by Lily Morton
When we get into the bathroom after a short detour to mine to get a shopping bag for his arm and some tape, I pause. “Okay perhaps if you take your shirt off first, then we can bag your arm up and then maybe you can do the rest yourself.”
“Coward,” he mutters. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it now.”
I’m flustered and it’s egging him on so I take a deep breath and grab control. I grasp his t-shirt. “Okay what would probably work best is if I pull the shirt up from the back and then you can pull it over your head. That way we shouldn’t jostle your arm. Bend forward.”
He bites his lip against the obvious retort and obediently bends forward, inadvertently gifting me the scent of his shampoo which smells of something citrusy and sharp. He’s standing so close now, all that golden skin in touching distance and his hot, sweet breath hitting my face. This is going to go wrong I just know it, but like a puppet I reach around him brushing my hands against his sharp hipbones and feeling his stomach muscles contract against me and hearing him take a sharp breath. I’m trying my best to ignore that and hoping fervently that he can’t hear that my breathing has picked up as I pull his t-shirt up his back and then gently over his head, and then stand back thankfully as he pulls it off himself.
I can feel my eyes widen slightly as the full glory of his torso comes into view. I’ve seen him shirtless many times over the last couple of months, but nothing prepares me to see him this close up. He’s so beautiful with wide shoulders and a long, lean torso narrowing down to sharp hipbones and the start of a mouth-watering ‘v’ which is shown off by his jeans hanging so precariously from his hips. To add insult to injury all of this is covered in that golden brown skin which I know is his natural tone.
Becoming aware that silence has fallen I gulp and look up hastily at him aware that I was just staring at him like he was the last Mars Bar in a sweet shop. I thought he’d be ready with a sharp quip but instead he’s staring at me too, his eyes dark and hot. It brings me back to myself like a glass of water thrown in my face. My friend I chant inwardly. My friend and not shagging material.
I turn swiftly and busy myself picking up the plastic bag. “Right,” I say brightly, holding it up. “Let’s get you bagged up.”
He stares at me for a second his breathing heavier than normal and then acquiesces with his normal good grace, holding out his arm and letting me fuss over placing it correctly. Once I’m sure that it’s watertight I reach for the masking tape and start winding it round the bag.
“This is only a very temporary measure. It won’t hold up to much movement because I can’t tape it to your skin for fear of hurting you when it comes off.”
“Do I want to enquire why you’ve got masking tape in your bedroom?” he asks, his voice deep and raspy making me shiver inside, but I hide it and give him a cheeky grin.
“Maybe not but you can call me Mistress Alys if you like or Ma’am.”
He throws his head back laughing and I falter slightly but turn quickly to get some towels from the unit in the corner. “So, if you can just manage to get your jeans …” I hear the shower start and a muffled clink and spin round before gasping and holding my hand to my chest like an old maiden aunt. “Or of course you could just get naked in front of me,” I squeak as he saunters casually into the wide shower enclosure making no attempt to cover himself at all.
I’m trying valiantly to keep my eyes off his world class arse with the twin golden globes that are so tight you could bounce a penny off them, but then he turns around not even trying to hide the massive erection that he’s sporting. It reaches up to his belly button and is so thick and gorgeous I can’t find the words. Water runs in rivulets down his tight torso hitting his long, well-muscled hairy legs, and his thick biceps bulge as he soaps himself still watching me from eyes that have gone a dark coppery yellow colour.
For a second I think about squawking and running out of the bathroom but then I remind myself that I am a strong, independent woman. I’ve seen a fair few naked men, albeit none as gorgeous as this one, but I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I’m not going to start with him. Leaning casually back against the sink I raise one eyebrow challengingly. “You missed a spot.”
He looks down at himself and quirks his eyebrow back at me. “Where?”
“Your mammoth ego needs a good polish Pipsqueak.”
He throws his head back laughing merrily and I can safely say that this is one of the main things that I love about him. He has no ego at all really and is just very sure of himself.
