That sounded like hell of a confession.
“I want to meet her,” Ben said. “When she’s ready and everything.”
“Okay. I’ll tell her that. So, when are you moving out?”
“Soon, I think,” Ben admitted. “I know I need to.”
“Have you started looking for somewhere? You sold the flat, right?”
“Yeah. I guess I don’t want to look for somewhere without talking to Stan.”
Tone drained his pint. “Then you should talk to him.”
“You always give the best advice.”
Though it was framed as a joke, they both knew he wasn’t joking. Ben’s reliance on Tone was almost legend at this point.
Chapter Twenty Three
Though officially Ben had moved out of the flat, in reality, he spent more nights at Stan’s place than he did at the house. Stan thought there were probably multiple reasons for this, not just because he wanted to be with Stan all the time, and didn’t push too hard for an explanation.
From what Stan could tell, Ben’s relationship with Summer, Jez, and Geordie was still a little rocky. And selfishly, Stan wanted him around too.
He didn’t mind that he was constantly washing Ben’s boxers with his own, or that Ben always left his teabags in the sink, or that Ben had a toothbrush that now lived in the bathroom permanently. He actually kind of liked all of that.
The nightmares, though… those he could do without.
“Ben. Ben.”
Stan had tried shaking him awake before and almost got clocked in the jaw, so that was out. It broke his heart to see Ben so twisted up in pain like this—it wasn’t just a nightmare; it looked like he was being tortured.
“Ben!”
Ben sat upright with a heaving gasp.
“It’s okay. You’re alright,” Stan said quietly, still careful not to touch him. “You’re okay.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Ben covered his face with his hands and shuddered.
When he didn’t stop shaking, Stan wondered if this was a panic attack. Still worried to touch him, he decided to try and talk him through it.
“You’re okay. You’re with me. You’re in London. Breathe, baby. Deep breaths.”
Ben dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and let out a noise that might have been a sob.
He’d sweated through the T-shirt he’d worn to bed, so Stan got up and found a clean one and clean boxers, then went to the bathroom and got him a glass of water. When he got back to the bedroom Ben hadn’t changed.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
Stan helped him put the clean clothes on, lifting the T-shirt up until Ben raised his arms and let Stan tug it the rest of the way off, then helping him into the new one.
“Put these on too,” Stan said, handing him the boxers.
Ben did as he was told, then gulped the water.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Do you want to get up?”
Ben shook his head, so Stan got back into bed too and held his arm out for Ben to rest his head on Stan’s chest.
“I thought I was getting better,” Ben mumbled. Stan brushed his fingers through Ben’s hair, separating the damp strands and gently smoothing them back into place. Ben always liked having his hair played with.
“You are,” Stan said. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t even remember.” Ben pressed his face against Stan’s T-shirt and used it to wipe his eyes. Stan didn’t even mind. “My chest still feels all tight.”
Stan moved his hand down to the middle of Ben’s back and rubbed circles there instead. He wanted to press, to try and get some more information out of Ben now because experience had already told him that Ben wouldn’t talk about it in the morning. But it seemed almost predatory, when Ben was so vulnerable like this.
“I love you,” he said instead.
“I love you too.”
Ben kicked the blanket back up over them both, then anchored his arm around Stan’s waist. It took a long time for him to fall asleep again.
The next morning Stan let Ben sleep in while he got up early and sorted through all of the pictures on his phone and made a list of social media posts for the rest of the week. Then he logged onto his emails and sorted through a list of invitations to different events and press releases, and one sponsorship opportunity that he quickly sent an email to decline.
Brand sponsorship was an area he was definitely not ready to get involved in.
Somewhere around midmorning he heard Ben get up and get in the shower, and Stan put the kettle on so there would be tea when he got out again.
Ben emerged looking surprisingly refreshed, considering what he’d been through the night before, and Stan vowed to let it go. Ben would talk it through with Dr Greg when he was ready.
“I’ve got something I want to show you,” Ben said once he had a cup of tea in his hands.
Stan rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen plenty of that, thank you very much.”
“Not my dick,” Ben said, laughing, and Stan let himself get lost in that sound. Ben laughed more now, and Stan loved it so much.
“Okay.”
Stan put on flat shoes when Ben said he wasn’t going to call a cab, and layered his long coat over the top of his outfit. Now October was only a few days away it was definitely getting cooler out.
When they got outside, Stan tipped his face up to the chilly air. He liked this, liked watching the seasons change, liked the anticipation for next spring. He slipped his hand into Ben’s and let Ben lead the way.
It took almost half an hour to walk across Camden, through the park to the other side of Primrose Hill. Ben checked his phone, then walked up to a house and confidently rang the doorbell. The outside was a combination of red and brown brick, with white trim and huge windows.
“Ben?”
“Trust me?”
Stan shrugged. He could do that.
A woman in a smart grey suit answered the door and smiled at Ben, then gestured them inside.
“I found this place online,” Ben said, his voice low as they stepped into the hallway.
“Are you going to buy it?”
“Maybe.”
Stan quickly realised that it was a flat, rather than the whole house, and it was beautiful.
Light poured in from stained glass windows either side of the main door, opening into a wide hallway with wooden floors. From here, he could see all the way through to the back garden that stretched a ways back with real grass, almost unheard of in London.
Stan felt his stomach clench. For the cat, he thought. They needed the garden for their cat.
The estate agent didn’t attempt to show them around, which made Stan think Ben had been here before, without him.
“It’s actually a maisonette,” Ben said and gestured to a slim staircase. “Up there’s the master bedroom and a bathroom. But I want to show you something else first.”
He didn’t let go of Stan’s hand as they turned right and went down another short hallway to two doors, open opposite each other.
“This would be your office,” Ben said. It looked out onto the garden at the back. What Stan thought was an apple tree grew right outside the window.