Drew Payne

Shaun sat on his bed, his left leg stretched out as far he could manage in front of him, as he slowly swallowed his morning’s pain killers, dressed only in a fresh pair of underpants and a white tee-shirt. Three different pain killers and one tablet to lower his stomach’s acid, to help ease the pain killers’ side effects. He was slowly swallowing them with the aid of another can of diet coke from his tiny fridge, the drink was refreshingly cold as it washed down each tablet, one at a time. This

I just want to say keep reading, life twists and turns.

Wow what a wonderful summary of the story, and the Thoreau quote runs through so much of my writing, not just this story. I hope you have kept reading because this story is typical of my writing, and were you think its going is not always were the story ends up. Thank you for the feedback, you have identified so many of the themes I wrote about.

Thank you for your feedback, I really value it. Shaun really doesn't know Harley yet either, but when I write the second instalment, I plan to delve much more into Harley's character and his actions. I just have to write it.

It’s not much of a spoiler to say that I find Shaun and Harley a fascinating couple and I want to tell more of their story. That's why I am planning to do. My plan is that this will be the first part of the story, with parts two and three to come. The problem is that I've planned parts two and three, I just haven't written them yet. I will.

Shaun slowly turned his head and looked at his travel clock, which he’d perched on the bedside table. Its glowing green digits told him it was three-forty in the morning. Something had woken him from his sleep. His mind tried to search for what was wrong, what had woken him. Then, a moment later, he realised what was different, he was lying next to Harley, who was deeply asleep, he was sharing this bed with Harley. He’d been woken by Harley turning over in his sleep. Harley now lay on his le

I wanted Harley to see Shaun as the attractive guy he is, and if the sex had been mediocre it wouldn't have done Shaun much. Thanks, I'm glad the sex scene worked, it's so easy to make it sound like porn, all in and out and nothing else.

The Gate theory, distraction therapy, call it what you will, but affection does help.

A bit of affection goes a long way, and no it doesn't stop here, though this was a bloody difficult scene to write.

Spoilers!... But I do like the character of Harley and kindness does make things better.

"Spoilers sweaty, spoilers" As I wrote this originally, I realised that there is another subject to mine here. Shaun, his mother, his father and his brother Nathan, and the whole f*cked-up family relationships there. That's why I am planning the second and third chapter of this story.

That's a very good idea, but I'm afraid the next part of the story shows what the state of Shaun's mind.

His mother cares about her business, her position in society, etc... Just not Shaun. I'm planning this as a trilogy and in the second part I want to explore his relationship with his mother and why she behaves the way she does, to introduce her and Shaun's brother Nathan as full characters, not just seen from Shaun looking back on them. And yes, she blames him, that's why I gave her that attitude. Do keep reading, things change for Shaun.

To quote the Time Travelling Role Model for us all, Professor River Sung, "Spoilers sweaty, spoilers." I don't want to say what happens, but I've already planned it out.

I don't want to say anything about Shaun's parentage, that's a big part of the plan I'm working on for the next installment of this story. The public impression is that people commit suicide as a "cry for help", but I have found that it's far more complicated than that. Suicide can be an act of despair or as a way to finally end suffering. Suicide can be such a complicated act. The first scene of this story is a set-up for this scene, but don't stop reading here, there's more to this story. Here's a link at a different story that I wrote on a similar theme: https://tablo.io/drew-payne/a-morning-at-the-beach-in-the-warm-sun

The gulls were from real life. When we went to Scarborough I felt those gulls were stalking us. It felt like they were following us everywhere we went and they would sit outside our hotel room and stare in at us through the window.

Shaun rested his head on Harley’s shoulder while Harley’s left arm rested across his own shoulders, pulling their bodies close together. They lay side-by-side in Shaun’s hotel bed, a bed that now seemed much smaller that the large double bed he’d found himself lost in when he’d slept there alone. Their bodies were pressed close together, their flanks and hips and legs pressed each other’s, Shaun’s right leg resting on top of Harley’s left leg, and his right hand lay on Harley’s left hip, his fin

Once Harley had Shaun’s trousers completely removed, he tossed them onto the sofa with the rest of their discarded clothes, and he looked at Shaun’s naked left leg for a moment. Shaun had the desperate urge to cover his left leg with his hands, to hide his scars from Harley’s eyes, but it was too late. So he just sat there, now only dressed in his grey boxer briefs and white cotton, short sleeved shirt. “Your leg doesn’t look bad, just a bit scarred, that’s all,” Harley said. “But… How d

“Our floor,” Harley said. “Are you good to walk on your own?” “Yes, I’m good,” Shaun replied. He would have loved to have walked along that corridor with Harley’s strong arm wrapped around his waist, Harley’s almost intoxicating masculine presence right next to him, pushing up against his own body, but in all honesty how could he ask Harley to do this just to give him a cheap, sexual thrill. Harley walked along, next to him, as they wound their walk along the narrow and twisting corridor

Thank you. I have never liked those easy, Hollywood emotional responses. I have found that human being are such complicated beings and that we don't behave in the way simplistic fiction says we should. I have a very heightened sense of social and legal justice, but when I was mugged (Over 10 years ago now) all I could think about was my personal safety. I had no desire for my muggers to be caught, I just wanted to know that I'd never have to see them again. Shaun isn't me, not by a long way, and writing him there was never any question he wanted "justice" against his attackers, he's too beaten down for that, at this point in his life.

But he blames himself for the attack, he feels it's his own fault. He's deeply screwed up, I sort of know where he has been.

Thanks for what you said about the NHS. I work for the NHS and I believe so much in its guiding principles. Shaun is suffering from PTSD and that isn't logical. His mind is too obsessed with how he should have avoided the attack to really think about getting his attackers caught. He is also deeply in the closet so he would have to come out to report the truth of his attack. He's deeply screwed and screwed-up.

But his mother is a caring woman, its just that Shaun is very, very low on her list of priorities.

If he'd written his PIN number down somewhere, like a false number on his phone, then the bank can argue that it was his fault he lost his money. It has happened in Britain before. In Britain, for a private rented flat, you pay one month's rent in advance, plus a security deposit (to cover any damages to the property and/or furnishing. This can't be used to cover the rent), and any fees the managing agent/estate agent demand. A tenant has to fall behind with three months or more rent before a landlord can get them evicted. All that said, Shaun is lying in a hospital bed, badly injured, failing to cope with PTSD, no wonder he easily agrees with mother's demands. I have nursed people in similar situations like Shaun's, they are in no position to make any decisions. This is also an important plot point in Shaun's life.

He only made it back as far as the hotel’s lobby before he’d had to sit down again. His damn leg was throbbing so much that each step had become a painful struggle. He had just made it into the lobby before he’d dropped down onto the first empty chair he could find. The large lobby was populated with round small tables, which had semi-circle armchairs grouped around them. The idea seemed to be for the hotel guests to use them for high-tea or evening drinks, but they mostly seemed to stand empty,