Recovering himself he stares at me. “There’s a towel on the side.”
“Why? Are you finished already?”
“No, it’s for all that dribble running down your chin babe. A woman with a saliva problem, well it’s just not attractive.”
“Oh fuck off.” I start laughing. “I presume you can get dry yourself so I’m going to make you some breakfast.”
He stops laughing. “You’re cooking me breakfast?”
I look at him confused. “Of course I am. You need some food inside you before you take any more painkillers. I’m going to remake your bed so that you’ve got some nice fresh sheets, and you’re going to sleep for a long time because you’re going to feel a bit crap for the next few days.”
He switches the shower off and grabs the towel that I hand to him with his good arm. Winding it around his narrow hips slightly clumsily he watches me intently as I take off the bag, fussing over the cast and patting dry the few drops of water that have got onto it.
I look up at him finding him looking back at me like I’m some sort of circus act. “Are you okay?” I ask and he stares hard at me for a second before smiling uncertainly.
“Yeah, thanks babe. Just not used to this sort of thing you know.”
I’m alarmed. “Oh, am I being too fussy? I forget that you’ve lived on your own all this time. I’m probably freaking you out. I’ll stop.”
“No, no,” he says so quickly that I almost get whiplash. “Don’t stop. It’s …”
He fades out and I wait and then finally ask, “What?”
“It’s nice,” he finally admits.
“Well of course it is.” I smile at him. “Everyone needs a bit of TLC Bram. You’re not an island. Now what’s your favourite breakfast and I’ll make it for you.”
“Really?” He looks slightly excited. “Anything I like?”
I falter slightly. “Well only if it’s not pussy. I’m not giving you that.”
He throws his head back laughing. “Alys, I’m so offended. I know that I’m a massive rock god who has women weeping over the perfection of my features but even I have to eat breakfast.”
“Oh shut up.” I love it when it’s just the two of us and I make him laugh like this. It gives me the same warm feeling that I get whenever I know that I’ve pleased him in some way. “Okay, name the breakfast.”
“Can I have Eggs Benedict?”
I smile because he looks like a little boy at this moment. “Of course.”
He looks astonished. “What really? You can make that? I’ve only ever had it in hotels.”
“Of course I can.” I smile. “Much as I like the way that you’re looking at me as if I’ve discovered how to invent time travel Bram, I have to tell you that it’s an easy dish to make. Mostly anyone can make that.”
“Not now,” he breathes, making shoo motions. “Get to it quickly.”
I turn and walk out of the bathroom but stop when he calls my name loudly. “What?”
“Thank you,” he says seriously. He’s all beautiful man standing there at this moment but what catches my breath is the glimpse that I have of the young boy who seems to have never had anyone taking care of him in the new world that he found himself in.
“It’s my pleasure,” I say softly and it is.
***
A week later I lie in bed reflecting on how this feeling lasted all week during which I fussed over him, getting his pills and cooking his favourite foods. Th
e next day he’d had a very expensive navy and white flowered eiderdown delivered, and that night and every night since he’d insisted that we curl up under it and work our way through the box sets of ‘Suits’. I’d snuggled next to him enjoying his warmth and strength and feeling closer to him every time. I’d felt needed and useful and that I was good for him rather than an unwanted visitor and a nuisance like I’d been throughout my childhood once my mum had died.
He’d taken everything that I’d done for him with a kind of astonished gratitude and I’d smiled when I realised that he was eking out his invalid status, claiming aches and pains that I knew were non-existent so that I would cosset him. I let it go, enjoying giving him something that he hadn’t had since he lived with his mum.
A sudden urgent bang on the door has me jerking up in bed and looking at the clock. It’s 2 in the morning. Before I can shout to come in the door opens and a hand snaps the overhead light on making me gasp and shield my eyes for a second. “What on earth?” I ask looking at Bram as he hovers looking sick and agitated. “What is it Bram? Are you in pain?”
