow, if Lee was gentle… Fuck, I’m going to come already. Ryan palmed his cock and squeezed the tip, teeth gritted and mind trying not to focus on what Lee was doing. Lee pushed in a little further, the stretch making Ryan want to keen. A raging heat spread in his ass, and Ryan longed to jerk back and be done with the slow torture. He tested how it felt, pushing back just a bit, but it hurt too much. “We have to take it slow, man,” Lee said, his voice sounding strangled. “If we don’t… I’m gonna come…too fast. I’m close.”

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“Me too. Fuck!” Ryan’s balls ached, the pulse in them matching the beat of his heart, and he closed his eyes. Lee eased in some more, his fingers biting into Ryan’s waist. The burn continued, grew in intensity, and Ryan groaned, squeezed his cock tip harder. And then Lee slid inside more easily, halfway in, and stopped, giving Ryan time to grow accustomed. “Fuck!” Ryan panted, opened his eyes to grey steam and condensation dribbling down the tile. “More. It’s okay. A bit more.” Lee obliged, his length fitting inside Ryan after a long, slow pressure. The pain as his ass accommodated the intrusion had Ryan gasping. “I’ll hold still before I try…” Lee’s pants filled the stall. “Shit, man. This is so tight. So fucking tight. I might not last…much…longer.” “Then fuck my arse. Just do it.” Ryan curled his hand around his cock and began an easy rhythm, knowing if he jerked too quickly it would be all over in seconds. Lee pulled out then shunted back in. God, that pain was wicked yet so sweet at the same time.

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“Good. That’s damn fucking good,” Ryan breathed. “Faster.” “You like that? Does it feel good?” “Fuck, yeah. So good. Too good. Waited…so long.” “Oh, fuck. I’m too close. I’m gonna—” “Just…faster. Doesn’t matter about coming… too quickly. I’m—” Lee sliding in and out stole Ryan’s ability to speak. He felt so full down there, Lee’s cock gliding against his inner nub sending him half crazy with desire. Ryan worked his cock, daring to push back, wanting the whole of Lee inside him, wanting to feel full to bursting. Lee’s movements increased speed—still not too fast but enough to make a significant difference—and Ryan couldn’t hold off any longer. He moved his hand up and down, fist tight, so damn tight, and waited for the explosion. “Shit, man. I’m coming,” Lee said, gripping Ryan’s waist with both hands and pulling him into his body each time he pushed his cock inside. “Jesus…Jesus fucking Christ!”

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Wet heat filled Ryan’s ass, gave Lee’s movements a freer glide, and Ryan was undone. He came with a cry that echoed in the stall, bunching his toes and throwing his head back to grind out alien sounds he’d never made before. Faster, faster, he pumped himself, his ejaculation forcing his cock hole wide. Balls heavy and aching, ass filled so much he couldn’t breathe, Ryan closed his eyes, silver specks dancing beneath the lids. Lee’s grunts and moans brought on another rush of lust, and Ryan spurted again and again, watching his cum shoot out and slap against the tile. Lee moved one hand up to Ryan’s shoulder and he continued to pump, emptying himself into Ryan with short, jerky thrusts. God, this was better than Ryan had imagined, and he wished they’d tried it sooner. He smiled, and that smile turned into a laugh as Ryan slowed on his cock and Lee slowed inside him. Both still, both catching their breaths, they remained in their position until Lee began to soften. He pulled out, leaving Ryan feeling so open back there he thought his asshole would

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never close. It did, but slowly, and as Ryan straightened, turning to face Lee, he wondered if he’d ever walk normally again. But it was all good. If he walked like a cowboy from now, so be it. The thought made him laugh, and he stooped down to pick up the shower gel. Filling his palm with the liquid, he soaped Lee’s chest, his sides, his cock. As they kissed, Lee smoothed his hands up his own chest, gathering lather, and washed Ryan’s back. The water cascaded over both their heads, sliding down their faces. Lips wet and slippery, their kiss deepened, and the love Ryan had for Lee grew. Something he hadn’t thought was possible. He’d loved him beyond measure before, but this coupling, this new plane they were on brought a deeper love that eclipsed the other. Ryan’s heart ached with the intensity of it, his limbs weakening, his eyes burning. A low whimper left Ryan, and Lee pulled back, an anxious look in his eyes. “You all right? Was it okay? Did I hurt you?” “You did good. It was…yeah, it hurts, I won’t lie, but it’s a good hurt, you know?”

