by Lily Morton
Matt
I watch John walk coolly into the house and up the stairs, my mouth hanging open slightly. What the fuck just happened? Twenty minutes ago we were the closest that we’ve ever been. I’d told him things that I hesitate to tell anyone and he’d looked after me. For the first time I’d felt heard and that I mattered.
I narrow my eyes because also what about that moment in the car? I know that I didn’t imagine that stiff cock. Well I have imagined it many times, but not this time. He felt it. I know that he did, so why the change?
I turn slowly to look at Ed who is whistling unconcernedly and pulling his cases towards me, probably with the intention that I take them upstairs for him as per every other fucking trip I’ve ever taken with him like I’m some sort of combination butler/daddy.
He suddenly seems to notice the bandage on my arm. “What have you done Matt?”
I pull away from the display of concern which would have been nicer if he’d noticed when he first saw me, rather than metaphorically pissing on me at John’s expense. Even John’s throwaway concern just now means more. “I had an accident at Charlie’s villa. A chisel slipped.”
He pouts. “Matt for fuck’s sake why do you put yourself out for these people? Charlie won’t think any better of you for doing this, and you should have been networking in an air conditioned office rather than on a building site miles away from anyone important.”
This is a topic that I’ve heard enough of over the last few months and I grit my teeth. “Why are you here?”
He looks at me surprised. “I told you. I’m here to get you back. I’m not leaving until I do.”
“Well you’d better prepare John then because I don’t think that he was anticipating a rerun of ‘The Man Who Came to Dinner’ when he issued his invitation.”
“What?”
I shake my head. John would have got the old film reference immediately. That’s one thing I’ve learnt while being here and it’s the difference between being with someone who has something between his ears, as opposed to somebody with just something between his legs.
“I finished with you,” I say through clenched teeth.
He waves his hand cavalierly. “Well you’ve done that before Matty.” I open my mouth to shout at him not to call me Matty but close it as he carries blithely on. “Let’s face it Matt we’re fireworks and flash. We’ve always fought, it’s just the way that we are.”
“Yes, but that’s not a good thing Ed. It’s not something to strive for. I don’t want a relationship based on fireworks and flash because when they’re over they just leave a mess and a nasty smell.”
He stares at me. “What has got into you Matt? I thought you’d be glad to see me.” His face falls and he pouts. I used to find it adorable, but now I just find it very tiring after weeks of being with an actual grown up. “Come on, I know that it’s not over Matt, it’s never over. You and I, we’re going somewhere, you always said that.” His eyes look glassy suddenly. “Unless you really don’t want me anymore?”
Unbidden I feel a sense of pity creep up on me. After all we did have a fairly good year together and surely it’s partly my fault for the way that we’d ended. If I’d let him know how I felt when he behaved badly, if I’d set proper boundaries, perhaps he’d have been better. I don’t want him back but I feel sorry for him now.
He stares at me reading my expression intently like he always did, but for the first time I see something controlling and manipulative in it, where before I just saw someone who cared for me. Perhaps that was the real problem. I saw what I wanted to see.
“Matt,” he says in a wheedling tone. “Just let me stay here for a few days. Give me a chance to show you how it should have been.”
“Ed,” I sigh. “You can stay but -”
“Great,” he interrupts, sending his hand in a warm caress over my groin that just leaves me cold. “I’ll be upstairs. This is a fantastic place but a bit out in the middle of fucking nowhere.” And then he’s gone before I can finish my sentence.
“We’re not ever getting back together.” I finish my sentence anyway but the words just echo emptily in the hallway.
An hour later I approach John’s bedroom door which is firmly closed in a very clear message. I wipe my hands down my shorts, suddenly nervous because it’s occurred to me in that time that maybe he wasn’t put out by Ed’s arrival. Maybe he’s relieved that he’s here. Maybe he’s bored of me and has just been sociable, and I redden at the thought that I’ve let myself get physically closer to him every day thinking that it was reciprocated, when in reality he was probably just being the polite host.
He probably grew up with a large etiquette book. Maybe there was a piece about gay men making fools of themselves over you. I imagine it saying ‘Under no circumstances acknowledge the overtures. Instead treat him in a friendly, welcoming manner and eventually he will go away. Your life can then go back to normal with your perfect wardrobe and your perfect, beautiful wife whose hair is never a mess, and who always knows what fork to use at dinner and never makes remarks about talented penises and wanting to lick you.’
Okay maybe I should stop now. I take a deep breath and then rap on the door.
Hearing him shout to come in I wipe my hand again quickly and then let myself in, making sure to shut the door firmly behind me. I’d lock it too if it wouldn’t probably panic John. I know Ed and if he thinks that I’m attracted to John he will make the situation a billion times more awkward than it’s going to be.
I take a second to quickly look around the room and inhale subtly the scent of his blackberry and bay cologne that he buys from Jo Malone. It permeates the room. As befits the master suite it’s a big room with whitewashed walls and a grey flagstone floor. There’s a flat screen TV on the wall and through one door I can see a gleaming bathroom and through another what looks like a dressing room. His bed is huge with a grey suede headboard and made up with white linen and a grey and sky blue checked throw, and it faces the light oak French windows which are open, letting in a cool breeze and showing the lights of Cannes twinkling like stars.
