Lavender & Gold - 6. The Day After Yesterday

CHAPTER SIX

The Day After Yesterday

Ben took Mark by the arm, steering him towards the car.

‘No!’ Mark protested weakly. ‘I wanna go back in and dance!’

‘Yeah, well, you’re not,’ said Ben. ‘I’m taking you home and putting you to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.’

He pushed Mark into the backseat of the car and slid in after him. He gave Mike Mark’s address and strapped the boy in before putting on his own seatbelt.

‘Mm, bed. I like the sound of bed.’ Mark leaned across the middle seat and flicked his tongue out to lick Ben’s cheek. Ben pulled away.

‘Not here.’

‘Why not?’ Mark pouted. ‘You taste good. I know where else you taste good. . .’ He reached out towards Ben’s fly, but Ben grasped his hand before he could touch him.

‘I said no!’ he growled. He kept Mark’s hand in his for the remainder of the trip.

When they got out of the car, Ben told Mike he could go home. Then he steered Mark down towards the basement, fished the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He sat Mark down on the bed and got a large glass of water for him. Mark downed the whole glass at once. Then he lay down of his own accord. Ben helped him peel off his jeans and put the duvet over him before going to lie down on the couch.

‘Won’t you sleep in my bed?’ Mark asked a moment later.

‘No.’

‘But I’m cold.’

‘No, you’re not, you’re burning up,’ said Ben. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘Okay,’ said Mark meekly. He seemed to be coming down, and a few minutes later his breathing evened out and he was asleep.

He didn’t wake when his mobile rang about fifteen minutes later. Ben pulled it out of Mark’s trouser pocket. The screen told him that ‘Alex’ was calling. He frowned at the name for a moment, debating whether or not to answer. In the end he decided he better had.

‘Hello?’

There was a lot of noise in the background. One of the friends still at the party, then. ‘Mark? Where are you? No, wait, who’s this?’ The man spoke in an American accent.

‘This is Mark’s boyfriend,’ said Ben through gritted teeth. ‘I’m assuming you’re one of the idiots who thought it would be a good idea to give E to a depressed person?’

‘Don’t blame me, the guy needed cheering up,’ said the voice of Alex. He sounded about as bothered as Mark had. ‘I take it you two squared up, then? Good for you. Put Mark on?’

‘Mark is asleep. I took him home.’

‘Aww, you should have come partied with us instead! Whatever. I hope you gave it to him good, he looked like he needed it.’

Ben said nothing.

‘Your voice sounds kind of familiar. . . Have we met?’

‘I am almost positive we haven’t,’ said Ben. ‘Now, if you would excuse me, I am going to sleep as well. Oh, and, Alex? If you value keeping your spleen intact. . . don’t offer my lover drugs, ever again.’

He hung up without awaiting a reply. That may have been hasty, he realised, not to mention melodramatic. But what was done was done. No point in worrying about it.

Ben spent a long time lying awake on the too-short couch, listening to Mark’s breathing. He finally drifted off to sleep himself.

* * *

Ben made no attempt to rouse Mark when he woke up the following morning, opting to let him sleep. Instead he went through his fridge but found nothing edible. Borrowing Mark’s key, he took a walk to the nearest Sainsbury’s to buy coffee, bread, cheese, eggs and orange juice. As it was relatively early on a Sunday, there were few people about to potentially badger him, and Ben was left blessedly alone. The cashier recognised him, however, and asked for his autograph for his niece. Ben obliged.

When he got back, he put the kettle on and proceeded to find a book in Mark’s expansive collection to read.

At around one o’clock, Ben’s mobile rang.

‘Good morning, Harry,’ said Ben.

‘Afternoon,’ Harry corrected. ‘Have you sorted things out?’

Ben glanced over at the sleeping form of Mark in the bed. ‘Not yet.’

‘Well, let me know when you have, and when you’ve decided what you want to do. I’ve e-mailed over a couple of potential statements. Please have a look at your leisure.’

‘Sure.’

Mark stirred slightly in the bed.

‘I’ve got to go, Harry,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll call you later.’

‘Make sure you do! Bye.’

Mark sat up very slowly, rubbing his eyes. He turned his head to look at Ben.