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“Okay. So long as you’re okay.” Ryan brushed his lips against Lee’s before putting one cheek to his lover’s chest and holding him close. The water warmed him right along with Lee’s body heat, and Ryan had never felt so complete. Oh, he thought he’d been complete before, didn’t think they could ever best the bond they already had, but shit, the threads that held them together strengthened with every passing day. With every new thing that came their way. Lee shivered, and with regret, Ryan released his hold and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and held it out for Lee, who joined him outside the stall, draping it around his shoulders. Ryan took another towel from the rail and did the same, pressing against his lover to help dry him. Their slow explorations gave Ryan the sense that despite what he’d thought before, about how their love couldn’t get any stronger, it was always growing. He tried to imagine what it would be like in a year’s time, when it had burgeoned further. And it would, of that he had no doubt.

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Jesus. It’s amazing. Fucking amazing. Once dry, Ryan slipped on his joggers and handed Lee his clothes. He watched him dress, stepping forward to do up the shirt buttons. Looking at Lee, he couldn’t help smiling madly at the fact he was so fucking happy he could burst. “Reckon we ought to think about leaving, yeah?” Ryan said. But I don’t want to. Could stay here forever. “Yeah, though I don’t want to go. I could stay here for another week and just keep fucking your arse.” “Ah, ever the charmer.” Ryan chuckled. He knew exactly what Lee meant. They had new avenues to explore, and like the first time with anything, he longed to keep at it until the novelty wore off. If it ever would. I hope it doesn’t. Hope we never tire of one another like that. “You know me,” Lee said, swinging open the bathroom door and walking into the bedroom. “Charming as fuck, I am.” Ryan chuckled, followed him, and looked

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around the room. They’d hardly been tidy, so they had a bit to do before they could go home. “Shit, we’re messy bastards.”

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was time to leave. Yeah, they could stay a

while longer—Lee didn’t have to return to work for another two weeks—but Ryan ought to be getting back into the swing of things. Their boss was expecting him Wednesday morning, which gave him another day off at home tomorrow. Plenty of time to settle back in. It felt like they hadn’t been at the Biddingford cabin in ages, what with this long weekend away and Lee being in hospital for two weeks before that. Christ, only a fortnight, yet it felt like months had passed since Greg had shot Lee. And it

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would be months before the trial began, before they were needed to give evidence. They’d give it too. No fucking way were they going to let those bastards get away with their shit. Ryan studied Lee, who tossed a sweater into their holdall and zipped the bag up. They’d be all right, wouldn’t they? “We’d best be off then,” Ryan said, taking the bag by the handles and hauling it onto his back. “Reckon we’ll be home in time for a late dinner. Could stop off before we head into Biddingford, if you like? Get an Indian or Chinese.” “Take away or eat in?” Lee asked, checking the room for anything they might have left behind. “Whatever you like.” Ryan opened the door and stepped onto the landing, wincing just a little bit at the burn of his ass. Christ. He couldn’t believe they’d finally done it. Gone over the line and taken their sex life to a whole new level. He looked forward to further exploration on the many nights they’d share for the rest of their lives.

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Lee followed him out of the room, a cheeky grin spreading. “How’s your arse?” he whispered. Ryan laughed and adjusted the bag into a more comfortable position. “Shit. There’s that romance talk again. You’re just too damn soppy.” “I try my best. So, how is it?” He eyed Ryan with concern. “It’s all right. I’ll get used to it.” He closed the door. “As will you.” “Yeah. Maybe.” “D’you think you’ll like it?” Ryan put his hand on Lee’s shoulder, wanting to tell him if he didn’t feel ready then that was okay. “Want it, even?” “I want it, yeah. Just a bit nervous that’s all.” He glanced around the landing. “Fuck’s sake, man. Let’s talk about this somewhere more private, yeah?” Ryan nodded and took the stairs, the bag bumping against the bottom of his back. He strode into the reception area and waited while Lee signed them out. Despite Harry fucking up their weekend—and fucking up

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was an understatement—it’d been a nice break. With Lee stuck in hospital and Ryan limited to only seeing him during visiting hours, here they’d been able to spend some much-needed time alone. He watched Lee sign the register, the receptionist handing him some change, and turned to walk out the main doors. A weak sun fought to warm his face, and he lifted his chin, breathing in the fresh air and hoping their future wasn’t as bleak as the grey sky. Stop thinking like that. It’ll be fine, and if it isn’t, we’ll get through. Lee came up beside him, elbow-jabbing him in the ribs. “Come on, mate. Time to get our arses back home.” He started walking down the gravelled path then turned. “You driving, or do you want me to?” “I’ll do it.” Ryan followed him around back to the car park. “You can start driving and stuff like that once you go back to work. If the hospital’s advised another two weeks off work, then I reckon you need the time to rest up. Get better properly.”

