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

18 Whatever Happens

Ade

B ack at K ris and Shaunna’s place, the homely calm lulled Ade into a semi-catatonic state, and it was only when Kris freed his hand so he could go to the bathroom that Ade realised he’d been sitting on the Johanssons’ very comfortable sofa for so long his cup of tea was stone cold. He watched Kris leave, the blank space filling with the image of that sneer, his throat constricting as if Fergus’s hand was still around it. He’d thought Fergus was going to kill him, and in that moment, he almost hadn’t cared.

“…today, hun?”

“Hmm?” Ade blinked out of his trance and looked over at Shaunna, who was curled up in the armchair, her gaze on the TV, but she was watching him too. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Have you eaten today?”

“I…I honestly don’t know.”

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” She flipped her legs down and pushed her feet into her slippers.

“Don’t go to any trouble on my—”

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m an old hand at this. Kris told you about his mental health, didn’t he?”

Ade nodded. “You looked after him. But you’re not my wife.”

“And I did the same for my dad after my mum died, and my mate Adele after every relationship break-up because—”

“I don’t want to be a burden. ”

“ Because it’s what I do, hun. I know you don’t want to eat, but it’s important, so, what do you like?”

Ade shrugged. He wasn’t winning this one. “I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

“OK. I’ll go and make dinner.” Shaunna stood and picked up his undrunk tea. “Are you finished with this?” She was halfway to the door before he registered the question.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Actually…” She backtracked and took his hand. “Come and help me.”

Too tired to fight and quite sure he’d lose anyway, Ade let her pull him up from the sofa and lead him through to the kitchen. She released him, and he stuttered to a stop. Shaunna sighed fondly.

“See? You’ve run out of fuel.” She pointed to a dining chair. “Sit.”

Ade sat, his gaze falling to the pine kitchen table. With its multitude of scrapes and worn dark knots, it had clearly been in service for many years. He traced his finger around a faded circular scorch, along an ancient groove. The table seemed to have a warmth all of its own. What a story you could tell, full of happy family life, Sunday roasts, homework, chats with friends—

Ade’s view was suddenly interrupted as potatoes, a peeler and a pan were set down on a sheet of newspaper in front of him.

“Peel,” Shaunna instructed.

Ade picked up a potato and started peeling.

“What do you do for fun?” she asked.

“Fun?” Ade was bamboozled by the question.

“Let me rephrase that. What did you used to do before It stole all your fun?”

“Ah.” Ade attempted a smile. He appreciated her candour. “I went to warehouse raves a lot when I was younger, but I prefer nightclubs these days—places with live performances.”

“Strip clubs?” Shaunna teased .

“No.” Ade’s smile broadened. “Although I’ve seen some marvellous sights.”

Shaunna went comically wide-eyed, her mouth forming a delighted ooh , then she laughed. “I bet,” she said. “You can tell me all about them later. Do you like chicken?”

“Who doesn’t?”

She took a bag out of the freezer. “How are you getting on there?” Like a teacher checking a pupil’s work, she peered over Ade’s shoulder on her way to the microwave. “Good job.”

Ade chuckled. “Thank you.”

“It helps, I find,” she said, pausing to set three chicken fillets on defrost. “Having things to do. Like, when Krissi was giving us hell a couple of years ago, I just kept going, you know? And we’d have guests round, and they’d say, ‘Oh, you’re coping really well,’ when I was actually just keeping my head occupied with baking, cleaning, gardening or whatever. I mean, there are worse ways of getting through, right?”

“Right,” Ade said. He’d done the same himself—filled every void with activity to crowd out the pain—and it worked pretty well in the short term. Not so much when the problem never went away.

“So what kind of live performances do you like?” Shaunna cut in before he drifted off again. She had a knack for that.

“Any, really,” he said. “Musical theatre and stage plays are my faves, but I enjoy dance too. How about you?”

“I’m not into dance the way you mean, but I love going out dancing and live music. We used to go to a lot of gigs—not sure why we don’t anymore, actually. We’ve been to all sorts. Big stadium concerts, little shows in pubs. And it doesn’t matter which it is, guaranteed someone always asks Kris for his autograph.”

“How do they know who he is?”

“What do you mean?”

“With him being on radio.”

