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

8 No Entry

Ade

A de climbed the stairs to his apartment, clinging to his good mood like a drowning man to flotsam. Ten hours ago, he’d been racing down these very stairs, trying to outrun the shitstorm that was his life with Fergus Campbell in it. He’d genuinely believed it was futile. In a stupid moment of weakness, he’d let the emotion vampire back in, been seduced by his lies of getting help, trying harder, doing better, and what was the point in running when all you were doing was running around the same circle? It was easier to lie down and submit than fight to break free again.

But then Kris had shown up, and the shock seemed to have jolted Ade’s heart back into its old rhythm, reminding him: he’d had a life before Fergus; surely, he could have one after Fergus too. Whether Kris would be a part of that life in the longer term, Ade didn’t care to predict, but he was certainly persistent—not in a pushy way. He’d given Ade plenty of chances to back out of their date, which Ade had no intention of doing, and he really wished he could have given Kris an unqualified yes, but he didn’t know what he was coming home to or if he’d be able to get out of the apartment without causing a scene. THE apartment? YOUR apartment, for God’s sake! What happened to your backbone?

Slowing his steps, he tiptoed the last few yards to his front door and halted, listening for noise within.

Nothing.

Fergus usually had the stereo blasting and the TV on at the same time .

He’s gone.

Sagging in relief, Ade pushed his key into the lock. It wouldn’t turn.

“The absolute…” Ade knocked on the door, irritated he had to. He was so done with the mind games, but of course, he got no answer. He knocked again, harder this time. “Ferg? Open the door, please.”

Still nothing and getting angrier by the second, Ade called Fergus’s phone and heard it ringing inside the apartment. He hammered on the door. “Fergus, come on!”

But along with the anger, he was starting to worry. He’d been here before, when Fergus had taken an overdose after Ade finished things the second time and then sat sneering at Ade in A the TV remote was in two pieces at the base of the far wall.

“Going for a piss,” Fergus announced and staggered away to the bathroom .

Until then, Ade had had no idea how he was going to get Fergus out of the flat, and he’d need to work quickly if he was going to pull it off. Grabbing the landline phone with one hand, he scooped up all of Fergus’s pocket junk with the other and went out onto the balcony, from where he ordered a cab and shoved the junk into the pocket of Fergus’s jacket, still hanging on the back of the patio chair. The toilet flushed. Ade took a few deep breaths to steady himself and held position.

Fergus emerged from the bathroom and looked around him in a daze, his mouth twisting into a leer when he spotted Ade on the balcony. He meandered out and cupped Ade’s face, brushing his thumb roughly up his cheekbone, dragging the skin with it. The pain was nothing, but the stench of Fergus’s breath, heavy with wine and garlic, almost had Ade retching. He breathed through his mouth and hoped it didn’t show as he said casually, “That was the taxi firm to say the car’s on its way.”

Some of Mary’s muscle balm must’ve transferred onto Fergus’s fingers, as he was scowling at them but looked up when Ade’s words registered. “Taxi?” he slurred, his eyes wandering and stupid as he tried to stare Ade down. “Did I order a… I don’t think… I don’t…”

Ade edged sideways and picked up Fergus’s jacket, holding it open for him. Miraculously, Fergus was going along with it and after a couple of attempts managed to get one arm in each sleeve. And there was the honk of a car horn.

“That’s yours,” Ade said, using his body to steer Fergus back inside and through the apartment. As he reached the door, he sensed resistance, and Fergus groped at the empty keyhole, but Ade kept him moving, past the door and out into the communal hallway. If he could just persuade him to leave the building, it would be all right. He could do this. That was what he was telling himself, anyway.

He heard Mary cough to reassure him that she was still there. Fergus looked her way and then back at Ade, realisation dawning in his eyes. For a horrible second, Ade thought Fergus was going to shove him back inside the apartment, but then he just sneered and leaned in, swaying forward until their noses were pressed together. Ade stayed as still as could be. Still was invisible; still was safer.

“Don’t ever think you’re cleverer than me, cos you’re not. You’re nothing without me.” Fergus staggered back and eyed Ade up and down in disgust. “Skinny ginger runt. Who’d want anything to do with you? You vile little fuck.”

Ade was shaking with fear and rage, but his anger was draining away, leaving an empty void into which self-doubt poured. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. But he didn’t really believe that anymore. If you heard it too many times, it became the truth.

It took all his strength to stay in one piece as he waited for Fergus to disappear from view, his uneven shuffled footsteps on the stairs slowly becoming distant, a rumbling storm that could turn and come back at any moment. The door downstairs slammed shut, and Ade fell against the wall, sliding down until he hit the floor and sat, openly sobbing, not for Fergus but for himself—for the man he had become.

“All right now,” Mary murmured, wrapping her arms around him. “You let it all out. I’ve got you.” He had no doubt about that. Sweet little old lady she might be, but she was a force to be reckoned with.

“Did you…” Ade sniffed and swallowed down a ton a snot. “Did you call the police?”

“I did, lovey. They’ll be here in forty minutes, they said. Forty minutes.” She shook her head. “You could be dead by then…”

Ade turned and gave her a look.

“I didn’t mean you in particular, you daft bugger. But while we’re on the subject, are you going to change the locks again?”

Ade shook his head and, before she got in another chance to tell him he was daft, plucked Fergus’s key from his pocket. “Ta-da!”

“Oh, thank God! ”

He held the key out to her. “For you,” he said. “Just in case.”

She took it from him and dropped it into her pocket. “Here, you’d best give me a hand up.”

He did so, carefully, wincing with her as she straightened to her full, tiny height.

“You know what else, Mary?”

“What?”

He was smiling—quite feebly, but smiling, nonetheless. “I have a date.”

“A date?” She beamed back at him. “Oh, I’m so pleased for you, Ade!”

“Thank you. For everything. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been so kind and patient.”

Mary tutted dismissively, but he saw her wipe her eye before she gave him a gentle shove towards his apartment and said, “Well, what’re standing out here for? Go and get yourself ready!”

Laughing, he pushed the door open and turned back to look at her. She flapped her hands to shoo him inside.

“You have a lovely time, do you hear?” she said sternly. “You deserve it.”

“I will,” Ade promised, albeit with a trembling lip.