Friends and Memories

by Alexi Wakefield

  His father.

  It was his father.

  But Edward wasn't his father. And Edward was gone.

  Doctor Ellis was there and a nurse and they were talking about sedation.

  He realised he was still screaming. Embarrassed, he stopped and curled up into a ball and cried, very quietly, so the adults wouldn't hear him.

  ***

  George knocked on Edward’s door again and listened for signs of life. Nothing. He sighed and remembered the old Edward answering the door once dressed as a lion prince and wearing a tiara. He never did find out what that was about.

  “Ed!” he shouted. “It’s fucking cold out here! …Well,” he huffed, “alright, it’s quite mild for the time of year, but I am getting bored.” He put his ear to the door. Still nothing. “Edward!” he bellowed.

  He heard metal scraping against metal and the door swung opened slowly revealing a tired looking man. “Am I in trouble?”

  “No of course not, why?”

  “You called me Edward.”

  “Don’t be silly.” George swept in and gathered Edward into his arms in the same movement. Edward nestled against his chest and encircled his waist with his arms. “So, what’s he done now?”

  Edward froze in his arms, “Who?”

  “You know who, you called me before I left work. All I could make out between the sobs was ‘Francis’ and ‘can’t do this anymore.’”

  “Oh him.”

  “Yeah him. Come on, talk.” George looked around at the discarded takeaway boxes littering the room, even more worried now than when Edward had called him. Edward could be disorganised at times but was always clean. There were a few flies in one of the boxes.

  “He wanted me.” Edward looked up with an attempted smile. “I know everyone wants me, even the straight guys but he really wanted me. I could see it and feel it in his whole body.”

  “And then he reacted?”

  “No, not at first. There was so much love in him George, so much passion. I’ve always known it was there but today he finally let me past all the rows of prickles and into the soft middle bit,” Edward's words came out in a rush, “it was like a dream. He was tender and caring and sweet and… and then he was screaming and something in me broke and I ran.” He took a gulp of air and continued, “I needed him so much. And I thought I was being rewarded for being there for him every day, isn’t that how it works? You do a good deed and you get rewarded.”

  “Not always Ed.” George squeezed him. “Look you’ve got to stop doing this, it’s killing you.”

  “I can’t abandon him. He's only got us.”

  “Nobody is going to abandon anyone. Look, I’ll help you clean this mess up and then you’re coming to stay with me for a few days. OK?”

  “What about Francis?”

  “Leave him to me.”

  George walked the well-trodden path through the ward and into Francis’s room where he remained standing and barked, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Francis greeted weakly. He was lying on his side and didn't even raise his head. Still feeling sorry for himself then. George frowned as Francis asked, “How's Ed?”

  “Edward is turning into a basket case. A miserable one,” George clarified, “not the usual cheerful one.”

  “I’m so sorry. But I know what it is now. I know why I’ve been so-”

  “I don’t give a shit Francis.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Yes, I care about you but I care about Ed too and your behaviour is shredding him, he’s absolutely shattered.”

  “But I need him now. I think I can-”

  “Francis. Just shut up with the -I this- and the -I that- and listen to me. Here’s how it's going to be. Firstly Ed has to come first for a while, you put your own needs on hold until Ed’s back to his normal irritating self. Is that understood?”

  Francis nodded. “OK, and secondly?”

  “Secondly you are going to stop moping and get back on your feet.” He grabbed Francis under the armpits, remembering that Edward had said it was OK there, and dragged him out of the covers to the edge of the bed and up into a sitting position.

  “Get off me,” Francis snarled and aimed a punch but George lazily side stepped it. “Piss off.” Francis tried a kick next which caught George on the shin.

  George winced and said, “That’s more like the old Francis.”

  “I can’t stand up yet, I’ve tried but I don’t have the leg strength.”

  “Then try harder.” George pulled his friend up onto his feet, supporting him under his armpits. Francis grabbed his shoulders and clung on tight. George lowered his arms, keeping them ready to catch Francis if need be but Francis leaned against him and held on, keeping his weight over his legs.

