by Claire Davis
Cal went in alone, fuming, and tried to watch TV. The alcohol fog faded, leaving only the timeline fizzing away in his brain. The thing about missing someone was that it got in your bones and infected everything. A missing piece, salt to the pepper, bacon to the eggs. He wasn’t whole any more. Him and Jay, that’s who he was, before he had to go and ruin it all by wanting too much. He had spoken to Jay in some way every day since he was about four years old. The last few years Jay talked and he listened, but his presence was a constant, all mixed together with fear, aching, and love. Cal knew what vegetables he didn’t like, how hot he had his bath, how to make him laugh, and what he sounded like as he came.
He shouldn’t be allowed to miss him, because of what he did.
He couldn’t sit still now Troy was gone. When he was in prison, he had often felt restless and desperate in a way he could not define. He headed out to walk, to walk anywhere, just away from the hostel, just away from himself.
He walked for a long time in the dark, kicking leaves and concentrating on the wind and the smells— the noises of humanity going on around him whilst he looked out from his cage.
****
When Cal got back, Troy and Ashley were in the living room, stretched out completely comatose. Cal was no expert, but he knew what the tin foil was used for.
Ashley saw his face, and started to gather everything up. “Sorry mate. I meant to be gone before you came back.”
“You let your own brother take that shit?” he suddenly shouted, before he had a chance to think better of it, but Ashley said nothing, just smiled sweetly and let himself out. “Fucker,” Cal shouted, as he furiously cleaned up the mess, and opened a window to dispel the smell.
Troy’s pulse was there, he was just asleep after all. Relief washed over Cal as he tried to lift him up to bed. “I love you, Cal. You know that, don’t you?” Troy mumbled, sliding both arms around Cal’s neck, pulling him close.
Cal walked him towards the bed, trying to ignore his warm body pressed so closely to his. “Sure I do. Now come on, let’s get you into bed.”
He helped Troy undress, trying not to notice the taut stomach and beautiful, milky limbs. He tucked him in and was about to leave. Troy grabbed his hand and kissed it, then threw up spectacularly all over the bed. “Oh, fuck,” Cal shouted. “Come on, get out. Let’s get you in the shower, you can’t sleep in that.” He propelled Troy towards the shower, cleaning up as best he could. The quilt was drenched and the room stank of vomit.
He went into his own room and got the bed ready for Troy. When he turned around, he was unprepared for the sight of Troy, naked, standing there. Even off his face and shivering, he was gorgeous, precious, and how the fuck could Cal let Ashley hurt him? “Here you go, get in before you freeze to death,” Cal said gently, averting his eyes.
Troy slid past him and climbed in, then held up the quilt for Cal. “Come on, there’s room for us both. Unless you’re scared of being in bed with a gay bloke.”
Cal shook his head, laughing. “Nope. I’ll just snore and keep you awake. The sofa will be fine for me. See you tomorrow.” He left the door open, in case Troy vomited again in the night and choked on it.
There was a spare blanket which fit around him quite nicely. He lay on his back, and was almost asleep when the sound of anguish and pain woke him again.
Troy was sitting up, his knees drawn up with his head tucked in. Great heaves wracked his body. He felt cold in Cal’s arms, as he stroked his back and hair. “Troy, ssh. It’s okay. Ssh. What’s up, mate?”
“I’m such a fuck up. A total mess.”
“What’s happened?”
“Nothing new, that’s the thing. I just do the same old shit, I’m nothing and nobody.”
“That’s not true. You’re not ‘nothing’ to me, and there’s your singing. You’re good— I heard you, remember? When are you singing next? I’ll come and see you, cheer you on.”
“Really? You’ll come and see me?” The hope in Troy’s face was so bright it took Cal’s breath away. Of course, people still hoped and not everything was old and tarnished.
“’Course I will. Now what’s really up?”
And just like that, Troy’s face went from being young and beautiful to old and weary. He said only one word, “Ashley.”
“Ah. Your brother. Why don’t you just tell him to fuck off?”