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“I’m fine,” Lee said, reaching the car and standing beside the passenger door. He ran one hand through his hair, and Ryan wished they could check in again and go back in the shower. “The wound’s healed.” “Yeah.” Ryan unlocked the car and dumped the bag on the back seat. “On the outside. No one knows what’s going on inside.” He meant more than just the wound, and as he got into the driver’s seat, he wondered whether Lee was going to open up about his time at the lighthouse. About everything. Lee sat beside him and buckled up. “All right. Whatever you say.” He smiled across at Ryan, the dimple in his cheek too fucking cute. “Yep, whatever I say.” Ryan started the car and eased out of the car park, onto the road that led to the village. As they sped along, he said casually, “So, you got anything you need to talk about?” He kept his gaze on the road and gripped the wheel tight while he awaited the usual negative answer, that no, he didn’t have anything to say at all.

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“I do, but I don’t know if you want to hear all my shit.” Lee sniffed, rubbed the end of his nose. “I do, which is why I asked, man. Come on. Out with it. We both need to learn to talk things through, don’t we? No point both of us locking shit inside, is there?” Ryan drove through the village, holding back a shudder as they went past the stretch of beach where Harry had threatened him with a gun. The images of that incident flicked through his mind. If Lee had been in that newsagent’s queue a little longer… Shit. I’ve got to get over this. He didn’t shoot me. I’m okay. “All right,” Lee said, snapping Ryan’s attention back to the present. “If I bore you, yawn yeah?” Ryan nodded and waited for the words he knew Lee needed to say. It had been obvious for a long time that Lee had held too much emotion inside. Everything from his childhood, him leaving town and living in Biddingford for a couple of years by himself. Then his old dear’s death, the funeral, the shooting. Fuck, when

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Ryan thought about it like this, he realised they’d been through so much together already. Enough grief to fill a lifetime. They’d talked in snippets, but wouldn’t an honest-to-God unleashing of emotions serve them better? It was a difficult one to call. Sometimes holding shit in worked. But Lee had too much shit, and that amount of sorrow couldn’t be good for anyone. “There was this old bloke at the lighthouse.” Lee smoothed his hands up and down his thighs, gripping them just above the knees until his knuckles turned white. “He…uh, he came out to speak to me. Like he knew I needed some perspective.” He paused, then, “I know I’ve got it worse than some, but there are others who have it worse than me. Than us. Much worse. That’s what he was telling me, with his story.” “What did he tell you?” Keep going, mate. Let it all out. “He was old, yeah? About eighty-odd. Told me he’d fought in the war, seen people killed. Like old people do. I thought he was going to ramble on and on, telling me I didn’t know which

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side my bread was buttered on and all that crap. But he didn’t. Not in so many words anyway.” Lee raised his hands and palmed his face. “When he got home from the war, he married, had a kid.” “And?” “And someone killed them.” “What? Fucking hell!” Ryan’s hands slipped on the steering wheel, and he scrambled to stop the car sliding into the opposite lane. Catastrophe diverted, he glanced at Lee, who nodded, his head looking heavy, like it held too much information. “Yeah. Mental, isn’t it? Like, who the fuck would expect that? I didn’t. When he told me, I didn’t know that the fuck to say.” “Jesus. How were they killed?” Do I really want to know? “Some bloke hung them from the banisters in their home. That old bloke’s been alone ever since. Poor old fucker. I just didn’t know what to say, you know?” Lee huffed out a breath. “Wasn’t much I could say.” He sighed and stuffed his hands under his armpits, as though he needed a

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hug and couldn’t have one because Ryan was driving. “Yeah. One of those times when you don’t say anything at all, I reckon.” Ryan scanned ahead, looking for a turn off. A road branched to their left in the distance, and he accelerated, wanting to get there before Lee broke down. And it sounded like he might. “I mean, how the fuck do you go on after something like that, eh?” Lee asked. In his peripheral vision, Ryan saw Lee shaking his head. “I suppose you just would, but when Greg shot you… Fuck, I thought you were going to die, and I’ll admit I wanted to die right there with you.” Shit. Blurry eyes are not good when you’re driving. He flicked the signal switch and veered onto the side road. “I know what you’re saying. I felt the same when Harry… Shit. Yeah, when…yeah.” He sucked in a breath. Released it in a whoosh. “I can’t live without you, man. I mean that.” Lee sniffed, and it took Ryan all he had not to slew off the road through lack of clear sight. He blinked, letting the tears fall, and pulled over onto

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the hard shoulder, uncaring that the car’s rear end jutted out at an angle. Some things just weren’t important. He wrenched up the handbrake then leaned across, gathering Lee into his arms and squeezing him so tight he had to remind himself of Lee’s condition. Releasing his hold a little, Ryan buried his face into Lee’s neck, tears hot on his face. Yeah, he might look a weak bastard, crying on his lover’s shoulder, but it beat not being able to do it. It beat having to cry alone when your lover was gone, never to return. He pulled back and cupped Lee’s cheek with one hand, staring into wet eyes that told him Lee’s emotions were running riot just like his. He brushed his mouth over Lee’s lips, whispering that everything would be all right, that they’d get through the coming months and come out the other side smiling. Both of them had needed this release for such a long time, and fuck whether the cars driving past beeped their horns at Ryan’s haphazard parking. Fuck it if the drivers saw two men kissing. They

