Page 115 of Men in Shorts

“Nothing’s wrong with you! Stop talking like that.” Colin grasped Andrew as if to shake him. Then he took a deep breath and let go, his palms coming to rest lightly on Andrew’s knees. “Sorry. Say whatever you need. Just know that no matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

Andrew lowered his hands and looked at him. “You won’t move out?”

“Of course not, ya daftie. I’ll stay as long as you can put up with me.”

Andrew sniffled, unable to imagine wanting rid of Colin. “That’s very kind.”

“Pish.” With a soft touch, Colin lifted Andrew’s chin. “I’m not staying cos I feel sorry for you. I’m staying cos I love you.”

Andrew managed half a smile at hearing a version of his own words spoken back to him. Then he wiped his eyes. “Is the tea ready, you think?”

Colin stared at him, his mouth pursing like he was trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Colin got up to pour the tea. “Just that even in your shitest moments, you’re still utterly, instinctively British.”

Andrew sniffled again. “Thank you.”

As they drank their tea, now sitting close together, Andrew told Colin about his nightmares. They seemed less terrifying in the daylight, and some details even sounded funny when he spoke them aloud.

“So instead of eating you,” Colin said, “the zombies asked you to join their polo team?”

“Mm-hm. It was like I was already one of them.”

Colin started to laugh, but then his face turned more somber than ever. “Do you think…” He dragged his bottom teeth over his upper lip as he examined the Victim Support pamphlet. “It says here you’ve felt you cannae cope. Did you ever…I mean, when my mum was depressed, sometimes she had to go into hospital cos she was thinking about?—”

“Suicide? No. I’ve never considered it.”

“Not once?”

“I saidnever.” Andrew clutched his mug in both hands, running his thumbs over the rim. “Though there’ve been moments.” He thought back to yesterday, how that black-hole gravity had tugged him toward nothingness, promising peace and relief if he’d only give up the struggle. “Moments when it seemed easier to just stop.”

“Stop living?”

“More like stop fighting the current. Stop trying to save myself.” He looked up from the amber remnants of his tea to see Colin’s eyes turning wet. “It’s not the same as wanting to die. It’s more like…wanting to rest.”

Colin nodded. “Back when I was cutting myself, that’s kinda what it did—let me rest for a wee while. The pain was like a relief. Pure fucking temporary relief, of course.”

“Like drinking. Or distractions like exams or the holidays or Fergus and John’s wedding.” Andrew hesitated, then decided to be fully honest. “Or looking after you.”

Colin gave a grim smile. “When I got better, you got worse.”

“That’s an awful way to put it, but yes.” Andrew swallowed the last of his tea. “After the new year I tried to fathom why I was…spiraling. I thought I was simply worried about Jeremy’s trial. Surely I’d feel better once it was over. Now there’s not going to be a trial. I got exactly what I wanted, so why do I feel worse?” He crammed the heel of his hand against his forehead, wishing he could shove some sense into his brain. “Why can’t Idoanything?”

Colin gently took Andrew’s empty mug and set it on the coffee table. Then he sat back against the end of the couch and opened his arms. “Come here.”

“I don’t need comforting.”

“Maybe I do.”

Andrew’s resolve melted. He nestled into the space between Colin’s body and the back of the sofa, then laid his head upon Colin’s shoulder.

Colin held him carefully. “This is better, aye?”

Andrew could only nod as he wrapped his arm around Colin’s waist.

“You were strong for me, so let me be strong for you now.” Colin stroked Andrew’s hair, as Andrew had done for him so many times. “Maybe I cannae play a full half of football, but I can give you whatever you need, even if it’s just a place to rest. Okay?”

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