Outside, everything was too loud, too busy, and Ben realised he was definitely not done with coming down from the epic high he’d been on.
Thankfully, this was central London, so he could get what he needed without having to go more than five minutes from the flat.
His stomach growled threateningly as he passed a KFC, but that was such a bad idea right now he couldn’t even begin to contemplate it. Grease on his empty stomach was a recipe for disaster. A few doors down was an Itsu. Much better.
Ben wasn’t sure what the time was, but it wasn’t very busy inside. He walked up to the counter, no doubt looking like strung-out druggie scum.
“I need something vegan,” he croaked at the girl.
“Vegan?”
“Yeah. Fucking vegan.”
“Well, we have—”
“Just… give me one of everything.”
“One of everything what?”
Ben fought the urge to press his hands to his face in frustration. “One of every vegan thing you have. Please.”
She glared at him. Ben was ridiculously grateful for the glare. She was a sassy, young black Londoner who probably thought Ares were shit, if she’d ever heard of them. Her bad attitude was a blessing he’d count.
Before collecting anything, she rang it all through the till and made him pay, clearly not expecting him to have the cash to cover it all. He didn’t. Have cash. He had a contactless debit card, and that was just as good.
“Eat in or take away?”
“I’ll eat some of it here and take the rest away.”
“Okay.”
He watched with growing agitation as she assembled everything in a bag for him.
“Cutlery’s over there.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, then almost tripped over his own feet on his way to pick up a fucking fork.
Ben didn’t want to sit in a window seat, and instead found a tiny booth that was out of the way and hardly overlooked. Then he picked through the bag, trying to figure out what he wanted to eat.
The vegan thing was an idea he’d had, remembering how Stan used to eat vegan during one of his episodes because there were far fewer things that were likely to upset his stomach. While anything greasy would definitely make him sick, Ben also had a good idea that too much meat or dairy would also have adverse effects on his digestive system. And since that system was currently royally fucked up, he wanted to treat it nicely.
He picked his way through a salad, then ate two pieces of sushi before rubbing his hand over his stomach, almost awe-struck at how such a small amount of food had made him bloat. It had revived his energy, though, and suddenly his anxieties all rushed back in. Being seen like this, looking like this, and being recognised, filled him with the sort of dread that made him ache for another hit.
Ben looked down at his hands, scarred and calloused.
“I don’t want to die,” he murmured softly.
So he wouldn’t.
He gathered his bag and ducked his head so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with the sassy girl behind the counter. Outside, his breathing picked up, close to panic, and he glanced around for a safe place to hide.
His eyes fell on a barber shop.
Two birds, one stone.
He scuttled across the road, weaving in and out of traffic, and almost slammed the door behind himself.
Two guys were working, though one was just finishing up with a client and the other was taking a payment. No one else was in the small, one-room shop, and Ben had an idea.
He kept his hood up and his head down as the first guy got done paying.
“I’m ready when you are, mate.”
Ben startled. “Can I use your loo really quick?”
“Course. Right back there.”
He didn’t really need to go, but took the opportunity anyway. When he was done, both of the customers had left.
Ben leaned against the counter.
“I’ll pay you whatever you like to close until I’m done.”
The guy who he’d spoken to first looked slightly taken aback. Apparently no one in fucking Marylebone expected the druggie tramp to be a vegan who had cash to splash.
The second barber, younger, came over.
“I need to go to the bank anyway.”
The first guy nodded. “Take an hour, if you like.”
He didn’t argue, just grabbed his phone from behind the counter and walked out, clearly happy to be given an extended lunch break.
The barber walked over to the door and flipped the sign to Closed.
“Come take a seat.”
The thought of having to sit in a chair and stare at his own face for however long this took almost sent Ben into another panic attack. When the barber wrapped a cloak around his shoulders, he could barely fight back the tremors.
“Hey.”
Ben forced himself to meet his eyes as the guy took a seat in the chair next to him. He was maybe in his early fifties and looked good. He had a short, neat beard and very well-styled hair. This was one of those retro barbers, where they did wet shaves and everyone wore white shirts and braces or bow ties.
“I’m Dominic. This is my place. The kid we just chucked out is my nephew Corey. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’ve seen a lot working here. Okay?”
“Okay,” Ben muttered.
“What do we need to do today?”
“It’s all fucking….” Ben grouched to himself. “Matted.”
“Do you want to work it out or cut it off? Fair warning, it’s probably going to hurt like a bitch if I try to comb it out.”
“Shave it all off if you have to. I don’t care.”
“I don’t think we need to go that far. Can I take a look? See what we’re working with here?”
“Okay.”
Dominic got up and swung Ben’s chair around so it wasn’t facing the mirror or the street. He was looking back at a dark grey wall with some nice art on it in fancy gold frames. Better. That was better.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax as Dominic picked his way through Ben’s hair. Ben thought back to when it had been last cut—almost eight months ago, by his reckoning. It was long.
“This side is the worst,” Dominic said casually. Somehow Ben didn’t feel bad about himself with the way Dominic said it. “I reckon we can go short on the sides, then whatever you want on the top.”
“I used to wear it in a Mohawk,” Ben muttered.
“Yeah?” Dominic sounded both amused and pleased with that. “I can work with something like that, if you want.”
“I just don’t want to look like a homeless drug addict anymore. Only one of those things is true.”
“Leave it with me. You’re alright facing that way?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
Dominic worked quickly, the snipping of his scissors loud in the silent room. Ben kept his eyes closed and focused on breathing slowly. Even so, it didn’t take long for the tremors to come back.
“You need a break?” Dominic asked.
Ben put his face in his hands and folded himself in half. “I’m such a fucking wreck.”
“I don’t see a wreck,” Dominic said. He came around and took a seat in the chair next to Ben again. “I see a guy who’s clearly going through some shit, who decided to get a healthy lunch today, then come in to get his hair cut. That’s who you are right now. A guy who’s making decent choices.”