Page 13 of Crying in the Rain

Those weren’t even the right lines, and in any case, it was just a dream. But he couldn’t deny he liked Kris. So he had a bit of a crush on an attractive guy who’d paid him the right kind of attention. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that. Kris was an actor; of course Ade would find him attractive. Actors were his type. Over-emotional, self-absorbed, indulgent, dangerous…

Except he hadn’t got those vibes from Kris. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

Oh, come on, Ade. Wishing for what? Shouldn’t you know better by now?He switched off the water and got out of the shower before the daydream carried him any further away from reality. He didn’t want a relationship with anyone. Not yet. Maybe not ever. They only ended in disaster.

Keeping his eyes averted from the mirror, he brushed his teeth, carefully. It hurt less than it had yesterday, which was something. Shaving was a non-starter, but when he did catch his reflection,he realised it was better that way; even with just a day’s stubble, the bruises were less noticeable, and less noticeable meant less likelihood of inquisition.

Half an hour later, running five minutes behind, Ade was at the door, ready to leave, when the sound of the key in the lock made him freeze in terror. He couldn’t do this. Not now. He had to go to work. The door opened.

Fergus smiled disarmingly. “Hi. I didn’t think I’d catch you.”

“You mean you were hoping you’d missed me.”

“Not at all.”

It was no coincidence that Fergus had arrived right after Ade would usually have left for work.

“You need to leave your key,” Ade said coolly, although his heart was pounding so hard he was starting to think he might have a heart attack from the stress.

“My stuff’s still here.”

Then take your stuff, give me my key, and get out of my FUCKING LIFE!That was what he wanted to say, what heneededto say, but it was stuck inside, languishing in the stack of unsaids from every other time. He shuffled soundlessly past Fergus, staring straight ahead of him at the door, his escape route, grasped the handle, breath held in hope, and started to press down.

“Ade.”

He closed his eyes in shame, but this was so normal he barely saw it as such. The familiar pattern slipped over him like prison bars, invisible yet cold and strong as steel. He refused to turn around and somehow kept his tone measured to say, “I’m late for work.”

“I’ll give you a lift. Just talk to me.”

“I’d rather walk.” Yet he wasn’t walking anywhere. The power over him, the fear that stilled him—it didn’t matter about work or success or earning his own way because it always came back to this.

“Please?” Fergus tried, turning the word into a pathetic whine.

Playing the ‘poor little me’ card. Don’t fall for it.“Later,” was all Ade could utter.Just. Leave.

“There won’t be a later.”

“Ferg…” Ade turned part way to face his ex-boyfriend. “I don’t want—”

“Didn’t I do what you asked of me?”

Ade didn’t answer.

“I stayed away, gave you space. I can’t help it if I still want to be with you.”

Still Ade said nothing. Whether it was fear or sense or simply weary resignation that stopped him, he didn’t know, but nor did Fergus know what to do with it, and it was working to Ade’s advantage.

“You want to be with me too,” Fergus stated.

Ade made a sound of disbelief under his breath. Fergus heard it.

“If you don’t, then what was Sunday night all about?”

Ade shook his head, feeling the anger and defencelessness swell, trying to suppress both with the few reserves he had left. This was how it started, how it always started.

“I’m going to work,” he said. He wrenched the door open and fled his apartment, down the stairs, through the entrance hall without stopping, bursting out onto the pavement breathless and panicked, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to get to the radio station, get past security to where Fergus couldn’t reach him, or not physically, but it wouldn’t end there. The mind games would take over, going where the punches, kicks and jaw-crushing restraints could not.

He didn’t stop until he reached the lift and flung himself inside, trying to breathe and not cry as the doors closed, carrying him upwards to his sanctuary. He couldn’t live like this. Not anymore. But what choice did he have? How many times had Fergus walked out on them, with lies of how Ade was spending too much time with his friends or flirting withhimorhim, as if Ade would dare to risk another punch, another bottle smashedover his head. Months would pass, and Ade was so damned angry with himself for missing Fergus, wanting everything to be right between them, how it used to be.How it used to be?No. It had always been hellish. What he remembered was his imaginary relationship, the ‘if only’ for all that was missing from every ‘if I can just get through this’. What he missed had never been.

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