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needed to get a damn life and mind their own pissing business. They sat kissing for a while, fingertips exploring faces and heads, a gentle time of nurturing and letting each other know that yes, they were in this for the long haul. Coping with the good and the bad. They hadn’t talked like Ryan had hoped, but he knew now that somehow they didn’t need to. It was all there in the touches, the swirling of tongues and the soft pecks on lips. They understood one another. No need for words or explanations. Ryan ended their kiss and pulled his head back so he could look into Lee’s eyes. They were moist, red-rimmed, and clearer, as though Lee had come to a point where the words he’d spoken were enough to release the build up inside him. Ryan reckoned counselling might work for both of them. Not for anything to do with their relationship, but more for talking to someone with no emotions invested, someone who could remain objective and help them deal with the trauma they had been through. Whether Lee would agree was another matter, a

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topic Ryan could broach another day. And if Lee wasn’t up for it, that was okay. Ryan would go alone—he felt he needed to; maybe him doing so would encourage Lee to do the same. “We’d best be getting home,” Ryan said, reluctant to pull away but knowing they couldn’t sit on the roadside indefinitely. “Yeah. S’pose. Be nice if we could stay here like this all the time, know what I mean?” Ryan smiled. “Yeah. I do.” He sighed and stroked Lee’s cheek one last time before starting the car and nosing back onto the road, heading back to the one they’d turned off of. He thought about when he’d first gone to Biddingford to tell Lee his old lady had killed herself, and how Lee had driven them back to the town they’d lived in all their lives. Despite the grimness of where they were headed back then, the uncertainties of what might happen, they also had the knowledge that they’d started the first leg of their life’s journey together. Ryan felt much the same now, except they were on their way back to a different place, to the cabin where they’d made their home, to a

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place where Ryan had once felt safe and now…didn’t. “Reckon we ought to move out of the cabin and start again somewhere else?” Lee asked. Startled that Lee had read his mind again—though he didn’t know why, because hadn’t they always had this thing between them?—Ryan nodded and listened to Lee as he put forward suggestions as to where they would go. “We’ve still got the majority of my old dear’s money. We can use it to pay six month’s rent up front. Find jobs. Just…live. No worries. Come on. Pick a town or village, a city even, and we’ll look into it once we get back. Anywhere you like.” Ryan smiled, caught up in Lee’s enthusiasm, and thought of where he’d like to go. “What about Ireland? Heard it’s nice there. Laid back kind of life out in the country.” “Sounds good. Like I said, wherever you want.” “We’d have to check we could go there,” Ryan said. “You know, with the trial and whatnot.”

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“Can’t see why we can’t. It’s not like we’re leaving the country, is it? Not as though we have to stay here, like we’re the ones who’ve done something wrong.” “You’re probably right.” Lee leaned forward and switched on the radio, selecting an easy listening station. His fingers tapped against his legs, and a shimmer of desire flickered in Ryan’s cock. He loved this guy so damn much it hurt, wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, would travel to the ends of the earth if it meant they’d be together. Live in a fucking shack in the arse end of nowhere. Bound, that’s what they were. Tied together by love and circumstance. An eternity of togetherness waited for them, and Ryan stared ahead, to the right, at the rolling countryside that looked like a painting. It spread into the distance, trees and fields blurred against the horizon, the smudge of an artist’s chalk. Ryan glanced at Lee, who looked back at him, a big grin tweaking his lips.

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“You know we said all that romance shit wasn’t for us?” Lee’s cheeks reddened. “Yeah…” “D’you reckon I could say just one thing? You know, just blurt it out, and then we can forget I ever did it.” “You could do.” Ryan held off a smile, not wanting Lee to think he found this funny. Lee’s blush made it clear his lover was struggling to show a side of himself he’d always sworn didn’t exist. “Oh, right.” Lee cleared his throat. “Okay. Well… Fuck. Um, I…I just wanted to say, um…” “Go on.” “Well, it’s just that I…wanted to, ah… Oh, fuck it.” Ryan released his laughter. “Face it, man, it’s just not going to work.” “Might come in time, though, eh?” “Might do.” “I’ll try again. Right. Here we go. I…I want… Ah, fuck it. I give up.” “Yeah. Me too.” Ryan laughed again, loving the sound as Lee joined in.

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Once composed, Lee said, “Ryan?” “Yeah?” “Fucking love you, man.” “Love you too, mate. Always.”

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About The Author Sarah writes in many genres. Her love of fantasy and historicals often features in her work, and she leans toward the highly erotic. She lives in England with her adorable husband and children. www.sarahmastersauthor.wordpress.com

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