Chapter 27
Killian
What was I fucking thinking?
I’d sent the text in the early hours of the morning after deliberating most of the night, instantly regretting the decision the moment I sent it.
All night, memories of our past together had filled my mind. Had I said the wrong thing? Done something so make him do what he’d done?
I scoured every interaction I could remember, but nothing pointed me in that direction. It wasn’t as if this was the first time I’d done this.
For months afterwards, I’d replay situations, wondering if it was my fault. Everyone had assured me it wasn’t, but it annoyed me when some suggested ‘he wasn’t right in the head.’
Well, fuck them. I let them know in no uncertain terms what I thought of that.
Harvey wasn’t to blame for any of it. His self-harm and internal homophobia didn’t mean he wasn’t right; it just meant he didn’t know how to deal with things. Hopefully, he’d had the help he needed. He certainly looked better last night. But who was the guy on his arm?
I needed sleep. I had another show later, and my throat was scratchy. Not what I needed with so many gigs coming up.
I made another drink and took it back to bed. I’d have another half hour then get up, but instead of settling down to sleep, I opened my phone and gazed at the message I’d sent.
So far, there’d been no reply, but I could wait.
Fuck, I’d waited three years for this day. I’d mentally moved on from our relationship, if you could have called it that. It had been all or nothing with us. No in-between; a whirlwind of emotions.
Then there it was: the bouncing three dots. What would he say?
Harvey: I’m free at any time. Where and when?
Killian: I’m performing in Liverpool again tonight. Before the show? We could meet in the theatre bar.
Harvey: Sounds good. I’ll be there at five.
Killian: Four would be better.
I had sound checks, and I liked to sit in my dressing room for half an hour with no interruptions before curtain up.
Harvey: Four it is, and thanks for agreeing to this.
What did I say to that?
I chucked the phone onto the nightstand and took a sip of my drink. It burnt on the way down, but the relief was palpable.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was coming down with something. I took some paracetamol and gulped down the rest of the drink.
About that half an hour...
I woke at two-thirty in a panic.
I’d have just enough time to shower and get to the theatre in time for my meeting with Harvey. I’d always called him Harv, but it didn’t seem right now.
Our familiarity had fled the moment he refused to see me in the hospital.
Despite being early, Harvey was waiting outside. He fidgeted with his gloved hands, stamping his feet on the cold floor.
“Harvey.”
His face lit up the moment he saw me, a far cry from the smiles I used to get. He seemed happy, but there was always an air of sadness surrounding them.
“Hey, Killian. It’s so great to see you again.”
Whatever.
“Shall we?” I gestured to the door, which was swiftly opened by security. “He’s with me. We’ll be upstairs in the bar.”
“No problem, sir. I’ll let Duncan know you’re here.”
Duncan wouldn’t normally attend every show, but he was local, like me. I doubted he’d come up to Scotland with me, although right then, I wasn’t sure I’d be going myself.
My throat had only got worse.
We climbed the red-carpeted stairs to the bar. The wooden doors were open, but the bar wouldn’t open for a while yet. Not until the doors opened downstairs.
I picked a table near the window and sat down. We looked at each other for a moment, taking in the changes.
He’d filled out, losing the gaunt look he had. His eyes at least carried life, unlike the last time I’d seen them. I’d seen them dull before the paramedics swooped in and brought him back from the brink.
“Can I get you anything other than water, sir?” A barman stood next to the table, a jug of water and two glasses balanced on a tray.
“No, that’s fine, thank you.”
“So…”
“So…”
We always seemed to do that, but that was a lifetime ago, before he decided to kill himself and leave me to pick up the pieces.
“Go on,” he said. “You go first.”
“You wanted to meet. I presumed you had something to say.” I wasn’t going to tell him everything that was on my mind just yet, wanting to hear what he had to say first, but I was pissed.
“I, erm.” He paused and pulled off his gloves. “I should apologise.”
“Damn right you should.” I hadn’t meant to get aggressive, but for three years, I’d gone on with my life not knowing if he was alive or dead. He’d disappeared off the face of the earth, telling no one where he’d gone. He might as well have died.
“I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” He stood up to leave.
“You’ll sit and tell me exactly what happened. Why, Harvey? Why did you do it? I fucking found you dying on the floor.”
