And Something Starts All Over
'I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme,
and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change,
taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.'
― Gilda Radner.
Prologue
It was a Tuesday. Just another in that long, Mancunian summer. But in amidst the damp, puddled tarmac of the city, everything had changed. It wasn’t just another Tuesday anymore and he came to loath the rain more than ever.
“Jay.” He hardly noticed himself say it. Whispered. Neither as hopeful nor as terrified as he expected it to sound. Resigned. Uncertain, perhaps. It wasn’t far from here that they’d kissed that first time. He remembered, of course. Had never forgotten and could never forget. It had been raining then too.
Slowly Howard knelt down, ignoring the people standing frozen on the pavement, their mouths open. His blue eyes were carefully trained, studying that face. That familiar face. There were cuts on his cheeks and glass on the ground. It was only the cuts Howard paid any mind, they were the only disturbance to that otherwise peaceful expression. He touched a tentative finger to one, wincing as he felt Jason’s blood against his skin. His hand fell limply against Jason’s neck, still warm despite the coolness of the tarmac beneath. He sniffed hard and closed his eyes briefly, barely realising he was crying until he tasted salt, mingling with rain on his lips. When he opened his eyes again, Justin’s face – blurry and strained – came into his view and his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body clenched. Broken but defensive all the same. Even when he had nothing else left, he would have that need to defend him, because no one else ever seemed to bother. He’d always thought it was so wrong of them not to bother. One hand clasped protectively at Jason’s sleeve and Justin came no closer.
“Howard...” he tried, but, even if he had known what else to say to him, Howard wasn’t listening.
“Go away. Just go away. Now.” If he repeated it enough times it might work. It might work so well that the past two days – no, further back than that – might fade out too, might recede in the face of his anger, his fear. Go. Away.
Jason stirred. Slightly, briefly. Fingers moving, brushing Howard’s. Howard clasped his hand in return and swallowed hard. He just had to be strong and patient and brave and all those other clichés. He just had to ignore the voice he could hear, whispering in between the beats of the raindrops still falling down on his head. Haven’t you been here before?
More people were stopping, looking, not that Howard had noticed. He bent and pressed a kiss to Jason’s forehead – his unscathed forehead – and he murmured things that he hoped were true, though he was careful not to make any promises he couldn’t keep.
Pitter-pat. But you know this story. Pitter-pat. Do you really want to hear it again? Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, pitter-pat.
Chapter One: Sunday
“Hey, Jay, you reckon you could hold the fort here alone for a few days next week?” Jason was sitting, folded up on the armchair in the corner of the piano room, a book open in his lap and a mug of camomile tea going cold on the floor beside him. He closed his book and chuckled, looking up at Gary with a glint in his eyes. It was a typical summer Sunday, quiet and uneventful, and Jason, Gary and Mark had only staggered as far as the shop for the sake of enjoying the first day of sunshine in over a week. Manchester’s usually stubborn clouds had lifted overnight and by the time dawn had broken over the city the day had been almost recognisable as belonging to late July.
“Hmm, I reckon I’d just about survive it...but if there was a rush on clarinets I would probably have to call you to help me prevent disaster. Why, you and Mark going somewhere?” Jason asked, stretching his lean body out. Gary didn’t know whether to be envious or worried at the flash of concave stomach revealed as Jason’s shirt rode up and he frowned slightly and looked away.
“Maybe. I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.” Jason raised an eyebrow at that, glancing up at Gary’s frown before pushing himself up in his seat.
“That sounded ominous, you willing to share?” he asked and Gary chuckled slightly, shaking his head and looking over at his friend, whose blue eyes were disarmingly gentle. Being an Agony Aunt to people was a skill that Gary suspected came from being one of the less-hysterical components of a large, hysterical family. Somewhere, Gary was sure, there was an Orange Family Crest beneath which swirling handwritten Latin decreed ‘Why have a drama when you could have a crisis?’. Gary rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a long sigh.
“Don’t you have problems of your own to fret about?” he joked, but, rather than laugh, Jason merely shrugged and leant back slightly, glancing up at the ceiling.
“Yes. But I usually find other people’s problems far less messy,” he remarked, flashing Gary a sad, wry smile then looking away again. If Gary hadn’t know him, he would’ve said the comment was a flippant one. But he knew him, and knew him well, and that made all the difference.
“Sometimes I worry about you, Jay,” Gary told him with a sigh, sitting himself down on a piano stool. Jason rolled his eyes and smiled, more brightly this time.
“You worry too much, Barlow, you know that?”
“Eh, I’ll have less of your cheek thank you very much. Especially since I have it on good authority that you worry too much too,” Gary chuckled and Jason smiled at him, something between amusement and fondness glittering brightly in his eyes.
“You and Howard really need to stop talking about me so much and get hobbies of your own.”
For a while the two men sat in silence, listening to the sound of Mark strumming on his guitar in the other room. After a week of sunshine in late June, excitement had zapped through the Manchester streets, sending a thrill of liveliness through almost everyone. Manchester hadn’t quite become a city that never slept, but it had at least briefly morphed into a city that stayed up past its usual bedtime. After all that energy had been expended it had been almost a relief when the clouds had returned, mellowing everyone out. Manchester all but dozed off, so much so that it had hardly noticed this rare, sunny July Sunday. Mark’s playing fed into the haziness. It was late-morning and it was warm and somehow it seemed inappropriate to be worried about anything in that moment. That moment. A moment Gary would look back on – in two, three, four days’ time – and think that that was how summers were supposed to be. Less rain, less broken glass.
“Do you think it was better, when it was just us four?” Gary asked suddenly and Jason glanced up at him, his lips curving up into a thoughtful smile.
“Sometimes, if I’m honest.”
“Just us three?” Gary grinned and Jason laughed, an honest-to-goodness laugh that made Gary feel a certain level of reflected contentedness.
“Sometimes, if I’m honest,” Jason repeated, a sly grin on his face. Gary smirked, shaking his head.
“Mm, I’ll believe that when I see it. You know, if it wasn’t for Howard I don’t know what...”
“No, I don’t know what either,” Jason cut him off quietly, looking down at his hands. Gary smiled.
“Four is a good number though, don’t you think?”
“Gaz, we’ve talked about this. I like four...I like five. I can be loyal to my husband to a point, but he understands why I disagree with him on this and he believes in the majority winning. So if it’s a serious debate you’re looking for, I’m not sure...”
“Don’t panic, this isn’t really about Rob. Well, no, it is about Rob, just not in the way you think. You know I like him being around. I mean it, I really do. I’m not looking for a way out, I promise, and if I was I wouldn’t use Dougie, I know how bad he feels about dampening our spirits anyway, without putting a change of plans on his shoulders. No. Rob and Mark’s history is...well, it’s history.” Gary glanced out to the shop-front. The large shop window let the sunlight in on such a scale that the entire front room was in silhouette against an indistinguishable backdrop of white-gold.
“So you’re not about to suggest a ceremonial burning of the pages upon pages of ideas he’s helped us with then? No smashing up of the CDs you had him sing on with us? No...well, you couldn’t really do much about the gig we played together...” Jason’s eyes were narrowed thoughtfully at Gary and it was difficult not to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny. The truth was he was probably more enthusiastic than the rest of them put together for the new group-of-five experience to continue; music was what Gary thrived on, he fed off it and, in many ways, he was an addict, always needing more than he could ever really get. Gary needed new experiences, projects, directions, he needed things to hold his interest, he needed ways to keep his dedication to what they were doing alive. As much as he loved their four-man-band, sometimes he worried that they’d done all they could together, achieved the only sound the four of them were capable of achieving alone. Robbie Williams, however, was something totally different. Explosive and moody and strangely profound, his very presence was inspiring to Gary in so many ways and, although it was Mark who had first turned to Robbie to help them finish off a couple of new songs, Gary was fascinated by the way the younger man’s mind worked. One music addict had instantly recognised the light of another and had latched onto it immediately, realising before the rest of the band that the atmosphere of a room – of a song – was very different with the five of them than it was with the four of them.
“Look, do you think you’ll manage to manage here for a few days or not?” Gary asked softly. Jason’s eyes remained on him for a few seconds as he considered the plea.
“You’re planning something.” It wasn’t a question.
“Maybe. Just please, Jay, can you do me this one favour?”
“Do you promise me this is something good? You’ve at least run this past Mark?” Jason’s voice was edged with concern. He would do anything for his friends, all he asked was that he was doing it for the right reasons.
“I’d never force any of you into anything, Jay, you know that.”
“Fine. But whatever you’re up to just...be careful, when you run it past Robbie, yeah? He...he feels too much sometimes, I think,” Jason replied and Gary smiled at him – a big smile that reached right out to the edges of his face.
“Cheers, Jay, you’re a mate.”
“I’m a pushover more like,” Jason grumbled good-naturedly.
Again the two men fell into a comfortable silence. Gary watched Jason tracing his finger along the spine of his book, eyes faraway. It was a sight he’d seen often enough, over the years, the sort of background scenery he took for granted. He opened his mouth, about to voice a more heartfelt thank you for that constant presence – that constant willingness to not ask more questions than necessary – when the shop’s bell broke through the peace. Gary couldn’t be sure whether Jason simply knew his husband’s footsteps or whether he’d developed a keen sixth-sense over the years, but either way, Jason was on his feet immediately.
“Morning, How – so, lie-in or meeting?” Mark was asking as Jason came through into the front room. Howard grinned shamelessly; he was, as usual, somewhat scruffy round the edges, his red t-shirt slightly crinkled, dark curls escaping from his hat, but his eyes were sparkly-bright.
“How many club owners do you know who conduct business first-thing Sunday morning?” he beamed raggedly, his gaze slowly lifting from Mark – who was still sitting on the stairs, guitar in his lap – up to Jason, who was leaning idly in the doorway.
“Howard Donald, how nice of you to show your face,” Jason folded his arms, one eyebrow arched. He was smiling the kind of smile that only Howard could detect – a smile that, in the coming weeks, he realised he must have been smiling his whole life just waiting for the moment he met someone who actually saw it.
“Come on, I’ve not seen my brother for a month, last night was several weeks’ worth of catch-up,” Howard shrugged and Jason laughed.
“But 4am?! I couldn’t rouse you this morning at all, not even with coffee! Honestly, you’re worse than a teenager!”
“You were out until four? You need to act your age, old man!” Gary appeared behind Jason in the doorway, chuckling at Howard’s lack of embarrassment.
“I told you, my brother’s been away for a while,” Howard smiled, choosing to ignore Gary’s playful jibe. Gary simply shook his head and Howard shrugged before looking back to Jason and tilting his head, his eyes imploring. Jason laughed at him, walking over to where he stood in the middle of the shop floor and, arms still folded, he kissed Howard chastely on the cheek.
“Morning,” he smiled softly.
“Morning,” Howard replied. Mark and Gary exchanged a glance, both rolling their eyes fondly.
“So, Jay has agreed to keep this place running for the week...” Gary cut the moment swiftly, clapping his hands together and moving over to the stairs to join Mark and Howard and Jason’s heads turned in comical unison at the sudden interruption. Jason recovered first, smirking slightly.
“Gaz decided I’m up to the task more like.”
“Are you and Mark off somewhere then?” Howard looked between Gary and Mark with genuine interest; Mark’s grin was wide and there was a slight flash of something in Gary’s eyes that told Howard the two of them were up to something.
“Nowhere special, but yeah, we’ll be gone for a few days,” Gary nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to Mark, who met his gaze and shot him a reassuring smile.
“Gaz, much like you, love, is under the mistaken impression that I am made of glass. He seems to think a few days here will be the death of me,” Jason informed his husband with a smirk, shooting a playful glance at Gary who pulled a face at him and shook his head.
“All I asked was if you’d manage!” he protested.
“Yeah, if I’d manage, like it’s the first time I’ve been in this place!” Jason laughed.
“Laugh it up Jay, but when all hell breaks loose here and you don’t have enough Grade One Saxophone copies to feed the general public’s appetite, you will look back on this moment and wish you’d listened to my concerns.” If Jason had actually remembered Gary saying that by the end of the week, he might have laughed dryly and regretted the roll of his eyes he had given at the time. Howard had simply pulled Jason closer to him and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“I have faith in you,” he mumbled playfully. If only Howard had meant that in a way that was actually important.
“But since Jay’s life could depend on it, you could always stop by for a bit of unpaid labour? Play your cards right and I reckon he might sneak you a few kisses in the back room, after all, there’ll be no Gaz to tell you to keep your hands to yourself...” Mark teased, getting a gentle cuff around his head from Gary for his troubles. Howard pretended to look thoughtful, his arm tightening slightly around Jason’s shoulders.
“Well when you put it like that...” he began, stopping as Jason dug his elbow into his ribs.
“Er, what makes you think I’m that easy?!” he demanded, glancing up at Howard with defiant blue eyes that betrayed a lot more than he wanted them to. The pout on his lips was forced at best.
“Because, love, you are that easy,” Howard chuckled, capturing Jason’s lips in a kiss before he could think to duck away.
“That was not fair,” Jason smiled as he finally pulled back, looking up at his husband from the corner of his eye. Howard simply grinned.
“Yeah, you look like you really hated the whole experience,” Gary joked. Jason sighed and shook his head at Howard and Mark as they chuckled softly.
“Pushover – didn’t I say I was a pushover? You lot take me for granted, you know that?” he told them, eyes alight with affection.
“Face it Jay, you’re pre-programmed to love us,” Mark grinned back, his flippant words ringing more true than he realised.
Outside white clouds were shifting across the sky and the sunshine remained surprisingly resilient, not backing down to rain clouds as it had on so many days that summer. No shoppers walked down Oldham Street and Gary took the decision to turn the shop’s sign around to closed, abandoning the day for the sake of time spent quietly with his friends. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d wasted a day – wasting a day wasn’t in Gary’s nature, after all. He had never really embraced the idea that no day enjoyed was a day wasted, though he understood the principal and wanted more than anything to be able to live his life that way. He wasn’t really built for it though; the quiet life. Gary needed projects, needed to feel like he had achieved something in his days. He supposed, on reflection, he should have thought it more strange that he was so ready to surrender to the laziness of that burst of Mancunian sun, that light that filled up that whole day and disappeared that night. But surrender he did. And enjoy himself he did.
“I guess you two will be off soon,” Mark sighed an hour later, his fingers playing with a thread on his shirt as he stifled a yawn.
“Why?” Jason frowned, lifting his head briefly from the banister to glance up at Mark.
“Oh...I presumed your presence was required at Orange HQ...I mean, it’s ages since you took Sunday off for lunch with your family isn’t it?” Jason pulled a face in response to Mark’s question, dropping his head back down to lean against the banister. Howard shifted awkwardly, looking down at his hands and chewing on his lip.
“No. I uh...opted out this time,” Jason murmured, closing his eyes briefly.
“Opted out? Since when did you turn down Sunday lunch at your mum’s?” Gary asked.
“At my mum’s? Never. But mum’s away with a friend this weekend. I was supposed to show my face at dad’s but...” Jason trailed off, waving his hand vaguely and not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“But they didn’t want me there,” Howard offered and Jason opened his eyes, looking over to Howard with a strangely hurt expression.
“What?!” Mark was incredulous but Jason could only flash him a sad smile.
“Technically not true, Howard was invited,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, like I was invited last time,” Howard shot back somewhat sulkily. Things had been strained between Howard and Jason’s family for a long time now, through no real fault of Howard’s – the damage had probably been done long before he even knew Jason, routed in the brothers’ childhood and inextricably linked to their parents’ divorce and all the things that had come of it. But the damage was there, nonetheless. Barely visible, but Jason bore it like a physical weight at times, desperately trying to do what he had always done; hold the people he cared about together. His mother was different; she’d had her misgivings over Germany, over the distance and time that had been put between her and her son as a result of his relationship with Howard. But Jason’s word was all she needed to be sure of his happiness, she only had to look at Jason’s smile – restored to its full brightness for the first time in a long time – to accept how much Howard meant to him. Safe in that knowledge, Jenny Orange had come to treat Howard as though he was simply another one of her wayward boys, there to be loved and scolded and always to feel at home in her presence. But for Jason’s father things were never so simple. And, somehow, along the way, Jason’s brothers had begun to doubt Howard too. Somewhere in the dim haze of the shop all this was acknowledged and Mark and Gary were forgotten, invisible almost. All Jason saw was Howard, and yet Howard couldn’t meet his eyes.
“How, you know if you asked me to choose, I’d choose you.”
“I’d never ask you to choose, Jay.”
“I know. And that’s why I’d choose you.” Jason held his breath, waiting for Howard to look up, meet his gaze. But he didn’t. Jason swallowed, cupping Howard’s cheek in his hand and pressing a brief kiss to his temple, but Howard’s only response was to close his eyes. Somewhere in the silence he could have sworn he heard a whisper. And something starts, all over again.
Chapter Two: Monday
It could’ve all ended differently, Howard supposed. One different decision on Monday and the rest of the week might have twisted itself into another shape entirely. Although there was a certain inevitability about it – like a script, its writers in total control no matter how he chose to act his scenes, the story always edging out of his grasp. Cut to the man standing on the pavement, helpless. No, useless. Pause for a close-up shot of glass and rain. But it was Monday that did it. Monday, where everything begins, in Manchester just like any other city. But maybe that Monday the coffee had gone to his head, because he neglected to take stock of just what he was standing at the start of. Instead he smiled and fixed his eyes on his husband, who sat on the kitchen worktop, drinking tea and humming quietly under his breath. The radio muttered about the grey skies outside, dropping hints about scattered showers, but inside the apartment it was warm and Jason’s eyes were bright and playful.
“What happened to proving Gaz wrong?” Howard was demanding through a laugh and Jason shrugged, a small smile on his lips.
“Come on, How, you adore me, just grant me this wish and I promise you will be rewarded!”
“Did you write that into our wedding vows somewhere?”
“If I say yes will you cover the shop for me without any more whining?”
“Jay...”
“Oh come on, love, I just need the day, tomorrow it’s all me I swear,” Jason sighed, the playful expression fading into something more desperate.
“This is important to you isn’t it?” Howard looked up and met Jason’s eyes. He didn’t really need to ask, he already knew. He knew because he had watched Jason lying beside him – so still and yet so very awake – for at least three hours last night. He knew because he saw the look in Jason’s eyes when the phone had rung. He knew because he always knew, when it came to Jason.
“How?” Jason’s voice was soft and Howard smiled at him fondly.
“I meant what I said; I’ll never make you choose, Jay. Just...talk some sense into him, please? I want you to...I want you to be happy, you know that, right?”
“I know. And if I can just talk to dad then...”
“You’ve talked to him before though, Jay.”
“He’s not come to me before though, I’ve always gone to him. I think...I don’t know what I think. Maybe he’s seen sense at last. He just wants to make up for lost time, you know? Me and him...we lost a lot of time. Really, truly, you know me better than he does, How. You’ve had more of my time and you know me better. So much better than he ever has...” Jason trailed off, staring down into his tea, his eyes faraway. Howard couldn’t quite be sure of the emotion there; it was neither sadness nor regret, it was something different, something that perhaps even Jason didn’t fully understand.
“And I know the consequences of his actions more than he does too, Jay. He hurt you, and that’s always going to be hanging in the air between him and me. I mean...I don’t let people hurt you, Jay. And yet he thinks I’m a bad influence? I can’t...after everything he’s done, that’s just...”
“Messed up. I know. Welcome to the Orange Family.” Jason let out a long breath and forced a smile, glancing back up at Howard.
“Jay...” Howard began but Jason waved a hand to silence him, jumping down from the counter.
“Don’t worry about it. Come on, you need to get going or you won’t catch Gaz before he leaves.” Jason leant across the breakfast bar, gently prising the coffee mug away from Howard before taking his hands in his own and squeezing them tightly.
“He’s going to say ‘I told you so’, you do know that, don’t you?” Howard smiled softly, reluctantly giving in to Jason’s unspoken plea to change the subject. Why it is the word ‘later’ comes so easily to the two of them, Howard has always questioned. Jason’s eyes glittered, suddenly lively.
“Yeah well, he’s wrong, I thrive at coping on my own, you lot are all just lucky that I choose to live my life amongst you,” he murmured, closing the gap between his and Howard’s faces and capturing Howard’s lips with his own. It was Howard who deepened the kiss, tightening his grip on Jason’s hands and stroking his fingertips lightly against Jason’s wedding ring. Hold on while you can, Donald – he always felt the need to remind himself.
“I love you,” Howard whispered and Jason smiled.
“Yeah you do.”
“Jay,” Howard pleaded and Jason’s expression softened.
“I love you too,” he said honestly, giving Howard a reassuring kiss on his cheek.
When Howard finally made it out of the apartment, he was surprised by the coolness of the air – even for a Mancunian summer it was breezy and grey. He shivered slightly as he made it down Oldham Street and he pulled the sleeves of his thin hoody down over his hands, quickening his pace. He almost made Gary stumble with the speed at which he barrelled into the shop.
“Does this city ever stay warm for more than one day at a time?” Howard asked, dispensing with normal greetings as he rubbed his arms vigorously in an attempt to get warm. Gary took a moment to recover himself, but he smiled pleasantly nonetheless, eventually shaking his head.
“Good morning, Gaz, how are you today? Oh I’m fine thank you, Dougie, thank you so much for asking, what brings you here today?” he retorted and Howard chuckled, ignoring Gary’s sarcasm and choosing to answer his last question instead.
“Jay wants you to know this isn’t him backing out, this is just...family stuff. I’m filling in for a day whilst he meets up with his dad. So anyway, you planning on telling me what this mystery trip of yours is all about? Or is that information top secret?” Howard asked, coming further into the shop and sitting himself down on the stairs. Gary was standing in the middle of the shop-floor holding a small cardboard box filled with CDs and papers, on top of which was balanced some parcel tape and a pair of scissors.
“I was hoping your next question was going to be ‘need a hand?’ – didn’t that husband of yours teach you manners?” Gary smiled and Howard shrugged, leaning back slightly and watching Gary struggle to put the items down.
“He told me something about not putting my feet on the coffee table...I think he gave up after that.”
“You’ve ruined that man,” Gary chuckled.
“Mm, I can find you some members of his family who’d agree with you. So...Jay says this trip of yours is something to do with Robbie? He told me you were asking if he preferred us as a four or a five. For the record, Gaz, I prefer four. I know you know it, and that I’ve said it before but...I’ve nothing against Rob, you know? I won’t stand in your way I just...”
“I know, you hate the uncertainty he brings into everything,” Gary smiled at Howard fondly, coming over to join him on the stairs.
“That’s part of it. But anyway, you’re changing the subject,” Howard countered.
“I’m sorry, Howard, I just...I’ve enjoyed it, you know? Having Rob’s ideas around, it’s kind of...reinvigorated me. And Marko just loves having Rob in his life again. If there’s anything I can do to keep the connection alive for him...” Gary trailed off and Howard nodded in reluctant understanding.
“I know; you have to do it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I understand. So, what, you’re going to Stoke to ask him to join us more officially or something?” Howard queried, looking up at Gary, eyebrows raised.
“Not exactly...it’s...I need to sort some things out. And see how the land lies. Things between him and me are...awkward. I’m pretty sure my husband is the love of his life so...” Gary trailed off, a wry smiled playing on his lips that made Howard laugh.
“If someone looked at Jay the way he looks at Mark, I might actually go insane.”
“Actually, I know it’s stupid but...I don’t really mind that so much. I know maybe I should but...I just feel sorry for him. Imagine if one day, Jay just stopped loving you the way he does now. And you knew there was nothing you could do to get that love back, but you still loved him just the same as always,” Gary sighed and Howard winced. He couldn’t help it, the reaction was instinctive.
“Ok, you’ve made your point. You know, at least with Grace I’ve got that guarantee that she shares my DNA, she’s stuck with me. But with Jay...” Howard shook his head and looked away.
“Oh come off it, Howard. Blood might be thicker than water, but water keeps us alive,” Gary said gently, nudging Howard’s shoulder with his own.
“Blood’s kind of important too you know,” Howard pointed out quietly and Gary rolled his eyes.
“Do you mind? I was being profound! Look, what I’m trying to say is, I don’t think you should really be scared about Jay. Jay...he just doesn’t do loving people the way he loves you unless he really means it. He’s too cautious. If it wasn’t something he needed he wouldn’t have done it at all, you know? I was just giving you an example, that’s all.”
“Yeah. I know. Still, it’s not something I can think about. I’ve got a protective streak, y’ know? And after everything we’ve been through together...”
“Ah, that’s the point though, you’ve been through it together. And you’re still together now. But, just so we’re clear though, this worrying you’re doing...it’s because of this thing with his family, isn’t it?” Gary asked and Howard nodded, a jaded smile twisting at his lips.
“His dad called him this morning, wants to talk to him. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I just know that if his brothers and his dad pull much harder, Jay’s arm might just drop off. This is killing him, he’s told me as much. I don’t know what he’d do if they forced him to choose.”
“He’d choose you – he’s said that often enough.”
“I know he would. But that’s what worries me. He’d choose me and I think...I think having to just cut them out of his life like that might kill him. I don’t ever want to put him in that position. I will do anything to protect him, Gaz, anything. I mean it. If he told me to leave tomorrow...”
“Howard, don’t be daft. Cutting you out of his life would kill him. Come on, have a little faith.” Faith. Everyone kept using that word.
By the time Gary made it to the station the summer showers had descended and he found himself having to jostle past a gaggle of umbrellas at Manchester Piccadilly’s main entrance. He was running late – or rather, he was running on Howard Time, which everyone except Howard was aware was at least ten minutes behind the rest of the world. Soaked from his walk, Gary had to brush raindrops from his hair as he surveyed the station concourse, attempting to spot Mark amidst the crowds. He had wanted to drive to Stoke originally. It wasn’t too far, after all. But Mark had insisted; make a trip of it. Lugging his overnight bag with him, Gary made it across to the departure boards in order to get a better view of the crowds. He didn’t have to look hard; Mark was standing outside WH Smiths, a bag of skittles in his hand, rising up onto his tiptoes (as best as he could in his new boots) and looking around anxiously. Gary smiled a small, fond smile at his husband and shook his head slightly, quickly making his way over to him.
“Sorry! Sorry!” he called out, instantly attracting Mark’s attention as he dashed towards him. Instinctively, he reached out an arm and wrapped it around Mark’s waist, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek before dipping his other hand into the bag of Skittles and grabbing a handful.
“Hey! You’d better not have taken too many red ones!” Mark pouted in protest.
“Too late,” Gary chuckled through a mouthful and Mark tried his best to look aggrieved. He folded his arms and watched steadily as Gary chewed away at his sweets, before letting out a sigh of defeat.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he remarked after a moment.
“Sorry about that; I was with Howard,” Gary told him with a grin, as though that explained all. Mark simply nodded mutely and looked away, pulling the sleeves of his mauve jumper down over his hands and developing an interest in its loose threads.
“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind,” he mumbled. Gary had to strain to hear him over the noise of the station. He looked at Mark carefully for a moment before touching a gentle finger to his chin, tipping his face up so Mark’s gaze met his own.
“Hey, come on, I’m serious about this. You know I am. The past is the past and...as far as I’m concerned, he’s a good friend. And you know, Marko, he’s talented. So talented. He deserves to be heard. I really believe that. And if he needs time...time to process things or time to get himself in the right frame of might for all this...if he needs to think a while, I’ll wait for him. I promise.” Gary saw Mark’s eyes glimmer as he spoke and suddenly the station didn’t seem so busy to him. Mark rose up onto his tiptoes once more and pressed a kiss to Gary’s lips.
“Gary Barlow, you are the best human being I know,” he whispered. Gary held his eyes a moment, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small smile.
“Come on, we could still miss that train yet if we’re not careful.”
Once they arrived at their platform, they found they’d had no need to worry; a ten minute delay had just been announced on the departure screens. But Mark was too excited for slowness – something about train journeys hadn’t lost its magic for him when he’d grown up – and he all but dragged Gary onto the waiting train. Gary nodded to an empty table towards the middle of their coach and Mark made a beeline for it, flinging himself down into the seat closest the window and promptly starting to unload the contents of his bag onto the table. Gary chuckled slightly, putting the overnight bag up into the overhead compartment before calmly settling himself into the seat opposite Mark’s. He watched as Mark spread out across the table; magazines, headphones and a computer lead were tangled about in amidst a growing collection of sweet-treats, sandwiches and biscuits.
“And I wonder why I never manage to keep to any of my diets,” Gary chuckled, looking at the collection and shaking his head before picking out a bag of Cadbury’s Chocolate Eclairs and claiming it as his own. Mark pulled a face at him, but made no attempt to grab the bag back.
“You don’t fool me with your self-pity you know, you are thinner than I’ve ever known you. It’s starting to frighten me actually,” he smiled, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet Gary’s before he turned back to searching through his bags.
“Why have you got all this anyway? I think they have food in Stoke you know.”
“I know – I lived there remember! But you always need to pack food for a journey, it’s just the rule. I’m looking for my iPod...I hope I remembered to pack it. Hey, speaking of music though, did you post that stuff to Jonathan?” Mark looked up hopefully.
“Dropped it off on the way to the station,” Gary nodded, popping an eclair into his mouth and winking at Mark.
Back at the shop, Howard was going stir-crazy. The rain, though light, was tapping on the front window, a sound that had a habit of giving him a headache. No customer was going to brave this weather for the sake of buying themselves some old records, of that he was sure. Although it wasn’t the lack of customers that was getting to him. It was Jason. Howard couldn’t lie – not to himself, and certainly not to Jason – he didn’t like not being with his husband today. He wanted to be able to be there when Jason’s dad came round, he wanted not so much to fight his own corner, but to fight Jason’s. After all, as well-meaning as Tony Orange might be, he didn’t have the best track-record with his second-born. And where was his thought for Jason’s feelings back when they really had been hurt? It was easy to be there for him now, now he was a grown man who’d made his choices in life and could, for the most part, take care of himself. But what about when Jason was younger? Howard let out a long sigh and shook his head, only half-aware that his glowering was making Cadbury nervous. The dog watched him uncertainly from the corner of the piano room, silently wishing Dawn would hurry up and collect him. Howard’s phone beeped, breaking the tension, and for a moment Howard thought it was Jason and he leapt towards it in the hope of seeing a message saying all was well and he’d be round to take over duties at the shop in ten minutes. But no. It was Grace – someone else he’d been longing to hear from for a while. A three week chunk of Grace’s summer holidays was being spent with her mother and, for one of those weeks, her mother’s new boyfriend too. A slightly bumbling man by the name of Blake who, Grace had informed Howard (via Jason), was acceptable, despite the fact he taught maths at some London secondary school. Grace despised maths. But Howard could see why Blake had still managed to win his daughter over. After all, he couldn’t deny that Blake was hard to dislike; he was one of those smiley types who was impossibly calm and knew how to tell a good story. Blake, Vicky and Grace had left the week before, heading down south somewhere to some B&B by the sea that Howard had long ago forgotten the name of, and they weren’t due back until sometime on Wednesday, though Grace had yet to bother letting her father know how things were going. Howard remembered, with a slightly sad chuckle, making her promise once, back when she was four, to never grow up. At the time she had nodded obediently, smiling up at him broadly and saying ‘Yes daddy’ before hugging him, then promptly begging him to buy her an ice-cream. It was a promise, he suspected, she had never looked back upon. Shortly after he’d started dating Jason he’d told him about it and Jason had laughed at him, gently, fondly, and told him he didn’t stand a chance. Howard should be used to his husband being right by now, he supposed.
“It’s only coz he loves me that I’ve not had an ‘I told you so’ for that yet,” Howard informed Cadbury as he read through his daughter’s brief text. The dog simply huffed and rested his head on his paws.
Just as Howard was sending his reply to Grace, the shop’s bell caught his attention and he looked up in time to see Dawn cross the shop floor, stepping down into the piano room as though she owned the place, a bright smile gracing her pink lips. Dawn’s blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and her summery jeans and t-shirt were smattered with raindrops, though she looked as sunny as she ever did despite it.
“Hello Trouble,” Dawn beamed at him, dodging past the baby-grand so she could give Howard a hug. He gladly accepted the gesture, squeezing her fondly.
“Nice to see you again, Dawn,” he grinned over her shoulder. Dawn pulled back and grimaced theatrically.
“Nice to see me awake you mean! I am so sorry about that.” Dawn couldn’t help laughing slightly as she blushed and Howard waved her off.
“We both know I led you astray,” he assured her. Dawn was mischievous, in her own ways, but Howard had a habit of bringing out the devil in her. Gary often remarked that he regretted introducing them; he’d always loved how grounded Dawn was and he was frequently thrown by the light-headedness Howard induced in her.
“I’m pretty sure that, since it was Jay’s birthday, he was the only one who had the right to end up out-for-the-count on other people’s sofas,” Dawn smiled, putting her hands up to her face in an attempt to hide her amusement at the memory.
“Please, like Jay would ever drink enough for that. Too sensible. Swearing at strangers, maybe, but never sofa-crashing,” Howard wrinkled his nose playfully and Dawn shook her head at him, giving him a teasing slap on the arm.
“Anyway, you’re not the reason I came here! Where is the useless lump who is so requiring of my attention?” she asked, glancing around.
“That’s no way to talk about Gaz,” Howard joked, earning himself another smack on the arm before Dawn made her way over to give Cadbury a scratch behind the ears. Cadbury adored Dawn – she was the only person he would behave well for when Mark and Gary needed a dog-sitter.
“Howard Donald you’re incorrigible, I don’t know how Jay puts up with you, I really don’t,” Dawn shot back over her shoulder at Howard as she continued to lavish attention on the Labrador in front of her. But Howard wasn’t listening, he’d already been distracted.
“Dawn...” he began. Dawn’s senses were instantly on alert and she stood up sharply, turning her back to Cadbury and narrowing her eyes at Howard.
“Oh no you don’t! Howard, I’m already taking the dog, no more favours for the Barlow’s crew...” she was protesting, but Howard looked back at her pleadingly.
“Please, Dawn, it’s just this afternoon...”
“Howard,” Dawn groaned.
“You’re not doing anything today, are you?”
“This new dance school I’ve starting teaching at doesn’t have many weekday classes, these days I’m mostly free except for weekends. But that doesn’t mean I have any intentions to help keep shop while Gary’s away, just coz you want to go home and suck face with your husband, or whatever it is you two crazy kids do when the rest of us aren’t looking,” Dawn’s eyes were bright and sparkly in the dim shop and Howard couldn’t help laughing. The woman garnered affection with ease, but he refused to be charmed into submission.
“It’s not a social call, I promise...Dawn, there’s some serious stuff going on right now with Jay’s family and I just...I really want to make sure he’s alright, you know?”
“Isn’t that why phones were invented, How?” Dawn sighed, but he could tell he was breaking her down. It was strange really, he thought; Dawn was a very determined woman, she could get her own way if she wanted, but she, just like so many others before her, seemed to be easily drawn back into the strange little music shop with the fading red sign.
“Please? It’s just one afternoon...” Howard looked at her hopefully and she rolled her eyes.
“Why do you do this to me?” she asked and he grinned back at her without shame.
“I’m very persuasive, just ask Jay,” he grinned and Dawn wrinkled her nose jokingly.
“Yeah, I so don’t need that information. Just make sure you don’t ask me for any more favours, ok?”
“Thank you Dawn, you’re a star! The spare key’s hanging on the mug tree, help yourself to tea...or yoghurt...and...if there are any problems just...”
“Tell ‘em the manager will be back in a few days, I know the drill. Go on, I know you’re dying to get out of here! Go, mush, mush!” Dawn sighed, all but pushing Howard out of the door.
Gary, meanwhile, had already long forgotten his little shop. He was caught in a daydream – something that, in the coming days, he wouldn’t allow himself to do easily. He watched the scenery shifting outside the train window but he didn’t register any of it, his eyes focused on a point somewhere just above the trees and buildings. It wasn’t so much that he was looking at the sky, more that he wasn’t looking at anything at all. Though, somehow, he felt like he was looking at everything, every detail both clear and ambiguous to him at the same time. He glanced across the table at Mark, who was resting his chin on his hand, his eyes cast down at his iPod. Silently Gary reached out a hand, taking Mark’s free hand in his own and giving it a squeeze. Mark met his eyes immediately and smiled a half-smile that, though it reached his eyes, didn’t have the surety that Mark’s smiles so often had.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Gary offered. Mark let out a small sigh, shaking his head and glancing out of the window.
“I dunno, Gaz. I guess I’m just...thinking about...stuff. About these last few years...” Mark’s voice wavered slightly and Gary gave his hand another squeeze.
“A lot’s happened,” Gary said softly, his blue eyes clouding briefly because he knew those words didn’t even begin to convey just how significant those few years had been. It didn’t surprise him, as he thought about it, that he couldn’t remember the last time a year had ended with him able to sit back and declare it ‘normal’. Whatever normal may be, of course. What was normal for them anymore? After everything they’d been through, the four of them. Not all of it was bad; Howard and Jason had got married, he and Mark had married too. They’d had their fair share of break-ups and make-ups but they had all stayed together, kept alive a friendship that was important to them all. Gary had begun confiding in Howard, Jason had relaxed a little more into his own skin, Mark had finally stopped pretending that everything in the world tasted of strawberry ice-cream. But it had been tough to get that far. It had been hard work. Gary was of the opinion it had been worth it, but he could see how the struggle might look to an outsider. Wasn’t happiness supposed to let you rest more easily amidst its glow? Happiness never let them rest easy, or it didn’t seem to anyway.
“It’s...it’s been awful sometimes, you know?” Mark admitted quietly, a sad smile playing on his lips. Ghosts filled the quiet carriage then. Not people, but moments. Standing outside in the rain waiting for a memorial service for their friend. But Jason hadn’t died, Gary had to remind himself a little too forcefully. Sitting down in the shop, Mark’s wedding ring in his hand and Mark – and even Jason and Howard – long gone. But they came back. Mark came back. Gary found that easier to remember.
“I’ve a mate, I don’t think you’ve met him, but he plays guitar, works in a music therapy unit somewhere in London. When he was learning to play, he used to sit there ‘til his fingers bled, just so he could be able to play a few tunes. He’s pretty good now. And his playing...he uses it to help sick kids. It’s pretty amazing actually...” Gary murmured and slowly Mark met his eyes, a brighter smile forming on his lips.
“Beauty from pain,” he whispered in understanding and Gary nodded.
“Something like that.”
“It’s a nice thought but...sometimes, when I think about everything we’ve been though – me and you, How and Jay...Rob...”
“You worry it’s been a lot of pain and not enough beauty?” Gary questioned, his brow furrowing. Mark laughed softly, shaking his head.
“No. No, Gaz, it’s...from where I’m sitting it’s been a pretty fucking long journey but...worth it.”
“So...?”
“So...sometimes I just...I realize where we are in life and everything it’s taken to get this far and I just wonder how much more we could take. I mean...don’t you ever look around you, Gaz, and...and you know you have to press on but it’s so scary because...”
“Every time you’ve pressed on in the past, it’s hurt like hell?” Gary smiled ruefully. Mark nodded.
“Don’t you ever look around you and wonder; what the fuck to we do now?” he asked. Gary simply shrugged.
“Yeah. I do.”
“And?” Mark’s eyes were bright, alert. Gary met his gaze and smiled a determined smile. He leant across the table and pressed a kiss to Mark’s forehead, cupping his face in his hand. Remember this moment, Gary Barlow. Remember your words.
“And, Marko, I think it’s called being alive.”
In Manchester, Howard was already outside his apartment, fishing around in his pockets for his keys. As he moved to scrabble around in his bag, the sound of a raised voice caught his ear and he stilled immediately, his senses alert. That was Jason’s voice. And Jason rarely raised his voice.
“And what do you suggest, dad? That I leave him? God.”
“Jason, son, listen to me, I’m not telling you what to do with your life, I’m just...”
“You’re just what? Offering me some parental advice? You’re so full of it! You don’t even know who I am, dad, you certainly don’t know me well enough to say I’m turning into someone else because of him,” Jason’s voice was slightly softer then and Howard felt a physical twinge run through his body, like something inside him had just splintered. Jason sounded as though he was about to cry.
“You were the one that chose for it to be that way, Jason, you didn’t want to know me.”
“Because, if you remember, you didn’t want to know me once either! How long did it take you to glance back over your shoulder at your family? Mum was there for us. I was there for my brothers. Howard has been there for me. You...you’re just some bloke who disappeared one day and came back home too late.”
“Jason...”
“Jason, what? Go on, tell me I’m wrong.”
“Look, I’m sorry for the mistakes I made with you and your brothers, you know I am. But I...I thought we’d moved on, that we’d worked past this. I’m just concerned for you, don’t I have the right to be concerned for you? Despite everything, I am still your father.”
“Barely,” Jason snapped and, under different circumstances, Howard would’ve smiled. His husband had a bite – sure, he might want to cry, he might want to just curl up under his duvet and pretend the day wasn’t happening, but he would never back down just because it was easy. He was feisty, when he wanted to be. Howard was to find, in time, that unpredictable streak was disarmingly attractive, when turned in the right direction. But in that moment, Howard could only wince. This fight was doing no one any good.
“And your brothers, do you think they know you? Because they’re worried too.”
“Sure they’re worried, I’m not at their beck and call anymore, that’s what’s upsetting them, nothing Howard’s done.”
“Justin says...”
“Screw Justin. He used to know better, but now...god, mum’s the only one...”
“She had her concerns once,” Tony Orange sounded, even to himself, like he was clutching at straws. But stubbornness ran through the Orange family.
“Yeah. She did. When I was in Germany, when things were different. But that wasn’t Howard’s fault. I wanted to go because I wanted him to be able to do something for himself for a change, instead of me always dragging him along. He’s not trying to control me, dad. And he’s not the reason I didn’t show for lunch yesterday. I make my own decisions.”
“You used to.” Howard clenched his jaw at that; he knew Jason better than this man, he knew that if Jason didn’t make a decision, it was because he’d decided not to make it. Howard had come to accept that quite early on in their relationship. He understood; it all went right back to when Jason’s parents had divorced, was all part of the way he had coped. Having something he so badly wanted to control but never could had made him decide that taking control of everything else was essential. With Howard, he could let his guard slip, at least a little. But with family? No. They were too close to the original disaster. Howard shook his head slightly, finally pulling out his key and slipping it into the lock, opening the door as quietly as possible. Neither Jason nor his father noticed, too wrapped up in their fighting to hear the door click closed. The two men were stood opposite each other, either side of the breakfast bar. Jason’s arms were wrapped around himself; Howard knew him well enough to realise it was a defence mechanism, a quite literal attempt to keep the emotions inside. To hold himself together.
“Had it occurred to you that it’s you I’m not relaxed with? Had it occurred to you that Howard is the only person who knows...the only person who knows what I am and why?”
“I don’t know what you...” his father began but Jason shook his head and closed his eyes.
“You made me who I am, dad. You made me into this.”
“Jason...”
“Don’t ‘Jason’ me!” Jason was shouting again now and Howard could see he was on the verge of collapse. Later he regretted intervening, though, no matter how events turned out, he was still sure it had been right to speak up. Sure, maybe Actual Hell was unleashed in that moment. But he had kept Jason safe, for a little while longer at least.
“Please, son...” Tony Orange was endeavouring to break through the walls that Jason was attempting to rebuild around himself and it was a battle that could have raged all day if Howard hadn’t stepped forward, his blue eyes steely.
“I think you’d better leave, Tony” he interrupted. Both Jason and his father snapped their heads round, looking over at him in surprise. He could see them both trying to assess just how much he’d heard. But Howard didn’t waver, his gaze remaining trained on Tony Orange, his lips an emotionless line.
“Howard...” Tony finally mustered uncomfortably.
“I said: leave.”
“Excuse me, but this is my son’s apartment!” Howard hardly reacted to the protest.
“True. Now leave.”
“You can’t just...”
“Actually, I can.”
“But my son...”
“This is your son’s apartment, and your son is my husband.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to tell him who he can and can’t see.”
“No, it doesn’t. It gives me the right to protect him though. And right now no one is doing more harm to him than you are. No one is allowed to upset my husband, Tony, ok? I promised him that much and I fully intend to come through for him. No one can hurt Jay and expect me to leave them be, especially not here. You destroyed one home of his once, don’t you dare try and destroy another now.” Howard tried to be calm, but it was an effort not to raise his voice. Tony looked over to his son.
“Jason?”
“Go, dad. Please.” Jason swallowed hard, looking away, and his father glanced from him to Howard and back again before reluctantly stepping around Howard and heading out of the door. Howard hardly noticed him leave; he was at Jason’s side in less than a second, crushing the slighter man against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. Jason shook against Howard’s studier build, tears for a hundred different indistinct things silently slipping down his cheeks. Howard kissed the top of his head and cradled him close, whispering nonsensical things that were strangely comforting to the both of them. He thought it was just going to be one rough day, he never planned on writing off at least a week. But then, they never did plan it that way.
Perhaps ten minutes passed, perhaps half an hour. Neither of them cared. They’d stand there a week if they wanted to – lord knows both men were stubborn enough. Howard eventually silenced his whisperings of comfort, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of Jason’s neck by way of a full-stop. Jason shifted his head a little and looked up. His eyes were sore – pinkish and glassy – but he managed a small smile.
“You’re skiving,” he remarked in a quiet voice. Howard couldn’t help letting out a small chuckle.
“You’re changing the subject,” he countered and Jason’s eyes briefly lit up. This was their game; the back-and-forth, kiss-then-tell game. Neither one of them ever named it, or even acknowledged it out loud. But every time disaster struck, there it was again.
“Are you going to let me change it?” Jason asked, leaning back in Howard’s arms, his spine curving elegantly as he tipped his head a little further, meeting Howard’s gaze. Howard stroked a thumb along Jason’s cheek and Jason’s eyes fluttered closed in response – Howard knew how to get so many subtle reactions from this man. Kiss his temple for his head to tilt. For a sigh, kiss the corner of his eye. Kiss his the corner of his mouth for him to briefly smile. A kiss to the cheek to draw him closer. Jason stilled in the embrace as Howard followed the familiar pattern. One final kiss to the crook of Jason’s neck and Jason tucked himself neatly against Howard’s chest.
“You know I can’t just pretend I heard nothing, don’t you?” Howard asked him, resting his chin on Jason’s head.
“Well if you will creep up on people...”
“Jay.”
“How long were you there?”
“Long enough,” Howard told him, pulling back once more in an attempt to regain eye contact. Jason obliged, offering him a weak little smile in return before looking back down and playing with the cords on Howard’s hoody.
“I’m guessing you bullied Dawn into covering you at the shop?” he questioned softly. Howard sighed.
“I prefer the term ‘persuaded’ actually,” he replied with a half-smile. Jason nodded.
“So...you don’t need to be anywhere?” he pressed and Howard almost laughed. He wanted to say ‘Like I’d leave you like this’, but he didn’t want to make Jason feel too exposed too quickly so he simply trimmed it down to the more universal truth.
“Like I’d leave you.” Jason’s lips quirked at that but he didn’t look up. Howard placed a finger to his chin and tilted his head up by force.
“You want something?” Jason asked, suddenly sparkling again. There was intent in Howard’s touch.
“Just the usual,” Howard told him, tilting his own head enough to pull Jason easily into a kiss, his other arm tightening around Jason’s waist. He couldn’t help it; the need to protect, to preserve. In that moment Jason was happy. His arm couldn’t really hold that happiness in or keep reality at bay, but he needed at least to try. For Jason’s sake he needed to try.
“You win,” Jason whispered before their mouths were even fully parted. Their faces were so close that Howard could feel Jason’s breath against his lips and he wavered.
“Let’s call it a draw. But we do have to talk about it, you know that, right?” he murmured back and Jason’s eyes shone with red-rimmed gratitude.
“I know. But later. For now, can we please just move this over to the sofa?” he smiled.
It was midnight before ‘later’ came. The light that came in through the bedroom window made Jason’s eyes look almost grey, and Howard watched them glimmer in the semi-darkness. He lay on his front, one arm resting lightly across Jason’s stomach, and he could tell from Jason’s expression that the words were coming. But something in his gut told him a whole lot more was coming too. Slowly he pushed himself closer, tugging at the sheets and bringing them up over the two of them. Another pause and Jason took in a breath.
“I have forgiven him, you know. For...for the past.” Jason didn’t have to elaborate. Howard knew everything. Over the years there’d been only one person to get the full story out of Jason and that person was Howard. Most people who knew Jason well enough knew the timeline of events, those closer knew a little of how Jason had coped with it. But Howard was the only one who understood. He knew the timeline, he knew the details of important events, he knew how Jason had coped. And, more importantly, he knew how it had made Jason feel. He knew how it has shaped the man lying next to him. Jason didn’t like to admit the impact, but he was self-aware enough to know it was there. Still he only trusted Howard with the information, leaving others just to guess.
“I know,” Howard replied after a moment, wishing he could say more. Jason heard all the things Howard wanted to say and he didn’t need him to say them. They were there is those two words. He did know. He knew everything. The sheets were over both their heads now.
“I can’t help that everything still comes back to it though, you know? I’ve forgiven him but...he changed me. He didn’t mean to but he did.”
“You should tell him that.”
“I tried, it made no difference, Howard, he can’t see...he can’t see how it was for me.”
“He probably just thinks it’s normal. Fathers shape their sons, he probably doesn’t know that...that leaving the way he did totally eclipsed all the other stuff. You need to explain for him, Jay. For all of them. If they understood...”
“No. How...I don’t like thinking about it, I don’t like talking about it, I don’t...I hate that it’s true. I don’t want to be the way I am sometimes but...”
“Jay, don’t. Please, for me, don’t say that. I adore you, this you,” Howard lifted his head a little off the pillow and Jason shifted himself slightly, meeting Howard’s eyes.
“Shit happens to make us better people, I guess. But sometimes I wonder...what if...”
“But if it happened, and it was awful, but some good came out of it, then maybe you should start talking about it, Jay. Open up to him, to all your family, just a little bit more.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Jason looked away at that.
“When dad left, Simon shut down. Mum tried but she couldn’t do everything, there were too many of us. Justin wasn’t...I was usually the responsible twin, let’s just put it that way...”
“I know all this.”
“Then you should know that I didn’t have a choice, I was elected the Honorary Eldest. I had to be strong for them. And they liked it that way. It stayed that way for so long...”
“Until me.”
“Until you,” Jason echoed dully. The two men fell silent a moment, but both were aware that their muscles were still tensed, as if in anticipation. There were things neither one of them would let go of, zipping about past their ears in the otherwise quiet room.
“You should tell them, Jay. Put us all on better terms. Explain to them what you sacrificed.”
“They’re my brothers, Howard!”
“They’re grown men, Jason! It’s time you told them ‘Screw it, I’m your big brother but I’m human too’. For my sake can’t you at least fucking do that?!” Howard snapped. Jason turned his head to meet Howard’s eyes. They were really glittering now – unshed tears and anger mingling.
“Don’t you do that to me. Don’t pretend like I don’t love you enough. Don’t act like I haven’t gone against my nature so much for your sake, Howard Donald.”
“Oh I know, Jay. Believe me, I know. You’d choose me. But had it occurred to you, at all, that this shouldn’t be a choice? Your family ought to know you too, Jay. Maybe it’s not the same, maybe it’ll never be the same, but they still ought to know you better than you let them know you. It’s not like it’d make them stop loving you. After all, I know you, I still love you somehow.”
“Somehow?!” Jason’s tone was clipped. If Howard had been listening better, he would’ve heard the hurt there. But he was too angry to be listening to the subtle shift in Jason’s voice.
“What are you so fucking scared of, Jay?” he muttered, before turning his back on Jason and closing his eyes, refusing to move a muscle for fear that Jason took it as a sign of the argument not being finished. Jason watched his back for a moment then closed his own eyes. If Howard had known how hard he was trying not to cry, he might have turned round. Give him twenty-four hours and he’ll wish he’d turned round anyway.
“What am I so scared of? Well, I guess I’m scared of having them turn their backs on me,” he whispered, before turning his own back to Howard. For the next few hours, the two men pretended to sleep.
Chapter Three: Tuesday, Morning
Stoke-on-Trent had sunshine. Slightly dim and slightly cheapened by the looming silhouette of the incinerator, but Gary wouldn’t criticise – there’s plenty of places with crappy scenery in the world, he just happened to think it was the people that made the place. And, no matter what the stereotypes might say, the people here seemed nice. It was early, too early for most, but Gary had an appreciation for this time of day. Mark was telling a story, something about how Stoke lost its industry, no doubt a passionately-told tale passed on by Robbie, whose affection for his city seemed contagious. Though, Gary had to confess, he wasn’t really listening. He could almost see it all for himself in the way the city was; run-down streets, boarded-up shops, but the people still nodded greetings to each other, like something from a by-gone era. It was as though the injustice of being shunned by the rest of the country, of having their industry, with its specialist skills and its social significance, die on them, and no one care, had bound them all together in some way. What was it Mark had said as the train neared Stoke Station? Treat Rob and his city the same way; there’s certain surface bruising, but, if you’re willing to look past it, you’ll be rewarded with honest-to-goodness friendship. Gary smiled to himself, nodding slightly at the thought. Although, looking around, he couldn’t help but think the surface-bruising was easy to look past in this particular part of town. He and Mark and were strolling along the canal, hands casually clasped, tame sunlight reflecting off the admittedly-murky water beside them. There were even a few flowers growing here and there, the odd brightly-painted canal-boat chugging by, a solitary bird twittering away somewhere in the distance. Manchester felt like a foreign country compared to this peaceful place. Gary did love his city, knew similar quiet-spots to stroll through there, but it was still different. Mark caught his eye and stopped talking, squinting his eyes against the sunlight.
“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” he sighed, stopping in his tracks and tugging Gary over to sit down on a bench. Gary chuckled, shrugging idly and taking in the scenery once more.
“Sure I am. Stoke-on-Trent, The Potteries. The South are disgusted by them, the North don’t want to be associated with them, the Midlands wish someone else would take them off their hands...and Robbie Williams and Mark Owen? They champion them,” he replied, turning back to look Mark in the eye. Mark smiled slightly shyly and shrugged.
“I liked it here, y’ know? I’d been in London too long maybe, but when I came here...everyone calling me ‘duck’, people in shops sharing a joke with me when I went to pay...people care about each other here. And when I asked Rob about it, he said it’s coz they have to care about each other here, since no one else really gives a damn.” Mark leant back slightly, looking back to the canal.
“If it helps, I get it. There’s little pockets of places like this all over England I think, places where the people still have time to look out for their neighbours. Stoke’s just had the misfortune to get some bad press,” Gary said softly. Mark looked back up at him then and, slowly, he shifted himself along the bench so he and Gary were squashed together in the centre. He cupped Gary’s face in his hand and pressed a single kiss to his lips.
“Thank you,” he murmured after a moment and Gary’s blue eyes twinkled.
“What for?”
“For always seeing things as they really are.”
“Well, you know me, I’m a straight-talker,” Gary grinned, nudging Mark with his shoulder and making him laugh.
“Yeah well, I have taken you to the fancy part of town. See up there, that’s the Britannia Stadium. The Premier League Effect, Rob calls it, the area right round the ground has kind of scrubbed itself up. I don’t know whether he means it got better coz of more money coming in, or whether he reckons everyone cleaned up their acts to try and impress the rich footballers, but either way, it’s quite nice. Then over that way, just beyond those fields, is Trentham. You know, like Trentham Gardens? Which are beautiful, by the way. Rob and me worked at a restaurant there, he’d sneak us in on break and we’d have a cheeky fag in the grounds. Anyway, Trentham is basically one of the shiniest parts of the city.”
“And Rob was born in...?”
“Not Trentham, that’s for sure. The rest of the city will tell you Rob was born in the crap part of town. But Rob’ll tell you it’s the best,” Mark grinned. Gary chuckled then glanced back over to where the Britannia was poking out through a gap in the trees. The reds and whites , painted logos and waving flags looked somewhat splendid in the early sun and, if Gary hadn’t know Robbie’s football preferences, he would’ve said it was quite a nice view for the younger man to wake up to every day.
“So Robbie Williams has reached the dizzy heights of Trentham, his house is over-looking the Premier League Effect...you think he’s ready to take another step up?” he asked. Mark rested his head on Gary’s shoulder, letting out a long sigh.
“He’s not about to leave Stoke behind if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You know that’s not what I’m asking, Marko.”
“I know. But...I can’t answer what you’re really asking me. That’s up to him,” Mark shrugged. Gary nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of Mark’s head.
“Well in that case, we should get going...” he began and Mark groaned.
“Can’t we stay here a little longer?” he grumbled, looking up at Gary with bright, hopeful eyes, his face so wide and innocent that it would’ve taken a core of steel to resist him. Gary was self-aware enough to know that, sometimes, his frankness pissed people off. If he was having a bad day, it read on his face. If he disliked someone, was uncomfortable, irate or too tired to deal with them, they would know about it; his top lip would curl, his eyes would turn an icier shade of blue and he couldn’t stand making eye-contact for fear of it just making him angrier. Mark, on the other hand, was a different story. Mark’s face was his gift. No matter how badly he behaved, how reprehensible his actions, no matter what he did wrong, people forgave him. Partly that was because of who he was; a likeable person if ever there was one, a well-meaning, if occasionally misguided, sort, determinedly positive and as good a friend as anyone could want. But a lot of people’s willingness to forgive him was in fact down to his face. That wide, smile-lined face with its round, sparkling eyes, hair falling down into them as he flashed hopeful smiles around. He drew affection to him. Cute-as-a button, in Gary’s mind, was a phrase invented for Mark Owen. He often tried to find some essence of Mark in other mildly-adorable people he met, but he was always left wanting.
“With you? I’d stay in a burning building,” Gary replied at last, wrapping an arm around Mark’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze. Mark settled against him, pulling his legs up onto the bench and letting out a contented sigh.
“I’ll remember you said that, Barlow,” he smiled.
In Manchester, the sun didn’t shine. When Howard woke up it was raining. Another grey Tuesday in another Mancunian summer. He closed his eyes again a moment, trying to will the rain away, but when he opened one eye back up, there it was, speckled across the glass of the bedroom window. He groaned and rolled over onto his back. His head ached and there was a nauseousness in the pit of his stomach, like a bad hangover, but somehow subtly different. Of course: The Argument. He rubbed a hand over his face and strained to try and hear any signs of life coming from the apartment. The bed beside him was empty but not yet made, and he was sure he could hear the television. What sounded like the breakfast news was buzzing in the distance, slightly muffled through the bedroom door.
