Chapter Ten
Anders
It had been five days since Bastian had left, but it might as well have been five months.
I was utterly fucking miserable, and everyone knew it.
Even Barney had taken to shooting me dirty looks as I lay sprawled out on the sofa flicking through Netflix, even though there was nothing I wanted to watch.
I shouldn’t have let Bastian go. I should have told him to come back.
But I’d stopped myself because I hadn’t wanted to seem clingy or some other word to that effect. It was also because I was afraid of what might happen.
We’d spoken since, moving to messages and sending endless texts back and forth, but neither of us had broached the subject of seeing each other again. It was like it was too painful, like if we even considered touching it, it was going to hurt us.
There was a pounding knock on the door, and Soren’s voice came flooding through it, albeit slightly muffled. “Anders? Anders, open this door. I’m here to make sure you’re alive. Do I need to kick it down?”
Grumbling, I dragged myself off the sofa and over to the door. “Do you need to cause such a fucking scene?” I asked as I pulled it open to see Soren standing on my doormat.
“I do if you won’t answer your fucking phone.” He pushed past me into the house. I sighed and shut the door.
“Well, I’m not dead, so you can leave.”
“No,” Soren said, sitting down in my spot on the sofa.
Fish, who always seemed to know when Soren was there, suddenly appeared out of thin air and launched herself onto his lap, settling on his thighs and giving me a matching stare.
Bloody cat. I said nothing but sat on the other end of the sofa, hoping if I ignored my brother long enough, he’d leave.
I didn’t get my wish.
“So,” Soren said. “I hear you had a friend to stay.”
“And? You knew that.” I’d told Soren I had a friend coming to visit, but I’d declined to give him any more details.
It was none of Soren’s business what I did.
Besides, I’d known that if I mentioned when Bastian was coming and how I felt, Soren would have demanded I bring him to the pub so he and Colin could say hello.
“Yes, but I didn’t know when. And I also didn’t know he was your boyfriend.”
“He’s not,” I said. It was technically true. It also hurt to admit.
“Then what is he?” Soren raised an eyebrow and rubbed the top of Fish’s head between her ears. “Don’t say he’s nobody because Spencer said you were proper cosy at Novel Tea, and Faith said you had breakfast together at hers, and she saw you kissing on the high street.”
“What is this? Fucking high school?” I should have known word would get back to Soren somehow.
He seemed to know everyone, or at least everyone who was queer.
Spencer had probably been in the pub with his mates and mentioned it offhandedly, and I knew Faith was close with Colin.
She was a very sweet American woman, who ran a little diner called Peace, Love & Pancakes, which did the most incredible breakfasts from all over the States.
I’d taken Bastian there because I knew the sheer amount of food Faith and her wife produced would keep him going until he got home.
Soren ignored my protests. “Stop being a dick and answer my question.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your brother.”
“And?”
“And I worry about you!” His exasperation was clear. “I don’t want you getting lonely.”
“I’m not lonely,” I said. “I like living by myself. And I’ve got you and the cats and people to message if I want someone to talk to. I’m not very sociable anyway.” I didn’t mention the person I messaged most was Bastian or that he was the only person I really wanted to talk to most days.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Anders! Stop being so fucking obstinate! Why does it matter if I know you have a boyfriend? Do you hate me that much that you don’t want me to know anything about your life?
” Soren exploded. “I thought we were friends, but if you’re going to be a complete dick about it, I won’t bother. ”
He went to stand, and Fish yowled at the sudden movement. A pang of guilt lanced through me because Soren had done nothing wrong, and I was just being a dick for no reason. He wasn’t the person I was angry at, and he didn’t deserve me taking out my frustrations on him.
“Wait,” I said. “Sit down.” Soren paused then winced, and I realised Fish was clinging to his leg for dear life. She’d probably sunk her claws into his thigh. He didn’t move to sit down again though. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
Soren gingerly resumed his seat, gently attempting to pry Fish off his leg.
I would have laughed if I didn’t think it would make the situation worse.
Fish, clearly pissed at Soren for moving without her approval, climbed off his lap and padded across to me, using the back of the sofa to climb onto my shoulder and drape herself across my neck.
I rubbed her under the chin. Soren waited for me to continue.
“His name is Bastian,” I said finally. “He’s a photographer.
I met him at London Comic Con last October.
He took that photo of me that you like.” Soren grinned but thankfully didn’t say anything.
“We started emailing after he sent me the photo, and we just didn’t stop.
Then, when you mentioned the castle doing shoots, I mentioned it to him, and he finally came up to visit last week. ”
“I feel like I’m missing a lot of details,” Soren said, “but I can work with that.”
“There’s not much else to tell. We’ve been talking for months, and we finally met again in person.”
“And you kissed him.”
“Yes,” I said because there was no denying it, and I didn’t want to unfairly call Faith a liar. If I did that, I’d never be allowed into Pancakes again. I wasn’t going to tell him about the hotel though.
Soren hummed. “Is he coming back?”
“I don’t know.” The words came out lower than I’d intended like I couldn’t bring myself to say them out loud.
“Do you want him to?” Soren asked gently.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Does he know this?”
“He asked if he could see me again, and I said yes.”
Soren sighed and gave me a look that suggested he thought I was an idiot.
“Did you specifically say you wanted him to come back? Because despite what you might think, there is a hell of a lot of difference between ‘I’d like to see you again’ and I’d like to see you again.
” His inflection changed between the two, and I finally realised what he meant—it was the difference between seeing Bastian at some point and seeing him again as soon as possible.
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
“Think very carefully before you answer,” Soren said, although he was smiling.
“Did you say that you, Anders Flynn, wanted him to come back as soon as possible because you really fucking like him and you’re miserable as fuck without him, or did you vaguely imply he could see you again at some point when you both happened to be in the same place? ”
“I think it might have been the second. Fuck!” Fish rubbed her head against my cheek in a rare gesture of affection like she could tell I was upset. In Fish’s world, the only person allowed to annoy me was her. I looked at Soren. “What do I do?”
“That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard! You stop being a dickhead and invite him back, even if it’s just for a week.”
“You don’t think…” I tried to put my fears into words, to get to the root of my cowardice. “Is it too fast?”
“So what if it is?” Soren shrugged. “You said you’ve been talking for months, and you’re miserable as fuck after seeing him for just one day.
Sure, it may be fast, but you won’t know if that’s a bad thing until you go through with it.
It’s either that or you don’t do anything, and I’m putting my foot down on that option, especially considering you nearly bit my head off when I arrived, and I got mauled by your cat. ”
“Sorry about that.” Fish purred in my ear, indicating she wasn’t sorry at all.
“No, you’re not,” Soren said with a wry smile. “I’m serious though. If doing nothing is going to make you miserable, then you have to do the opposite. Besides, you’re getting old. You’ve gotta take a few chances.”
“Fuck you.”
“Resorting to swearing means I’m right.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I grinned at him, my own way of admitting he was.
I knew I had to invite Bastian back and convince him to stay.
I wanted him here—in my life, in my home, and in my bed.
I wanted to walk along the beach with him, no matter the weather, and then come home and make dinner.
I wanted to spend my days writing, knowing he was just next door—apart but together if we wanted to be.
I could easily turn the small third bedroom, which I’d only ever used for storage, into a studio for him.
I’d do whatever it took to make him happy because I knew without him my life wasn’t worth living.