“I know, and I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“Then what did you mean? Because it sure looked like you were trying to kill yourself.” I stood, knocking over the chair, and ran my hands through my hair as I stood by the window. I couldn’t look at him yet.
Old feelings threatened to surface, the ones that had sent me to the bottom of a bottle, ones where he didn’t survive. I refused to let that happen again.
“I did,” he said quietly, “but it had nothing to do with you or us. It was just… too much all at once. It’s difficult to explain.”
I shook my head. Why did I think I’d get any answers today? I should have known better.
“Just sit, Harvey. Emotions are high for us both right now. But let’s start with an easy one. Where the fuck have you been for the past three years? I thought you were dead.”
“Would you believe I was in Ireland for one of them?”
Of course he would be.
“Julie knew of a retreat where I could recuperate. Over on the west coast, just outside of Galway.”
I chuckled dryly. “I can’t tell you what a coincidence that is.”
“What do you mean?” He frowned, not understanding.
“My surname, McDonagh. Before moving to Dublin, my family was from Galway. It’s where I was born.”
He sat down with a bump. “I thought you were born in Dublin?”
“No, we moved there when I was a few months old. You probably met some of the family without even knowing it.”
“Are you in touch with your family now?”
“We’re talking about you first. We’ll get onto what I’ve been doing in a while if we have time.”
“Well, I know you made it to the big time.”
How much to tell him? But we were being honest with each other.
“Eh, kind of. I do okay, but it was never the huge success I hoped.”
“Well, my colleague knows who you are. She’s a fan.”
“That’s good to know. But go on.” My tone was brusque, but I was furious with him.
“Honestly, Killian, I haven’t done much.
I learnt so much about myself over the year, but more importantly, I healed the parts of me that needed healing.
The wounds were so deep that the therapy wasn’t even touching it.
I thought I was getting better. Turned out I was masking the issues, kidding myself that all was well when it clearly wasn’t. ”
“And you were cutting while we were together?”
“A little, but nothing much. I had it under control until that day. The therapists at the retreat said I was still grieving hard for my parents and grandma, and you moving away. I just couldn’t handle it.”
“I wasn’t moving away. We’d talked about it.”
“I know, but when my mind fixates on something, it’s hard to believe the truth staring you in the face. I’m an overthinker, and I’d already had you moving down to London and replacing me.”
“I would never have done that. You and I, we were good together, weren’t we?” I balled my fists.
“Yeah, we were, but I was playing a part. Fuck, that’s not the right way to put it. I was pretending to be okay with everything when, in fact, I was anything but.”
“So, what we had was a sham. Nothing real, because that’s not how I saw it, Harv. Fuck, I loved you, man.” Shit, my throat was killing me now but how could he say that?
“And I loved you, too. That’s not what I’m saying. I loved you too much. I got attached too quickly. It’s what I do, or what I did. I read more into everything you said and did. Put two and two together and came up with five. I jumped to all the wrong conclusions.”
“You could have talked to me. I would have listened, Harvey.”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “I didn’t know how to. You forget I hadn’t had much interaction with people, men especially. Other than Ed at work, I didn’t know how to speak to them. I had to learn with you.”
This wasn’t making much sense, or was it? Was he saying he wasn’t emotionally ready for a relationship?
“I thought I was ready, and I wasn’t.”
Exactly what I’d suspected.
“So, then what?” I still wasn’t done with him.
“I moved back to England. Sold the house and bought a place just over the water from here. I’ve been there for two years. I have a job working in a tearoom, and I have a cat called Jasper.”
“No boyfriend?”
“Nope. There’s been no one else. No one after you.” He dropped his gaze to his lap.
“Who were you with last night?” Not that I was jealous.
“That was Chris. He’s a good friend.”
The old Harvey didn’t have friends, scared of people seeing the real him, or that was how I saw it, anyway. I’d been the only one he’d let in, but now I was wondering if he’d let me in at all.
“So, you don’t live in Liverpool?”
“No. We’d been for some food, then a show. We were on our way to his place. I crashed there for the night and caught the early train to my place this morning.”
He was rambling now, but he’d spoken more today than I think I’d ever heard him speak.
“There’s really nothing more to tell. I can only apologise again. What have you been up to?”
Was I ready to accept his explanations and apologies? I didn’t have much of a choice, but time was ticking on and who knew if I’d see him again.
“Fame. Fortune. Fucking.”
He sat back in the chair, a stunned look on his face.