  “Shit this hurts,” Francis muttered against George’s chest.

  “Good hurt or bad hurt?”

  “Good hurt,” Francis gasped. “Mostly.”

  “And thirdly-”

  “There’s a thirdly?”

  “Yep. Thirdly: Doctor Ellis said you are well enough to come home weekends.”

  “I know, but she said I wasn't suitable for that, because I live alone.”

  “So, you’re coming home with me this weekend.”

  Francis looked stunned. “Really? You’ll take me in?”

  “Of course.”

  Francis was wobbling now so George lowered him back down to sit on the bed. “Thank you,” Francis said. “I mean, thank you for everything.”

  George grunted in acknowledgment. “There’s something you should know, I’ve got Edward staying with me while he recovers from Francis-itis.”

  Francis said, “I’m that bad huh?” but there was a flicker of life in his eyes at the news.

  “Yep. So I’m supervising you around him. Which leads me to; fourthly-”

  “How many of these are there?”

  “Just this one, then I’m done.”

  Francis gave such a curt nod that just for a second George forgot anything had happened to his friend. He blinked away the recognition and said, “Fourthly: If you scream or shout when I’m sleeping after a night shift I will break your neck. Got that?”

  “Yes.” Francis nodded again.

  “Good.” George left feeling satisfied and rewarded himself with a chocolate from the vending machine on his way out.

  Chapter Nine

  Francis awoke to an argument in the kitchen. It seemed to be about eggs. Edward was of the opinion he could make an omelette without breaking them and George was of the mind that he couldn’t. Edward said something about sucking and blowing and George said something about mess and cleaning up. Francis had to smile as he propped himself up on the sofa bed. Edward was sleeping on an airbed in George’s room and snored, or so George had complained, until Edward had sniggered that George’s own snoring measured on the Richter scale.

  It had been four days, as of that morning, since Francis had screamed at Edward and he hadn’t seen him since then until last night when George brought him home from the hospital. They had smiled at each other but not said more than a few words. Francis had noted with a twinge of sadness how much better Edward looked after time away from him, the lines of tiredness gone completely and the sparkle back in his green eyes.

  George came in and smiled to see him awake. Then without much in the way of warning he pulled Francis to his feet.

  “And good morning to you too,” Francis grunted as he walked to the kitchen with George’s support. He’d been expecting this kind of rough treatment so had been working very hard on his leg muscles for the past three days. George got him to a chair and waited while Francis sat himself down in front of an omelette.

  Edward smiled shyly from across the table. Francis smiled back but didn’t say anything, not wanting to risk upsetting either Edward or George after he’d been taken in like this, it meant such a lot to him to get out of the hospital for a couple of days. They ate in silence and Francis felt guilty because he knew his friends would h
ave been engaged in playful banter if it weren't for his presence. A phone rang and they all jumped in unison.

  It was George’s, “Yes?” he answered. “What? ...On a Saturday? …No I suppose they don’t... Let me check-” He put his hand over the microphone. “Christian’s wife has gone into labour, he wants me to cover the rest of his shift. Can I leave you two for a couple of hours and not come back to an emotional apocalypse?” He glowered at Edward who nodded, then at Francis who did the same. “I’m on my way,” he said into the phone and went to get changed. Francis and Edward just looked at each other. After a minute George emerged in uniform and looked backwards and forwards between them. “Be good,” he grunted and left.

  Francis sighed and stared down at the pinewood table. He could hear the kitchen clock ticking if he listened carefully.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Edward asked. “Are you still upset with me?”

  “No.” Francis shook his head vigorously, “I was never upset with you Edward, I’m so sorry about screaming like that, I didn’t even know until…”

  “Know what?”

  Francis kept his eyes on the lines of wood grain on the table, following them until he got to a knot. “It was my father. He abused me when I was little. For years I think.”