I glance at where he’s sitting cross legged with his laptop in front of him and a legal pad on the bed beside him full of his slashing bold handwriting. He’s wearing his black framed reading glasses that make him look like a really hot professor. I swallow hard because every time that I interrupt him when he’s wearing them and he looks up at me, his blue eyes far away behind the frames, I want to fuck him really hard until the only thing that he can see and feel is me.
I come back with a start to find him examining me curiously and I swallow hard, thinking horrible thoughts about tax returns until my incipient boner goes down.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice rich as usual but still somehow cool.
I want to shout at him to be normal with me, but I equally don’t want him looking at me like I’m an imbecilic twat so I settle for, “Fine. You?”
He nods coolly. “I had some work to do after the phone call this morning so I thought that I’d get on with it. I hope I’m not being rude but I thought that you’d like some time alone with him.”
“Why?” I ask baldly and he blinks.
“Well reunions and such. You don’t need three people for that.”
I refrain from informing him that over the years I’ve had some very memorable reunions with three people involved. Instead I say, “Well our reunion consisted of me putting him in the room that Viv stayed in, fending off his extreme handiness, and then coping with the massive fit of the sulks which usually happens when he doesn’t get what he wants.”
He’d been fiddling with his pen looking as if he wasn’t really listening, but at that his head shoots up. “I thought that he’d be sleeping in with you.”
I shake my head. “John I’ve done many things that I wish I hadn’t and sleeping with the exes ranks up there along with role play in sexual situations.”
His lips curl at the edges. “Not a fan?”
“
No, it makes me profoundly uncomfortable like I want to hide in a cupboard.” He throws his head back letting out his rare, deep, uninhibited laugh. I love to hear it because it gives me such a feeling of accomplishment when I make him laugh, to the extent that I’m sure some days I’m perilously close to doing jazz hands.
He sobers and fiddles with his pen again and my eyes sharpen as I look at him because I suddenly realise that he’s nervous. John’s usually so self-possessed and can sit in an almost preternatural stillness when he’s concentrating on something. I gesture to the bed. “Can I?”
He stares at me, his bright blue eyes piercing. “You’ve never asked before.”
“I’ve never felt like you were pissed off with me before.”
He jerks. “I’m not pissed off with you.”
“It feels like it, especially now that you’ve holed yourself up in the bedroom to avoid us.”
“Not you,” he says abruptly, and then looks like he wants to slap himself.
“Ah, Ed then. Not a fan?” I say wryly.
He shrugs and says nothing, but I wait him out and eventually he cracks. “So that’s Ed then?”
I catch his eye and bite my lip and he grimaces at me until I laugh out loud. “Say what you think.”
He looks at me seriously and my laughter dies. “You were together for a long time.”
I shrug, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. “A year.”
“He doesn’t seem very you.”
I turn my head to stare at him. “Why?”
He seems to be weighing his words. “Well you’re very easy going and warm, and he’s very … very high maintenance by the look of him.”
“He is, but to be fair I knew that. He never hid it. I just fell into the relationship I suppose. I wanted it to be something that it was never going to be, and that’s my fault because he patently could never give me what I wanted.”
“What’s that?”
I sigh and he looks at me intently, giving me his whole attention the way that he always does when I speak. “To come first I suppose. All my life I’ve been the one to look after people. I give them what they need, I am what they want, but then afterwards there just always seems to be something more important for them to have. Ed would never want the real me. He wants what I became for him - the worldly man with rock star friends. The man who was light hearted and had money. He wouldn’t have stayed around very long for the real me - the serious me that likes the quiet as much as the parties, that likes looking after people, that likes books and cooking and just sitting on a beach looking out to sea.”
“Then he’s an idiot Matt. They were all idiots,” he whispers fiercely, and I look at him with a start and he nods. “He had something that most people look for and he couldn’t see it. That’s his idiocy not yours.”
I snort at his customary autocratic tone that suggests that what he states is the absolute truth, and then I say softly, “I don’t always want to see and be seen at the best parties, because I’ve done that for too many years. I want something real and true.” I pause and shoot him a sideways look. “I want a real partner, not a boyfriend who brings home a twenty two year old twink to make up a threesome for my birthday present.”
“What the fuck?”
I look at him and start laughing helplessly. “I just wanted the latest Jeremy Clarkson biography,” I gasp out, and he starts laughing and soon we’re in fits on the bed rolling around.
The sound of the door interrupts us mid howl and we both fall silent staring at the elegant figure of Ed. He’s leaning on the door staring at us beadily and I sigh inside at that look. I’ve seen it too many times in the past when he’d make a huge scene at someone paying me too much attention. It had led to us being ejected from a couple of parties to my eternal embarrassment, but I hadn’t paid attention to the warning signs and persisted in believing that it meant that he cared. He did I suppose, but only in the way that a dog cares about pissing up a lamppost.
“What’s going on here?” he says coolly. “There’s a lot of hilarity. Don’t tell me that Matty’s found another straight man to convert.”
