Chapter 22
Harvey
For the next couple of days, we spoke on the phone. Killian said the manager was great and he couldn’t wait to get started. Things were finally coming together.
This wasn’t how I envisioned things going. We’d only just begun to know each other, and now, we were miles apart.
I checked my phone every couple of minutes to see if he’d called or texted, only for my heart to sink when there was nothing. I pulled his number up more than once, my finger hovering over the green call button, but what was the point?
I knew he was busy and, well, I wasn’t.
I’d given up my job, fed up with the daily commute and the unfulfilling work. I hadn’t even said goodbye; I just didn’t bother turning up. They’d easily find a replacement. The job I’d done wasn’t that difficult. Hell, I did it, so it couldn’t have been.
But it left me at a loose end every day of the week. At least when I had a job, I had purpose, a reason to get out of bed. Now, I stayed there until I felt like getting out of bed, but it was later each day. My brain liked order and disliked chaos, and right then, things were chaotic.
I finally rolled out of bed at eleven, made coffee, and sat at my computer, wondering what the hell to do today.
My session with Julie wasn’t until tomorrow. Killian was down in London. Maybe I should draw, but even that didn’t appeal. All my gaming friends wouldn’t be around until later tonight.
For the first time in a while, my skin itched. I’d been so wrapped up in Killian that the thoughts had slipped into the background, but now, with nothing to do, one by one, they slowly resurfaced.
What you do is disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself.
I rubbed my arms, but that wasn’t helping, so I scratched hard, red welts forming where my nails had been.
No, I had to stop. I’d made too much progress to falter now, but still, the itching spread to my back and torso.
You know what to do.
Except I didn’t want to. I jumped off the chair and ran to the shower, turning the water as hot as I could, hot enough to hurt. It was better than the itching that called to me.
I stood for as long as I could before stepping out. I was so hot, like needles sticking in my skin.
I wiped the condensation from the mirror and looked at my face, now red and blotchy. I’d filled out, my face less gaunt than it’d been in previous months.
I couldn’t believe the difference since meeting Killian. He’d brought a light into my life that hadn’t been there for months. No, years. Yet those damn voices persisted now no one was here to tame them.
Was I willing to jeopardise what we had?
What do you have, loser?
No, we had something. I knew we did. Whatever it was had charged through my life like a runaway freight train, sweeping me along to an unknown destination.
It had been scary at first until we’d settled into a comfortable rhythm. Meals out, late-night phone calls, regular texts, affection.
I didn’t begrudge him this shot at fame. Fuck, he deserved it, but I couldn’t help but think about where this would leave me.
Call me selfish, but weren’t we all like that to a certain extent?
I wanted it for him, but I deserved something, too. I just didn’t know what. I’d lived so long in the shadows, lived with nothing to look forward to, and then he’d come along with his effortless grace, good looks, and eyes that shone with excitement.
What would I do if it were all to end?
I’d experienced abandonment before, and alone in my house, I wasn’t sure I could face it again.
Killian wouldn’t want me hanging around him when success came calling.
He’d find someone else who better fit his image.
I wasn’t it. I should end it now before my heart hurt any more than it did already.
Before the inevitable crash, but it was too late for that. I’d already fallen for him.
Look at me now, standing naked in a hot, steamy bathroom, contemplating my life choices.
This wouldn’t do. I hadn’t fought to get this far, battled with my inner demons and won, only to have them take over my life again.
I dressed quickly, found my phone, and fired off a quick text.
Harvey: How long are you in London for?
To my surprise, he messaged straight back.
Killian: A few more days. Why?
Harvey: I could get on the next train. Come to you.
The dots bounced, then disappeared, then started again.
Killian: That’d be fantastic, Harv, but I have a lot of meetings and dinners.
My heart sank. Of course he did. Why did I think he’d have time?
The phone rang. It was him.
“Hey, Harv. I’d love for you to come down to me in London, but I’m not sure I’ll have a minute to myself. I’d hate for you to come down here just to sit in a hotel room and wait for me.”
A lump formed in my throat, and not for the first time since he’d gone away, I fought tears. I’d put my heart out there, only for it to be trampled on. That fucking hurt more than I could articulate.
“I’m sorry. I just thought...”
Just thought what? That he’d have time for you? Fucking loser.
I should have known better.
“Harv? Are you still there?”
A single tear ran down my cheek. “Yeah. I’m still here. Seriously, it’s fine. Let me know when you’re on your way back.
But it wasn’t fine, and this was how it would always go. It wasn’t his fault, nor was it mine.
Circumstances had thrown us together. Maybe another time, things would have been different, but I knew deep inside that this could and would never work.
“I promise I will, but Harv, talk to me.”
And say what? I’ve fallen in love with you, and I don’t know how to handle it? I would never be his priority, not now that fame was knocking on his door. He’d waited his whole life for this, and I wouldn’t be the one to stand in his way. This was how it always ended.
The itching began again, only this time, I welcomed it with open arms.
“I’ll see you when you get back. Go smash it, Killian.” I hesitated. Dare I say the words I’d been thinking about for days? Did he sense my mood? Detect the melancholy in my voice?
“Look, you could come down if you wanted to. I just didn’t want you sitting around waiting for me. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I’ll be back in a day or so, and we’ll do something nice. Sully paid me a chunk of money, so we could go to a fancy restaurant, eat good food, and drink champagne.”
