Crying in the Rain (Hiding Behind The Couch Character and Festive Episodes)

6 Crush

Ade

T ommy : You startled me.

R ose : Shh. He’s asleep downstairs. How are you feeling?

T ommy : Fine.

R ose : You don’t look fine.

T ommy : Well, I am. Perfectly fine.

R ose : When I think of how you used to look, with your wild hair, and your bright clothes… When did you stop wearing the designer blazers? They were so you.

T ommy : When I turned twenty-five. They made me look like a kids’ TV presenter.

R ose : When you met him. And what have you got to show for it apart from broken bones and bruises?

T ommy : I was unlucky.

R ose : Maybe… Don’t do that. Don’t touch me, Tommy. We mustn’t. I thought you loved me.

T ommy : Why do you think I’m doing this?

A de woke in a sweat, shaken up by the dream. He threw off the duvet and turned on his side, so tired, yet every time he neared sleep, his brain fired up again, searching for meaning. And then he was too cold. He gave up and stumbled away to the shower even though it was, once again, only five in the morning. More galling still, he was missing out on having the bed all to himself.

Under the soothing jets, he closed his eyes and replayed the day before, getting straight in his mind what was real and what wasn’t. The play. That had happened. Kris. Drinks after work. Also real. And Kris had noticed the bruises—pointed them out, in fact—but hadn’t mentioned them again or so much as looked at them, not in any way that was obvious. Sadly, as the suddenly soaring pain reminded Ade when he washed his face, the bruises were all too real.

The attraction was real too, at least on Ade’s part, and it did seem at the pub that Kris was interested, not to mention whatever it was that happened when they touched. But…could he trust his instincts? If his life wasn’t so difficult right now, he’d have considered Kris viable dating material from the moment he set eyes on him, but there was no escaping the truth that he was in this situation because his instincts had failed him before.

I thought you loved me.

Why do you think I’m doing this?

Those weren’t even the right lines, and in any case, it was just a dream. But he couldn’t deny he liked Kris. So he had a bit of a crush on an attractive guy who’d paid him the right kind of attention. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that. Kris was an actor; of course Ade would find him attractive. Actors were his type. Over-emotional, self-absorbed, indulgent, dangerous…

Except he hadn’t got those vibes from Kris. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

Oh, come on, Ade. Wishing for what? Shouldn’t you know better by now? He switched off the water and got out of the shower before the daydream carried him any further away from reality. He didn’t want a relationship with anyone. Not yet. Maybe not ever. They only ended in disaster.

Keeping his eyes averted from the mirror, he brushed his teeth, carefully. It hurt less than it had yesterday, which was something. Shaving was a non-starter, but when he did catch his reflection, he realised it was better that way; even with just a day’s stubble, the bruises were less noticeable, and less noticeable meant less likelihood of inquisition.

Half an hour later, running five minutes behind, Ade was at the door, ready to leave, when the sound of the key in the lock made him freeze in terror. He couldn’t do this. Not now. He had to go to work. The door opened.

Fergus smiled disarmingly. “Hi. I didn’t think I’d catch you.”

“You mean you were hoping you’d missed me.”

“Not at all.”

It was no coincidence that Fergus had arrived right after Ade would usually have left for work.

“You need to leave your key,” Ade said coolly, although his heart was pounding so hard he was starting to think he might have a heart attack from the stress.

“My stuff’s still here.”

Then take your stuff, give me my key, and get out of my FUCKING LIFE! That was what he wanted to say, what he needed to say, but it was stuck inside, languishing in the stack of unsaids from every other time. He shuffled soundlessly past Fergus, staring straight ahead of him at the door, his escape route, grasped the handle, breath held in hope, and started to press down.

“Ade.”

He closed his eyes in shame, but this was so normal he barely saw it as such. The familiar pattern slipped over him like prison bars, invisible yet cold and strong as steel. He refused to turn around and somehow kept his tone measured to say, “I’m late for work.”

“I’ll give you a lift. Just talk to me.”

“I’d rather walk.” Yet he wasn’t walking anywhere. The power over him, the fear that stilled him—it didn’t matter about work or success or earning his own way because it always came back to this.

“Please?” Fergus tried, turning the word into a pathetic whine .

Playing the ‘poor little me’ card. Don’t fall for it. “Later,” was all Ade could utter. Just. Leave.

“There won’t be a later.”

“Ferg…” Ade turned part way to face his ex-boyfriend. “I don’t want—”

“Didn’t I do what you asked of me?”

Ade didn’t answer.

“I stayed away, gave you space. I can’t help it if I still want to be with you.”

Still Ade said nothing. Whether it was fear or sense or simply weary resignation that stopped him, he didn’t know, but nor did Fergus know what to do with it, and it was working to Ade’s advantage.

“You want to be with me too,” Fergus stated.

Ade made a sound of disbelief under his breath. Fergus heard it.

“If you don’t, then what was Sunday night all about?”

Ade shook his head, feeling the anger and defencelessness swell, trying to suppress both with the few reserves he had left. This was how it started, how it always started.

“I’m going to work,” he said. He wrenched the door open and fled his apartment, down the stairs, through the entrance hall without stopping, bursting out onto the pavement breathless and panicked, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to get to the radio station, get past security to where Fergus couldn’t reach him, or not physically, but it wouldn’t end there. The mind games would take over, going where the punches, kicks and jaw-crushing restraints could not.