Bastard I think seeing John flinch. I’m not having a scene in here, not when I’ve just got him laughing again. “Ah alas,” I say lightly, getting to my feet and giving John a hearty slap on his shoulder. “This one is irredeemably straight Ed. He’s straighter than Peter Stringfellow aren’t you Johnny?”
He stares up at me for a second and I think that I’m the only one that sees the hesitation in his eyes, but then he sits up and nods. “I am.”
I shrug as if that didn’t send a shaft of pain through me, and waving goodnight I stroll out of the bedroom no wiser really than when I entered.
John
A week later I sit in my study listening to the sound of ‘John, Johnny!’ echoing through the house. I shudder. I don’t even feel safe in my study anymore. I’d thought about locking the door but he’d only have come through the patio doors instead the way that he did yesterday, coming up behind me while I was staring into space and making me jump.
“John!” the yell sounds again and I grit my teeth finally and shout out ‘in here’.
Matt had taken the cowardly way out and gone back to work a couple of days ago, telling Ed when he complained that if he didn’t like it then he could leave. I’m not sure whether he honestly expected it to work but it hadn’t. Instead his standoffishness seems to be regarded by Ed as some weird form of foreplay, and instead of leaving he has since ensconced himself outside on the patio oiling himself up with suntan oil and wearing the skimpiest pair of trunks that I’ve ever seen.
However, that’s infinitely better than his original outfit, which had been nothing and had totally scandalised Odell who’d threatened to leave. I’d had harsh words with him about the nakedness and his using Odell like she was some sort of slave, shouting for drinks and food whenever he felt like it. Ever since then he’d been sulky with me which had actually suited me because I’d really be happy if he never spoke to me again.
If he was anyone else I’d have asked him to leave, but his connection with Matt means that I can’t. Matt may have decried his relationship but he’d still let him stay and I realised that he never actually said that he didn’t want him back.
So I’ve left him here and had to watch him fawn over Matt and manipulate him. At first when I’d met him I’d dismissed him as a not very bright pretty boy, but after watching him last night with Matt I’d changed my opinion and upped my dislike because what he is, is a very manipulative, opportunistic man.
I’d watched him play Matt only just remembering to close my mouth which had dropped open in amazement as he told sad stories about his childhood, which I’d be prepared to bet were lies. He’d laid himself seemingly bare while at the same time admiring my Rolex and managing to convey the idea that his pain would be eased by having one.
He didn’t do it that brashly of course. It was actually a very subtle, masterly performance and I’d be willing to bet that it had taken Matt in many times, because that is his big weak spot. He’s too kind and generous and it makes me furious to think of someone taking advantage of this.
I’d sat there last night and felt a wave of protectiveness roll through me that had rendered me speechless with the realisation that I want to keep that soft underbelly of his safe from scars. I want him to continue to be the warm, caring man that he is without getting hurt. The strength of that feeling, that desire to stand in front of him and take the blows that such kindness draws, astounds me. I’d always looked after Bella and God help anyone who had hurt her, but this white hot feeling of possession and protection is like nothing that I’ve ever felt before.
I come back to the present with a jerk to find Ed in my doorway leaning poised against the wall. “Johnny, do you know when Matt will be back?”
“My name is John, not Johnny,” I say coolly
He affects surprise. “Matt calls you Johnny so I thought it was okay.”
�
�Matt’s a friend.”
His eyes light up with malice and I know that what comes next is going to hurt. “I think it’s so nice that the two of you have become friends,” he says gently. “I would never have seen that coming.” He waits for me to ask why but I just stare at him with a raised eyebrow that unluckily doesn’t deter him. “I mean when we knew you in London he couldn’t stand you.”
I’m ashamed to say that I don’t stop the flinch and his eyes sparkle with enjoyment. “I’m sorry. I hope that I’m not speaking out of turn. I got the feeling that you didn’t really like him much anyway.” He pauses. “But Matt, well he had a really passionate dislike of you. I’ve never seen him like that before because normally he likes everyone.” A smile plays across his lips. “Well everyone except you. He used to go on about how arrogant you were, how you thought you were God’s gift to mankind, when in actuality you were just some poor schmuck whose wife had left him.”
I swallow hard because I feel bruised by this. I don’t know why because I’ve always known that he didn’t like me, but somehow to have it actually confirmed hurts like a bitch and makes me wonder whether he really does like me now or if he’s just too polite to be antagonistic to someone who’s housing him.
I don’t let my feelings show however because better men have tried to hurt me and never succeeded. “I’m so glad that you came in to see me,” I say coldly and he looks slightly worried. “Yes I’m very happy, because what I really needed today was some bimbo twink with a pert backside and a flabby, underused brain to come in and give me the benefit of his sadly lacking wisdom and view of the world. Are you available for the rest of the year Ed, because my life would be sadly lacking if I didn’t have you following me around gifting me with your very important views on how tight one’s trousers should be this year, and whether pink shorts are ever really acceptable in the fashion calendar.”
He glares at me poisonously and opens his mouth to fire God knows what inanities back at me, but a deep voice comes from behind him making him jump. “What’s going on in here?”
