Page 114 of Men in Shorts

The brochure from Victim Support Scotland trembled in Andrew’s hands as he sat on the sofa waiting for Colin. This “Common Reactions After a Crime” pamphlet—which the procurator fiscal’s office had sent with the new victim statement forms—featured a column of adjectives, each with an empty box beside it.

He crushed the brochure between his palms. How dare he feellonelywhen he had Colin, not to mention a supportive family, dozens of friends, and a million followers? How could he want to withdraw from a world that offered him so much?

“This needs to steep,” Colin said as he set the tea tray on the coffee table. He sat on the couch and placed a pen and a blank victim statement form between them. “You don’t have to fill this in now, but maybe the questions might help you, I dunno, find some words?”

Andrew curled his legs up and shrank into the opposite corner of the sofa. “I know I need to…say things. It’s not fair to you to hide how I feel.”

“Gonnae no worry about me.” Colin held up a hand. “I know, worrying about me’s a hard habit to break. But maybe just for an hour or so, we could worry about you.”

“Fine. An hour. But I’m timing it.” Andrew picked up the pen and used it to nudge the victim statement form closer. He flipped over the cover sheet, holding it by the corner. The next page asked for basic information like name, address, and date of the crime; and the page after that inquired after physical injuries.

The third page contained the part he’d been dreading. “‘Psychological effects.’ I don’t even know where to begin.”

“What about that list you’ve got mangled in your hand?”

Andrew sighed, wishing for a drink or six. He smoothed out the pamphlet on his thigh, then began ticking boxes beside the list of feelings, followed by the list of “changes” on the reverse side. Oddly, the column labeledNowwas much fuller than the one labeled4 weeks after the crime.

Before he could recover from this bout of honesty, he tossed the brochure onto the couch between them.

Colin picked up the pamphlet and examined both sides. “Christ.”

“At least I’ve not started smoking or abusing prescription drugs, so I could leave a few boxes blank.” Andrew put the cap back on the pen and began to twist it. “Not that I wasn’t tempted recently, as you still had painkillers left over from your surgeries. But I was afraid if something happened and you needed them again…” He pressed his knuckles to his mouth at the thought of another relapse.

“I’d no idea you—” Colin shook his head. “That’s not true, not completely. I noticed your mood swings lately and how sometimes you couldnae focus. But some of these other feelings—like ‘tearful’? Until a few minutes ago I’d not seen you cry in months.”

“Of course not.” Andrew twisted the pen cap faster to keep his hands from quivering. “That’s what showers are for.”

“Ah Andrew…” Now Colin was the one crumpling the unfortunate pamphlet in his fist. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’ve donenothing,” Colin said, “and that’s what’s wrong. I was too wrapped up in my own wee problems to notice you were suffering.”

“Recovering from a stab wound is not a ‘wee problem.’ And how could you have known how I was feeling if I didn’t tell you?”

“Of all people,Ishould see when someone’s hiding pain. Everybody leaves clues. Me, I had these.” Colin touched the black thistle tattoo on his inner arm, tracing the old razor scars that formed the pattern of the leaves. “For you it was the empty bottles, and those moments when I’d speak to you and you seemed far away.” He tugged at his hair, releasing a frustrated groan. “I thought you just needed time to yourself. You were used to living alone, and here I was invading your flat and stealing your privacy. So I tried to keep my distance and not be in your face, when what you really needed was for someone to just fuckingseeyour face.”

“Stop.” Andrew slid down the black leather couch to sit beside him, finding Colin’s distress a soothing distraction. “You’re not a mind reader. I shut you out.”

“Did you think I couldn’t help you?”

“You were hurt and ill. You needed me to be strong.”

“I needed you to beyou. I know you’re not perfect. I wouldn’t love you if you were perfect.” Colin gave a rough gasp. “Och, I was such an eejit. Sometimes I thought you wanted me gone.”

The word seemed to kick Andrew in the chest. “Gone? That’s the last thing I want. Why would you think that?” he asked, though he knew the answer from the stories Colin had told him about his mum. How when she was ill, her love seemed to switch on and off with each moment. How he never knew, at any given time, whether he’d be hugged or shoved.

“We’re living together cos I got stabbed,” Colin said. “You looked after me, and now I’m better. So I thought maybe it was time for me to move home—back to my family, I mean.”

“God, no.” Andrew felt he might suffocate at the thought. “I didn’t look after you out of pity, I did it out of love. You’re here because I want you here.Thisis your home.”

“Not legally. You own this flat, and you won’t let me pay rent.”

“Fine. Pay rent, if that’s what it takes to make you feel secure.” He heard his own words. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean that like it sounds.”

“I know, I know.” Colin spoke in a tone Andrew had often used on nervous horses. “It’s gonnae be okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Something crumpled inside him as the tears began to flow again. “To know I was such a prick these last weeks, you thought I wanted you gone…” He covered his face to smother his sob. “Why couldn’t I just tell you the truth? What’s wrong with me?”

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