‘Ben? Wha—what’re you doing here?’ He clutched his stomach. ‘Oh, shit . . .’ He tumbled out of bed quicker than looked comfortable, and hurried off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Ben calmly went over to the kitchenette, poured a cup of coffee and stuck it in the microwave for a few seconds. Then he set it down on the coffee table and sat back down on the couch with his book.

Mark reemerged a few minutes later, looking slightly pale. Ben nodded towards the cup of coffee, and Mark sat down next to him, picking up the cup and taking a sip. He grimaced.

‘How are you feeling?’ asked Ben.

‘Like death,’ Mark replied grimly. ‘I . . . I think I had a pretty awesome time last night, though. It’s all sort of . . . blurry.’

‘You took E.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Mark looked up at him. ‘You’re upset with me about that, aren’t you?’

Ben let out a breath of air and closed the book, placing it on the table in front of him. ‘Maybe,’ he admitted. ‘I suppose I don’t really understand why you did it . . .’

Mark scoffed. ‘Then you’re more clueless than I thought you were.’ He leaned back in his seat, sipping his coffee. ‘You . . . fucking left me. Dumped me, pretty much. I was . . .’ He seemed to be searching for words. ‘I was completely fucking destroyed. Then some friends rang me up, invited me out, and I thought it was better than sitting at home moping, so I went. Sort of told them what was wrong when they asked, that I’d had a fight with my lover and felt like crap, and they wanted to cheer me up. So they got some shit. Ecstasy, ketamine . . . I went with just the E.’ He sighed. ‘You weren’t supposed to see me like that.’

‘No?’ Ben felt the anger rise in his voice. ‘How was I bloody well supposed to see you? Dead after an overdose?’

‘No one ODs on E!’ said Mark dismissively.

‘Yes, they bloody well do!’ Ben was barely aware that he had even raised his voice before he was half-standing, chest heaving. He took a breath and sat back down again. ‘Look, I know what drugs can do, all right? I’m hardly a stranger to the concept myself.’

‘I’m not a junkie!’ Mark set the cup down rather harder than necessary and turned towards him, taking his hand. ‘Please, listen to me . . . I’ve only taken E, like, once before. Maybe twice. I don’t party much. Fuck, I barely even smoke weed, all right? I just . . . I felt like shit . . .’ His eyes welled up with tears then, and he brushed angrily at his cheeks with his hand. Then he seemed to shudder and just sort of collapse against Ben, who held him tightly.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, I . . . I really am.’

Mark clung to his shirt, sobbing and shaking. ‘I know . . . This isn’t about that, it’s just . . . aftershock . . .’

‘I’m still sorry.’

Ben held Mark until he’d calmed down again. Then he let go and Mark pulled a few deep breaths. ‘Fucking hell,’ he muttered. ‘I’m so tired . . .’

‘You slept for eleven hours.’

‘I’m still tired.’

‘Think you could eat something?’

Mark seemed to consider for a moment. Then he shook his head. ‘Not yet. No appetite. Besides, I’ll just get the shits again.’

‘Right, more information than I wanted, there.’ Ben smiled wryly.

‘Sorry,’ said Mark, completely unapologetically. Then he grew serious. ‘Thank you. For getting me home and looking after me.’

‘Well, it’s the least I could do.’ Ben shrugged. ‘I really am sorry, you know. About yesterday . . . It wasn’t fair of me, any of it.’

‘It’s okay,’ Mark mumbled, looking down at his hands.

‘No, it’s not.’ Ben reached out to cup Mark’s chin, and Mark met his gaze. ‘Sorry isn’t enough. I want to make it up to you.’

‘You don’t have to do anything,’ said Mark weakly. ‘I think . . . I seem to remember I said some fairly mean things to you last night . . . I think we’re kind of even. So, I’ll forgive you if you’ll forgive me.’

Ben smiled. ‘Deal.’ Then he leaned in for a chaste kiss. ‘I feel like I should leave you, let you get some rest,’ he said, pulling away. ‘But I do need to talk to you about what’s going to happen next. So, how about I come back tonight? I’ll cook you dinner.’

‘I can’t guarantee I’ll have an appetite,’ said Mark, ‘but all right.’