Troy started with the hair chewing. “’Cause, I can’t. He’s family. He’d kill me. I can’t just tell him to fuck off. And sometimes, I like going out with him, we have a good time.” Troy shrugged. “He’s all I’ve got.”
“But he’s bad for you. Drugs, stealing cars, dangerous fucking.”
“Haven’t you ever known someone like that, Cal? Who’s really bad for you, but they make you feel like you’re top of the world? Just, you wish they wanted you around so badly, that you put up with anything?”
“Yeah,” Cal answered painfully, trying not to stare at Troy’s nipples, which were hard from the cold, and perfect. “Sure I have, yeah. But if he’s your brother, he’ll want you around whatever.”
“Would you take that risk?”
Cal knew he wouldn’t. He had never once said no to Jay. He stirred, uncomfortably. “Well, goodnight. Don’t worry about it now.”
Troy shifted, and patted the bed. “Come on, get in. There’s loads of room. Please? I don’t want to be alone.”
Cal wavered, but the crooked smile and freckles were impossible to refuse. It was awkward at first, but soon Troy’s head was snuggled into his arm with his leg thrown over Cal’s, fast asleep. How could anyone hurt him? Christ, but Troy was lovely to hold, his naked body pressed so close that his erection pushed against Cal’s thigh.
Some people had this every night and every morning.
****
Chapter Ten
Cal became aware of a hand stroking his stomach, making little circles and gliding over his nipples. He began bucking toward the hand, when a chuckle woke him. Soft lips kissed his neck. “Morning, gorgeous. You’ve got a lovely stomach. Can I have a look at the rest?” Troy asked, beginning to lick behind his ear.
Cal grinned, kissed Troy back on the top of his head, and extricated himself cheerfully. “Cheeky bastard. No you cannot. I cost more than you can afford.”
“That wouldn’t be hard. Unlike my cock.” Troy sniggered. Cal hurried off to the bathroom, laughing at Troy. He showered, unable to prevent himself from jerking off, thinking of that slim body. He washed himself off ruefully, muttering that this had to stop. So much shit to deal with for them both, but every day that passed they grew closer, flirting and playing, messing up Cal’s head.
By the time he was ready, Troy had fallen back asleep, his arms flung out and his wild hair like a black cloud around him. He was bare right down to the small patch of hair below his belly button. Cal caught his breath, mentally kissing all the way down that soft, smooth body, before leaving in a rush.
****
He leant on a wall opposite the care home and breathed deeply. He was going to do it today. Enough wasting time and thinking of things that could never be. He was not going to think about Troy today. He would concentrate only on Alice.
She had been his own mum’s best friend, helping Cal when she died, then sorting out the funeral, and taking him in. During his childhood, he was as much around Alice as his own mum.
He had already written about fifty plans of what to say to her. He knew in theory how he would explain what happened that night, but as the train got nearer the city, he saw how ridiculous that was. He couldn’t tell her he had been in love with Jay since he was a boy and her son was a thug. How could he tell her that?
It looked like a decent place, with flowers in the front and pretty curtains. Alice would like that. Who the fuck was he kidding? Alice would hate being in a care home, would be miserable and confused. It was his fault. He couldn’t do it. He remembered Jay saying to him as teenagers, “Always put yourself first.” He resolutely walked towards the home,
and rang the bell. “Hello, I called earlier. It’s Callum here to see Alice. Her nephew.” A lie of course, but they didn’t seem bothered by who he was. They let him in, and took him to Alice.
She looked very old and fragile, sitting in a large room full of other people, none of them talking and most of them looking glazed. Alice took no notice of him at all, even when he pulled up a chair and held her hand. “Alice. Hello, love. How are you?” Anna was right. Alice was gone. She looked right through him, as if he was not there. This was not the same woman who had looked after him, listened to him, loved him. He could never explain to her now.
But he had to try. “Alice. Do you know who I am?” For an instant, he thought he saw recognition flash in her eyes, but then it was gone. He stroked the hand, noticing the brown spots, and wondering when they had happened. These hands had done so much for him, Jay and Anna, and now they were useless.