He found Jason in the kitchen, sitting on the counter eating a bowl of cereal. His eyes didn’t leave the television as Howard made his way into the room and instead he continued to watch the screen – peering just over Howard’s head and across to the living room – even as his husband closed the distance between them, coming around the breakfast bar. It wasn’t until Howard was right in front of him, his hands placed either side of him on the counter, that he finally looked down. Howard’s hair was sleep-mussed and his eyes a little bleary, but the emotion there was unmistakeable, especially to someone who knew him as well as Jason did.
“I’m sorry,” Howard murmured softly. His voice was morning-husky and it occurred to Jason that it must be the first time he’d used it since their shouting match in bed the night before.
“I’m sorry too,” he whispered back. Howard didn’t smile, though his eyes gleamed their startling blue gleam at Jason. A distinct contrast to the greyness of the morning air. Slowly Howard leant his weight forwards onto his hands, his chin tilting up until his lips met Jason’s. Jason allowed himself to be pulled down into the kiss, only leaning back when his balance on the worktop became compromised. He and Howard stared at each other in silence for a moment and Howard cupped Jason’s cheek in his hand.
“You sure you’re ok to go to the shop today?” he asked him quietly, his voice so full of concern that Jason found himself very tempted to say ‘No’, just to see if Howard would let him stay home so they could hide out on the sofa together, kissing and watching TV. Just like yesterday. Later Howard would wish he had said ‘No’, later Howard would dream of their yesterday.
“I’m sure I’ll survive it. What’s the worst that could happen?” Jason’s laugh didn’t reach his eyes and Howard knew it, but there was little he could do in the face of Jason’s stubbornness.
“Well, I’ve got a meeting anyway. Some new club’s opening night is coming up, could be a regular gig if it goes well,” he sighed. Jason bent his head and kissed Howard’s forehead. Howard nodded in recognition of that silent gratitude, then pushed himself away from the worktop, going round to sit down at the breakfast bar instead.
“One day, love, God knows when, but one day, everything will just...be ok,” Jason sighed, his eyes cast downwards. After a moment he lifted his gaze and met Howard’s eyes, offering him a small smile.
“One day,” Howard agreed softly. He decided later that he didn’t believe that.
In Stoke, Gary’s mind was preoccupied with far less lofty thoughts as he struggled up the steep pathway that cut across the fields opposite the Britannia. After taking a dirt-track which split off from the canal path, Mark had led him past a large warehouse building and away to yet another poorly-paved track leading around vast expanses of fenced-off land and up into a greener part of town. There were ponies in one field and they watched Mark and Gary in puzzlement as the two men struggled up the steep slope. It was breezy up here and the sky somehow seemed bluer. Gary took a moment to pause, only slightly breathless, and look back at where they’d come from. The Britannia looked slightly more shimmery from this distance, more indistinct, reflecting somewhat brazenly back at him. Mark followed his eye-line with a grin and launched into some match-day anecdote or other. All Gary could think was how on earth any fans made it up this slope post-match.
“With a pie and a pint in ‘em?” he demanded of Mark, who simply laughed and shrugged.
“If it saves four quid on parking...” he smiled, holding open a gate for Gary and waving him through it enthusiastically.
“We’re not trespassing are we?” Gary asked in mild concern, looking around them nervously. The ponies were still watching, their dark eyes making Gary feel uncomfortable. Ponies seemed to dislike him, as a general rule, and the feeling was mutual.
“It’s a public footpath, it’s just the land either side that’s owned. Now come on, you’re the fitness freak in this relationship, do you think you could hurry it up a bit?”
“If we’re not trespassing, my dearest one, then why are you in such a rush?” Gary demanded, his tone laced with dry sarcasm that provoked a half-hearted glare from his husband.
“Because we’re not that far away now, through this gate here, up that track...turn right...” Mark had stopped and was looking up the track with a pensive expression. Gary put a hand to the small of his back and kissed his temple.
“Something wrong?” he asked gently.
“No...it’s just...it’s weird being back, you know? Last time I was here, on my days off I’d walk up and down here. Just grab my iPod and go.”
“Sounds like a nice walk.”
“It was, in a way. But it was hell too. All I could do was think about you...”
“Charming,” Gary laughed softly, bending his head to place another kiss to Mark’s skin, nuzzling into the crook of his neck with an affectionate smile.
“What I mean is...I thought it was over. And that it was my fault. You’re a better person than me, you know that?” Mark sighed. Gary squeezed his shoulders slightly.
“Everyone has done things they’re not proud of, Marko. I seem to remember it wasn’t so long ago that I was so blind-driven I was prepared to cut you and Jay and Howard loose, just like that, for the sake of what I wanted.”
“You’re still a better person. What I did was worse...and I’m not sure I should be forgiven just because people like my smile,” Mark frowned and Gary let out a long sigh.
“That’s not why I forgave you. I forgave you because I believed your apology. Because I know you never really meant for things to spiral out of control the way they did. Because I know that, in a way, it wasn’t you. You got buried under a layer of other things...but you got out. And if I have this place to thank for it in some way or another? Then I love this place. And you should too.” Gary kissed the back of Mark’s head and then made a move to step around him, glancing back and offering out his hand. Mark smiled at him thoughtfully then nodded, taking the offered hand gratefully.
At the top of the track Mark took the lead once more, edging ahead of Gary and slipping through an open gate out onto the pavement beyond. Gary glanced around at the houses; respectable sort of places, the kind of small-but-roomy houses that, in most cities, no part-time waiter would be able to afford. Mark led Gary along to the end of the row, nodding to a slightly-more rundown house than the others with a rueful smile. There was no car in this drive and Gary noted, with a chuckle, that it was the only house on the row with no window-sticker or flag emblazoned with the Stoke City logo. Mark, who was fishing in his bag for his spare key, read Gary’s expression and bit back a laugh.
“Yeah, this is a fairly Stoke City area in general. Most supporters of Stoke’s Other Team don’t live in this part of town, Burslem is their end. I mean, they’re spread about, but still...most of them can’t see the Britannia from their bedroom windows. Rob does enjoy a bit of controversy though. I think he lives for the drama, keeps him entertained...” he trailed off and shrugged lightly, though amusement still danced in his eyes.
“I suppose the neighbours just count their blessings that he’s not flying the rival flag more overtly,” Gary remarked. Mark paused, the key halfway to the door, a guilty expression marring his open face.
“Actually...”
“Oh tell me he doesn’t...” Gary grimaced and Mark smirked back at him.
“Every time they lose a match and Port Vale win,” he admitted, pushing open the door then quickly beckoning Gary inside after him. Gary raised an eyebrow.
“Should we really just...let ourselves in like this?” he questioned, taking a cautious step towards the door. Mark was bending to pick up some mail from the hall floor and he flashed a casual smile at Gary over his shoulder.
“Rob said we could. Besides, there’s a good chance he won’t even be...oh...” Mark stopped, a frown suddenly creasing his features.
“What is it?” Gary was quick to come up behind Mark then, putting a protective hand to the small of his back and trying to peer over his shoulder into the dim hallway beyond.
“Nothing it’s just...the phone and those keys...” Mark gestured to where a dish of keys lay upturned beside a broken house-phone. Both were on the floor, by the small table which they usually sat on, and Mark felt something twisting in the pit of his stomach. It was as if someone had brushed the table clear in anger. He bit his lip.
“Come on, let’s find Rob,” he whispered, gripping Gary’s hand tightly in his own as he headed for the living room door, which was standing slightly ajar, the sound of the television drifting out.
Mark pushed the door open tentatively, poking his head into the room before he’d let Gary come in. Gary, meanwhile, was far from oblivious to the shade of grey Mark’s skin turned as he took in the room before him. Besides, he was surprised they hadn’t been able to smell the alcohol from the street. Mark was gnawing fiercely at his lip, reluctant to let Gary any closer, but Gary was having none of it and he let go of Mark’s hand, coming to stand just behind him. The room was a mess; everything that had once been on the shelves in the corner was now strewn across the carpet, mingling with a number of empty cans and bottles which had, at some point or another, contained alcoholic beverages of varying strengths. The TV was blaring away to itself, despite a sofa cushion having been thrown in front of it. And in the middle of it all sat Robbie Williams, his hand clutching a bottle of something unappealing, his eyes slightly unfocused as he slowly drew them upwards to regard his visitors. A lopsided smile spread across his lips, though his eyes darkened.
“Gary Barlow and Mark Owen! Just the people I’ve been waiting for!” he declared. Mark swallowed hard, just about managing to hide his wince at Robbie’s slurred words.
“Gaz, could you go and get some coffee please? The kitchen’s just across the hallway, you can’t miss it,” he said very softly, trying to prevent Robbie from hearing him.
“Coffee?! You’re my guests! I should be doing the drinks! There’s another bottle round here somewhere...” Robbie was insisting but Mark wasn’t looking, his eyes instead fixed pleadingly on Gary, who shook his head slowly.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him like this.”
“Gaz, I’ll be fine. Just get the coffee, ok? Let me try and talk to him.”
Gary didn’t want to leave Mark alone with Robbie. Whilst he had gained a respect for the younger man over their time working together, trusting him was a very different thing. Robbie had hurt Mark in ways no other person ever had. Of course, he’d not hurt Mark as much as he’d loved Mark, but to Gary the damage done was hard to forgive. He had to admit though, Mark had a way with Robbie, charmed a softer version of him out into the open. Robbie, unlike Gary, had learnt to harden himself from a young age, for a lot of reasons, but Mark could make him drop his defences. That dubious talent of his surfacing again; his rounded face and his bright grey-green eyes catching people off guard. Mark had settled himself on the arm of the sofa already, his movements slow and tentative, but still somehow purposeful. He knew what he was doing. Gary turned slowly, reluctant but resigned. Mark had them both wrapped around his little finger, it would seem.
He spotted the door to the kitchen and made a beeline for it. A sparse and slightly old-fashioned kitchen, no signs of much real cookery happening in there, not that Gary felt he had much room to criticise. For a moment Gary paused in the centre of the room, thinking briefly that this situation was more for Jason than him; a kitchen to tidy, a person to counsel. But Jason had his own problems to deal with, he sighed. After rooting through a few cupboards he found the raw materials he needed and set to work, scouring about for mugs and teaspoons as he went. He hardly noticed Mark appearing in the kitchen doorway.
Mark stood in silence a moment, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes staring off into middle distance, then slowly he pushed himself forwards and went over to join Gary by the kettle, startling him slightly. Gary took in Mark’s dejected look and stilled.
“Not going well?” he asked softly, cupping Mark’s face in his hand. Mark closed his eyes and let out a long breath, leaning back against the kitchen counter before looking up to meet Gary’s eyes.
“I’ve not seen him like this in a long time, Gaz. And when I say a long time...I mean decades. I didn’t even know he’d started drinking again...” he murmured. Gary inclined his head slightly.
“I don’t know if this makes it better or worse but...looking around his kitchen? Doesn’t look to me like he usually keeps any alcohol in here. My guess would be something’s set him off.”
“Yeah. I wondered about that. He sounded sober when I phoned him Sunday night...and, judging by the mess in the hall, all this started with the phone anyway,” Mark sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and groaning slightly.
“Maybe he got the wrong idea when you called, thought we were coming down here to give him a hard time or something,” Gary suggested, rubbing Mark’s back soothingly. Mark simply nodded.
“Sounds like Rob. You know, with him...all it takes is to get him at the wrong moment. He’s so....so hard to predict, so changeable. We’ve got to talk him down somehow, Gaz, sober him up, then tell him why we’re really here. We’ve got to fix this.”
“If that’s what you think is best,” Gary agreed gently, his blue eyes meeting Mark’s for a moment, a reassuring smile on his face. Mark’s lips quirked up and he leant across to give Gary’s lips a quick peck of gratitude.
“I do.”
“Good, coz the coffee’s ready.”
“Perfect. Hey, if you reach into that cupboard there you should find where Rob keeps the biscuits. Although Rob only ever buys Jammy Dodgers I’m afraid,” Mark said, nodding to a cupboard behind Gary, a slightly mischievous look lighting his eyes for a moment as Gary grimaced.
“Jammy Dodgers? With tea? Robbie Williams has a lot to learn about suitable dunking biscuits,” Gary muttered softly and Mark chuckled. “What?!” Gary pressed as he found the biscuit tin and inspected its contents. Mark shook his head, his eyes still watching Gary in amusement.
“Nothing, I just...it’s just you and Rob. You know you two are so alike that sometimes I forget what opposites you are,” he shrugged. Gary raised an eyebrow.
“Come again?!” he laughed.
“Yours and Rob’s problem is you’re both too similar. It’s why you clash sometimes I think. You’re both driven, ambitious...and that makes you both want to...I don’t know, have control, I guess? Or at least, you both want to be sure you are at the centre of any given situation. And music means everything to both of you too.”
“We both have our demons,” Gary put in softly. Mark smiled a sad smile and nodded.
“Yeah. Except you’re better equipped to handle yours I think. Plus...Robbie’s demons have so much more of a grip on him than yours ever did. You’re not a depressive personality, you can keep your head above water when you have to...but Rob...”
“Doesn’t,” Gary supplied simply. Mark nodded again, looking away.
“That’s one of the reasons you’re so different. The pair of you are both prepared to work hard for what you want, and the daft thing is you both want the same things...but you’ll argue about everything else along the way. Same destination, different flight plans. You have different tastes. And different outlooks, different opinions, different ideas...”
“Different biscuits,” Gary smiled ruefully and Mark laughed.
“Yeah, that too.”
“I’m prepared to expand my horizons though, Markie. I...I really have enjoyed working with him. There’s enough common ground there for it to work. And I want it to. Work, that is. Sometimes I think I want it more than the rest of us. But I do want it so badly, Mark, for all five of us.”
“I know you do, Gaz. But what I’m worried about is...does he?”
Chapter Four: Tuesday, Early Afternoon
It was just another Tuesday. The rain was pit-patting on the glass of the city, a damp summer siege on Manchester’s streets. On Oldham Street there were the usual muttered exchanges. Have you seen this rain, someone would ask. Round here it never rains but it pours, someone else would reply as they put up their umbrella and stepped out into the deluge, back bent and eyes narrowed, marching across the puddle-dappled pavement in front of Barlow’s Music Shop. From inside Jason watched them, smiling slightly and shaking his head. He wasn’t like Howard, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the rain. He sighed a long sigh and turned away from the shop window, heading back to his tea which was slowly going cold on the counter.
It was darker in the shop’s side-room, the sound of the rain fainter, but Jason liked the peace. He leant against the counter and picked up his tea, taking a sip and closing his eyes. Pitter-pat, pitter-pat...he’d almost drifted off when the sound of his mobile jarred him back. Howard – the only reason Jason could think of in that moment for tolerating reality.
“Afternoon, love,” he greeted softly, pulling himself up to sit on the counter.
“I miss you,” Howard responded with equal tenderness and Jason’s lips curved up.
“You old romantic. How’d your meeting go?”
“The usual. They’re going to call back sometime next week. How’s the shop?”
“Quiet. Just another Tuesday in another Manchester summer. I sold some records to one of our regular collectors and a woman came in and bought that antique cello. I called Skippy, he’s going to come back and pick it up for delivery later,” Jason shrugged, trapping his phone between his ear and his shoulder and reaching for his tea once more. He knew Howard better than to think this was a call about the welfare of Gary’s shop. There was a pause before Howard spoke again.
“And how’s my husband?” he asked at last. Jason could hear the sympathy there, and from anyone else it would have bothered him. He hated being patronised at the best of times, never mind when he felt genuinely vulnerable. But from Howard it was different. He wavered and quickly broke. He wanted to waver and break. He wanted to hear someone telling him it was all going to be ok for a change. He closed his eyes.
“I’ve had better days.”
“I’m coming over.”
“How, you don’t have to do that...”
“I’m coming, no arguments,” Howard insisted and Jason smiled.
“Ok. No arguments,” repeated quietly. Howard appreciated his stubborn husband’s unusually easy surrender, although it troubled him in equal measure.
“Good. See you in about an hour then?”
“Ok. See you then.”
“Oh, and Jay?”
“Mm?”
“Everything is going to be ok, ok?”
“Don’t know where, don’t know when,” Jason laughed sadly.
“You sound like you need a hug,” Howard murmured and Jason could only smile.
“Yeah well, you sound like you need to hurry up and get here.”
“Point taken. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Oh, and Howard?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Howard’s interruption was easy to forgive, and Jason was grateful for the calm that one phone call was able to instil in him. But his calm was short-lived. Interruption was a way of life at Barlow’s Music Shop, Jason thought. Although he only thought it much later, and only ever after one-too-many glasses of wine. But the thought was there, nevertheless. Because it had been just another Tuesday really. Until the shop’s phone rang.
“Barlow’s Music Shop, how can I help you?”
“Jay, can we talk?”
“Please, Rob, just drink the coffee.” Mark edged closer to Robbie, placing a hand on his shoulder that the taller man easily shook off.
“No, I don’t want to drink the fucking coffee, I’m fucking fine so just fuck off and leave me alone,” Robbie muttered back through clenched teeth. Mark wrinkled his nose at the smell of alcohol, stale on Robbie’s breath.
“You don’t sound fine, Rob,” Gary pointed out softly.
“Oh you can fuck off an’ all,” Robbie spat back at him.
“Rob, please, we just want to talk...” Mark tried.
“No, no you don’t want to talk. People don’t book train tickets just to have a casual chin-wag, Markie. I’m not a fucking idiot.” Robbie knew rejection well, had seen it often, but he wouldn’t stand for it. He’d never taken it well and he’d never tolerated it, he wouldn’t make an exception now. Not for Gary Barlow, not even for Mark Owen.
“Rob, please,” Mark whispered softly. He was perched on the sofa at Robbie’s side, his eyebrows knitted together in concern whilst Gary stood back a little, watching the exchange nervously. He hadn’t once seen Robbie like this, even when their writing sessions had taken a turn for the worse the younger man had, for the most part, held his temper. He and Jason had argued for half-an-hour on one day, over some lyric or title or phrasing that Gary couldn’t remember, but a voice had never once been raised. Jason had sat in a corner, messing quietly with his guitar for ten minutes or so whilst Robbie had sat down with Mark and Gary and an hour later the whole thing had been over. Gary wished this situation could be so easily resolved. Robbie’s eyes were far too wild though and Gary realised, when unleashed, Robbie could either be brilliant or dangerous. There were no real in-betweens with this man; energy or darkness, genius or madman. Ordinary was an insult to Robbie Williams. Under different circumstances it would’ve been fascinating, but standing this close it was simply frightening, enchantingly so.
“Come on, Mark, we should go...” Gary began, but Robbie’s blazing blue eyes turned on him at that.
“No, see, no, you don’t get to decide that, Gaz. You’re on my turf now. Home advantage, so don’t you even fucking dare! Why should everything have to be your way all the time anyway? Don’t the rest of ‘em have voices? Come on, Markie, speak up, or has this bastard got your tongue?” Rob rose to his feet, baring his teeth as he spoke. He swayed a little at his new altitude and for a moment, as he brain tried to catch up with his body, he wondered why he was doing this. Shouldn’t he hear them out? But no. He wouldn’t be made a fool of, he would come out of this looking better than the both of them. The logic was drunken, but it was logic enough for him. Suddenly Mark was standing too, trying to form a barrier between Robbie and Gary, placing his hands gently against Robbie’s chest, his eyes revealing disappointment and pain.
“Rob, don’t do that, please don’t do that...Gaz isn’t the villain, ok? Please, Rob, just drink the coffee and then we can talk about this...” Mark hadn’t pleaded with him like this since...since...Robbie almost winced. Mark hadn’t pleaded with him like this since the last time he’d been this drunk, since he’d screwed up that final time and walked out on their relationship. Maybe that single decision had sealed his fate; Robbie Williams the drop-out. The screw-up. The second choice. Well screw that.
“Talk about what, Markie? I get it. I’m out. I didn’t meet Gary Barlow’s high fucking standards. I know why you’re here, and I don’t want to listen to your excuses, so just go. Or stay. Who fucking cares anymore. All I know is Gary Barlow wants me out. So I’m leaving before he can have the satisfaction of telling me to.”
“I don’t want you out, Rob, and that’s not why we’re here.” Gary was so calm that for a moment it seemed like Robbie might lose his sting. He looked Gary in the eye and there was a flash of childish fear there, somewhere beneath the fuzz of alcohol – Gary almost thought he looked like a scolded toddler that didn’t really understand what it was he’d done wrong. And then he looked away.
“Fuck off,” Robbie slurred under his breath. He brushed Mark’s hands away and squared his shoulders, slowly looking back up at Gary from the corner of his eye.
“Marko, could you get those files out of your bag for me.” Gary was talking softly, still looking straight at Robbie, emotionless. Mark looked at Robbie too then, his eyes sad. He’d been let down, he’d bet on Robbie just like he always did, and Robbie had let him down, just like he always used to.
“I thought things were different now, Rob,” Mark sighed before turning away. For a moment Robbie’s gaze followed him, watching him move over to the armchair and pick up his bag. Then he looked back over to Gary, jutting his chin out in petulant defiance.
“Go on then, kick me out of your band, Barlow. Won’t change the fact that Mark will always be just a little bit mine. Won’t change the fact that all those songs I wrote all by myself are better than anything you could do without Mark, Jay and Howard’s help.”
“Rob, don’t,” Mark warned. Don’t attack Gary’s music, don’t reopen Gary’s wounds. Mark wished Robbie could see that Gary had been rejected too, that the fear of rejection was something both of them shared, something that shaped the pair of them more than either seemed willing to admit.
“It’s fine, Marko,” Gary said quietly and Robbie couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Oh come on, you’re fine with that? You’re fine with the fact that nothing you do – no amount of kicking me out of your band – will make you superior to me?” Robbie asked and Gary sighed.
“This isn’t about power, Rob.”
“Like fuck it isn’t.”
“It really isn’t, Rob. But if that’s how you feel, then maybe we should go after all,” Gary said, shaking his head and turning to leave. Seeing Gary turn away from him, Robbie’s anger flared; he’d wanted a reaction. A different reaction. He thrived on reaction, needed it. And Gary wasn’t playing his game. His fist flew before he’d really thought what he was doing. But Mark knew him too well not to notice – he’d seen it before, a long time ago. He hadn’t wanted to see it again. He refused to see it again.
“Rob, don’t!” Mark’s warning was louder this time, more frantic, and he darted across the room, coming between Robbie and Gary just in time to grab Robbie’s fist with both his hands. When Gary turned round, he saw the force of Robbie’s swing send Mark toppling down. The glass coffee table shattered beneath Mark’s weight and Robbie gaped at what he had done.
“Mark...” he whispered. Mark looked up at him with eyes which were threatening tears.
“I said don’t,” Mark whispered. He swallowed hard and looked away. Gary knelt down at his side, checking him for cuts, but he found none and he breathed a sigh of relief before glancing back up to the shell-shocked Robbie.
“We’re going. Come on, Mark, we need to get you out of here...” Gary was fussing slightly but Mark shook him off. There was a single tear running down his cheek but his face had hardened somewhat and he was shaking his head determinedly.
“No,” he said firmly. Gary blinked in surprise as Mark picked himself up from the glass-strewn floor and walked back over to his bag, retrieving a folder bursting with papers from inside it. He crossed the room once more and stood before Robbie, his chin tilted up.
“Look at what he did for you, Rob. And this is how you repay him.” Mark threw down the papers on the sofa and Robbie looked down. His heart stuttered. Of all the things he thought he might see there, Progress had not been one of them.
Ever since they were babies, the Orange Twins had been getting each other into trouble. That had been the way of things since before either of them could remember. It was their mother who had first noticed that the twenty minutes that separated the two of them had made a noticeable difference, however, just a few months after bringing them home from the hospital. It was a Saturday afternoon and she’d had her hands far too full with her eldest son to be dealing with the twins as well. Baby Justin had begun to howl his lungs out only to be promptly thwacked on the head by a strangely authoritative-looking Baby Jason, whose chubby face had broken out into a satisfied smile when his twin’s screeching immediately ceased. He’d looked up at Jenny Orange then as if to say ‘I’ll deal with him mum, now you put your feet up’ and, slightly dazed, their mother had left them to it. That day was the day she realised that Jason was going to be the more responsible of the two, was always going to be the boss and, some days, she had found herself wondering just how much trouble that would lead to in the future. Jason, for his part, had not chosen to prove his mother wrong. Sure, he got into his scrapes and Jenny had had to yell ‘Jason Thomas Orange, what do you think you’re doing?’ more than once in his lifetime, but for the most part he looked after his brothers – and often his mother. Though there was no one Jason looked out for more so than his twin. He took the blame from time to time, sided with him in the odd doomed battle, covered for him even when his conscience told him he shouldn’t. And, of course, he chose to be his partner in crime more than once. Double Trouble, everyone always said when they exchanged those twin grins of theirs. Those two, young, mischievous, thick-as-thieves boys never imagined what it would all lead to when they were older, yet now here they were; two grown men, engaged in this awkward tug-of-war. Justin grew up. But Jason didn’t relinquish his role as the elder brother easily.
“That was quick.”
“I was parked up the road when I called you...I’m worried about you, Jay.”
“It’s not your job to worry about me, Justin. It’s your job to get on with your life and let me come to you if I need you,” Jason sighed heavily, pulling himself up to sit on the counter and looking over at his brother. Justin had a strange expression on his face, one that Jason wasn’t used to. Normally he and Justin could read each other well, sometimes they didn’t even need to look at each other to know how they were feeling. But somewhere along the way the connection had faded. It was a recent thing, Jason supposed, examining his brother’s eyes. Just as blue and beady as his own. Justin stared straight back at him, his face somewhere between concern and anger. He was more convinced than ever now that Jason had inherited the bulk of the family stubbornness.
“Jay, will you please stop trying to protect me and let me protect you for a change? I’m worried about you. I’m not the kid you used to bust out of detention and sneak answers to in lessons, you know? And honestly I think it’s time you let me repay some of those favours,” Justin said softly, stepping a little further into the room. More and more over the past few months he had begun to feel like he and Jason were standing at opposite sides of the city when they talked., trying and failing to make themselves understood over the noise of traffic and chatter. He wanted their closeness back so badly, but he could already see Jason starting to shake his head as though to preserve the distance.
“Justin...”he began but Justin put up a hand to top him.
“No, Jay, don’t do that, don’t brush me off. Who are you even protecting anymore? Jay, we’re all grateful to you for holding it together when dad left, we all appreciate what you did for us and for mum, but it was a long time ago. There’s no one to be strong for anymore, we’re all big boys, we can handle ourselves. So stop being so fucking noble and tell me what’s going on with you these days!” Justin paused, biting him lip then glancing down at his hands. “I spoke to dad last night...”
“You spoke to dad?”
“Jay...”
“No, Justin, look, if you want to know what’s going on with me then ask me, don’t ask dad, he really doesn’t know me half as well as he thinks he does.”
“Jay, I thought we were past this...” Justin groaned, seeing the conversation getting away from him and wishing he’d found a better way of approaching this subject. Jason was notoriously difficult when he wanted to be. People who’d known him a day would either think him an angel or a bastard, there were few in-betweens; if he was having bad day he would struggle to hide it, but if he was having a good day...the wattage of his smile could blind people. But there was no smile today. Today there was grit and bullish pride.
“I will never be ‘past this’, Justin. Have you forgotten what it was like?”
“Of course not, Jay. But dad’s suffered too. And you and him – all of us – were getting really close again. Or I thought it was close. But now he’s telling me you’ve turned on him and that Howard threw him out of your place...”
“Howard didn’t throw him out, he asked him to leave.”
“Oh and that’s so much better is it, Jay? That’s our dad! Howard has no right...” Justin stopped instantly when Jason jumped back down from the counter, eyes flashing fiercely.
“Howard has every right, Justin – that’s his home. Our home. He’s my husband, Justin! And he would never have got involved anyway if dad hadn’t pushed me so hard.” Jason stared Justin down until his twin let out a long sigh, put up his hands in mock-surrender and finally looked away. Jason had always been the one to win their staring contests and Justin knew when he was beaten.
“Jay, I’m just saying that...”
“Well don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t ‘just say’ and try just listening; I’m ok. And if I wasn’t? It wouldn’t because of Howard, it would be because of you and dad and the rest of the family trying to tell me what I’m feeling when they don’t have a clue,” Jason all but growled before closing his eyes a moment and trying to swallow the defensive anger that crept up through his body when Justin mentioned Howard. Howard. He kept thinking his name over and over. It calmed him a little and in that moment he wished more than ever that he and Justin still had that peculiar ability of theirs to just understand what was going on in each other’s heads. Justin was studying him again, he could feel his gaze, and he wanted to get away.
“Jay...he’s changed you, you know? And I don’t know if that’s a good thing...”
“Howard hasn’t changed me, Justin, life has changed me. And Howard is one of the only people in the world who can see that...who can see everything I was and am and he loves me for it.”
“But does he, Jay? Are you sure? You sure he doesn’t just love that he can control you?” Justin pressed and, to his surprise, Jason laughed. His eyes sparkled briefly and he looked up at him, a genuine smile still on his lips.
“Please – Howard? You think Howard wants control over anything? My husband? He’s so laid back he’s practically horizontal! The last thing he wants is to take charge. The only time Howard will ever willingly take control of a situation is when I ask him to. He does that for me even though he hates it, because when I say I need him, he actually cares.”
“But what about Germany, Jay?”
“Justin, tell me you know me better than this...”
“He took you totally away from us, away from Manchester, away from everything, to another country, and for what?”
“For an opportunity. And it didn’t work out, but...I remember the good bits not the bad. And anyway, Justin, come on, you know me, I wouldn’t have gone with him if I didn’t want to. I went because he would’ve done the same for me.”
“Fine, but what about the apartment?” Justin continued and Jason frowned.
“Our home, you mean? What about it?”
“This all started when he bought that place...”
“Justin, you’re being ridiculous! He bought the apartment for me.”
“And are you really telling me that he hasn’t found ways to make you repay the favour?” Justin demanded. Jason felt both laughter and tears rising up within him and he smiled a distant sort of smile, looking down and avoiding his brother’s eyes.
“Sure, he had his own...suggestions, about what I might like to reward him with. But trust me on this one, Justin, I didn’t mind. I actually enjoyed it. He made me laugh about it...he always makes me laugh when I least expect him to,” he murmured. Justin gritted his teeth, letting out a frustrated grunt and folding his arms.
“What about the deeds though, Jay? Whose name did he put them in? His? What happens if he leaves you? You’ll have no home and we’ll be the ones who have to pick up the pieces.”
“He won’t leave me.”
“How can you be so sure, Jay?”
“I just am.”
“After everything mum and dad went through, how can you...” Justin began but Jason’s eyes sparked back to life before he could get the sentence out.
“After everything mum and dad went through, Justin, I wouldn’t be married at all if I wasn’t sure.”
“But Jay, I just...you’re not like you used to be, ok? And I have to worry because you used to be so sure of yourself and I feel like he...” Justin trailed off, looking at his brother pleadingly. But Jason’s head was bent and he was staring off to a point somewhere over Justin’s shoulder. “I just want my twin back.” Jason didn’t show any sign he’d heard the words and, after a moment of silence, he turned his head to look back at Justin, his eyes dull but glinting slightly from unshed tears.
“He put the deeds in my name.” Jason hardly raised his voice from a whisper.
“What?” Justin frowned.
“Howard put the deeds to the apartment in my name. Just mine. Unprompted. You know, Justin, if you ever talked to him properly, you’d see he...he’s just the best person...the best I know anyway.” And with that Jason pushed past Justin, walking across the shop floor and hurrying out into the street.
Howard slammed the car door shut and pocketed his keys, narrowly avoiding a puddle as he made his way off down the road. The rain was beginning to get heavier now and he squinted against it, tugging sulkily at the hood of his hoody. He hated this rain, this unending summer rain. He could hear the puddles filling up around the city and he cursed under his breath as he felt the raindrops soaking into his shoes. He should be used to it by now, he supposed; the rain always did seep through. Later that night, when the sun had gone down and he was standing alone in silence, he couldn’t help contemplating if that rain had leached under his skin somehow, because sometimes he could swear he could feel it there, cold and grey.
As he turned down onto Oldham Street, the sound of someone shouting over the rain caught his attention and he looked up in confusion. Barlow’s Music Shop still looked strangely bright despite the weather – its red and gold front a sharp contrast to the dingy Mancunian sky above – and Howard’s eyes were drawn to it immediately. Jason’s slight form was disappearing into the distance, his footsteps meeting the beat of the rain perfectly as he hurried out of the shop’s door and headed the opposite way up the street. He didn’t spot Howard, too busy shouting over his shoulder.
“Leave it, Justin, just leave it.” Jason’s voice almost disappeared in the roar of the rain. Howard’s eyes moved to the doorway then. An uncertain-looking Justin Orange hovered there, not stepping out into the rain but not moving back into the shop either. Every muscle in Howard’s body tensed in an instant. His heart was tight, an unnervingly familiar sensation of falling overcoming him briefly. Things always go this way, Howard. Pitter-pat went the rain. Come on, don’t tell me you weren’t expecting it.
“He’s not worth this, Jay. He’s not worth losing your family over.” Howard stopped walking then. He couldn’t believe that Justin was trying to make Jason choose and for a moment his body ached as the full force of what Jason must be going through hit him so hard and so suddenly that it was as though someone had delivered a solid blow to his chest. He had to get to Jason.
Justin stepped down onto the pavement, about to go after his brother, when he noticed someone else on the street. Howard. His breath caught and briefly he felt guilty – he may not like Howard that much right now, but he didn’t want to be so harsh to his face. It occurred to him later that Howard had barely registered the personal insult, always more concerned with the impact of the words on Jason than himself, but in that moment he only saw the man who had turned his brother against them all. He pushed his unease aside, rounding on him to attempt to pick up the fight once more.
It happened when Justin was opening his mouth to speak. Both he and Howard heard it. Both he and Howard knew, somehow. A screech of tyres and the sound of crumpling metal. Broken glass. The fighting forgotten they had exchanged a glance. And then they ran.
It was a Tuesday. Just another in that long, Mancunian summer. But in amidst the damp, puddled tarmac of the city, everything had changed.
Chapter Five: Tuesday, Mid-Afternoon
All that stuff you read in books about the world standing still? Bullshit. Howard knew better than any one person ever should what it really felt like when some unstoppable force tore through a person’s life, uprooting everything. If anything, when it came down to it, the world moved too fast, surging around one frozen focal-point. Jason.
Justin came running up behind Howard, his thudding footsteps sounding strangely distant somehow. The split-splat of the puddles on the pavement echoed after each one, reverberating in Howard’s skull. He would’ve spared a moment to curse the weather one more time, but he was far beyond the point where cursing at the rain was enough. He wanted to set it on fire.
“Oh God,” Justin croaked behind him. Howard hardly heard him.
A woman was being helped from the car, dazed and bruised and murmuring frantically about not being able to do anything. Someone shushed her, whispering things they hoped were true.
“It wasn’t your fault, it’s this weather.” And those people gathered around who had abandoned their shops on Oldham Street and run up to the main road to assess the damage all turned to each other and repeated that phrase; round here it never rains but it pours. Someone moved towards where Jason lay, then spotted Howard across the way and stilled, lowering their eyes respectfully.
It was quite a sight. All that rain and broken glass. The battered car up on the pavement, its front end crushed against a lamppost, its windscreen smashed, glass and puddles littering the tarmac around it. And Jason. Howard’s vision flickered briefly and he found himself wondering; was this really the same city where they shared that first kiss? Could it really be that this grey, horrendous place had once been somewhere he’d loved? But even then it had been raining. And it was that thought that shone out the clearest in his mind. He despised the rain now. He despised this city.
“Jay.” It fell out. Soft and unexpected, neither hopeful nor despairing. More of an announcement of presence than anything else. I’ll let you call me Jay. He hated that he remembered everything. He knelt down slowly, hardly noticing the feeling of wet tarmac soaking his jeans and stinging his knees. He imagined that was what hell felt like; wet tarmac, sodden denim and raw knees. Someone behind was explaining to Justin what had happened, but Howard didn’t care to know. Jason was breathing, faintly. And cuts could heal, couldn’t they? Howard’s fingers brushed tentatively against the pattern of cuts arranged across Jason’s face. He could feel Jason’s blood against his skin – felt that more keenly than he felt his own tears as they began to trace lines down his cheeks. He licked the salt from his lips and let his hand rest against Jason’s warmth as the rain continued to fall around the two of them. He longed to be able to shelter him, protect him with his own body. Howard closed his eyes and bowed his head a moment.
When Howard opened his eyes again, it was Justin’s face which came into focus first. And, from some long-forgotten reserve of strength that Howard hadn’t had to call upon since those painful months when he hadn’t known if Jason was dead or alive, he found the muscle to fight with. If he couldn’t keep Jason safe or warm or dry, if he couldn’t keep Jason breathing, he could at least keep anymore pain away from him. Justin faltered slightly, not daring to come any closer as he saw the tight grip Howard had on his twin’s arm.
“Howard...” But Howard’s eyes were the stormy blue of a man who cared too passionately about his cause to back down easily.
“Go away. Just go away. Now.” Howard’s gaze dropped immediately then, turning back to Jason, whose fingers brushed his faintly. The movement was brief, but Howard looked at Jason as though he had just performed a ballet on that puddle-strewn street. Justin didn’t have the courage to speak again, though he didn’t leave either, simply hovering, a spectator in his own brother’s life. Just another one of the growing crowd that had gathered around the scene. Howard pressed a kiss to Jason’s forehead, murmuring things he couldn’t be sure were really words. Promises he couldn’t be sure meant anything at all.
Howard tried to move himself, attempting to keep people from staring too long at his husband’s thin form stretched out on the ground. His hands were covered in grit and dirt and there was rainwater dripping from the ends of his dark curls – it made no difference to him anymore. It could drown him for all he cared, so long as Jason made it to the surface with air in his lungs. He couldn’t look up, couldn’t look away. He’d felt Jason’s fingers move, all he had to do now was wait, he was sure. Jason would look up at him with those blue eyes of his. Stop fretting, he’d say. Pot, stop calling the kettle black please, Howard would reply. And they’d laugh and the rain would stop and they would be ok. Everything would be ok. And yet...
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sirens and he looked up, surprised to see how much had happened whilst he’d been sitting there, head bent, staring intently at Jason’s unmoving face. A police car had pulled up at some point and two tall, solemn-looking officers were moving people back, making calming noises and asking for information. On the other side of the road, one ambulance was already parked – the driver of the car was sitting wrapped in a blanket in the back being talked to by a paramedic – whilst a second ambulance was just pulling up, a female paramedic hopping out swiftly. Her male colleague jumped down shortly after, making his way to the other ambulance to get briefed on the situation with the driver whilst his partner continued on towards where Howard was sitting with Jason.
“Hello sweetheart, what’s your name?” She had a heart-shaped face and almond eyes and the fact she addressed the question to Jason touched Howard deeply.
“He’s Jason. Jay. He’s my husband,” Howard managed to murmur back, his own eyes not straying from Jason for long. He sniffed slightly and hoped the rain hid his tears and the paramedic smiled kindly, pretending not to notice the red-rims to his eyes.
“Husband, eh, well you did well for yourself. I’m Julie by the way, and this is Nick. Nick, this is Jason and his husband...”
“Howard.”
“Howard. Well, Howard, don’t you worry, ok? Jason is in good hands with us. Isn’t that right, Nick?” Julie smiled. Nick was kneeling down next to her, looking for all the world like a friendly giant. His big hands moved quickly as he helped Julie, his eyes briefly coming up to meet Howard’s before he looked back down once more.
“Really, Howard, just try to keep calm for us and we will be able to do a lot more for your husband, ok?” he said gently. Howard simply nodded, allowing Julie and Nick to exchange a few hushed words. Julie touched a hand to Jason’s face and let out a soft sound of affection.
“Poor love. Such a lovely face, wouldn’t you say Nick?” she enquired of her partner. Her hands were moving around Jason and, though Howard couldn’t work out what she was doing, he found he didn’t mind. Nick’s hands helped Julie – a wordless understanding between the two of them.
“Well I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed. And I’m straight,” he replied. Howard looked over at the man in surprise. He had such a jolly face, but there was a concentration in his eyes.
“Kick him out? Strap him to it more like. So lovely,” Julie insisted, flashing her kind eyes up to Howard in an effort to show her good intentions. Howard almost laughed.
“Don’t mind her, Howard, she’s always like this. Her way of cutting the tension,” Nick remarked softly and Howard smiled back with bittersweet fondness.
“Sounds like Jay,” he admitted. Julie paused a moment, glancing up at Howard then looking back down to Jason’s closed eyes. Everything about her was so kind, every movement and sound she made so tender and slow.
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” she murmured. Howard didn’t know which one of them she was talking to but he felt comforted by her nonetheless.
“Driver’s in shock, a little cut and bruised but she’ll be ok. By the sound of it this one took the brunt of the force...goodness knows why no one mentioned him in the original call...” Nick trailed off as he noticed Justin still hovering close by. “And you are...?”
“He’s nobody,” Howard cut in before Justin could speak. Nick nodded a little uncertainly and continued to help Julie.
“Now, Howard, I’m going to need you to stay here with Jason and keep him very still for me whilst Nick and I get some things from the ambulance, ok? We’re going to need to put him on a back-board and give him a neck-brace, but try not to let that scare you, promise me? It’s just precautionary.” Howard simply nodded, squeezing Jason’s hand tightly as the paramedics moved away.
“Make yourself useful, Justin, call Gaz and Mark, tell ‘em...just...just tell ‘em what’s happened.” He realised how gravelly his voice sounded against the backdrop of the rain, but he didn’t care. Justin should already be making calls, should already be trying to help...this was his mess. Jason would be safe if Justin had just stayed away. Howard couldn’t look at him as he spoke, scared that if he did then the rain would start whispering to him again. But would he really have been safe, Howard? Come on, you know this story. Justin didn’t bother to reply. He reached into his pocket for his mobile and then turned and walked away.
As Robbie reached for the smart yellow folder, bursting with papers, he realised his hand was shaking.
“What is this?” he breathed, running his hand down a tracklist, handwritten in marker pen and glued to the front of the folder. Mark’s gaze was all hot-anger and stinging disappointment and it gave Robbie the most peculiar burning sensation across his skin. He tried to duck the stare but it was impossible and, he thought, it was a rare show of force from the smaller man which would have impressed him had it been turned on anyone else.
“It’s a mock-up of a songbook,” Mark told him simply.
“We sent it to Jonathan, our manager. We posted that off with a bunch of other things we’ve done...we’ve been thinking about forming our own songwriting team, getting our names out there with the books and...and seeing if Jonathan could help get us a publishing deal,” Gary elaborated, a surprising softness in his tone. Robbie opened the file slowly, turning the pages and stroking his fingers along the neatly printed sheet music and accompanying lyrics. He recognised these songs.
“These are all...”
“The ones we wrote with you,” Mark finished for him and Robbie looked up.
“But...why?”
“Because we wanted you to be part of it. Because those songs are amazing. Because I – because we all – enjoyed working with you.” Robbie glanced over at Gary in disbelief, then slowly turned his gaze back to Mark, as though seeking confirmation.
“We didn’t tell the others about this...we wanted to come to you first. We didn’t want to rush you. Or get our hopes up either. Guess I never learn though...” Mark added quietly.
“But...but do you all want me?”
“Gaz and Jay and me, we all voted to keep you involved. Only Howard was against it.”
“Howard didn’t vote for me?” Robbie didn’t know why that was what he focused on. He guessed it was because he could cope a lot better with Howard’s rejection than with Mark’s disappointment.
“He said it wasn’t personal...he just thought you were too much of an uncertain quantity. I guess he was right and I was wrong.” Robbie looked up then. It was amazing how sobering Mark’s gaze could be – it was as though all the alcohol in his system had been burned away and all there was left to feel were the scorch marks where Mark’s eyes had glanced across his skin.
Gary’s phone ringing was the sound that finally broke the silence and he answered it quickly, hoping to get rid of whoever it was and try and talk this argument back to somewhere much calmer. But Gary’s hopes of resolution died quickly when he heard the voice at the other end of the line.
“What? When?” Mark looked over at that, finally breaking his staring contest with Robbie, his brow creasing in concern. “Ok, we’ll be back as soon as we can. I’ll see you later, Justin.”
“Justin?” Mark asked as Gary lowered the phone from his ear.
“Mark, we’ve got to go. There’s been an accident...Jay’s being taken to hospital. We’ve got to go. Now.”
In the small space of the back of the ambulance, Jason seemed somehow bigger. More robust, less likely to shatter. Jason’s strength was more obvious there than it had been out on the tarmac and Howard found an absurd comfort in that. He had to focus on that above all else – above the wail of the siren and the drumming of the rain on the roof and Julie’s hands fluttering about around Jason all the time. Howard was dripping all over her confined workspace but she didn’t complain, letting the rainwater splish-splash about their silent trio as it trickled from the ends of Howard’s curls. His intense blue stare went from her to Jason and back and something about the way his muscles tensed and un-tensed then tensed again made her sure he played the drums; she’d dated a drummer once, and he’d had just the same level of pent-up energy. She knew the only cure was for him to either bang something very hard or start throwing things, and she was grateful that he resisted the temptation. She didn’t begrudge him that severe stare though, not even as it bore into the top of her head. Julie begrudged no one anything and she could understand his mild distrust of her. After all, she suspected she’d already won more trust than many strangers would have done – something told her that anyone deemed by Howard to be suspicious would not even have been permitted to be this close, to separate the two of them in any way. Perhaps he and his poor husband would still be out on that wet tarmac now if Howard had decided it was for the better. Fierce, that’s what Howard was. And she admired the courage it was taking him to be so fierce in that moment.
The wordless space that Julie preserved for him allowed Howard time to disappear for a while, taking refuge inside his own head. He thought about a night a long time ago, before they were married and before the rain was their enemy. They’d been lying awake in the dark and Howard had had his arms wrapped around Jason’s stomach, his chin in the crook of his neck. And as he’d begun to kiss every inch of Jason’s exposed skin, Jason had begun to tell Howard all the things he was afraid of. And, somewhere amidst his stream of words, he’d sworn he’d never marry. Howard had simply kissed his shoulder and held him close and finally Jason had whispered back to him in that voice he saved for his most precious secrets ‘But, I think, if I do, How...then I’ll marry you.’
Howard blinked. And as the world shifted back into focus, he realised Julie was looking at him with those brown eyes of hers, pressing something metallic into his hand. He glanced down and frowned when he saw Jason’s wedding ring was now resting in his palm.
“The trauma unit have a job to do, an important one that I wouldn’t dream of criticising. I know that seconds mean everything in this line of work, for them it’s the difference between being the heroes or the villains. And, sometimes, little things get lost or damaged along the way. At the time they mean nothing, but to the people on the other side of those doors...I know they can mean a hell of a lot. Not as much as their loved one’s life but...just, keep that safe for him, ok? I think both of you want it in one piece when all this is over. I suspect your lovely Jason might even want it back.” Julie gave him a small smile, squeezing his arm gently then turning back to tend to Jason. Howard looked back down at the ring in his hand, running his thumb against the engraved inside.
“He swore he’d never get married.” Howard didn’t know why he said it. Julie’s brown eyes shone and somehow he knew she understood. He closed his hand around the ring and clasped it tightly. It was only then he noticed that on Jason’s finger, where the ring had been, there was a barely-noticeable band of paler skin. Howard almost wanted to laugh – a bitter, sad laugh but a laugh all the same – as he thought about it. The man who swore he’d never marry with a wedding band worn for so long it had become a part of him. Really, he and Jason...they had become extensions of each other. And what good has it done him? Howard closed his eyes tightly to stop a fresh onslaught of tears. Julie silently patted his knee, then respectfully she turned away.
When silence finally settled on them, they preserved it with stillness, their bodies curving together in one line along the small bed. Jason moved his head slightly. His hand was on top of Howard’s, whose arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, and he stroked his thumb against his skin.
“Now you know all my secrets,” he murmured into the peace. The stillness was thick and underscored by the steady patter of the rain outside. Somewhere in the distance a car alarm whined, but otherwise the city was quiet. Just another of those forgotten Manchester nights – there are a handful every year. Orange light lapped at their toes from the streetlamp outside. The two of them filled up Howard’s cramped bedroom, something about their intertwined limbs making them an altogether more infinite form, and Howard decided he liked this cluttered peace. Jason’s words were still fresh, all those wounds and scars that might never heal, all those promises broken and scattered across his past. And that strangely persistent hope that there could be someone better than that in the world – the strange part being that Jason thought Howard could be that better someone. It made him want to be better, to be someone who could preserve their un-silent silences, to be the person that could keep the world away rather than the person doing the hiding from it. He closed his eyes and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of Jason’s neck, then slowly grabbed onto the sheet that was tangled about their legs, pulling it up and up and up still further, even as Jason twisted his head slightly in trusting confusion. Jason turned over, fitting himself back into the concave of Howard’s chest and looking up into his eyes, his hand coming to rest on Howard’s upper arm. Howard looked back with determined blue eyes which shone in the shifting darkness. He drew the sheet up until it was over both of their heads. And there they were; safe. Preserved together in a world entirely their own. Howard cupped Jason’s face in his hand and in the shelter of the sheets Jason let slip a smile.
“I’ll guard your secrets with my life, Jay. I promise.”
Chapter Six: Tuesday, Late Afternoon
Gary and Mark had chosen a quiet-looking carriage near the end of the platform, dragging their hastily-packed luggage behind them in a solemn silence as they made their beeline, desperate for somewhere calm to lose their minds for a while before they found themselves back in the chaos of Manchester’s rain trying to be strong . Gary had helped Mark up and into the train and squeezed his hand tightly. Mark had only let go once they had found somewhere to sit, setting about biting his nails almost immediately. Gary let out a long sigh and looked out of the train window. There was a newspaper board on the platform outside bearing a headline which read ‘Bungling arsonist sets self alight’ and he found himself so absorbed in the mental image the words painted that it startled him a little when the train eventually began to pull away. Stoke-on-Trent was vanishing from view surprisingly quickly, but the memories of it were persistent in their vibrancy. To Mark’s mind they were frustratingly stubborn. Brazen, even. The wind on the hillside opposite the Britannia, the colours of the canal boats, the smell of the alcohol on Robbie’s breath. He watched the city disappearing behind them, his jaw clenched before eventually he turning away from the window. Gary’s blue eyes were so kind Mark wanted to cry when he found them fixed on him.
“Mark...”
“Don’t, Gaz, please.”
“We have to talk about this.”
“Gaz, please. Please don’t make me do this now...”
“You and me have a bad track record when we don’t talk about these things, Marko.”
“Gaz! Jay is...Jay is...hurt or...or we don’t even know what and Howard’s probably...look, just not now, ok? Not when Jay and Howard need us, not when everything’s falling apart anyway...” Mark ran one hand through his hair, trying to flash a polite smile at a man looking over his newspaper at them in mild concern. It came out as more of a grimace and Mark squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Gary’s eyes didn’t flicker though. Mark usually admired Gary’s grit, but not today.
“He didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” Gary was talking more gently now but it only made Mark feel worse and he finally met Gary’s eyes.
“No, he meant for you to get hurt, Gaz, and that’s not...that’s not ok.”
“He was drunk.”
“He shouldn’t even have been drinking, Gaz, he knows what that does to him! He told me he’d stopped, that he hadn’t even...” Mark trailed off, shaking his head slightly and scrunching up his face. Gary reached a hand across the table, making a grab for Mark’s hand and giving his fingers a firm squeeze. Mark closed his eyes.
“Marko,” Gary said gently, in that loving tone of his that always softened Mark’s will. There was a pause in which the train rattled all-too-loudly past another train and Mark looked back out of the window, trying to make out the faces in the strange blur of its carriages. The train hurtled away from them and Mark sighed, looking over to Gary at last.
“What, Gaz? It’s done. Jay should be our priority now. Rob is...Rob is an afterthought at best. With Jay and...and Howard...Rob shouldn’t ever have been more than an afterthought. Now he should be nothing at all.”
“But what exactly can we do to help Jay right now? Or even Howard?”
“Gaz...”
“No, don’t ‘Gaz’ me, because you know I’m right, Mark. You know Jay and Howard are like family to me, just as much as they are to you, and I feel ill just thinking about what they’re going through right now...but I can’t help them. Not when I’m stuck on this train. But I love you too. And you I can help right now. So let me help you.”
“There’s nothing to help me with, Gaz. It’s done. Rob...Rob proved the world right, he screwed up and he threw away a chance to prove them wrong. It’s done, it’s over. I’m out.”
“But Mark, he loves you.”
“He needs to get over me.”
“What, like Howard needs to get over Jay? Like you need to get over me?”
“It’s not the same, Gaz, he...me and him...”
“He loves you, Marko. He does. He loves you an incredible amount. And he loves music an incredible amount too. Enough to make stupid decisions sometimes...something you and me – and Jay and Howard, come to that – know a lot about too. Nothing is unforgiveable when it’s done for that sort of love. I don’t think so anyway.”
“I’m done making excuses for him, Gaz,” Mark protested weakly. Gary tilted his head, attempting to get Mark’s gaze back up to meet his own. But Mark simply closed his eyes.
“He loves you and he loves music. And I can’t help but empathise with that.”
“That doesn’t justify what he’s done.”
“He thought I was coming to take you and music away from him, Marko. In one swoop. He thought that the two things that make his life worth living were going to leave him in the dust, just like everything and everyone else. And that petrified him. So he fought for you. He fought for you the same way I would’ve done, and yet I know you’d forgive and forget if it had been me.” Mark shook his head slowly, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and letting go of Gary’s hand, leaning back in his seat. He looked out of the window and watched the blurring scenery before him. His whole body ached and all at once he felt the Mancunian rain and the Stoke-on-Trent wind mingling on his skin. A tear rolled down his cheek and Gary watched him in concern.
“Which one of them are you crying for, Marko?” he asked softly. Mark didn’t look up.
“For all of us, I think.”
The man in the corridor with the bowed head and eyes the colour of thunder – an unusual sight anywhere else, but not here. Here he was just another sad bastard having the worst day of his life. The uncertainty was almost a tangible thing in the hospital foyer. Hot and sticky. It was drying the raindrops which were still spattered across Howard’s skin. He ran a hand through his hair and flattened his back against the wall, eyes closed, head tipped upwards. One of many Mancunian blokes whose day was not turning out as planned, he supposed. Although he’s the only one with grit still sticking to his palms. To the staff the only thing that really marks him out is the resolute flash in his eyes; there’s a strength there of someone who has been dragged to the edge before and survived, a determination that if this time was the time he went down, then he was going to go down fighting. Julie had been impressed when she had managed to get him to stay that side of the doors without much argument, though later she reflected that, whilst he was a fierce one, there was a steely calmness to him too, an acute awareness that every action he made had to be judged on the effect it would have on his husband above all else. And she was certain he would have flown to the other side of the globe and waited there in silence if someone had told him that it would help them get his husband back in one piece.
A door opened and shut and Howard lifted his head briefly as a nurse appeared, her shoes squeaking loudly on the floor. He winced and turned away, looking over to the main entrance instead. There were people coming and going constantly, all of them seeming as though they came from some other place, some other version of Manchester which wasn’t constructed out of tarmac and glass, where it didn’t rain and uncertainty never lingered on the corners of the streets. It wasn’t until Justin appeared – his shoulders tense and his hair plastered to his head from the rain – that Howard realised there was at least one other man in the world still stuck inside this hideous summer. Somewhere in the back of his head Howard could hear the sound of Jason’s laugh; sorry, How, but I don’t think Justin’s come to lend you a brolly. Hadn’t Jason actually said that to him once? Howard felt something twang in his chest, like a guitar string plucked too suddenly, and the urge to cause a scene and demand to see his husband was momentarily stronger than his urge to keep calm. He swallowed it down and rubbed his hands over his face before letting out a long breath. No. He was being selfish. And besides, making a scene only ever worked for people in the movies, for everyone else it just got them chucked out of the hospital and made their loved ones feel disappointed in them when they woke up and were told the news.
Justin approached Howard quickly, though there was a nerviness to his step that made Howard feel almost proud. Almost, but not quite. After all, who exactly was winning in this situation? If it wasn’t Jason, then it couldn’t be Howard. But Justin didn’t look like a man who was triumphing over anyone either, his eyes a glassy grey and his brow creased.
“How is he? Did they tell you anything in the ambulance?” Howard noticed Justin’s effort to keep the panic from his voice and he almost smiled at it. For that moment at least, he realised, no one understood how Justin was feeling better than he did. No one understood how either of them was feeling better than each other. Howard looked down and shook his head slightly.
“Not much...she said she’d seen much worse, said she didn’t think there were any broken bones but they were worried about a head injury. Then they took him through there and I haven’t heard since,” Howard mumbled softly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor and nodding in the direction of the closed double doors which led to the hospital’s trauma unit. He had to close his eyes to fend off tears. Don’t make a scene, he repeated to himself in his head, digging his fingernails into his palm and avoiding looking at Justin, whose pained expression was the mirror of his own.
“I just don’t...I don’t even...he was arguing with me less than an hour ago.” Justin couldn’t quite comprehend how his day had come to this. Howard smiled sadly at that, still avoiding Justin’s eyes.
“Yeah well, he can be a right git when he wants to be,” he replied softly. The noise Justin made was neither a laugh nor a sob and he moved to lean against the wall next to Howard.
“Howard...I’m just trying to look out for him, you know?”
“I know. But so am I.”
The silence wasn’t entirely awkward. There was a shared understanding that, until Jason was awake again, eyes bright as he set about telling them both off severely, there was very little else of any importance. And both men were haunted by the sound of the rain. Eyes closed, both with heads tipped back, neither one of them noticed the double doors opening.
Doctor Whelan was one of the younger members of the trauma team, however he was also one of the best. He’d been heading up the afternoon shift when the call came through – the first serious incident of his day. Julie and Nick had both briefed him as best they could, but mostly the responsibility had been on his shoulders to assess and judge what action was for the best. He had been the man to take the decisions and, once those decisions had been taken, he had been the man charged with the responsibility of talking to his patient’s family. Only today, that job had become a lot more complicated. He glanced down at the file in his hands before moving to ask one of the nurses just who it was he was looking for.