‘I bought some bread and cheese and things,’ Ben told him. ‘In case you do get hungry. And you can call me if you need anything. And I mean anything, I’ll just be at home. All right?’

Mark nodded. Ben leaned in for another kiss and then he stood up to leave. ‘Make sure you get some proper rest.’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’

* * *

When Ben got home he took a shower and changed his clothes. Then he sat down at his computer and rifled through his e-mails. His agent had been in touch about a script, a few fan letters had been forwarded to him, and Harry had sent him two drafts for a press statement. One that confirmed The Sun’s piece (‘Mr. Connor has for the past few weeks been seeing . . .’) and one that denied it (‘These rumours are nothing but hearsay and speculation’). Neither sounded right. Pandering to the media circus was Ben’s least favourite part of the job.

An idea struck him. Ben opened a text document and got to typing.

To my dear fans,

I am sure you are all aware of the rumours. Most of you were probably aware of them long before I was. And I am certain that you are all looking for answers. At this time I have none to give.

What I would like to do is ask you all to leave it be. I find it painful and insulting that my personal life, my friendships and relationships, should be public domain. I do not see how it is anyone’s business but my own whom I spend time with, date or fall in love with.

I know that you all see the hypocrisy in this situation. Had such a photograph been taken of me with a woman in a similar circumstance, no one would care. While it might have been assumed that this was someone I was seeing romantically, it would not have been big news. I do not see why this should be either.

I would ask that you stop circulating the photograph. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the other person in it. This is a request, not a demand. I do not intend to take legal action against anyone who does not comply. I would simply ask that you do not complicate a young man’s life just because he happened to be seen in a photograph with me.

This is a somewhat unorthodox way of doing things. Normally at this point, my publicist would be drafting a statement to be sent out to the press, either confirming, denying or detailing my refusal to comment on these rumours. Instead, I have asked him to post this statement to my official website, as well as send it to all the major fan sites. It is my hope that if you, the fans, declare your indifference in this matter, it will very quickly become a non-story, as it should be.

With love and respect,

Benjamin Connor

He read through it a few times. He was certain that Harry would not be happy about this.

A text from Mark buzzed in.

Angsting out. Please come.

Ben copy-pasted the text into an e-mail and sent it to Harry. He rang him on the way out the door. His publicist had evidently already seen the e-mail, because he answered with, ‘What the hell is this supposed to be?’

‘This is what I’d like you to do.’ Ben hailed a cab. ‘I meant what I wrote. I don’t see that this is any of the media’s business. I am convinced that if we do this, this story will quickly die down, at least in Britain.’

‘But not necessarily in America,’ Harry pressed. ‘Hollywood isn’t London, Ben.’

‘If we comment one way or the other, we fuel the flames.’ Ben paused to give the cabbie Mark’s address. ‘I won’t lie, but there’s really nothing to confirm either. I am seeing someone. I don’t know if this is a committed relationship or what. I don’t see that it matters. I just want my personal life left alone. Is that so much to ask? Let them speculate.’

He heard Harry sigh on the other end. Then he said, ‘All right. If this is what you want to do, I’ll do my best to help you.’

‘Thank you, Harry.’

* * *

He knocked on Mark’s door three times. When there was no answer, he tried again, accompanying the knocking with a cautious, ‘Mark? It’s me.’ Shuffling footsteps could be heard from within, and then Mark pulled the door open a fraction.

‘Hey,’ said Ben softly. ‘Can I come in?’

Mark nodded, taking several steps back so Ben could open the door fully. Then he just stood in the middle of the floor, hugging himself awkwardly. His hair looked slightly damp. He had obviously showered, and had changed into a black hoodie, with what Ben assumed was some band logo or another on it, and grey sweats. His feet were bare.

Ben stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He shed his shoes and then took a few steps towards Mark, stopping at a safe distance, as though he were approaching a frightened animal.

‘You okay?’

Mark shook his head. ‘Not really.’

Ben took another couple of steps, closing the distance between them, and carefully put his arms around Mark. He was shivering, but upon contact he seemed to relax against Ben, letting out a shuddering sigh.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Ben softly.

