“Go open your front door,” he said.
“What?”
“I’m coming to you, you idiot.” He laughed. Then he hung up on me.
This thing with Charlie had obviously made me lose my mind because I had no idea what just happened, what I’d done or what I’d said.
“I’ve…” I said out loud, but I couldn’t say anything else. I was just standing there, staring at the phone in my hand.
Then I panicked, and I could almost hear Charlie’s laughter as I knew exactly what this meant. I was having a full-on gay panic because I was in love with him, and now, he was finally coming to see me, and I sniffed my armpits and checked my hair in the windowpane. I looked like shit, and I panicked even more.
Then I didn’t. But still, my heart was beating out of my chest as I went to open the front door and stepped out on the wet stone step. The sky was black, and the streetlight a few doors down was casting a dull sheen over the road, glittering little rivers of water running down the asphalt towards town as I kept watch for movement.
There was none, and I sighed, crossing my arms around my body to keep out the chill. It was January and mid-winter. I smiled as I realised my house was nice and warm, the roaring fire in the front room making the space I now called home a ridiculous damp-ridden place of calm.
I went back inside, leaving the door on the latch. Smoothed down the blankets on the sofa and let out another resigned sigh at the neglected mattress, still carelessly leaning against the wall. My pillows mocked me in their naked state on the floor, and I hadn’t even unpacked the sheets or made the duvet up, instead, curling up and spending my nights on the sofa, like a lazy teenager.
I ripped the plastic off the mattress, placing the heavy springs carefully on the floor as far from the fire as I could get it. It looked ridiculous, but right now? It would have to do. I opened up sheets and shook out pillowcases, making the bed up like a grownup to keep my head straight, and I needed anything right now to keep me calm because…
I threw the duvet on the makeshift bed, carefully straightening the corners.
It would have to do. I sighed, staring at my messed-up ideas of interior design.
I lit the scented candles and then blew them out, feeling like I was trying too hard, when all I wanted to do was scream.
Then, I stood on my doorstep, gazing down the empty road like a lovesick fool.
I was a fool and lovesick was as close as I could describe the feelings that I struggled to put words to in my head.
And there he was because I would recognise him anywhere, keeping a steady pace up the incline of the hill, carrying a bag on his shoulder and wearing a knitted hat on his head.
I shivered, then smiled, then hugged myself and rolled on my heels backwards and forwards like an overexcited child.
Charlie, my Charlie.
“Daniel,” he said politely as he took the first step up the stairs and stopped.
“I love you,” I said.
“No, you don’t,” he said back, smiling as he skipped into my arms.
He hugged me, and I hugged him back. I held him in my arms as my chest constricted and sobs threw punches in my stomach. I hugged him and held him, and my face was in his neck, and I wondered if I ever could let go. If I did, what would happen, and if I didn’t? I would just stay here forever. I wouldn’t mind, I thought as I rocked him in my arms and let my lips kiss the skin on his neck. I kissed the soft hair on his neckline, and I kissed the back of his ears. I ripped off the damp hat on his head and sniffed at his hair, breathing him in like the lovesick fool I was. I loved him. I didn’t care anymore. I needed him. Him.
“Daniel,” he said into my chest. “Are we going to stand here all day or are you going to invite me in?”
I just giggled, almost hysterically, because I was suddenly feeling a little bit high. High on him. High on everything we could become.
“Come,” I said, taking his hand. “Come in.”
I showed him around the shell left of a house that was once somebody’s home. I showed him the peeling wallpaper and the patches of dirt. I introduced him to my rat-infested toilet, and he promised to give the rodents names if we decided to keep them as pets. We laughed at the drips from the ceilings in the freezing rooms upstairs. I made him climb into the loft, where we stood and looked at the stars because there was a hole in the roof here too, just large enough to see them through. I took his hand again because I wanted to, and it was just there fitting nicely in mine. I steadied him with my other hand because the floorboards were just random planks, and I wouldn’t want him to fall. So, we were standing there, hand in hand, with my other hand awkwardly resting on his shoulder.
“I assume you are fixing the roof?”
“Proper loft conversion, Big Derek said. One day, this will be our bedroom, and it will have this big, massive roof window just here, over where the bed will be. There will be another one over on this side here, where the en-suite bathroom will go. Then, there will be a smaller window just there by the staircase that will open up into a very tiny little balcony. It will be tiny, not even enough for that Big Derek to stand on, but he said it will be good enough and add value to the house. People love little balconies and random stuff like that, he said.”
He smiled. I could feel it in my bones despite the darkness, because his hand was in mine and we were staring at the stars, and I suddenly didn’t care if I’d be debt-ridden for the rest of my life as long as I could give him the stars and the moon to calm him at night.
“Did you think you would… do this? Together with me?”
“Fix up the house?”
“Yeah?” he said quietly.
“The plans can still be changed, and Geoff needs you to sort out the units and worktops and all that. I don’t know what you need in a good kitchen. You’re the chef. I don’t even know the difference between a gas hob or an electric oven… thingy.”
“It’s your kitchen.”
“Ours,” I said. “I’m going to be bossy here because I can. This, here, now? This is my wreck, but when we are done with it? It will be our home. I want you to come stay here like you live here. I’ll give you a key, and you can come as you please. I want you to have a say in what we do with it and choose things like, you know, colours of the walls? Then one day, maybe you’ll move some things in here and then… One day you’ll just, stay.”
“We haven’t even had sex,” he muttered as I pulled him back into my arms.
“We haven’t even kissed,” I replied, letting my hand tangle in his hair. My fingers tracing the piercings through his skin and the pearls on their strings as I kissed his cheek. There was stubble against my lips. Softness and warmth. I kissed again, let my lips stroke against his nose. His eyelids. Little pecks on his temples as I tried to remember how to breathe.
“Don’t have a big gay panic,” he whispered.
“Not having a big gay panic,” I whispered back.
I kissed him, just pressing my lips against his mouth. He returned it with a fervour that made me a little dizzy because he was suddenly everywhere, his hands in my hair and his tongue in my mouth, and it was like everything and nothing all at once. He was with me and in me, and I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t know what to do.