“Excuse me, Mr. Donald? I’m Dr. Alex Whelan, I’m part of the trauma team here who have been looking after your husband.” Howard and Justin both opened their eyes, heads snapping round in unison.
“You’ve been with Jay? How is he?” Justin asked.
“Is everything ok?” Howard questioned more softly. Doctor Whelan looked down at his file.
“I’m right in thinking you are Mr. Orange’s partner?” Howard nodded.
“Can we see him yet?” Justin put in and once more Doctor Whelan avoided his gaze.
“A few years ago, your partner, Mr. Orange...”
“Jason,” Howard interrupted and Doctor Whelan nodded.
“A few years ago, Jason was asked by a police liaisons officer to attend victim’s counselling following a particularly traumatic case, correct? Involving a kidnapping?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Justin frowned and Howard felt both their hearts stutter slightly as memories flooded their bodies. Rain, more rain and uncertainty and rain. The only thing that stopped Howard drowning from the onslaught was the memory of Jason, half-laughing, half-crying into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. That day, the day he’d finally come back, had been the day that their puddled city had, for a little while at least, stopped feeling so wretched. But God, Jason had resented those counselling sessions. He’d made it to three before giving up and appointing Howard his counsellor. They’d pull the sheets up over their heads just like before, and he’d talk in whispers and Howard would kiss his forehead and hold him until he fell asleep.
“Did he tell you this?” Howard suddenly asked and Doctor Whelan let out a sigh.
“Your husband has yet to regain consciousness I’m afraid.”
“Then why are you asking about my brother’s counselling?” Justin put in.
“At the last of Jason’s sessions he put in a request, via the counsellor, to have his medical file altered so that, in the event of his own capacity being diminished, medical staff would be required to only divulge information and request decisions from those specifically named by him.”
“Meaning?” Howard could hear a nervousness in Justin’s tone and in the pit of his stomach he felt a small knot of guilt. Doctor Whelan looked uncomfortable – even a man of his experience didn’t quite know how to handle the task he had been charged with.
“I’m afraid I am only permitted to give out information regarding your brother’s condition to his mother and to Mr. Donald here.”
“But...why?” Justin whispered. Howard squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
“He stopped trusting people after...even I struggled with him, I had to fight sometimes. I guess he just...appreciated that I tried,” he whispered. Justin swallowed and nodded dumbly, his eyes glittering with tears.
“I’ll er...I’m just going to step outside and...and er...maybe I should phone a few more people. Try and get through to dad again...”
“Hey Trouble.”
“Hey Beautiful.” Howard kissed Jason’s shoulder as he pulled him still closer. Jason didn’t open his eyes or move to intertwine their arms further, but Howard knew the lack of resistance was a victory of sorts.
“Go to sleep, How.”
“Shan’t.” The corner of Jason’s lips quirked and Howard rewarded him with another kiss, this time to his cheek. Jason didn’t open his eyes, but he did let out a long breath, his muscles relaxing against Howard’s strong, broad-shouldered body. The sheet fluttered above them.
“You know, once upon a time, it was just me in this bed. In this apartment...inside my own head.”
“Do you miss it?” Howard propped himself up on his elbow, running his hand down Jason’s arm and then clasping their hands together. Jason didn’t flinch or pull his hand away, he simply lay there, contemplating the question as Howard peppered kisses along his shoulder and into the crook of his neck. He felt Howard’s curls brushing against his cheek and almost laughed.
“No.” Howard smiled slightly in the pause that followed and Jason opened his eyes, looking up into Howard’s face. “I can hardly even remember it anymore.” Howard touched a hand to his face, cupping his cheek then leaning in to kiss his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Jason smiled.
“Don’t be. This is the way I want it to be...when I’m actually thinking straight, this is the way I want it to be.”
The bustle of Manchester Piccadilly was overwhelming, and for a moment Mark wavered on his feet. Gary glanced back at him, his eyes concerned, and he put out a hand to steady him.
“Are you ok? Do you need to sit down a moment?” Mark shook his head and, although he was sceptical, Gary pressed on, tugging Mark behind him through the crowds and heading for the taxi rank. They were both aware of people’s eyes. Old women sitting in the coffee shop who had seen enough of the world recognise genuine anguish when it passed them, their eyes strangely kind and intrigued as the pair hurried past them with contained urgency. They had been alive too long to still live in fear of the uncertainty or the rain and they quietly turned their eyes away as Mark and Gary’s outlines merged back into the rest of the crowd.
By the time they reached the taxi queue, the squeezing sensation in Mark’s chest was becoming unbearable and he leant against Gary, his eyes tightly shut, his face contorted as though he were in pain. Gary wanted to have someone to lean against too, but this was the time he had to be strong for all of them. That much, he realised, he owed them. They had all done it for him before now.
“If Jay isn’t...if something happens to him...we should have been buried in rehearsals today, we could have been preparing to go on stage.”
“Markie, we talked about this...”
“We had a choice to make. And we made it without him and Howard.”
“Because Jay was going to be so thrilled at the idea of a documentary crew asking him questions about the Manchester music scene? Performing in front of them?”
“Gaz, I just...”
“No, Marko, we made the right choice. There are better ways to get your music heard.”
“Our friendship was supposed to be the most important thing though, we promised that after everything the four of us had been through...”
“The five of us,” Gary corrected Mark quietly. There was a pause and the two of them shuffled forward in the queue silently as another taxi pulled up.
“I just wish we’d been at the shop today, then maybe...” Mark stopped abruptly, shaking his head, determined not to imagine the worst but unable to stop himself. Gary placed a gentle hand on his back, kissing his forehead.
“Hey, come on. For all we know Jay could be sitting up in bed right now telling everyone off for making such a fuss about nothing.” Mark couldn’t help but laugh softly at the image.
“I wish I could believe that, Gaz. But if that was really a possibility, then why’d you have us rush all the way back here from Stoke?” Gary swallowed and looked down at his feet.
“Because I want to hear him say the words ‘You’re making too much fuss, get out’...then when he’s told me that, life can go back to normal.” Mark leant his head on Gary’s shoulder.
“Yeah. I think I’d like that too,” he replied.
Jenny Orange had seen her fair share of A&E and arguments. Her boys had never been ones for the quiet life and she had never been one to fall apart in the face of a crisis. But with this mess they seemed to have surpassed themselves. And in the middle of it all stood Howard Donald. Who, she realised as she watched him bracing himself against the wall and raking a hand through his hair, she had come to think of as one of her boys too. Just another son to worry about. She moved towards him swiftly, not really sure whether she was more concerned about what state Jason was in or about how Howard was dealing with it. The difficulty with Jason and Howard was that hurting one could trigger any number of reactions from the other, ranging from vicious anger to utter devastation and everything in between. Howard seemed to flicker along the scale even in the short time it took her to cross the room towards him. The feel of her gentle hand on his arm almost made him jump.
“Howard...” she stopped, her mouth still moving but the words not there for her to offer him. Tears briefly welled up in her eyes as she searched his face for any indication of how Jason was doing, but Howard simply seemed lost. “Justin told me about...Justin said...Howard, how is he?” She was almost whispering now, but Howard still visibly flinched as she spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he managed after a moment, looking down. Jenny took one of his hands in her own and squeezed it firmly.
“Howard Donald, you listen to me; my sons are stubborn and they are foolish and Jason is no better than any of them, ok? What he did and said, he did and said it because he wanted to and it is not your fault, you hear me? Besides, you know him better than anyone, what he did...it makes sense, in a way. Now come on, tell me what it was the doctor told you, ok?” Howard gave her a weak smile for that.
“Thank you.”
“Oh shush. My son adores you, Howard, and there is no one in this world who has done more for him than you. Now come on, be sensible, tell me what’s happening and how we can fix it, ok?” Jenny insisted and for a moment Howard wanted to laugh. She and Jason were so alike sometimes.
“The doctor said they had to do some...I dunno, scans? Tests? I didn’t really...he just said that there didn’t appear to be any broken bones...well, no, he’s fractured a rib, bruised some others but...he said that there was...he was...the cuts were superficial but...he said they found some internal bleeding from the...from the impact. Jay’s in surgery now but...but even if, even when, they get him through that they still don’t know if...” Howard faltered.
“If what?” Jenny was soft but firm, placing her hands on Howard’s shoulders and bringing his gaze to meet hers.
“They think that the head injury could be serious and they need to run some more tests before they can tell us what the real damage might be.” Howard closed his eyes then and Jenny felt tears threaten her own. She drew in a sharp breath and swallowed hard.
“You know, when he was four, he came in from playing with his brothers in the garden with this big gash in his forehead. And I started fretting, thinking I’d have to bring him in to A&E and wondering what to do with the others and if I could trust them to behave for me if I did...and he just looked up at me and he said ‘Mum, don’t worry about me’ and wandered off to clean himself up. He was back outside playing in half an hour.” Jenny glanced back at Howard and sighed, placing her hands either side of his face. “Come on now, don’t cry,” she murmured, though it was too late for that. Howard’s knees buckled and suddenly Jenny found herself supporting his weight, holding his head in her arms and shushing him gently.
Chapter Seven: Tuesday, Early Evening
Howard had been staring at his phone for at least ten minutes and Jenny watched him silently from the other side of the corridor, her brow creased in concern. She had managed to quiet him within minutes, though how much she herself had to do with it she couldn’t be sure. All the shushing in the world might not have been enough on a lesser man – but Howard was far from being a lesser man. Jason had tried to tell her that before now, but she’d found it hard to imagine then, hadn’t been able to help it. Before now all she had ever seen was a soft-hearted daydreamer who mumbled jokes into his chest and melted more easily than butter when her second-born rewarded him with a laugh, or better, a tease. Now, though, she could see something more in him, something that even his bleary eyes and bowed head couldn’t conceal. She saw in him a glimpse of what her son must see.
“Whoever they are, they’ll be more upset if you don’t tell them than if you do.” Howard jumped slightly as Jenny sat down beside him, then smiled tiredly and shook his head.
“You’ve met my daughter, Jenny, you know how much of a drama queen she is,” he sighed and Jenny couldn’t stop a fond smile from tingeing her lips.
“And you’ve met my boys, Howard, you know it takes a lot more than little Gracie to scare me,” she remarked, getting a small chuckle out of Howard.
“Maybe you’re right. I heard Justin on the phone to Oliver before...don’t get me wrong, Jen, I know this day is anything but ordinary, but trying to stop the Orange clan descending on this hospital and demanding to treat Jay themselves isn’t a job I’d wish on anyone.”
“Jay always protected Olly. He was the baby and Simon and Justin weren’t always as kind to him as they should’ve been. Dom and Sam, on the other hand...they didn’t always see the best of Jay, I must admit. I suppose they just knew which buttons to press. When Tony left, at first, all hell broke loose in our house. The boys were always arguing with me – and with each other – and they got at Jay a lot, because he would usually choose to side with me. But after a few years...after a few years they started to appreciate what he did for them a lot more. Simon was the big brother who’d have a laugh with them and get them into trouble, then Jason was the big brother who would get them out of that trouble and fix everything. They think I don’t know some of the things they got up to back then, but I know alright. And I know Jason helped them a lot more often than they deserved.”
“Did Jay tell you?”
“God, no. He wouldn’t break their confidence. And he never wanted to make me worry. But he’s not as clever as he thinks he is,” Jenny said, winking at Howard playfully.
“Yeah, he is a bit of a smart-arse,” Howard joked quietly and there was no fooling Jenny – she could see the affection in his eyes as he spoke.
“Maybe they appreciated what he did a little too much in the end. I know what it cost him to be strong, but they don’t...even though they should.”
“He’s not exactly tried his hardest to make them see.”
“Doesn’t want to relinquish that role of protector I suppose...because I know he enjoyed it. It wasn’t all selfless on his part, he liked being able to be the hero. And he definitely liked knowing he was right! God, Howard I’ve raised such a stubborn, silly lot, haven’t I?”
“Stubborn, maybe. Silly? I s’pose so, sometimes. But they’re not so bad, I don’t think.”
“Mm, you would say that though – you just think I did a good job with Jay!” Jenny said and Howard flashed her a brief grin.
“He’s alright, I guess.”
“From what I’ve heard you think he’s a bit more than alright, Howard Donald.”
“He’s incredible, actually. But please, don’t tell him that.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Jenny chuckled.
“I’m not sure it’s that much of a secret actually,” Howard admitted, looking down and smiling shyly into his chest. There was that soft-hearted daydreamer again, Jenny smiled.
“Well, either way, my boys aren’t all bad. Have they sent me up the walls with worry though? Definitely! Almost every week since they were born,” Jenny sighed, rolling her eyes fondly.
“Yeah, I think I’ve heard my mum say something similar,” Howard said softly and Jenny nodded.
“Then you can tell her from me she didn’t do such a bad job either. You’re a bit of a bruiser, Howard, but that’s what my son loves about you so it’s probably a good thing to have in a person.” Jenny paused and glanced over to where Justin was heading back in through the doors, shoving his phone in his pocket and looking hassled. She looked back at Howard and offered him a small, reassuring smile. “My sons always mean well, Howard. And Justin means well. His jealous streak is wider than the runway at Heathrow but...he never thought anyone would break Jay’s barriers down, thought he had a number one spot reserved at his side for life. And then you came in and...Jay has always been a smiler, Howard, but do you even know what it’s like seeing him with you? It’s him but with confetti and glitter.” Howard laughed slightly and shook his head, flicking his eyes up to Jenny.
“Confetti and glitter?!”
“Yes. You bring him to life, Howard. You take him from bright to dazzling.” Jenny was looking at him so fondly that Howard almost wanted to cry again and he looked away, letting out a long sigh.
“I don’t think it’s always a good thing, Jen. I bring out every single emotion in him, you know? Sometimes that lack of control just scares the hell out of him. He blames me for it. I know he does.”
“Maybe he does.” Jenny agreed, before leaning in closer to Howard, her eyes glittering. “But doesn’t he always forgive you in the morning?” Howard couldn’t help but smile at that. “So, now I’ve got you smiling...think you can call that daughter of yours? I want her to know what’s happening – she is part of our family, as much as Jason is. As much as you are.” Jenny patted Howard’s arm before getting up to leave. Howard waited until the sound of her footsteps had faded before getting up himself and heading outside with his phone.
“Morning.” Jason smiled fondly as he heard the voice on the other end of the line and he glanced up at the clock, raising an eyebrow when he noticed the time.
“It’s five past one, How,” he reminded gently, shaking his head as he moved over to the sofa.
“It’s a relative term, Jay. I was up ‘til five. If I ever take a gig in London on a Saturday night again, will you please have me sectioned?”
“I’ll try my best,” Jason laughed. “So, is that all you called to tell me or are there more pressing things on your mind?” Howard couldn’t hold back the smile that Jason’s playful tone coaxed out of him.
“Actually, I wanted to say thank you to you.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re welcome...but, just in case you’re not, would you care to elaborate?” Jason’s good mood was infectious and the mischievousness in his voice provoked rushes of warmth from Howard which started somewhere in the pit on his stomach and eventually grew into a broad grin the reached into the corners of his face. He lay back on his bed and let out a breath, trying to recover his head and not let Jason distract him too much.
“I just...I wanted to thank you for yesterday. I know I let Grace hijack things at the last minute but...you were brilliant and I just...just, thank you, ok?”
“Don’t be daft, How, it was fine. And anyway, we had fun. Me and Grace have an understanding,” Jason replied with a shrug. Howard had to laugh; something about the truth of the statement took him by surprise. On Saturday, when the party Grace was supposed to be going to had been cancelled unexpectedly, Howard hadn’t been entirely sure about how best to proceed. He had wanted desperately to avoid cancelling his date with Jason, but Grace didn’t have the best track record when it came to spending time with her parents’ dates. But when he had phoned Jason, he hadn’t even hesitated; ‘It’s fine, How. Look, I’ll be round at eleven. Grace can pick where we go and you can hold my hand in public. Sorted. I’ll see you later, ok?’ Howard had been hung up on then, left blinking at his phone, smiling bemusedly. And, sure enough, at eleven o’clock exactly, Jason had pulled up outside Howard’s flat, stopping by where Grace and Howard were waiting for him, shades on, eyes shining out behind them. Grace had run from Howard’s side to greet him and Howard had been forced to let her as he was still on the phone with a potential client at the time. He couldn’t quite concentrate on the rest of the call, however, too concerned with watching Jason and Grace talk, Jason all smiles and eyebrows and Grace all laugher and scrutinising gazes. By the time he had ended his call, Jason had persuaded Grace to get into his car and Howard was anxious about what warzone he might find when he climbed in. That was until he’d taken in the scene the greeted him as he shut the passenger door; Jason turning round in his seat as Grace whispered something to him conspiratorially. Howard looked between the two of them cautiously and slowly Jason glanced back at him, offering him a smile. ‘Apparently we’re off to the zoo. And you’re only allowed to kiss me if you buy Princess here some ice-cream’ Jason had informed Howard brightly before leaning in to steal a kiss. Howard had simply blinked and Jason had bit back a laugh and it was on that note that they’d driven off to spend a day in the sort of harmony that no previous date of his or Vicky’s could have dreamed of. Howard had been amazed; perhaps his daughter hadn’t been the one driving those dates away in the past, perhaps it was just fate, because with Jason she was positively angelic. And Jason, for his part, was saintly.
“I still don’t know what you said to her, Jay, but you are up there somewhere with her favourite pop-star and the puppy her mum won’t let her have in the popularity stakes. Seriously, I’m guessing some sort of medal is in the post,” Howard admitted down the phone, making Jason laugh softly, if a little shyly. “Look, Jay, I know nothing I say will make you believe it but...you’re something else, the way you just open up to her and you’re just fine with her being around and...just don’t feel like you have to lie to me that it’s ok, because I won’t think any less of you if it’s not ok. Because you did such a good job of not letting her know it wasn’t ok and that’s made her so happy. So just...thank you.”
“Howard,” Jason’s voice was gentle and, though there was a trace of smile behind it, Howard could feel the seriousness of his plea.
“What?”
“Stop apologising and stop thanking me. It’s fine. Your daughter and you are both fine with me. More than fine, actually, if you really want to know. And no, I’m not lying, I promise.” Howard paused a moment. The bubbling up of warmth and gratitude within him had caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure he could keep it under control – if he spoke too soon, every emotion would come spilling out and he would scare Jason away for sure. He let out a breath.
“It was our third date, Jay...” he reminded him tentatively, but he could almost hear Jason rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, but you and me don’t really date, do we? We just...keep turning up unannounced and hoping for the best.” And Jason had him there. Because, although the previous day had only been their third pre-organised date, the two of them had ended up seeing each other at least twice a week, every week, for the past two months. Howard spent hours at the shop, messing with the drum kit and distracting Jason with his jokes. And as for Jason...he had developed the habit of turning up at Howard’s gigs. Always unannounced, always just to show Howard he cared. He’d out-dance the entire rest of the club and Howard would pull him up into the DJ booth and Jason would lean into his ear and tell him things that would make him laugh – or blush, depending how much Jason had had to drink. “Besides, I got to hold your hand all the way around the penguin enclosure. If that’s not romance then I don’t know what is, Donald.” Jason’s voice shook Howard from his thoughts and he laughed, because Jason’s obsession with the little things – the stolen moments and the casual gestures – always made him chuckle. He found it sweet that there was someone out there in the world who, for all his flirtation (and despite the way he danced), placed more value in a held hand or shared joke than in a heady tumble onto the sheets. It was something that charmed Howard, because, if he was honest, low-key was a passion of his.
“Well I can’t argue with you there,” Howard said softly.
“No, you definitely can’t. There are people in this world who have never held their boyfriend’s hand whilst anywhere near a penguin. And besides, I’m always right,” Jason replied.
“You’re ridiculous,” Howard grinned.
“Sure I am, but you wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t.” Howard blushed and, somehow, he knew that Jason knew. “So stop thanking me and I’ll see you at the shop on Monday maybe?”
“I guess so...I mean, I probably shouldn’t be thanking you at all anyway...” Howard paused and waited for Jason’s curiosity to get the better of him.
“Why’s that then?” Jason laughed, happy to take the bait.
“Well, when I drove Grace to her mum’s last night she told me what she’s going to be when she grows up...”
“Go on...” Jason pressed and Howard grinned.
“I was hoping for a lawyer or a doctor...”
“Of course,” Jason smirked.
“But instead she’d got it narrowed down between two things: a penguin-tamer or owning her own ice-cream factory, she’s just not sure which. And you know what, Jay? It’s definitely all your fault!”
Howard got through to Vicky on the third attempt, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether he might have hung up again if it hadn’t been for the confused ‘Howard?’ she had let out into the silence. He rubbed his hand over his face and leant against the wall, trying to work out what was best to say. For a moment all he did was watch the rain. Was it raining where Vicky and Grace were too? He didn’t know why it mattered. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.
“Hey, Vicky.”
“Howard, what’s the matter?”
“ Listen I...I’ve managed to get the word round to a few people now and I don’t want Grace finding out from anyone else so...so can you...can you tell her, for me, not to worry, but Jay’s had an accident and...and he’s in the hospital and they don’t...don’t tell her this bit but they don’t know for sure if he’s going to be ok yet. I just...I need her to know that something has happened but I don’t want her to know how bad it is because...because even I can’t process how bad this is and I don’t want her to have to be thinking...thinking the worst.” Howard closed his eyes more tightly in an effort to stop any more tears forming in his already sore eyes.
“Oh, Howard,” Vicky whispered and Howard wished she hadn’t.
“Please, don’t...don’t say anything, Vick, I just...just please tell her not to panic and that I’ll call her in the morning and...”
“She adores him, How, she’s going to be devastated...don’t you think you should maybe...”
“No, Vicky. Because if she hears one word from me right now...then she’ll know. She’ll know how bad it is and she will not let me tell her to stay with you because she will want to be here. And she can’t be here. Jay is a hero to her, and I don’t want her seeing him this way.”
“What’s French for break-dancer?” Jason looked up from the dishes and frowned.
“French for break-dancer?!” he repeated and at that Howard glanced away from his laptop.
“Why would you need to know that?” he asked and Grace rolled her eyes theatrically, pulling herself up to sit at the breakfast bar and chucking her exercise book down in front of her.
“We have to write about our families for French homework and I’m trying to say something about Jay which is going to make stupid Annabelle Mann jealous when we read it out in class,” she explained. Jason chuckled and shook his head, turning back to the dishes.
“I thought Sophie was your only sworn enemy at school?”
“Yeah, but Annabelle’s top of the class in French and everyone always raves about how fascinating the things she writes about her family are. But I think I’m more interesting than her,” Grace said, smiling slightly mischievously. Howard chuckled.
“Of course you do.”
“Actually, I think Jay’s more interesting, to be precise. And you can’t disagree with me dad coz everyone in this room will know you’re lying.”
“She’s got you there, How,” Jason smiled, glancing over at Howard, his eyes twinkling playfully. Howard grinned, winking back at him.
“Stop flirting and help me,” Grace sighed, making both of them laugh. Jason pushed himself away from the counter and came over to the breakfast bar to peer at her exercise book.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I think your French skills are already way beyond mine. I can make you a hot chocolate though, you think that would help?” Grace beamed at Jason broadly.
“Thank you, Jay.”
“My pleasure, Gracie.”
Justin was the first to spot Mark and Gary’s arrival, giving them a sombre nod as they made their way across the room. Howard then glanced up and Mark immediately noticed how red his eyes looked. A bolt of fear ran through him and he began to chew on his lip anxiously. Gary, however, was reassured by how squarely Howard held his shoulders, impressed by the energy it must be taking him not to keel right over on the hospital floor. Jenny was standing with Howard’s arm around her shoulders and she was the only one to outright smile at Mark and Gary. She had always had an enormous amount of affection for Gary, whilst Mark was almost universally loved, and something about seeing the two of them allowed her to forget the circumstances.
“I’m glad you came,” she said softly, reaching out an arm to invite Gary into a brief hug.
“Jay and Dougie are our brothers, we had to be here,” he told her sincerely, glancing at Howard, who gave him a sad but grateful smile.
“Gaz...” he faltered, his eyes pleading with Gary to understand. Gary gave him a small shrug, his lips curving upwards slightly.
“The rain’s easing off...won’t be long now,” he said and Howard’s smile widened for a moment in gratitude. The statement shouldn’t have made sense, but to Howard it did and he found a new burst of strength from it, even if he suspected it to be a lie. After all, Gary and Mark were drenched.
“We would’ve been here sooner but we had to drop our bags at home and then by the time we set out again it was rush hour. I’ve been going mad with worrying...Jay would be proud,” Mark said with a quiet laugh and Howard chuckled sadly.
“Guess he’s exacting a little revenge on us,” he sighed.
“Do you know anything yet? Justin said a car lost control?” Gary asked. Howard visibly shuddered and Justin felt another tingle of guilt creeping up his skin. He thought back to the things he had said to Jason that afternoon and he suddenly doubted his own words. Jason was stubborn, but even he had his limits. If a cause wasn’t worth fighting for, then, at some point, Jason would stop fighting for it. But Jason had been fighting for Howard for years now, unwaveringly. And here Howard was, returning the favour. Justin was beginning to question his interpretation of every action, trying to trace the line back and work out when it had first begun, but his brain was too full of the image of his twin lying out on the damp Manchester tarmac.
“The doctors can only talk to Howard and mum but...but apparently they said he was bleeding internally when they brought him in,” Justin murmured. Howard closed his eyes.
“He should be out of surgery by now,” he put in.
“They were going to do some more scans, to make sure there’s nothing they’ve missed. They were worried there might be brain injuries they didn’t pick up on before...when they spotted the bleeding that had to take priority,” Jenny explained. Gary noticed how pale her usually smiling face was and he felt a wave of queasiness come over him. All those words – they’d only ever heard them before on television or in films, and then it hadn’t mattered how harsh and unpleasant they sounded, because then they weren’t real. But now they were too real and they were trying to attach themselves to Jason. It was a hideous thought and Gary shuddered. Brilliant, bright, stubborn, silly Jason. A man who, as Gary knew him, was too alive for cold words. Mark linked his arm through Gary’s and buried his face in the crook of his neck.
“Poor Jay,” he whispered, conveying a lot more than he actually had said.
“But if everything looks ok, if they don’t pick anything up...” Justin offered up hopefully.
“They’re hoping to try and bring him round. But whether he comes to or...or how the trauma to his head will have affected him...” Howard trailed off and shook his head slightly. There were possibilities, endless possibilities, and he didn’t like them. Every word the doctors said seemed ambiguous. Every moment that passed was loaded with doubt and every time the doctors shared a glance or took a breath, the air became imbued with yet more waves of that hideous uncertainty. But then, he supposed he should know by now, nothing can really be depended upon, can it? You know this story, Howard. He hated trying to stare down the rain.
It was raining, the water tip-tapping on the glass of the bedroom window. All that water, gathering in puddles up and down the city, lapping at the corners of Howard’s life. The movies got everything wrong; the end of the world would not come with a bang, it would come with a pitter-pat. He turned over in the bed and the sheets rustled. The space was so vast and he couldn’t fill it alone. He and Jason had filled this space. Together they could fill whole rooms, never mind this bed. There was a picture somewhere of the two of them in this bed and they filled up the frame. A picture taken as a joke when Howard got his new camera, the two of them laughing and fighting underneath the sheets some summer morning. It lit up behind Howard’s eyelids every time he tried to sleep. But now everything was all pitter-pattered instead. And, sure enough; pitter-pat went the rain against the window. Howard swallowed some emotion or other which was too dry to consist of actual tears, and he tried not to crumple the note that he still held in his hands. If I close my eyes, if I close my eyes...he repeated the words under his breath. If I close my eyes, I’ll dream a little deeper. Slowly he pulled the sheet up over his head and he felt, just for a second, a little less alone. You are always on my mind for life – yes, Howard knew that feeling.
Chapter Eight: Tuesday, Late Evening
Howard watched the hospital car-park turn a shimmery orange as the Manchester clouds drew a curtain of drizzle across the darkening sky. Blurry outlines of people moved back and forth, briefly being illuminated by the streetlamps before disappearing off into the wetness of the city. He’d come outside to be alone, but now that he was here with only his thoughts for company he was starting to remember just how much he’d always hated being alone. He was bad at relationships but he was worse at being alone, tending to find unwise distractions, or else simply spiral off, unchecked, away from the world. Perhaps it was something which he could only really appreciate about himself now, with the benefit of seeing just what strength he was really capable of when he actually tried. He had spent so much of his life hiding out, thinking maudlin things about the world. And yes, when he was younger, there had been drugs and drink and people he shouldn’t have been friends with all employed in attempts to distract him from such loneliness, and as he grew up a bit he had turned to plans that he didn’t think all the way through. But, thankfully, he’d always managed to keep himself away from the cliff-edge, just about. For Grace’s sake alone sometimes, other times because he was old enough to realise he was wallowing more than any man should. He had continued to stumble but survive. And then he’d found Jason Orange. A man walking that same precarious line who placed all his trust in him to keep the two of them safely on the path. But maybe, Howard wondered to himself now, walking that line together was proving more dangerous than anything that had gone before. Howard shivered and pulled the sleeves of his hoody down further over his hands then flicked his cigarette lighter and watched the flame a moment. This is why he shouldn’t be left alone. His thoughts did strange dances when he was alone. How was it Jason’s thoughts always followed their choreography so well?
He was aware of Justin walking towards him, but he didn’t look up to acknowledge him, not even as he slid down the wall to sit beside him on the ground. Both men seemed keen to preserve the silence, their eyes on the car-park and the rain and never on each other. Justin drew his knees up to his chest in a mirror of Howard’s pose and the silence went on, broken only when footsteps splish-splashed through the puddles around them. They watched a doctor trying to surreptitiously light a cigarette without his patients seeing. Howard flicked his lighter one more time.
“It was never really about you,” Justin murmured at last. Howard wiped the corner of his eye with his sleeve and sniffed back a few lingering tears before risking a glance over to his husband’s twin. Justin didn’t have the same smile-etched cheeks that Jason did, but those eyes were the same, glinting in the semi-darkness in a way that Howard found reassuringly familiar.
“Now isn’t the time,” he sighed, offering his cigarette packet out to Justin. They were Mark’s cigarettes really. When Howard had asked, Mark had handed them to him without comment, his eyes sympathetic. Even Gary hadn’t judged him for it. But that didn’t stop Howard judging himself. Justin took a cigarette and Howard passed him the lighter. They didn’t look at each other, instead keeping their vigil over the rain. Howard leant his head back against the wall and Justin took a drag on his cigarette.
“You knew him better than me,” he said quietly. Howard frowned, looking over at Justin from the corner of his eye.
“What?”
“You knew him better. You were the only one to...I was pissed off because you knew him better.”
“Justin, I don’t know what...”
“I thought he was dead. That year, the stuff with Emily...he was missing and I thought he was dead. And you knew he wasn’t. You had the kind of faith in him that I should’ve had, the faith that he wouldn’t do that to any of us. And you had the kind of instinctive knowledge that...that I used to have with him. You just...knew. Like we used to. Me and him...we always used to know...” Justin shook his head sadly and closed his eyes, blowing smoke out into the air as Howard watched him. “I wanted to blame you because blaming you was easier. I wanted you to be the bad guy, I wanted you to have stolen my twin off me by force rather than...rather than me just losing him.” Howard bit his lip, squirming uncomfortably, suddenly desperate to get out of this damp air. He remembered so much, too much, and the memories were choking him. Justin glanced over to him, his blue eyes teary. “We took him for granted. That he’d always be there. He’s Jay, he’s strong Jay. When crappy things happen to us, he’ll be there making daft jokes and giving advice that we’ll ignore and he’s just always going to be invincible and if ever he does need anyone then obviously it’s going to be us.”
“And then I came along.”
“And then you came along,” Justin echoed, letting out a hollow chuckle. “You made him better, you know? You bring out his colours more. I mean...I don’t ever bring up the good stuff but I know it’s there. I know he’s more relaxed now, I know he’s happier in his own skin, he doesn’t worry so much. There’s part of my brain that recognises how much you’ve brought out his smile but...I guess that sometimes I saw all that stuff as the bad stuff too. Because he wasn’t just our rock anymore. He exposed a vulnerability. He fell in love and he fell apart over it sometimes and...and he didn’t seem as in control as he always used to seem. Maybe on some level we all felt bitter. Maybe we’re all bitter because...you’re always going to know him better. You’re probably the only one who will ever know everything. For Dad...I guess for him it’s hard because he already lost Jay before. And for the rest of us...I s’pose we all just thought we were the rightful people to come in and save the day, when the day finally came that he needed saving anyway. But in the end you were the only one he could write that note to. You were the only one he knew could understand him on that level, on the level where you would know the real meaning. He figured you knew him best. And we all proved him right. I didn’t believe in him...and he knew I wouldn’t. So he believed in you. And you came through. You always come through.” Justin stubbed out his cigarette and rested his chin on his knees and Howard turned his eyes back to the rain. For a while they sat in silence again, Howard playing with the ends of his sleeves and Justin digging his nails into his palms.
“It’s not as selfless as you make it sound, Justin. Sometimes I think I have to believe in him. I have to because half the time I don’t really believe in myself. I don’t have that confidence in me, not really. He gave it to me, he put it there and he sustains it. I can pretend but...I’m just...I dunno. Shy? I’d never really tried to be anything more than that bloke in the background because I didn’t think it was worth it. I didn’t want to be out in the world, I just wanted to get by, to just about survive in no particular style. Until I met Jay...and suddenly, there was this bloke who thought I hung the moon.” Justin smiled softly then, looking over at Howard and meeting his eyes.
“Jay can do that...something about the way he thinks about the world. He sees things other people miss and he thinks about them in ways other people don’t.”
“He saw me the way I didn’t, I know that much. And he made me laugh and...and he even laughed at my jokes. And I know my jokes are crap but he laughed. He looked at me like he saw something good there. He believed in a strength I didn’t even know I had and...and sometimes I think I don’t really have it at all, I just have this...reflected glory. The strength’s all his and he’s just loaning it to me.” Howard knew he was crying now but Justin pretended not to see and the two men stared resolutely at the rain. A gaggle of nurses giggled off into the night, squealing as the rain got heavier and fighting over a single polka-dot umbrella. Justin found it funny that those same women had been in amidst a fray of life-or-death for hours and yet they still managed to laugh at the rain. What he wouldn’t give to be able to shrug off this downpour. But the rain knew him and Howard too well.
“I’m sorry, Howard,” Justin whispered at last and Howard wiped at his eyes self-consciously.
Their bodies were still thrumming with music and alcohol and laughter as they made it to the apartment door. Howard tried to keep up the contact between them and Jason dodged and teased, opening the door and casting a sparkling glance over his shoulder. By the time Jason was tossing his keys down on the coffee table with an unprovoked chuckle, Howard was kicking the apartment door closed, his eyes still alive as they followed Jason’s body. Jason moved like a dancer, every motion drawing the eye to him and Howard watched with a smile as Jason closed his eyes and stretched himself out, a flash of stomach being exposed as his shirt rode up. His spine curved in an elegant line as he let out a low groan and Howard could hardly resist.
“God, I’m getting too old for this.” Jason’s voice was low and soft as Howard came up behind him, wrapping an arm around his middle and pressing a kiss into the crook of his neck. Jason moaned slightly at his touch, feeling Howard’s hand move under his shirt as he pulled him closer.
“You’d better not be, coz if you’re too old then what does that make me?” Howard spoke gruffly, kissing Jason behind his ear and then on his cheek as the two of them fell slowly down onto the sofa. Jason was laughing again at that, twisting in Howard’s embrace and wrapping his arms around his neck to respond with kisses of his own. “What are you laughing at Orange?” Howard grinned, his eyes playful as he attempted to cuff Jason around the head, Jason grabbing hold of his arm and wrestling him for control. Still laughing, they both play-fought, Jason kicking his legs out in a weak protest as Howard overpowered him, slowly pushing Jason back to lie down against the cushions. For a moment he held himself up, looking down at Jason with glinting eyes. In the darkness of the apartment, Jason’s smile was dazzling and Howard raised his eyebrows in one final challenge. Getting Jason to admit defeat was never easy, but Howard was confident he could do it.
“You win, you win, please just behave yourself and lie down, old man,” Jason laughed and Howard chuckled, lowering his body down against Jason’s, kissing his neck again. Jason half-heartedly swotted him away, but the objection was hard to take seriously when Howard could feel the pressure of his own body relaxing the muscles of Jason’s. Howard pulled back to meet Jason’s eyes again and in response Jason ran his knuckles along Howard’s stubble-covered cheek, tender and fond. Howard could see a mistiness in his blue eyes that told him Jason was perhaps too tired or too fuzzy from the alcohol to fight off his teases any longer. All Jason wanted was to be held, safely and without comment. Silently Howard placed a kiss to Jason’s forehead and moved his body around so he could wrap his arms around his waist. Jason smiled tiredly, his eyes closing as he turned himself into Howard’s chest, tucking his head sleepily under Howard’s chin. Howard reached out one arm to grab the throw from the back of the sofa and he pulled it around the two of them and Jason let out a small, contented sigh.
“Anyone else and I wouldn’t let them call me old man, just so you know,” Howard whispered. Jason’s lips twitched up, but he didn’t open his eyes.
The two men lay that way for a while, not speaking, and Howard almost thought Jason had already gone to sleep when his thoughts finally broke out from his head and into the silence.
“For the record, How, it makes you amazing.”
“What?” Howard frowned, looking down at Jason in confusion, slightly surprised at the interruption to the peace. Jason’s eyes were still closed but he was smiling slightly.
“If I’m old, what does that make you. It makes you amazing. I’ve always thought that. There’s no nastiness in you, How. Just music and kindness and loyalty. And a total inability to think half as highly of yourself and you should,” Jason mumbled, his voice rough as though he were talking in his sleep. But Howard knew Jason was awake, could feel his heart beating just that little bit too quickly.
“I’m nothing special, just a bloke,” Howard replied quietly, looking up at the ceiling. Jason smiled sleepily at Howard’s humble denial.
“No. You’re made of steel, Donald, you just don’t know it.” Jason’s whisper was slightly slurred, as though he were drifting off, but Howard still felt every word.
It was a few weeks later before Howard proposed, but he still had always considered that night to be the night Jason had given him permission to ask.
It was Gary who was sent to make sure Howard and Justin hadn’t torn each other to pieces, and he was only mildly alarmed when he found Howard sitting by himself outside. He was used to finding Howard lost in thought, however. It was a sight which had become like wallpaper at the shop. When the four of them met up, if there was going to be anyone not paying attention then it would be Howard – weekends spent at Jason and Howard apartment usually saw Mark and Jason bounce off each other the most, the two of them sparking back and forth whilst Howard simply sat on the floor in front of the sofa, his head resting against Jason’s legs as he let his mind wander. Of course, usually Howard’s daydreams ended with a joke, or at the very least a play-fight with Jason. But today Howard was lost to the rain and Gary could almost pick out the patterns it was making across Howard’s startling blue eyes. He wondered, briefly, when it was that Howard had become so close to the rain. As his friend, shouldn’t he have noticed sooner? It never rains round here, but it pours – someone had said that to him the day he’d first moved into Oldham Street, he remembered now. He’d laughed it off at the time, but looking back on recent years maybe he should’ve heeded the warning. But then where would any of them be? For all their faults, the four of them were better off together than they ever were apart. Though today seemed to be trying its best to split them. Gary shuddered slightly, coming over to sit on the ground next to Howard. The whites of Howard’s eyes were pinkish, Gary noticed, but he still glanced over and offered something close to a smile.
“Let me guess – Jenny sent you out here to make sure me and Justin hadn’t killed each other?” he asked, sniffing slightly and looking down. Gary laughed softly.
“She’s just worried about you, it’s been almost an hour the two of you have been out here.”
“Yeah, well...I don’t think she’s got too much to worry about any more,” Howard murmured, letting out a long breath. Gary raised an eyebrow.
“Really? Coz I’m not seeing Justin round here anywhere...” he pointed out and Howard let out a small laugh, shrugging slightly.
“I didn’t hide the body, if that’s what you’re implying, Barlow. His twin brother is in hospital, I think he just needed some...room to think.”
“And you two are really ok? Just like that?”
“Maybe...I don’t know. We’ve probably got as close as we’re ever going to get to being ok with each other. The problem is...I’m always going to be the guy who replaced him. You’re just lucky Mark’s not a twin,” Howard sighed, running his hand through his hair. Gary smiled sadly and leant his head back, watching the rain a moment.
“Mark is a twin, in his own way. His own, much more complicated way. And trust me, you don’t even want to try dealing with that.” Howard looked over at Gary then, his eyes kind.
“You met with Rob today?” he asked gently and Gary nodded. “God. I don’t know how you do it Gaz, I really don’t.”
“Do what?”
“Stay standing. Rob this morning, Jay this afternoon...”
“There’s plenty of people who’d say you were the strong one,” Gary pointed out and Howard shook his head, suddenly looking down and squirming under Gary’s gaze.
“Jay says that. But Jay’s not always right about everything.” Gary frowned slightly, unsure what Howard meant, but he decided to let it be. Howard bit his lip and raised his eyes to the rain once more. “I take it the thing with Rob didn’t go well?” Gary flinched slightly at Howard’s question.
“I could’ve done with Jay or you in there, he’s always calmer with you two.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing...well, not nothing but...it’s not important. Not now, not after what’s happened to Jay.”
“It’s important to you though.”
“But it shouldn’t be. Jay is like a brother to me...you are like a brother to me. Rob is...just someone I would’ve liked to have got to know.” Gary swallowed and closed his eyes and for a minute he and Howard sat in silence, listening to the rain on the pavement and remembering sunnier days. There had been a time when everything had been so calm and so quiet. And the sun did shine. Brief months which were slowly getting washed away.
“What did he throw at you?” Howard asked softly. Gary smiled faintly in response.
“Everything. Mark, music...a fist, almost. But the less said about that the better.”
“And which bit got to you the most?”
“How much it was hurting Mark,” Gary admitted quietly. Howard’s lips quirked.
“Yeah. I know that feeling.”
Mark found Justin. He slipped outside after Gary, needing to surround himself with someone else’s problems in the hope of forgetting his own, and for a little while he wandered the hospital car-park, hardly aware of the rain soaking through his jacket, plastering his hair to his head. There weren’t too many people around, considering that it was a summer night in the heart of the city, and briefly Mark could entertain the idea that he was dreaming, that this city wasn’t really his city at all, just some horrible nightmarish version of it where nothing went the way it should. It was the sight of a lone figure, sitting at a bus-stop across the road, that changed Mark’s mind. This was his city after all, whether he liked it or not. And they were all trapped in it with him, getting soaked to the skin.
Mark dashed across the road, his feet making loud splashing sounds in the vast puddles that covered it, but still Justin hardly registered the smaller man’s arrival. Mark sat down next to him, joining him in his wordlessness, scuffing his shoes on the pavement and trying not to think.
“I think I’m smoking your cigarettes,” Justin remarked softly at last. Mark could only just hear him over the sound of the rain, but he smiled sadly and shrugged.
“What’s it even matter,” he replied. Justin let out a sigh.
“I can’t decide if everything matters or nothing anymore.” Mark glanced at Justin thoughtfully, his eyes glittering slightly in the lamplight, and he realised that perhaps that one sentence summed it up. Did everything matter more now, or did nothing matter? After everything that had happened to them...Mark swallowed back a wave of tears and looked away.
“I know what you mean...I know it sounds like I’m just saying that but...I’m not. I know how you’re feeling because...it’s how I feel too.” Justin looked up, his brow furrowing. “So many things have been said and done, everything has gone back and forth a hundred times and you want to just burn your bridges and be damned. But then you think about the person...the person you’re trying to be angry at. And you know that you’ve made mistakes too, everyone makes mistakes, how’s it fair to hold it against one person and not another? So you think twice about burning those bridges you’re crossing over, because you start to wonder if you’re doing it just to watch the firelight – which will sooth you for a little while...until it’s gone...and then you’ll have lost something you can never get back.” Mark sniffed and closed his eyes and for a minute or two he and Justin sat, absorbed in their own thoughts, the sound of the rain on the roof of the bus-shelter roaring in their ears.
“I know Jay’s not perfect...but I think, a lot of the time, I build him up to be in my head. Me and...and maybe all of us. Because we needed him to be perfect, so that he could make all our imperfections go away. And even though I know that, even though it’s starting to sink in just how long I’ve been going on with this rubbish...I still can’t wrap my head around why he’s not...he’s not the way he used to be. Or the way I used to think he was. And I can’t work out why him and me aren’t the way we used to be with each other...I really don’t want that to be something I let happen to us.”
“I guess life just changes people, Justin, you know? And the people who know the whole story, the people who understand all that cause and effect and everything...they’re the ones we keep the closest to us.”
“So what, Howard understands my twin’s life experiences better than me?”
“Maybe.”
“Mark...”
“Justin, hear me out, don’t get angry coz it’s not got us anywhere so far has it?” Mark murmured and Justin closed his mouth, looking away and blinking back a fresh onslaught of tears. “All I’m saying is that...Howard’s just been through so much with him. And then Jay’s probably told him the rest. Me and Gaz sort of noticed it happening, you know? Jay started getting more...bright. And on some level both of us must’ve realise that it was Howard who brought that out in him, by sharing the weight of his secrets with him, I suppose. And loving him despite those secrets too.”
“I just don’t know why he’s done this, Mark...the thing with his medical records I mean, this only telling Howard and mum business...why would he do that?”
“You said it yourself, Justin, Jay’s not perfect. I think...I think he was scared more than he’d admit to any of us, not just by what happened with Emily but by how the people he cared about reacted to it. By how they reacted to Howard despite everything Howard has done for him. So...he was hurting and...when you hurt imperfect people then...then sometimes they hurt you too.”
They were taking a break from writing and Howard and Gary had been sent out to get food, leaving Jason to make the tea. It was a bank holiday and the shop was peaceful, the only sounds that could be heard were the floorboards creaking softly underfoot and the clink of teaspoons coming from the backroom. A car trundled down Oldham Street and Mark yawned and Robbie paced and for a while it felt like they had always lived like this. Mark couldn’t remember the last day he hadn’t seen Robbie, couldn’t remember the last day he hadn’t helped Howard with a lyric or hummed a melody to Gary. He couldn’t remember the last time Robbie hadn’t told a joke and he hadn’t laughed.
“Do you remember when we were young?” Robbie’s voice was only a little above a whisper and for a moment Mark wondered if it was just another of those background noises of the shop, to be co-existed with but not acknowledged. But then he felt Robbie’s blue eyes watching him and he looked up, his eyebrows quirked slightly.
“When we were young? You mean when it was just you and me?”
“Yeah...when it was just you and me,” Robbie agreed, suddenly seeming shy, his eyes glancing away.
“Of course I do. We had some good times, you and me,” Mark agreed, a little uncertain as to where the conversation was going but, for some reason, sensing danger ahead.
“We’d go for weeks and every day would be how we dreamed.”
“I don’t know about that, Rob...we never understood the cost of our actions or...”
“I know but...it felt good, didn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
“You want to know what I think?” A third voice interrupted. Both Robbie and Mark turned their heads. Jason was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the piano room, three mugs of tea in his hands, his blue eyes seeming both kind and firm as he looked between the two men.
“Jay, I was just...” Robbie began to explain but Jason gave him a knowing smile, those eyes of his all aglitter, and Robbie promptly closed his mouth.
“You were just...?” Jason’s grin was mischievous and Robbie smiled back at him shyly. Jason nodded slightly before moving to distribute the tea. “It feels good, being with Howard. Every day, there’s at least one moment where I think that that feeling of contentment is just...life, in its entirety. But it’s not really, is it? It’s the bit that keeps you going through life, but life itself? It’s messy and it doesn’t always make sense. And when I was growing up I learnt that, one way and another, so I guess that makes it easier for me to remember it. But we all learn it at some point, we just have to suck it up and deal with it, don’t you think?”
“What if the thing that gave you that contentment...what if it’s not the same? What if something happens and it’s altered forever?” Robbie asked. Mark’s head snapped round and he was sure that both Robbie and Jason noticed it, though neither acknowledged it. Jason simply settled himself down in the chair in the corner, clearly mulling over Robbie’s question, tapping his fingers against his mug.
“I thought that had happened when my dad left. I thought ‘That’s it, game over’. And then I worked out that helping my mum and my brothers...I enjoyed it.”
“And that was enough?” Robbie asked. Mark felt the tea burning his tongue but he took a massive gulp all the same, his eyes looking anywhere but at Robbie. He could see Jason glance at him briefly but he refused to meet the gaze. Jason sighed.
“I thought it was. Maybe I never would have thought any different if I’d never met Howard. And since Howard..well, you know the rest. As for this messed up, screwed up world that keeps throwing shit at us all the time...I will keep shouting at it that I love Howard until it listens to me. Because I will be with him, I will fight for him. And I will keep screaming and fighting and holding on for as long as it takes.” Jason looked down into his tea, suddenly seeming to realise just how honest he was being. Robbie looked over at Mark then and for a moment their eyes met.
“That sounded like an invitation,” Robbie whispered. Jason looked up at him, his eyes suddenly stern. The gaze was so pointed that Robbie was forced to look away from Mark – Jason had a way of commanding a gaze when he needed it, something about playing the role of Big Brother for so much of his life.
“Don’t take it that way, Rob. Coz the other thing I know for sure? I will keep fighting for Howard, always, no matter what anyone tells me. Unless...unless Howard’s the one telling me to stop. If he says stop...I’d put up a struggle, sure. But eventually, I’d have to let him go.” Jason stared Robbie down for a moment and Mark looked between the two of them in stunned silence. Robbie glanced over then, flashing him a brief, sad smile then looking down at his hands.
“You’ve got a way with words, Jay, you know that?” Mark asked softly and Jason laughed.
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“Bleeding but not leaving...maybe that’s a lesson I should learn. Accept the shitty stuff because there’s good things coming out of it.” Robbie sighed. The corner of Jason’s lips quirked up and he leant conspiratorially over to where Mark was perched on a piano stool.
“Looks like the innocents are starting to get over being old at last,” he chuckled and Mark smiled.
“Innocents? Rob and me?”
“Er, old? Less of that, you’re the old man in this room!” Robbie grinned at the same time, a little mischief returning to his eyes. Mark laughed brightly, his eyes lighting up with similar waywardness.
“Yeah, but look on the bright side, Jay, at least none of us are as old as your husband!” He’d ducked away from the cushion Jason threw at him.
“Mark Owen, you will pay for that,” Jason had sighed with a fond roll of his eyes. The punishment had never come though, and it wasn’t long before Howard and Gary had returned with Tesco sticky buns for all.
Robbie half-stumbled down the slope, swinging a bottle of vodka in one hand. The ponies watched him with their dark eyes and Rob muttered something at them about judgement and Mark Owen and life not being fair before meandering away from them for a while before slipping and skidding on the gravel. He was halfway down the pathway, the Britannia looming over him, some poster of a player stretching up one side. The player’s eyes followed Robbie as he swayed on the spot and slowly Robbie looked back up to meet the poster’s gaze. It struck him then that there wasn’t a single soul between him and those looming eyes, hardly a bird in the sky, never mind souls on the pathways. It was so quiet out here – sometimes, in the summer months, after the end of the last football season and before the start of the next, standing on this hill could make you feel like half the city had upped and left. Maybe half the city had. It wasn’t far from here that they were selling off derelict houses for a pound, after all. Robbie shivered; he didn’t cope well with loneliness, it terrified him and the mixture of the fear and the alcohol was making him feel sick. The wind was getting stronger and he could feel spots of rain on his face, mingling with tears he hadn’t realised he was crying.
“What am I doing?” he asked no one at all, his head dropping dejectedly. But no signs fell from heaven, no voices came from the sky, and Robbie closed his eyes, feeling his legs give under him. “What the fuck am I doing?” he mumbled into his chest. “Does anyone know? Do I even know?!” The pebbles beneath him were cold and they dug into the backs of his thighs, but he hardly even winced. “I finally had it good and I chucked it in. Coz I got scared. And coz I saw that my old life really had finally got away from me forever...which scared me even more.” Robbie rubbed a hand over his face. “I always chuck things in just because I get fucking scared.” He rubbed the tears from his cheeks and shook his head. “I’m an idiot. I’m such an idiot,” he whispered, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead against them.
He didn’t know why he was crying anymore. He couldn’t pretend that it was Gary Barlow’s fault, not now. He tried to untangle it all, trying to extricate the real emotion from the booze, but it was too difficult, too many mistakes and words and too much history to try to understand. He should have trusted them, he should’ve trusted them all. After all, Mark had always believed in him. He’d stood by Robbie through drugs and tears and insults and blows, always having faith in him. And yet Robbie had done nothing but let him down. Howard was less trusting, understandably. But he always tried. He always offered a joke and a smile. And then there was Gary...had he imagined it, or had him and Gary actually had a laugh sometimes? Had him and Gary even...no...they hadn’t actually understood each other? Had they?
And of course...there was Jason too. Robbie had to squeeze his eyes even tighter shut as he thought of Jason. God, Robbie hoped he was alright. He needed him to be alright. If he’d been sober at the time, and not fighting and yelling after Gary to the last, then he would have asked what was going on, would’ve asked to go with them, would’ve told them to keep him informed, something. Because Robbie had come to love Jason and not knowing if he was ok was awful, a hideous feeling that Robbie realised was making him feel even worse than he already did. The first few days the five of them had spent together, he and Jason had clashed, and they still fought from time to time, just differing points of view and nothing more – Jason was usually the one to decide they were being childish and make peace, something Robbie tried not to feel too guilty for. But Robbie had realised, in time, that everything Jason did was to look after him. The Perpetual Big Brother, Mark called him, and Robbie had come to appreciate that for what it was; a tender gesture from someone who really owed him nothing. After a while he started to let Jason just talk to him, about anything and everything, and he had learned just how much he loved to listen to him ramble. He hated to think what Jason would say to him if he were there in that moment. Robbie Williams, drunk and crying on a hill in Stoke-on-Trent, hardly noticing the rain.
Rob drew in a shaky breath and sniffed, raising his head. He had to know if Jason was ok. The realisation hit him with such clarity that he almost felt sober, until a wave of nausea crept up on him and he had to swallow hard to fight it. He had to know if Jason was ok. He had to know if Mark was ok. He had to know if he could fix the damage he’d done. And he knew there was only one person who would have a level enough head to talk to him. He reached for his phone and found the number; ‘Barlow Mobile’. He hit the call button and held his breath.
Chapter Nine: Tuesday, Late, And Dark Out For Summer
Doctor Whelan was a tall man, all broad shoulders and strong jaw-line. He had dark hair and dark eyes and a tone of voice that could make even the most dramatic of situations seem like a warm summer’s night. But the thing Justin appreciated most about him was his tact. Perhaps bending the rules was generally frowned upon in the medical profession, but Alexander Whelan had mapped out certain boundaries for himself which Justin was grateful for. It was the way he pretended not to notice, the casual manner he held the looks of both Jenny and Howard without once turning to Justin, Gary or Mark, despite their faces peeking out quite obviously from over Howard’s shoulder. He directed everything he said only to Howard and Jenny, respecting his patient’s wishes, but, after a quiet word from Howard, he had begun to allow all of them to cluster around more closely when he came to pass on information on Jason’s condition. They ‘accidentally overheard’ every word he said and there was a slight glint in his eyes every time he noticed Mark standing on tiptoe to try and lean in to hear better. Justin needed to remember to thank him for that – although, he supposed, it was really Howard he should thank.
“The good news is that there doesn’t appear to be any bleeding on the brain, which is what we were worried about initially. His scans didn’t show any signs of anything which would be of immediate concern to us and so now we can start focusing on his lesser injuries and doing what we can to help his recovery from those.”
“So, he’s going to be fine? Same old Jay?” Jenny Orange was biting her lip as she spoke and Howard glanced over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. Justin swallowed, watching the doctor’s expression flicker slightly. It wasn’t the reaction any of them had wanted to see.
“I’m afraid I can’t guarantee anything. Your son hadn’t regained consciousness by the time we took him into surgery, and since then he has been quite heavily anaesthetised, so we haven’t been able to really assess that aspect. The staff in intensive care will be the ones responsible for overseeing him now and trying to bring him back to consciousness. If he doesn’t wake up when the anaesthetic wears off, then we will probably have to run some more tests and see where we can go from there.”
“But when he does come round, or if you bring him round, he’ll be ok from then on? Please, he is the only one of my boys who doesn’t drive me up the wall with worry and I just need to know that that’s not going to change.” Jenny swallowed a rogue lump in her throat, straining her face in an attempt to stay strong. Doctor Whelan took a breath. He looked at Jenny a moment before slowly turning back to Howard, whose face had become a mask which was entirely devoid of emotion. Gary too looked over at Howard then and he felt a wisp of worry begin to curl up inside him; what exactly was going on behind that mask? Even Howard’s eyes seemed grey and shuttered and it made Gary uneasy – because he wasn’t sure there was anyone in the world who was truly that strong, which could only mean Howard’s mind was working overtime behind those slate-coloured eyes. Mark mumbled something by Gary’s ear which he later swore he hadn’t realised he’d said; ‘It always goes this way.’
“The problem with the brain is that, although we’re learning new things all the time, we don’t yet know enough to ever be 100% confident when it comes to head injuries such as those Jason has sustained. Medicine is a science that is developing all the time, but for the moment we do have to rely a lot on patients’ responses once conscious. Once Jason is conscious again and talking, then we can start to assess him and get a clearer picture of whether or not there will be any long term consequences. But his scans are clear, and that is an extremely positive sign, I promise you.”
“But it’s not a definite answer,” Howard said quietly. Alexander looked down and Gary pitied him; he somehow found it easier to feel pity for the doctor than anyone else in that moment, because feeling pity for the rest of them – Jason, Howard, Justin, Mark...Robbie... – was too much to handle. Too much had happened. Too many emotions had gotten involved. With Alexander Whelan, Gary could detach him, as though he was watching television. He knew next to nothing about this man, had next to no entanglement with him. ‘That poor bastard hasn’t got an easy job has he’ – it was such an uncomplicated thing to feel that Gary leapt at the sentiment gratefully and clung to it.
