“We could do that,” Ben murmured.
“Why don’t we talk about it later,” Stan said, aiming for diplomacy. “We need to figure it out, I think. Thank you though, Sherrie. That’s really nice of you.”
She smacked him on the arm. “No need to talk to me like I’m a bloody stranger. I change the security alarm codes all the time, but I’ll text you when I get home and let you know what they are. Just let me know if you do move back in, and I’ll get the cleaner to go round more often.”
“More often?”
“It’s not a fucking museum, Stan. Geordie and Summer stay there when they’re back home. I don’t know about anyone else.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I best be going.”
Stan showed her to the door and gave her another hug.
“Don’t be a stranger,” she said quietly, so the others didn’t overhear. “I know it’s been a while, love, but you can always call me. Okay?”
“Thank you,” Stan said. He carefully closed the door behind her.
Tone was finishing off Ben’s leftovers when Stan got back to the kitchen. Ben was back on the sofa, looking weary.
“What do you think?” Stan asked. “About the house.”
“Thought I might talk about it with Dr Greg,” Ben said. “See what he thinks.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“I don’t want to impose on you.” Ben picked at a stray thread on his jumper and didn’t meet Stan’s eyes.
“You’re not imposing,” Stan said quickly. “Honestly. I like having you here.”
Tone burped loudly and went about clearing the food cartons away. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t anything left over.
“You should have your place back,” Tone called from the kitchen. “We’ll only be up the road, anyway.”
“Talk to Dr Greg,” Stan said to Ben.
“Okay.”
Tone surprised Stan by deciding to move back into the house, taking Ben with him. Stan had an inkling that Tone could see what was not going on between Ben and Stan, and wanted to get out of the way before anything did.
While Ben slept late, Stan walked with Tone the twenty or so minutes it took to get from his flat to the house. Tone wasn’t moving all his stuff yet. This was a reconnaissance mission, to pick up house keys and check alarm codes and for Stan to have a peek back inside the house he’d left almost four years ago. He’d never expected to go back.
Tone had seemed happier the past few days. Whether that was because he knew he was escaping the flat or because there was good news coming from the others in LA, Stan wasn’t sure. Or maybe it was the same thing that was lifting Stan and Ben’s moods both—being back in London, in the beating heart of the city that had driven them to be the people they were today.
Either way, Stan was happy to walk in contented silence next to Tone as he chuffed on a vape that smelled like candy floss.
“I think,” Tone said as they walked up the front path, “if I tell the others we’re back here, they’ll come back to London.”
“Yeah?” Stan was surprised. He didn’t think any of the rest of the band looked like they wanted to leave LA. But that added a layer of reasoning to Tone’s decision to move that Stan hadn’t considered yet.
“Yeah. Especially if I’m moving back in. Geordie will hate it. He’s used to having this place on his own.”
“Why don’t you move back into your own flat?”
“My cousin is living there,” Tone said. He quickly disabled the alarms and stepped aside to let Stan in to the hallway. “She’s starting at uni soon, and I said she could stay there instead of moving into halls.”
“That’s nice of you,” Stan said.
Tone shrugged. “She needs it more than I do.”
And that was Tone all over, putting someone else before himself, just because he could.
“You don’t want to get somewhere else?”
“I will, eventually,” he said, turning the vape off and sticking it back in his pocket. “If we end up deciding to stay in London again. I just haven’t gotten round to it yet.”
Stan automatically took his shoes off as he stepped into the house, leaving them next to the front door. They’d all gotten into the habit at Summer’s insistence while they were living together. Back in the day, there had been an enormous pile of shoes next to the door at all times. Not anymore.
Even though this house was a similar size to the Los Angeles mansion, the feel of the place was night and day. This house had always been a home, full of light and laughter and warmth. Walking around with no one else here wasn’t even strange. Stan had spent plenty of time here on his own too.
He’d never done this before—gone back to a home he’d once lived in years after he’d left. Stan had lived in plenty of places since he left Russia as a teenager, so he’d never placed any particular sentimental value on a building. This, though, was very strange.
Tone had headed straight to the back of the house, where the band’s recording studio was set up behind the kitchen. Stan decided not to follow him and instead took the stairs to the left of the front door.
The bedroom he’d shared with Ben was in the attic of the house, on the third floor. At the time they’d moved in, it was the biggest bedroom, and Ben had managed to nab it partly because no one else wanted to traipse up all those stairs every day, and partly because Stan still needed his own space at that point. However much he loved the others, and he did, very much, they were a lot to deal with. So having some quiet space was precious.
It really was like stepping back in time. Stan could all but feel the years melting away, leaving him twenty-three years old again with the feeling that the whole world was at his feet.
He took a deep breath before pushing open the door to his old room.
It looked almost exactly the same as the last time he was here.
Stan stepped in cautiously, just in case some old memory came and smacked him between the eyes.
They’d painted the walls dark navy blue, which should have made the room feel small but with the skylights in the roof, it was never gloomy. The sofa in the corner was still angled towards the TV with the blanket Stan had bought at the market draped over the back of it.
The room was a little neater than when they were living here; a lot of their stuff had gone, after all.
Stan turned in a slow circle, breathing it in.
Then he caught sight of the black bunny rabbit stuffed toy on the nightstand.
“Hades,” Stan murmured, and his heart clenched.
He’d bought the bunny for Ben before he left on the first tour Ares had been signed up for, a little remember me token. Not only had Ben kept it, he kept it on his nightstand. Even now.
Stan went and sat on the bed, not sure if it was even okay for him to do that much. How many nights had he slept here, Ben curled around him? How many times had they made love, right here?
A lot.
There had always been a lot of love between them.
Stan picked up Hades, held him close to his chest, and for the first time in a long time, wept for what he’d lost.
That was how Tone found him, half an hour later.
Stan felt paralysed with fear—if he moved, something would change, and everything was so fucked up and so wrong, whatever he did next would inevitably make everything so much worse.