“I don’t drink, remember? I thought you’d stopped.”
“Eh, one glass won’t hurt now and again, Harv. We’re celebrating.”
I remembered when we’d first celebrated. That time, it had been sparkling water.
I pushed the memory from my mind. “Maybe. I’d better go. I’ve got a ton of things to do today. Have fun. See you soon.”
I heard muffled talking in the background and the sound of laughter.
“Sorry? What did you say, Harv? Someone else was talking to me.”
“It’s all good. Bye, Killian.”
Without waiting for a response, I ended the call and threw the phone onto the bed.
I recalled with clarity the one and only night we’d spent in my bed. How he’d made me come, his name on my lips. How he’d worshipped my body, kissed my scars, and driven away the darkness.
He was moving on with his life, and I should do the same.
Killian’s name flashed across the screen as my phone rang again. I lunged for it, only for it to stop. A quick text appeared.
Killian: Sorry, mate. Butt dial
How had I gone from Harv to mate in the few seconds since we’d spoken?
I contemplated calling Julie. I needed guidance on how to deal with the flood of emotions I was experiencing.
My stomach churned, acid burning a path up my throat. I ran to the toilet and retched, my sides contracting. I’d eaten nothing since last night, and my stomach was empty.
Tears filled my eyes, and I sat back on my heels. Saliva filled my mouth again, but this time, nothing came up, just yellow bile.
Finally done, I wiped and rinsed my mouth. I knew I should eat, but I couldn’t muster the energy to do anything.
I undressed, climbed back into bed, and snuggled down into the covers. I curled up on my side and sobbed. This was how it always ended, with me here, pillows wet from tears I cried for the loss of the people I loved.
Did I love Killian, or was it infatuation? I guessed we’d never know.
I don’t know how long I lay there or when I fell asleep, but I woke to darkness outside. A single streetlight illuminated my bedroom.
I checked my phone. It was just after half-past four. My stomach gurgled. Attention-seeking fucker. I knew if I didn’t feed it, it wouldn’t stop, but sometimes, when I was feeling low, I relished the feeling of emptiness, the gnawing hunger.
I gazed at the phone in my hand, willing it to ring. For Killian to say he’d changed his mind, and I should jump on the next train.
But my hopes were for naught.
How long would it be before he missed me? Before he realised it had been days or weeks since I’d called or messaged?
My head knew that Killian wasn’t that cruel.
He was busy down in London trying to forge his way in a dog-eat-dog world.
He was doing what he’d always wanted to do, and I knew I should support him, tell him I was fucking proud of him, but my heart mourned his absence.
My heart ached for his arms, his kisses, his words of comfort.
I climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom. I kicked at the wet towel still lying on the floor where I’d left it. Usually, I’d have picked it up and hung it on the hook, but I’d been so eager for my plan to visit him that I’d left it where it fell.
I realised now that it was a stupid plan, one born out of desperation, needing to feel loved when, in fact, I meant nothing to anyone.
But that wasn’t true. I meant something to Killian, so why did everything feel so bleak?
My stomach gurgled again, and this time, I listened. I nibbled on some crackers and cheese, guzzled down a bottle of water, and went back to bed.
I’d talk to Julie tomorrow, and she’d put me right. Tell me everything would be fine. If I could just make it through tonight, I’d be okay.
I had to be.
But when morning came, my world seemed darker than ever. I pounced on the missed call, hoping it was from Killian, but it was from Julie, postponing our session until later this afternoon. An apology, but something had come up.
Pressure built in my chest, all my nerve endings tingled, and my legs went weak. I could barely breathe.
You can do this, Harvey. One breath in, one out. In and out.
It wasn’t working. Black spots formed in my eyes as dizziness threatened to take over. My pulse raced, my skin itchy. Dread filled me as familiar sensations flooded my body.
Only one thing would help.
I stumbled into the bathroom and threw open the cabinet, searching for what I needed, but it wasn’t there. I pulled everything out, not caring about the bottles that fell to the floor, liquid spilling as they cracked open.
Discarded toothbrushes, part-used tubes of cream.
Where the fuck is it?
I stared at my face again, eyes red from crying. I’d been through this before, so why did it feel so raw this time, like my heart was being ripped from my chest, leaving a gaping wound that would never heal?
I screamed, unable to handle the emotions, and slammed the door shut, banging my fists on the mirror in anger, or was it sorrow?
The mirror cracked, shards of glass falling into the sink below. My fists bled. I groaned at the sensation. So fucking good. All the fear and anxiety I’d been feeling ebbed away as droplets of scarlet liquid dripped from my shredded skin.
I picked up a piece of glass and, with no hesitation this time, I sliced into the flesh on my forearm. No shame, just an overwhelming sense of peace, as if this was what I had always meant to do.
Everything I’d ever done had led to this moment.
I did it again and watched, hypnotised, as the small beads of blood mingled with each other.
But it wasn’t enough. I did it again, slicing deeper this time.
I wouldn’t be missed. Killian would be gone for days, and Julie would think I’d forgotten or I hadn’t got her message.
I could end this now. End the suffering. End my life.
I didn’t matter to anyone.
I gazed into the mirror and saw my disjointed image.
I was a shattered man.
A deviant and a monster, and I didn’t deserve to live.