“Jason is strong, he’s healthy and his surgery was extremely successful. He’s actually been incredibly lucky to escape with no major broken bones. I would say his chances of making a full recovery are good. We’re going to move him to the intensive care unit for the night but, by morning, we could very well be transferring him to a regular ward. You might have to go easy on him for a few weeks but...” Howard laughed softly and everyone jumped slightly, their eyes flicking over to him. Was this the moment he snapped and went mad from the pressure? You could almost hear them all holding their breath. But Howard simply shook his head and looked down, suddenly shy.
“No it’s just...Jay’s gonna love that isn’t he, us all pussy-footing round him, trying to make him play the invalid. He’s going to go mad.” He risked a glance at Jenny, his eyes shining briefly with that playfulness he was so loved for, and Jenny smiled back at him with understanding. Mark and Gary too where chucking slightly, exchanging glances, and Justin outright grinned.
“I give him a week before he checks himself out of the hospital and books a flight to Thailand,” he remarked and Howard smirked.
“You’re giving him that long?!” he asked. Doctor Whelan smiled and shrugged.
“Well, whether he likes it or not, we are going to be keeping him in, just to be on the safe side. And, depending how long he takes to come to, he could be with us here for quite some time. Even if he regains consciousness before tonight is through, we still need to keep an eye on him. Head injuries are tricky, as I said before, and sometimes symptoms can take a while to manifest. You can, however, go in and see him as he comes round, if you’d like?” Howard looked at Doctor Whelan with something that resembled suspicion, worried that this was simply false hope, but the doctor’s expression didn’t change and Gary could see the colours in his friend’s eyes shifting back to something more reminiscent of their usual startling blue. “I can only really let two of you in with him though, I’m afraid. I could probably persuade the sister on duty to let three of you sit with him a while, given the circumstances, but that’s probably the limit. It’s been a tough day for you, but Jason has had an even tougher one, I can assure you, and right now the best thing for him is probably peace and quiet,” the doctor added gently, still looking at Howard, who had somehow become the head of their group over the course of the evening. Perhaps the doctors were grateful of his level head, or perhaps Justin and Jenny had both come to accept that, these days, when it came to Jason, Howard was the expert, but either way he didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the authority. He turned to look at Jenny, but she simply shook her head.
“No, Howard, you should decide who goes in. You’re the only one he’ll want to see anyway I should imagine. When he’s scared it’s...it’s always you,” she smiled faintly. Howard bit his lip then glanced back at Gary. His friend knew him well enough to spot the plea in his eyes and he winked back, giving Howard a little nod to show he understood. Howard smiled gratefully.
“Justin, will you come with Jenny and me?” he asked after a moment and Justin blinked, his mouth opening slightly, and he looked between Gary and Howard in surprise.
“But I...” he began.
“Me and Mark have to go anyway,” Gary put in quickly and Mark nodded.
“Yeah, we’ve literally just dumped our bags in the middle of the flat, our dog’s still with a friend...” Mark shrugged. He knew it all sounded so trivial and stupid in the circumstances, but he felt as though he needed the escape that triviality could provide. An entire day of epic events was more than he really wanted to deal with, and besides, Justin needed to see Jason more than he or Gary did. Justin looked back to Howard, something resembling nervousness in his eyes. Considering the way he’d treated Howard...he knew he didn’t deserve his kindness.
“You want me in there? After everything I said?” Howard shook his head slightly.
“Honestly? Not really. But you’re Jay’s twin brother, and no matter what he says, he wants you around. So come on, you’re coming with us. No arguments.”
Howard felt Jason intertwine their arms and he turned his head, squinting against the sun to get a clearer view of him. He almost smiled as their gazes met and Jason beamed up at him, the sunlight catching in his eyes. Normally that would be more than enough to sustain a smile on Howard’s face, but today he was too anxious. What did raise a smile from him, however, was that Jason knew him well enough by now to sense this and so he leant in for a kiss. Howard slowly pulled him closer, willing to be charmed, and he wrapped one arm around his back, a gesture Jason mirrored, and as their lips came together Howard could feel the stress ebbing away bit by bit, trickling down to his nerve-endings and fizzling out. The kiss was brief, altogether more casual than the passionate kisses of the night before when they were curled together on Jason’s sofa, and yet it was still more serious than the playful pecks exchanged a week ago when Jason had turned up unannounced at one of Howard’s gigs. The gesture was just as meaningful though and Howard appreciated it just as much, maybe more. This was something that went beyond the first blush of love. As Howard’s hand came to rest on his hip, Jason placed his own hand over the top of it, giving it a small squeeze before leaning back to meet Howard’s gaze again. Howard found he wasn’t even surprised at the knowing glimmer he saw in Jason’s eyes – it was something he saw more and more of, a reminder that Jason knew him now, knew him beyond what most people knew; he knew that he liked to dance and that he told bad jokes when he got nervous, he knew how he liked his coffee and he knew how to tell when he was lying. And one thing Jason had become better at than anyone else was knowing when Howard was scared. It was something which Howard didn’t usually like people knowing – he was often embarrassed by his own shyness – but when Jason knew it was different somehow. Because Jason could make the fear seem smaller – he looked at Howard like he could conquer the world...and it made Howard think that maybe he really could.
“You know you shouldn’t really think of it like meeting someone new, How. Think of it more like meeting me all over again. It’s mostly the same genes...just not quite as good as mine, of course,” Jason smiled mischievously and Howard chuckled, cupping Jason’s face in his hand and kissing him once on the lips.
“Well that goes without saying,” he chuckled with a slight roll of his eyes but Jason pulled a face, elbowing him jokingly in the ribs.
“It’s too late to play it cool, Donald, I know you like me.” Howard laughed, shaking his head slightly and looking down, a hint of shyness creeping back on him. It still surprised him sometimes that someone like Jason could actually be happy being liked by Howard. On first meeting Jason was charming and funny, but Howard found he often left a first impression of timid and awkward. Although, even he had to admit, he was more like himself when Jason was around, more able to relax. When he first met Jason, his jokes hadn’t even been half-bad.
“Yeah well, if you show up at any more of my gigs then I might start to think you like me too,” Howard said into his chest and Jason put a finger to his lips then, frowning in an exaggerated show of confusion.
“Gigs? What gigs? I don’t know what you mean,” he insisted, flashing a sly grin at Howard, who laughed and pulled him back in close for a kiss on the temple. The truth was Jason had been showing up at his gigs unexpectedly for months now; there was no pattern to it, so the gesture remained somewhat of a surprise each time, but it had happened more times than they’d had actual dates. Everything normally came so naturally to them and very little had to be forced or planned in advance. And, Howard supposed, that was the problem now. “It’s not really forced, you know, just coz we planned it,” Jason murmured, seemingly reading Howard’s thoughts. He leant in closer, reaching his hand up to Howard’s chin and turning his head to face him. “You know I’ll still love you, even if he hates you, don’t you?” Howard smiled at that.
“I do now.” Jason’s lips curved into a small smile too and he put his forehead against Howard’s.
“Then smile, Donald, coz you’ve got nothing to lose.”
It was as Howard leant in for another kiss that the interruption came.
“Alright, hands where I can see ‘em please!”
“Why are people always saying that to us?!” Jason joked, winking at Howard before turning his head to look over at his twin, who had come to a stop just opposite their table. “Hey Justin,” he added and Justin smirked.
“Hey yourself. So this is the reason I never see you anymore.” Justin was looking at Howard as he spoke and, even with Jason at his side, he could feel the fear returning. He hated meeting new people, always had since he was a kid. He was shy with new people, always worried what they thought of him, and, when it actually mattered what people thought of him, the shyness turned into an out-and-out phobia. Justin Orange’s bright blue eyes weren’t unkind, but there was something there that worried Howard, something different to what he saw in Jason’s almost-identical shade of blue. Was it a challenge? Whatever it was, it made Howard’s heart beat entirely out of rhythm. He should have known, he supposed, that dating one of a pair of twins would have its complications.
“Shut up, Justin, you’ve hardly missed me. Go and get yourself a pint and we can catch up, ok?” Jason was smiling as he spoke, but Howard could hear a different note in his tone and that was how he knew he hadn’t imagined the challenge in Justin’s stare. A challenge which Jason was putting a stop to with a challenge of his own. Howard felt Jason squeeze his knee underneath the table and he knew for sure what Jason was thinking; Howard Donald, I will fight for you.
“So you’re the one who has finally got my brother to start actually carrying his mobile phone with him when he leaves the house.” Howard smiled tightly as Justin sat down opposite him five minutes later, and Jason rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“Play nice, Justin, I mean it. Coz if you don’t, then I’m going to be telling mum what really happened at Tamsin Sharp’s sixteenth birthday party that summer in ’84,” Jason warned his brother and Justin visibly flinched before looking back at Howard.
“Blimey. I hope you know, Howard Donald, that is some serious stuff.” For a little while at least, Justin had seemed impressed by his brother’s new boyfriend.
The moment Howard saw him he wished he had given in to the selfishness he had fought so hard to deny. It was easier to be noble when what he wanted had seemed impossible, when the only clear thought he’d been able to cling onto was that he needed Jason to survive, but now, standing so close, and Jason looking for all the world like he’d just fallen asleep on the sofa, Howard realised he wasn’t the noble sort because all he wanted was for the others to leave. To know Jason as a son, as a brother, as a friend – it was nothing, just the sliver of silver forming the crescent of a moon. To know Jason as the man smiling sleepily up at you from beneath the bed-sheets was to know a million different things which could be so easily lost, had been so nearly so easily lost, that day and many other days in the past. It was to know something beyond this figure fashioned from flesh and bone, it was to possess the darkness that nobody else saw. Doctor Whelan spoke softly to them and Howard didn’t listen. Suddenly ungrateful and stubborn – all the flashes of his own darkness – Howard couldn’t even muster a ‘thank you’ for the man who had worked so hard at keeping his world from falling apart. There was something murmured about informing the ward sister if Jason woke up, some reassuring words about shifts not ending until midnight, some talk of Jason being strong. Howard nodded absently at all the wrong moments and twitched his fingers impatiently. Jason’s hair was dark and tousled – he’d been growing it out recently, Howard recalled with a smile – and it fell across his forehead in an uneven line that Howard wanted to brush away. He didn’t look how Howard had expected him to look – not broken like the people who lay in soap opera hospital beds, unlike them he wasn’t pale or full up of lifelessness, he wasn’t a mess of wires and bandage. He was still Jason; his skin that warm-tan colour, still breathing in and out in his own Jason rhythm. Doctor Whelan hesitated, his eyes falling on Howard before he glanced back to Jenny and Justin with a tight smile – ‘I’ll leave you be’ he said and Jenny thanked him quietly. But Howard was already moving over to the bed, his hand halfway to Jason’s before Doctor Whelan’s shoes had even squeaked their goodbye.
Jason looked so reassuringly like himself that Howard almost smiled. Even this close he looked no different, not in any way that mattered. His sprained left wrist was strapped tightly and there were cuts across his face, but his lips still curved up ever-so-slightly, the way they always did when he slept. Stubble graced his jawline and Howard smiled as he remembered the feeling of it scratching his fingers lightly when they’d kissed goodbye that morning. He took Jason’s hand and it felt heavy and solid in his own.
He wasn’t sure how it had come to this. Some stupid argument over keeping the apartment tidy had escalated and suddenly Jason was up off the sofa, shouting and seething, gesturing wildly as Howard sat in startled silence. It wasn’t like him, not really. The two of them were so good at bickering and they had turned it into their secret game, a secret code of affection between the two of them that they never allowed to get out of control. But tonight was different – tonight Jason was ready for a fight. It was so unlike him; he rarely raised his voice, stubborn though he was, Jason would rather back down and lose the fight than make a scene. Suddenly a phone was thrown and Howard’s head snapped up. It landed nowhere near him – no attempt at accuracy, because Howard knew Jason had better aim than that – but it was enough to change the stakes. Jason was still shouting, not quite tearful but there was something unsteady in his voice as he reeled off reasons why Howard’s priorities were wrong; stop chasing me round the house trying to kiss me and actually help for a change was possibly the intended message but Howard was past caring. Instead of smiling vaguely into his chest with amusement at Jason’s uncharacteristic display, suddenly Howard felt ready for a fight too and he was instantly on his feet, spinning round to meet Jason’s gaze. Two sets of bright blue eyes blazed brightly at each other across the room.
“Enough, Jay, just...enough, ok? I’m not going to do this with you. I’m not going to turn our relationship into some flow-chart of yes-or-no answers and priorities and rules, I don’t want it to become that man-made a thing. I love you, Jay, but sometimes loving you is like trying to love the rain.” Jason stilled then, his momentum lost, his mouth was still open slightly but his body lacked that angry rigidity of before and there was something more familiar in those blue eyes. Howard knew Jason’s body, his face, knew every clue in it, and he could see the tiniest of creases across his brow, there as an invitation – no, a plea – for Howard to talk him down. “You pervade everything in my life, Jay, everything. I can feel you seeping into my skin but...I can’t hold onto you, you give me nothing to grasp.” Howard swallowed, looking away shyly. His fingers twitched at his sides and he wanted to get out then, wanted to hide somewhere and get away from his own words. He was still getting used to being loved so honestly – honesty hadn’t been a feature of his past relationships, his own self-defence mechanism that had often left others hurt. But Jason’s eyes were still on him.
Jason had softened so quickly, so quietly, that perhaps if Howard hadn’t known him so well he wouldn’t have noticed it, still wouldn’t have dared to look up. But Howard looked up and saw Jason’s eyes glitter, a smile playing on his lips. He was almost laughing and it almost made Howard laugh too. The space between them was crossed in a second, but Howard wasn’t sure which one of them moved. Or at least, he wasn’t sure until Jason rested his hands on his chest and pressed a single, short kiss to his lips.
“I’m right here, love.” Howard put his hands on Jason’s hips. His thumb slipped under the hem of Jason’s shirt and he could feel the warmth of his skin. It was funny, Howard thought, that this man had been shouting at him not two minutes ago. It was funny, Howard thought, that this man had been halfway across the room, his blue eyes on fire, just a matter of seconds before. He cupped Jason’s cheek and stroked his thumb across it, leaning their foreheads together. Contact. Howard was a man who needed the physical reassurance that contact gave him and Jason knew it. He had moved his arms so they were around Howard’s neck and his hands were playing with his curls and he was smiling knowingly – his way of apologising. “I’m right here, love,” he murmured again.
“Explain to me again why you thought a waistcoat was the closest thing to a jacket you’d be requiring to face a Mancunian summer?!” Gary chuckled as he and Mark stepped out of the hospital doors and into the rainy night. Mark sighed quietly and studied the rain, his round eyes twinkling as they reflected the shifting light.
“I guess it’s just that...when I woke up this morning, I had this incredible conviction that everything was going to be ok, you know? I was sure of it.” Gary kissed the top of Mark’s head before sliding off his own coat and wrapping it around Mark’s small shoulders.
“Maybe you were right, maybe you just got the wrong day,” he suggested in a murmur and Mark smiled distantly.
“Maybe.” Gary squeezed Mark’s shoulders firmly. “Besides, we were in Stoke this morning. And the summers aren’t half as wet there,” Mark added, flicking a playful glance up at Gary, who raised an eyebrow. “It’s true. They’re more...a damp grey sort of colour. And there’s quite a few hills and things, makes for fewer puddles.” Gary had to laugh then.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he nodded before turning his gaze back to the rain. For a moment he and Mark stood and watched as the shower eased briefly into a drizzle before gathering its strength for a fresh downpour. There were surprisingly few people around – a few stray patients milled about the covered pavement just in front of the hospital doors and a man in a fluorescent jacket picked litter whilst whistling absently to himself – but somehow Mark and Gary felt claustrophobic. It was as though the rain was trying to box them in, trap them in their own uncertainty. The darkness was muggy, but a breeze was briefly whipped in with the rain and Mark shivered slightly, pulling Gary’s coat more tightly around him. For a moment it was possible to taste summer in the air, a brief glimpse at what the day should have been. The rain was making shadows on the pavement as it fell down past the streetlamps and Mark couldn’t help but think how similar those patterns were to the dancing shadows which the sunlight cast out on the grass at Trentham Gardens as it made its way through the leaves on the trees. Isn’t it funny, he thought, how uncertainty could mean nothing one day and everything the next?
“Jay’s going to be ok. Him and Howard will be ok,” he said softly into the quiet. Gary didn’t look at him, but he smiled and nodded slowly.
“It’s what they do, I think; come out the other side. And Jay is more resilient than he looks.”
“I hope we all are.”
“And by all you mean...?” Gary glanced down at Mark, his blue eyes startlingly bright in the darkness. Mark sighed, resting his head against Gary’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
“I don’t know, Gaz. I just...don’t know. I mean; four of us, five of us...what difference does it make when we’re all of us so screwed up? I don’t care anymore, Gaz. I can’t care anymore. I just want us all to be...less broken. I thought we made each other less broken but...now I’m not so sure.”
“We’re not broken, Marko, we’re all just...works in progress.” Mark smiled.
“I dunno, Gaz. I’d say you’re pretty much the finished article.”
“Don’t be daft,” Gary chuckled but Mark’s smile didn’t waver.
“I’m not being daft. It’s the truth.” Gary met Mark’s gaze slowly, cautiously, hardly daring to consider the words. A feeling of responsibility for them all crept up on him and he quickly looked away. “I love you,” Mark added in a whisper. Gary smiled.
“I love you too.” Mark slipped his hand into Gary’s and squeezed tightly and Gary took in a gulp of cool air, enjoying the feeling of it as it filled his lungs.
“Come on, let’s order a taxi.”
“In this weather? Gaz, there’s probably not a taxi in Manchester that isn’t booked! I knew we should’ve driven here...”
“I don’t think either of us was in any state to be driving. Come on, you go take a seat over there and I’ll just phone and see what they can do, ok?”
“Ok. But I’m telling you, Gaz, we’ll end up here all night.”
“Worst comes to the worst I’ll phone Dawn, she said she’d wait up for news anyway...and knowing her, she’d probably be glad of the job. She likes to feel useful in a crisis does Dawn.”
As Mark headed over to the bench to take a seat, Gary reached into his pocket, quickly fishing out his phone and turning it on. A thousand and one thoughts were jumping back and forth in his mind, and he knew he needed a task, something to concentrate on. When focused, his energy could achieve anything, more or less. He didn’t know where the skill came from, but it had become his coping strategy; turn emotion and strife into positive action, into a game-plan, into a solution. Gary’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, distracting him slightly, and he squinted down at the screen; three missed calls, one voicemail. But Gary was hardly registering the detail, too distracted by the name. The call log was clear, all the calls had come from the same number; ‘Bob Mobile’. With a cautious glance in Mark’s direction, Gary pressed to hear the voicemail and lifted the phone to his ear. He half-expected a barrage of abuse, or perhaps a few more insults, but something told him to listen anyway, some inner faith persuading him that patience was the key to resolution.
“Gaz...I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I tried to call you, you know? I’ve been trying to call you but I can’t get you coz you’re probably busy with Jay and...and I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about that because I do, I do, ok? I really do I just...I didn’t focus on it, not before I didn’t but now...now it’s all I can fucking think of. I love Jay...he’s great, isn’t he? Him and Howard are great. And I don’t know...I don’t know why I was such a tit before when I should’ve listened and now I can’t stop worrying about Jay and I want to know what’s happening, Gaz. Please, Gaz. I need to know what’s happening with him. With him and...and with Mark...and...and you...look, about what I said...Gaz, I just...but you’re probably...you’re probably busy. Cleaning up the mess for me. And looking after everyone and...and I know you’ll be the one holding it together right now and I want you to know that...that even though I take the piss out of you for that I think it’s great and...shit, the message time’s about to cut out on me but...Gaz, just...please, let me know if Jay is ok? And Mark? Please, Gaz. I’m sorry. Please.” The message cut off abruptly and Gary blinked in surprise, lowering his phone and staring down at it as though he suspected it belonged to someone else. Gary cast another glance at Mark and he bit his lip. Should he tell him? Should he even care? What difference did a slightly alcohol-tinged message even make? He looked back down at his phone and sighed. Time to make a choice, Barlow. Time to make a choice.
To Howard’s relief, in this room the rain sounded muffled, faraway like it couldn’t touch him. Like it couldn’t touch Jason. Someone had cleaned the grit from Jason’s cheek and Howard’s hands were clean now too. The puddle-water had gone from his skin and his curls were almost dry and it was as though the storm hadn’t happened and he was left staring at the debris trying to work out what on earth had happened. He rested one hand lightly against Jason’s arm, his eyes focusing on nothing and everything all at once. He wanted to ignore the cuts and bruises, but he kept catching glimpses and the image haunted him, the outlines flickering up behind his eyelids like a terrible film. Jenny was watching him, he knew. She had one hand on Jason’s shoulder, the other on Justin’s arm, but her eyes were trained on Howard – she had the same piercing gaze as Jason and he found it both unnerving and calming all at once to feel that stare. Such a familiar sensation, such a familiar sensation and it felt like home and Howard felt an ache of longing. Home. He wanted to be home again, with Jason’s eyes on him and the rain outside not touching their lives.
“They’re only cuts, Howard,” Jenny said gently after a moment and Howard shook his head.
“They’re cuts on top of cuts, Jen,” he reminded her and Jenny looked away. She couldn’t argue with him or tell him otherwise, she knew just as well as he did that Jason bore scars. That boy of hers – the boy who all her friends had always told her would break hearts one day with his smile, the boy with the pretty eyes and the handsome set to his jaw and the reputation as a charmer – he hadn’t been free of scars for so long now that it had become a part of him. The cuts healed, the words died beneath the rain and things changed, for the better, but nothing was ever forgotten. Howard slowly moved his hand from Jason’s arm, intertwining their fingers instead, and for a moment Jenny and Justin both watched him, trying to gauge what was going through his head. “Sometimes it’s just...it’s hard to know whether I’m more scared of losing him...or of breaking him...” Howard’s voice was little more than a whisper but Jenny’s eyes were kind and she shook her head.
“You could never break him, Howard. And you will never lose him,” she insisted but Howard looked down.
“Then why does it keep happening, Jen?” he remarked. For a moment silence descended on the room. That was until the smallest of sighs broke the peace – Jason’s lips moved, an almost imperceptible movement but so longed for by those gathered in the room that three pairs of eyes all came to rest on Jason’s face. But Jason made no other move and they all looked away again, feeling foolish and frightened all at once.
Howard pulled his hood up over his head, squinting against the beat of the rain. He operated in beats, knew the beat of every emotion, knew Jason’s heartbeat and knew the beat of the rain. He’d had plenty of time to learn them all, but the rain had done the most work with him. At night on the glass of the bedroom window it would come and play him its repertoire as he contemplated the space beside him. In the morning it pressed itself up to the side of the apartment building, experimenting with a slower rhythm in an attempt to be heard over the echo of Jason’s voice in a hollow anti-lullaby.
A car splashed through a puddle up the street and he visibly flinched, his head turning in the direction of the sound instinctively. Jason? But no, Jason wasn’t there. Again. Howard wished he was immune to hope sometimes. Its sudden stab at every sound was, he realised, far more painful than the perpetual throb of loss that lived at the back of his throat these days. At least with the loss he knew where he stood. But the hope...it offered so much and delivered so little. He closed his eyes and all he could hear for miles was the pitter-pat (pitter-pat) of the rain. He’d wait for however long it took to hear something other than the sound of the rain. The notes of Jason’s laugh, the beat of his rambling stories as he whispered them to Howard at night when they hid beneath the sheets.
When it came it was unceremonious. Justin was all but asleep and Jenny too had her eyes closed, a hand to her face as she tried to stifle a yawn. Howard was hunched, his hand still holding Jason’s, his head bowed as he tried to stop remembering (because he was sure the ability to remember was one of his greatest flaws.) Outside the door the soft sound of nurses exchanging information in low whispers almost obscured the moment entirely. “Ow.” The voice was quiet, groaning. “Fuck.” Jenny sat up immediately, her head turning and her eyes widening briefly, she leant forward in her seat, stretching out a hand to brace herself as she placed her other hand on Jason’s arm. Howard too had turned, lifting his head, one hand on Jason’s shoulder. Because he knew that voice and for once it was more than a hopeful echo in his head. “Urgh,” Jason mumbled again and Howard smiled dazedly as Jason scrunched up his face slightly.
“Sweetheart?” Jenny whispered, cautious but unable to hide the anticipation in her voice, and Jason turned his head towards her, a small crease of pain briefly appearing on his face as his eyes slowly flickered open. Jenny was sniffing back her tears and shaking her head at him, a fond smile on her face as she rested a tender hand to her son’s cheek. Jason closed his eyes again a moment and when he reopened them they were more focused, some sort of awareness coming to him as he took in the scene. A small, bemused smile touched his lips as he took in his mother’s face and he stretched himself slightly, settling more comfortably on the pillow, his eyes shining despite the dimness of the room.
“What are you crying for, softie?” Jason managed, his voice hoarse and tired but his eyes so familiarly alive that Howard couldn’t help but grin.
“You’ll be the death of me you big idiot,” Jenny choked out with a small laugh, dabbing at her eyes and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Jason rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand weakly – his wrist was strapped up but he seemed to give it little care. “I should’ve had girls. And definitely not twins,” Jenny sighed, giving up on stopping her tears in favour of placing her other hand on top of Jason’s and clasping it tightly. Jason’s sleepy smile was wide and he scrunched his face jokingly.
“You’d have had less fun,” he said and it was Jenny’s turn to roll her eyes.
“He’s got a point, mum, we are kind of spectacular you know.” Justin was awake now, sitting forward in his chair and grinning, with relief more than anything, at his brother, with whom he shared a mischievous blue look. For a moment they were twelve again, just back home after slipping away from their mother on a shopping trip earlier in the day, scaring her half to death and then some. “Double trouble, right?” Justin raised an eyebrow at Jason and Jason laughed a muted laugh, not quite his real laugh but close enough to make Howard smile.
“Double trouble,” Jason agreed quietly.
“Well then you’ll be the death of Howard, that’ll make you sorry,” Jenny sighed with a fond smile and she glanced up at Howard then, flashing him a wink. It seemed to be the first Jason noticed of Howard’s presence because when he turned to look at him his blue eyes were a different hue and his expression a little surprised. Howard smiled down at him and shrugged shyly.
“Mornin’, love,” he said, so often his whisper when he woke Jason up sneaking back into bed after a gig finished late. But Jason didn’t echo back his ‘Mornin’, How’ and that made Howard look at him, really look at him, look him in the eye without wavering. And he knew immediately. Jason's brow furrowed slightly and Howard slowly withdrew his hand. Jason let their fingers slip apart without comment and for a moment everyone in the room watched the two men’s fingers sliding away from each other across the hospital sheets. And then Howard and Jason looked back up at each other. Both men were simultaneously struck with the urge to hold the stare and the urge to look away – Howard wanted to run and Jason wanted to question him, but neither one of them was capable of acting on their feelings, paralyzed instead by some instinctive fear of being separated.
“Jay...” Howard said, so softly it was hardly more than a breath. Jason’s expression briefly softened and for a moment Howard saw him, his Jason, but he knew it wasn’t the same. “Jay,” he whispered again, and this time it was a plea. Jason opened his mouth and then closed it again, his eyes briefly flicking to his mother, who sat in nervous silence on his opposite side.
“Sweetheart?” she tried but he was already looking at Howard again. Those eyes were as familiar as his own to him, but he had no words to attach to them, no memories that he could trace back to them. Just outlines. And the worst part was that he could tell that the poor man knew.
“I have to...I have to go.” Jenny, Justin and Jason watched in silence as Howard got up and walked away.
“I should go.” Jason turned at the sound of Howard’s voice, his blue eyes were steady and bright in the half-light of the room. For a moment the two men regarded each other in silence and Howard didn’t move, because something in Jason’s face told him to wait, to hold his breath – his previous discomfort was gone beneath the calmness of Jason’s gaze and he didn’t want to run anymore. Jason reached across and took Howard’s hand in his own, those eyes of his reflecting the Christmas lights and the music and the people and all the other things which Howard had forgotten were there.
“Stay,” Jason said, his voice soft. Howard smiled slightly and Jason’s thumb stroked gently along the back of his hand. He knew Howard’s decision and wordlessly he turned his attention back to where his father was telling an animated story to his assembled sons. Beneath the table, he squeezed Howard’s hand.
The rain had stopped in Stoke-on-Trent, just as the darkness began to consume the looming outline of the incinerator more completely, dead street-lamps leaving nothing but the lights of the Britannia to light the space across the fields to Robbie’s house. They sent a red glow across the hillside and the only sound for miles was that of the stadium’s flags clanking against their flagpoles. Robbie could hear the metallic echo from his bedroom, though that wasn’t what was keeping him awake. There were two films in his head which kept playing behind his eyelids; one of Jason, black and blue, and one of Mark, sitting in amidst the broken glass, wide-eyed. In both films the men stared at him with that sort of disappointment that penetrated you physically – they were both men who had put their faith in him, sharing jokes and advice and music, always trying not to judge him, always trying not to fight him...but he had left them with no choice but to judge, to fight. He’d let them both down, hadn’t he. He let out a sigh and rolled over for the hundredth time, punching his pillow and dropping his head heavily into the dent, staring sullenly out of the bedroom window and down to where he could just about make out the flags of the Britannia – their ends frayed and their colours faded. He found a strange beauty in the sight; to him so many things he saw came with melodies and meanings in his head, it gave the world a different context and, in moments like this, when he was almost-sober, he found it so easy to see the extraordinary in almost anything. The flags fluttered and they made patterns out of the shadows – something beautiful was formed in the darkness.
After a minute or so, Robbie’s eyes strayed from the window as he noticed his mobile lying on the floor. When he’d first stumbled in out of the rain and collapsed onto his bed, he must have dropped it from his hand. He’d waited at least an hour, maybe longer, for Gary to call him back, pressing the phone to his lips and waiting for its high-pitched ring to pierce through his alcohol-fuzzed mind. But the sound had never come and Robbie had trudged back up the hill and into bed – where he should’ve just stayed this morning, he had reasoned. With a flinch he remembered his only slightly-slurred message to Gary and he rubbed his hands over his face, more convinced than ever that he would never see any of those four men or their dusty piano ever again.
Slowly Robbie pushed himself up in the bed and stretched to grab the phone and, to his surprise, ‘1 New Message’ lit the screen. A small part of him wanted to throw the phone out of the window and put the pillow over his head – Gary Barlow’s opinion of him was something he longed to know but somehow he couldn’t imagine that opinion was very high. He wanted Gary to think well of him, he wanted Gary to say it was all ok, but he knew that was a long-shot to say the least. The thought of that rejection made him feel queasy – although that might have been the booze.
He expected a low, angry warning. Gary was capable of a cold, detached sort of anger that Robbie found far more frightening than the screaming rage he himself was capable of. He had no idea whether or not Gary could throw as good a punch as him, but could he command a situation better? It was undeniable. And yet, as the message began, Robbie could hear no coldness. Just a tiredness – a tiredness that was tinged, however, with the famous Barlow determination.
“Jay’s going to be ok, Rob, or at least, the signs are good. And as for Mark...look, I’m not going to lie to you Rob, but I think we should talk about this in person, after we’ve both had a good night’s rest, yeah? I’ll come down to Stoke tomorrow. We can try and clear the air. G’night, Rob. God Bless.”
Howard could feel the moisture in the air before he’d even made it out of the doors. To his own surprise he wasn’t crying – someone had hollowed him out without him noticing, and pieces of his heart just rattled around the empty space inside and it didn’t even hurt any more. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and bit his lip, fidgeting from foot to foot. He could get out now, he could walk out into the rain and never come back. Jason would hardly notice he’d gone after all. But was it really that simple? He still knew those eyes even if those eyes didn’t know him. And somewhere in the back of his mind Howard realised the significance in the smallest of details; he had pulled his hand away from Jason’s, but Jason had made no move. It was silly, he knew it was silly, but it still meant something. Maybe it meant everything. But then...Jason hadn’t told him to stay. Stay had always been one of Jason’s favourite things to say to him before.
There was no explanation – that was the nurse’s way of explaining it anyway, and if she’d been talking to some other poor bugger then Howard would’ve sympathised with her, trying to do the impossible. Memory was a funny thing, a person could forgot any number of details, big or small. They could remember after an hour, they could remember after a year. They could never remember at all. Maybe they could forget and be better for it, Howard mused.
He had to get out. He wanted to forget too. He didn’t want to play with his memories anymore.
Chapter Ten: Just After Midnight, Wednesday Morning
It was the only place he had wanted to be but, he realised now, he couldn’t be here. Here, the place which had always protected him before. They had fought here, but that had only made it sacred ground, the place where they fought but they stayed. Jason had told him to stay so many times – ‘well stay then, How’ the words which had made it Howard’s home years before – and somewhere in the back of his mind he supposed he’d stormed back here with such determination because this was the place where ‘stay’ had become much more than four letters, it had become a life. Maybe he’d hoped that, even if Jason hadn’t said the words himself back there at the hospital, perhaps they would still echo round these walls. But standing here now in the dark, alone, Howard felt as though a beautiful invitation had been sharply, and wordlessly, revoked.
He’d been warned by Jason’s brothers when he first moved in. They’d told him to behave, insisted that Jason was so precious about his apartment and he’d be lucky if he was even allowed to move his shoes in. He’d chosen not to tell them that Jason had been letting him keep a wash-bag in the bathroom for months, or that there was a special shelf in Jason’s fridge for Howard’s favourite food. And Jason, for his part, hadn’t argued with them, instead sharing a secretive smile with Howard over the tops of their heads, because he knew Howard had had a spare key since December. It had been their home before they’d decided to call it that, it had become something more than just bricks and mortar the moment the two of them were in it – a fact Jason expressed in silent gestures; making room for Howard’s record collection underneath the bed and for his coffee machine in the kitchen, painting the spare room for Grace and switching out the CD player in his bedroom for a newer model with an iPod dock and better bass. Howard had attempted to say thank you, but Jason had shrugged and smiled; ‘the space was there to be filled’.
Looking at the apartment now, Howard realised Jason had been right – because, wasn’t he always? The space had been there to be filled and they had filled every inch of it. Physical things like Jason’s guitar and their new television, Howard’s laptop sitting in a nest of wires on the desk, a small stack of records on the coffee table and Jason’s new favourite book on the arm of the chair. Jason’s laptop caught his eye – he usually took it everywhere with him, it was the one piece of technology he tolerated, though Howard doubted it had ever been used to half of its potential, but today it had been left, not-quite-closed on the breakfast bar, a notebook and pen abandoned next to it, all a nod to a life suddenly suspended. There was normally always someone up late working on something in this apartment, always someone basking in the screen-glow and biting on a thumbnail or a pen-cap, lost in thought, but tonight everything lay abandoned and Howard was reluctant to disturb it, as if at any moment different versions of himself and Jason might come padding down the corridor and flop down onto the sofa. He kept expecting Jason to appear from the shadows and make him jump, start telling him to smile or asking him to dance. Jason always liked to dance.
“Still up?” Howard jumped slightly at the sound. He hadn’t noticed Jason come in, too busy staring disconsolately at his computer screen and gnawing off his thumbnail bit by bit. It was late, he supposed, well after midnight, but he’d known he wouldn’t sleep and so he hadn’t put that much effort into trying. He’d lain beside Jason in bed for a while, watching the ceiling, but in the end he’d still wound up back here, messing with his own head.
“I’m just...sorting some last minute stuff for tomorrow...y’ know...” he mumbled into his chest. Jason’s eyes were twinkling in the semi-darkness, the strange bluish glow of the laptop screen casting his face slightly in shadow as he came over to join Howard on the sofa.
“You’ll be fine, Howard Donald. I believe in you,” he said softly and Howard smiled slightly, glancing out of the large apartment windows and shaking his head.
“I dunno, Jay.” No matter how well he did, no matter how many times someone told him he was born for this job, the same old insecurities always came back. He didn’t care if it was just a local newspaper, he didn’t know what to say – why couldn’t they just come to the event and dance like everyone else? And why did they need more people to dance anyway – Manchester’s finest DJs would bring Manchester’s finest dancers, the two went together, and that was one thing that Howard was sure of because Jason was sitting quietly at his side even now, his chin resting on his shoulder. The two went together, they really did. “You think I’m an idiot don’t you.” Jason didn’t reply and Howard didn’t really want him to. Maybe in the daylight Jason would’ve laughed and agreed and cuffed him round the head, but here and now, in the darkness and the quiet, all he did was watch Howard with his light blue eyes, his body close and his breaths even. “I should just be proud they even asked,” Howard added softly, turning his head even further away. “You can say it, I don’t mind.” There was a pause in which Howard waited for a ‘Don’t be daft’ or an elbow to his ribs, but nothing broke the peace except the muffled sound of his iTunes still playing away through his headphones.
“Dance with me.” It took Howard by surprise and he turned his head immediately, his eyes coming to meet with Jason’s.
“What?”
“Dance with me,” Jason repeated simply, casually, reaching across Howard and pulling the headphone cord from his laptop. He smiled when he heard what song was playing and before Howard could question him further he had taken his hand. Howard’s laptop slid onto the abandoned sofa as Jason led him out past the coffee table and placed his arms around his neck. “I love this song,” he murmured, as if that was all the explanation needed. For a moment they slow-danced wordlessly, Jason’s eyes gazing out of the window as Howard watched the top of his head in stunned silence; Jason always amazed him, because he looked at the world differently to Howard and it was fascinating the way he used the view. He did stupid things sometimes without explanation, but it always made things better, Howard knew. Jason let out a small sigh. “It reminds me of you.” Howard smiled then, a proper smile that reached his eyes. His hands were on Jason’s hips and he must’ve tightened his grip slightly because suddenly Jason’s eyes were away from the window and gazing up at him. There was something instantly alive in those eyes, Howard noticed, and he knew it was because they were dancing and Jason could sense him finally admitting defeat, un-tensing his shoulders and really joining in. “Look at you, Donald; it’s nearly 1am on the day the world ends and you’re dancing,” Jason smiled, his tone only lightly teasing. Howard chuckled softly, cupping Jason’s face in his hand and placing a single kiss to his forehead.
“Yeah well, I can’t think of any better way to spend the end of the world.”
There were messages collecting on his phone – texts and voicemails and missed calls lighting up the screen one after the other. He was lying, spread-eagled on his back, staring at the bedroom ceiling as the wind whipped rain loudly up against the windows. The sound echoed throughout the apartment and, in an effort to obscure it, he picked his phone up off the bedside table and looked at the names on the screen. Gary had called the most, but that was to be expected he supposed. Him and Mark had still be outside when Howard had emerged from the hospital, not that Howard had acknowledged either of them. Gary had chased him a short way, coming out into the rain and making a grab for his arm – Howard had shaken him off and kept walking and he wasn’t sure how long Gary had stood there shouting after him. He supposed Gary must’ve got soaked to the skin , because the pair of them were as determined as each other, even if their determination had been turned in opposite directions that night. He felt guilty for making Gary stand out in the rain – because God knows he knew how horrible that was – but he simply hadn’t wanted to talk to Gary, he couldn’t face it. He hadn’t wanted to explain what was happening. Looking back he knew he must’ve given Gary the fright of his life – Mark and Gary could only have assumed the worst from his hollow eyes and his determined march out into the darkness. He knew it was a ridiculous thought, but he had felt like he would be betraying Jason somehow if he said the words aloud, like he was accusing him of something which could never be taken back. Howard listened to the only message Gary had left; a simple ‘I’m sorry, Howard, I really am’ that told him a million more things beyond what it actually said. Howard knew that Gary knew then and something in his chest ached dully at that, because he still wanted to protect Jason, he didn’t want him diminished in Gary’s eyes.
After Gary there were others. Dawn had called and so had Crystal, though Howard hadn’t a clue who had gotten word to either of them. Grace had phoned him five times, leaving a message twice (one time upset and the next time furious). She was demanding to come home and to be told what was going on. There was something in the way she spoke to him that reminded Howard oddly of Jason, because her emotion was clear but it didn’t break her voice even once. Vicky had called afterwards, her message somewhere between an ‘I told you so’ and sympathy. Grace could be heard in the background of the message, still insisting she wanted to see Jason, but Howard knew he couldn’t let her, not now. He couldn’t even let her know – she’d be angry when she found out, he supposed, but for now couldn’t she just be happy Jason was alive? He didn’t want her to feel what he felt; the potent concoction of overwhelming relief and bitter despair. And, though he was ashamed to admit it, a sense of betrayal, as though a promise had been broken.
The next message, at least, made Howard smile, albeit briefly. No doubt alerted by Crystal, Monika had phoned from the stalls of the Oper, mid-clean-up after a particularly raucous performance of Cats, and Howard was surprised to find he actually smiled at her muttering German curse-words at him down the line. She threatened to book the next flight over if he didn’t let her know he was ok within the next week, ignoring a colleague in the background who reminded her that Cats was one of the ushers’ biggest-workload shows and she couldn’t afford the time off. She insisted to Howard it was nonsense and reiterated her threat before hanging up, sighing in desperate German that she hoped everything would be ok. She was the sort of person who would rather spread herself too thin than feel as though she had let anyone down and that reminded Howard of Jason – she was someone full of good and he wanted to keep hold of that goodness, felt like he needed it. He ran a hand through his hair and thought about calling her back – it was nearly two in the morning there but he had a strange urge to know what the weather was like. Then he noticed one final message and his whole body was on alert again. Reluctantly he pressed the phone back to his ear, biting away at the inside of his cheek. Jenny’s voice was tired but gentle as it crackled down the line.
“He asked after you, Howard. Wanted me to make sure you were ok.” Howard closed his eyes and sank back down against the pillows. “It’s not that he doesn’t know you, Howard, you know? He just...doesn’t know your name, that’s all.”
The rain was loud against the window and yet again Howard thought it must be nice to be able to forget. Because he knew this story. Pitter-pat. He knew it too well.
He was up late, again. He wished he could go somewhere where memories couldn’t touch him, he wished he could go somewhere where the rain couldn’t touch him – because for him, the two were inextricably linked. It had been a long time since he’d slept well in a storm. They conjured up images of loneliness and arguments, of bruises and lost things, they tried to drown him in memories of muddied puddles and handwritten notes and above all they kept him holding his breath. There would always be another storm, that much was as good as a promise when you lived in Manchester. Howard shivered and rubbed at his arms, suddenly aware of how cold it was without the duvet over him – without the steady heat of Jason’s body sleeping next to him. He glanced back to the bed where Jason was still asleep. The bruises were gone now, but Howard could still tell you the exact places where they had been on Jason’s skin. Their apartment was full up of Jason again, but Howard could still see where the spaces had been – or at least, he could by a storm’s grey light, he could on nights like tonight when the raindrops made shadow-patterns on the bedroom wall. There was a rustle of the duvet and Jason turned over in his sleep, he was facing Howard, his hand curling under the pillow as he let out a small sigh, and the corner of his lips curved up. When he stilled again Howard smiled slightly, because seeing Jason peaceful was something rare and good and unspoilt by the shadows of the raindrops, even as they settled across his face. Howard turned back to the window and studied the patterns on the glass, listening as sirens wailed briefly then disappeared off into the wetness of the night. This was storm-music at its best, he supposed, and it had such a hold of him that he jumped when he felt a soft hand on his back. Jason’s arm had slipped round his waist before Howard had even realised his husband was awake and he snaked the other around until his grip was tight around Howard’s middle.
“What’s wrong, Howard Donald?” he asked, his voice so gentle and so quiet and his body so warm and so close. Howard thought about lying, toyed with the idea of saying that everything was alright. But then he looked down at Jason’s arms around his waist and realised the trust that was in that gesture and he knew it would be foolish to ruin the safety of their bedroom with the recklessness of well-meant untruths. “Tell me,” Jason whispered, placing a kiss behind Howard’s ear, his nose pressing briefly to the nape of his neck. There was a pause as Howard looked back up, his eyes straying out to the city which he had loved so much once but now he couldn’t trust.
“I hate the sound of the rain,” he murmured at last and he could feel Jason smile sadly against his back, squeeze tighter at his middle. “I hate it when it rains like this and doesn’t stop.” For a moment the two of them stood in silence, listening to the raindrops and watching them make starbursts of the city lights. Jason’s heartbeat was steady against Howard’s back and Howard liked the warmth of that sound. It was so much better than the sound of the rain.
“I don’t.” The words hung in the air a moment. Howard frowned slightly but Jason’s arms were still so tight around him that he didn’t want to move – that contact gave him something tangible to hold onto in the face of the rain’s cool whisperings of loss. “Don’t forget, love, our first kiss was in the rain.”
They had eventually managed to get back to their flat a little before midnight and, exhausted and overwhelmed, their first thoughts had been of sleep –a wordless pact forming between them to head for the bed without pausing. But once they were both in bed and the lights were off, both of them found themselves further away from sleep than ever. Waking up in Stoke-on-Trent that morning seemed a very faraway memory; the canal walk and the stadium and the steep gravel path to Robbie’s house just formed an old, oil-painting landscape, a piece of backdrop on an already-cluttered stage. The Manchester wind was loud as it huffed at the bedroom window and a shaft of orange light fell across the bed, the streetlamp across the road peeking through a gap in the curtains and illuminating just enough of the room to see the shadow-outlines of their discarded overnight bags on the floor at the end of the bed. Mark could just make out Gary’s blue eyes beside him – though they looked dark in the half-light and glittered a stormy black. Whatever he was thinking, Mark couldn’t quite pinpoint it; Gary seemed to still be half-stuck in the Stoke sunshine, seemed to still be trying to reconcile the breeze on the hillside with the broken glass on Robbie’s living room floor. And Mark couldn’t say he was much better himself, though he wished he could say his only thoughts were for poor Jason and poorer-still Howard because that would be the right thing, under the circumstances. Yet, for some reason, he still had an unshakeable faith in Jason and Howard, an unswerving belief that, even in the event of nuclear catastrophe, the two of them would still be standing there, bickering and kissing at the edge of the earth. When Justin had explained everything to them that night, and they’d stood watching Howard disappear into the rain, it had never been a question whether Howard would come back eventually. In fact, the only question Mark had managed to ask was ‘But, did Jason want him to leave?’ and Justin hadn’t even had to answer, he’d simply laughed and looked down at his hands with a resigned sort of smile. Jason had been asking Howard to stay since that first New Year’s eve together, back when they had each just started to grasp hold of who the other was and Justin had started to realise that Howard knew all his brother’s secrets. Somehow Justin’s look had conveyed everything they all knew; there was an inevitability to Howard and Jason, a sense that if they fell, they’d fall together. Watching them together was one of the things that kept Mark’s own mind clear, even in the face of Robbie’s confusion. Because it had never been like that with him and Robbie; if one of them fell, it was because the other had pushed them and that wasn’t the way a relationship should be. No, it should be more like him and Gary, because him and Gary, on their good days, were as happy to bicker and kiss as Howard and Jason. Sometimes when he watched Howard and Jason, Mark felt he and Gary were still learning, because their relationship had never been such a natural rainfall – for them there were always distractions, always things there to stunt their growth as individuals and as a couple. It had only been February when Mark had first heard Jason call Howard ‘love’, they’d been talking about something trivial, like coffee or cars, and they were smiling and it was as if they had been sitting on those shop stairs for a lifetime. Mark had always remembered that moment, and had fought for ones of his own with Gary. And perhaps that morning, in Robbie’s front room, Mark and Gary had finally found the final push they needed. Closer than ever – masters of the silent gesture, the glance up at the right moment, the hand held and the eyebrow raised – they had moved in unison to the door, packed in silence, colluded and conspired to leave Robbie to his own problems, leave the music alone and pretend they didn’t care whilst silently acknowledging each time they looked at each other that, in fact, they cared a lot, perhaps a lot more than they should.
Mark rolled onto his stomach and reached across the wrap an arm around Gary, pulling himself close to his side and nuzzling against his neck, looking to him for a promise of some sort that he knew Gary couldn’t really give. A promise that everything would be ok, perhaps? That he would fix it? Or maybe he was simply looking for reassurance that he wasn’t wrong for just assuming Jason and Howard would survive. Because he knew Robbie shouldn’t be so clearly at the forefront of his mind, he was sure he didn’t deserve it. When has Jason or Howard ever repaid his faith with broken glass? When had they ever been anything but apologetic if, for some reason, they let him down? They never picked a side, they never picked a fight. And, more importantly, Jason and Howard had never asked for their problems, life was just cruel enough to throw more at them. But Robbie asked for his problems, he seemed to thrive on them almost, like he craved the adrenaline rush of not doing the right thing. He had always had more energy than he knew what to do with, it had always got him into trouble. But if he didn’t have the band, then what would he spend that energy on? With no Gary to rage against, who was he going to pick fights with on a Saturday night? Was he going to lose?
“We should go and see Jay tomorrow.” Mark didn’t know why he said it, they both knew that wasn’t what was really on his mind, but Gary had nodded absently and squeezed Mark’s arm.
“Mm. But maybe it should just be you...don’t want to overwhelm him. Besides, you’ll know what to say more than me.”
“Where will you go then?”
“I have some things to sort out,” Gary sighed, glancing away. Mark nodded but his eyes were still wide as he regarded Gary in the darkness. He could hear something else behind his words, an unsatisfied urge to tie up loose ends, or at the very least try and make sense of the pattern those loose ends were making. And suddenly Mark knew. He didn’t know how he knew, what had given it away, but he could just tell was Gary really wanted to do.
“Gaz?”
“Mm?”
“When you go and see Rob...”
“Mark, I’m not...”
“When you go and see Rob – because I know you will – can you please just...tell him I’m tired of trying to guess his next move. Tell him just to...stop spinning. Just tell him to stop.”
By the time he woke up again, they’d all left and he was glad of that. He felt bad lying there just wishing they would go, he felt bad talking to them when his mind was elsewhere. Off with the man who had held his hand – because now that his mind was clearer he realised how much he wished he could’ve told him to stay. Stay...the word had been on his lips, he’d felt it there, could still feel it there, like it had been there, unsaid, all his life. Like it belongs to that man. He could still feel it, especially now. Now he was alone with the sound of the rain. Because being alone with that sound was painful and he needed someone who knew that and knew that that man knew it because he had seen it in his bright blue eyes. That rain was a part of that man, unending within him. And now Jason was alone with it and all he could hear in it was beauty, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. There was something in it that made the tips of his fingers burn and it was a beautiful feeling, laced with a tragedy he couldn’t pinpoint. Everything about it was familiar, but everything in that sensation felt strange. He tried to close his eyes, but all he saw was the man’s face (betrayed) and all he heard was the sound of the rain.
Chapter Eleven: Wednesday, Late Morning
He found him smiling, which was typical, or so Simon thought; Jason would be known as a smiler wherever he went, it had been that way since he was a baby and, no matter what else changed, that fact alone had always remained the same. The thing that Simon wondered at the most, however, was that Jason could wear that smile no matter what, wear it like his own defence mechanism, a charming armour. Though what it protected him from Simon wasn’t sure; was it his way of coping with adversity, or was it just his way of preventing anyone seeing the toll adversity had taken on him? Given everything Jason had been through, Simon suspected it was a mixture of both – Howard had been the only person to ever make that smile falter, and whilst his brothers saw that as proof of wrongdoing, Simon saw it as something else entirely; a sign that, thanks to Howard, Jason was still capable of doing more than just existing.
The two of them had always been close – Simon was the brother who Jason would confide in when Justin let him down, when their mum had pissed him off or when being the butt of most of the family’s jokes finally got to him. And Simon loved Jason dearly. Of course he loved all his brothers, but (and he suspected it wasn’t something he should admit) he loved Jason best. Jason was different, Jason was the first; for twenty whole minutes, Jason had been the only brother Simon had, the only other soul in the world he could be that close to. It was a thought he often came back to, something he dwelled on because he recognised a significance in it which he couldn’t quite make sense of. When the twins had come along, Simon’s status in the family had changed, and tangled up in that was the idea that Jason would always be the first, would always be the one Simon had the greatest duty to. The arrival of the twins had been the arrival of an age of adventure; both of the twins were wild, and Simon had had great fun causing chaos with the two of them. But Justin had been the ringleader, the blind adventurer of the group. Jason, meanwhile, had slowly grown to be the thinker. And there was something to be said for having an ally with a mind like Jason’s – even if he wasn’t on your side, he would take an active interest in trying to understand your point of view. Simon wished he could be that way more often; Jason seemed to have been the only one of the brothers who had inherited the trait, however. A trait that Simon credited fully to their mother.
Simon knocked softly on the doorframe of Jason’s room and at last Jason glanced up at him, his blue eyes fixing on Simon as he gave him an ear-to-ear smile. Simon almost wanted to laugh, because for a moment he didn’t see the cuts or the strapped-up hand, he just saw his brother – he had that same look on his face as he’d used to have just after Simon had first left home, when he’d finally stop by for Sunday lunch after going one too many weeks without managing to see his family. Of course, Simon realised now, it was just another of Jason’s defences, cunningly sweet and perfected over the years; that ability to make you look past his surface-damage. And it worked, because, for a moment, Simon could smile back at his brother honestly and without pity. Jason had no time for pity, after all. And yet, in this moment, wasn’t there a lot to pity him for? Simon sighed. Maybe pity was the wrong word.
“Mornin’ Trouble,” Simon smiled and Jason tilted his head.
“Trouble? Come on, Si, we both know I’m the good twin,” he retorted and Simon chuckled; Jason always let him pick up where they left off, always forgave him his absence in favour of pretending they were still those two kids sulking in the bedroom, muttering about how unfair their mother could be. It triggered a pang of guilt in Simon’s chest, because, whether Jason remembered it or not, he had been so absent from his life recently. He’d hardly seen him for months, always deciding he was too busy to make it all the way over to his apartment just for the sake of catching him away from the rest of the rabble. They’d exchanged a few words over tense Sunday lunches but, he was ashamed to admit, for the most part he had let his brothers fight it out over Howard, bickering about Jason’s life like they had any clue at all. He hadn’t wanted to pick a side; family was important, but he had always liked Howard. “Come on, Si, sit down and cheer up would you? At least it’s stopped raining,” Jason smiled, leaning back and quirking his eyebrows mischievously. Simon couldn’t help but smile back at him, rolling his eyes with affection before moving from the doorway.
“I see you’ve convinced them to let you out of intensive care,” Simon remarked as he flopped down into the chair by the bed and Jason simply shrugged, his eyes still glittering playfully.
“Yeah, all me that. Nothing to do with me being fully conscious, sitting up, talking to you right now, 90% intact...that’s all just coincidence.” Simon smiled, shaking his head. He suspected that Jason had already had speeches from both their parents so far this morning and so he decided to drop the subject, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
“I get it; you’re fine. You’re always fine,” he said, shooting Jason a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. “But come on, Jay. I’m not here on a mission from mum, I’m not dad’s spy...I’m not even working for Justin, much as he wishes I was. It’s me you’re talking to, just me. And I know you have tell me the truth; I’m the only big brother you’ve got, that should get me a bit of respect, shouldn’t it?” A slow smile touched Jason’s lips and Simon could see that there was gratitude in those blue eyes.
“Remember when we were kids, and I used to come over to your bed when I couldn’t sleep?”
“Yeah, you’d keep me up all night telling me how rubbish our brothers were,” Simon chuckled and Jason grinned back at him unashamedly, his whole face briefly lighting up. For a moment it was like they were those two kids again and Simon could see a sliver Jason at his best, his smile wide and his eyes bright. “I liked it. It was like we were the two big boys and they were the silly little kids.”
“Well that’s coz they are the silly little kids, Si. It’s not our fault we’re better,” Jason agreed with a soft laugh, looking down at his hands and letting out a sigh. Simon studied his face a moment; a face he knew so well, or at least, he’d thought he had. But that face had changed a lot since they were those two boys in bunk beds. Not because of the cuts across it or the smile-lines which now creased the corners of those eyes, but because of something else, something they’d all taken for granted; Howard. Howard was written all over Jason’s face, one way or another. Because, Simon realised, for so many years now, Jason’s face had become so open; wide smiles and eyes that glittered slightly even in the darkness, every emotion there to be read – the shutters had finally been thrown back. Howard had taken down years of barriers, barriers which Jason had put up to everyone, even them. And now Jason was different, softened. More like the kid he’d been before their dad had left, only better, wiser. Less likely to be hurt when they poked fun. But here, in this moment, there was an absence in Jason’s eyes, an acknowledgement that something was missing. It was obvious; Jason could’ve been content alone forever if it hadn’t been for Howard, could’ve lived a life of thinking and been more than fine. But the way Simon saw it, some songs are beautiful before you add the harmony...but you can’t help but wonder, what would a harmony sound like? Howard had harmonised, without being invited to, and Jason had been so fascinated by the sound that he had attached himself to it. And everyone had grown so used to the song in its new, better form that they’d stopped thinking it was anything out of the ordinary. But now listen to it – you can hear the missing space where that harmony should be. A song forever altered, by absence just as much as presence. Jason was biting his lip, his eyes dull and downcast and as Simon watched him he realised that Jason knew it too. But how? If he didn’t know Howard then surely he couldn’t...but no, Simon knew what he saw in his brother’s face.
“You know you’re my favourite little brother, right?”
“Yeah – coz for twenty whole minutes, I was your only little brother,” Jason shot back with a small, sly smile. How did he always know? Simon rolled his eyes and gave Jason’s knee a small slap, forcing Jason’s gaze up to meet his.
“Hey, it’s important to me, ok? Coz...even though I was too small at the time to realise it, it meant something. You’ve never not known being someone’s big brother, you’ve always had Justin there. But me, I actually had, for the very first time, someone who depended on me, you know? I mean, I wasn’t to know you’d be so stubbornly independent, was I! You were the first, Jay. And if I lose you...if I lose you or you get hurt, then I might as well have screwed it all up.”
“Then I guess you know how I feel,” Jason half-whispered, his eyes turning down again. He stared intently at his hands and Simon’s expression wavered. He wanted to reach out, to hug him, but something kept him firmly in his seat. Jason swallowed and closed his eyes. “I feel like I’ve lost something. And if I don’t figure out a way of fixing that...then everything else is going to go to hell.” Simon shook his head at that, placing his hand on Jason’s knee. The action made him flinch slightly and for a moment Simon thought he’d hurt him. But then Jason flicked a glance up to meet his eyes and he realised that the only pain there wasn’t physical.
