Chapter 4 #2
I shove him again and nearly lose my balance as a wave of dizziness hits.
He grabs me, ignoring my mumbled protests, and pulls me tight, grinding against me.
I raise my hands to push him away, but they don’t seem to be working properly, and instead, I slump against him, letting him move me around like a doll.
I blink. The lights are a bright cherry red and pulse like a heartbeat. I hear someone laughing and realise it’s me. Robbie is watching me, and I think I see calculation on his face before it blurs and morphs into a moon.
I laugh again. Everything slows, and I let my head fall back. He kisses my neck, but I can’t summon any concern. There’s just a warm feeling of oblivion.
Robbie tugs me, and I suddenly realise we’re moving, because when I look down my legs and feet are making forward motions. That strikes me as so funny that I laugh and laugh. Robbie says something, but I can’t make out the words. I look up at the glass where Reuben was, but there’s no one there.
Time seems to speed up. We’re in a lift, and I become very intent on the reflection on the glossy wall. There appears to be four of me. Four Xaviers. Reuben would have a stroke due to the aggravation. I try to tell Robbie, but my tongue feels too big for my mouth.
I blink, and we’re walking along a corridor, Robbie’s arm gripping me tightly. He’s talking, but I can’t understand him. He stops outside a door, there’s a click, and then he pushes me into a room. I think it’s a bedroom, but the light is too bright, and I put up my hand to shield my eyes.
He shoves me, and I tumble onto a soft surface that must be a bed. He says something, and I try to concentrate. He says it again, and the words sort themselves into a sentence.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”
“You’re a wanker,” I try to say. What comes out is a slurring mumble.
He undresses, throwing his clothes to the side. Then he’s naked and fisting his cock. “Yeah, you want it. I know it.”
He comes down on top of me, spreading my legs.
I fumble, trying to push him off, but he holds my hands down easily.
He moves back and I feel him unbuckle my belt and slide my jeans off.
I wonder if I should be scared, but what is happening seems far from reality.
My eyes slide closed, and he presses against me.
“Stop,” I slur.
“Shut up,” he whispers.
As he leans closer there’s a sudden crash and splintering sound. I turn my head slowly and see the door hanging off its hinges. A figure appears silhouetted against the light. He moves, and it’s Reuben.
His face is contorted with rage. He takes one look at us, and then Robbie’s weight is suddenly gone. My head lolls to the side, and I see Robbie lying on the floor. What is happening? I laugh, and the sound is loud in my head.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Reuben hovers over me. His voice is loud and seems edged with fear. “Baby, can you hear me?”
I try to answer, but my tongue is swollen, and I make a panicked noise. He strokes my hair back, his trembling fingers hot on my skin. When did I get so cold?
“It’s okay,” he says fiercely. “It’s okay, Xavi.”
I hear Robbie say, “He wanted it. You know it.”
It’s like moving through a dark, shifting fog. Every few seconds, it lifts and I catch fractured images. Robbie standing and taunting Reuben, still naked with his hands on his hips. And then Reuben’s smashing the look from Robbie’s awful face.
"Oh fuck," someone says. Maybe it’s me.
The fog clears again. Robbie’s mouth is bloody now. He spits on the floor and glares at Reuben. “You colossal prick,” he splutters. “My face is worth a fucking fortune.”
Reuben draws his fist back and punches him again. Blood flies, and Robbie sails into the air, rattling the floor when he lands. Reuben stoops over him. “Well, now it’s worth fifty pence, you absolute cunt.”
That strikes me as funny, and I laugh and laugh. I can’t stop laughing. I think Reuben says something, but the room is too dim to see him.
“Sweetheart, stay with me.”
He sounds frantic, and I try to pat his hand, but my arm feels too heavy to move.
“Nngh. I’m okay,” I mumble. “Don’t worry. Always knew you’d come for me.”
My ears thrum, and the room goes dark.
Light filters through the darkness that I’m drifting in, and with it comes the sound of voices. They’re loud, and I mumble a protest. Or maybe I don’t, because they carry on talking. Why are people being so noisy in my bedroom?
I try to open my eyes. They feel sticky, and my eyelashes are stuck together, but I manage it eventually, and then immediately close them because fuck, that’s bright. The voices keep talking, and I try again.
This time, I manage to keep them open, although my lids are so heavy that it feels like I haven’t slept in weeks. The room comes into focus, and I blink. Is this a hospital? What the hell?
I try to think, but my brain feels swampy.