He bit his lip and tried again. “Alice, I’m so sorry. About Jay, about what happened to Jay, what I did to Jay. I…” He had to stop. Of course he had to stop. But she didn’t care now because it was too late. Because his actions had already as good as killed her. He would never be able to explain now, and he realised he had been waiting for her to say it was okay, that she understood, because if anyone might have understood, it was Alice. She gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, and forgave everything.
He gave up, kissed her hand and her cheek, and politely left, sat in a nearby park just listening to the birds and the ringing in his head.
****
On the way home, thoughts of Troy filled his head again, because he was weak, lonely and beaten. He passed a Chinese takeaway, and went in. It was dark by the time he neared the flat, carrying takeaway and with a head like swirling waters.
The music playing in the flat was loud and manic. There were cans everywhere, and the smoke was like a filthy blanket. He sighed, turned down the music, and began to clear away. The moans from Troy’s room began the minute he turned off the music. There was no doubt what Troy was doing in there. The other guy was grunting loudly as the bed rattled against the wall.
Just how many men was Troy fucking? He mentally chided himself, but couldn’t prevent the hard on, or bullet of jealousy. The man practically screamed as he came, for God’s sake, causing Cal to swear uncomfortably, then quietly leave the flat. Cal had never come like that, certainly not from being fucked. Was it even possible?
He didn’t want Troy to know he was around. It wasn’t fair. It was no business of his what Troy got up to. He wandered around miserably for an hour, before going back. The flat was quiet except for the sound of the shower.
The only evidence was a couple of used condoms in Troy’s bin, not that he was checking.
Troy bounded in naked, hair still wet. “Awright, Cal? Where’ve you been all day? Is this takeaway for us?”
Cal grinned, his spirits lifting from the darkness a little, trying not to ogle the firm body in front of him. “Yes, none of your business, and yes.”
“Sorry about the noise. You didn’t have to go though, you could have beat off; I wouldn’t mind.”
Cal snorted, embarrassed but impressed. There was no way him and Jay could have ever talked like that about sex. “Get your skinny butt on this chair and eat.” He swatted at Troy’s smooth arse as he went past. “Is it your singing thing tonight?” Troy’s face lit up.
“You remembered! You’re still coming, right?”
Cal nodded as he ate. “Sure am. What are you going to sing?”
“Mostly old stuff, the punters like that. You know, really old songs, from your bygone era.”
“Cheeky bastard. I’m only six years older than you. Fuck off.”
Troy stuck his tongue out at him, and began to tell Cal about his latest conquest. It made Cal’s insides twist, but he was better off keeping away from Troy, because no good could come of it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from thinking of that scream though, later.
****
Troy was very secretive about his singing act, saying only that the night would be full of surprises. Cal could hear him in the shower, singing loudly and talking to himself as he washed. He always spent hours in the bathroom. Cal shouted out to him. “Hurry up. What are you doing in there?”
“Bathing in milk. Beauty like mine requires dedication and skill.”
Cal snorted, and scrutinised his own reflection. He was a nice looking guy, blond hair and blue eyes, wiry and slim, six feet tall. Before going to prison, he had taken care of his appearance, but now he rarely looked in the mirror, only for shaving or when he was at the barber’s. Whatever he looked like, it had not been enough for Jay.
And there he was again, in Cal’s head, as big a part of him as every guilty secret. When they were teenagers, they had often got ready to go out together, swapping jeans and deodorant, naked and easy around each other even after the fucking started.
Once they moved into their first flat together, Jay was busy and had no time for Cal any more.
“Penny for them? You look fuckable.” Troy appeared, whistling, wearing skin tight trousers and a top that said ‘The Forest Savage’. He perched on the edge of the table and looked Cal up and down. “How come you got no girlfriend? You’re a lovely bloke, nice looking. What’s up with you?”
Cal bared his teeth. “It’s my fangs, it puts them off,” he hissed.
Troy leaned back on his hands, looking dangerously good, all shaggy hair and clothes that looked painted on. His nipples stuck out through the tiniest T-shirt Cal had ever seen. “Show me your fangs then, impaler.”
