Rhapsody on a Theme (5 page)

“If I could purr, I would.”

“Mm.” Jayden smiled, and Darren kissed the top of his shoulder. “You know what? We should take a holiday.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere sunny and hot and everything. Next Christmas.”

“Why?”

“I want to see you freckle,” Jayden admitted. Darren freckled a little in British summers, but there were pictures of him on Facebook in China and America and South Africa and all these other places as a teenager with his family, and he had
outbreaks
of them.

“That’s only because you have some weird kinks.”

“I do not.”

“Excuse me, Mr. My-Boyfriend’s-Eyesight-Sucks-And-That’s-Awesome.”

“That
is
awesome,” Jayden said, running a finger along the cool leg of the glasses. “You look sexy with glasses. Sexier.”

“Once, you were virginal.”

“Once, you were nice to me about that,” Jayden parried, pouring out the boiled water.

“You’re still kind of prudish, you know.”

“I am not.”

“Please. You still object to me sleeping naked.”

“Because maybe I don’t want to wake up to being hugged to death, or worse.”

“Hugged to worse?”

“Oh, shut up,” Jayden sniped, prising himself free and pushing one of the mugs into Darren’s hands. “You know what I mean.”

“I know you’re a prude.”

Jayden huffed and kissed him sharply before retreating to the living room. It was a bit squashed, all things considered: an old upright piano that Rachel had bought off their previous landlady was jammed into the corner and the top of it used as a shelf. The stairs rose out of the living room too, hanging over the sofa threateningly, and the TV was wedged between the back door and the flat-pack bookshelf that Darren had constructed from Japanese instructions. Somehow it had worked.

“I don’t know why I love you,” Jayden muttered snottily, curling up on the sofa. Darren grinned, sitting on the floor in front of him and dropping his head back against the seat cushion to eye him almost upside-down.

“Because I played the violin in your mad production,” Darren said. Jayden flushed and regretted ever telling him when
exactly
it had happened. “I’m just in it for the twice-weekly sex life we got going here.”

“You’ve had your twice this week.”

“Yeah, but it’s Sunday. Restarts at midnight.” Darren grinned.

“Not if you’re going to say things like that it doesn’t,” Jayden said tartly. He put his mug on the floor and leaned forward to wrap his arms around Darren’s neck and kiss his forehead. “You love me.”

“We-ell.”

“You do. You love me more than anything,” Jayden insisted, turning Darren’s head forcibly and kissing the bridge of his nose. His elbow cupped around the back of Darren’s skull, and the victim twisted into the movement, abandoning his own tea in favour of not wrenching something important in his spine.

“I
like
you?”

“You
love
me,” Jayden insisted, kissing those springy curls and tugging until Darren twisted around to face him properly. “You do,” he murmured, kissing that mouth the second it was within reach, and Darren stroked a single finger down the shell of Jayden’s ear.

“Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe,” Jayden murmured, pressing fleeting, open kisses to Darren’s jaw and mouth. “Not even a probably. You
do
.”

“Okay,” Darren ceded lowly, wrapping an arm over Jayden’s chest to press him back into the cushions and kiss him soundly. “Okay, I love you,” he whispered into the lack of space between them, and smiled into the kiss. “A bit.”

Jayden tugged on a handful of curls, but didn’t break the kiss.

* * * *

Rachel came home at four; Jayden was woken from a light doze by her keys in the front door, and Darren grumbled incoherently as she meandered past, wished Jayden a belated Merry Christmas, and kicked his boyfriend.

“Hey!” Jayden protested. Darren merely made a rumbling sound, like an angry cat. Jayden blinked at him, and Rachel snorted.

“He’s in the way!” she defended herself, pulling an innocent face, and took her shopping bag into the kitchen. “How was your mum’s house?”

“Busy,” Jayden said, “but it was good. Your sister’s?”

“Oh God, she’s only fucking pregnant,” Rachel complained loudly, banging the kitchen cupboard above the toaster. Jayden listened intently and relaxed again when he heard her pop the padlock back on. “Everyone’s been asking me when I’m going to find a nice guy and have a baby too; it
sucked
.”

