Nemesis: Soulmates Never Die - 17. Chapter Seventeen: Broken Promise

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Broken Promise

Nick stared up at the clear blue May sky. He lay on his back on the green next to the oak tree. His blue Ibanez lay in the grass next to him. It was a beautiful warm day, far too nice for sitting inside a practice room when the sun was shining down outside.

Not that he could focus anyway, though. Since he and Dave made up, everything had been lovely. They had spent the Easter break being together almost all the time. It had been enough that Nick had been able to not think about everything that had happened the year before, but something had to fill the space in his brain. Every time he looked at Dave he felt the guilt clench around his heart.

He had never thought he’d be in this situation. He’d always believed himself to be the last person in the world who would cheat on anyone. Truth be told, he had imagined that Dave would cheat on him long before he ever even thought of cheating on Dave.

What was worse was that he had received a couple of texts from Brian. Nothing explicit, or even more than vaguely flirty, but it was enough to make him uneasy. He had replied in as dry and professional tones he could muster without seeming rude, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about any of it.

He sat up and picked up the Ibanez, and began practicing a melody he had thought of the other day. Perhaps it could become a song about his guilt. Maybe that was how he would tell Dave what had happened. But not until after his exams. If he was going to fuck up everything else, he would not fuck that up.

* * *

‘Are you studying hard?’ Dave’s father looked down at him with a disapproving expression. Dave had to prevent himself from rolling his eyes.

‘Yes, sir,’ he said instead.

His father made a sort of grunt of acknowledgement, picked up the newspaper and his cup of tea and walked out of the kitchen in the direction of his study.

‘He only wants you to be your best, you know,’ said Dave’s mother, who was spreading jam over her toast. She did not look at him as she spoke.

‘Yeah. Of course he does,’ said Dave, not without a hint of irony. He picked up his empty cereal bowl and carried it to the sink to rinse it.

‘He does,’ his mother insisted. ‘As do I.’

Dave put the bowl in the dishwasher and, taking a glass from the cabinet, went over to the fridge to fill it with orange juice.

‘David.’

He turned around to face his mother. She looked at him with sincere blue eyes.

‘Please sit down.’

Shrugging, Dave returned to his seat. He took a sip of his orange juice and looked at her questioningly.

‘Are you all right?’

Dave almost did a spit-take at that. He wasn’t sure when his mother had last inquired after his wellbeing beyond the purely physical, and here she was sitting now, eyes full of sincerity, asking him if he was all right.

‘Er, yeah,’ he said slowly. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I am your mother,’ she said. ‘I am capable of recognising your emotional states. You seem a bit distracted lately. I’m worried.’

Dave scoffed and looked away. ‘Since when do you take an interest?’

‘You’re my son,’ she said simply. ‘I may not always show it, but I’m always interested.’

He looked at her again. His mother’s sudden concern was surprising, and more than a little confusing. ‘I’m okay,’ he said at last. ‘I mean, I have a heavy work load right now. Preparing for exams and all that . . . And . . .’ He bit his lip.

‘And?’ she prompted.

‘And it’s hard not being able to see Nick so often.’

She nodded, slowly. ‘How—’ She cut herself off and looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘How are things, between you?’

Dave uttered a breathless, incredulous laugh. ‘I can’t believe you’re actually asking me about my relationship.’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ He was about to respond, but she continued, ‘No, you’re right. But, David, when I said that I didn’t want you to be—’

‘A bender?’ Dave suggested. ‘Shirt lifter? Bum pirate? Homosexual? Queer?’

‘Yes. Enough. When I said that, it wasn’t because I have anything against . . . I mean, I don’t care who you love, I—I want you to be happy. But I thought that the world around you wouldn’t accept you. I thought that you would be laughed at, and I worried for you and your reputation, and this family’s reputation. You must understand that your father’s family has lived here, in this house, for over a century. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I thought people would talk. But they haven’t. Have they? Nobody treated you any differently. Nobody treated me any differently either. I think I was wrong. I don’t even know how long you’ve been together, I don’t know when it started, but it’s been a good while and you seem to care for him. What you did for him, in giving evidence against that man . . . That was brave and good of you, and I was proud.’

A long silence followed, during which Dave looked at his mother with his head cocked to one side. He wasn’t certain he’d heard her right, or perhaps she was having him on, but she looked dead serious.

‘So, how are things,’ she continued, ‘between you and your boyfriend?’