“Trust me on this one, Jay, you and Howard? Bombproof.” Jason’s lips quirked into a half-smile.
“I never said his name,” he murmured and Simon laughed.
“Please, you never have to. He’s just...always somewhere when it comes to you.”
“I wouldn’t know. But you want to know something funny that I did know? I knew you were going to say that; bombproof.”
“You always know everything,” Simon dismissed jokingly but Jason shook his head.
“No I don’t, I just talk a lot. There’s a difference.”
“And this is different to you just talking then?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Honestly? Yes. Bombproof. I know it sounds daft, Si, but I promise you, someone’s said that before. But I...I just don’t know why I would know that.”
He was sitting on the back steps having a cigarette when Jason found him; third step down, hunched over, a deep frown denting his forehead. It was one of those black Manchester nights where the reflections of the streetlamps danced in the puddles and you couldn’t see the stars for fog and everything was ridiculously still. Jason’s footsteps scratched slightly on the concrete and the sound of the door closing behind him made dull thud which barely touched the stillness of the night. Howard knew it was Jason before he’d turned his head, but he did turn, just slightly, in time to see Jason’s outline half-illuminated by the light which came from inside. Their bodies seemed to conform to an unspoken choreography and somewhere in the quiet night the rhythm slowed as Jason came down the steps, sitting down next to Howard wordlessly. Though he was staring dead ahead, he still nudged Howard’s shoulder with his own and, despite the absence of a smile on his lips, his eyes were dancing with an inner light (just like the Manchester puddles). As much as Howard wanted to preserve his misery he struggled not to grin, couldn’t stop himself from being touched by Jason’s finding him here. His joining him here.
“My family can be a bit much sometimes. Especially dad,” Jason murmured after a few minutes of watching the night’s sky in silence. His breath made a mist in the air, a little ghost of him that swam out into the darkness, catching Howard’s eye. “Si can be alright when you get him alone, but when they descend en masse they’re terrifying. Every birthday as a kid, I wondered what they were going to do to me that year. It was usually horrendous.” Howard’s lips twitched up briefly and he knew Jason saw it. “They don’t mean to destroy things, How. They don’t even know they’re doing it. They just assume everyone is on their wavelength and plough on. I figured it out around the time Dom turned five; you have to keep up the pace to survive.” Howard nodded slowly, chucking his cigarette to the ground, grinding it underfoot before turning his head to look at Jason properly. His blue eyes were a different shade in the night, a midnight grey that Howard was reluctant to name as such – after all, clouds were grey too but there was nothing in the clouds but thunder. That wasn’t Jason.
“Does it ever get anymore...normal?” Howard asked and Jason laughed softly. He had silently linked their arms and now he nudged at Howard’s hand with his knuckles. Howard's hand unclenched immediately, instinctively, and Jason was quick to intertwine their fingers. His smile was playful as he looked up into Howard’s face, but his eyes had become more serious, a darker blue.
“Well...would you describe me as normal?” It was Howard’s turn to laugh and he looked away, shaking his head slightly. He felt Jason rest his chin on his shoulder. “Didn’t think so,” he chuckled. “But would you describe me as worth it?” Howard looked back up at Jason then.
“Come on, love, you know the answer to that,” he protested softly and Jason’s smile was knowing, though Howard could see in his eyes he wasn’t complacent, only grateful.
“So, then, love...you think you and me will survive the night? My family and all?” he whispered, leaning his forehead against Howard’s. Howard smiled back at him, giving a shy roll of his eyes, suddenly feeling foolish for being out here moping on such a cold night when Jason’s eyes were so warm, asking him to come inside.
“Sure we will, we’re bombproof,” he grinned and Jason laughed.
“This from the man sitting on my dad’s back step, smoking a cig and keeping the company of the moon.” Howard held Jason’s eyes then, shrugging slightly.
“I’m not alone though. You’re here.” Jason stilled then, his eyes studying Howard’s face carefully.
“Bombproof,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“Bombproof,” Howard echoed. The corner of Jason’s mouth slowly curved up and he sat up just enough to press a lingering kiss to Howard’s cheek.
“Bombproof it is then, Donald. On one condition...”
“Name your price, Orange.”
“No more hiding unless you hide with me.” Jason’s eyes were aglitter once more as he held out his free hand, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Howard, who grinned back at him, accepting the high-five with a laugh.
“Deal.” Howard pulled Jason closer, turning his high-five into a clasp. “But only after one more kiss.”
Mark hesitated as he came into the lounge, watching in sleepy curiosity as Gary – clearly far more bright and alert than himself – set about lifting up the sofa cushions. He was muttering under his breath about his keys and frowning, digging around hurriedly, entirely oblivious to Mark’s presence. His shoulders were tense and those usually sharp eyes of his looked dim and tired. Mark tried to fight the tiredness of his own brain and concentrate, attempting to make sense of Gary’s performance but, for the most part, he failed.
“Are you going somewhere?” Mark croaked after a few more minutes watching Gary pace about. Gary turned sharply, startled by the interruption to his search, and he looked Mark up and down, as though he’d forgotten he lived there. Mark ran his hand through his sleep-mussed hair, his eyes barely open as he stifled a yawn, and the pause gave Gary a chance to regain his composure.
“You’re up” he stated slowly, needlessly, a half-hearted smile touching his lips. Mark, still in his pyjamas, felt foolish then, because Gary was surprisingly smartly dressed, his hair combed and his hands clasped together like he was ready for business.
“So are you,” Mark replied, his eyes suddenly open wider as he looked Gary up and down.
“Yeah, I uh...I was just looking for my keys. Thought I might drive over to Dawn’s and pick up Cadbury, take him for a walk and try and clear my head, you know?” Gary crossed the space between himself and Mark as he spoke, coming over to his husband in order to place a lingering kiss against his forehead. “I didn’t wake you did I?”
“No. But you should have done – I meant to get up early today. I was going to visit Jay...” Mark trailed off. A small part of him had hoped that Gary would have interrupted him with amazement and confusion ‘Visit Jay? Why would you need to do that? He and Howard have gone away for the week, remember? Anyone would think you thought something bad had happened, Marko!’ But those words never came, instead Gary’s eyes simply clouded with a foggy sort of sadness and, though Mark couldn’t be sure, something a little like guilt. So yesterday had happened then.
“I just thought you needed the rest,” Gary sighed, cupping Mark’s cheek in his hand and tracing a thumb along one of the dark circles under his eyes. “Yesterday was...a lot.”
“And yet you’re still up at the crack of dawn, hunting for your keys,” Mark pointed out softly and Gary looked away, biting the inside of his cheek and studying the floor intently. “It’s ok. You’re not the sort of bloke to deal with a crisis by sitting around. You need to go out and...do.”
“Yeah...that sounds about right I guess,” Gary agreed quietly, still not meeting Mark’s eyes. “I just don’t know what to do for the best , Marko. Do we sit around here all day worrying and trying to work out what could’ve been done differently...or do we do something, you know? Try and make something better, even if it’s only something small.” Gary risked meeting Mark’s eyes then and he was relieved to see a small smile on his face.
“Do something like take Cadbury out for a little stroll, you mean? You’re really thinking that big are you?” Mark enquired, his eyes bright and mischievous. Gary laughed self-consciously and shook his head, turning his eyes skywards.
“Yes, like take Cadbury out for a stroll – is that so bad?” he laughed softly and Mark laughed too, a slightly sad smile on his lips.
“Maybe not...maybe it’s genius. It’s up to you, Gaz.”
“Really?”
“I trust your judgement, Gaz, you know? I trust it totally. If you think it’s right then...it’s right.” Gary watched Mark’s face a moment before pressing another, longer kiss to his forehead.
“Thank you.”
“It’s fine, Gaz. Seriously. But just...just remember that he can’t blame you anymore. If he wants another chance, then he can’t keep pretending it’s all your fault. And he definitely can’t ever take your music away from you, ok? It’s in your blood and nothing he says will change that.”
“Are we still talking about Cadbury?” Gary asked with feigned innocence and Mark couldn’t help but laugh, rising up onto tiptoe to place his hands either side of Gary’s face, looking him in the eye.
“You left your keys on the bedside table – stop talking bullshit, Barlow, it’s a long drive to Stoke-on-Trent.”
Sunrise was the only clear memory Howard had of the past twelve hours – he was aware that he had finally fallen asleep slightly before it, and that he had woken up again slightly after it. It was a fact he was strangely grateful for; the more his body ached from lack of sleep, the less his could notice the difference between sleep-deprivation and out-and-out heartbreak. Part of him wondered how he’d even managed to get himself this far, because by rights he should be broken by now, curled up on the floor, sleeping or crying (he wasn’t sure which of the two was the most likely to happen when everything finally caught up with him.) He’d been putting it off all morning, coming back here. He hadn’t wanted to see Jason again; he feared finding something which wasn’t the same as he needed it to be, like when he’d wanted nothing more than to be home last night, only to discover it wasn’t the home he remembered anymore. But now, standing here, he realised how stupid he had been, could hardly understand how he’d stayed away so long. Because Jason was gorgeous, wasn’t he? All tanned skin and broad shoulders – even with cuts across his face he was beautiful, and he looked up at Howard in a way that told him the feeling was mutual. Always hyper-aware of each other, Jason hadn’t needed Howard to knock, he’d simply known he’d be standing there when he looked up; sad blue eyes peeking out from behind dark curls which he suspected took longer to tame than Howard would readily admit. For a second they both regarded each other in silence, the corners of their lips quirked up in matching, tentative smiles.
“Hey,” Howard let out in a gruff half-whisper. Jason was still smiling at him and it almost made him feel shy – even though he knew those eyes so well, it never stopped surprising him when he was the cause of their twinkling,
“Hey.” Jason’s voice was soft and there was almost a mischief in his eyes now – whilst his smile was cautious, his eyes were alight and that was enough to have Howard smiling back at him from across the room. Silently Jason shifted his weight along the bed, his eyes not leaving Howard’s. And, as was the way with them, nothing really needed to be said. Howard’s body had accepted the invitation before his mind had caught up with him and he was crossing the room before he could remember that there were reasons they shouldn’t sit this close. They shouldn’t let skin touch skin, because it would only persuade them everything was ok and then they’d fall back into life without anything really being resolved, they’d only end up causing more damage to each other’s lives if they sat this close, Howard was sure. But still he couldn’t resist the closeness which Jason offered him. He sat down on the bed beside him, only keeping the slightest of distances between their shoulders.“You look tired,” Jason murmured then and Howard felt the light touch of Jason’s hand on his arm. He glanced up and their blue eyes met immediately. Howard’s lips curved up into a rueful smile.
“I could probably tell you the exact time every shower passed over Manchester last night,” he admitted with a self-conscious shrug. Jason’s hand was still resting on his arm and he felt him give it the smallest of squeezes. Was that understanding, sympathy? No. It was recognition, of sorts.
“Except I wouldn’t ask you to – I’ve already got a pretty good idea myself.”
“No you don’t, your watch always gains time.” Howard couldn’t resist playing this game with him, and from the way Jason’s eyes were dancing he suspected Jason couldn’t resist it either.
“Only someone who’s always late would say that,” Jason chuckled gently, raising his eyebrows at Howard and making him laugh. He shook his head slightly, closing his eyes a moment as he tried to restore oxygen to his brain. Was this normal? Should it be this simple? For a moment the two of them sat in silence once more, Jason’s hand still on Howard’s arm – it was such an innocuous gesture, but that was what made it mean so much to Howard; the sheer normality of it. Jason was still so comfortable with him – he might not remember, but his body didn’t seem to have forgotten.
“I don’t mind the not sleeping, I just hate that sound,” Howard sighed and Jason frowned at him.
“What sound?” Howard glanced away, biting his lip.
“You know...the sound of the rain.” Jason laughed then, though the sound of it was anything but spiteful. His face was all affection and his hand was gently squeezing Howard’s arm again.
“This is Manchester. We dance in the rain in Manchester,” he insisted.
“You’d dance anywhere,” Howard shot back, pulling a face, his eyes suddenly bright and playful. He liked this game, it was their game and it made everything feel normal. He felt safe playing this game, he felt alive with Jason’s hand on his arm.
“Would you watch me?” Jason’s eyebrows were quirked up.
“Always,” Howard answered honestly and Jason laughed, shaking his head. He finally removed his hand from Howard’s arm, shifting his weight to rest his chin on his hand instead. His eyes glittered quietly as he studied Howard’s.
“It’s always like this for us, isn’t it,” he remarked quietly, a statement not a question.
“Like what?” Howard’s voice was small – he knew, but he wanted Jason to say it.
“Like...breathing. Easy,” Jason said, his eyes meeting Howard’s.
“Pretty much...until it starts to rain,” Howard replied. “You know, before I met you I always slept with the curtains drawn. But now...you taught me the sound of rain at midnight. And I think I loved it once. Until I learnt what it sounded like when I was alone.”
“Oh, love.” Howard looked up then, every cell in his body instantly buzzing. Jason seemed to sense the jolt which had gone through him and he watched Howard intently, his whole body still, as though he were waiting for some form of instruction. Howard turned himself slightly, reaching out a hand to cup Jason’s face. Still Jason did not move, though his eyes did flicker closed as he allowed Howard to move his thumb across his skin. The ridges of Howard’s fingertips grazed his cuts and he leant into the gentle pressure of that rough hand. Howard knew; no one else but him.
“Why did you call me love?” Howard asked gently. Jason’s eyes opened then and he looked into Howard’s eyes unwaveringly.
“Because it’s what you are.” Their faces were close now, their lips almost touching, and Howard’s hand had come to rest against Jason’s neck. “It all traces back to you. I don’t understand who I am...I don’t understand the person I am until I’m with you. And even if I don’t know you, I know what you are. And you are love.” For a whole minute they hung there, two sets of blue eyes shining nervously back at each other in stillness and silence. The kiss was in the air without their lips even touching. Or at least, it was until Howard looked away.
“I have to go.” Howard pushed himself from the bed so quickly that Jason almost forgot to react. “I should go,” Howard whispered, touching a hand to his lip, brushing away a kiss that had never really been there. “I should go,” he repeated, more to himself than to Jason, and he took a faltering step towards the door. “This’ll only end in more rain.”
“Howard,” Jason said softly, moving himself ever-so-slightly along the bed in Howard’s direction. Howard stilled at the sound, but he refused to meet Jason’s eyes. He closed his own eyes tightly, keeping his body just turned away from Jason’s in an attempt at self defence. But he didn’t leave. “Howard,” Jason said again, close enough now to rest his hand on Howard’s arm once more. “Stay.” Howard swallowed hard and shook his head. Stay; that word that had come to mean so much to them – more sacred than the often repeated ‘I love you’, more memories attached to it than either of their own names. But all Howard could think of was the sound of rain on their bedroom window, obscuring any whispered ‘Stay’ that might have been shared under the sheets.
“I’m sorry, Jay.” Howard was aware of Jason’s hand, falling slowly from his arm as turned and walked away.
Mark sighed and watched the closed door which Gary had just disappeared through. He’d lost all track of his own thoughts and the only idea he could seize upon with any enthusiasm was the idea of going back to bed. Maybe it was self indulgent, maybe it was just plain lazy, but some stubborn, not-as-nice-as-usual part of him reminded him of the feeling of the glass shattering beneath him, and Robbie’s steely eyes. Didn’t he deserve a rest? He tried not to think of Howard and Jason – who deserved a rest from life’s constant tests more than anyone, certainly more than him. When a relationship was built like theirs, was there really any need to pick at the foundations? Or was it that constant picking that kept it strong? Mark wished he knew the answer, but just thinking about it hurt his head and once more his thoughts turned to his pillow. Slowly he pushed himself up off the sofa, grabbing the mug of tea Gary had been kind enough to make for him before he left and heading down the corridor towards the bedroom. But as he walked past the open door of the spare room, something stopped him in his tracks.
The room was messier than ever and he knew it was starting to drive Gary mad; he couldn’t play his piano in there anymore, let alone try and write anything, but for some reason neither he nor Mark ever got around to tidying it. Boxes were piled up in corners, many of them with old clothes of Mark’s spilling out of the top, others with out-of-date recording equipment and wires forming nests inside them. On top of Gary’s piano sat a box of CDs and notes and old photographs, all in a mismatched heap – and it was that box with Mark found himself drawn to. On top was a photograph of Barlow’s, Jason and Howard sitting side by side on the front step one summer, Mark standing behind them, his hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun – a nice photo, though Mark couldn’t remember for the life of him why it had been taken. It was an odd-one-out amongst the other photographs in the box, most of which depicted significant events, performances and birthdays and the odd anniversary, things which used to be in frames before more recent photographs had replaced them. All of the notes seemed to be scraps of songs, some completed lyrics, others hand-drawn sheet music, fragments and finished compositions intermingling, everything seemingly pre-Robbie. Mark recognised Jason’s handwriting on some, little notes by certain lyrics which gave clues as to the significance of specific lines – Jason was always concerned with meaning more than anything. Mark smiled as he picked through the box’s contents, because really, this forgotten box charted some of their best memories. Time together, time spent with music...and Mark’s personal favourite; time performing. And then he noticed a red CD-case sticking out from underneath one of Gary’s old notebooks. Mark felt his breath catch as he reached out to pull it free, his fingers tentative, as though the disc contained in that semi-see-through case may, at any minute, simply splinter and crumble away. Gary’s handwriting sprawled across it in smudgy marker pen and as Mark read the words he felt a shiver dance its way down his spine. He knew why he’d been drawn to this box now, and he suspected his plans of going back to bed had just been put to a firm end.
Chapter Twelve: Wednesday, The Late Afternoon Of A Long English Summer
Gary squinted against the sunlight as he stepped out of his car. The ground was high, overlooking the rest of the city, which seemed to sit in orbit below. Gary could feel a difference in the air, the crispness of it and the strength of the wind. Stoke-on-Trent sprawled out in front of him, whilst behind him the Britannia Stadium stood in smart red and white, a snapped contrast to the bold blue summer sky behind. The only sound for miles was the chink-pause-t-chink of the stadium flags being whipped against their poles; the breeze up here was neither cold nor constant, it simply gusted in, rising and falling every so often, strangely peaceful as it followed a rhythm which only it could understand. Gary smiled slightly. It almost seemed a shame that when the football season came back, this place would be crammed with people. There was a beauty in this emptiness, helped keep your head clear. He turned and opened the back door of the car, letting Cadbury jump down onto the tarmac. The dog’s dark eyes took in the view, briefly, before he began trotting off to explore, and Gary moved to follow him, his eyes still searching the car park for the statue Robbie had mentioned in his text. Cadbury trotted just ahead of him, setting their course for the Boothen End and guiding them away from the smart front-entrance of the ground.
The statue of Sir Stanley Matthews was set back from the stadium, turned away to allow Sir Stan the honour of overlooking the city he had called home. Cadbury found it before Gary, though Gary suspected the dog had sensed a very different presence to that of the footballing legend; the paved circle around the sculpture was framed by three benches and, on one such bench, Robbie Williams was sitting alone, gazing out over Stoke-on-Trent with his shoulders hunched. He looked up as Cadbury came barrelling towards him, the sound of his excitable panting interrupting the still-rhythmic chink-pause-t-chink of the stadium flags. Robbie’s face cracked into a grin as the dog nuzzled him and he set about scratching behind his ears, babbling affectionate nonsense and letting Cadbury lick his face. The dog pressed his wet nose up to Robbie’s own nose and Gary chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Cadbury and Robbie probably got on better than the rest of the band combined, he mused. But really, how was this the same man from yesterday? Sure, there were bags under Robbie’s eyes, but his grin was so broad, so honest. Cheeky, yes, but angry? No, that angry man from yesterday didn’t live in that face. A temporary madness, a demon? Call it what you like, but Robbie’s anger wasn’t really anger, it was fear. Gary shoved his hands in his pockets, crossing from the tarmac of the car park and into the paved circle. He glanced up at the statue for a moment before looking back behind him to where the Britannia stood then he looked back over to where Robbie was sitting, now quiet as he stroked Cadbury’s soft head.
“Sir Stanley Matthews?” Gary raised an eyebrow and Robbie looked up at him for the first time. “You’re not switching sides on us are you?” Gary asked lightly and Robbie smiled a smile which was unnaturally shy.
“No fear,” he assured Gary softly, looking back down to Cadbury. “I just come here to think sometimes. Me and Sir Stan here go way back.” Robbie paused in scratching behind Cadbury’s ears in order to look up at the statue and Gary was surprised to see genuine reverence there. “Stoke lad done good,” Robbie murmured, his blue eyes bloodshot but determined.
“A local legend’s a local legend, I guess, no matter what side he plays for,” Gary said, still regarding Robbie with mild confusion. He took a step further into the circle, moving towards the statue in order to get a better look. The closer he came to the bench on which Robbie sat, the more Gary could see the younger man’s shoulders tensing.
“You wanna hear something crazy about everyone’s favourite Stoke Legend here though?” Robbie’s grin was back and Gary couldn’t resist taking another step closer.
“Go on,” he laughed. Robbie smirked and looked away. Gary could see him looking at the statue out of the corner of his eye and so he looked too. The three depictions of the famous footballer were basked in brilliant summer sunlight, shadows falling perfectly to emphasise the sculptures’ lines – Gary supposed it was the intention all along, but it did look as though the man was moving, the Wizard of the Dribble making his way down the pitch just like the glory days. Robbie’s smile was strangely fond, and he nodded, as if some internal realisation had just received his final stamp of approval.
“Stan’s not really theirs, you know. He wanted to play for this city’s less famous (though far superior) half.” The statement was delivered with a bold-as-brass look into Gary’s face as Robbie waited for a reaction. And reaction Gary gave him, both his eyebrows raising in comical unison. “Told you it was crazy.” Robbie let out a long sigh, finally releasing Cadbury and leaning back. His eyes were still on the statue, even as Gary took another step towards him and so slowly Gary too turned his head back to the three sculptures atop their large, sturdy stone base. Red and white flowers were planted around and, directly beneath the ‘Sir Stanley Matthews CBE, 1915-2000’ inscription, a collection of red and white striped wreaths had amassed over the course of the summer. "He wanted to play for the nobler half of Stoke. But his dad told him no chance – if he was ever going to get anywhere, he had to try out for Stoke. He was just...right for them, you know? They were on his level, and they had the resources to help him go far.” Robbie looked over to Gary then, their eyes meeting briefly before Robbie lost his nerve and looked away again. “And his dad obviously knew best.” Gary’s lips twitched into a small, thoughtful smile and he closed the remaining gap between himself and Robbie’s bench, sitting himself down at the opposite end of it. Cadbury trotted up to him then putting his head in his lap, and for a moment Robbie stared up at the statue in silence, his whole body rigidly still. “His dad was right, you know. Stoke looked after him. And ok, he wasn’t quite a one-club man...but Stoke City...it always had a place with him, you know? They looked after him. That group of people he was supposed to distrust and dislike, but he went in there with an open mind and he saw the good in them. That advice from his dad, it must’ve been so hard to swallow, you know? You’re good, but not so good that you can do it all on your own. But he wasn’t daft. He didn’t think about that stuff. He just...worked with people, not against them. The enemy wasn’t the enemy. And the person who told him what he didn’t want to hear was actually just looking out for him all along.” Robbie was silent for a moment. He began picking invisible fluff from his clothes, scrunching up his face into odd expression which Gary couldn’t quite read. “He must’ve felt loved here. I mean, his ashes are buried under the centre-circle now, right here, at the Brit – you know that?” Robbie looked up at Gary who smiled back at him quietly.
“I do now,” he said. Robbie smiled slightly. Robbie pulled one knee up to his chest and rested his chin on it. “I’m sorry, Gaz,” Rob half-whispered into the silence and slowly he turned his head, his blue eyes meeting with Gary’s. There was sincerity there. There was regret and loss and fear there too, but Gary couldn’t hold it against him as long as the sincerity remained. Who could blame him, after all? Robbie Williams had had a lot of rejection in life, there were just some rejections he feared more than others. And wounded animals have a tendency to lash out, don’t they? Gary let out a small sigh, glancing across towards the city skyline. The incinerator was there, as ever, but from here it seemed less of a feature of the cityscape, instead the sunlight caught the other buildings of the city, an accent of bright yellow falling across the rooftops and the trees and the railway’s power lines. He tried to process being back here. Tried to process sitting next to Robbie now like everything was normal. Gary didn’t tend to dwell on the sound of broken glass – before something had finished crumbling around him he was already standing waiting with the glue, trying to work out where to start. And here, on this hill, with Cadbury and Robbie and Sir Stan, the calmness made him remember why it was he worked so hard. Who wouldn’t want to fight for a moment in the summer sunshine, the breeze ruffling their hair, the clink-pause-t-chink of the flags echoing in the air?
“Jay’s going to be ok, just so you know,” Gary said softly and Robbie smiled, a rush of relief filling his body. His shoulders sagged and he rubbed his hands over his face.
“Thank God.”
“Had his mum on the phone to me earlier...he’s sitting up, talking everyone’s ears off...”
“Being Jay,” Robbie supplied, flicking a cheeky glance across at Gary, which Gary met with a faux-stern glare of his own. Both men bit back chuckles and turned away from each other.
“He got pretty beaten up by it all...the way the doctors were talking...” Gary trailed off, shuddering slightly, his spine tingling at the memory of the feeling of loss careering towards him before swerving at the last minute, leaving him to bask in fear, relief and confusion.
“Is Howard ok?” Robbie watched Gary’s normally bright eyes fog over and something in the pit of his stomach – something unrelated to yesterday’s alcohol intake – churned over painfully.
“Come on, Rob, you’ve seen the way he looks at Jay, I think everyone except the two of them knows you can see them flirting from space...” Gary sighed, shaking his head slightly. He felt awful for not going to see Howard. But something told him it wouldn’t make a difference – only Jason could really help him and, perhaps, Howard didn’t want anyone else but Jason getting involved anyway.
“Yeah, I know. Great Wall of China and Jay and Howard. Earth’s greatest achievements,” Robbie said with a grin and Gary laughed.
“Well, let’s hope so...Howard had his world blown apart, reconstructed and then blown apart again last night...I think it might’ve destroyed a lesser man completely, had him being admitted to hospital himself from a nervous breakdown. I mean...when Jay woke up he didn’t....but it’ll be ok. I know Jay, I know he’ll find a way to make it ok.” Robbie didn’t want to push Gary any further on the topic. As intrigued as he was, he suspected Gary had his reasons for being guarded.
“Jay is going to be ok though? He is fine?” he asked softly and Gary nodded.
“Cut and bruised and a little bit broken, but yeah, he’s going to be ok.” There was a pause. Robbie chewed on his lip, suddenly fascinated by the floor.
“And Mark?” Robbie’s heart lurched against his ribcage as Gary let out a long sigh.
“Mark...well, I think Mark just needs a sign.”
“A sign of what?” Robbie asked and Gary looked back up to Sir Stan with a small smile.
“A sign that you’re ready to stop fighting for the sake of fighting.” Robbie mirrored Gary’s smile.
“Stoke boy done good,” he murmured in reply.
Howard closed the bedroom door behind him and then pressed his back flat against it, slowly sliding down to the floor. As he ran his hands through his hair, his eyes flickered closed and, for a moment, he could almost feel the sensation of Jason’s hand on his arm again, his steady breaths against his lips. Every cell in his body was aching now, his heart fast and angry against his ribcage; he shouldn’t have walked away. But, he reasoned, wasn’t it the smart thing to do? Jason didn’t know him. Not the way he had, the way he should. He had called him ‘love’, but he hadn’t said he was in love. He had let Howard touch his cuts, but he hadn’t let their lips meet. Betrayal. Howard would’ve blamed the rain for that voice, would’ve dismissed it, but today it was sunny and it left him with no option but to admit that there was some small part of him still stung by Jason’s ability to forget. He’d expected that seeing Jason would make him want to talk and talk, endlessly talk, say a million things, on a mission to retrieve those memories. But no. Every time he tried to behave the way he thought he ought to, he came up against the same road block over and over again; Jason had just...forgotten. It shouldn’t be that easy. Howard hated himself for it, but he couldn’t get past it. Come on, Howard, you know this story. Howard squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, fighting off tears. Look at it another way then; it shouldn’t be this hard. All they’d done for years now was struggle on, wasn’t it? But this time they’d both been given another option, a clean break. And sure, their first instinct had been to try and stay close, but maybe their first instinct wasn’t their best. It was reckless. A kiss would cure them now, maybe. But persuading Jason to remember, cajoling him, holding him, persuading him to trust – what would it do in time? Reckless, dangerous, treacherous path – what good would it do either of them? More rain, more rain. And (Howard bit hard on his lip) it wouldn’t change the fact that Jason had forgotten. He’d forgotten. He’d promised, he’d promised! Always should mean always and yet it hadn’t. Betrayal, that word again. Then Howard thought back to Jason’s face, the feel of the cuts, the slight pressure of his head against his palm. Reckless, stupid, selfish path. It was foolhardy. And yet, he couldn’t deny it...he had liked the feeling. The feeling of Jason falling. Because he had been falling, just like he had when they first met. So, so easily falling.
Howard opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the bright summer light which streamed in through the bedroom windows. He looked around him and he tried to work out where his influence ended and Jason’s began. It was an experiment; how easy was it exactly to just...be apart. To separate the physical things, to separate the lives. To separate the people. They’d been apart once. They’d not even known each other once. And he knew that once, he had been able to sleep through the sound of the rain.
“I hear you’re fed up of your brothers, so I thought I’ve come and cheer you up a bit.” When Jason looked up from the magazine he’d been skimming through aimlessly for the previous hour, he was greeted with one of those sights that made it impossible not to smile; Mark Owen, head poking through the doorway, a cheeky smile splintering his face.
“Hiya Markie.” Mark brought the rest of his body into the room, relieved to see Jason smiling. The older man’s shoulders were slumped slightly, and he couldn’t help but notice there was a distance in those normally bright blue eyes. But there was something genuine in that smile – it was Jason’s unmistakeable smile. Mark knew he could always win those smiles from Jason. Unlike Rob, Mark had never had any real issue with Jason’s tendency to play the brother roll. He didn’t find it condescending at all, he found it sweet. It was sweet that Jason cared enough to get annoyed with him. It was sweet that Jason cared enough to want to help. Mark was overtaken by a sudden urge to hug him; he was just so desperately glad to see him sitting there, smiling up at him, a little bruised but essentially still the Jason he loved so dearly, that it was hard to know how to express it.
“Budge up then,” Mark let out with more enthusiasm than perhaps he should and Jason laughed at him softly. In a second Mark had crossed the room, climbing immediately onto Jason’s hospital bed like a little kid. And Jason, for his part, simply rolled his eyes fondly, choosing to indulge Mark by shifting his weight so that the two of them could perch side by side, just about sharing space on the propped-up pillows. Mark fidgeted a moment, and Jason watched him, shaking his head slightly in amusement and, after a moment, Mark settled, allowing silence to fill the room for a whole minute before letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Jay, you have no idea just how messed up things nearly got yesterday.” Mark’s voice was soft and, as Jason glanced down at the younger man’s face, he saw something in those usually bright eyes which was almost haunted. He tossed the magazine away and, only wincing slightly at the movement, turned his body so as to face Mark better. He did look tired. He looked like someone who had five conflicting emotions fighting for space in his head.
“You look done-in,” Jason said gently and Mark laughed, looking up at him with a broad grin.
“You know that’s the last thing anyone wants to hear from someone who only recently left intensive care, right?” Jason rolled his eyes fondly at the tease, elbowing Mark slightly.
“Play nice or you’re demoted to the chair,” he retorted and Mark’s eyes danced.
“Sorry, I forgot we’ve all been making a fuss about nothing.”
“Nothing might be pushing it. But I hardly think I’m out for the count.”
“You never are, Jay,” Mark smiled, nudging Jason gently with his shoulder and making him laugh. “And actually, all things considered, you don’t look half bad.”
“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jason smirked and Mark chuckled slightly. “But please, please, pass the information onto my brothers on your way home.” Mark’s grin broadened.
“God bless The Orange Family. You lot are a mess, you know that?” Jason nodded thoughtfully.
“A bit of a neurotic bunch,” he agreed with a slight incline of his head and a sigh that surprised Mark with its heaviness. For a moment the two men sat in silence, both grappling still with flashes of the injuries (physical and otherwise) of the last twenty-four hours. Jason’s head was still aching from Howard’s visit, and Mark’s heart was still beating heavy as he felt the pressure of the CD box tucked into his jacket pocket.
“It started in Stoke, walking around with Gaz in the sunshine. It was lovely. Then before I know it, Robbie Williams is kicking off, there’s a broken glass coffee table on the floor, I’m on the floor, and Gaz is telling me that my best mate just got packed off in an ambulance. And suddenly it’s raining cats, dogs and possibly a few hamsters...and I don’t think I’ve even processed half of it. I’m just carrying on as if today’s an ordinary day.” Mark glanced over at Jason then, studying his expression and trying to gauge what was going through his head. He couldn’t fathom it. Those eyes could be so expressive sometimes, but now all Mark could see in them was a hollow shade of blue and nothing more profound than that. Jason was looking down at his hands and Mark could see his brow was creased in concentration, though what he was concentrating on it was hard to say. It seemed strange to see him without his ring, but surely that made no difference to Jason, not if he didn’t remember. Mark bit his lip. “You know, Jay, you and Howard...” Mark felt the moment when Jason’s blue eyes turned back to him – it was only a slow, quiet glance, but Howard’s name had put life in it and Mark’s lips curved into a small smile. “I was in the shop the first day you two met. I feel like that makes me a part of history or something.” Jason laughed softly, looking back down at his hands. “Jay, you and Howard, you and him you’re...you’re something good. You can be teasing each other, bickering with each other, arguing with each other...but the whole time no one is ever in any doubt that you love each other. You and him...you’re...” Mark stopped, looking carefully across at Jason, trying to judge his reaction. And, to his surprise, a small smile was playing on Jason’s lips, his blue eyes were still dim but there was something more behind them, something which was getting stronger. That’s when it occurred to him; Howard had already been here. Of course Howard had already been here. “Jason Orange!” Jason looked up at the address, mildly confused, and Mark grinned back at him cheekily. “Jason Orange, you don’t know a thing about the man and yet you are head over bloody heels!” Mark’s eyes were wide now and his childlike teasing made Jason laugh. He let his head fall back, studying the ceiling a moment before risking another look at Mark’s still-beaming face.
“It’s not that simple, you know,” he said, softly, sadly. Mark linked his arm through Jason’s, hugging at it affectionately. He tried to temper his grin, because he wanted Jason to know that he wasn’t pushing him to admit anything he didn’t want to, he wasn’t even mocking him. He was just trying to help. Jason saw the sympathy there and, though it made him feel a little uncomfortable, he couldn’t deny he was grateful of it. “I’m so confused.” The admission came so quietly. It was the sort of admission Jason wouldn’t usually make to anyone but Howard and for a moment the weight of that responsibility pressed down on Mark. He thought back to the CD in his pocket and he almost mentioned it, but then Jason swallowed and closed his eyes and every line of his expression changed. The shift was subtle but it was there – the confusion was replaced by an ineffable, inexplicable knowing. “All I know is a name, really. All I have is a hello, and a name and the sound of the rain. And it shouldn’t be enough...” Jason faltered. “I know his face. I know that sounds...”
“No.” Mark shook his head, sitting up a little, his eyes steady and kind. “It sounds...right.” The corner of Jason’s lips quirked up for a moment.
“I don’t know about love, Markie. I don’t know about...about how I could say that when I don’t know him. But I know enough to say that he makes me hope. I see him and I can’t help but hope.”
In the minute’s silence that passed between them, Mark came to a decision. It was breaking a promise, in many ways, but Mark had decided that some things were just more important, and this needed to be done. He reached into his jacket pocket, slowly producing the CD and Jason looked up at the action. Confusion touched his face as Mark reverently touched his fingers to the red box before looking up at him, his expression all seriousness. “We promised not to keep this, never mind play it” Mark whispered, looking back down at the CD and starting to bite his lip once more. “But I think you should listen to it. I think...I think one listen to this could tell you...everything. Could tell you more than any of us. It’s yours and his story, in a way.” Mark looked back up at Jason. “It’s sore, Jay. I mean, it’s beautiful but...look, if you know that you know that you know...then...it’s there. And the rest is up to you.”
The first person to move was Howard. His hands clasped so tightly at the paper that Mark almost thought it was going to rip. Gary’s fingers were still resting on the piano keys and he too looked over at Howard with concern, moving to stand then seeming to think better of it and dropping his hands into his lap. Howard had fallen still now, the sound of the crinkling paper seemed to freeze him. His blue eyes were almost grey and Mark could see the dark circles under his eyes more clearly than before. It had been a long time since things had been ok.
“Howard.” Mark wasn’t sure if it was his voice or Gary’s. The tone was somehow unfamiliar. Hollow, unsure. The sound made Howard flinch and he swallowed hard to fight what might have become tears had he not had such a strong desire to avoid crying until there was something conclusive to cry over. He stood and Mark and Gary watched in silence as he swayed on his feet, his eyes still on the paper. He slowly lifted his head and looked over at Gary, who shifted along the piano stool, leaning towards Howard as if he was about to say something. But no words came out. Howard fixed his grey-blue gaze on Gary and scrunched the paper slightly in his hands.
“I can’t do that again,” he whispered. “No one can hear that again. It’s your song from now on.”
“But, Howard...”
“Never, Gaz. Promise me?” Gary nodded dumbly and Howard turned to look at Mark.
“Never,” Mark whispered. And yet, as Howard left the room, neither Gary nor Mark made any move to press ‘delete’.
“Gaz? Are you home?” Mark dropped his jacket down onto the sofa and bent to scratch Cadbury behind the ears, the excitable Labrador letting out a little yap as he greeted him. “Well Cadbury didn’t drive himself here,” Gary’s voice come from the kitchen and Mark rolled his eyes, pressing his forehead against Cadbury’s and letting the dog lick his face.
“I know, Cadbury, he’s unbearable isn’t he.” Cadbury yapped again and Mark laughed, standing up straight and heading for the kitchen. “I hope you’ve got a brew waiting for me.”
In hindsight, Mark supposed Gary’s lack of a reply should’ve alerted him. But then, what could really prepare him for the sight of Robbie Williams sitting at his and Gary’s kitchen table? And not just Robbie Williams sitting at his and Gary’s kitchen table, oh no. Robbie Williams sitting at his and Gary’s kitchen table, a mug of tea (in one of Gary’s very favourite mugs) and a biscuit tin in front of him. And Gary was sitting there too. Next to him. And no one had so much as a bruise under their eye. Cadbury yapped again, looking up at Mark expectantly. The dog was used to Mark greeting their guests with fearsome hugs and big grins – this total stillness seemed odd to him and he felt he needed to remind Mark of the house rules. But Mark still stood there, staring at Robbie and Gary in stunned silence. Robbie, for his part, had the good grace to look uncomfortable and for once there wasn’t even so much as a cheeky glint in his eye.
“How’s Jay?” Gary asked, sipping at his tea casually, as though everything were completely normal. Soldier on, Barlow, Robbie thought with mild amusement and he stifled a smile.
“Gaz...” Mark began but Gary simply got up and moved over to the kettle.
“I’m presuming that’s where you were? The hospital? Was Howard with him?” Mark blinked a few times and Robbie was really having to fight off a laugh now.
“No...but he had been earlier. Erm, Gaz...” Mark tried valiantly, but Gary was already over by the fridge, reaching into a compartment and producing a large pack of Maltesers which he hurled across the room in Mark’s direction. Instinctively Mark caught the packet, still staring at Robbie, who was now powerless against the grin which was spreading across his face.
“And are they ok? I mean, does Jay remember him now or...what are the doctors saying?” Gary continued, moving back over to the now-boiling kettle and making a grab for Mark’s favourite mug. Mark finally took his eyes of Robbie and turned his gaze onto Gary, amazement still filling his face.
“I stopped trying to second-guess Jay and Howard after the time they had that blazing row then ended up kissing on the backroom armchair in the space of ten minutes.” Mark glanced back at Robbie then. “Ten minutes! They couldn’t even remember what they’d been fighting about. Jay just said ‘Give us a break, we’re surviving off one hour’s sleep each here’ and I didn’t ask any more. Grace had been ill or something, I don’t know. But I learnt my lesson; never doubt their ability to turn the ridiculous into the sublime.”
“And then turn it back to ridiculous again,” Gary added with a chuckle, handing Mark his mug then returning to his seat at the kitchen table. Mark – Maltesers in one hand, mug of tea in the other – stood staring at the sight once more. Gary and Robbie. Just sitting, side by side at the kitchen table. “I hope Howard’s ok, though. I mean, that’s a lot for someone to try and process, isn’t it? He must want to try and help Jay remember, but where do you even begin?” Robbie sighed, leaning his elbows on the table and pulling a face as he stared down into his mug of tea. “Something that big to grapple with...it’s flight or fight,” he murmured.
“And I suppose you think fight is the answer?” Mark asked pointedly. Robbie looked up at him instantly. For a moment he looked hurt, but then the look softened and he shrugged.
“I never said the answer was fighting against each other,” he said quietly and Mark looked away.
“You could’ve fooled me,” he muttered. Robbie winced at that, shaking his head slightly.
“Mark,” Gary warned gently and Mark looked up at him in surprise.
“What?” Robbie looked between Gary and Mark, hardly believing the strange reversal of roles; Gary Barlow sticking up for him whilst Mark Owen clenched his jaw and tried to hold his tongue.
“Mark, please. I know I don’t really deserve it, I know I’ve wasted a lot of chances with you one way or another but...can I just have one more chance to prove to you that I’m not a total screw up?” Robbie asked, his beady blue eyes alert and looking deep into Mark’s own. Pleading.
“I don’t think you’re a total screw up, Rob,” Mark whispered, quickly looking away and screwing up his face, trying to keep his confused emotions at bay. Robbie smiled at him distantly.
“You didn’t. Until I screwed it up,” he pointed out. Gary shifted awkwardly in his seat.
“Sit down, Mark,” Gary said softly but Mark didn’t move from the doorway.
“Please, Markie. Yesterday was...awful. It was the most hideous thing I’ve ever known – hurting you wasn’t...and then Jay...” Robbie faltered and Mark risked a glance back at him. He thought for a moment, trying to sort through the tangled mass of thoughts crowding through his brain. “It was horrible. And it forced me to actually attempt to look at things the way they really are, not the way my mind was trying to twist them to be.” Mark sighed, looking Robbie straight in the eye. There was a long pause which stretched out, on and on, between the three men. Mark swallowed.
“And you two survived the entire drive up from Stoke? Without even one fight?” Gary chuckled and Robbie couldn’t help but smile.
“Not quite,” Gary admitted. “But I promise you, Marko, it was about which service station to stop at. And we were both laughing the entire time.”
Jason felt so suddenly and completely tired that he almost didn’t care anymore. Almost. The way he saw it, he had a decision to make. A decision that Howard – someone who all and sundry thought of as his Howard – seemed to be trying to make for him. And somewhere amidst the mess of signals his head and heart exchanged, he knew that Howard was allowed to make decisions for him. He just...knew it. They were inextricably linked, and in that sense, the question was irrelevant; Stay or go. How could either of them go anywhere without the other? If Jason only had a name and a face and the sound of the rain to work with, if all he really had was a hello and a touch, and yet he still trusted this man, then clearly there was a link there which could not be broken. Yet, the link had been broken. Jason had asked him to stay. He hadn’t. Stay or go. It sounded simple. But it was tied up in the very foundations of Jason’s personal neuroses. Stay. Or go. This is Manchester. We dance in the rain in Manchester. Staying meant something to Jason. It had been instinctive, asking Howard to stay, it just came to him, just slipped out before he realised his choice of word. And yet it shouldn’t have been that way. Because he had trained himself to not raise his hopes that high. His dad hadn’t stayed, even Simon hadn’t stayed. And after that what was the point of asking? It had been a conscious decision during his late teens; don’t expect. But he had expected of Howard.
Jason glanced down at the disc in his hands. He’d spent half his life making sure he didn’t open himself up to that kind of disappointment ever again...and yet he knew, he just knew, that if he listened to whatever was on this disc, he would be making the choice to change that. A choice to be the person that Howard had made him, whether he remembered the why or whether he just understood that they had to fight to create new whys together. Stay. Or go. Jason reached across to where his CD player was sitting and slipped the disc inside. One last glance at Gary’s handwritten title before he pressed play. ‘IWFL – Howard – Original Rec.’
Chapter Thirteen: Thursday, Morning Shifting Into Afternoon
Howard ran his fingers along the paper, his eyes still staring dead ahead. He could feel the warmth of the Manchester sun against his skin and somewhere in the city he supposed Jason could too. And wouldn’t that be nice, he thought. He swallowed something – something which wasn’t tears but was far from a smile – and let out a long breath. He remembered, he still remembered everything. He knew what had been and he would always know. He rubbed his thumb against the cool metal in his left hand and for a moment he thought about throwing it in the river. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t bring himself to make a gesture that hurtful; something else had been thought lost to the river once and, though things hadn’t been as they had seemed, the memory still stung. Another memory he was doomed to knowing forever he supposed.
He slid it into the envelope and sealed it in. He surprised himself by managing not to cry.
It was the middle of summer and Manchester was golden. The three of them were walking by the river and Jason was driving Howard mad and they were laughing and everything was just how summer was supposed to be. He couldn’t be sure if they were arguing or teasing, or perhaps they had just been flirting, but as Grace bobbed up and down between the two of them, Howard could at least be sure that they were all content. All three of them. Like this was how it had been for years, like this was life and home and all those other things that people were supposed to look for and dream of. Although Howard had never craved that. He had never been one to wonder what stability looked like, his mind had a tendency to wander and he got so restless and fidgety when he’d been stuck in one place in previous summers. But in that moment all he wanted was to stay still – stay there by the river – and watch the sunset reflect off the glass of the Salford windows and listen to Jason telling Grace outrageous stories and feel his blue eyes winking at him over the top of her head.
And then the rain came.
Grace had squealed and Jason, whose upper-body strength was impressive considering his slight frame, had managed to scoop her up in an instant. Perhaps the interruption should’ve annoyed them, but as Howard remembered it, that had all been laughing as Manchester did its worst. They ran all the way back to the apartment, still joking and grinning and laughing and laughing and laughing. At some point Howard had made a grab for Jason’s hand, a grab that Jason had accepted, allowing Howard to all but pull him along. And the whole time the sun was still shining. Grace had tried to find a rainbow, but Jason ran too fast for her to see much of anything at all, only the golden glint of the sunlight off the windows and her dad’s broad grin up ahead as he pulled some more on Jason’s hand. When they got home she remembered him kissing their wet faces – he kissed her on the forehead and Jason on the lips and Jason had winked at him over the top of her head before setting her down and going off in search of towels.
It was when he was watching Jason and Grace argue over techniques for towel-drying hair that it occurred to him he never wanted that day to be forgotten. Sure, forget what day of the week it was, forget which one of them was wearing the red t-shirt or whose sunglasses got dropped in the chaos. But never forget the way it felt or the way the sunlight gleamed of the glass of every window in the street. Never forget that it was a golden afternoon in Manchester or that they had laughed.
And then the next day he found the key in his pocket. He couldn’t for the life of him work out when Jason had slipped it in there, but he found that didn’t matter. Because Jason knew. So he smiled and rubbed his thumb over the metal and thought of golden light on windows and running in the rain.
When Robbie opened his eyes, the first thing that came into focus was Mark, eyebrow arched, arms folded across his chest. Something in the pit of his stomach turned over, making him feel more than a little nauseous. What he really wanted to do was close his eyes again, pretend he was still asleep. Or, even better, he could go back to last night and go home to his own bed, like a sensible, proper grown-up. But he tried to swallow the thought; Gary had been right, they all needed to sort this. Robbie pushed himself up slightly on the sofa, rubbing at the crick in his neck and stifling a yawn. He was desperate not to look too at home, but at the same time he didn’t want to look too awake, as, at least if it seemed as though he were still half-asleep then he wouldn’t have to try and talk. He wondered where Gary was – and then he wondered how on earth the space of a few days had turned Gary Barlow into his greatest ally. Mark let out a long sigh and Robbie risked a glance at him.
“We all overslept,” Mark said after a moment, still regarding Robbie carefully. “Come on, I’ll make you a brew.” And with that, he turned and headed for the kitchen. Slowly Robbie sat up, watching Mark walk out with a mixture of suspicion and hope. He risked a sidelong look at Cadbury, who was lying in his bed in the corner of the room, but the dog simply rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes, knowing better than to get involved in their dysfunction.
“Cheers, Cadbury, you’re a real help,” Robbie sighed with a roll of his eyes before pushing himself up from the sofa and moving towards the kitchen.
Mark was flitting about, humming along to the radio as he produced mugs and spoons from various kitchen units, his back to Robbie the whole time. And Robbie, for his part, hovered in the doorway, watching him with a faint smile on his lips, hardly daring to move and spoil the scene.
“Pull up a seat. You’ve made yourself at home already, I don’t see why you should stop now.” There was a huffy edge to Mark’s voice that Robbie couldn’t help but chuckle at. He might look like the world’s most happy-go-lucky man, but Rob knew better than anyone that Mark Owen would not be pushed around. Just because he was no longer locked in his bedroom refusing to speak to either Gary or Robbie, as he had been last night, did not mean that he was just going to accept the way they had handled things. The way he clattered the teaspoons only confirmed Robbie’s suspicions and he shook his head, rueful but fond.
“You off somewhere special?”Robbie asked after a minute, looking Mark’s outfit up and down, and finally Mark turned, a frown on his features.
“No...I have a shift at the caff...and Gaz is going to open up the shop for a few hours. Why?” Robbie grinned cheekily and shook his head.
“Nothing. Just...don’t ever change, Markie,” he replied. Mark narrowed his eyes at him then.
“We’re not on joking terms right now, you do know that don’t you?” Mark reminded him and Robbie shrugged, looking up at him with a small smile, his blue eyes bright and honest.
“Who said I was joking?” Mark visibly softened at that, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He picked up the two mugs of tea and moved over to the kitchen table.
“Come on, sit down,” he said, the suggestion more gentle and genuine this time. Robbie finally pushed himself off the doorframe and came to sit next to Mark, taking the offered tea and watching as Mark set about shovelling sugar into his own.
“So are you actually ready to talk now, or are you going to storm off and hide in your room again like last night?” he tried and Mark shot him a warning look.
“Look, you can’t just show up at my home, Rob. After everything you’ve done you can’t expect to just show up like that and it all be fine in seconds.” Robbie nodded in acknowledgement and glanced away, but out of the corner of his eye he could still see Mark’s thoughtful expression, could see the way he was biting at his lip and rubbing a hand over his face. “Gaz should’ve at least warned me.”
“We knew if we told you, you’d say no. What with Jay and everything...we knew you’d have a ready-made excuse to put everything else aside,” Robbie sighed, looking nervously in Mark’s direction and hoping he understood, but Mark was frowning now, suddenly cross again.
“But Rob, it’s not an excuse, you know? Jay could’ve...he could’ve died. I mean, a few centimetres to the left and who knows, a couple more minutes in the ambulance...and he never asked for that. Jay doesn’t ask for his problems, he doesn’t deliberately try and self-destruct and so he doesn’t deserve the destruction. He deserves friends. And for everything to be ok.”
“What, and I don’t?” Robbie suddenly felt defensive, though he couldn’t help the voice in the back of his head warning him that what Mark was saying wasn’t exactly far from the truth.
“Life’s a bitch to Jay, Rob. Just as much of a bitch to him as it’s ever been to you. He’s only human, he doesn’t always react in the best way, you know? But he still at least tries to be good to people.”
“And how is he at accepting help when he needs it?” Robbie asked and Mark faltered. Because he’d said it himself; Jay is only human, they all are only human. And if there’s one thing humans are bad at, it’s asking for help when they need it.
“He knows who he can trust at least,” he said at last and Robbie nodded thoughtfully.
“But trusting is easier said than done,” he replied. For a moment the two of them sat in silence, both staring into their mugs as if somehow all the answers to their questions and conflicts could be found inside. But there weren’t answers there – perhaps there weren’t any answers, as such, to be found anywhere at all. They had too much shared history to ever not be bound together, but that same history was what stopped them from feeling as though they could risk being so closely bound again. Robbie swallowed and flicked a glance at Mark, who felt the look and looked up to meet the stare.
“There ought to be some people you just trust though, Rob. There ought to be some people that you just know...you just know they would never turn on you.”
“I know there should. But it doesn’t...it doesn’t always work that way, does it? I mean...even Jay would tell you that wouldn’t he?” Robbie looked down at his hands. “Look I...I’m sorry that I doubted you, Mark. And I’m sorry I doubted Gaz. I just...all I really have left to love these days is my music. And I can’t even trust that to stay.”
“Then how is anything ever going to be ok between you and us, Rob?”
“Because...it has to be. Because...because Jay could’ve died and that fact alone makes everything else seem stupid. I don’t want to fight about who sings which line in a song when Howard and Jay are having to fight to even stay together. I don’t want to fight over whether or not I’m in the band because I don’t care as long as I’m still in your lives, still your friend.” Robbie closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face and taking a steadying breath. He could hear his pulse echoing in his head, and he could feel Mark’s eyes on him; quiet, unwavering. “I guess I got used to lower expectations than that though, you know? I expected you to be leaving, and I’d rather it was on my terms than yours. It’s just...I know it sounds daft, Mark, but I’ve grown up like that. I mean, when you say you’re from Stoke, people will just turn around and call you scum to your face, you know? Even people who probably have some hand-painted Wedgewood in their attic that they’re planning to sell for a bomb, the minute you let slip what city you’re from, they formulate an opinion without knowing you...or your city for that matter – what I’m trying to say is...I got used to it not mattering how much good you did, to it all being about the bad. I got used to not needing to please anyone.”
“So...your music is your Trentham Gardens,” Mark said softly, a sad, tiny smile touching the corner of his lips. Robbie smiled too, nodding slowly and letting slip a small chuckle.
“Yeah. And my Britannia Stadium, my canal-path, my pottery industry...” he stopped and sighed. “But then everyone just remembers the incinerator don’t they.”
“Your temper. They way you always change your mind.”
“My ego.”
“Your tendency to drink before you think.” Robbie nodded and the two men fell once more into silence. For a moment all that history was so close to the present that they could almost hear it, past arguments echoing in both their minds. And Robbie knew, he just knew, that he could never make Mark forget. And Mark shouldn’t forget, because if he did then he might lose that spark, that spirit he’d developed, and that would be wrong. Because Mark needed that edge – as lovely as he was all bubblegum and candyfloss, he wasn’t a proper person, wasn’t fully formed without those extra spikes round the edges. And Robbie realised that perhaps the same was true of him too. He needed the grit and the grime and the grazes on his knees – they taught him things, like how to appreciate that fact he even had friends at all. And the fact they wanted to help him.
“I am sorry, Mark. For everything. And I just...I don’t know what else I can say.” Robbie slowly looked up and was surprised when he found himself gazing into Mark Owen’s round, kind face. Those eyes twinkling, those lips somehow never far from a smile. Mark reached out his hand across the table and placed it on top of Robbie’s own.
“Peace in our time?” The sound of Gary’s voice jolted both Mark and Robbie and they jumped slightly, turning to look over to the doorway, where Gary stood, towelling his hair dry, a sunny smile on his face. Robbie grinned back at him, giving his best attempt at a casual shrug, though his whole body still ached from the impact of Mark’s hand against his skin. Gary waggled his eyebrows then, his gaze coming to rest on Mark. “Is that a yes?” Mark quickly drew himself up in his seat, waving a warning finger in the older man’s direction.
“Er, not so fast, Gary Barlow, I’ve not even started with you yet!”
Howard took the envelop from his pocket and bit hard on his lip as he set it down. The pain stung the backs of his eyes but he still didn’t cry. Not that he didn’t want to, he wanted to more than anything. But he was afraid the disturbance of a single tear might alter the air too much. And he didn’t want that, didn’t want to wake Jason. Because it was nice to see him asleep. Howard had always been aware that Jason had a different beauty when he slept, different to the vibrant one he had when he was awake. Unguarded beauty. Unafraid. To know Jason you had to know both faces, had to know all those characters he could be when awake, but also the one he was when he was asleep. And, Howard realised, he did. He knew them all, loved them all. But what did Jason really know of him? To forget someone you were supposed to love was to forget a thousand different things – you couldn’t love in one dimension, two wasn’t even enough. There was so much that had to be lost...and if it was lost, if that was possible, then had you really ever known it at all?
He wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel their skin touch, but it occurred to him that it would just be another memory. No use to him, and to Jason, not even a memory at all.
When he turned to leave, he was surprised to see Tony Orange, waiting in the doorway to the room, his blue eyes unnervingly similar to Jason’s as they glittered quietly back at Howard.
“Tony...” Howard kept his voice to a whisper. Partly because he was afraid of waking Jason, but mostly because those strangely familiar eyes had him half convinced that this man could read him just as easily as his son; if he spoke too loudly, Tony would know what he was doing here, and he would try to change his mind. Would Jason try to change his mind if he were awake though?
“You’d think I’d have learnt by now, wouldn’t you?” Tony Orange murmured, his eyes no longer on Howard but on Jason. Howard frowned slightly, glancing over his shoulder to where Jason slept before turning back to look at Tony. A tired face. A sad face. The older man clearly hadn’t slept these past two nights. “I’m sorry, Howard. For the things I said.” Tony sighed heavily and looked back at Howard with a rueful smile. “You ever wondered where my boys all got their pig-headedness from?” Howard couldn’t help but smile back.
“I don’t know, Tony...Jenny can give as good as she gets too,” he whispered. Tony inclined his head slightly as if to agree, his lips twisting up for another brief moment.