‘Nothing.’ Mark shook his head again. ‘Just, you know, general anxiety. I feel sort of . . . scared, but I don’t really know what of.’

‘It’s all right. You’re all right.’ Ben stroked Mark’s back soothingly. ‘You’re still coming down, that’s all. Back to normal in a few hours.’

‘Yeah . . .’ Mark appeared to hesitate for a moment. ‘I was getting compulsions,’ he admitted at last. ‘I wanted to . . . hurt myself. So I thought I’d better . . . It was best if you came and stopped me.’

‘That was some very good thinking,’ said Ben with a smile.

Mark laughed weakly. ‘I have my moments,’ he mumbled.

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, Mark lying half-asleep with his head in Ben’s lap while the latter finished the book he had started reading that morning. Somewhere around six in the evening, Mark sat up and announced that he was hungry, and Ben went to the shop and bought ingredients for a stir-fry. He improvised a sauce from orange juice and soy sauce (which was one of the few things Mark had in his kitchen cupboards). Mark wolfed his food down so quickly that Ben worried he’d make himself sick, but he did not.

After they had eaten, they collapsed back in the same position. Ben ran his fingers through Mark’s hair, trying to formulate in his head what he wanted to say. Now that Mark was feeling better, it felt like it was time they talk about the press or their relationship or the drugs, or all three.

Mark beat him to it. ‘Ben?’

‘Mhm?’

Mark chewed his lower lip, brow furrowed, before glancing up at Ben’s face. ‘What happens now?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ben let out a sigh. ‘I wrote an e-mail earlier, for Harry to send out to all the fan sites, asking them to let the matter lie. My fans aren’t screaming fourteen-year-olds. Generally they’re mature and intelligent human beings, so I’m hoping that will be enough to kill the story for a while. As for us . . .’

Mark looked away. ‘Thanks for looking after me today. I’ll understand if this whole thing will have put you off—’

Ben spoke over him. ‘I’m falling in love with you.’

Mark shut up abruptly and turned his wide eyes back on Ben. Ben felt his heart pounding in his chest as they regarded one another. Then Mark reached up to caress his cheek. He sat up and, putting his arms around Ben’s neck, kissed him fiercely. Ben kissed him back, once again forgetting all his concerns and letting himself get lost in the sensation of Mark’s embrace, Mark’s eyelashes against his cheek, Mark’s tongue in his mouth, Mark’s scent in his nostrils. Ben enveloped him in his arms, pulling him closer.

His lover pulled back slightly and, eyes still closed, whispered, ‘In case that didn’t convey it well enough . . . I’ve been in love with you for a while now.’

Ben chuckled, deep in his throat, and felt Mark shudder against him. He was quite certain that this shudder wasn’t caused by anxiety or aftershock, and smiled wider. Mark opened his eyes. He no longer looked nervous or anxious or afraid. Instead he looked every bit the flirty, confident young man Ben had first met. That filled him with relief. Mark was all right. Everything would be all right, one way or another.

He suddenly remembered something. ‘I may have referred to myself as your boyfriend to your friend Alex last night.’

Mark frowned. ‘Alex? When did you talk to him?’

‘He rang you after you’d fallen asleep. Wanted to know where you’d got to. I also may or may not have threatened him with grievous bodily harm if he ever gave you drugs again.’

Mark laughed. ‘I’ll murder him myself if he tries. I’m done with drugs. Today . . . has not been pleasant. If I ever express to you in any way that I want to get high, feel free to knock me unconscious.’

Ben chuckled again. He soon sobered, however, remembering something else. ‘I’m leaving for America in a week.’

Mark nodded. ‘I know.’

‘I’ll be gone for over two months, shooting this film. I can’t ask you to wait for me.’

‘You don’t have to ask,’ said Mark. ‘I’ll do it anyway. I want to.’

He did not ask that Ben do the same, nor did he try to tell him he shouldn’t. They both knew, somehow, that there was no need to do either.

Then Mark was kissing him again, tasting like the promise of good things to come, and Ben resolutely ignored the little voice in his head that asked, But what about the next time you have a fight? What about the next time he is really upset about something? Are you really going to entrust your heart to someone who is so utterly incapable of taking care of his own?