Lavender & Gold - 8. The Brief Silence

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Brief Silence

Ben Connor was seen, once again, in the company of his leading lady, Matilda Weber, laughing over a cup of coffee outside the set for their new film, The King’s Man. The two seem to be getting along splendidly, with romance in the air, and this blogger for one is starting to believe there was really nothing to those ugly rumours circulating a few weeks ago.[. . .]

[. . .]Matilda Weber, home-grown Ohio girl, here depicted on set with her current costar and suspected love interest Benjamin Connor[. . .]

Benjamin Connor, star of the recent hit science fiction epic Singularity Sky, has been spending an awful lot of time with one Matilda Weber, his costar in The King’s Man, a Revolutionary War romance currently filming. If rumours are to be believed, sparks are flying between the redcoat and the patriot both on and off set. Only time will tell if this is a work-place fling or something more.

Ben shut the lid of his laptop, leaning back in his seat and uttering an exasperated sigh. The media carousel was spinning again, it would seem. Harry had, at Ben’s own request, sent him a handful of quotes from magazines, blogs and online publications.

Since their first dinner date, Ben and Matilda had spent quite a bit of time together. She was by far the most interesting member of the cast and, though he knew several of the other actors from before and happily socialised with all of them, Matilda was the one he was most likely to seek out for a quick chat, a nice meal or a relaxing evening of red wine and company. Several photos had made their way out onto the Internet (a few of them from his and Matilda’s own Twitters), and it hadn’t taken long before people had begun to theorise.

Ben didn’t, as a rule, pay attention to the press. He didn’t google himself, didn’t read tabloids, gossip magazines or fan blogs, didn’t watch his own appearances in chat shows, hardly even read interviews with himself after they had been published. He deigned to read reviews of plays and films he appeared in sometimes, but nothing more. That was what he had Harry for. When Matilda had shown up on set that morning, however, laughingly telling him how her father had called her and asked when he would get to meet her new boyfriend, Ben had decided it might be time to find out what exactly was being written about them.

‘I had to explain to him that I don’t have a boyfriend, and that if he wants to know what I’m up to he should ask me and not believe everything he reads in the papers,’ Matilda had told him. ‘Poor dad . . . He said you looked like such a nice young man . . .’

Ben was beginning to rue his curiosity. The Internet was a terrifying place.

Filming was almost complete. They were back in Hollywood, now, wrapping up some left-over scenes and redoing some footage the director wasn’t happy with, after a couple of weeks on location shooting battle scenes and the like. During this time, Ben had hardly seen Matilda, since she wasn’t in those parts of the film, and he had found that he had missed her. He wondered what it would be like to return to London and not see her until it was time to start promoting the film the following spring. It would be a loss. She was a singular character.

Not that the prospect of leaving her behind was anything at all to the joy of returning home and seeing Mark. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to hold Mark in his arms again.

Soon.

Ben refreshed his e-mail client. Mark still hadn’t send him an e-mail that day. He supposed he must be busy.

* * *

It wasn’t until the third day of radio silence that the nagging feeling in the back of Ben’s mind turned into full-blown worry. He had continued to write e-mails as usual, every evening before he went to bed, but Mark had not replied to them. When he was working, it was easy to ignore the worry, but when he got back to his hotel room in the evening it became too hard to bare.

Ben lay on his bed in the dark, fully dressed, and stared at the ceiling. His day had not gone very well. He had had a hard time concentrating during filming that day and had ended up leaving early with the excuse that he wasn’t feeling well. When he had got home, he had been shaking, which was why he had drawn the curtains and lain down in the dark.

He was worried. Officially. Really, really, properly worried, and it was eating at his insides like a persistent tapeworm, gobbling up his restraint. He had made a promise not to call, not to talk to Mark directly, because it would be too painful, but he was unsure of how long he could keep that promise.

It was times like these that he wished he had someone to really talk to. He had, many times in the past few weeks, debated whether he should tell Matilda the truth, if only for that reason. There was always Alice, but while he liked her immensely, ultimately she was still his assistant and not his friend.

Texting was not calling. He picked up his mobile and wrote, Please just tell me you’re all right. Then he sent it off to Mark, hoping against hope for some life sign.