Jayden called a vague response, settling back into his dozing position and stroking a thumb over Darren’s collarbone lightly. Darren ignored him, watching the telly, and Jayden let him alone. He felt warm and tired, contented and right where he was supposed to be, in their squashed little house with Rachel banging around in the kitchen and Darren watching the football results with rapt attention.

Rachel eventually returned with a cup of tea and an aspirin; Jayden raised his eyebrows, and she said, “I locked the cupboard, fussy, it’s fine.”

Darren grumbled something, but they both ignored him. It was a rule in their house: all medication was locked away in a cupboard to which Darren wasn’t allowed a key. All but a week’s worth of Darren’s painkillers for his shoulder were left out. Just in
case
, you know? Thankfully, Darren actually hadn’t taken the decision too badly, although he had been a bit belligerent about it when he was first put on the antidepressants, the citalopram, but…but in the wake of
that
fiasco, Jayden was so, so glad they’d taken that step.

If they hadn’t…

They had a number of steps like it. No alcohol kept in the house, no medication left out or in the bathroom cabinet. Jayden would never admit to it on pain of death or dumping, but he checked the kitchen knives regularly in case any disappeared or randomly got cleaned, and the same for the razors in the bathroom. He
openly
checked Darren’s arms, all the time, and Darren’s reaction could be anything from frustrated anger to more-or-less ignoring him and letting him have his way. And Jayden
wanted
to trust him, but Darren in the grip of a bad spell just
couldn’t
be trusted, and the medication failure had proved that. If they'd had it just lying around, then…then maybe that time…

The thought made Jayden loop an arm back over Darren’s shoulder and hug him briefly, shifting forward enough to kiss the back of his head. Darren mumbled a vague greeting, or something like it, but generally ignored the attention again, and Rachel rolled her eyes at them.

“You’re both disgusting,” she opined and frowned. “When are
you
having babies?”

“When one of us gets pregnant, you’ll be the first to know,” Darren muttered, still watching the telly intensely. Jayden began to suspect he had a bet on with Paul or something.

“I like to think the doctor would be the first to know,” he said.

“No, because frankly, if either of us need a pregnancy test kit,
she’s
buying it,” Darren pointed out, and Jayden shrugged.

“Okay, that seems fair.”

“Can I be a godmother?” Rachel piped up again, settling deeply into the armchair.

“No,” Darren said.

“Why?”

“You might make our baby asexual.”

Rachel bristled. “
So
?”

“
So
, if I’m going to have kids, I’m also going to have
grandkids
to get back at my kids,” Darren retorted, and Jayden laughed. “I am willing to negotiate and name one Rachel after you. Or Twiggy.”

“I’m not having a kid called Twiggy,” Jayden objected as Rachel hit Darren with a cushion.

“Fine, then I’m breaking up with you.”

“Yeah, okay then,” Jayden said, kissing the crown of his head and pushing Rachel’s cushion away. “Stop murdering my boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend, you heard him!” Rachel insisted. “And I’m not
twiggy
! I put on weight over Christmas!”

“Where?”

“On my boobs, look.”

“No!” Jayden cried, covering Darren’s eyes. “He’s bisexual! He might be turned!”

“It’s not turning if he’s
already
bisexual,” Rachel sniped.

“You’re both freaks,” Darren said, and she launched out of the armchair to attack him; Jayden dodged out of the tangle, climbing off the sofa entirely and perching safely on the stairs, out of reach for the moment.

“Don’t bruise him too hard, he goes back to work tomorrow,” he said. “They might ask questions.”

“Doubt it,” Darren grumbled, escaping from her assault and sitting on the piano stool to massage his shoulder with one hand. “Some of the day shift wouldn’t notice if you came in with your head cut off.” His phone beeped on the sofa, and he eyed Rachel warily. “Jayden? Little help here?”

“All right, all right,” Jayden muttered, climbing down and snatching it up.
Oi frizzy wat u up too???
“It’s Paul.”

“What’s he want?”

“Asking what you’re up to.”

“Being murdered.”

He’s fine
, Jayden replied.
Rachel’s attacking him.

hi jade!
Jayden scowled at the nickname.
i gots news for u bitchez!

“What’s he say?” Darren asked.

“He has news.”

“What news?”

Jayden dutifully asked.