“But she has a few more brain cells than I do. And so does our Jay.” Howard didn’t know what to say to that – because perhaps there was some truth in it, and perhaps, Howard thought, he himself had very little room to talk. After all, was he behaving in the smartest fashion? But he didn’t want to try and pick apart his own decisions now, not at this point. At this point he couldn’t change his mind. He was scared to do that, scared in case he caused them any more rain. “Look I...me and Jay we...” Tony’s voice interrupted Howard’s thoughts and he looked over into the older man’s face, once more staring into eyes he felt he already knew well. Only...they were oh-so-slightly different. “Me and Jay...me and him we...” Tony was grasping for words he didn’t even need to say. Howard already understood and he nodded his head slowly, awkwardly.
“I know, Tony,” he said. And Howard did know. He knew all about the difficulties Jason and his father had had, he knew all about the wrongs, on both sides, and all about the slow-rebuild. But the way Tony looked at him when he said it...Howard supposed it hadn’t occurred to him that Jason had explained it all. But even Tony himself didn’t know half of what Howard knew. And he could tell from the way Howard said those words. I know. How many times had he said those words to Jason too?
“I’ve only ever really known him at his best, haven’t I, I suppose.” Howard frowned slightly but Tony was already looking beyond him again, his eyes back on Jason. “Before I left...and after you arrived. Those are the times he’s been the most open to me. Maybe that was the problem...maybe I...I don’t know what I was thinking. I lost so much time with him, even more than the others, Howard. And it was time you didn’t even need in order to know him better. I was jealous I suppose.” Tony closed his eyes. “I was glad when I saw you here this morning...maybe it was easier to just keep missing you but...but it wasn’t right. I wanted to say sorry to you, Howard. And I am sorry, you know? For the things I said, the way I treated you. For everything.” Tony opened his eyes and looked up at Howard then, a hopeful gaze that Howard could only meet with a shake of his head. He couldn’t hear this now – by tomorrow Tony Orange would no doubt be wanted to take it all back, he supposed.
“There’s no need, Tony. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
Howard was aware of Tony watching him leave. He could feel those blue eyes – and he thought, briefly, that that must be the most frustrating of the Orange Family traits. The stubbornness, the cheekiness, they could be lived with. But the way they always knew. It unnerved him but he loved it. And that was the reason he couldn’t turn back. Because Tony would know. And there was no way he would let it lie then. Another Orange Family trait, Howard supposed.
Gary was just about to close up the shop when the call came, was locking up the till for the day and heading for the door. Mark had just appeared through the shop door, his waiter’s apron still tied around his waist, and Robbie was sorting through a box of old records, deciding which ones were – as he put it – too good for the people of Manchester. Gary’s mobile rang at, at first, Mark and Rob didn’t even look up. Mark looked over Robbie’s shoulder as he pointed out a record to him and Gary picked up his mobile without thinking to look who was calling him.
“Oh, hi Justin.” Mark and Robbie’s heads moved in unison at that, their wide gazes travelling up from the record to Gary, suddenly interested. The feeling of hope seemed to well up from the floorboards of the old shop itself. That was until they saw Gary’s expression change. Those blue eyes of his turned into the colour of a winter sea, his eyebrows knitting together as he listened. “No. But we’ll er...we’ll keep a lookout. And I’ll try and track Howard down for you too.”
When he finally hung up the phone, Robbie scrambled to his feet and he and Mark hurried across the room. Gary seemed to be moving in slow motion as he placed his mobile down on the shop counter, taking in a deep breath and running a hand across his face.
“Gaz, what is it? What’s wrong?” Mark’s voice sounded small even to him.
“Is Jay ok? Why do they need to contact Howard?” Robbie asked at the same time, his big eyes a terrified shade of blue. Gary opened his eyes, dropping his hands to his sides and looking up at the ceiling, not able to meet Mark or Robbie’s eyes.
“Jay’s gone missing from the hospital. And no one can get a hold of Howard to break the news.”
Chapter Fourteen: Thursday, A Summer Evening, The Sky Just Starting To Change Shade
It was one of those English summer evenings, where the air was still and you could hear the birds cooing to one another even in the city. The sky was cornflower blue, the sun low, and if you squinted then you could just make out the moon already starting to peak out into the cooling air. Somewhere in the distance the dull roar of traffic scratched slightly at the peace, but there wasn’t even a flicker of a breeze. And so Howard stood still, hardly let out a breath.
He knew he was there – don’t ask him how he knew. The problem was he was so used to feeling him everywhere that for a moment he put it down to an echo of a memory. That was until he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. And, as far as he knew, memories didn’t shuffle on the pavement.
“I thought I’d find you here.” So gentle. So soft. And yet Howard almost jumped. He turned, half expecting to see nothing there but his own shadow – after all, why would he be here? How would he be here? But he was and Howard was sure of it.
“Jay...” He didn’t know why his voice sounded so uncertain when, inside, he knew. That tall figure with the bright blue eyes – more than an outline, more than a ghost – was the figure that had been following him for years now. He knew him. Intimately. And he was always there. But how? Howard didn’t know. But he always was. The word ‘stay’ might’ve come to his mind if his mind hadn’t been struggling under a weight of a hundred-odd tangled emotions, but instead all he could think was that Jason was here and that it made no sense...yet he liked it. Jason was squinting against what was left of the sunlight and, though his lips didn’t curve in the slightest, there was a smile in his face when he looked at Howard that they both knew only Howard could see. “How did you...how come you’re...” Howard didn’t know what he was really asking, didn’t know why he wasn’t just moving towards him, taking his hand, bringing their skin close once more. And, at the same time, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t moving away from him, preserving the distance and making it greater, vaster. That would have been better self-preservation than just standing there. But all he knew was that Jason’s eyes were looking right into his own and he didn’t dare break that moment. It might be the last time he looked into those eyes. After today...he swallowed. “How?” he asked more softly and Jason’s smile briefly reached his lips as he took a single step closer to Howard. He looked down, almost shy but, more than that, looking thoughtful.
“Do you remember that summer, when I convinced you to stay here with me?” Stay. “You whined for weeks at the simple suggestion. I think you spent the whole of winter moaning. You tried to persuade me to come with you on some winding trip through Scandinavia...”
“I wanted us to work our way round the Baltic, head through Denmark down to Germany,” Howard murmured and Jason looked up at him then, their eyes meeting briefly as they shared a smile.
“You wanted to not be in the same hotel room twice,” Jason corrected – a teasing reprimand that made Howard’s heart contract into the smallest of balls. He could feel his whole chest squeeze tight and he had to look away, swallowing hard. “You hated summer,” Jason added quietly, taking another step closer. Howard closed his eyes and squeezed them shut. “I think you’re one of the only people I’ve ever known who thought summer went on too long and winter was too short.”
“I couldn’t persuade you,” Howard whispered, risking a look in Jason’s direction. And Jason actually laughed, a soft chuckle that made Howard want to hold him. He’d always liked the way Jason’s laughs vibrated through his whole body, liked the feel of them when Jason was pressed against his chest. He had missed that feeling and he immediately craved one last one...but would he ever be able to leave after that? Probably not. He’d just keep thinking to himself ‘one last one, one last one...’, always waiting, hesitating. Jason wrapped his arms around himself, shivering slightly in the cooling summer air, and Howard had to fight himself not to cross the space between them to hold him, to wrap his jacket around him and press him against his chest.
“I wanted to try and change your mind,” Jason sighed, his voice so gentle, so fond.
“You wanted to be a stubborn bastard,” Howard shot back quickly, almost raising a grin; he couldn’t resist the banter. But when Jason laughed again Howard regretted his own weakness. Because that laugh unleashed the ache in his belly, the one he’d been desperately trying to tame, the one that had stopped him from driving off hours ago. The bags were in the car, why wasn’t he? Because of that ache. And that ache was because of that man. He looked up at Jason and for a second he hated him, because he loved him so immensely. So much more immensely than was good for either of them.
“Well, I couldn’t let the Orange side down, I had to give you a bit of the bossy-boots treatment,” Jason was smiling more broadly now and Howard had to look away for fear of kissing him. “Anyway, the point is, I finally got you to stay. That summer, I got you to stay.” Stay. Stay. “And it was golden. Only rained a little bit. Nothing for Manchester. You actually didn’t want it to end.” Jason was looking at him, he could feel it, but Howard couldn’t look back, couldn’t risk getting caught in that same memory. Golden – it had been golden, hadn’t it? “Then you discovered this spot by the river, where it’s hardly ever windy and you can catch some of that same gold light at sunset, no matter what the time of year.” Jason took another step closer. “Nothing is ever lost here.” Howard felt a tear slide down his cheek. The Orange family who always knew. Howard sniffed and tried to keep Jason from seeing his face – but Jason would know he was crying, he always did. Jason Orange who always knew Howard Donald. Jason Orange who, even after everything, always knew . Then Howard felt his breath catch and he looked up, turning and staring dazedly into Jason’s face as realisation struck.
“But how did you...” Jason’s blue eyes glittered, specks of light like raindrops on a window-glass at night. “You remember.”Jason didn’t reply immediately, looking down a moment and drawing in a breath before reaching into his pocket for something. When he took his hand out from his pocket, Howard’s lips parted a little in surprise. That glint of metal. It had been in his own hands just a few hours before. Jason’s eyes met his own, still glinting, but more sadly now.
“I remembered. And you forgot.”
It was written in the piano chords. Their history. Not that it came back that easily. Fragments, that’s how it happened. Little pieces of knowledge that he had no real basis for or understanding of, but that he just knew. In Howard’s singing he found the memory of running his thumb beneath the older man’s eyes and finding tears there, and he remembered that it was a cool afternoon and that they had been alone. And for all that there were profound things to be gained from the song’s lyrics, all they gave to Jason was the unshakeable conviction that Howard had once wrestled him for the television remote and ended up breaking the thing entirely. He couldn’t remember the wedding vows, or even the proposal that led to them, but he remembered sitting on the grass in a crisp white shirt, talking to a young girl who swore blind she would never have let her dad marry anyone else as she made promises about never forgetting she adored him, even when she grew up and it became silly to adore anyone the way she adored him then. She had made him link their little fingers together and he’d winked at her and told her he’d hold her to that when she was forty.
Jason lay back in his bed and closed his eyes, letting the music seep further down into his skin. And slowly he began to remember more. Being crept up on at the shop and nearly destroying an entire box of records by dropping them down the stairs. An argument over coffee stains on the sofa. Holding hands at a zoo. And dancing. Lots and lots of dancing – in clubs, in their living room, at night, in the morning, in the shop and in the middle of a pub one particularly raucous Christmas, Mark and Gary even joining in. It was under the weight of these memories that Jason fell asleep.
He woke at 1am, more confused than ever, and untangled himself from his headphones before he fell asleep once more. By 4am he remembered nothing of where he was or why, but he did remember Howard and he knew he missed him and the ache of that fact alone was enough for him not to take in the hospital surroundings when he opened his eyes. Instead he had turned over and fallen asleep once more. By the time he woke up again his head hurt and the sun was shining and he became more aware that he was definitely in a hospital – a fact that suddenly made him feel nauseous, and, in self-defence, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep some more. After a while his determination worked, but he dreamt about an argument and breaking glass. And it felt real enough that his face stung. By the next time he woke up, he just about managed to piece the rest of it together. And it hurt him.
A bad time, perhaps, to find Howard’s envelope. Or maybe there was no time better – he was still in a dazed enough state to not feel the real impact of what he knew the envelope stood for. He was running on some back-up supply, some reserve of energy that didn’t allow him much of a moment to feel angry, or even feel hurt. But his breath still caught when he saw that unmistakable scrawl on the front; ‘Sorry. Howard x’. Yet, Jason thought, his breath had only caught because, even after everything, Howard still trusted him to understand. Still expected him to know. Two words. Two, brief words. No ‘it’s over’ and no ‘goodbye’, perhaps because Howard knew that those words, more than any others, would cut Jason open and destroy him beyond repair. No. All Howard gave Jason was two words and a key. The key to the apartment. And Jason understood. Even half-asleep and filled to the brim with painkillers, Jason understood. He closed his eyes a moment, trying to focus them, trying to focus himself. He clasped the key tight in his hand, wishing, just for a moment and not with any real seriousness, that that stupid, obstinate man wasn’t his husband. And for a brief second he found himself slipping into Howard’s logic, thinking back over everything they’d been through, battling the weight of it. A hard thing to do when simultaneously battling the weight of uncertainty that came when he thought about their future. And he understood, he did, because for a moment he wanted to lay back down, key clasped in his hand, and try to forget all over again. But then he thought back over the things which had come back to him as he’d listened to Mark’s CD. Fighting over the remote, sitting on the back step at his dad’s house, clasping Howard’s hand, sharing promises with Grace and dancing and dancing and dancing some more, together and apart, because they could dance because they knew each other. And he remembered shouting down his entire family too. Because, damn it, Howard Donald was worth fighting for.
Jason sucked in a breath. He couldn’t let it lie, however good Howard’s intentions. He knew it was wrong, he knew that the two of them would forever be defined, to some extent, by their relationship with each other. And he knew that relationship was better than this, it was better than ending. Howard was a splinter wedged too deep within him to be removed. And he had to find him – hospital be damned.
But it was all very well knowing he had to find him – it was knowing how to find him he was struggling with. How long ago had that envelope even been put there? And how quickly was Howard capable of packing up his life and getting out of the country? There had been a time when Howard could pack up his life in the space of a half-hour. But Jason knew that, thanks to him, Howard was out of practice at that. And he hoped he’d maybe rendered him incapable of really leaving at all. Rubbing a hand over his face, Jason stretched his mind as far back as he could, all those fragments of memories which had only just assembled themselves to form the whole picture were now being picked apart once more as he tried to find something, anything, he could work with.
And that’s when he thought of that summer. He clasped the key in his hand and was grateful for remembering. The summer he gave Howard that key – that was where Howard would be.
Under a sky the colour of dust, the two men stood so still that any passersby could have been forgiven for mistaking them for shadows. And maybe they were, in a way. Shadows of what they had been in that place – once together and laughing and golden, now they stood still and quiet and apart. Howard was suddenly hyper-aware of his own heart, of the shape of it within his chest, of the way it shivered when Jason looked at him that way. His eyes still shone, still glimmered the way they always did when they looked at him. But there was an anger beneath it that he couldn’t mask from a man who knew him as well as Howard did.
“Jay, please don’t...”
“Jay, please don’t what?” Howard almost flinched and he felt his heart shivering again. The back of his throat felt cold and, even as Jason’s face softened slightly, he hardly dared breathe. “I’m not programmed to ‘don’t’, Howard. I’m programmed to kick and to shout until you listen to me. I’m programmed to stand in your way,” Jason said, softly but with a gaze of steel.
“Even if you don’t remember me?” Howard ventured and Jason raised an eyebrow, as though accepting the challenge. I’ll see your hurt and raise you a betrayal – Howard knew every flicker of that face and he wished he didn’t. “I mean, are you here because of me or are you here because you remembered?”
“Howard Donald, there have been days when I’ve only breathed in because of you.”
“But that’s not what I asked you, Jay.”
“You shouldn’t have to ask what you asked, How. After all, you were the one who only left two words of explanation for me. And yet you still knew that I would know.”
“Because you always know,” Howard snapped, trying not to cry. Jason shook his head.
“Then why don’t you know, Howard?” he asked, the words barely more than a breath. He spoke so quietly, and strangely that scared Howard more than if he’d yelled. He could cope with a fight, he could storm out of a fight in righteous anger. But Jason gave him nothing to be righteous about – he was simply standing in front of Howard with his honesty. Raw and wounded, out there for all to see. “Why don’t you know that I’m here because of you, How?” Howard closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to his face, willing everything away, wishing he’d just left whilst it was still easy to. But then, when had it really been easy? He wouldn’t still be here if there had ever been a point where this was easy, where leaving was easy.
“You forgot me.” He had to keep saying it, had to keep reminding Jason that he was the one who had been betrayed, he was the one who had cause to be hurt. Jason’s blue eyes glistered. Tears were there but there was more there too – an affection, a sympathy? Howard didn’t need to look up to feel it – Jason could always pierce him with a look from forty yards or more.
“I forgot your name, not who you are.”
“You forgot everything, Jay. Everything. Like it’s something that can just be lost – like a fucking phone number or a letter or pen.” Howard looked up at Jason with wide, imploring eyes, desperate for him to understand that he couldn’t cope with that, desperate for him to see just how ridiculous it made their entire relationship look. “How could it mean that little?” he asked. But the tears remained in Jason’s eyes and he shook his head and looked to the sky and Howard’s heart shook in his chest, a peculiar cocktail of fear and anger settling on it and reacting painfully with the love which still resided there.
“You held my face in your hand and I let you. I didn’t question you. I didn’t question anything. You held my face in your hand and you held everything I was in your hands and you chose to leave.”
“I had to leave. Don’t you think it would be reckless? To dive into a relationship again, to being us again? We have done nothing but fight and struggle since we met each other. And for what? When do we actually get to reap the benefits, Jay? I have fought so hard and I’ve been fighting for years now. And it turns out I fought for something which was actually so insignificant it could be forgotten in a day.” Howard felt a tear slide down his cheek. “And you expect me to let it happen again?” He shook his head. “Reckless.” He looked down, unable to hold Jason’s stare as he admitted the hardest truth. “I’m not that strong, Jay. I’m not that strong and I never will be.”
The wordless space which fell around them stung their skin – all salt and cold air – and somewhere in the city the roar of the traffic got louder, making the space between their bodies feel suddenly cavernous. “It’s just been one ordeal after another, and I can’t do it anymore. I’m not that strong.” Howard was sure if he repeated it then it would become enough to justify leaving and Jason would agree and this would all be over. He just wanted to stop hurting, wanted his heart to stop shuddering in his ribcage. “I can’t stand the not knowing anymore.” There was another pause and Howard found just enough courage to look up into Jason’s face. The cuts which littered it looked harsher in the fading summer light, a darkness that also lingered in his eyes.
“Life is about ambiguity, Howard. Not every poem has to rhyme to be beautiful. We don’t get to pick that stuff, you don’t get to chose the happy ending every time. But you don’t see a golden summer coming any more than you see a year of rain ahead.” Jason looked at Howard intently, coming one more step closer. “I didn’t see you coming.” Howard couldn’t help but smile. A brief, lopsided smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Love is brave. And a bit wild. And maybe stupid, I learnt that from you too. And I never saw you coming, How. You bowled into me and that made the ambiguity suddenly...exciting. We’re neither of us saints, How. We’ve both screwed things up and we’ve dragged each other to the brink so many times. But we’re still standing here, on the edge of forever.”
“And you don’t think that’s reckless of us? Standing on a cliff-face at the start of God-only-knows what with nothing but love on our side?”
“No. I think that’s the only way to cope with life. You have to stay. You have to stand your ground.”
“But you forgot, Jay.”
“No. I asked you to stay.”
“Jay...”
“You know what that means, How.”
“Jay, please don’t...”
“What happened to the man who swore he’d wait for life?” Howard’s head snapped up.
“And what happened to the man who promised me I was on his mind for life?” Jason laughed, a sad laugh that had a throat of tears behind it, and shook his head.
“At what point was I not thinking of you, How? Tell me, because I want to know, I want to go back to that moment, coz maybe in that moment I could actually breathe.”
The silence lasted longer this time. Neither one of them was capable of backing down, not now. They were both convinced that they were right and neither one of them had the inclination to lose this battle – both of them had their issues, Howard had his insecurities and Jason had his past, and neither one of them had had enough sleep to cope with the emotions stirred up inside them in any rational way. Jason had used up whatever strength he had left and for a moment he wavered on his feet. Howard noticed and moved to steady him before he realised what he was doing. Both men froze and gazed into each other’s faces. At some point it had started to rain and, for the first time, Howard noticed that the dampness on his cheeks wasn’t just down to tears.
“What is it with us and the rain?” he whispered with a sad smile that Jason returned.
“You always forget, though, our first kiss was in the rain,” he replied in a murmur. Howard nodded and looked down. “You know, it doesn’t all have to be absence and broken glass.”
“Too much has happened, Jay.”
“Funny, my argument is exactly the same.” Howard looked back into his face and he couldn’t help but think of that look as the last – the final look to try and remember that face, to try and turn that face into a memory, to try and prevent that face becoming a ghost that followed him. But that face was a shadow of what it could be. Jason’s eyes, tired and tearful, were not the shade of blue they had been the day they had first met. Howard would rather remember them that way than this.
“They didn’t just let you out, did they.” Not a question. Jason simply shrugged.
“I imagine Justin is sending out a search party as we speak.”
“I should tell them where you are.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Jason whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek and forming a pathway between the raindrops and cuts that Howard traced with his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jay,” he murmured, cupping Jason’s cheek in his hand. He rubbed the tear-track with his thumb and, as Jason’s eyes fluttered closed, Howard pressed a single kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he repeated and he slowly dropped his hand, stepping back and swallowing a new wave of tears which had been edging up his throat. He felt the moment Jason’s eyes opened again, but he didn’t look, choosing instead to keep walking away, to try and make the distance as great as possible before Jason, inevitably, got the last word.
“So I guess this isn’t the place where nothing was lost.” Howard paused, swallowed, but didn’t look back. He was a full three paces away from Jason by now, but that voice, soft as it was, was resolute and Howard couldn’t ignore it, not even in the rain. “I guess it’s the place where everything was lost.” Howard squeezed his eyes shut. “Everything I had to give was in asking you to stay.” There was a pause in which both men listened to the sound of the rain on the pavement. “So I guess I lost, then. Yet again.”
Chapter Fifteen: Friday, A Little Over Twenty-Four Hours Later
The first thing he noticed was the abandoned book on the armchair. The sight felt more familiar than it ought to. But he had seen it so many times when he rolled in late from a gig. His life had been pulled in, contained in this space for so long. This place was still home, he could still read it and the book on the armchair was like a plot-point on a map.
He had found the key to the apartment in his pocket that morning, the metal grazing his fingertips and taking him by surprise. He’d pulled it out and stared at it for an indeterminate amount of time. How long had he been sitting staring before the words had slipped out? Stubborn bastard. It wasn’t an angry admission. It was soft, whispered. Affectionate. Jason Orange, that stubborn bastard. That stubborn, silly, loyal bastard. Still his stubborn, silly, loyal bastard.
Howard found Jason sleeping. (Home, it was home.) The sight stirred up wonder inside him always. The fact that this still, silent creature could be unfurled from inside his Jason – his ever-moving Jason – fascinated him endlessly. For a moment he could just watch him and forget that the last time he had seen him he had been crying. Crying because of him – that was the part he most wanted to forget. He wanted to forget that the pair of them were stubborn and silly and reckless with their lives. Even more reckless with their hearts. And he almost could forget for that moment, for that brief moment as he stood in the doorway watching Jason sleep. Because in that moment, Jason was still. Breathing in and out in his Jason rhythm, his heart beating steady in between the patters of the raindrops. Howard rested his head on the doorframe and felt that ache inside him become a thrum that he could only labelled as ‘being alive’. He studied Jason with sad blue eyes and he wanted to go over to him, but feared disturbing that stillness. Because look at him, look at that man who so many people knew as busy and flittering, but really only Howard knew as this serene man, hush-asleep on top of the sheets. (Home, it was home.) On his own side of the bed too, as though that still mattered to him, even after everything that had happened. It was like an invitation that Howard had to fight not to accept. Jason had Howard’s pillow pulled against him, though – the man that had taught him how to hope and now he hoped for no one but him. Howard almost smiled, even as his heart began to shake in his chest again. Surely he should go, leave now. Surely he shouldn’t have come here at all. There was still a voice inside him saying he should go. Reckless, the pair of us. He could leave now and Jason might never know he’d even been here. He could, couldn’t he? Only...he knew he couldn’t. Not really. (Home, it was home.) He belonged here, he always had. There was still a place carved out for him here – it was his face in the picture-frames, his daughter’s school bag in the corridor. It was the shape of his body which was missing from the bed. Besides...Jason would know he’d been here. This was the man who could hear the words Howard didn’t say. This was the man who, even as Howard was vowing to walk away forever, had still had the presence of mind to slip the key to the apartment back into his pocket. This was the man who hardly ever said ‘stay’, but when he did, he said it to Howard. Stay. Everything he did was an expression of that word. Howard closed his eyes in regret as he remembered himself walking away. How had he left him in the rain? All he’d had to do was stay. (Life, this was life.)
He could have just walked over to him. Sat down on the bed like it was any other rainy Friday in Manchester, coaxed him awake with some whispered greeting and watched what expressions played on his face. But the truth was he didn’t trust himself not to kiss him. And anyway, what could he even say? He’d only remember those tears and the rain and he’d realise he didn’t deserve this man. Or worse, Jason might look at him with eyes that had lost all hope and declare that forgiveness, this time, was asking too much. Everything I had to give was in asking you to stay. Howard had taken everything and broken it, so what was left to give? No. Instead Howard turned away and moved back down the corridor, reaching into his pocket for the CD.
Howard trusted music. It didn’t get scared. It didn’t stutter and stop then try and start again. It didn’t argue back for the sake of being right – not the way he did. Where he might get caught up in the moment and say the wrong thing, a song could remain entirely faithful to its emotion, unshaken by anything. Music didn’t simply explain an emotion, it made you live it – it could bring you back to a moment and even send others tumbling down into it with you. Maybe that was why he decided to go to the living room stereo and slip his latest composition into the player. Maybe that was why he didn’t shake Jason awake, but simply waited for the music to reach him, sitting himself down on the floor by the window to watch the raindrops make patterns across the glass in the meantime. Or perhaps it was the only way he could dare to try and explain. Off-kilter piano chords, soft and repetitive and heart-tired. It’s just a fraction of time, until we move in reverse. It was a start.
He knew he was there without looking. (They knew each other too well.) He hadn’t heard any footsteps in the corridor, or a tired sigh from behind him. There wasn’t even any clipped greeting. (They were beyond words really, or beyond most words, but for a select few which they kept repeating to each other in whispers and promises.) But all Howard heard was the piano chords, his own voice just starting to sing above them, and the sound of the Manchester rain. Still, he knew Jason was there, could feel his eyes on his back. Can feel the pressure on all our minds. He was suddenly aware of just how tired he felt. And just how desperately sad. It was as though the reality of the past week had only just caught up with him and so he sat, half-dazed, half-frightened, not daring to turn around. His body seemed to be in shock just from the sensation of Jason’s gaze and he was frozen, like a man who’d only just understood the ending of the film, realisation finally hitting that no one made it out alive. On the whole universe. Behind him Jason still watched, silent and steady, one hand resting against the wall, as though he needed the help to stay upright. And maybe he did. The past week had just caught up with him too. But for him it wasn’t only the emotions creeping up on him but the sheer physical energy of it all. He body ached and his heart ached and his head ached and he wanted more than anything to turn around and go back to sleep. But he couldn’t. Not when those piano chords shook him to the centre of his bones. We’ve had this battle a thousand times. Not when this man – this stupid, maddening man – was here. Jason sighed, pushing himself off the wall and coming over to the windows. He knew that, perhaps, he should just turn his back on him. He knew he was entitled to feel angry, but he simply couldn’t muster the strength. Never been here before. He pulled the sleeves of his hoody – Howard’s hoody, to be precise – down over his hands and wrapped his arms protectively around himself. Never been here before.
Howard didn’t know how long Jason stood there – it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt longer, and Howard was sure his breathing even slowed, just to drag the moment out. He could feel that terrific blue gaze on him and, for a fraction of a heartbeat, he regretted coming here. But it was only a fraction. He kept his stare trained on the windows – a way of holding onto his resolve, a flimsy armour against Jason’s ability to know, which, he was sure, was only at its strongest when he was allowed to look into his eyes. Ain’t got the strength to fight anymore. But Jason’s eyes still knew, always knew, and instead of a stubborn stand-off, Jason chose to sit down next to him, their shoulders just a breath apart. Got no desire to die anymore. A wordless gesture that provoked a pang in Howard’s chest. Every cell in his body wanted closeness, wanted to cross that tiny space that Jason had left. But Jason had left that space as protection for them both and he knew it. So he held his breath and forced himself to try and preserve what little distance was left. It was, after all, for his preservation more than Jason’s; Howard could still leave as long as they didn’t touch...but Jason knew that too, and he was the one to break their silent truce. I want to see you again, again, again. Jason’s hand came to rest on Howard’s arm and the distance was lost immediately. Now Howard was bound by a million silent promises. Ain’t got the strength to fight anymore. He felt Jason squeeze his upper arm and he liked the homeliness of the gesture. How many nights had he come home, despondent and tired and in too foul a mood for words, and Jason had somehow managed to ease it all with the slightest of squeezes. Howard shut his eyes tightly.
“What’s wrong, Howard Donald?” Whispered, like a secret for just the two of them to know. This room was the whole world when Jason whispered to him that softly and all Howard’s fears seemed suddenly ridiculous. But he could still hear the raindrops on the windows. And he could still remember all that the broken glass. What was wrong?
“Everything.” Now there was an admission. Don’t even know what I’m fighting you for. He could feel a tear sliding down his cheek, but for the first time that week it was Jason’s fingers that brushed the tear away, the touch sending a tremor along Howard’s skin. Warm. Gentle. Howard looked up at and met Jason’s gaze. And, to his amazement, Jason was smiling at him. It was faint but it was there, in his eyes if nowhere else.
“Mm.” Jason’s smile widened as he inclined his head in agreement. “It’s been one of those weeks,” he murmured, eyes glinting quietly. And Howard wanted to laugh. But the laugh came out as little more than a breath and he quickly looked down at his hands, swallowing it and shaking his head.
“You’re a stubborn bastard, Jason Orange.” He’d said it before but he felt the need to remind him anyway, and Jason rewarded him for that reminder with another small smile that danced briefly on his lips and, rather than fading away, rested there. His face was made for smiling, Howard thought.
“So they say,” Jason acknowledged, almost with a grin. “So they say.”
Again Howard lost track of time, distracted by his own heartbeat and the sound of the piano chords thrumming through his bones. And then, of course, there was Jason. This man he had tried so hard to leave behind was still there next to him – was that right? Howard looked across again.
“You should be resting,” he murmured and Jason’s eyes left the window to meet his own, a glimmer of playfulness in them that made Howard smile slightly.
“Well, I was trying. But then some idiot broke into my apartment and started playing me his demo CD.” Howard’s smile widened and Jason raised an eyebrow at him. That gesture was so familiar, a challenge to him. For a minute it was easy to forget that they’d ever left this spot – they were just bickering and teasing the way they had since they met. Always challenging each other, their constant contact and affection contradicting the declarations of war.
“Mm, you know it’s not breaking in if you have a key, right?” he replied. Jason pursed his lips, his blue eyes bright with affection that Howard wasn’t entirely convinced he deserved. “Any idea how this got back in my pocket?” he added, opening his hand to reveal his key. Jason gave him a sleepy smile, tilting his head to one side, as though seriously considering the problem.
“I willed it?” he suggested and Howard couldn’t help but let out a small, sad laugh.
“And why would you want to do that, Jay?” he asked, earnest and more than a little curious. Jason flashed that sleepy smile again, shrugging his shoulders idly and pulling his knees up to his chest.
“Because maybe I just don’t know when I’m beaten,” he said in a voice so quiet that Howard had to look at him to be sure he’d spoken at all. He studied him – and not the cuts or the strands of hair that fell across his forehead, but just him, all of him, his Jason – and he saw that sadness there that hadn’t left him since he was a kid. A kid whose dad had left and didn’t come back for far too long. He shouldn’t be able to hope the way he did. And yet he did, didn’t he. Because as resigned as his voice might sound, he was still sitting here, at Howard’s side. Willing to listen to what he had to say, even if there was a chance he would get his heart broken by it. But that was the amazing thing about Jason; he never did know when he was beaten. Dismiss it as stubbornness all you like, but actually it was something better than that. It was faith. And Howard hated himself for testing it.
“But maybe you weren’t beaten at all.” Jason looked over at him and Howard could see as much caution in his eyes as there was love. Both things he had put there. He felt Jason’s hand squeeze his arm again and he accepted the sad half-smile Jason mustered as permission to stay close.
Yesterday he had tried to leave. And that was the fact which hung in the air between them. But he hadn’t got very far. As far as Gary and Mark’s sofa, to be precise. Robbie had been there, and he and Mark had watched over him, aghast and disapproving, as he’d tried to explain to them all the reasons he had to go. And Gary had tried to pour as much tea and sense down him as he could. But Howard had been resolute. Jason wasn’t the only stubborn one, and Howard was stubbornly determined to be right this time. None of them could talk him down, and eventually they’d given up trying. In the end it was finding the key that had broken him. Jason just had to win, didn’t he? Six in the morning, scrabbling round for his phone, Howard had felt the metal and stilled immediately. The plan had been to book himself a plane ticket and use what was left of his strength to get on board the first flight to Germany available. But Jason had still been standing in his way – the man Howard had thought to have finally given up on him, the man Howard thought he had left in the rain, still always there, still always knowing. Howard didn’t know when Jason had managed to slip that key back into his pocket, didn’t know how, with the rain and the tears, he’d still had enough faith in him to do it at all. But he knew it changed something inside him. The righteous anger was gone and all that was left was confusion. The song had been borne out of that and Howard felt it explained more than he could. But he had to try and match it – Jason needed more than just music.
“Howard, why did you come here?” Howard looked over at Jason, his expression pained.
“Because I...” He faltered. Nothing had changed, not really. And he was still terrified. And convinced he wasn’t strong enough to stay. But leaving had become impossible...but maybe it had always been. “Because I think I probably belong here.” I wanna fill you with love. I wanna see you survive. Howard swallowed. “But I’m just...scared, Jay.”
“Of what?”
“Of disaster. Of rain. Of a lightning strike.” Just take a second to know yourself. “Of me bringing danger into your world just because I’m too stupid to leave you be.” For the rest of your life. Jason’s hand fell from his arm and Howard winced.
“Shut up, Howard Donald.” It wasn’t angry, but it was determined and Howard looked up at Jason in surprise. That gaze was bright, and he wasn’t smiling now. But his eyes were alive and Howard couldn’t look away. “When was the last time you can remember that it started raining and never stopped?” Jason stopped then, his face softening slightly. He reached out and Howard felt him take his hand. “I’m not used to normal, Howard. All I’ve understood for most of my life is disaster and I...I just don’t know how to love with smooth edges. My heart’s a mess no matter what you do.” He edged a little closer to Howard. “And it likes a challenge.”
“We’re not really falling apart, we’re just incomplete.” Jason smiled slightly as Howard whispered the words in perfect time and Howard looked away for fear of smiling back. “But if you forgot...”
“Howard, everything that I am – what I was, what I’ve been, what I am – is in your eyes. You’re the only one who sees all of me. And you know I never forgot that.” We’re not really falling apart, we’re just incomplete.
“Jay...” Howard breathed it out, trying to expel the anxiety, but Jason shook his head.
“Your problem is that all you listen to is the rain, Howard. And all you see is the broken glass.” Howard looked up. “Not the patterns they make. Just rain and glass and more rain.”
“And cuts too,” Howard reminded in a whisper. He touched a hand to Jason’s face then, and Jason’s eyes fluttered closed in response. He felt Howard’s fingers graze the cuts across his face and he swallowed hard, trying to stem any tears. He let out a long breath before he spoke again.
“Why did you come back, Howard?”
“Because you asked me to stay.” Jason opened his eyes slowly, meeting Howard’s nervously. “And that takes the kind of faith that shouldn’t be betrayed.” Howard smiled and glanced away. “You’re right, Jay.”
“I’m always right,” Jason managed to breathe, just avoiding more tears as he moved his hand up to Howard’s cheek.
“How can you even still look at me?” Howard’s face creased from sadness to fear and Jason smiled back at him quietly, his thumb brushing Howard’s skin as though he were trying to smooth the fear out by hand. “You asked me to stay and I left...” Howard stopped and looked into Jason’s face. “I left. How can you even stand to touch me?” he repeated and, after a beat, Jason shrugged.
“Honestly?” he sighed, still looking Howard in the eye, still on the brink of a smile. “I’m half-dazed on prescription-strength painkillers and I haven’t slept more than an hour since we last talked. I think I’m just too tired to care about the why, Howard. As long as you’re here.” Howard let out a soft laugh and Jason looked back up at him. “And...you did come home. Twenty-four hours late, but I married you in the knowledge you couldn’t keep time, so there’s no point me punishing you for that is there.” There was a glint in those eyes despite the tiredness and Howard’s lips quirked up. He leant his forehead against Jason’s, stroking a thumb across his cheek.
“I love you, you know that, right?” Jason mirrored his smile then, and, though his eyelids were heavy those eyes still shone. Jason loved him regardless of it all, Howard knew. And he saw it in that face as Jason leant back just enough to meet his eyes properly, still smiling quietly back at him.
“I never didn’t know it, love.” He leant in a little closer. “You just never thought to ask.”
The kiss had been on both their lips ever since that day at the hospital. Their arms found their ways around each other’s bodies, in patterns long-rehearsed and well-worn. Howard couldn’t help but hold Jason like he was about to break, but Jason didn’t object, because Howard was the only person allowed to know just how breakable he was. And Jason, for his part, didn’t hold Howard like he thought he was about to leave, he didn’t cling to him anxiously or clutch him close. That strangely resilient faith of his was a lot more to do with Howard than Howard would ever give himself credit for – it was a faith borne out of his touch and his love and, despite everything, it was a faith which remained. Jason knew, unshakeably, that he forgave Howard and he trusted him. He let Howard touch the cuts on his face, his fingertips tracing their path along his skin. And Howard made sure he memorised them, so that one day he could remember that they had been there, and that Jason had survived.
And later, when they were curled together underneath the sheets, listening to the rain on the windows and whispering truth and secrets back and forth, Jason asked, half-asleep, ‘Howard, are we going to be ok?’ – another admission of fragility that told Howard that, in Jason’s eyes, he would always be strong. He smiled and kissed Jason’s forehead once, looking down into his tired face.
“But don’t forget, Jay, our first kiss was in the rain.”
Epilogue
It was a Tuesday. Just another in that long, Mancunian summer. And in amidst the damp, puddled tarmac of the city, nothing could stay the same for long. Life existed in the city’s streets, never far from the next disaster. Lips would rain-spattered and cheeks would be flushed, but the city was always breathing, always beating on. In Manchester they had learnt to dance in the rain, or so some people said, and hiding from the storm was thought of as the poorest way to live. On Oldham Street a man shuffled past the red and gold front of Barlow’s Music Shop. He pressed his face up to the glass and peered inside, the shop drawing his curiosity – but all was dark and the window-display was dusty so he shook his head and went on his way.
“I just don’t understand why you’re not angrier with me – I was stood out there mithering coz I thought I was gonna get an earful.”
“Or a smack in the chops.”
“Gaz!” Mark thwacked Gary’s arm and Jason looked up in amusement at his outrage whilst Robbie smothered a smirk.
“What? I’ve seen him do it to his brothers!” Gary protested, fighting Mark for space on the armchair and losing. Howard nodded at that remark, his eyes absent.
“And then his mother does it to him and tells him to behave,” he pointed out. Jason glanced over at him with a soft smile, tilting his head.
“And she never wonders where I got it from...” he remarked, eyes twinkling playfully, and Howard looked up to meet his gaze. Jason winked at him, then turned away to see to the boiling kettle behind. Howard watched him, the corner of his lips twitching up.
“I’m just saying I know I would’ve deserved it,” Robbie put in from his space on the floor, trying to bring the conversation back to him. Mark pursed his lips and glanced away, his ears briefly ringing with the memory of broken glass, and Gary squeezed his hand and kissed his neck before glancing over thoughtfully at Jason, who had paused in his tea-making, seemingly considering Robbie’s words carefully before he replied.
“I’ve learned to pick my battles,” he said at last and Gary raised an eyebrow.
“How come?” Jason flashed another twinkling smile, suddenly dismissive of it all again.
“I married a man who can’t keep a straight face when I shout at him, it’s usually easier to just stay calm.” Jason looked over at Howard then and he smiled. He smiled his smile and from his place on the sofa Howard felt it and it made him want to smile too. Because it was finally, truly, Jason’s smile – all glittering eyes and no fear. There was no lingering dazedness and no doubt. Just Jason, looking over at Howard the way he always had. Like nothing had ever happened. And yes, most of the cuts had healed now, though there were still marks left across Jason’s skin, many of which only Howard knew. (And he knew every one of them). And yes, his wedding ring was back on his finger. (And Howard would stroke his thumb over it every night as they lay together in bed, the sheets pulled over both their heads.) But this was more than that, this was Jason finally awake. He wasn’t mumbling that all was forgiven as he slowly fell asleep. Or holding Howard close because his body was aching. He wasn’t only letting Howard stay because he was too tired to tell him to go. He was ok now. Ok with everything. His grudge was no more with Robbie than it was with Howard. There was no grudge. They’d all survived. And Jason still looked up to meet Howard’s eyes – and Howard’s eyes only – as he laughed and Robbie chattered away. It was raining still, even now Howard could hear it on the window, but they were all still here all the same.
Jason handed round the teas, climbing over Robbie in order to get back to his spot on the sofa, curling himself into Howard’s side.
“So I had a call from Jonathan yesterday.” Mark and Robbie’s good-natured bickering paused as they looked over at Gary wide-eyed. Jason lifted his head from Howard’s shoulder, and Howard’s gaze finally left Jason’s face. The four men paused, wordless, watching Gary and trying to judge what sort of news he might be about to impart. And then, slowly, Gary’s face broke into a smile. “He said there’s people interested in taking us on as songwriters. We just have to say if we’re up for it.” Mark gasped and Robbie grinned and both were clearly about to gush into enthusiastic agreement when, to everyone’s surprise, Jason laughed. Robbie’s head spun round and he looked at him carefully, waggling his eyebrows in joking concern.
“Watch out Howard, I think Jay’s lost his marbles.” For that Jason leant over and cuffed Robbie lightly round the head, but his grin only widened.
“You’re implying he had marbles to lose,” Howard mumbled. Jason sighed and rolled his eyes.
“You married me,” he pointed out, deadpan, and Howard could stop the shy, childish smile that touched his lips. He didn’t look at Jason, but he knew his eyes were shining. “Look I’m just...don’t any of you find us slightly ridiculous? As a group of people, I mean? We just lurch from one life-altering event to the next without ever stopping for breath!” he reminded them all and Robbie smirked. Gary couldn’t help but grin either, but over Howard and Mark’s faces, anxious clouds passed. Howard swallowed and tried to steady his heartbeat, but he knew it was too late, Jason already knew how he was feeling.
“So you’re not up for it? This songwriting thing?” Mark ventured and Jason flashed him a smile.
“I never said that.” Mark’s face fell back into its usual grin and Jason glanced at Howard “But...I don’t think it’s my decision to make.” Howard looked down at the floor and pretended not to have noticed Jason’s gaze. “I’m not the steel of this band,” Jason added softly. Those words were what forced Howard to look at him. This was life, happening right here and their home, with all its uncertainty. And rain – there was rain still, he could hear it still. But they were still here. Stay, Howard. You taught me to stay so stay with me too. That was how they had built their life, it was all they knew.
“Will you still dance with me even if it all goes pear-shaped?” he whispered and Jason smiled at him, giving his hand a tight squeeze.
“Always.” Howard kissed Jason’s temple and the other three watched them, stifling relieved smiles before pretending to be fascinated by their mugs of tea.
It was a Tuesday. And, in that moment, it was just another in that long, Mancunian summer.
And something starts all over again.
It was a Tuesday. Just another in that long, Mancunian summer. But in amidst the damp, puddled tarmac of the city, everything had changed. It wasn’t just another Tuesday anymore and he came to loath the rain more than ever.
“Jay.” He hardly noticed himself say it. Whispered. Neither as hopeful nor as terrified as he expected it to sound. Resigned. Uncertain, perhaps. It wasn’t far from here that they’d kissed that first time. He remembered, of course. Had never forgotten and could never forget. It had been raining then too.
Slowly Howard knelt down, ignoring the people standing frozen on the pavement, their mouths open. His blue eyes were carefully trained, studying that face. That familiar face. There were cuts on his cheeks and glass on the ground. It was only the cuts Howard paid any mind, they were the only disturbance to that otherwise peaceful expression. He touched a tentative finger to one, wincing as he felt Jason’s blood against his skin. His hand fell limply against Jason’s neck, still warm despite the coolness of the tarmac beneath. He sniffed hard and closed his eyes briefly, barely realising he was crying until he tasted salt, mingling with rain on his lips. When he opened his eyes again, Justin’s face – blurry and strained – came into his view and his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body clenched. Broken but defensive all the same. Even when he had nothing else left, he would have that need to defend him, because no one else ever seemed to bother. He’d always thought it was so wrong of them not to bother. One hand clasped protectively at Jason’s sleeve and Justin came no closer.
“Howard...” he tried, but, even if he had known what else to say to him, Howard wasn’t listening.
“Go away. Just go away. Now.” If he repeated it enough times it might work. It might work so well that the past two days – no, further back than that – might fade out too, might recede in the face of his anger, his fear. Go. Away.
Jason stirred. Slightly, briefly. Fingers moving, brushing Howard’s. Howard clasped his hand in return and swallowed hard. He just had to be strong and patient and brave and all those other clichés. He just had to ignore the voice he could hear, whispering in between the beats of the raindrops still falling down on his head. Haven’t you been here before?
More people were stopping, looking, not that Howard had noticed. He bent and pressed a kiss to Jason’s forehead – his unscathed forehead – and he murmured things that he hoped were true, though he was careful not to make any promises he couldn’t keep.
Pitter-pat. But you know this story. Pitter-pat. Do you really want to hear it again? Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, pitter-pat.
Chapter One: Sunday
“Hey, Jay, you reckon you could hold the fort here alone for a few days next week?” Jason was sitting, folded up on the armchair in the corner of the piano room, a book open in his lap and a mug of camomile tea going cold on the floor beside him. He closed his book and chuckled, looking up at Gary with a glint in his eyes. It was a typical summer Sunday, quiet and uneventful, and Jason, Gary and Mark had only staggered as far as the shop for the sake of enjoying the first day of sunshine in over a week. Manchester’s usually stubborn clouds had lifted overnight and by the time dawn had broken over the city the day had been almost recognisable as belonging to late July.
“Hmm, I reckon I’d just about survive it...but if there was a rush on clarinets I would probably have to call you to help me prevent disaster. Why, you and Mark going somewhere?” Jason asked, stretching his lean body out. Gary didn’t know whether to be envious or worried at the flash of concave stomach revealed as Jason’s shirt rode up and he frowned slightly and looked away.
“Maybe. I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.” Jason raised an eyebrow at that, glancing up at Gary’s frown before pushing himself up in his seat.
“That sounded ominous, you willing to share?” he asked and Gary chuckled slightly, shaking his head and looking over at his friend, whose blue eyes were disarmingly gentle. Being an Agony Aunt to people was a skill that Gary suspected came from being one of the less-hysterical components of a large, hysterical family. Somewhere, Gary was sure, there was an Orange Family Crest beneath which swirling handwritten Latin decreed ‘Why have a drama when you could have a crisis?’. Gary rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a long sigh.
“Don’t you have problems of your own to fret about?” he joked, but, rather than laugh, Jason merely shrugged and leant back slightly, glancing up at the ceiling.
“Yes. But I usually find other people’s problems far less messy,” he remarked, flashing Gary a sad, wry smile then looking away again. If Gary hadn’t know him, he would’ve said the comment was a flippant one. But he knew him, and knew him well, and that made all the difference.
“Sometimes I worry about you, Jay,” Gary told him with a sigh, sitting himself down on a piano stool. Jason rolled his eyes and smiled, more brightly this time.
“You worry too much, Barlow, you know that?”
“Eh, I’ll have less of your cheek thank you very much. Especially since I have it on good authority that you worry too much too,” Gary chuckled and Jason smiled at him, something between amusement and fondness glittering brightly in his eyes.
“You and Howard really need to stop talking about me so much and get hobbies of your own.”
For a while the two men sat in silence, listening to the sound of Mark strumming on his guitar in the other room. After a week of sunshine in late June, excitement had zapped through the Manchester streets, sending a thrill of liveliness through almost everyone. Manchester hadn’t quite become a city that never slept, but it had at least briefly morphed into a city that stayed up past its usual bedtime. After all that energy had been expended it had been almost a relief when the clouds had returned, mellowing everyone out. Manchester all but dozed off, so much so that it had hardly noticed this rare, sunny July Sunday. Mark’s playing fed into the haziness. It was late-morning and it was warm and somehow it seemed inappropriate to be worried about anything in that moment. That moment. A moment Gary would look back on – in two, three, four days’ time – and think that that was how summers were supposed to be. Less rain, less broken glass.
“Do you think it was better, when it was just us four?” Gary asked suddenly and Jason glanced up at him, his lips curving up into a thoughtful smile.
“Sometimes, if I’m honest.”
“Just us three?” Gary grinned and Jason laughed, an honest-to-goodness laugh that made Gary feel a certain level of reflected contentedness.
“Sometimes, if I’m honest,” Jason repeated, a sly grin on his face. Gary smirked, shaking his head.
“Mm, I’ll believe that when I see it. You know, if it wasn’t for Howard I don’t know what...”
“No, I don’t know what either,” Jason cut him off quietly, looking down at his hands. Gary smiled.
“Four is a good number though, don’t you think?”
“Gaz, we’ve talked about this. I like four...I like five. I can be loyal to my husband to a point, but he understands why I disagree with him on this and he believes in the majority winning. So if it’s a serious debate you’re looking for, I’m not sure...”
“Don’t panic, this isn’t really about Rob. Well, no, it is about Rob, just not in the way you think. You know I like him being around. I mean it, I really do. I’m not looking for a way out, I promise, and if I was I wouldn’t use Dougie, I know how bad he feels about dampening our spirits anyway, without putting a change of plans on his shoulders. No. Rob and Mark’s history is...well, it’s history.” Gary glanced out to the shop-front. The large shop window let the sunlight in on such a scale that the entire front room was in silhouette against an indistinguishable backdrop of white-gold.
“So you’re not about to suggest a ceremonial burning of the pages upon pages of ideas he’s helped us with then? No smashing up of the CDs you had him sing on with us? No...well, you couldn’t really do much about the gig we played together...” Jason’s eyes were narrowed thoughtfully at Gary and it was difficult not to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny. The truth was he was probably more enthusiastic than the rest of them put together for the new group-of-five experience to continue; music was what Gary thrived on, he fed off it and, in many ways, he was an addict, always needing more than he could ever really get. Gary needed new experiences, projects, directions, he needed things to hold his interest, he needed ways to keep his dedication to what they were doing alive. As much as he loved their four-man-band, sometimes he worried that they’d done all they could together, achieved the only sound the four of them were capable of achieving alone. Robbie Williams, however, was something totally different. Explosive and moody and strangely profound, his very presence was inspiring to Gary in so many ways and, although it was Mark who had first turned to Robbie to help them finish off a couple of new songs, Gary was fascinated by the way the younger man’s mind worked. One music addict had instantly recognised the light of another and had latched onto it immediately, realising before the rest of the band that the atmosphere of a room – of a song – was very different with the five of them than it was with the four of them.
“Look, do you think you’ll manage to manage here for a few days or not?” Gary asked softly. Jason’s eyes remained on him for a few seconds as he considered the plea.
“You’re planning something.” It wasn’t a question.
“Maybe. Just please, Jay, can you do me this one favour?”
“Do you promise me this is something good? You’ve at least run this past Mark?” Jason’s voice was edged with concern. He would do anything for his friends, all he asked was that he was doing it for the right reasons.
“I’d never force any of you into anything, Jay, you know that.”
“Fine. But whatever you’re up to just...be careful, when you run it past Robbie, yeah? He...he feels too much sometimes, I think,” Jason replied and Gary smiled at him – a big smile that reached right out to the edges of his face.
“Cheers, Jay, you’re a mate.”
“I’m a pushover more like,” Jason grumbled good-naturedly.
Again the two men fell into a comfortable silence. Gary watched Jason tracing his finger along the spine of his book, eyes faraway. It was a sight he’d seen often enough, over the years, the sort of background scenery he took for granted. He opened his mouth, about to voice a more heartfelt thank you for that constant presence – that constant willingness to not ask more questions than necessary – when the shop’s bell broke through the peace. Gary couldn’t be sure whether Jason simply knew his husband’s footsteps or whether he’d developed a keen sixth-sense over the years, but either way, Jason was on his feet immediately.
“Morning, How – so, lie-in or meeting?” Mark was asking as Jason came through into the front room. Howard grinned shamelessly; he was, as usual, somewhat scruffy round the edges, his red t-shirt slightly crinkled, dark curls escaping from his hat, but his eyes were sparkly-bright.
“How many club owners do you know who conduct business first-thing Sunday morning?” he beamed raggedly, his gaze slowly lifting from Mark – who was still sitting on the stairs, guitar in his lap – up to Jason, who was leaning idly in the doorway.
“Howard Donald, how nice of you to show your face,” Jason folded his arms, one eyebrow arched. He was smiling the kind of smile that only Howard could detect – a smile that, in the coming weeks, he realised he must have been smiling his whole life just waiting for the moment he met someone who actually saw it.
“Come on, I’ve not seen my brother for a month, last night was several weeks’ worth of catch-up,” Howard shrugged and Jason laughed.
“But 4am?! I couldn’t rouse you this morning at all, not even with coffee! Honestly, you’re worse than a teenager!”
“You were out until four? You need to act your age, old man!” Gary appeared behind Jason in the doorway, chuckling at Howard’s lack of embarrassment.
“I told you, my brother’s been away for a while,” Howard smiled, choosing to ignore Gary’s playful jibe. Gary simply shook his head and Howard shrugged before looking back to Jason and tilting his head, his eyes imploring. Jason laughed at him, walking over to where he stood in the middle of the shop floor and, arms still folded, he kissed Howard chastely on the cheek.
“Morning,” he smiled softly.
“Morning,” Howard replied. Mark and Gary exchanged a glance, both rolling their eyes fondly.
“So, Jay has agreed to keep this place running for the week...” Gary cut the moment swiftly, clapping his hands together and moving over to the stairs to join Mark and Howard and Jason’s heads turned in comical unison at the sudden interruption. Jason recovered first, smirking slightly.
“Gaz decided I’m up to the task more like.”
“Are you and Mark off somewhere then?” Howard looked between Gary and Mark with genuine interest; Mark’s grin was wide and there was a slight flash of something in Gary’s eyes that told Howard the two of them were up to something.
“Nowhere special, but yeah, we’ll be gone for a few days,” Gary nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to Mark, who met his gaze and shot him a reassuring smile.
“Gaz, much like you, love, is under the mistaken impression that I am made of glass. He seems to think a few days here will be the death of me,” Jason informed his husband with a smirk, shooting a playful glance at Gary who pulled a face at him and shook his head.
“All I asked was if you’d manage!” he protested.
“Yeah, if I’d manage, like it’s the first time I’ve been in this place!” Jason laughed.
“Laugh it up Jay, but when all hell breaks loose here and you don’t have enough Grade One Saxophone copies to feed the general public’s appetite, you will look back on this moment and wish you’d listened to my concerns.” If Jason had actually remembered Gary saying that by the end of the week, he might have laughed dryly and regretted the roll of his eyes he had given at the time. Howard had simply pulled Jason closer to him and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“I have faith in you,” he mumbled playfully. If only Howard had meant that in a way that was actually important.
“But since Jay’s life could depend on it, you could always stop by for a bit of unpaid labour? Play your cards right and I reckon he might sneak you a few kisses in the back room, after all, there’ll be no Gaz to tell you to keep your hands to yourself...” Mark teased, getting a gentle cuff around his head from Gary for his troubles. Howard pretended to look thoughtful, his arm tightening slightly around Jason’s shoulders.
“Well when you put it like that...” he began, stopping as Jason dug his elbow into his ribs.
“Er, what makes you think I’m that easy?!” he demanded, glancing up at Howard with defiant blue eyes that betrayed a lot more than he wanted them to. The pout on his lips was forced at best.
“Because, love, you are that easy,” Howard chuckled, capturing Jason’s lips in a kiss before he could think to duck away.
“That was not fair,” Jason smiled as he finally pulled back, looking up at his husband from the corner of his eye. Howard simply grinned.
“Yeah, you look like you really hated the whole experience,” Gary joked. Jason sighed and shook his head at Howard and Mark as they chuckled softly.
“Pushover – didn’t I say I was a pushover? You lot take me for granted, you know that?” he told them, eyes alight with affection.
“Face it Jay, you’re pre-programmed to love us,” Mark grinned back, his flippant words ringing more true than he realised.
Outside white clouds were shifting across the sky and the sunshine remained surprisingly resilient, not backing down to rain clouds as it had on so many days that summer. No shoppers walked down Oldham Street and Gary took the decision to turn the shop’s sign around to closed, abandoning the day for the sake of time spent quietly with his friends. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d wasted a day – wasting a day wasn’t in Gary’s nature, after all. He had never really embraced the idea that no day enjoyed was a day wasted, though he understood the principal and wanted more than anything to be able to live his life that way. He wasn’t really built for it though; the quiet life. Gary needed projects, needed to feel like he had achieved something in his days. He supposed, on reflection, he should have thought it more strange that he was so ready to surrender to the laziness of that burst of Mancunian sun, that light that filled up that whole day and disappeared that night. But surrender he did. And enjoy himself he did.
“I guess you two will be off soon,” Mark sighed an hour later, his fingers playing with a thread on his shirt as he stifled a yawn.
“Why?” Jason frowned, lifting his head briefly from the banister to glance up at Mark.
“Oh...I presumed your presence was required at Orange HQ...I mean, it’s ages since you took Sunday off for lunch with your family isn’t it?” Jason pulled a face in response to Mark’s question, dropping his head back down to lean against the banister. Howard shifted awkwardly, looking down at his hands and chewing on his lip.
“No. I uh...opted out this time,” Jason murmured, closing his eyes briefly.
“Opted out? Since when did you turn down Sunday lunch at your mum’s?” Gary asked.
“At my mum’s? Never. But mum’s away with a friend this weekend. I was supposed to show my face at dad’s but...” Jason trailed off, waving his hand vaguely and not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“But they didn’t want me there,” Howard offered and Jason opened his eyes, looking over to Howard with a strangely hurt expression.
“What?!” Mark was incredulous but Jason could only flash him a sad smile.