Had something happened? Could Mark be hurt somehow? The thought put a sick feeling in Ben’s stomach and a bad taste in his mouth. Few things were quite as terrifying to him as that. Or was it that Mark simply didn’t want to speak to him? Was he angry for something? Had he decided that the long distance thing wasn’t worth it, and moved on? Was there someone else?

Ben spent a sleepless night turning the possibilities over and over in his head. He must have fallen asleep at some point, however, because when he opened his eyes sunlight was streaming into the room through the gap in his blinds. Ben sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and for a full minute he couldn’t remember why he felt so distraught.

Then it came flooding back, and he grasped frantically for his mobile.

He had received no reply to his text, and fell back against the pillows with a sigh.

Ben turned over on his side, and pressed his mobile to his chest. He didn’t want to go to work. He felt flat, empty. He wanted to simply wallow in his misery, watch crap TV and eat crisps all day. It had been years since he had had a day like that. But he had a scene to finish that morning, and lunch with Charlie Hunnam later. Staying in bed just wasn’t an option.

* * *

‘Here’s your coffee.’ Alice handed him a large cup of Starbucks, which he accepted. ‘Ben, are you okay?’

‘Hm?’ Ben looked up her and smiled. ‘Oh. No, I’m fine.’

‘You don’t look it. Did something happen?’ She cocked her head to one side, eyes narrow.

Ben hesitated. ‘I . . . just didn’t sleep very well, that’s all.’

‘So, this is nothing to do with Mark, then?’ she asked quietly, sitting down in the chair next to his.

Ben looked away from her. He took a sip of his coffee. ‘It’s nothing. It’s probably nothing, I just . . .’ He sighed. ‘I haven’t heard from him in a couple of days, that’s all.’

‘Have you tried calling?’

Ben shook his head. ‘We decided not to do that, remember?’ He threw his head back. ‘I don’t know . . . Do you think I should?’

Alice elevated an eyebrow. ‘You’re asking me for relationship advice? You do realise that I haven’t had a real boyfriend in going on three years, right?’

‘That’s better than me . . . I haven’t had a boyfriend, ever.’

Alice smiled. ‘I’m sure he’s all right. But if you’re really worried, just call him. You must be allowed to do that much if he’s not replying to your e-mails or your texts.’

‘What time is it in London now?’ asked Ben.

Alice consulted her watch. ‘About eight in the evening,’ she said. ‘But you’ve got lunch to get ready for, remember?’

Ben looked at her. ‘Can you see if Charlie can reschedule, please?’

She shook her head. ‘You know, a year ago I would have told you to call him yourself, but I guess this is my job now . . .’ She smirked. ‘Go. Call Mark.’

Ben set off down the corridor until he found a quiet spot and pulled out his mobile.

This felt so familiar. The worry, the fear . . . Hadn’t be been here before? What if Mark had done something really stupid again?

The phone rang and went to voicemail. He tried again. Still voicemail. Again. Again.

He lowered the mobile from his ear in defeat, staring at the screen. Perhaps cancelling lunch had been premature. Not that he would have been very good company in his current state, of course.

One more time. He would try just one more time and then he would graciously give up.

‘Hello?’ Mark’s voice sounded tired and flat.

‘Mark!’ Ben blurted, heart pounding in his chest. ‘Oh, my God, it’s so good to hear your voice . . . Are you all right? Why haven’t you been replying to my e-mails?’

Mark was quiet for a long moment. Ben waited in nervous silence.

‘Mark?’

‘Yeah . . .’ He heard Mark take a breath. A faint rustle, of cloth perhaps. ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry, I . . .’ Then he sobbed, and Ben’s heart nearly broke in two.

‘What’s wrong? Has something happened?’

‘No . . . No, nothing’s happened, I just . . . I miss you so much! And I thought I could handle this, but I just, I can’t and . . . God, Ben . . .’