Cal leaned over him, and somehow his lips were kissing wet skin. What was he doing? Flustered, he turned, messing about with the plates. Eventually he risked a quick look back at Troy, who was staring at him, frowning. He had never kissed Jay’s neck. The clock ticking was so loud, and surely the fridge didn’t usually hum like that? Troy stood up abruptly, grabbing his guitar. “We ready then, Cal?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
They began the walk to the pub, Cal wishing he was better at chat. “You seem quiet. Nervous? Stop chewing your hair, you’re messing it up.”
Troy grabbed Cal’s arm, looking terrified. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother, I haven’t practiced enough just lately.”
“Troy, you’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. You’ve done pubs before. I thought they loved you?”
“Yeah, but that’s my usual spot. This is much bigger— it’s an open night, so anyone could turn up. There’s gonna be loads of people watching. They’re not gonna like someone like me.”
“I thought you wanted a bigger crowd?” Cal took Troy’s hand and squeezed it, tight.
“Yeah, I do. But what if I’m crap? I’m not very good at anything, Cal.”
Cal felt fierce, and slipped an arm around Troy’s shoulders. “You won’t be crap because you’re good. Remember that. Okay?”
****
The pub was a heaving mass; too many people, most of them drunken, ruddy-faced men. “Oh fuck, there was a football match earlier,” Troy shouted. “I’m dead meat.”
Pushing past the crowd was difficult, but eventually they got near the stage.
“Cal, I don’t wanna do it.”
“But you’re good, it’ll be okay. Yeah, I’m sure it will,” Cal shouted back half-heartedly, as Troy disappeared into the back, Cal’s gut twisted with anxiety.
A roll of thunder loud drums, head crushingly loud guitars, and the first act began. They were good, and soon the crowd was cheering and the pub vibrated with noise and energy. Cal felt the vibrating of rhythm, the steady beat of the music and the irresistible rush of excitement as his hips joined the sway and his shoulders broke free of inhibition.
The crowd moved like a tidal wave, transporting that drab basement into a buzzing, rolling ride of energy and the thrill of being alive. It was electrifying, like nothing else he had ever experienced, but he was as lost as everyone else.
As the band began to wind
down with dizzying vocals and dedications, he became a nervous mess of anticipation to see what Troy could do, joining in as the crowd called for the next act.
“Come on, come on,” they chanted, as Cal jostled for a better position at the front.
The atmosphere changed the instant Troy stepped onto the dimly lit stage, the luminous lettering of ‘The Forest Savage’ like eerie green blood. Bold, black eyeliner and bright red lipstick adorned his face like challenging war paint. He spread his legs and gazed out, looking spiky, wild, and fabulous.
As one, the crowd drew breath and waited. Whispers and mutterings began firing around the room like cruel rumours.
“Is that a bloke or a girl?”
“It’s Boy George!”
“Show us yer tits, darling.’”
Cal clenched his fists and felt the sweat drip, drip, on the small of his back. Start, just start, he mentally implored, clenching his teeth so tightly that quick bursts of manic fire shot before his eyes.
Troy saw him, stared and froze, huge eyes firing icy darts straight to Cal’s heart, bringing him back to life. He smiled, and Troy began. He was good, his voice unusual and startling. He was likely the best act the pub had ever seen, but so out of place it was painful to witness. The crowd grew restless as sweat from Cal’s hands dripped on the floor.
The first insults started, then a ricochet, and the whole audience was shouting abuse at Troy. A bottle landed and smashed on stage. Troy and his guitar were drenched with beer and shards of glass.
Cal couldn’t watch. Every muscle in his body clenched, as he fervently, silently urged Troy to just go, and forget it. He froze in shock as Troy snarled, hurled the guitar into the crowd, shouting back obscenities, then launched himself straight at them. Troy was swarmed, and even though he was one man against so many, he fought them furiously. For a few moments, Cal was unable to believe the panic that erupted, but adrenaline and outrage kicked in as he saw blood on Troy’s face.
It was not pretty, but he clawed his way in, managing to drag Troy away by the waist. His arms and legs continued kicking and punching until they got outside.
