Chapter Three
Laurie
My weekends without Theo were always strange.
The flat felt quiet and lonely without his constant chatter and bright, bubbling laughter.
Even when he was busy gaming in his room, I could hear him, so he was always present even if we weren’t in the same room.
I never begrudged Theo his weekends away because I knew how important his MyFans was to him and I loved how it made him feel.
Once upon a time, Theo had been told that every aspect of himself was too much, and instead of trying to dim the light inside of himself, Theo had reclaimed his body, his attitude, and his sensuality with a fire hotter than a thousand suns.
It was one of the things I loved most about him—that Theo was never anyone but himself.
Alex, one of our friends, had once casually asked me how I felt about Theo’s MyFans.
I’d thought the question was a little odd since it wasn’t any of my business, but with the way everyone had reacted when Austin had called me Theo’s boyfriend, I had to believe that they’d all assumed the same.
Which in hindsight gave Alex’s question context, but even if we were a couple, my answer wouldn’t have changed.
What Theo did with his body was absolutely none of my business as long as there were healthy, open lines of communication between all parties, everything was done in a safe, sensible manner with the total, explicit consent of everybody involved, and if anyone, for whatever reason, was uncomfortable or had a problem, they were free to raise it without consequence or condemnation.
That had seemed to satisfy Alex, and he hadn’t asked again.
I understood the principle of why people got in a twist about their partner doing adult entertainment, especially if the relationship wasn’t built on a solid foundation, but the idea of being upset by it was totally baffling.
Firstly, sex work was work, and being upset about somebody’s job seemed ridiculous to me.
Although, granted, as a funeral director, perhaps I wasn’t in much of a place to comment since people had said similar things to me in the past.
And secondly, people had different needs.
There were things I wanted and needed in a relationship that other people might not be open to and vice versa.
Theo had once told me that, along with a reclamation of himself, doing porn allowed him to scratch itches very few monogamous relationships tended to allow. Like being gang-banged.
I sighed to myself and flicked the television in the corner of the room off.
I’d been trying to watch a new documentary on pirates, but my brain wouldn’t settle.
I kept glancing at my watch and wondering when Theo would be home, trying to calculate exactly where he might be in his journey since I knew what time he’d set off.
Standing up, I started to walk towards the kitchen in the hope a cup of tea might settle my nerves when my violin case caught my eye. I’d never gotten round to playing at the start of the week despite my desire to.
“Hello, my old friend,” I said as I snapped the case open and lifted out the beautiful instrument that had once belonged to my grandmother.
She’d taught me to play over the school holidays, since I’d spent every one with her and my grandfather since I was five, and I had fond memories of trying to tuck the violin into place under my chin and grasping the bow between my chubby fingers as I attempted to learn to play “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” “What shall we play today?”
I flicked through the sheet music that was propped on the stand tucked neatly into an alcove, trying to find something that caught my fancy.
My fingers stopped on a booklet tucked into the back, Amy Beach’s “Romance for Violin and Piano.” While technically the piece called for both instruments to be played in harmony, I adored the haunting, romantic melody of the violin.
It was an exquisite piece of Romantic music and one I’d loved since I’d first heard it.
Pulling the sheets out from behind the others, careful not to scatter anything on the floor, I arranged them in place. Then I lifted my violin out of the case and tucked it into position. The bow was light in my fingers as it hovered above the strings, anxious to begin.
My eyes focused on the sheet music, re-familiarising myself with the notes before I let out a slow breath and allowed the music to sweep me away.
The piece was not a long one, just over six minutes when combined with the piano, but it felt like it stretched out far longer. The sumptuous melody enveloped me, my mind and body working in complete harmony as each note filled the empty flat with love and longing.
With every second, I remembered how much I loved playing.
Music had been my sanctuary for a long time and playing had allowed me respite from the world when I wanted to disappear.
Through music, I could express the emotions I’d never been able to find the words for, but composers and musicians far greater than me had written them into a million notes. A path for me to follow.
In another life, perhaps I could have pursued a career in music. But that was a flight of fancy I’d never been allowed to indulge.
I was lucky, in the worst way possible, that my grandfather had died not long after I’d turned twenty-one and my grandmother, whose health had been starting to fail, had asked me to move to Heather Bay to assist her with the funeral home, a business that had been in our family for generations.
My parents, who’d been pushing me to complete what they’d considered to be a sensible degree in biomedical science, had only reluctantly agreed, but I was an adult, so they hadn’t been able to stop me and it had been obvious that neither of them was interested in caring for my elderly grandmother.
I’d moved here the day after my final university exams had finished, and I’d never looked back.
As the piece came to an end, I heard a noise behind me. I turned, startled, to find Theo standing by the front door, bag in hand and a soft smile on his face.
“You don’t have to stop,” he said. “I love listening to you play.”
My face flushed and I turned back to the music, my stomach roiling uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I was trying to be quiet. I heard you playing and didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Oh… well…” I didn’t know what to say. I heard Theo padding across the room but I couldn’t tear my eyes off the music stand. I’d played for Theo before, so I didn’t understand why I suddenly felt so unsure.