He shakes his head turning to the wardrobe to start rifling through it. He says something but I can’t hear him so I say Bram warningly and then fumble for my hearing aid by the side of the bed.
He comes back to the bed wringing his hands slightly and waiting for me to finish. “Sorry,” he says in a rush. “You usually hear most things so I take it for granted sometimes.”
I smile at him no longer feeling any trace of embarrassment. “It’s okay. My hearing’s always a bit crap when I wake up, or if I’ve had the hearing aid out for some time.” I stop, seeing that unusually for him he’s not paying attention. “What is it?” I ask alarmed, suddenly seeing his pale, clammy skin and sweaty forehead. “Oh Bram babe what’s happened?”
He comes down on the bed next to me so suddenly that I gasp, and then he’s hugging me close burying his head in my neck. “Bram?” I urge but he shakes his head violently and I leave him be, stroking the messy waves of his hair and feeling his stubble against my throat. After a minute he raises his head and I exclaim as I see how wet his eyes are.
“It’s Sid,” he finally says.
“Oh my God no Bram. What’s happened?” I think back to the beautiful damaged man that I’d met a few weeks ago.
“He’s overdosed.” His voice is so hoarse that I can hardly understand him.
“Is he …?” I falter slightly unable to say the words to someone as devastated as Bram is.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know much. Charlie said he was holding on when they got to the hospital, but they’ve taken him away and he doesn’t know anymore.” He stares at me grabbing my hands fiercely. “Alys I have to go to the hospital.” He stops and flushes slightly.
“Of course you do,” I urge wondering why he’s made this pit stop. He’s never done this before, letting me know that he’s going out, and tonight I’d have expected him to be straight out of the door.
“I just …” He stammers slightly and then looks at me pleadingly. “Will you … Will you go with me Alys?”
“To the hospital?” I clarify and he nods adamantly.
“Yes please. Will you come with me?” I open my mouth to remind him that this isn’t my place. This is a time for the boys and their other halves not for a lodger, but the words die when he says passionately, “I need you with me please Alys. I just … I can’t do this without you. When I’m with you I’m calmer. I won’t spin out and I can’t go without you. Please?”
There’s nothing more to be said. “Of course I will,” I say softly, and he sighs in relief kissing my fingers gratefully.
“Thank you babe,” he mutters. “I’ll go downstairs and get the car keys. Can you get dressed quickly? I don’t want to waste any time.”
I nod and he darts out of the room. I throw on my skinny jeans and an oversized green jumper, slip into some ballet flats, and rush downstairs tying my hair back in a low ponytail and grabbing my jacket from its usual position on the side chair in the foyer. He’s pacing back and forwards looking dishevelled and I dart forward straightening the collar of his shirt and then grabbing his coat. He takes it impatiently and I smile understandingly.
“It’s freezing outside Pip, don’t be a twat.”
He smiles, a mere movement of his mobile lips, and then we’re off into the night.
Bram
London’s streets are never empty but there isn’t much traffic at 2 am which leaves me far too much time to think. I tap my fingers restlessly on the steering wheel and part of me distantly realises that I’m marking out the time for ‘She’s All That’ which was one of our first number one’s. The latest Chase & Status album is playing very faintly and Alys is curled up in the passenger seat. She’s staring out of the window quietly, but I know that all her attention is on me and the quiet is her way of leaving me alone until I’m ready to talk.
Ever since I was little no one could ever pry problems out of me until I was ready to talk, but no one ever quite got that. My aunt and uncle just kept going, growing more and more frustrated. I both hate and love it that Alys knows this about me after only a few short months. I love it because with her I have a connection that goes beyond anything that I’ve ever felt, even with Matt and Sid. We just get each other and every day that goes by I feel more and more close to her. I want her to be happy and safe and content, but selfishly I want to be the one that gives her those feelings, not someone else.