Ben felt helpless. Useless. Mark was in pain, something was very very wrong, and Ben could do nothing. He couldn’t hold him or kiss him or make him feel better. He was halfway around the world.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘Mark, I’m so sorry, I—’

‘It’s not your fault, you have nothing to feel sorry for,’ said Mark, sniffing. ‘I wanted to be able to handle this, to . . . And I was doing all right. I was. And then a couple of days ago it was like something just . . . cracked. And there were pictures all over the Internet of you and her and I—’

‘Mark, I promise, there’s nothing—’

‘I know. I know there’s nothing between you. I know that. I guess it all just . . . It became too much. I . . . I sort of have a history with depression and anxiety, you know? I haven’t . . . I haven’t been out of the house in like three days. I’ve barely been out of bed. I just woke up one day and didn’t want to get up . . .’

Ben took a deep breath. He wanted to do something. Cry. Scream. Hug his boyfriend. But all he could do was stand there, phone pressed tightly to his ear, holding back his tears. ‘I wish I could come home right now,’ he whispered. ‘I wish I could just board the next flight to Heathrow and come home and hold you and take care of you, but I . . . There’s only a little more than a week left of filming. Just nine days. And if I came home now I’d have to go back and finish them anyway and—’

‘I know you can’t come home. That’s why I haven’t written to you . . . I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want you to worry.’

Ben almost laughed at that. Almost. ‘You know, you can be so very stupid,’ he said softly. ‘I mean, a real fucking idiot, you know? You didn’t want me to worry?’ He allowed himself a small chuckle. ‘Do me a favour and don’t ever try to spare my feelings again, okay? I haven’t been able to sleep, thinking you’d decided to leave me, or that you were hurt. You know, I actually care about you, so . . . When you feel like this, please tell me. I can’t do anything to help you if you don’t tell me, and I won’t worry any less if you don’t talk to me at all.’

There was a brief silence. Then Mark pulled a shuddering breath and sighed. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay. Now, here’s what you should do, all right? You call that wonderful mother of yours who you say is always so supportive, and you tell her that you’re not doing so well and ask if you can come home until you’re feeling better, so you don’t have to be alone.’ He paused. ‘You won’t feel any better from being alone. Trust me.’

‘What are you, my dad?’ said Mark weakly.

‘God, that would be very wrong, wouldn’t it?’ Ben smiled. ‘Look, I just don’t want you to sit alone in your flat and stew. You don’t have to take my advice, but I honestly, really think you’ll feel better. And I know you said you didn’t want to talk like this, that it would make things worse, but if you need to, please just call. I don’t want you to ever be in pain. All right?’

‘Yeah. All right.’

‘Take care of yourself. Take care of your heart. It’s very precious to me. I miss you.’

‘I miss you so much . . .’

‘Talk to you soon?’

‘Yeah.’

There were three little words waiting on Ben’s lips, then. He wanted badly to say them, but for whatever reason he just couldn’t bring himself to. So instead he said, ‘Goodbye,’ and hung up.

* * *

When he returned to his hotel-room that night and logged into his e-mail account there was an e-mail from Mark waiting for him.

Ben,

I took your advice and am now at my mum’s. She came and picked me up in a cab.

I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you, that I didn’t reply to your e-mails or your text. I just couldn’t deal. I felt so lost and sad and alone without you and it all crashed down on me at once. I know what you’re like. I know what you’ll be thinking just now, and you can just stop thinking it right away. I would not be any better off if we weren’t together. I want to be with you. I need to be.

I know that being apart is just a matter of fact for this relationship. I’ll learn to deal with it better. I promise. I’m in love with you. When you come back home, I’m gonna show you just how much. You’re a beautiful person. I miss you so fucking much that I can barely stand it, but I’m okay. I mean, I will be okay. I’ll see you when you get home, and I’ll take care of you. We’ll be together.

Yours forever (at least in the sense of the foreseeable future),

Mark Xx

Ben smiled. Mark really did know him. When had that happened? At some point, between awkward texts and amazing sex, Mark had become so much more than just a lover. He had become his best friend. He knew what Ben was thinking without even looking at him. He understood him in a way that he wasn’t sure anyone ever had before.

Maybe, just maybe, they could still pull this off.

* * *

The clear chink of crystal champagne glasses filled the room as they toasted the completion of filming.