I remember the shoot. I remember watching Reuben as he photographed me, his face hard and set.
I remember the lift, but after that, it’s a complete foggy blank.
Panic stirs, and I try to sit up, but my body is too heavy.
What is wrong with me? Now I’m getting panicky, and I suck in air frantically.
The voices stop talking. “Xavier?” someone says.
I realise my eyes have closed again and I force them open. A circle of faces is looking down at me, and I shrink back.
“Give him some space, for fuck’s sake.” The sound of Reuben’s grumpy, deep voice is a relief, and I feel my body relax immediately. If he’s here, I’ll be okay.
Everyone moves back—Jonas standing with Dean at his side, both looking grim.
Pip sits on a chair by my bed. There’s warmth on my right hand, and I turn to see Reuben’s sitting on my other side, and the reason my hand is so warm is because he has it encased in his own.
I wriggle my fingers as a hello, and he squeezes them, his eyes flashing with what appears to be pure relief. Why is he relieved?
His expression shutters and then he just looks pale and with new lines of strain on his face. His hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and his lips are drawn thin.
I lick my lips and try to speak, when I can’t, my eyes bug in horror. Reuben releases my hand and picks up a glass with a straw and offers it to me. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Take it steady,” he warns me. “Tiny sips. Jonas, go and tell the nurse he’s awake.”
Jonas leaves the room, moving with surprising speed.
I should savour the sight of my boss jumping to obey orders, but I can’t because I feel like utter shit.
My head pounds with blinding pulses of pain, my throat is sore, and just swallowing hurts, and my whole body feels like I did ten rounds with Tyson Fury.
I take another sip and make a mute protest when he pulls the glass away. He strokes my hair back, his eyes fierce in his pale face, but when he talks, his voice is calm.
“How are you feeling?”
He’s always been this way—the calm to my storm.
I try to conjure suitably erudite words, but all I can manage is a small, “Like utter dogshit.”
His lip twitches. “Calm down, Oscar Wilde.” I drag in more ragged breaths, and he puts his finger over my mouth. “You’re okay,” he reassures me quickly. “That’s all you need to know at the moment.”
“At the moment?”
The door opens, and a doctor walks in. He looks tired, his white coat rumpled. “Ah, Mr Conway.” He scrutinises my face. “Good to see you’re awake.”
“Have I been asleep?” I mumble around my thick tongue.
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he looks at the men in my room. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, gentlemen.”
They begin to move towards the door, but I direct a panicked look at Reuben, who’s still standing by the bed. He nods in answer, like he was waiting for the request, and I relax.
“I’m staying,” he states with the mulishness he gets when he doesn’t want to obey. Unsurprisingly, it’s a familiar expression I used to see at least thirty times a day.
The doctor looks at me, and I nod, trying to communicate that I want Reuben here at my side. Reuben directs a long look at me and then steps aside so the doctor can examine me.
It seems to take forever as lights are shone in my eyes and he asks me fifty thousand questions. He summons a nurse and they remove the drip from my hand, which is the first time I realise I had one. My hand immediately throbs, and a bruise begins to form.
Finally, the doctor steps back. “Well, I’d say you’re a very lucky young man, Xavier.”
Reuben sags in relief. What the fuck happened to me?
I frown. “Lucky?” I say hoarsely.
He nods. “The effects from the drug could have been a lot worse.”
“What drug?” I ask blankly. I look at Reuben. “What happened?” I say, trying to sit up.
“Shh,” he says, immediately coming to my side and pushing me gently back. It doesn’t take much effort on his part. I feel as weak as a kitten. “Easy, baby.”
I subside into my pillow, as the doctor writes something on his notes.
He looks up. “I’m going to order a battery of tests before we even think of discharging you, but I’d say this is a good start.
” He pats my shoulder and then vanishes out the door with the nurse in tow.
The sound of the door shutting is loud in my ears.
Reuben and I stare at each other. His face is turbulent, and then he shocks the shit out of me by bending over and gathering me into a hug. His hands are gentle, and his body is so warm that I repress a groan of happiness. It’s only now that I realise I was shaking with cold.
I wind my arms around him. “Tighter,” I whisper.
He gasps and does as I ask, his hug tight and perfect.
I cling to him as he buries his head in my shoulder. “Reuben?” I whisper, realising with horror that he’s shaking. His whole body judders as if he’s grabbed a live wire.
He pulls back, and I’m shocked to see his eyes are wet. Reuben never cries. Never. I saw him at the funeral of his closest friend, and he hadn’t shed a tear.