Dave pulled in a sharp breath of air, shrugged, and drank several long draughts of his juice before he answered, ‘Er, it’s okay, I think. We had a fight a few weeks ago, but it’s all sorted now. He’s seemed a bit . . . distant lately, though. But we’re both busy with our studies and everything, so it’s not so strange, I suppose.’

His mother smiled at him. ‘I’m sure that’s all it is. Are you happy?’

Dave nodded. ‘Yeah. I am.’

‘Good. Then I’m happy too.’

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Nick got this creeping, apprehensive feeling in his stomach that he seemed to get every time he saw Dave these days, as he walked to the front door to open it. His boyfriend stepped inside with a bright smile and pulled him into a hug.

‘Oh, I missed you,’ Dave murmured. ‘I’m so glad it’s the weekend. Wish it would never end . . .’

Nick returned the hug and allowed himself to breathe in Dave’s scent. Head & Shoulders shampoo. Soap. Sporty, masculine deodorant. And just a tiny hint of sweat. Not old sweat, just clean boy sweat. And then that sweet something that he’d always identified as uniquely Dave.

As they pulled away from each other and went into the sitting room, he mused that it was kind of like having a death sentence, or knowing you’re ill and only having a couple of months to live. Everything had become very important. Every scent, every look, every strand of hair. It was important because every time might be the last time he was permitted to be this close. When the truth came out, that would be that. He’d find himself often not paying attention to what Dave was saying simply because he was too busy counting his eyelashes, or memorising the pattern of the birth marks on his throat, or just watching the curve of his lips as he spoke.

Such as now.

‘Oi, are you listening to me?’

Nick shook himself. ‘Sorry. Yes. No. I was thinking about something else. What were you saying?’

‘My mum basically sat me down and wanted to talk to me about my life, and about you and me and all kinds of stuff.’

‘What, really?’ Nick raised both eyebrows in surprise.

‘She said that she was scared of what being with you would do to my reputation, and the reputation of the family, but now she’s realised that it hasn’t really changed anything. And she just wants me to be my best, and be happy. I don’t think I’ve had a conversation that frank with one of my parents since I was a kid.’ He leaned back in his seat and smiled faintly. ‘You know, when I was little my mum would talk to me all the time. And play with me and hug me and all. My dad put a stop to it. He thought her mollycoddling would damage my masculinity or something. When I cried, he told me to stop, because boys don’t cry. By the time I reached school age, my mum had basically stopped hugging me at all.

‘I think that’s why Alan and I became such good friends. Cause we’re very different, and we were, even back then, but we both came from families where we were forced to be men when we were really just boys. So we looked out for each other. Because nobody else did.’

Hearing Dave talk about his childhood always broke Nick’s heart a little bit. Not that his own had been so very blessed, but before his dad left, his mother had been a good mother, and he had always had Zoë to look after him.

‘You must have felt so alone,’ he said. And then he realised that Dave wasn’t the only person he’d lose once he told the truth. Alan—loyal, stalwart Alan—would never want to speak to him again. Mel probably wouldn’t either. He would never again see his oldest friend, or in any case the oldest he had any contact with. Alan might stop coming to The Oxymorons’ gigs, things would get awkward with Matt. Chas would still be Chas, but he would be upset with Nick as well. Only Stuart would remain his friend in the same way he was now, and the only reason Nick was sure that would be the case was that Stuart cared about him and not about Dave, and that was the way his brain worked. Regardless, this dream that he had lived for the past year, the one where he had friends to hang out with and a boyfriend to hold hands with in public, would be over.

Dave shrugged. ‘It was all right. I had Alan. And I had Mellie when she came to visit. I wasn’t mistreated or anything like that. I was fine.’

‘Still.’ Nick rested his head on Dave’s shoulder, and Dave put his arms around him, pulling him against his chest.

‘You’re always so mindful of people’s feelings,’ he murmured. ‘Never callous, or resentful . . . You just listen and understand and empathise. That’s part of what I love about you.’

Nick buried his face in Dave’s shirt and wanted to cry.

The sex that night felt desperate. They hadn’t had much of it in a while, and Dave had to tell Nick to slow down several times. When Dave was finally inside him, Nick actually did cry. Dave noticed and asked if he was all right, if he should stop, and Nick just shook his head wildly and pulled him down to kiss him.

It wasn’t the last time. Not quite. But it could have been.