  “Oh no.”

  Francis saw a hand appear over the knot he was studying so held onto it and said, “The suppressed memories triggered the reactions. Or that’s how Sandra put it. Before, when I could remember, I think it was the reason why I didn't have relationships.”

  “So did I remind you of him? Did I hurt you in some way?”

  “No, of course not. I can’t explain it; it’s not rational at all it’s just sometimes…” Francis trailed off.

  Edward squeezed his hand and asked, “But it can’t feel the same can it? I mean, a relationship is different from abuse.”

  “I know that. But on some level my body doesn't.” Francis tightened his grip on Edward’s hand. “I’m glad I remembered. I wasn’t for a start, it seems a stupid thing to say but it made me feel worse that it was my father rather than anyone else, I mean he was supposed to love me and protect me, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. But… well we can’t choose our parents.” Edward looked down at the table. “My father is in prison for murder.”

  “Oh Edward, I’m sorry. Do you ever go and see him? What about your Mother?”

  Edward swallowed and was silent.

  It took a few seconds for realisation to dawn on Francis. “Oh, shit. Edward…”

  Edward smiled weakly. “You said that the first time I told you as well. But you never treated me any differently afterwards.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Some people do. But not you and not George.”

  “Were you… did your father attack you too?”

  “No. They always argued but he was never violent, as least not that I saw. Then one day I came home from school and there was police tape and they wouldn’t let me in and…”

  Francis rubbed Edward’s hand and wrist, trying to provide comfort. All this time he’d been focused on himself when Edward must have been through far worse, and yet Edward was a cheerful extrovert, the exact opposite of himself.

  Edward said, “We’re kind of the same aren’t we, bad daddies and dead mummies. Do you think that’s why we became security guards? Because we wanted to be better people?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever know that. I still don’t really remember anything, just sometimes things feel familiar. That might be all I’ll ever get, but I’m learning to live with it. What about you?”

  “I’ve always known...” Edward screwed his face up in thought, “that I look hot in uniform… And since I was too dumb for the police, decision made really.”

  “Edward you’re not dumb, you’re very perceptive for one thing. And you’ve handled everything that’s happened to you far better than I have. I think I’ve always blamed my past for who I am, let it define me. You’ve risen so far above yours that it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

  “You think so? Because I dunno. I think maybe I look outwards all the time because sometimes it’s not very nice to look inwards. But I don’t think about it that much really, my head’s so full of other things like: I wonder what that cake tastes like, and; isn’t Francis’s bum cute when he walks, and; where did the rest of my clothes go? And…would Francis let me kiss him again?” Edward smiled very sweetly. “Things like that.”

  “I wish I didn’t have such a problem with…intimacy. But Sandra seems to think I can overcome it, now I know what it is. I will overcome it.” He was inspired by Edward, “I’ll just need a very patient partner.”

  “Sounds like a job for Edward Royal.” Edward’s sweet smile spread into a grin that was downright cheeky.

  “No Ed, you’ve done more than enough.” Edward’s face fell. “I can’t put you through it all over again, not when you're feeling better now.”

  “Hey I wasn’t ill, just tired is all. A lot of that was double shifts at work but I’m a single guy now.”

  “But I know it was hurting you, and I care too much about you to keep doing it.” Especially with what I know now.

  “So somebody else will get to be your first kiss, first fuck, first blow-”

  “You were my first kiss.”

  “Oh. Well...I’d have liked a shot at the others too. I know could make it good for you. I am good in bed.” Edward grinned. “If you don’t believe me, I can provide references.”

  “That’s part of the problem,” Francis said sadly. “It’s clear that you are a lot more... ambitious in bed than I’ll ever be.”

  “Hey it’s up to me to decide what I want in bed.” Edward was frowning now. “And who I want. If you don’t want me just say so.”

  Francis opened his mouth but nothing came out. He did want Edward. More than anything. But now he was upsetting him yet again and George’s words were still ringing in his ears. He held his hands up. “Look, let’s not discuss this right now.” Edward pulled a face at him. “Could we just go and watch TV until George comes back?”