“Oh! No, I meant because of him looking like Morten Harket. ”

Ade did a quick mental comparison. He couldn’t see it, but he wasn’t going to say so. “I suppose he does a bit.”

“He was the spitting image of him till last year…” Shaunna became quiet, her expression shifting with her thoughts—trouble, sadness, fear. She sighed. “Kris has always been very slim, but for a while, he completely stopped eating. He lost so much weight, it was frightening. I don’t know if it was the depression or the medication doing it, but it was like something was stopping the signals between his brain and the rest of his body, which I suppose is how antidepressants work. Anyway, I discovered if I stuck food in front of him, I could get him to eat. One. Forkful. At. A. Time.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “So you’re ‘I’m not hungry’ is a mere trifle to me.”

“Actually, I quite like trifle,” Ade said with a grin as the kitchen door opened and Kris came back in.

“What needs doing?” he asked, keeping his face averted from both Ade and Shaunna.

“Broccoli, maybe?” she suggested, watching with a worried frown as he passed her to reach the vegetable rack. As he turned back, he fleetingly met Ade’s gaze, his bloodshot eyes giving away precisely what he’d been doing in the bathroom.

“Here you go.” Ade handed Shaunna the pan, now full of peeled potatoes, and rounded the table. Grabbing Kris by the arm, he tugged gently. “Hey. Come here.”

Kris shook his head and tried to carry on even though he’d dissolved into tears again.

“No,” Ade said, tugging hard on Kris’s arm until he spun around. “I will not be the cause of this.”

Kris resisted a few seconds longer but then buried his face in Ade’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” His voice juddered as he clung to Ade.

“Why are you sorry?”

Kris shrugged. “Because.”

“Because?”

“What you went through, and I can’t change any of it. ”

“Well, no, of course you can’t.”

“I’m supposed to stay strong for you, not the other way around.”

“I don’t think there are any rules for these kinds of messed-up situations, but this isn’t you being weak. This is you caring and hurting because I am, and let me tell you, I already care too much about you to see you hurting like this because of me. Or because of him.”

Kris sniffled. “You’re incredible, do you know that?”

“Why, thank you,” Ade said lightly.

“It makes me lo—” Kris swayed backwards and released his grip on Ade. He looked horrified by what he’d almost said, and if it was what Ade thought…

“Too fast,” Kris muttered, backing off completely. “I invited you here because it’s a safe space, somewhere to rest up, not so I could hit on you. We’ve only known each other three days. My mouth just ran away from me—”

“It’s OK,” Ade interjected gently, pulling Kris close again. He couldn’t decide if his heart was going at a million miles a minute or he was picking up on both their heartbeats and rested his hand on Kris’s chest as he looked him in the eyes. “It is fast, that’s very true.”

“That doesn’t make it wrong,” Shaunna said from across the kitchen.

Kris held Ade’s gaze, the sparkle returning despite the pink puffiness that made his irises seem an even cooler blue than usual.

“She’s a feeder,” he said, trying to rally. “Did she tell you?” Shaunna tutted. “This potato-peeling gig she’s got you on? It’s part of her ploy to feed you up and turn you into a fatty like me.”

“Ha!” Ade slipped his hand around Kris’s side and ran a finger over his ribs. “What fat is that?”

Kris jerked at the touch.

“Oh, so you’re ticklish, are you?”

“Nooo,” Kris claimed, even though he was jolting about all over the place .

“He’s so ticklish,” Shaunna said.

Ade laughed but stopped his low-level torture and took over trimming and steaming broccoli, leaving Kris to mash the potatoes, while Shaunna concocted the creamiest, most delicious garlic chicken ever. The banter continued as they ate together, with a little help from Casper, who begged shamelessly, despite—Kris was quick to assure Ade—never being rewarded for such naughtiness in the normal scheme of things.

This was far from the normal scheme of things, yet it felt right and familiar. So they’d only known each other three days, only had one date, only shared a bed for convenience. Ade was emotionally wrecked, and Kris wasn’t faring much better, but the longer Ade spent in the welcoming warmth of this well-loved kitchen and the company of two of the sweetest people he’d ever known—and Casper, of course—the stronger he became.

Friends of my own, whatever happens.

It was only the start, he knew. He had a lot more work to do before he could, finally, declare his life Fergus-free.