“Technically not true, Howard was invited,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, like I was invited last time,” Howard shot back somewhat sulkily. Things had been strained between Howard and Jason’s family for a long time now, through no real fault of Howard’s – the damage had probably been done long before he even knew Jason, routed in the brothers’ childhood and inextricably linked to their parents’ divorce and all the things that had come of it. But the damage was there, nonetheless. Barely visible, but Jason bore it like a physical weight at times, desperately trying to do what he had always done; hold the people he cared about together. His mother was different; she’d had her misgivings over Germany, over the distance and time that had been put between her and her son as a result of his relationship with Howard. But Jason’s word was all she needed to be sure of his happiness, she only had to look at Jason’s smile – restored to its full brightness for the first time in a long time – to accept how much Howard meant to him. Safe in that knowledge, Jenny Orange had come to treat Howard as though he was simply another one of her wayward boys, there to be loved and scolded and always to feel at home in her presence. But for Jason’s father things were never so simple. And, somehow, along the way, Jason’s brothers had begun to doubt Howard too. Somewhere in the dim haze of the shop all this was acknowledged and Mark and Gary were forgotten, invisible almost. All Jason saw was Howard, and yet Howard couldn’t meet his eyes.
“How, you know if you asked me to choose, I’d choose you.”
“I’d never ask you to choose, Jay.”
“I know. And that’s why I’d choose you.” Jason held his breath, waiting for Howard to look up, meet his gaze. But he didn’t. Jason swallowed, cupping Howard’s cheek in his hand and pressing a brief kiss to his temple, but Howard’s only response was to close his eyes. Somewhere in the silence he could have sworn he heard a whisper. And something starts, all over again.
Chapter Two: Monday
It could’ve all ended differently, Howard supposed. One different decision on Monday and the rest of the week might have twisted itself into another shape entirely. Although there was a certain inevitability about it – like a script, its writers in total control no matter how he chose to act his scenes, the story always edging out of his grasp. Cut to the man standing on the pavement, helpless. No, useless. Pause for a close-up shot of glass and rain. But it was Monday that did it. Monday, where everything begins, in Manchester just like any other city. But maybe that Monday the coffee had gone to his head, because he neglected to take stock of just what he was standing at the start of. Instead he smiled and fixed his eyes on his husband, who sat on the kitchen worktop, drinking tea and humming quietly under his breath. The radio muttered about the grey skies outside, dropping hints about scattered showers, but inside the apartment it was warm and Jason’s eyes were bright and playful.
“What happened to proving Gaz wrong?” Howard was demanding through a laugh and Jason shrugged, a small smile on his lips.
“Come on, How, you adore me, just grant me this wish and I promise you will be rewarded!”
“Did you write that into our wedding vows somewhere?”
“If I say yes will you cover the shop for me without any more whining?”
“Jay...”
“Oh come on, love, I just need the day, tomorrow it’s all me I swear,” Jason sighed, the playful expression fading into something more desperate.
“This is important to you isn’t it?” Howard looked up and met Jason’s eyes. He didn’t really need to ask, he already knew. He knew because he had watched Jason lying beside him – so still and yet so very awake – for at least three hours last night. He knew because he saw the look in Jason’s eyes when the phone had rung. He knew because he always knew, when it came to Jason.
“How?” Jason’s voice was soft and Howard smiled at him fondly.
“I meant what I said; I’ll never make you choose, Jay. Just...talk some sense into him, please? I want you to...I want you to be happy, you know that, right?”
“I know. And if I can just talk to dad then...”
“You’ve talked to him before though, Jay.”
“He’s not come to me before though, I’ve always gone to him. I think...I don’t know what I think. Maybe he’s seen sense at last. He just wants to make up for lost time, you know? Me and him...we lost a lot of time. Really, truly, you know me better than he does, How. You’ve had more of my time and you know me better. So much better than he ever has...” Jason trailed off, staring down into his tea, his eyes faraway. Howard couldn’t quite be sure of the emotion there; it was neither sadness nor regret, it was something different, something that perhaps even Jason didn’t fully understand.
“And I know the consequences of his actions more than he does too, Jay. He hurt you, and that’s always going to be hanging in the air between him and me. I mean...I don’t let people hurt you, Jay. And yet he thinks I’m a bad influence? I can’t...after everything he’s done, that’s just...”
“Messed up. I know. Welcome to the Orange Family.” Jason let out a long breath and forced a smile, glancing back up at Howard.
“Jay...” Howard began but Jason waved a hand to silence him, jumping down from the counter.
“Don’t worry about it. Come on, you need to get going or you won’t catch Gaz before he leaves.” Jason leant across the breakfast bar, gently prising the coffee mug away from Howard before taking his hands in his own and squeezing them tightly.
“He’s going to say ‘I told you so’, you do know that, don’t you?” Howard smiled softly, reluctantly giving in to Jason’s unspoken plea to change the subject. Why it is the word ‘later’ comes so easily to the two of them, Howard has always questioned. Jason’s eyes glittered, suddenly lively.
“Yeah well, he’s wrong, I thrive at coping on my own, you lot are all just lucky that I choose to live my life amongst you,” he murmured, closing the gap between his and Howard’s faces and capturing Howard’s lips with his own. It was Howard who deepened the kiss, tightening his grip on Jason’s hands and stroking his fingertips lightly against Jason’s wedding ring. Hold on while you can, Donald – he always felt the need to remind himself.
“I love you,” Howard whispered and Jason smiled.
“Yeah you do.”
“Jay,” Howard pleaded and Jason’s expression softened.
“I love you too,” he said honestly, giving Howard a reassuring kiss on his cheek.
When Howard finally made it out of the apartment, he was surprised by the coolness of the air – even for a Mancunian summer it was breezy and grey. He shivered slightly as he made it down Oldham Street and he pulled the sleeves of his thin hoody down over his hands, quickening his pace. He almost made Gary stumble with the speed at which he barrelled into the shop.
“Does this city ever stay warm for more than one day at a time?” Howard asked, dispensing with normal greetings as he rubbed his arms vigorously in an attempt to get warm. Gary took a moment to recover himself, but he smiled pleasantly nonetheless, eventually shaking his head.
“Good morning, Gaz, how are you today? Oh I’m fine thank you, Dougie, thank you so much for asking, what brings you here today?” he retorted and Howard chuckled, ignoring Gary’s sarcasm and choosing to answer his last question instead.
“Jay wants you to know this isn’t him backing out, this is just...family stuff. I’m filling in for a day whilst he meets up with his dad. So anyway, you planning on telling me what this mystery trip of yours is all about? Or is that information top secret?” Howard asked, coming further into the shop and sitting himself down on the stairs. Gary was standing in the middle of the shop-floor holding a small cardboard box filled with CDs and papers, on top of which was balanced some parcel tape and a pair of scissors.
“I was hoping your next question was going to be ‘need a hand?’ – didn’t that husband of yours teach you manners?” Gary smiled and Howard shrugged, leaning back slightly and watching Gary struggle to put the items down.
“He told me something about not putting my feet on the coffee table...I think he gave up after that.”
“You’ve ruined that man,” Gary chuckled.
“Mm, I can find you some members of his family who’d agree with you. So...Jay says this trip of yours is something to do with Robbie? He told me you were asking if he preferred us as a four or a five. For the record, Gaz, I prefer four. I know you know it, and that I’ve said it before but...I’ve nothing against Rob, you know? I won’t stand in your way I just...”
“I know, you hate the uncertainty he brings into everything,” Gary smiled at Howard fondly, coming over to join him on the stairs.
“That’s part of it. But anyway, you’re changing the subject,” Howard countered.
“I’m sorry, Howard, I just...I’ve enjoyed it, you know? Having Rob’s ideas around, it’s kind of...reinvigorated me. And Marko just loves having Rob in his life again. If there’s anything I can do to keep the connection alive for him...” Gary trailed off and Howard nodded in reluctant understanding.
“I know; you have to do it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I understand. So, what, you’re going to Stoke to ask him to join us more officially or something?” Howard queried, looking up at Gary, eyebrows raised.
“Not exactly...it’s...I need to sort some things out. And see how the land lies. Things between him and me are...awkward. I’m pretty sure my husband is the love of his life so...” Gary trailed off, a wry smiled playing on his lips that made Howard laugh.
“If someone looked at Jay the way he looks at Mark, I might actually go insane.”
“Actually, I know it’s stupid but...I don’t really mind that so much. I know maybe I should but...I just feel sorry for him. Imagine if one day, Jay just stopped loving you the way he does now. And you knew there was nothing you could do to get that love back, but you still loved him just the same as always,” Gary sighed and Howard winced. He couldn’t help it, the reaction was instinctive.
“Ok, you’ve made your point. You know, at least with Grace I’ve got that guarantee that she shares my DNA, she’s stuck with me. But with Jay...” Howard shook his head and looked away.
“Oh come off it, Howard. Blood might be thicker than water, but water keeps us alive,” Gary said gently, nudging Howard’s shoulder with his own.
“Blood’s kind of important too you know,” Howard pointed out quietly and Gary rolled his eyes.
“Do you mind? I was being profound! Look, what I’m trying to say is, I don’t think you should really be scared about Jay. Jay...he just doesn’t do loving people the way he loves you unless he really means it. He’s too cautious. If it wasn’t something he needed he wouldn’t have done it at all, you know? I was just giving you an example, that’s all.”
“Yeah. I know. Still, it’s not something I can think about. I’ve got a protective streak, y’ know? And after everything we’ve been through together...”
“Ah, that’s the point though, you’ve been through it together. And you’re still together now. But, just so we’re clear though, this worrying you’re doing...it’s because of this thing with his family, isn’t it?” Gary asked and Howard nodded, a jaded smile twisting at his lips.
“His dad called him this morning, wants to talk to him. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I just know that if his brothers and his dad pull much harder, Jay’s arm might just drop off. This is killing him, he’s told me as much. I don’t know what he’d do if they forced him to choose.”
“He’d choose you – he’s said that often enough.”
“I know he would. But that’s what worries me. He’d choose me and I think...I think having to just cut them out of his life like that might kill him. I don’t ever want to put him in that position. I will do anything to protect him, Gaz, anything. I mean it. If he told me to leave tomorrow...”
“Howard, don’t be daft. Cutting you out of his life would kill him. Come on, have a little faith.” Faith. Everyone kept using that word.
By the time Gary made it to the station the summer showers had descended and he found himself having to jostle past a gaggle of umbrellas at Manchester Piccadilly’s main entrance. He was running late – or rather, he was running on Howard Time, which everyone except Howard was aware was at least ten minutes behind the rest of the world. Soaked from his walk, Gary had to brush raindrops from his hair as he surveyed the station concourse, attempting to spot Mark amidst the crowds. He had wanted to drive to Stoke originally. It wasn’t too far, after all. But Mark had insisted; make a trip of it. Lugging his overnight bag with him, Gary made it across to the departure boards in order to get a better view of the crowds. He didn’t have to look hard; Mark was standing outside WH Smiths, a bag of skittles in his hand, rising up onto his tiptoes (as best as he could in his new boots) and looking around anxiously. Gary smiled a small, fond smile at his husband and shook his head slightly, quickly making his way over to him.
“Sorry! Sorry!” he called out, instantly attracting Mark’s attention as he dashed towards him. Instinctively, he reached out an arm and wrapped it around Mark’s waist, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek before dipping his other hand into the bag of Skittles and grabbing a handful.
“Hey! You’d better not have taken too many red ones!” Mark pouted in protest.
“Too late,” Gary chuckled through a mouthful and Mark tried his best to look aggrieved. He folded his arms and watched steadily as Gary chewed away at his sweets, before letting out a sigh of defeat.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he remarked after a moment.
“Sorry about that; I was with Howard,” Gary told him with a grin, as though that explained all. Mark simply nodded mutely and looked away, pulling the sleeves of his mauve jumper down over his hands and developing an interest in its loose threads.
“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind,” he mumbled. Gary had to strain to hear him over the noise of the station. He looked at Mark carefully for a moment before touching a gentle finger to his chin, tipping his face up so Mark’s gaze met his own.
“Hey, come on, I’m serious about this. You know I am. The past is the past and...as far as I’m concerned, he’s a good friend. And you know, Marko, he’s talented. So talented. He deserves to be heard. I really believe that. And if he needs time...time to process things or time to get himself in the right frame of might for all this...if he needs to think a while, I’ll wait for him. I promise.” Gary saw Mark’s eyes glimmer as he spoke and suddenly the station didn’t seem so busy to him. Mark rose up onto his tiptoes once more and pressed a kiss to Gary’s lips.
“Gary Barlow, you are the best human being I know,” he whispered. Gary held his eyes a moment, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small smile.
“Come on, we could still miss that train yet if we’re not careful.”
Once they arrived at their platform, they found they’d had no need to worry; a ten minute delay had just been announced on the departure screens. But Mark was too excited for slowness – something about train journeys hadn’t lost its magic for him when he’d grown up – and he all but dragged Gary onto the waiting train. Gary nodded to an empty table towards the middle of their coach and Mark made a beeline for it, flinging himself down into the seat closest the window and promptly starting to unload the contents of his bag onto the table. Gary chuckled slightly, putting the overnight bag up into the overhead compartment before calmly settling himself into the seat opposite Mark’s. He watched as Mark spread out across the table; magazines, headphones and a computer lead were tangled about in amidst a growing collection of sweet-treats, sandwiches and biscuits.
“And I wonder why I never manage to keep to any of my diets,” Gary chuckled, looking at the collection and shaking his head before picking out a bag of Cadbury’s Chocolate Eclairs and claiming it as his own. Mark pulled a face at him, but made no attempt to grab the bag back.
“You don’t fool me with your self-pity you know, you are thinner than I’ve ever known you. It’s starting to frighten me actually,” he smiled, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet Gary’s before he turned back to searching through his bags.
“Why have you got all this anyway? I think they have food in Stoke you know.”
“I know – I lived there remember! But you always need to pack food for a journey, it’s just the rule. I’m looking for my iPod...I hope I remembered to pack it. Hey, speaking of music though, did you post that stuff to Jonathan?” Mark looked up hopefully.
“Dropped it off on the way to the station,” Gary nodded, popping an eclair into his mouth and winking at Mark.
Back at the shop, Howard was going stir-crazy. The rain, though light, was tapping on the front window, a sound that had a habit of giving him a headache. No customer was going to brave this weather for the sake of buying themselves some old records, of that he was sure. Although it wasn’t the lack of customers that was getting to him. It was Jason. Howard couldn’t lie – not to himself, and certainly not to Jason – he didn’t like not being with his husband today. He wanted to be able to be there when Jason’s dad came round, he wanted not so much to fight his own corner, but to fight Jason’s. After all, as well-meaning as Tony Orange might be, he didn’t have the best track-record with his second-born. And where was his thought for Jason’s feelings back when they really had been hurt? It was easy to be there for him now, now he was a grown man who’d made his choices in life and could, for the most part, take care of himself. But what about when Jason was younger? Howard let out a long sigh and shook his head, only half-aware that his glowering was making Cadbury nervous. The dog watched him uncertainly from the corner of the piano room, silently wishing Dawn would hurry up and collect him. Howard’s phone beeped, breaking the tension, and for a moment Howard thought it was Jason and he leapt towards it in the hope of seeing a message saying all was well and he’d be round to take over duties at the shop in ten minutes. But no. It was Grace – someone else he’d been longing to hear from for a while. A three week chunk of Grace’s summer holidays was being spent with her mother and, for one of those weeks, her mother’s new boyfriend too. A slightly bumbling man by the name of Blake who, Grace had informed Howard (via Jason), was acceptable, despite the fact he taught maths at some London secondary school. Grace despised maths. But Howard could see why Blake had still managed to win his daughter over. After all, he couldn’t deny that Blake was hard to dislike; he was one of those smiley types who was impossibly calm and knew how to tell a good story. Blake, Vicky and Grace had left the week before, heading down south somewhere to some B&B by the sea that Howard had long ago forgotten the name of, and they weren’t due back until sometime on Wednesday, though Grace had yet to bother letting her father know how things were going. Howard remembered, with a slightly sad chuckle, making her promise once, back when she was four, to never grow up. At the time she had nodded obediently, smiling up at him broadly and saying ‘Yes daddy’ before hugging him, then promptly begging him to buy her an ice-cream. It was a promise, he suspected, she had never looked back upon. Shortly after he’d started dating Jason he’d told him about it and Jason had laughed at him, gently, fondly, and told him he didn’t stand a chance. Howard should be used to his husband being right by now, he supposed.
“It’s only coz he loves me that I’ve not had an ‘I told you so’ for that yet,” Howard informed Cadbury as he read through his daughter’s brief text. The dog simply huffed and rested his head on his paws.
Just as Howard was sending his reply to Grace, the shop’s bell caught his attention and he looked up in time to see Dawn cross the shop floor, stepping down into the piano room as though she owned the place, a bright smile gracing her pink lips. Dawn’s blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and her summery jeans and t-shirt were smattered with raindrops, though she looked as sunny as she ever did despite it.
“Hello Trouble,” Dawn beamed at him, dodging past the baby-grand so she could give Howard a hug. He gladly accepted the gesture, squeezing her fondly.
“Nice to see you again, Dawn,” he grinned over her shoulder. Dawn pulled back and grimaced theatrically.
“Nice to see me awake you mean! I am so sorry about that.” Dawn couldn’t help laughing slightly as she blushed and Howard waved her off.
“We both know I led you astray,” he assured her. Dawn was mischievous, in her own ways, but Howard had a habit of bringing out the devil in her. Gary often remarked that he regretted introducing them; he’d always loved how grounded Dawn was and he was frequently thrown by the light-headedness Howard induced in her.
“I’m pretty sure that, since it was Jay’s birthday, he was the only one who had the right to end up out-for-the-count on other people’s sofas,” Dawn smiled, putting her hands up to her face in an attempt to hide her amusement at the memory.
“Please, like Jay would ever drink enough for that. Too sensible. Swearing at strangers, maybe, but never sofa-crashing,” Howard wrinkled his nose playfully and Dawn shook her head at him, giving him a teasing slap on the arm.
“Anyway, you’re not the reason I came here! Where is the useless lump who is so requiring of my attention?” she asked, glancing around.
“That’s no way to talk about Gaz,” Howard joked, earning himself another smack on the arm before Dawn made her way over to give Cadbury a scratch behind the ears. Cadbury adored Dawn – she was the only person he would behave well for when Mark and Gary needed a dog-sitter.
“Howard Donald you’re incorrigible, I don’t know how Jay puts up with you, I really don’t,” Dawn shot back over her shoulder at Howard as she continued to lavish attention on the Labrador in front of her. But Howard wasn’t listening, he’d already been distracted.
“Dawn...” he began. Dawn’s senses were instantly on alert and she stood up sharply, turning her back to Cadbury and narrowing her eyes at Howard.
“Oh no you don’t! Howard, I’m already taking the dog, no more favours for the Barlow’s crew...” she was protesting, but Howard looked back at her pleadingly.
“Please, Dawn, it’s just this afternoon...”
“Howard,” Dawn groaned.
“You’re not doing anything today, are you?”
“This new dance school I’ve starting teaching at doesn’t have many weekday classes, these days I’m mostly free except for weekends. But that doesn’t mean I have any intentions to help keep shop while Gary’s away, just coz you want to go home and suck face with your husband, or whatever it is you two crazy kids do when the rest of us aren’t looking,” Dawn’s eyes were bright and sparkly in the dim shop and Howard couldn’t help laughing. The woman garnered affection with ease, but he refused to be charmed into submission.
“It’s not a social call, I promise...Dawn, there’s some serious stuff going on right now with Jay’s family and I just...I really want to make sure he’s alright, you know?”
“Isn’t that why phones were invented, How?” Dawn sighed, but he could tell he was breaking her down. It was strange really, he thought; Dawn was a very determined woman, she could get her own way if she wanted, but she, just like so many others before her, seemed to be easily drawn back into the strange little music shop with the fading red sign.
“Please? It’s just one afternoon...” Howard looked at her hopefully and she rolled her eyes.
“Why do you do this to me?” she asked and he grinned back at her without shame.
“I’m very persuasive, just ask Jay,” he grinned and Dawn wrinkled her nose jokingly.
“Yeah, I so don’t need that information. Just make sure you don’t ask me for any more favours, ok?”
“Thank you Dawn, you’re a star! The spare key’s hanging on the mug tree, help yourself to tea...or yoghurt...and...if there are any problems just...”
“Tell ‘em the manager will be back in a few days, I know the drill. Go on, I know you’re dying to get out of here! Go, mush, mush!” Dawn sighed, all but pushing Howard out of the door.
Gary, meanwhile, had already long forgotten his little shop. He was caught in a daydream – something that, in the coming days, he wouldn’t allow himself to do easily. He watched the scenery shifting outside the train window but he didn’t register any of it, his eyes focused on a point somewhere just above the trees and buildings. It wasn’t so much that he was looking at the sky, more that he wasn’t looking at anything at all. Though, somehow, he felt like he was looking at everything, every detail both clear and ambiguous to him at the same time. He glanced across the table at Mark, who was resting his chin on his hand, his eyes cast down at his iPod. Silently Gary reached out a hand, taking Mark’s free hand in his own and giving it a squeeze. Mark met his eyes immediately and smiled a half-smile that, though it reached his eyes, didn’t have the surety that Mark’s smiles so often had.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Gary offered. Mark let out a small sigh, shaking his head and glancing out of the window.
“I dunno, Gaz. I guess I’m just...thinking about...stuff. About these last few years...” Mark’s voice wavered slightly and Gary gave his hand another squeeze.
“A lot’s happened,” Gary said softly, his blue eyes clouding briefly because he knew those words didn’t even begin to convey just how significant those few years had been. It didn’t surprise him, as he thought about it, that he couldn’t remember the last time a year had ended with him able to sit back and declare it ‘normal’. Whatever normal may be, of course. What was normal for them anymore? After everything they’d been through, the four of them. Not all of it was bad; Howard and Jason had got married, he and Mark had married too. They’d had their fair share of break-ups and make-ups but they had all stayed together, kept alive a friendship that was important to them all. Gary had begun confiding in Howard, Jason had relaxed a little more into his own skin, Mark had finally stopped pretending that everything in the world tasted of strawberry ice-cream. But it had been tough to get that far. It had been hard work. Gary was of the opinion it had been worth it, but he could see how the struggle might look to an outsider. Wasn’t happiness supposed to let you rest more easily amidst its glow? Happiness never let them rest easy, or it didn’t seem to anyway.
“It’s...it’s been awful sometimes, you know?” Mark admitted quietly, a sad smile playing on his lips. Ghosts filled the quiet carriage then. Not people, but moments. Standing outside in the rain waiting for a memorial service for their friend. But Jason hadn’t died, Gary had to remind himself a little too forcefully. Sitting down in the shop, Mark’s wedding ring in his hand and Mark – and even Jason and Howard – long gone. But they came back. Mark came back. Gary found that easier to remember.
“I’ve a mate, I don’t think you’ve met him, but he plays guitar, works in a music therapy unit somewhere in London. When he was learning to play, he used to sit there ‘til his fingers bled, just so he could be able to play a few tunes. He’s pretty good now. And his playing...he uses it to help sick kids. It’s pretty amazing actually...” Gary murmured and slowly Mark met his eyes, a brighter smile forming on his lips.
“Beauty from pain,” he whispered in understanding and Gary nodded.
“Something like that.”
“It’s a nice thought but...sometimes, when I think about everything we’ve been though – me and you, How and Jay...Rob...”
“You worry it’s been a lot of pain and not enough beauty?” Gary questioned, his brow furrowing. Mark laughed softly, shaking his head.
“No. No, Gaz, it’s...from where I’m sitting it’s been a pretty fucking long journey but...worth it.”
“So...?”
“So...sometimes I just...I realize where we are in life and everything it’s taken to get this far and I just wonder how much more we could take. I mean...don’t you ever look around you, Gaz, and...and you know you have to press on but it’s so scary because...”
“Every time you’ve pressed on in the past, it’s hurt like hell?” Gary smiled ruefully. Mark nodded.
“Don’t you ever look around you and wonder; what the fuck to we do now?” he asked. Gary simply shrugged.
“Yeah. I do.”
“And?” Mark’s eyes were bright, alert. Gary met his gaze and smiled a determined smile. He leant across the table and pressed a kiss to Mark’s forehead, cupping his face in his hand. Remember this moment, Gary Barlow. Remember your words.
“And, Marko, I think it’s called being alive.”
In Manchester, Howard was already outside his apartment, fishing around in his pockets for his keys. As he moved to scrabble around in his bag, the sound of a raised voice caught his ear and he stilled immediately, his senses alert. That was Jason’s voice. And Jason rarely raised his voice.
“And what do you suggest, dad? That I leave him? God.”
“Jason, son, listen to me, I’m not telling you what to do with your life, I’m just...”
“You’re just what? Offering me some parental advice? You’re so full of it! You don’t even know who I am, dad, you certainly don’t know me well enough to say I’m turning into someone else because of him,” Jason’s voice was slightly softer then and Howard felt a physical twinge run through his body, like something inside him had just splintered. Jason sounded as though he was about to cry.
“You were the one that chose for it to be that way, Jason, you didn’t want to know me.”
“Because, if you remember, you didn’t want to know me once either! How long did it take you to glance back over your shoulder at your family? Mum was there for us. I was there for my brothers. Howard has been there for me. You...you’re just some bloke who disappeared one day and came back home too late.”
“Jason...”
“Jason, what? Go on, tell me I’m wrong.”
“Look, I’m sorry for the mistakes I made with you and your brothers, you know I am. But I...I thought we’d moved on, that we’d worked past this. I’m just concerned for you, don’t I have the right to be concerned for you? Despite everything, I am still your father.”
“Barely,” Jason snapped and, under different circumstances, Howard would’ve smiled. His husband had a bite – sure, he might want to cry, he might want to just curl up under his duvet and pretend the day wasn’t happening, but he would never back down just because it was easy. He was feisty, when he wanted to be. Howard was to find, in time, that unpredictable streak was disarmingly attractive, when turned in the right direction. But in that moment, Howard could only wince. This fight was doing no one any good.
“And your brothers, do you think they know you? Because they’re worried too.”
“Sure they’re worried, I’m not at their beck and call anymore, that’s what’s upsetting them, nothing Howard’s done.”
“Justin says...”
“Screw Justin. He used to know better, but now...god, mum’s the only one...”
“She had her concerns once,” Tony Orange sounded, even to himself, like he was clutching at straws. But stubbornness ran through the Orange family.
“Yeah. She did. When I was in Germany, when things were different. But that wasn’t Howard’s fault. I wanted to go because I wanted him to be able to do something for himself for a change, instead of me always dragging him along. He’s not trying to control me, dad. And he’s not the reason I didn’t show for lunch yesterday. I make my own decisions.”
“You used to.” Howard clenched his jaw at that; he knew Jason better than this man, he knew that if Jason didn’t make a decision, it was because he’d decided not to make it. Howard had come to accept that quite early on in their relationship. He understood; it all went right back to when Jason’s parents had divorced, was all part of the way he had coped. Having something he so badly wanted to control but never could had made him decide that taking control of everything else was essential. With Howard, he could let his guard slip, at least a little. But with family? No. They were too close to the original disaster. Howard shook his head slightly, finally pulling out his key and slipping it into the lock, opening the door as quietly as possible. Neither Jason nor his father noticed, too wrapped up in their fighting to hear the door click closed. The two men were stood opposite each other, either side of the breakfast bar. Jason’s arms were wrapped around himself; Howard knew him well enough to realise it was a defence mechanism, a quite literal attempt to keep the emotions inside. To hold himself together.
“Had it occurred to you that it’s you I’m not relaxed with? Had it occurred to you that Howard is the only person who knows...the only person who knows what I am and why?”
“I don’t know what you...” his father began but Jason shook his head and closed his eyes.
“You made me who I am, dad. You made me into this.”
“Jason...”
“Don’t ‘Jason’ me!” Jason was shouting again now and Howard could see he was on the verge of collapse. Later he regretted intervening, though, no matter how events turned out, he was still sure it had been right to speak up. Sure, maybe Actual Hell was unleashed in that moment. But he had kept Jason safe, for a little while longer at least.
“Please, son...” Tony Orange was endeavouring to break through the walls that Jason was attempting to rebuild around himself and it was a battle that could have raged all day if Howard hadn’t stepped forward, his blue eyes steely.
“I think you’d better leave, Tony” he interrupted. Both Jason and his father snapped their heads round, looking over at him in surprise. He could see them both trying to assess just how much he’d heard. But Howard didn’t waver, his gaze remaining trained on Tony Orange, his lips an emotionless line.
“Howard...” Tony finally mustered uncomfortably.
“I said: leave.”
“Excuse me, but this is my son’s apartment!” Howard hardly reacted to the protest.
“True. Now leave.”
“You can’t just...”
“Actually, I can.”
“But my son...”
“This is your son’s apartment, and your son is my husband.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to tell him who he can and can’t see.”
“No, it doesn’t. It gives me the right to protect him though. And right now no one is doing more harm to him than you are. No one is allowed to upset my husband, Tony, ok? I promised him that much and I fully intend to come through for him. No one can hurt Jay and expect me to leave them be, especially not here. You destroyed one home of his once, don’t you dare try and destroy another now.” Howard tried to be calm, but it was an effort not to raise his voice. Tony looked over to his son.
“Jason?”
“Go, dad. Please.” Jason swallowed hard, looking away, and his father glanced from him to Howard and back again before reluctantly stepping around Howard and heading out of the door. Howard hardly noticed him leave; he was at Jason’s side in less than a second, crushing the slighter man against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. Jason shook against Howard’s studier build, tears for a hundred different indistinct things silently slipping down his cheeks. Howard kissed the top of his head and cradled him close, whispering nonsensical things that were strangely comforting to the both of them. He thought it was just going to be one rough day, he never planned on writing off at least a week. But then, they never did plan it that way.
Perhaps ten minutes passed, perhaps half an hour. Neither of them cared. They’d stand there a week if they wanted to – lord knows both men were stubborn enough. Howard eventually silenced his whisperings of comfort, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of Jason’s neck by way of a full-stop. Jason shifted his head a little and looked up. His eyes were sore – pinkish and glassy – but he managed a small smile.
“You’re skiving,” he remarked in a quiet voice. Howard couldn’t help letting out a small chuckle.
“You’re changing the subject,” he countered and Jason’s eyes briefly lit up. This was their game; the back-and-forth, kiss-then-tell game. Neither one of them ever named it, or even acknowledged it out loud. But every time disaster struck, there it was again.
“Are you going to let me change it?” Jason asked, leaning back in Howard’s arms, his spine curving elegantly as he tipped his head a little further, meeting Howard’s gaze. Howard stroked a thumb along Jason’s cheek and Jason’s eyes fluttered closed in response – Howard knew how to get so many subtle reactions from this man. Kiss his temple for his head to tilt. For a sigh, kiss the corner of his eye. Kiss his the corner of his mouth for him to briefly smile. A kiss to the cheek to draw him closer. Jason stilled in the embrace as Howard followed the familiar pattern. One final kiss to the crook of Jason’s neck and Jason tucked himself neatly against Howard’s chest.
“You know I can’t just pretend I heard nothing, don’t you?” Howard asked him, resting his chin on Jason’s head.
“Well if you will creep up on people...”
“Jay.”
“How long were you there?”
“Long enough,” Howard told him, pulling back once more in an attempt to regain eye contact. Jason obliged, offering him a weak little smile in return before looking back down and playing with the cords on Howard’s hoody.
“I’m guessing you bullied Dawn into covering you at the shop?” he questioned softly. Howard sighed.
“I prefer the term ‘persuaded’ actually,” he replied with a half-smile. Jason nodded.
“So...you don’t need to be anywhere?” he pressed and Howard almost laughed. He wanted to say ‘Like I’d leave you like this’, but he didn’t want to make Jason feel too exposed too quickly so he simply trimmed it down to the more universal truth.
“Like I’d leave you.” Jason’s lips quirked at that but he didn’t look up. Howard placed a finger to his chin and tilted his head up by force.
“You want something?” Jason asked, suddenly sparkling again. There was intent in Howard’s touch.
“Just the usual,” Howard told him, tilting his own head enough to pull Jason easily into a kiss, his other arm tightening around Jason’s waist. He couldn’t help it; the need to protect, to preserve. In that moment Jason was happy. His arm couldn’t really hold that happiness in or keep reality at bay, but he needed at least to try. For Jason’s sake he needed to try.
“You win,” Jason whispered before their mouths were even fully parted. Their faces were so close that Howard could feel Jason’s breath against his lips and he wavered.
“Let’s call it a draw. But we do have to talk about it, you know that, right?” he murmured back and Jason’s eyes shone with red-rimmed gratitude.
“I know. But later. For now, can we please just move this over to the sofa?” he smiled.
It was midnight before ‘later’ came. The light that came in through the bedroom window made Jason’s eyes look almost grey, and Howard watched them glimmer in the semi-darkness. He lay on his front, one arm resting lightly across Jason’s stomach, and he could tell from Jason’s expression that the words were coming. But something in his gut told him a whole lot more was coming too. Slowly he pushed himself closer, tugging at the sheets and bringing them up over the two of them. Another pause and Jason took in a breath.
“I have forgiven him, you know. For...for the past.” Jason didn’t have to elaborate. Howard knew everything. Over the years there’d been only one person to get the full story out of Jason and that person was Howard. Most people who knew Jason well enough knew the timeline of events, those closer knew a little of how Jason had coped with it. But Howard was the only one who understood. He knew the timeline, he knew the details of important events, he knew how Jason had coped. And, more importantly, he knew how it had made Jason feel. He knew how it has shaped the man lying next to him. Jason didn’t like to admit the impact, but he was self-aware enough to know it was there. Still he only trusted Howard with the information, leaving others just to guess.
“I know,” Howard replied after a moment, wishing he could say more. Jason heard all the things Howard wanted to say and he didn’t need him to say them. They were there is those two words. He did know. He knew everything. The sheets were over both their heads now.
“I can’t help that everything still comes back to it though, you know? I’ve forgiven him but...he changed me. He didn’t mean to but he did.”
“You should tell him that.”
“I tried, it made no difference, Howard, he can’t see...he can’t see how it was for me.”
“He probably just thinks it’s normal. Fathers shape their sons, he probably doesn’t know that...that leaving the way he did totally eclipsed all the other stuff. You need to explain for him, Jay. For all of them. If they understood...”
“No. How...I don’t like thinking about it, I don’t like talking about it, I don’t...I hate that it’s true. I don’t want to be the way I am sometimes but...”
“Jay, don’t. Please, for me, don’t say that. I adore you, this you,” Howard lifted his head a little off the pillow and Jason shifted himself slightly, meeting Howard’s eyes.
“Shit happens to make us better people, I guess. But sometimes I wonder...what if...”
“But if it happened, and it was awful, but some good came out of it, then maybe you should start talking about it, Jay. Open up to him, to all your family, just a little bit more.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Jason looked away at that.
“When dad left, Simon shut down. Mum tried but she couldn’t do everything, there were too many of us. Justin wasn’t...I was usually the responsible twin, let’s just put it that way...”
“I know all this.”
“Then you should know that I didn’t have a choice, I was elected the Honorary Eldest. I had to be strong for them. And they liked it that way. It stayed that way for so long...”
“Until me.”
“Until you,” Jason echoed dully. The two men fell silent a moment, but both were aware that their muscles were still tensed, as if in anticipation. There were things neither one of them would let go of, zipping about past their ears in the otherwise quiet room.
“You should tell them, Jay. Put us all on better terms. Explain to them what you sacrificed.”
“They’re my brothers, Howard!”
“They’re grown men, Jason! It’s time you told them ‘Screw it, I’m your big brother but I’m human too’. For my sake can’t you at least fucking do that?!” Howard snapped. Jason turned his head to meet Howard’s eyes. They were really glittering now – unshed tears and anger mingling.
“Don’t you do that to me. Don’t pretend like I don’t love you enough. Don’t act like I haven’t gone against my nature so much for your sake, Howard Donald.”
“Oh I know, Jay. Believe me, I know. You’d choose me. But had it occurred to you, at all, that this shouldn’t be a choice? Your family ought to know you too, Jay. Maybe it’s not the same, maybe it’ll never be the same, but they still ought to know you better than you let them know you. It’s not like it’d make them stop loving you. After all, I know you, I still love you somehow.”
“Somehow?!” Jason’s tone was clipped. If Howard had been listening better, he would’ve heard the hurt there. But he was too angry to be listening to the subtle shift in Jason’s voice.
“What are you so fucking scared of, Jay?” he muttered, before turning his back on Jason and closing his eyes, refusing to move a muscle for fear that Jason took it as a sign of the argument not being finished. Jason watched his back for a moment then closed his own eyes. If Howard had known how hard he was trying not to cry, he might have turned round. Give him twenty-four hours and he’ll wish he’d turned round anyway.
“What am I so scared of? Well, I guess I’m scared of having them turn their backs on me,” he whispered, before turning his own back to Howard. For the next few hours, the two men pretended to sleep.
Chapter Three: Tuesday, Morning
Stoke-on-Trent had sunshine. Slightly dim and slightly cheapened by the looming silhouette of the incinerator, but Gary wouldn’t criticise – there’s plenty of places with crappy scenery in the world, he just happened to think it was the people that made the place. And, no matter what the stereotypes might say, the people here seemed nice. It was early, too early for most, but Gary had an appreciation for this time of day. Mark was telling a story, something about how Stoke lost its industry, no doubt a passionately-told tale passed on by Robbie, whose affection for his city seemed contagious. Though, Gary had to confess, he wasn’t really listening. He could almost see it all for himself in the way the city was; run-down streets, boarded-up shops, but the people still nodded greetings to each other, like something from a by-gone era. It was as though the injustice of being shunned by the rest of the country, of having their industry, with its specialist skills and its social significance, die on them, and no one care, had bound them all together in some way. What was it Mark had said as the train neared Stoke Station? Treat Rob and his city the same way; there’s certain surface bruising, but, if you’re willing to look past it, you’ll be rewarded with honest-to-goodness friendship. Gary smiled to himself, nodding slightly at the thought. Although, looking around, he couldn’t help but think the surface-bruising was easy to look past in this particular part of town. He and Mark and were strolling along the canal, hands casually clasped, tame sunlight reflecting off the admittedly-murky water beside them. There were even a few flowers growing here and there, the odd brightly-painted canal-boat chugging by, a solitary bird twittering away somewhere in the distance. Manchester felt like a foreign country compared to this peaceful place. Gary did love his city, knew similar quiet-spots to stroll through there, but it was still different. Mark caught his eye and stopped talking, squinting his eyes against the sunlight.
“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” he sighed, stopping in his tracks and tugging Gary over to sit down on a bench. Gary chuckled, shrugging idly and taking in the scenery once more.
“Sure I am. Stoke-on-Trent, The Potteries. The South are disgusted by them, the North don’t want to be associated with them, the Midlands wish someone else would take them off their hands...and Robbie Williams and Mark Owen? They champion them,” he replied, turning back to look Mark in the eye. Mark smiled slightly shyly and shrugged.
“I liked it here, y’ know? I’d been in London too long maybe, but when I came here...everyone calling me ‘duck’, people in shops sharing a joke with me when I went to pay...people care about each other here. And when I asked Rob about it, he said it’s coz they have to care about each other here, since no one else really gives a damn.” Mark leant back slightly, looking back to the canal.
“If it helps, I get it. There’s little pockets of places like this all over England I think, places where the people still have time to look out for their neighbours. Stoke’s just had the misfortune to get some bad press,” Gary said softly. Mark looked back up at him then and, slowly, he shifted himself along the bench so he and Gary were squashed together in the centre. He cupped Gary’s face in his hand and pressed a single kiss to his lips.
“Thank you,” he murmured after a moment and Gary’s blue eyes twinkled.
“What for?”
“For always seeing things as they really are.”
“Well, you know me, I’m a straight-talker,” Gary grinned, nudging Mark with his shoulder and making him laugh.
“Yeah well, I have taken you to the fancy part of town. See up there, that’s the Britannia Stadium. The Premier League Effect, Rob calls it, the area right round the ground has kind of scrubbed itself up. I don’t know whether he means it got better coz of more money coming in, or whether he reckons everyone cleaned up their acts to try and impress the rich footballers, but either way, it’s quite nice. Then over that way, just beyond those fields, is Trentham. You know, like Trentham Gardens? Which are beautiful, by the way. Rob and me worked at a restaurant there, he’d sneak us in on break and we’d have a cheeky fag in the grounds. Anyway, Trentham is basically one of the shiniest parts of the city.”
“And Rob was born in...?”
“Not Trentham, that’s for sure. The rest of the city will tell you Rob was born in the crap part of town. But Rob’ll tell you it’s the best,” Mark grinned. Gary chuckled then glanced back over to where the Britannia was poking out through a gap in the trees. The reds and whites , painted logos and waving flags looked somewhat splendid in the early sun and, if Gary hadn’t know Robbie’s football preferences, he would’ve said it was quite a nice view for the younger man to wake up to every day.
“So Robbie Williams has reached the dizzy heights of Trentham, his house is over-looking the Premier League Effect...you think he’s ready to take another step up?” he asked. Mark rested his head on Gary’s shoulder, letting out a long sigh.
“He’s not about to leave Stoke behind if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You know that’s not what I’m asking, Marko.”
“I know. But...I can’t answer what you’re really asking me. That’s up to him,” Mark shrugged. Gary nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of Mark’s head.
“Well in that case, we should get going...” he began and Mark groaned.
“Can’t we stay here a little longer?” he grumbled, looking up at Gary with bright, hopeful eyes, his face so wide and innocent that it would’ve taken a core of steel to resist him. Gary was self-aware enough to know that, sometimes, his frankness pissed people off. If he was having a bad day, it read on his face. If he disliked someone, was uncomfortable, irate or too tired to deal with them, they would know about it; his top lip would curl, his eyes would turn an icier shade of blue and he couldn’t stand making eye-contact for fear of it just making him angrier. Mark, on the other hand, was a different story. Mark’s face was his gift. No matter how badly he behaved, how reprehensible his actions, no matter what he did wrong, people forgave him. Partly that was because of who he was; a likeable person if ever there was one, a well-meaning, if occasionally misguided, sort, determinedly positive and as good a friend as anyone could want. But a lot of people’s willingness to forgive him was in fact down to his face. That wide, smile-lined face with its round, sparkling eyes, hair falling down into them as he flashed hopeful smiles around. He drew affection to him. Cute-as-a button, in Gary’s mind, was a phrase invented for Mark Owen. He often tried to find some essence of Mark in other mildly-adorable people he met, but he was always left wanting.
“With you? I’d stay in a burning building,” Gary replied at last, wrapping an arm around Mark’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze. Mark settled against him, pulling his legs up onto the bench and letting out a contented sigh.
“I’ll remember you said that, Barlow,” he smiled.
In Manchester, the sun didn’t shine. When Howard woke up it was raining. Another grey Tuesday in another Mancunian summer. He closed his eyes again a moment, trying to will the rain away, but when he opened one eye back up, there it was, speckled across the glass of the bedroom window. He groaned and rolled over onto his back. His head ached and there was a nauseousness in the pit of his stomach, like a bad hangover, but somehow subtly different. Of course: The Argument. He rubbed a hand over his face and strained to try and hear any signs of life coming from the apartment. The bed beside him was empty but not yet made, and he was sure he could hear the television. What sounded like the breakfast news was buzzing in the distance, slightly muffled through the bedroom door.
He found Jason in the kitchen, sitting on the counter eating a bowl of cereal. His eyes didn’t leave the television as Howard made his way into the room and instead he continued to watch the screen – peering just over Howard’s head and across to the living room – even as his husband closed the distance between them, coming around the breakfast bar. It wasn’t until Howard was right in front of him, his hands placed either side of him on the counter, that he finally looked down. Howard’s hair was sleep-mussed and his eyes a little bleary, but the emotion there was unmistakeable, especially to someone who knew him as well as Jason did.
“I’m sorry,” Howard murmured softly. His voice was morning-husky and it occurred to Jason that it must be the first time he’d used it since their shouting match in bed the night before.
“I’m sorry too,” he whispered back. Howard didn’t smile, though his eyes gleamed their startling blue gleam at Jason. A distinct contrast to the greyness of the morning air. Slowly Howard leant his weight forwards onto his hands, his chin tilting up until his lips met Jason’s. Jason allowed himself to be pulled down into the kiss, only leaning back when his balance on the worktop became compromised. He and Howard stared at each other in silence for a moment and Howard cupped Jason’s cheek in his hand.
“You sure you’re ok to go to the shop today?” he asked him quietly, his voice so full of concern that Jason found himself very tempted to say ‘No’, just to see if Howard would let him stay home so they could hide out on the sofa together, kissing and watching TV. Just like yesterday. Later Howard would wish he had said ‘No’, later Howard would dream of their yesterday.
“I’m sure I’ll survive it. What’s the worst that could happen?” Jason’s laugh didn’t reach his eyes and Howard knew it, but there was little he could do in the face of Jason’s stubbornness.
“Well, I’ve got a meeting anyway. Some new club’s opening night is coming up, could be a regular gig if it goes well,” he sighed. Jason bent his head and kissed Howard’s forehead. Howard nodded in recognition of that silent gratitude, then pushed himself away from the worktop, going round to sit down at the breakfast bar instead.
“One day, love, God knows when, but one day, everything will just...be ok,” Jason sighed, his eyes cast downwards. After a moment he lifted his gaze and met Howard’s eyes, offering him a small smile.
“One day,” Howard agreed softly. He decided later that he didn’t believe that.
In Stoke, Gary’s mind was preoccupied with far less lofty thoughts as he struggled up the steep pathway that cut across the fields opposite the Britannia. After taking a dirt-track which split off from the canal path, Mark had led him past a large warehouse building and away to yet another poorly-paved track leading around vast expanses of fenced-off land and up into a greener part of town. There were ponies in one field and they watched Mark and Gary in puzzlement as the two men struggled up the steep slope. It was breezy up here and the sky somehow seemed bluer. Gary took a moment to pause, only slightly breathless, and look back at where they’d come from. The Britannia looked slightly more shimmery from this distance, more indistinct, reflecting somewhat brazenly back at him. Mark followed his eye-line with a grin and launched into some match-day anecdote or other. All Gary could think was how on earth any fans made it up this slope post-match.
“With a pie and a pint in ‘em?” he demanded of Mark, who simply laughed and shrugged.
“If it saves four quid on parking...” he smiled, holding open a gate for Gary and waving him through it enthusiastically.
“We’re not trespassing are we?” Gary asked in mild concern, looking around them nervously. The ponies were still watching, their dark eyes making Gary feel uncomfortable. Ponies seemed to dislike him, as a general rule, and the feeling was mutual.
“It’s a public footpath, it’s just the land either side that’s owned. Now come on, you’re the fitness freak in this relationship, do you think you could hurry it up a bit?”
“If we’re not trespassing, my dearest one, then why are you in such a rush?” Gary demanded, his tone laced with dry sarcasm that provoked a half-hearted glare from his husband.
“Because we’re not that far away now, through this gate here, up that track...turn right...” Mark had stopped and was looking up the track with a pensive expression. Gary put a hand to the small of his back and kissed his temple.
“Something wrong?” he asked gently.
“No...it’s just...it’s weird being back, you know? Last time I was here, on my days off I’d walk up and down here. Just grab my iPod and go.”
“Sounds like a nice walk.”
“It was, in a way. But it was hell too. All I could do was think about you...”
“Charming,” Gary laughed softly, bending his head to place another kiss to Mark’s skin, nuzzling into the crook of his neck with an affectionate smile.
“What I mean is...I thought it was over. And that it was my fault. You’re a better person than me, you know that?” Mark sighed. Gary squeezed his shoulders slightly.
“Everyone has done things they’re not proud of, Marko. I seem to remember it wasn’t so long ago that I was so blind-driven I was prepared to cut you and Jay and Howard loose, just like that, for the sake of what I wanted.”
“You’re still a better person. What I did was worse...and I’m not sure I should be forgiven just because people like my smile,” Mark frowned and Gary let out a long sigh.
“That’s not why I forgave you. I forgave you because I believed your apology. Because I know you never really meant for things to spiral out of control the way they did. Because I know that, in a way, it wasn’t you. You got buried under a layer of other things...but you got out. And if I have this place to thank for it in some way or another? Then I love this place. And you should too.” Gary kissed the back of Mark’s head and then made a move to step around him, glancing back and offering out his hand. Mark smiled at him thoughtfully then nodded, taking the offered hand gratefully.
At the top of the track Mark took the lead once more, edging ahead of Gary and slipping through an open gate out onto the pavement beyond. Gary glanced around at the houses; respectable sort of places, the kind of small-but-roomy houses that, in most cities, no part-time waiter would be able to afford. Mark led Gary along to the end of the row, nodding to a slightly-more rundown house than the others with a rueful smile. There was no car in this drive and Gary noted, with a chuckle, that it was the only house on the row with no window-sticker or flag emblazoned with the Stoke City logo. Mark, who was fishing in his bag for his spare key, read Gary’s expression and bit back a laugh.
“Yeah, this is a fairly Stoke City area in general. Most supporters of Stoke’s Other Team don’t live in this part of town, Burslem is their end. I mean, they’re spread about, but still...most of them can’t see the Britannia from their bedroom windows. Rob does enjoy a bit of controversy though. I think he lives for the drama, keeps him entertained...” he trailed off and shrugged lightly, though amusement still danced in his eyes.
“I suppose the neighbours just count their blessings that he’s not flying the rival flag more overtly,” Gary remarked. Mark paused, the key halfway to the door, a guilty expression marring his open face.
“Actually...”
“Oh tell me he doesn’t...” Gary grimaced and Mark smirked back at him.
“Every time they lose a match and Port Vale win,” he admitted, pushing open the door then quickly beckoning Gary inside after him. Gary raised an eyebrow.
“Should we really just...let ourselves in like this?” he questioned, taking a cautious step towards the door. Mark was bending to pick up some mail from the hall floor and he flashed a casual smile at Gary over his shoulder.
“Rob said we could. Besides, there’s a good chance he won’t even be...oh...” Mark stopped, a frown suddenly creasing his features.
“What is it?” Gary was quick to come up behind Mark then, putting a protective hand to the small of his back and trying to peer over his shoulder into the dim hallway beyond.
“Nothing it’s just...the phone and those keys...” Mark gestured to where a dish of keys lay upturned beside a broken house-phone. Both were on the floor, by the small table which they usually sat on, and Mark felt something twisting in the pit of his stomach. It was as if someone had brushed the table clear in anger. He bit his lip.
“Come on, let’s find Rob,” he whispered, gripping Gary’s hand tightly in his own as he headed for the living room door, which was standing slightly ajar, the sound of the television drifting out.
Mark pushed the door open tentatively, poking his head into the room before he’d let Gary come in. Gary, meanwhile, was far from oblivious to the shade of grey Mark’s skin turned as he took in the room before him. Besides, he was surprised they hadn’t been able to smell the alcohol from the street. Mark was gnawing fiercely at his lip, reluctant to let Gary any closer, but Gary was having none of it and he let go of Mark’s hand, coming to stand just behind him. The room was a mess; everything that had once been on the shelves in the corner was now strewn across the carpet, mingling with a number of empty cans and bottles which had, at some point or another, contained alcoholic beverages of varying strengths. The TV was blaring away to itself, despite a sofa cushion having been thrown in front of it. And in the middle of it all sat Robbie Williams, his hand clutching a bottle of something unappealing, his eyes slightly unfocused as he slowly drew them upwards to regard his visitors. A lopsided smile spread across his lips, though his eyes darkened.
“Gary Barlow and Mark Owen! Just the people I’ve been waiting for!” he declared. Mark swallowed hard, just about managing to hide his wince at Robbie’s slurred words.
“Gaz, could you go and get some coffee please? The kitchen’s just across the hallway, you can’t miss it,” he said very softly, trying to prevent Robbie from hearing him.
“Coffee?! You’re my guests! I should be doing the drinks! There’s another bottle round here somewhere...” Robbie was insisting but Mark wasn’t looking, his eyes instead fixed pleadingly on Gary, who shook his head slowly.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him like this.”
“Gaz, I’ll be fine. Just get the coffee, ok? Let me try and talk to him.”
Gary didn’t want to leave Mark alone with Robbie. Whilst he had gained a respect for the younger man over their time working together, trusting him was a very different thing. Robbie had hurt Mark in ways no other person ever had. Of course, he’d not hurt Mark as much as he’d loved Mark, but to Gary the damage done was hard to forgive. He had to admit though, Mark had a way with Robbie, charmed a softer version of him out into the open. Robbie, unlike Gary, had learnt to harden himself from a young age, for a lot of reasons, but Mark could make him drop his defences. That dubious talent of his surfacing again; his rounded face and his bright grey-green eyes catching people off guard. Mark had settled himself on the arm of the sofa already, his movements slow and tentative, but still somehow purposeful. He knew what he was doing. Gary turned slowly, reluctant but resigned. Mark had them both wrapped around his little finger, it would seem.
He spotted the door to the kitchen and made a beeline for it. A sparse and slightly old-fashioned kitchen, no signs of much real cookery happening in there, not that Gary felt he had much room to criticise. For a moment Gary paused in the centre of the room, thinking briefly that this situation was more for Jason than him; a kitchen to tidy, a person to counsel. But Jason had his own problems to deal with, he sighed. After rooting through a few cupboards he found the raw materials he needed and set to work, scouring about for mugs and teaspoons as he went. He hardly noticed Mark appearing in the kitchen doorway.
Mark stood in silence a moment, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes staring off into middle distance, then slowly he pushed himself forwards and went over to join Gary by the kettle, startling him slightly. Gary took in Mark’s dejected look and stilled.
“Not going well?” he asked softly, cupping Mark’s face in his hand. Mark closed his eyes and let out a long breath, leaning back against the kitchen counter before looking up to meet Gary’s eyes.
“I’ve not seen him like this in a long time, Gaz. And when I say a long time...I mean decades. I didn’t even know he’d started drinking again...” he murmured. Gary inclined his head slightly.
“I don’t know if this makes it better or worse but...looking around his kitchen? Doesn’t look to me like he usually keeps any alcohol in here. My guess would be something’s set him off.”
“Yeah. I wondered about that. He sounded sober when I phoned him Sunday night...and, judging by the mess in the hall, all this started with the phone anyway,” Mark sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and groaning slightly.
“Maybe he got the wrong idea when you called, thought we were coming down here to give him a hard time or something,” Gary suggested, rubbing Mark’s back soothingly. Mark simply nodded.
“Sounds like Rob. You know, with him...all it takes is to get him at the wrong moment. He’s so....so hard to predict, so changeable. We’ve got to talk him down somehow, Gaz, sober him up, then tell him why we’re really here. We’ve got to fix this.”
“If that’s what you think is best,” Gary agreed gently, his blue eyes meeting Mark’s for a moment, a reassuring smile on his face. Mark’s lips quirked up and he leant across to give Gary’s lips a quick peck of gratitude.
“I do.”
“Good, coz the coffee’s ready.”
“Perfect. Hey, if you reach into that cupboard there you should find where Rob keeps the biscuits. Although Rob only ever buys Jammy Dodgers I’m afraid,” Mark said, nodding to a cupboard behind Gary, a slightly mischievous look lighting his eyes for a moment as Gary grimaced.
“Jammy Dodgers? With tea? Robbie Williams has a lot to learn about suitable dunking biscuits,” Gary muttered softly and Mark chuckled. “What?!” Gary pressed as he found the biscuit tin and inspected its contents. Mark shook his head, his eyes still watching Gary in amusement.
“Nothing, I just...it’s just you and Rob. You know you two are so alike that sometimes I forget what opposites you are,” he shrugged. Gary raised an eyebrow.
“Come again?!” he laughed.
“Yours and Rob’s problem is you’re both too similar. It’s why you clash sometimes I think. You’re both driven, ambitious...and that makes you both want to...I don’t know, have control, I guess? Or at least, you both want to be sure you are at the centre of any given situation. And music means everything to both of you too.”
“We both have our demons,” Gary put in softly. Mark smiled a sad smile and nodded.
“Yeah. Except you’re better equipped to handle yours I think. Plus...Robbie’s demons have so much more of a grip on him than yours ever did. You’re not a depressive personality, you can keep your head above water when you have to...but Rob...”
“Doesn’t,” Gary supplied simply. Mark nodded again, looking away.
“That’s one of the reasons you’re so different. The pair of you are both prepared to work hard for what you want, and the daft thing is you both want the same things...but you’ll argue about everything else along the way. Same destination, different flight plans. You have different tastes. And different outlooks, different opinions, different ideas...”
“Different biscuits,” Gary smiled ruefully and Mark laughed.
“Yeah, that too.”
“I’m prepared to expand my horizons though, Markie. I...I really have enjoyed working with him. There’s enough common ground there for it to work. And I want it to. Work, that is. Sometimes I think I want it more than the rest of us. But I do want it so badly, Mark, for all five of us.”
“I know you do, Gaz. But what I’m worried about is...does he?”
Chapter Four: Tuesday, Early Afternoon
It was just another Tuesday. The rain was pit-patting on the glass of the city, a damp summer siege on Manchester’s streets. On Oldham Street there were the usual muttered exchanges. Have you seen this rain, someone would ask. Round here it never rains but it pours, someone else would reply as they put up their umbrella and stepped out into the deluge, back bent and eyes narrowed, marching across the puddle-dappled pavement in front of Barlow’s Music Shop. From inside Jason watched them, smiling slightly and shaking his head. He wasn’t like Howard, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the rain. He sighed a long sigh and turned away from the shop window, heading back to his tea which was slowly going cold on the counter.
It was darker in the shop’s side-room, the sound of the rain fainter, but Jason liked the peace. He leant against the counter and picked up his tea, taking a sip and closing his eyes. Pitter-pat, pitter-pat...he’d almost drifted off when the sound of his mobile jarred him back. Howard – the only reason Jason could think of in that moment for tolerating reality.
“Afternoon, love,” he greeted softly, pulling himself up to sit on the counter.
“I miss you,” Howard responded with equal tenderness and Jason’s lips curved up.
“You old romantic. How’d your meeting go?”
“The usual. They’re going to call back sometime next week. How’s the shop?”
“Quiet. Just another Tuesday in another Manchester summer. I sold some records to one of our regular collectors and a woman came in and bought that antique cello. I called Skippy, he’s going to come back and pick it up for delivery later,” Jason shrugged, trapping his phone between his ear and his shoulder and reaching for his tea once more. He knew Howard better than to think this was a call about the welfare of Gary’s shop. There was a pause before Howard spoke again.