  Edward’s face was split by a sudden grin. “Great idea. There’s cartoons on Saturday mornings.” Edward helped Francis up, and they walked in to the lounge together, Edward’s arm wrapped tightly around Francis who was embarrassed to find himself getting an erection after what he’d just said. They collapsed down on the sofa, Francis landing on Edward's lap. He was completely hard now but if Edward noticed he didn’t comment on it. Instead he reached for the remote, brushing Francis’s neck with his arm in the process. Francis hurried to shuffle off Edward’s lap but stayed close to him. Close enough to feel the warmth from that body.

  The TV on, Edward started giggling at the slapstick humour of what looked like a vintage cartoon. It wasn’t very funny as far as Francis could see but he loved feeling Edward respond to the humour after their serious discussion. Love? Where had that word come from? But Edward was special, he knew that now, and maybe if he stayed close and let it happen then a little Edward would rub off on him. He looked up at Edward’s flushed cheeks as he guffawed at something stupid a moose was doing. Francis felt his own cheeks flush but it wasn't moose related. He let his head fall onto Edward's chest and hoped it would be taken as muscle weakness. Edward wrapped an arm around him and Francis felt protected. Safe.

  The cartoons finished and another programme came on. “Ugh,” Edward said, “cooking. Do you want this on?”

  “No,” Francis said, still leaning against Edward’s chest.

  Edward flicked the TV off then kissed Francis’s hair, “Anyone done that before?”

  “No.”

  “Another first for me then.”

  Francis placed a palm on Edward’s chest. “Still upset?”

  “Thinking about you being with someone else will always upset me.”

  “Sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

  “With cookie? Now it’s been a few days I miss that.”

  Francis slid
his hand across Edward’s chest, his palm could feel the muscles there and his fingers detected a heartbeat. He moved his hand downwards and tucked it under Edward’s T-shirt then went back to the same spot as before, only over bare skin this time.

  “Mmmh,” Edward said and looked happy. Francis let his hand slowly explore Edward’s chest, feeling for nipples, armpits, navel. Edward made more happy sounding noises. By the time Francis got round to running his fingers along the top of Edward’s jeans there was a tent of fabric there, matched by one under his own trousers.

  “Would you mind?” Edward said undoing his own belt.

  “Not at all,” Francis said and helped Edward push his trousers down. Edward’s cock sprang out and Francis was a little surprised to see it, even though he’d known it was there. It was different from his father's cock. How did he know that? Another memory. His Father’s had been short and thick and hurt him.

  Francis was starting to breathe a bit faster. Not again. He forced himself to breathe in and out slowly as Sandra had shown him and distracted himself with Edward’s cock. Edward sat patiently while Francis looked at it and reached a tentative hand out. It was long and graceful with an elegant curve. Francis giggled. He’d never imagined a cock being elegant. Ed giggled as well before asking, “What are we laughing about. Not my man part I hope?”

  “No, it’s beautiful.” Francis ran his fingers up and down it and could feel a pulse. “Show me how to, I mean show me how you…”

  “Make it erupt?”

  “Yeah that.”

  Edward curled his fingers around it, stroking it and reaching around to fondle his balls with his other hand. Francis watched, fascinated by Edward's movements and the change in his friend’s breathing as pre-cum beaded on his cock.

  Francis knew that he must have done this to himself, probably while looking at those photos of Edward, but this vantage point was unfamiliar. Edward’s breathing was ragged now and Francis’s breath caught in his throat.

  Then Edward removed his hand from his appendage and said, “Please Francis.” Francis took it and stroked it just as Edward had done. “Harder and faster,” Edward whispered, so Francis gripped tighter and speeded up and Edward came, spurting onto his t-shirt with a gasp. Francis kept going until Edward’s cock went limp, then looked at Edward’s dilated pupils and flushed cheeks.