This last week I’ve never felt so absorbed by another person and certainly never with a woman. Everything she does fascinates me and I found myself asking her endless searching questions while lying under an eiderdown pretending to watch that series that I know she’s wanted to watch for ages. I’ve never been like that with a woman before. We’d fuck and as long as she got off and wasn’t expecting anything from me then the balance was maintained. I was heartless and fancy free.
However, paradoxically I hate all these new feelings. I don’t want to need someone. I don’t want to feel incomplete without someone being there. I know that relationships don’t last with me because there’s something in me that doesn’t encourage women to want more. Of course they want marriage, but that’s money talking.
People have always said that I’m frivolous and superficial and maybe I am, but underneath that there’s more, a side that I don’t want anyone to see and she’s getting perilously close to seeing over the edge. I hate that tonight I felt like I was drowning in panic with my only thought being to get to her. She calms me just by being near her and tonight I’d needed that. As soon as I’d been in her room breathing in her warm scent of Dune perfume and feeling her arms around me, I’d suddenly been able to think clearly like someone had wiped clean a window to the outside.
I feel my heart beating like the fast drum solo that Seth does when we’re playing live and I massage my chest. Fuck, I feel like I might have a heart attack which I’d worry about but I know it’s panic. I can’t get into anything with her because the people who love me leave, and I can’t bear the idea of never seeing her again.
At the thought of leaving my mind immediately shifts to Sid and I feel anger run through me like fire. That stupid fucking bastard. He could die tonight and it’s all his fault. Please don’t leave me I beg him in my head silently, the way I have done for months now.
Thoughts of the two of us through the years rush through my head. Months spent sharing the same room while we toured the world. Schooldays spent together skiving off to go to HMV and buy music. Afternoons spent passionately debating who was better - Led Zeppelin or Genesis. The times he was there when my uncle hit me. He was just always there, a calm, funny foil to my teenage madness. We’d fit together like peas in a pod, and the idea that I might have to go on living in a world that doesn’t have him in it anymore makes me want to fucking weep.
I’m only aware that I’m still rubbing my chest when Alys puts her hand over mine stopping the absentminded gesture. I jerk slightly as her
touch zips through me like I’m holding an exposed wire. She looks at me curiously. “It’s alright Bram,” she says softly, her warm Irish voice with that flat undertone filling the car and my head like always so I can’t concentrate on anything but her.
“You don’t know that,” I mutter, but a part of me hears the begging undertone in my voice. Yes, tell me that he’s going to pull through. If you tell me that it will be true. I’ll believe you.
“I know I don’t know that a stòr, but he was found quickly from what you’ve said and he’s in the best place to be safe. You never know but this may be the best thing that’s happened to him. Maybe it’s the shock that will finally get him clean.”
I want so much to believe the simple conviction in her voice but we’ve been down this road so many times. So many interventions. So many tears and begging and him acquiescing, and all of us knowing that deep down he was never going to get clean, that we could lose him any day because he didn’t care enough about himself, let alone us, to get healthy again.
That impotent anger fills me again like it has every day for months when I think of Sid, and then I’d reach for the alcohol or another bird or my guitar, anything to get my thoughts away from one of the best friend’s that I’ve ever had dying in front of my eyes slowly.
“I guess we’ll see,” I say finally, becoming aware that I haven’t answered. “We’re here.” I pull into a parking space, the dark shape of the hospital looming over me like some sort of cartoon villain’s house. I smell her warm orange and vanilla scent and feel her hand creep into mine and squeeze, and some of her comfort seeps into me shouldering out all these bad thoughts. I squeeze it hard. If I have her here with me I don’t think anything can happen that’s so bad that I can’t cope with it. But how long will she stay?
Chapter Eight
Alys
We walk into the hospital holding hands. I expect him to drop mine when he becomes aware of that but instead he squeezes it tightly, keeping me near him all the way up in the lift as he stands behind me, leaning on me and occasionally resting his forehead against my hair like he’s drawing strength.