And nearly dropped the phone.

“Holy
shit
,” he said.

“What?”

“Ethan.”

“What about Ethan?”

Jayden reread the text, asked if Paul were kidding, and was told it was
totes legit!

“Jayden?”

“He’s getting
married
.”

Their bedroom was up in the eaves: a wrought-iron double bed with a sinfully thick mattress under one skylight, and a second-hand, stupidly big TV pilfered from Darren’s parents’ divorce under the other. Darren was usually a fairly moral, ethical person, but when it came to pinching electronics from his warring parents, all that went out of the window. Jayden wasn’t complaining. It meant epic evening telly, and when Darren got bored, epic background noise for sex. (The
Lord of the Rings
theme had become an erotic composition in Jayden’s head because of Darren’s low boredom threshold. Watching
The Hobbit
films in the cinema had been
unbearable
.)

When Darren’s mobile rang on the side that evening, Jayden had just settled in to watch one of his favourite films, and he flung an arm out blindly to fumble for it, presuming—correctly—that it wasn’t anyone vitally important or unknown to him.

“Hello?”

“Jade!”

“Oh. Hi Paul.”

“Well, don’t sound too enthusiastic, mate. Where’s Daz?”

“Bathroom,” Jayden said. “Oh, wait, no, he’s just coming up.” There were heavy steps on the landing, far too heavy for Rachel, and then the creak of the bottom step up to the attic. “Darren!” he called. “It’s Paul.”

Darren appeared in his pyjama bottoms, towelling his hair dry. He dropped onto the end of the bed and Jayden put Paul on speakerphone and paused the DVD.

“C’mere,” he said and took over drying Darren’s soaked hair. It took ages if Darren did it, as he could only use one hand. His left shoulder didn’t let his hand get as high as his head without shaking so hard he dropped the towel.

“Are you two being disgusting?” Paul asked suspiciously.

“If you don’t want to hear it,
why
are you calling at twenty past ten?” Darren asked.

“
Are
you?”

“What do you want?”

“What do you think I want?” Paul scoffed.

“So who’s he even
marrying
?” Darren demanded. “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend!”

“Or a boyfriend,” Jayden opined primly, smoothing out a few curls and reaching for a comb.

“Nah, it’s a girlfriend. Met her once or twice—Lillian,” Paul supplied. “They only met in April.”

“
Jesus
,” Darren grumbled.

“You wouldn’t have wanted to marry me by Christmas?” Jayden asked, pulling on a damp curl.

“One, no. Two, the equivalent would be, like, March for us. And still no.”

“Dick.”

“If I wanted to marry you, I’d have asked,” Darren sniped, pinching his thigh.

“Do you two
ever
stop flirting?” Paul complained.

“Sometimes, but not when you’re around,” Darren said. “It’s even better because then we get to watch your complaining too. So Lillian—what’s she like?”

“Er.”

“Er?”

“Not his usual type,” Paul said carefully.

“This I have to see,” Darren said, grinning. Jayden rolled his eyes and continued trying to tame that hair.

“Yeah, well, you will. Ethan wants you in on this wedding do, like with a role. Said he’d have to ask for your input on something. Dunno what yet, but he’ll be in touch when she’s stopped shagging him in thanks for the ring.”

“And you call us disgusting?” Darren demanded.

“You are,” Paul parried. “Basically he met this girl, went completely gaga for her over the summer, and then came for our usual beer-and-bangers Christmas lunch together in Soho and out and said he was engaged. Apparently popped the question at her mother’s house on Christmas Eve.”

“Well, I suppose he’s
met
her parents…”

“I know, I know, I don’t know what to say either,” Paul said. “But, I don’t know. She’s not like Ethan’s usual air-headed bird. Seems all right, this one. Smart enough, runs her own business. Ugly as the back end of a bus.”

“What?” Jayden said. Ethan’s ‘type’ was pretty, according to his sniping at school—not that Jayden had ever met any of Ethan’s girlfriends, but he talked about girls a lot, and—well. He didn’t even like girls with a bit of extra leg hair. Apparently.

“Yep,” Paul said. “Makes your face look fucking gorgeous, Daz.”

“It
is
gorgeous,” Jayden countered snottily.