He didn’t stop until he reached the lift and flung himself inside, trying to breathe and not cry as the doors closed, carrying him upwards to his sanctuary. He couldn’t live like this. Not anymore. But what choice did he have? How many times had Fergus walked out on them, with lies of how Ade was spending too much time with his friends or flirting with him or him , as if Ade would dare to risk another punch, another bottle smashed over his head. Months would pass, and Ade was so damned angry with himself for missing Fergus, wanting everything to be right between them, how it used to be. How it used to be? No. It had always been hellish. What he remembered was his imaginary relationship, the ‘if only’ for all that was missing from every ‘if I can just get through this’. What he missed had never been.

The lift doors opened, and Ade drifted along the corridor towards studio three. It wasn’t being used today, and the prospect of just sitting in the dark, silent room propelled him, though his legs were dead weights and his vision was blurred and tunnelling. Peace: he needed peace. He reached the studio door and turned the handle.

“Ade!”

He jumped so violently he took the skin off his knuckles on the doorpost. No, no, no! He was going to vomit. He swallowed it back and turned to face his pursuer.

“Kris? What are you doing here?”

Kris slowed as he reached Ade’s location, keeping his distance. “Hey. Are you OK?”

“Fine,” Ade said, attempting bright and breezy through clenched teeth.

“You don’t look fine.”

Ade laughed somewhat hysterically and wasn’t sure he could stop.

Kris’s eyes crinkled with concern. “What did I say?”

“You, er…” Ade scratched his head in confusion. “Why are you here again?”

“Ah, well.” Kris cleared his throat and blushed. “My plan was to lie and tell you I’d lost my wallet and called in to see if I’d left it here.”

“But?”

“I don’t even own a wallet.”

“Right. So?”

“I wondered if you’d like to go for a drink with me again.”

“Now? ”

“I meant after work, but we could go for a coffee now…if you’d like to, that is.”

Before Ade had time to think about it, the words left his mouth. “Yes, I would.”

They both laughed lightly—Ade was almost certain Kris was in on whatever was happening between them—and stepped off, side by side, making their way back to the lift.

“Is there anywhere in particular you’d recommend?” Kris asked.

“Would you mind if we just went to the cafeteria?”

“Not at all.” Kris bashed his palm on his forehead. “You’re working. Do you want to leave it till later?”

The lift doors opened, and they stepped inside. Ade pushed the button and glanced at Kris. “No. I’d really like to have coffee with you. I have nothing scheduled for this morning.”

“But you still have to come in to work?”

“Not necessarily. I’d rather work here than at home, though.”

“Is that a boundaries thing?”

“Er…no. I have an unwelcome visitor, but hopefully he’ll get the message and have left before I get back this evening.”

Ade made it sound casual, like he’d picked up a guy after Kris left him in the pub the night before, and he must’ve been convincing because Kris’s stance changed, becoming more rigid, less open, and his expression… If Ade wasn’t very much mistaken, he was trying to hide his disappointment. His gaze dropped, straying dangerously close to the bruises, and Ade quickly intervened to save them both.

“I enjoyed your company last night.”

“Likewise. I wish I could’ve stayed longer.”

“I drank your beer. After you left.”

“Did you? Sorry.”

“And another two G and Ts. I don’t usually drink that much—don’t usually drink at all during the week. I got home at midnight and totally crashed out!”

Kris’s smile was back. “I don’t drink much either. ”

Phew! Not all in my head.

In the cafeteria, they queued together, neither speaking. It felt natural, comfortable, as if there was no need to fill the silence with small talk, yet Ade needed to know he wasn’t making another horrible mistake. Could he ask? Are you single? Interested? The sort of person to kick the living daylights out of your partner and then beg for a chance to do it again?

They bought lattes and took them over to the same table as the previous morning. For a while, they sat, quietly sipping and watching the activity around them, but anticipation hung in the air. Several times, Ade caught Kris doing the same thing he kept doing—taking a breath to speak and then releasing it. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but the longer it went on, the harder it became . There was so much he could have said that it seemed safer to say nothing.

Ade had just tipped the last of his latte into his mouth when Kris, bravely and devastatingly, broke the silence.

“If you ever want to talk about the bruises, I’m here to listen.”

The latte almost came back out. Ade swallowed and glared, but he couldn’t hold the eye contact. It was too probing.

“Or not,” Kris added. “You just seem so…”

When Kris didn’t finish the statement, Ade chanced looking up at him again. “So what?” he asked.

Kris shrugged. “On edge, I guess. Like when I called your name earlier… I’m sorry I startled you.”

“It’s OK. I was miles away.” Ade studied the frothy remnants of his drink. “You know that section of dialogue, after Rose wakes Tommy? I had a dream last night about that scene.”

“Understandable. We ran it four times yesterday.”

“True. But in the dream, it was you and me. And you were Rose.”

Kris made a sad face. “Was my Tommy that awful?”

Ade laughed. “You know it wasn’t, but you also make a wonderful Rose.”

Kris bowed his head in exaggerated thanks .

Ade rolled his eyes. “The lines were switched at the end, though. In my dream, I mean.” He felt his cheeks heat up. Why was he telling Kris this? It was one thing flirting and passing compliments, another entirely sharing his dream or any of his other thoughts, because this was already way deeper than physical attraction. For all Ade knew, Kris offered a listening ear to everyone and got hit on all the time. With the loud shirts and snug-fit pants, he didn’t exactly dress to blend into the background. That was a big part of the attraction, Ade realised. That Kris was permitted to dress however he liked.

Permitted. How ridiculous that anyone should need permission to wear the clothes they wanted to.

“I used to wear bright colours.” Ade quickly covered his mouth with his hand, wincing at the pressure on his bruises. He hadn’t meant to say it, but there was no taking it back now.