“Please,” Theo said. I heard the sofa creak and I knew he’d sat down to watch me. “Play me something?”
“What sort of thing?”
“I don’t mind. Anything. Something you love.”
I thought for a second. There were so many pieces I loved that I didn’t even know where to start.
I reached into the collection of sheet music and pulled something out at random, smiling to myself when I saw what it was.
It was the theme to the film Ladies in Lavender, which was about two sisters who found a young violinist washed up on the beach and nursed him back to health.
It was a film I’d watched countless times, and I’d always loved Daniel Brühl as the violinist, Andrea. I wouldn’t have quite said he was my queer awakening, but he was definitely part of it.
“What did you pick?” Theo asked as I lifted my violin again.
“You’ll have to wait and find out,” I said. “See if you can guess. And you’re not allowed to peek at the music either.”
I closed my eyes and drew the bow across the strings. I’d played this piece so many times I didn’t need the sheets, but it was reassuring to have them there. The music was familiar and comforting in its beauty, almost like coming back to a well-loved place I’d forgotten to visit.
Theo didn’t interrupt me; he just listened.
When I finished, drawing out the last few haunting notes, I finally opened my eyes and turned to face him.
He was sat cross-legged on the sofa, staring at me like he was utterly enchanted.
His mouth was slightly open as if he was on the verge of saying something.
The fact that I’d apparently stunned him into silence was a miracle in itself.
“Ladies in Lavender,” he said finally, his voice breathlessly soft. “It’s one of your favourites.”
“Yes, it is. How did you know?”
“About the music or that it’s your favourite?
Actually, it doesn’t matter because the answer’s almost the same for both.
We’ve watched it at least a dozen times together, and I’ve heard you play it when you don’t think I’m listening.
” He scrutinised me carefully. “You usually play it when you’re sad. Why are you sad?”
“I’m not.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew me so well—after all he was my best friend and we’d lived in each other’s pockets for at least four years—but I was. Because I couldn’t think of why I might be sad. “How was your weekend?”
“Good. I’m exhausted now, though, and I ache all over.
Jake got me to ride him, which is super fun and feels amazing, but oh my God, he made me do all the work and my thighs are fucking killing me.
And my calves. Just my legs in general.” He stretched his legs out and sighed, looking very sorry for himself.
“Austin said it’s a sign I should get more exercise, but I do not want to sign up for a gym.
That would be awful! The only time I ever want to set foot in one is if someone decides they want to shoot some really cheesy changing room porn, and even then I’d need convincing. ”
“We could go for some more walks?” I suggested as I put my violin away. “Try doing some hiking. Or you could ask Spencer for some exercises to do at home?”
“Oh, that’s a great idea! Actually, maybe the gym wouldn’t be so bad if I could go with Spencer. I bet he’d make it fun.”
I chuckled. “You just said you never wanted to set foot in one.”
“I know,” Theo said with a smile and shrug. “But that was before you suggested I go with Spencer. I like the idea of walking too, but only if we take a picnic. I’m not hiking miles and miles without snacks.”
“We could take some sandwiches.” Now Theo had mentioned food, my stomach started to rumble. I’d had lunch but it had been a long time ago, and I hadn’t made anything for dinner because I hadn’t been sure when Theo would be home or how hungry he’d be. “Have you had dinner?”
Theo shook his head. “Nope. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. We got pizza last night, though.”
“That doesn’t help now. What do you fancy? It won’t take me long to make something. Then you can have a bath.”
Theo hummed happily. “That sounds amazing! Will you wash my hair too, please?”
“Of course,” I said as I walked towards our tiny kitchen, which was the first room on the left off the small landing that led out of the living room. It wasn’t the fanciest—in fact, it hadn’t been updated since my grandparents redid it in 2004—but suited Theo and me just fine.
I’d gone shopping over the weekend, so our little fridge was almost full to bursting, but nothing caught my eye. Normally, we planned our meals every week since we were both so busy, but by some oversight we hadn’t planned anything for today.
Luckily, there was plenty of milk, butter, and cheese in the fridge and an unopened bag of spirali pasta in the cupboard.
“Are you okay with mac and cheese?” I asked as I started to pull the ingredients out before opening a small cupboard in the corner to retrieve a tub of flour to make the roux.
“I’ll never say no to pasta and cheese,” Theo said, poking his head around the door. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“Not really. Not unless you want to grate some cheese into a bowl to save me dropping it all over the hob?”
“Consider it done.” He grabbed a plastic mixing bowl out of the cupboard and rummaged in the drawer for the grater. Since our electric hob was so old it took forever to heat up anything to a temperature beyond vaguely warm, I flicked the kettle on to boil some water for the pasta.
“So,” Theo said as he picked up an enormous block of cheddar. “How was your weekend?”
I smiled as I pulled out a large saucepan to start making the cheese sauce and began to tell Theo about my days, a warm sense of ease and familiarity enveloping me.
As quiet and peaceful as my weekends without Theo were, it was always better when he came home.