In less than twelve hours, Ben would be on a flight home, and only four days after returning he was to attend the first read-through of the scripts for the new series of Hathaway. Still, London and British crime television felt so far away just then, with a warm breeze and the smells and sounds of the California night wafting in through the open balcony doors.

They had filmed his last scene just that day. As was often the case, it had been a short and simple scene, just a moment, really, where he sat at a writing desk composing a letter with a feather quill. Mundane, unemotional, nothing special at all. But when it was finished, Ben had smiled and bowed as the crew (and most of the cast who had come to watch) had applauded him. He had felt very moved.

He still felt it, and raised his glass in their honour. ‘To all of you wonderful people!’ he boomed. ‘Thank you all so, so much for the time we’ve had together!’ His words resulted in fresh applause, and soon several of his costars were queueing up to hug him.

Matilda was the last of them, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. ‘Oh, I’m gonna miss you!’ she mumbled into his shoulder.

‘I’ll miss you too,’ said Ben earnestly. ‘I’m not leaving yet, though, we still have a whole party ahead of us, you know!’

She pulled back and grinned at him. ‘I know. Let’s go outside!’ She took his hand and dragged him out onto the balcony.

It was no cooler outside than in, but it was pleasantly quiet out there. Palm leaves swayed lazily in the wind. They stood by the balcony railings, gazing out over the lights of West Hollywood.

‘So, are you gonna tell me or not?’

Ben glanced at her, quirking an eyebrow in question. ‘Tell you what?’

‘Don’t play dumb!’ She poked his upper arm with a long finger. ‘As your beard, I feel like I have a right to know.’

Ben chuckled. ‘Ah, you mean that whole business. . .’

‘You haven’t denied the rumours about us. I assume there’s some reason for that.’

‘I, or should I say my publicist and I, haven’t addressed those rumours because it’s a non-issue until they start out-right fabricating their stories.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’re right, though, you have effectively been my “beard” for these past few weeks.’

Matilda looked up at him with a smirk. ‘Like I said. So, let’s hear it. You’re leaving tomorrow, what’s the point in keeping it from me anymore?’ She pouted. ‘Don’t you like me?’

Ben shook his head. ‘Nu-uh. I refuse to negotiate with terrorists and guilt-trippers!’ Matilda just laughed. He sighed. ‘All right, have it your way. . .’ He paused, gathering his thoughts. ‘Yes, I’m seeing a man.’

‘Haha, I knew it!’ Matilda grinned wider than was decent. ‘Is he hot?’

‘Oh, God, yes,’ said Ben. ‘You have no idea! Sometimes I wonder what the hell he sees in me, he could have anyone he wants. Sexy, gorgeous, marvellous in bed. . . I’m quite soppy about him, and I flatter myself that he feels the same way about me. Why, I couldn’t tell you.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Mark.’ Saying the name out loud sent a small jolt through Ben’s stomach. ‘He’s a lot younger than I am, which I was quite uncertain about to begin with. . . But he shows wisdom beyond his years, one might say. He brings out all the best in me. Makes me relax, open up, lets me be a bit reckless. . . With him it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, and I don’t have to worry about my career or the press or whether my next film will be any good. All I have to think about is us.’ He felt his face turn slightly warm, and blessed the darkness surrounding them.

‘He sounds perfect,’ said Matilda softly. ‘I’m happy for you.’

‘Thank you.’ Ben put an arm around her shoulder in a one-armed hug. ‘I will miss you, though, you know.’

‘Well, maybe one day I’ll find an awesome boyfriend, too . . .’

Ben smiled, stroking her shoulder with his thumb. ‘When you do, tell him from me if he ever hurts you I’ll fly over from England in person just to kick his arse.’

‘Thanks, but I’m perfectly capable of doing my own ass-kicking.’

‘Oh, no doubt. But just in case you’d like some back-up.’

‘You bet. If he manages to overpower both myself and my three big brothers, you’ll be the first person I call.’

‘Pish posh! I’m just as macho as they are.’

‘No you’re not. You say things like “pish posh”.’

Ben laughed. He let go of her and drained his glass of Moët & Chandon. ‘Good luck with it.’

‘You too.’ Matilda took his hand in hers again. ‘Be happy.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘I shall endeavour to do my best.’