“And how’s my husband?” he asked at last. Jason could hear the sympathy there, and from anyone else it would have bothered him. He hated being patronised at the best of times, never mind when he felt genuinely vulnerable. But from Howard it was different. He wavered and quickly broke. He wanted to waver and break. He wanted to hear someone telling him it was all going to be ok for a change. He closed his eyes.
“I’ve had better days.”
“I’m coming over.”
“How, you don’t have to do that...”
“I’m coming, no arguments,” Howard insisted and Jason smiled.
“Ok. No arguments,” repeated quietly. Howard appreciated his stubborn husband’s unusually easy surrender, although it troubled him in equal measure.
“Good. See you in about an hour then?”
“Ok. See you then.”
“Oh, and Jay?”
“Mm?”
“Everything is going to be ok, ok?”
“Don’t know where, don’t know when,” Jason laughed sadly.
“You sound like you need a hug,” Howard murmured and Jason could only smile.
“Yeah well, you sound like you need to hurry up and get here.”
“Point taken. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Oh, and Howard?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Howard’s interruption was easy to forgive, and Jason was grateful for the calm that one phone call was able to instil in him. But his calm was short-lived. Interruption was a way of life at Barlow’s Music Shop, Jason thought. Although he only thought it much later, and only ever after one-too-many glasses of wine. But the thought was there, nevertheless. Because it had been just another Tuesday really. Until the shop’s phone rang.
“Barlow’s Music Shop, how can I help you?”
“Jay, can we talk?”
“Please, Rob, just drink the coffee.” Mark edged closer to Robbie, placing a hand on his shoulder that the taller man easily shook off.
“No, I don’t want to drink the fucking coffee, I’m fucking fine so just fuck off and leave me alone,” Robbie muttered back through clenched teeth. Mark wrinkled his nose at the smell of alcohol, stale on Robbie’s breath.
“You don’t sound fine, Rob,” Gary pointed out softly.
“Oh you can fuck off an’ all,” Robbie spat back at him.
“Rob, please, we just want to talk...” Mark tried.
“No, no you don’t want to talk. People don’t book train tickets just to have a casual chin-wag, Markie. I’m not a fucking idiot.” Robbie knew rejection well, had seen it often, but he wouldn’t stand for it. He’d never taken it well and he’d never tolerated it, he wouldn’t make an exception now. Not for Gary Barlow, not even for Mark Owen.
“Rob, please,” Mark whispered softly. He was perched on the sofa at Robbie’s side, his eyebrows knitted together in concern whilst Gary stood back a little, watching the exchange nervously. He hadn’t once seen Robbie like this, even when their writing sessions had taken a turn for the worse the younger man had, for the most part, held his temper. He and Jason had argued for half-an-hour on one day, over some lyric or title or phrasing that Gary couldn’t remember, but a voice had never once been raised. Jason had sat in a corner, messing quietly with his guitar for ten minutes or so whilst Robbie had sat down with Mark and Gary and an hour later the whole thing had been over. Gary wished this situation could be so easily resolved. Robbie’s eyes were far too wild though and Gary realised, when unleashed, Robbie could either be brilliant or dangerous. There were no real in-betweens with this man; energy or darkness, genius or madman. Ordinary was an insult to Robbie Williams. Under different circumstances it would’ve been fascinating, but standing this close it was simply frightening, enchantingly so.
“Come on, Mark, we should go...” Gary began, but Robbie’s blazing blue eyes turned on him at that.
“No, see, no, you don’t get to decide that, Gaz. You’re on my turf now. Home advantage, so don’t you even fucking dare! Why should everything have to be your way all the time anyway? Don’t the rest of ‘em have voices? Come on, Markie, speak up, or has this bastard got your tongue?” Rob rose to his feet, baring his teeth as he spoke. He swayed a little at his new altitude and for a moment, as he brain tried to catch up with his body, he wondered why he was doing this. Shouldn’t he hear them out? But no. He wouldn’t be made a fool of, he would come out of this looking better than the both of them. The logic was drunken, but it was logic enough for him. Suddenly Mark was standing too, trying to form a barrier between Robbie and Gary, placing his hands gently against Robbie’s chest, his eyes revealing disappointment and pain.
“Rob, don’t do that, please don’t do that...Gaz isn’t the villain, ok? Please, Rob, just drink the coffee and then we can talk about this...” Mark hadn’t pleaded with him like this since...since...Robbie almost winced. Mark hadn’t pleaded with him like this since the last time he’d been this drunk, since he’d screwed up that final time and walked out on their relationship. Maybe that single decision had sealed his fate; Robbie Williams the drop-out. The screw-up. The second choice. Well screw that.
“Talk about what, Markie? I get it. I’m out. I didn’t meet Gary Barlow’s high fucking standards. I know why you’re here, and I don’t want to listen to your excuses, so just go. Or stay. Who fucking cares anymore. All I know is Gary Barlow wants me out. So I’m leaving before he can have the satisfaction of telling me to.”
“I don’t want you out, Rob, and that’s not why we’re here.” Gary was so calm that for a moment it seemed like Robbie might lose his sting. He looked Gary in the eye and there was a flash of childish fear there, somewhere beneath the fuzz of alcohol – Gary almost thought he looked like a scolded toddler that didn’t really understand what it was he’d done wrong. And then he looked away.
“Fuck off,” Robbie slurred under his breath. He brushed Mark’s hands away and squared his shoulders, slowly looking back up at Gary from the corner of his eye.
“Marko, could you get those files out of your bag for me.” Gary was talking softly, still looking straight at Robbie, emotionless. Mark looked at Robbie too then, his eyes sad. He’d been let down, he’d bet on Robbie just like he always did, and Robbie had let him down, just like he always used to.
“I thought things were different now, Rob,” Mark sighed before turning away. For a moment Robbie’s gaze followed him, watching him move over to the armchair and pick up his bag. Then he looked back over to Gary, jutting his chin out in petulant defiance.
“Go on then, kick me out of your band, Barlow. Won’t change the fact that Mark will always be just a little bit mine. Won’t change the fact that all those songs I wrote all by myself are better than anything you could do without Mark, Jay and Howard’s help.”
“Rob, don’t,” Mark warned. Don’t attack Gary’s music, don’t reopen Gary’s wounds. Mark wished Robbie could see that Gary had been rejected too, that the fear of rejection was something both of them shared, something that shaped the pair of them more than either seemed willing to admit.
“It’s fine, Marko,” Gary said quietly and Robbie couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Oh come on, you’re fine with that? You’re fine with the fact that nothing you do – no amount of kicking me out of your band – will make you superior to me?” Robbie asked and Gary sighed.
“This isn’t about power, Rob.”
“Like fuck it isn’t.”
“It really isn’t, Rob. But if that’s how you feel, then maybe we should go after all,” Gary said, shaking his head and turning to leave. Seeing Gary turn away from him, Robbie’s anger flared; he’d wanted a reaction. A different reaction. He thrived on reaction, needed it. And Gary wasn’t playing his game. His fist flew before he’d really thought what he was doing. But Mark knew him too well not to notice – he’d seen it before, a long time ago. He hadn’t wanted to see it again. He refused to see it again.
“Rob, don’t!” Mark’s warning was louder this time, more frantic, and he darted across the room, coming between Robbie and Gary just in time to grab Robbie’s fist with both his hands. When Gary turned round, he saw the force of Robbie’s swing send Mark toppling down. The glass coffee table shattered beneath Mark’s weight and Robbie gaped at what he had done.
“Mark...” he whispered. Mark looked up at him with eyes which were threatening tears.
“I said don’t,” Mark whispered. He swallowed hard and looked away. Gary knelt down at his side, checking him for cuts, but he found none and he breathed a sigh of relief before glancing back up to the shell-shocked Robbie.
“We’re going. Come on, Mark, we need to get you out of here...” Gary was fussing slightly but Mark shook him off. There was a single tear running down his cheek but his face had hardened somewhat and he was shaking his head determinedly.
“No,” he said firmly. Gary blinked in surprise as Mark picked himself up from the glass-strewn floor and walked back over to his bag, retrieving a folder bursting with papers from inside it. He crossed the room once more and stood before Robbie, his chin tilted up.
“Look at what he did for you, Rob. And this is how you repay him.” Mark threw down the papers on the sofa and Robbie looked down. His heart stuttered. Of all the things he thought he might see there, Progress had not been one of them.
Ever since they were babies, the Orange Twins had been getting each other into trouble. That had been the way of things since before either of them could remember. It was their mother who had first noticed that the twenty minutes that separated the two of them had made a noticeable difference, however, just a few months after bringing them home from the hospital. It was a Saturday afternoon and she’d had her hands far too full with her eldest son to be dealing with the twins as well. Baby Justin had begun to howl his lungs out only to be promptly thwacked on the head by a strangely authoritative-looking Baby Jason, whose chubby face had broken out into a satisfied smile when his twin’s screeching immediately ceased. He’d looked up at Jenny Orange then as if to say ‘I’ll deal with him mum, now you put your feet up’ and, slightly dazed, their mother had left them to it. That day was the day she realised that Jason was going to be the more responsible of the two, was always going to be the boss and, some days, she had found herself wondering just how much trouble that would lead to in the future. Jason, for his part, had not chosen to prove his mother wrong. Sure, he got into his scrapes and Jenny had had to yell ‘Jason Thomas Orange, what do you think you’re doing?’ more than once in his lifetime, but for the most part he looked after his brothers – and often his mother. Though there was no one Jason looked out for more so than his twin. He took the blame from time to time, sided with him in the odd doomed battle, covered for him even when his conscience told him he shouldn’t. And, of course, he chose to be his partner in crime more than once. Double Trouble, everyone always said when they exchanged those twin grins of theirs. Those two, young, mischievous, thick-as-thieves boys never imagined what it would all lead to when they were older, yet now here they were; two grown men, engaged in this awkward tug-of-war. Justin grew up. But Jason didn’t relinquish his role as the elder brother easily.
“That was quick.”
“I was parked up the road when I called you...I’m worried about you, Jay.”
“It’s not your job to worry about me, Justin. It’s your job to get on with your life and let me come to you if I need you,” Jason sighed heavily, pulling himself up to sit on the counter and looking over at his brother. Justin had a strange expression on his face, one that Jason wasn’t used to. Normally he and Justin could read each other well, sometimes they didn’t even need to look at each other to know how they were feeling. But somewhere along the way the connection had faded. It was a recent thing, Jason supposed, examining his brother’s eyes. Just as blue and beady as his own. Justin stared straight back at him, his face somewhere between concern and anger. He was more convinced than ever now that Jason had inherited the bulk of the family stubbornness.
“Jay, will you please stop trying to protect me and let me protect you for a change? I’m worried about you. I’m not the kid you used to bust out of detention and sneak answers to in lessons, you know? And honestly I think it’s time you let me repay some of those favours,” Justin said softly, stepping a little further into the room. More and more over the past few months he had begun to feel like he and Jason were standing at opposite sides of the city when they talked., trying and failing to make themselves understood over the noise of traffic and chatter. He wanted their closeness back so badly, but he could already see Jason starting to shake his head as though to preserve the distance.
“Justin...”he began but Justin put up a hand to top him.
“No, Jay, don’t do that, don’t brush me off. Who are you even protecting anymore? Jay, we’re all grateful to you for holding it together when dad left, we all appreciate what you did for us and for mum, but it was a long time ago. There’s no one to be strong for anymore, we’re all big boys, we can handle ourselves. So stop being so fucking noble and tell me what’s going on with you these days!” Justin paused, biting him lip then glancing down at his hands. “I spoke to dad last night...”
“You spoke to dad?”
“Jay...”
“No, Justin, look, if you want to know what’s going on with me then ask me, don’t ask dad, he really doesn’t know me half as well as he thinks he does.”
“Jay, I thought we were past this...” Justin groaned, seeing the conversation getting away from him and wishing he’d found a better way of approaching this subject. Jason was notoriously difficult when he wanted to be. People who’d known him a day would either think him an angel or a bastard, there were few in-betweens; if he was having bad day he would struggle to hide it, but if he was having a good day...the wattage of his smile could blind people. But there was no smile today. Today there was grit and bullish pride.
“I will never be ‘past this’, Justin. Have you forgotten what it was like?”
“Of course not, Jay. But dad’s suffered too. And you and him – all of us – were getting really close again. Or I thought it was close. But now he’s telling me you’ve turned on him and that Howard threw him out of your place...”
“Howard didn’t throw him out, he asked him to leave.”
“Oh and that’s so much better is it, Jay? That’s our dad! Howard has no right...” Justin stopped instantly when Jason jumped back down from the counter, eyes flashing fiercely.
“Howard has every right, Justin – that’s his home. Our home. He’s my husband, Justin! And he would never have got involved anyway if dad hadn’t pushed me so hard.” Jason stared Justin down until his twin let out a long sigh, put up his hands in mock-surrender and finally looked away. Jason had always been the one to win their staring contests and Justin knew when he was beaten.
“Jay, I’m just saying that...”
“Well don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t ‘just say’ and try just listening; I’m ok. And if I wasn’t? It wouldn’t because of Howard, it would be because of you and dad and the rest of the family trying to tell me what I’m feeling when they don’t have a clue,” Jason all but growled before closing his eyes a moment and trying to swallow the defensive anger that crept up through his body when Justin mentioned Howard. Howard. He kept thinking his name over and over. It calmed him a little and in that moment he wished more than ever that he and Justin still had that peculiar ability of theirs to just understand what was going on in each other’s heads. Justin was studying him again, he could feel his gaze, and he wanted to get away.
“Jay...he’s changed you, you know? And I don’t know if that’s a good thing...”
“Howard hasn’t changed me, Justin, life has changed me. And Howard is one of the only people in the world who can see that...who can see everything I was and am and he loves me for it.”
“But does he, Jay? Are you sure? You sure he doesn’t just love that he can control you?” Justin pressed and, to his surprise, Jason laughed. His eyes sparkled briefly and he looked up at him, a genuine smile still on his lips.
“Please – Howard? You think Howard wants control over anything? My husband? He’s so laid back he’s practically horizontal! The last thing he wants is to take charge. The only time Howard will ever willingly take control of a situation is when I ask him to. He does that for me even though he hates it, because when I say I need him, he actually cares.”
“But what about Germany, Jay?”
“Justin, tell me you know me better than this...”
“He took you totally away from us, away from Manchester, away from everything, to another country, and for what?”
“For an opportunity. And it didn’t work out, but...I remember the good bits not the bad. And anyway, Justin, come on, you know me, I wouldn’t have gone with him if I didn’t want to. I went because he would’ve done the same for me.”
“Fine, but what about the apartment?” Justin continued and Jason frowned.
“Our home, you mean? What about it?”
“This all started when he bought that place...”
“Justin, you’re being ridiculous! He bought the apartment for me.”
“And are you really telling me that he hasn’t found ways to make you repay the favour?” Justin demanded. Jason felt both laughter and tears rising up within him and he smiled a distant sort of smile, looking down and avoiding his brother’s eyes.
“Sure, he had his own...suggestions, about what I might like to reward him with. But trust me on this one, Justin, I didn’t mind. I actually enjoyed it. He made me laugh about it...he always makes me laugh when I least expect him to,” he murmured. Justin gritted his teeth, letting out a frustrated grunt and folding his arms.
“What about the deeds though, Jay? Whose name did he put them in? His? What happens if he leaves you? You’ll have no home and we’ll be the ones who have to pick up the pieces.”
“He won’t leave me.”
“How can you be so sure, Jay?”
“I just am.”
“After everything mum and dad went through, how can you...” Justin began but Jason’s eyes sparked back to life before he could get the sentence out.
“After everything mum and dad went through, Justin, I wouldn’t be married at all if I wasn’t sure.”
“But Jay, I just...you’re not like you used to be, ok? And I have to worry because you used to be so sure of yourself and I feel like he...” Justin trailed off, looking at his brother pleadingly. But Jason’s head was bent and he was staring off to a point somewhere over Justin’s shoulder. “I just want my twin back.” Jason didn’t show any sign he’d heard the words and, after a moment of silence, he turned his head to look back at Justin, his eyes dull but glinting slightly from unshed tears.
“He put the deeds in my name.” Jason hardly raised his voice from a whisper.
“What?” Justin frowned.
“Howard put the deeds to the apartment in my name. Just mine. Unprompted. You know, Justin, if you ever talked to him properly, you’d see he...he’s just the best person...the best I know anyway.” And with that Jason pushed past Justin, walking across the shop floor and hurrying out into the street.
Howard slammed the car door shut and pocketed his keys, narrowly avoiding a puddle as he made his way off down the road. The rain was beginning to get heavier now and he squinted against it, tugging sulkily at the hood of his hoody. He hated this rain, this unending summer rain. He could hear the puddles filling up around the city and he cursed under his breath as he felt the raindrops soaking into his shoes. He should be used to it by now, he supposed; the rain always did seep through. Later that night, when the sun had gone down and he was standing alone in silence, he couldn’t help contemplating if that rain had leached under his skin somehow, because sometimes he could swear he could feel it there, cold and grey.
As he turned down onto Oldham Street, the sound of someone shouting over the rain caught his attention and he looked up in confusion. Barlow’s Music Shop still looked strangely bright despite the weather – its red and gold front a sharp contrast to the dingy Mancunian sky above – and Howard’s eyes were drawn to it immediately. Jason’s slight form was disappearing into the distance, his footsteps meeting the beat of the rain perfectly as he hurried out of the shop’s door and headed the opposite way up the street. He didn’t spot Howard, too busy shouting over his shoulder.
“Leave it, Justin, just leave it.” Jason’s voice almost disappeared in the roar of the rain. Howard’s eyes moved to the doorway then. An uncertain-looking Justin Orange hovered there, not stepping out into the rain but not moving back into the shop either. Every muscle in Howard’s body tensed in an instant. His heart was tight, an unnervingly familiar sensation of falling overcoming him briefly. Things always go this way, Howard. Pitter-pat went the rain. Come on, don’t tell me you weren’t expecting it.
“He’s not worth this, Jay. He’s not worth losing your family over.” Howard stopped walking then. He couldn’t believe that Justin was trying to make Jason choose and for a moment his body ached as the full force of what Jason must be going through hit him so hard and so suddenly that it was as though someone had delivered a solid blow to his chest. He had to get to Jason.
Justin stepped down onto the pavement, about to go after his brother, when he noticed someone else on the street. Howard. His breath caught and briefly he felt guilty – he may not like Howard that much right now, but he didn’t want to be so harsh to his face. It occurred to him later that Howard had barely registered the personal insult, always more concerned with the impact of the words on Jason than himself, but in that moment he only saw the man who had turned his brother against them all. He pushed his unease aside, rounding on him to attempt to pick up the fight once more.
It happened when Justin was opening his mouth to speak. Both he and Howard heard it. Both he and Howard knew, somehow. A screech of tyres and the sound of crumpling metal. Broken glass. The fighting forgotten they had exchanged a glance. And then they ran.
It was a Tuesday. Just another in that long, Mancunian summer. But in amidst the damp, puddled tarmac of the city, everything had changed.
Chapter Five: Tuesday, Mid-Afternoon
All that stuff you read in books about the world standing still? Bullshit. Howard knew better than any one person ever should what it really felt like when some unstoppable force tore through a person’s life, uprooting everything. If anything, when it came down to it, the world moved too fast, surging around one frozen focal-point. Jason.
Justin came running up behind Howard, his thudding footsteps sounding strangely distant somehow. The split-splat of the puddles on the pavement echoed after each one, reverberating in Howard’s skull. He would’ve spared a moment to curse the weather one more time, but he was far beyond the point where cursing at the rain was enough. He wanted to set it on fire.
“Oh God,” Justin croaked behind him. Howard hardly heard him.
A woman was being helped from the car, dazed and bruised and murmuring frantically about not being able to do anything. Someone shushed her, whispering things they hoped were true.
“It wasn’t your fault, it’s this weather.” And those people gathered around who had abandoned their shops on Oldham Street and run up to the main road to assess the damage all turned to each other and repeated that phrase; round here it never rains but it pours. Someone moved towards where Jason lay, then spotted Howard across the way and stilled, lowering their eyes respectfully.
It was quite a sight. All that rain and broken glass. The battered car up on the pavement, its front end crushed against a lamppost, its windscreen smashed, glass and puddles littering the tarmac around it. And Jason. Howard’s vision flickered briefly and he found himself wondering; was this really the same city where they shared that first kiss? Could it really be that this grey, horrendous place had once been somewhere he’d loved? But even then it had been raining. And it was that thought that shone out the clearest in his mind. He despised the rain now. He despised this city.
“Jay.” It fell out. Soft and unexpected, neither hopeful nor despairing. More of an announcement of presence than anything else. I’ll let you call me Jay. He hated that he remembered everything. He knelt down slowly, hardly noticing the feeling of wet tarmac soaking his jeans and stinging his knees. He imagined that was what hell felt like; wet tarmac, sodden denim and raw knees. Someone behind was explaining to Justin what had happened, but Howard didn’t care to know. Jason was breathing, faintly. And cuts could heal, couldn’t they? Howard’s fingers brushed tentatively against the pattern of cuts arranged across Jason’s face. He could feel Jason’s blood against his skin – felt that more keenly than he felt his own tears as they began to trace lines down his cheeks. He licked the salt from his lips and let his hand rest against Jason’s warmth as the rain continued to fall around the two of them. He longed to be able to shelter him, protect him with his own body. Howard closed his eyes and bowed his head a moment.
When Howard opened his eyes again, it was Justin’s face which came into focus first. And, from some long-forgotten reserve of strength that Howard hadn’t had to call upon since those painful months when he hadn’t known if Jason was dead or alive, he found the muscle to fight with. If he couldn’t keep Jason safe or warm or dry, if he couldn’t keep Jason breathing, he could at least keep anymore pain away from him. Justin faltered slightly, not daring to come any closer as he saw the tight grip Howard had on his twin’s arm.
“Howard...” But Howard’s eyes were the stormy blue of a man who cared too passionately about his cause to back down easily.
“Go away. Just go away. Now.” Howard’s gaze dropped immediately then, turning back to Jason, whose fingers brushed his faintly. The movement was brief, but Howard looked at Jason as though he had just performed a ballet on that puddle-strewn street. Justin didn’t have the courage to speak again, though he didn’t leave either, simply hovering, a spectator in his own brother’s life. Just another one of the growing crowd that had gathered around the scene. Howard pressed a kiss to Jason’s forehead, murmuring things he couldn’t be sure were really words. Promises he couldn’t be sure meant anything at all.
Howard tried to move himself, attempting to keep people from staring too long at his husband’s thin form stretched out on the ground. His hands were covered in grit and dirt and there was rainwater dripping from the ends of his dark curls – it made no difference to him anymore. It could drown him for all he cared, so long as Jason made it to the surface with air in his lungs. He couldn’t look up, couldn’t look away. He’d felt Jason’s fingers move, all he had to do now was wait, he was sure. Jason would look up at him with those blue eyes of his. Stop fretting, he’d say. Pot, stop calling the kettle black please, Howard would reply. And they’d laugh and the rain would stop and they would be ok. Everything would be ok. And yet...
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sirens and he looked up, surprised to see how much had happened whilst he’d been sitting there, head bent, staring intently at Jason’s unmoving face. A police car had pulled up at some point and two tall, solemn-looking officers were moving people back, making calming noises and asking for information. On the other side of the road, one ambulance was already parked – the driver of the car was sitting wrapped in a blanket in the back being talked to by a paramedic – whilst a second ambulance was just pulling up, a female paramedic hopping out swiftly. Her male colleague jumped down shortly after, making his way to the other ambulance to get briefed on the situation with the driver whilst his partner continued on towards where Howard was sitting with Jason.
“Hello sweetheart, what’s your name?” She had a heart-shaped face and almond eyes and the fact she addressed the question to Jason touched Howard deeply.
“He’s Jason. Jay. He’s my husband,” Howard managed to murmur back, his own eyes not straying from Jason for long. He sniffed slightly and hoped the rain hid his tears and the paramedic smiled kindly, pretending not to notice the red-rims to his eyes.
“Husband, eh, well you did well for yourself. I’m Julie by the way, and this is Nick. Nick, this is Jason and his husband...”
“Howard.”
“Howard. Well, Howard, don’t you worry, ok? Jason is in good hands with us. Isn’t that right, Nick?” Julie smiled. Nick was kneeling down next to her, looking for all the world like a friendly giant. His big hands moved quickly as he helped Julie, his eyes briefly coming up to meet Howard’s before he looked back down once more.
“Really, Howard, just try to keep calm for us and we will be able to do a lot more for your husband, ok?” he said gently. Howard simply nodded, allowing Julie and Nick to exchange a few hushed words. Julie touched a hand to Jason’s face and let out a soft sound of affection.
“Poor love. Such a lovely face, wouldn’t you say Nick?” she enquired of her partner. Her hands were moving around Jason and, though Howard couldn’t work out what she was doing, he found he didn’t mind. Nick’s hands helped Julie – a wordless understanding between the two of them.
“Well I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed. And I’m straight,” he replied. Howard looked over at the man in surprise. He had such a jolly face, but there was a concentration in his eyes.
“Kick him out? Strap him to it more like. So lovely,” Julie insisted, flashing her kind eyes up to Howard in an effort to show her good intentions. Howard almost laughed.
“Don’t mind her, Howard, she’s always like this. Her way of cutting the tension,” Nick remarked softly and Howard smiled back with bittersweet fondness.
“Sounds like Jay,” he admitted. Julie paused a moment, glancing up at Howard then looking back down to Jason’s closed eyes. Everything about her was so kind, every movement and sound she made so tender and slow.
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” she murmured. Howard didn’t know which one of them she was talking to but he felt comforted by her nonetheless.
“Driver’s in shock, a little cut and bruised but she’ll be ok. By the sound of it this one took the brunt of the force...goodness knows why no one mentioned him in the original call...” Nick trailed off as he noticed Justin still hovering close by. “And you are...?”
“He’s nobody,” Howard cut in before Justin could speak. Nick nodded a little uncertainly and continued to help Julie.
“Now, Howard, I’m going to need you to stay here with Jason and keep him very still for me whilst Nick and I get some things from the ambulance, ok? We’re going to need to put him on a back-board and give him a neck-brace, but try not to let that scare you, promise me? It’s just precautionary.” Howard simply nodded, squeezing Jason’s hand tightly as the paramedics moved away.
“Make yourself useful, Justin, call Gaz and Mark, tell ‘em...just...just tell ‘em what’s happened.” He realised how gravelly his voice sounded against the backdrop of the rain, but he didn’t care. Justin should already be making calls, should already be trying to help...this was his mess. Jason would be safe if Justin had just stayed away. Howard couldn’t look at him as he spoke, scared that if he did then the rain would start whispering to him again. But would he really have been safe, Howard? Come on, you know this story. Justin didn’t bother to reply. He reached into his pocket for his mobile and then turned and walked away.
As Robbie reached for the smart yellow folder, bursting with papers, he realised his hand was shaking.
“What is this?” he breathed, running his hand down a tracklist, handwritten in marker pen and glued to the front of the folder. Mark’s gaze was all hot-anger and stinging disappointment and it gave Robbie the most peculiar burning sensation across his skin. He tried to duck the stare but it was impossible and, he thought, it was a rare show of force from the smaller man which would have impressed him had it been turned on anyone else.
“It’s a mock-up of a songbook,” Mark told him simply.
“We sent it to Jonathan, our manager. We posted that off with a bunch of other things we’ve done...we’ve been thinking about forming our own songwriting team, getting our names out there with the books and...and seeing if Jonathan could help get us a publishing deal,” Gary elaborated, a surprising softness in his tone. Robbie opened the file slowly, turning the pages and stroking his fingers along the neatly printed sheet music and accompanying lyrics. He recognised these songs.
“These are all...”
“The ones we wrote with you,” Mark finished for him and Robbie looked up.
“But...why?”
“Because we wanted you to be part of it. Because those songs are amazing. Because I – because we all – enjoyed working with you.” Robbie glanced over at Gary in disbelief, then slowly turned his gaze back to Mark, as though seeking confirmation.
“We didn’t tell the others about this...we wanted to come to you first. We didn’t want to rush you. Or get our hopes up either. Guess I never learn though...” Mark added quietly.
“But...but do you all want me?”
“Gaz and Jay and me, we all voted to keep you involved. Only Howard was against it.”
“Howard didn’t vote for me?” Robbie didn’t know why that was what he focused on. He guessed it was because he could cope a lot better with Howard’s rejection than with Mark’s disappointment.
“He said it wasn’t personal...he just thought you were too much of an uncertain quantity. I guess he was right and I was wrong.” Robbie looked up then. It was amazing how sobering Mark’s gaze could be – it was as though all the alcohol in his system had been burned away and all there was left to feel were the scorch marks where Mark’s eyes had glanced across his skin.
Gary’s phone ringing was the sound that finally broke the silence and he answered it quickly, hoping to get rid of whoever it was and try and talk this argument back to somewhere much calmer. But Gary’s hopes of resolution died quickly when he heard the voice at the other end of the line.
“What? When?” Mark looked over at that, finally breaking his staring contest with Robbie, his brow creasing in concern. “Ok, we’ll be back as soon as we can. I’ll see you later, Justin.”
“Justin?” Mark asked as Gary lowered the phone from his ear.
“Mark, we’ve got to go. There’s been an accident...Jay’s being taken to hospital. We’ve got to go. Now.”
In the small space of the back of the ambulance, Jason seemed somehow bigger. More robust, less likely to shatter. Jason’s strength was more obvious there than it had been out on the tarmac and Howard found an absurd comfort in that. He had to focus on that above all else – above the wail of the siren and the drumming of the rain on the roof and Julie’s hands fluttering about around Jason all the time. Howard was dripping all over her confined workspace but she didn’t complain, letting the rainwater splish-splash about their silent trio as it trickled from the ends of Howard’s curls. His intense blue stare went from her to Jason and back and something about the way his muscles tensed and un-tensed then tensed again made her sure he played the drums; she’d dated a drummer once, and he’d had just the same level of pent-up energy. She knew the only cure was for him to either bang something very hard or start throwing things, and she was grateful that he resisted the temptation. She didn’t begrudge him that severe stare though, not even as it bore into the top of her head. Julie begrudged no one anything and she could understand his mild distrust of her. After all, she suspected she’d already won more trust than many strangers would have done – something told her that anyone deemed by Howard to be suspicious would not even have been permitted to be this close, to separate the two of them in any way. Perhaps he and his poor husband would still be out on that wet tarmac now if Howard had decided it was for the better. Fierce, that’s what Howard was. And she admired the courage it was taking him to be so fierce in that moment.
The wordless space that Julie preserved for him allowed Howard time to disappear for a while, taking refuge inside his own head. He thought about a night a long time ago, before they were married and before the rain was their enemy. They’d been lying awake in the dark and Howard had had his arms wrapped around Jason’s stomach, his chin in the crook of his neck. And as he’d begun to kiss every inch of Jason’s exposed skin, Jason had begun to tell Howard all the things he was afraid of. And, somewhere amidst his stream of words, he’d sworn he’d never marry. Howard had simply kissed his shoulder and held him close and finally Jason had whispered back to him in that voice he saved for his most precious secrets ‘But, I think, if I do, How...then I’ll marry you.’
Howard blinked. And as the world shifted back into focus, he realised Julie was looking at him with those brown eyes of hers, pressing something metallic into his hand. He glanced down and frowned when he saw Jason’s wedding ring was now resting in his palm.
“The trauma unit have a job to do, an important one that I wouldn’t dream of criticising. I know that seconds mean everything in this line of work, for them it’s the difference between being the heroes or the villains. And, sometimes, little things get lost or damaged along the way. At the time they mean nothing, but to the people on the other side of those doors...I know they can mean a hell of a lot. Not as much as their loved one’s life but...just, keep that safe for him, ok? I think both of you want it in one piece when all this is over. I suspect your lovely Jason might even want it back.” Julie gave him a small smile, squeezing his arm gently then turning back to tend to Jason. Howard looked back down at the ring in his hand, running his thumb against the engraved inside.
“He swore he’d never get married.” Howard didn’t know why he said it. Julie’s brown eyes shone and somehow he knew she understood. He closed his hand around the ring and clasped it tightly. It was only then he noticed that on Jason’s finger, where the ring had been, there was a barely-noticeable band of paler skin. Howard almost wanted to laugh – a bitter, sad laugh but a laugh all the same – as he thought about it. The man who swore he’d never marry with a wedding band worn for so long it had become a part of him. Really, he and Jason...they had become extensions of each other. And what good has it done him? Howard closed his eyes tightly to stop a fresh onslaught of tears. Julie silently patted his knee, then respectfully she turned away.
When silence finally settled on them, they preserved it with stillness, their bodies curving together in one line along the small bed. Jason moved his head slightly. His hand was on top of Howard’s, whose arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, and he stroked his thumb against his skin.
“Now you know all my secrets,” he murmured into the peace. The stillness was thick and underscored by the steady patter of the rain outside. Somewhere in the distance a car alarm whined, but otherwise the city was quiet. Just another of those forgotten Manchester nights – there are a handful every year. Orange light lapped at their toes from the streetlamp outside. The two of them filled up Howard’s cramped bedroom, something about their intertwined limbs making them an altogether more infinite form, and Howard decided he liked this cluttered peace. Jason’s words were still fresh, all those wounds and scars that might never heal, all those promises broken and scattered across his past. And that strangely persistent hope that there could be someone better than that in the world – the strange part being that Jason thought Howard could be that better someone. It made him want to be better, to be someone who could preserve their un-silent silences, to be the person that could keep the world away rather than the person doing the hiding from it. He closed his eyes and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of Jason’s neck, then slowly grabbed onto the sheet that was tangled about their legs, pulling it up and up and up still further, even as Jason twisted his head slightly in trusting confusion. Jason turned over, fitting himself back into the concave of Howard’s chest and looking up into his eyes, his hand coming to rest on Howard’s upper arm. Howard looked back with determined blue eyes which shone in the shifting darkness. He drew the sheet up until it was over both of their heads. And there they were; safe. Preserved together in a world entirely their own. Howard cupped Jason’s face in his hand and in the shelter of the sheets Jason let slip a smile.
“I’ll guard your secrets with my life, Jay. I promise.”
Chapter Six: Tuesday, Late Afternoon
Gary and Mark had chosen a quiet-looking carriage near the end of the platform, dragging their hastily-packed luggage behind them in a solemn silence as they made their beeline, desperate for somewhere calm to lose their minds for a while before they found themselves back in the chaos of Manchester’s rain trying to be strong . Gary had helped Mark up and into the train and squeezed his hand tightly. Mark had only let go once they had found somewhere to sit, setting about biting his nails almost immediately. Gary let out a long sigh and looked out of the train window. There was a newspaper board on the platform outside bearing a headline which read ‘Bungling arsonist sets self alight’ and he found himself so absorbed in the mental image the words painted that it startled him a little when the train eventually began to pull away. Stoke-on-Trent was vanishing from view surprisingly quickly, but the memories of it were persistent in their vibrancy. To Mark’s mind they were frustratingly stubborn. Brazen, even. The wind on the hillside opposite the Britannia, the colours of the canal boats, the smell of the alcohol on Robbie’s breath. He watched the city disappearing behind them, his jaw clenched before eventually he turning away from the window. Gary’s blue eyes were so kind Mark wanted to cry when he found them fixed on him.
“Mark...”
“Don’t, Gaz, please.”
“We have to talk about this.”
“Gaz, please. Please don’t make me do this now...”
“You and me have a bad track record when we don’t talk about these things, Marko.”
“Gaz! Jay is...Jay is...hurt or...or we don’t even know what and Howard’s probably...look, just not now, ok? Not when Jay and Howard need us, not when everything’s falling apart anyway...” Mark ran one hand through his hair, trying to flash a polite smile at a man looking over his newspaper at them in mild concern. It came out as more of a grimace and Mark squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Gary’s eyes didn’t flicker though. Mark usually admired Gary’s grit, but not today.
“He didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” Gary was talking more gently now but it only made Mark feel worse and he finally met Gary’s eyes.
“No, he meant for you to get hurt, Gaz, and that’s not...that’s not ok.”
“He was drunk.”
“He shouldn’t even have been drinking, Gaz, he knows what that does to him! He told me he’d stopped, that he hadn’t even...” Mark trailed off, shaking his head slightly and scrunching up his face. Gary reached a hand across the table, making a grab for Mark’s hand and giving his fingers a firm squeeze. Mark closed his eyes.
“Marko,” Gary said gently, in that loving tone of his that always softened Mark’s will. There was a pause in which the train rattled all-too-loudly past another train and Mark looked back out of the window, trying to make out the faces in the strange blur of its carriages. The train hurtled away from them and Mark sighed, looking over to Gary at last.
“What, Gaz? It’s done. Jay should be our priority now. Rob is...Rob is an afterthought at best. With Jay and...and Howard...Rob shouldn’t ever have been more than an afterthought. Now he should be nothing at all.”
“But what exactly can we do to help Jay right now? Or even Howard?”
“Gaz...”
“No, don’t ‘Gaz’ me, because you know I’m right, Mark. You know Jay and Howard are like family to me, just as much as they are to you, and I feel ill just thinking about what they’re going through right now...but I can’t help them. Not when I’m stuck on this train. But I love you too. And you I can help right now. So let me help you.”
“There’s nothing to help me with, Gaz. It’s done. Rob...Rob proved the world right, he screwed up and he threw away a chance to prove them wrong. It’s done, it’s over. I’m out.”
“But Mark, he loves you.”
“He needs to get over me.”
“What, like Howard needs to get over Jay? Like you need to get over me?”
“It’s not the same, Gaz, he...me and him...”
“He loves you, Marko. He does. He loves you an incredible amount. And he loves music an incredible amount too. Enough to make stupid decisions sometimes...something you and me – and Jay and Howard, come to that – know a lot about too. Nothing is unforgiveable when it’s done for that sort of love. I don’t think so anyway.”
“I’m done making excuses for him, Gaz,” Mark protested weakly. Gary tilted his head, attempting to get Mark’s gaze back up to meet his own. But Mark simply closed his eyes.
“He loves you and he loves music. And I can’t help but empathise with that.”
“That doesn’t justify what he’s done.”
“He thought I was coming to take you and music away from him, Marko. In one swoop. He thought that the two things that make his life worth living were going to leave him in the dust, just like everything and everyone else. And that petrified him. So he fought for you. He fought for you the same way I would’ve done, and yet I know you’d forgive and forget if it had been me.” Mark shook his head slowly, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and letting go of Gary’s hand, leaning back in his seat. He looked out of the window and watched the blurring scenery before him. His whole body ached and all at once he felt the Mancunian rain and the Stoke-on-Trent wind mingling on his skin. A tear rolled down his cheek and Gary watched him in concern.
“Which one of them are you crying for, Marko?” he asked softly. Mark didn’t look up.
“For all of us, I think.”
The man in the corridor with the bowed head and eyes the colour of thunder – an unusual sight anywhere else, but not here. Here he was just another sad bastard having the worst day of his life. The uncertainty was almost a tangible thing in the hospital foyer. Hot and sticky. It was drying the raindrops which were still spattered across Howard’s skin. He ran a hand through his hair and flattened his back against the wall, eyes closed, head tipped upwards. One of many Mancunian blokes whose day was not turning out as planned, he supposed. Although he’s the only one with grit still sticking to his palms. To the staff the only thing that really marks him out is the resolute flash in his eyes; there’s a strength there of someone who has been dragged to the edge before and survived, a determination that if this time was the time he went down, then he was going to go down fighting. Julie had been impressed when she had managed to get him to stay that side of the doors without much argument, though later she reflected that, whilst he was a fierce one, there was a steely calmness to him too, an acute awareness that every action he made had to be judged on the effect it would have on his husband above all else. And she was certain he would have flown to the other side of the globe and waited there in silence if someone had told him that it would help them get his husband back in one piece.
A door opened and shut and Howard lifted his head briefly as a nurse appeared, her shoes squeaking loudly on the floor. He winced and turned away, looking over to the main entrance instead. There were people coming and going constantly, all of them seeming as though they came from some other place, some other version of Manchester which wasn’t constructed out of tarmac and glass, where it didn’t rain and uncertainty never lingered on the corners of the streets. It wasn’t until Justin appeared – his shoulders tense and his hair plastered to his head from the rain – that Howard realised there was at least one other man in the world still stuck inside this hideous summer. Somewhere in the back of his head Howard could hear the sound of Jason’s laugh; sorry, How, but I don’t think Justin’s come to lend you a brolly. Hadn’t Jason actually said that to him once? Howard felt something twang in his chest, like a guitar string plucked too suddenly, and the urge to cause a scene and demand to see his husband was momentarily stronger than his urge to keep calm. He swallowed it down and rubbed his hands over his face before letting out a long breath. No. He was being selfish. And besides, making a scene only ever worked for people in the movies, for everyone else it just got them chucked out of the hospital and made their loved ones feel disappointed in them when they woke up and were told the news.
Justin approached Howard quickly, though there was a nerviness to his step that made Howard feel almost proud. Almost, but not quite. After all, who exactly was winning in this situation? If it wasn’t Jason, then it couldn’t be Howard. But Justin didn’t look like a man who was triumphing over anyone either, his eyes a glassy grey and his brow creased.
“How is he? Did they tell you anything in the ambulance?” Howard noticed Justin’s effort to keep the panic from his voice and he almost smiled at it. For that moment at least, he realised, no one understood how Justin was feeling better than he did. No one understood how either of them was feeling better than each other. Howard looked down and shook his head slightly.
“Not much...she said she’d seen much worse, said she didn’t think there were any broken bones but they were worried about a head injury. Then they took him through there and I haven’t heard since,” Howard mumbled softly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor and nodding in the direction of the closed double doors which led to the hospital’s trauma unit. He had to close his eyes to fend off tears. Don’t make a scene, he repeated to himself in his head, digging his fingernails into his palm and avoiding looking at Justin, whose pained expression was the mirror of his own.
“I just don’t...I don’t even...he was arguing with me less than an hour ago.” Justin couldn’t quite comprehend how his day had come to this. Howard smiled sadly at that, still avoiding Justin’s eyes.
“Yeah well, he can be a right git when he wants to be,” he replied softly. The noise Justin made was neither a laugh nor a sob and he moved to lean against the wall next to Howard.
“Howard...I’m just trying to look out for him, you know?”
“I know. But so am I.”
The silence wasn’t entirely awkward. There was a shared understanding that, until Jason was awake again, eyes bright as he set about telling them both off severely, there was very little else of any importance. And both men were haunted by the sound of the rain. Eyes closed, both with heads tipped back, neither one of them noticed the double doors opening.
Doctor Whelan was one of the younger members of the trauma team, however he was also one of the best. He’d been heading up the afternoon shift when the call came through – the first serious incident of his day. Julie and Nick had both briefed him as best they could, but mostly the responsibility had been on his shoulders to assess and judge what action was for the best. He had been the man to take the decisions and, once those decisions had been taken, he had been the man charged with the responsibility of talking to his patient’s family. Only today, that job had become a lot more complicated. He glanced down at the file in his hands before moving to ask one of the nurses just who it was he was looking for.
“Excuse me, Mr. Donald? I’m Dr. Alex Whelan, I’m part of the trauma team here who have been looking after your husband.” Howard and Justin both opened their eyes, heads snapping round in unison.
“You’ve been with Jay? How is he?” Justin asked.
“Is everything ok?” Howard questioned more softly. Doctor Whelan looked down at his file.
“I’m right in thinking you are Mr. Orange’s partner?” Howard nodded.
“Can we see him yet?” Justin put in and once more Doctor Whelan avoided his gaze.
“A few years ago, your partner, Mr. Orange...”
“Jason,” Howard interrupted and Doctor Whelan nodded.
“A few years ago, Jason was asked by a police liaisons officer to attend victim’s counselling following a particularly traumatic case, correct? Involving a kidnapping?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Justin frowned and Howard felt both their hearts stutter slightly as memories flooded their bodies. Rain, more rain and uncertainty and rain. The only thing that stopped Howard drowning from the onslaught was the memory of Jason, half-laughing, half-crying into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. That day, the day he’d finally come back, had been the day that their puddled city had, for a little while at least, stopped feeling so wretched. But God, Jason had resented those counselling sessions. He’d made it to three before giving up and appointing Howard his counsellor. They’d pull the sheets up over their heads just like before, and he’d talk in whispers and Howard would kiss his forehead and hold him until he fell asleep.
“Did he tell you this?” Howard suddenly asked and Doctor Whelan let out a sigh.
“Your husband has yet to regain consciousness I’m afraid.”
“Then why are you asking about my brother’s counselling?” Justin put in.
“At the last of Jason’s sessions he put in a request, via the counsellor, to have his medical file altered so that, in the event of his own capacity being diminished, medical staff would be required to only divulge information and request decisions from those specifically named by him.”
“Meaning?” Howard could hear a nervousness in Justin’s tone and in the pit of his stomach he felt a small knot of guilt. Doctor Whelan looked uncomfortable – even a man of his experience didn’t quite know how to handle the task he had been charged with.
“I’m afraid I am only permitted to give out information regarding your brother’s condition to his mother and to Mr. Donald here.”
“But...why?” Justin whispered. Howard squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
“He stopped trusting people after...even I struggled with him, I had to fight sometimes. I guess he just...appreciated that I tried,” he whispered. Justin swallowed and nodded dumbly, his eyes glittering with tears.
“I’ll er...I’m just going to step outside and...and er...maybe I should phone a few more people. Try and get through to dad again...”
“Hey Trouble.”
“Hey Beautiful.” Howard kissed Jason’s shoulder as he pulled him still closer. Jason didn’t open his eyes or move to intertwine their arms further, but Howard knew the lack of resistance was a victory of sorts.
“Go to sleep, How.”
“Shan’t.” The corner of Jason’s lips quirked and Howard rewarded him with another kiss, this time to his cheek. Jason didn’t open his eyes, but he did let out a long breath, his muscles relaxing against Howard’s strong, broad-shouldered body. The sheet fluttered above them.
“You know, once upon a time, it was just me in this bed. In this apartment...inside my own head.”
“Do you miss it?” Howard propped himself up on his elbow, running his hand down Jason’s arm and then clasping their hands together. Jason didn’t flinch or pull his hand away, he simply lay there, contemplating the question as Howard peppered kisses along his shoulder and into the crook of his neck. He felt Howard’s curls brushing against his cheek and almost laughed.
“No.” Howard smiled slightly in the pause that followed and Jason opened his eyes, looking up into Howard’s face. “I can hardly even remember it anymore.” Howard touched a hand to his face, cupping his cheek then leaning in to kiss his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Jason smiled.
“Don’t be. This is the way I want it to be...when I’m actually thinking straight, this is the way I want it to be.”
The bustle of Manchester Piccadilly was overwhelming, and for a moment Mark wavered on his feet. Gary glanced back at him, his eyes concerned, and he put out a hand to steady him.
“Are you ok? Do you need to sit down a moment?” Mark shook his head and, although he was sceptical, Gary pressed on, tugging Mark behind him through the crowds and heading for the taxi rank. They were both aware of people’s eyes. Old women sitting in the coffee shop who had seen enough of the world recognise genuine anguish when it passed them, their eyes strangely kind and intrigued as the pair hurried past them with contained urgency. They had been alive too long to still live in fear of the uncertainty or the rain and they quietly turned their eyes away as Mark and Gary’s outlines merged back into the rest of the crowd.
By the time they reached the taxi queue, the squeezing sensation in Mark’s chest was becoming unbearable and he leant against Gary, his eyes tightly shut, his face contorted as though he were in pain. Gary wanted to have someone to lean against too, but this was the time he had to be strong for all of them. That much, he realised, he owed them. They had all done it for him before now.
“If Jay isn’t...if something happens to him...we should have been buried in rehearsals today, we could have been preparing to go on stage.”
“Markie, we talked about this...”
“We had a choice to make. And we made it without him and Howard.”
“Because Jay was going to be so thrilled at the idea of a documentary crew asking him questions about the Manchester music scene? Performing in front of them?”
“Gaz, I just...”
“No, Marko, we made the right choice. There are better ways to get your music heard.”
“Our friendship was supposed to be the most important thing though, we promised that after everything the four of us had been through...”
“The five of us,” Gary corrected Mark quietly. There was a pause and the two of them shuffled forward in the queue silently as another taxi pulled up.
“I just wish we’d been at the shop today, then maybe...” Mark stopped abruptly, shaking his head, determined not to imagine the worst but unable to stop himself. Gary placed a gentle hand on his back, kissing his forehead.
“Hey, come on. For all we know Jay could be sitting up in bed right now telling everyone off for making such a fuss about nothing.” Mark couldn’t help but laugh softly at the image.
“I wish I could believe that, Gaz. But if that was really a possibility, then why’d you have us rush all the way back here from Stoke?” Gary swallowed and looked down at his feet.
“Because I want to hear him say the words ‘You’re making too much fuss, get out’...then when he’s told me that, life can go back to normal.” Mark leant his head on Gary’s shoulder.
“Yeah. I think I’d like that too,” he replied.
Jenny Orange had seen her fair share of A&E and arguments. Her boys had never been ones for the quiet life and she had never been one to fall apart in the face of a crisis. But with this mess they seemed to have surpassed themselves. And in the middle of it all stood Howard Donald. Who, she realised as she watched him bracing himself against the wall and raking a hand through his hair, she had come to think of as one of her boys too. Just another son to worry about. She moved towards him swiftly, not really sure whether she was more concerned about what state Jason was in or about how Howard was dealing with it. The difficulty with Jason and Howard was that hurting one could trigger any number of reactions from the other, ranging from vicious anger to utter devastation and everything in between. Howard seemed to flicker along the scale even in the short time it took her to cross the room towards him. The feel of her gentle hand on his arm almost made him jump.
“Howard...” she stopped, her mouth still moving but the words not there for her to offer him. Tears briefly welled up in her eyes as she searched his face for any indication of how Jason was doing, but Howard simply seemed lost. “Justin told me about...Justin said...Howard, how is he?” She was almost whispering now, but Howard still visibly flinched as she spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he managed after a moment, looking down. Jenny took one of his hands in her own and squeezed it firmly.
“Howard Donald, you listen to me; my sons are stubborn and they are foolish and Jason is no better than any of them, ok? What he did and said, he did and said it because he wanted to and it is not your fault, you hear me? Besides, you know him better than anyone, what he did...it makes sense, in a way. Now come on, tell me what it was the doctor told you, ok?” Howard gave her a weak smile for that.
“Thank you.”
“Oh shush. My son adores you, Howard, and there is no one in this world who has done more for him than you. Now come on, be sensible, tell me what’s happening and how we can fix it, ok?” Jenny insisted and for a moment Howard wanted to laugh. She and Jason were so alike sometimes.
“The doctor said they had to do some...I dunno, scans? Tests? I didn’t really...he just said that there didn’t appear to be any broken bones...well, no, he’s fractured a rib, bruised some others but...he said that there was...he was...the cuts were superficial but...he said they found some internal bleeding from the...from the impact. Jay’s in surgery now but...but even if, even when, they get him through that they still don’t know if...” Howard faltered.
“If what?” Jenny was soft but firm, placing her hands on Howard’s shoulders and bringing his gaze to meet hers.
“They think that the head injury could be serious and they need to run some more tests before they can tell us what the real damage might be.” Howard closed his eyes then and Jenny felt tears threaten her own. She drew in a sharp breath and swallowed hard.
“You know, when he was four, he came in from playing with his brothers in the garden with this big gash in his forehead. And I started fretting, thinking I’d have to bring him in to A&E and wondering what to do with the others and if I could trust them to behave for me if I did...and he just looked up at me and he said ‘Mum, don’t worry about me’ and wandered off to clean himself up. He was back outside playing in half an hour.” Jenny glanced back at Howard and sighed, placing her hands either side of his face. “Come on now, don’t cry,” she murmured, though it was too late for that. Howard’s knees buckled and suddenly Jenny found herself supporting his weight, holding his head in her arms and shushing him gently.
Chapter Seven: Tuesday, Early Evening
Howard had been staring at his phone for at least ten minutes and Jenny watched him silently from the other side of the corridor, her brow creased in concern. She had managed to quiet him within minutes, though how much she herself had to do with it she couldn’t be sure. All the shushing in the world might not have been enough on a lesser man – but Howard was far from being a lesser man. Jason had tried to tell her that before now, but she’d found it hard to imagine then, hadn’t been able to help it. Before now all she had ever seen was a soft-hearted daydreamer who mumbled jokes into his chest and melted more easily than butter when her second-born rewarded him with a laugh, or better, a tease. Now, though, she could see something more in him, something that even his bleary eyes and bowed head couldn’t conceal. She saw in him a glimpse of what her son must see.
“Whoever they are, they’ll be more upset if you don’t tell them than if you do.” Howard jumped slightly as Jenny sat down beside him, then smiled tiredly and shook his head.
“You’ve met my daughter, Jenny, you know how much of a drama queen she is,” he sighed and Jenny couldn’t stop a fond smile from tingeing her lips.
“And you’ve met my boys, Howard, you know it takes a lot more than little Gracie to scare me,” she remarked, getting a small chuckle out of Howard.
“Maybe you’re right. I heard Justin on the phone to Oliver before...don’t get me wrong, Jen, I know this day is anything but ordinary, but trying to stop the Orange clan descending on this hospital and demanding to treat Jay themselves isn’t a job I’d wish on anyone.”
“Jay always protected Olly. He was the baby and Simon and Justin weren’t always as kind to him as they should’ve been. Dom and Sam, on the other hand...they didn’t always see the best of Jay, I must admit. I suppose they just knew which buttons to press. When Tony left, at first, all hell broke loose in our house. The boys were always arguing with me – and with each other – and they got at Jay a lot, because he would usually choose to side with me. But after a few years...after a few years they started to appreciate what he did for them a lot more. Simon was the big brother who’d have a laugh with them and get them into trouble, then Jason was the big brother who would get them out of that trouble and fix everything. They think I don’t know some of the things they got up to back then, but I know alright. And I know Jason helped them a lot more often than they deserved.”
“Did Jay tell you?”
“God, no. He wouldn’t break their confidence. And he never wanted to make me worry. But he’s not as clever as he thinks he is,” Jenny said, winking at Howard playfully.
“Yeah, he is a bit of a smart-arse,” Howard joked quietly and there was no fooling Jenny – she could see the affection in his eyes as he spoke.
“Maybe they appreciated what he did a little too much in the end. I know what it cost him to be strong, but they don’t...even though they should.”
“He’s not exactly tried his hardest to make them see.”
“Doesn’t want to relinquish that role of protector I suppose...because I know he enjoyed it. It wasn’t all selfless on his part, he liked being able to be the hero. And he definitely liked knowing he was right! God, Howard I’ve raised such a stubborn, silly lot, haven’t I?”
“Stubborn, maybe. Silly? I s’pose so, sometimes. But they’re not so bad, I don’t think.”
“Mm, you would say that though – you just think I did a good job with Jay!” Jenny said and Howard flashed her a brief grin.
“He’s alright, I guess.”
“From what I’ve heard you think he’s a bit more than alright, Howard Donald.”
“He’s incredible, actually. But please, don’t tell him that.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Jenny chuckled.
“I’m not sure it’s that much of a secret actually,” Howard admitted, looking down and smiling shyly into his chest. There was that soft-hearted daydreamer again, Jenny smiled.
“Well, either way, my boys aren’t all bad. Have they sent me up the walls with worry though? Definitely! Almost every week since they were born,” Jenny sighed, rolling her eyes fondly.
“Yeah, I think I’ve heard my mum say something similar,” Howard said softly and Jenny nodded.
“Then you can tell her from me she didn’t do such a bad job either. You’re a bit of a bruiser, Howard, but that’s what my son loves about you so it’s probably a good thing to have in a person.” Jenny paused and glanced over to where Justin was heading back in through the doors, shoving his phone in his pocket and looking hassled. She looked back at Howard and offered him a small, reassuring smile. “My sons always mean well, Howard. And Justin means well. His jealous streak is wider than the runway at Heathrow but...he never thought anyone would break Jay’s barriers down, thought he had a number one spot reserved at his side for life. And then you came in and...Jay has always been a smiler, Howard, but do you even know what it’s like seeing him with you? It’s him but with confetti and glitter.” Howard laughed slightly and shook his head, flicking his eyes up to Jenny.
“Confetti and glitter?!”
“Yes. You bring him to life, Howard. You take him from bright to dazzling.” Jenny was looking at him so fondly that Howard almost wanted to cry again and he looked away, letting out a long sigh.
“I don’t think it’s always a good thing, Jen. I bring out every single emotion in him, you know? Sometimes that lack of control just scares the hell out of him. He blames me for it. I know he does.”
“Maybe he does.” Jenny agreed, before leaning in closer to Howard, her eyes glittering. “But doesn’t he always forgive you in the morning?” Howard couldn’t help but smile at that. “So, now I’ve got you smiling...think you can call that daughter of yours? I want her to know what’s happening – she is part of our family, as much as Jason is. As much as you are.” Jenny patted Howard’s arm before getting up to leave. Howard waited until the sound of her footsteps had faded before getting up himself and heading outside with his phone.
“Morning.” Jason smiled fondly as he heard the voice on the other end of the line and he glanced up at the clock, raising an eyebrow when he noticed the time.
“It’s five past one, How,” he reminded gently, shaking his head as he moved over to the sofa.
“It’s a relative term, Jay. I was up ‘til five. If I ever take a gig in London on a Saturday night again, will you please have me sectioned?”
“I’ll try my best,” Jason laughed. “So, is that all you called to tell me or are there more pressing things on your mind?” Howard couldn’t hold back the smile that Jason’s playful tone coaxed out of him.
“Actually, I wanted to say thank you to you.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re welcome...but, just in case you’re not, would you care to elaborate?” Jason’s good mood was infectious and the mischievousness in his voice provoked rushes of warmth from Howard which started somewhere in the pit on his stomach and eventually grew into a broad grin the reached into the corners of his face. He lay back on his bed and let out a breath, trying to recover his head and not let Jason distract him too much.
“I just...I wanted to thank you for yesterday. I know I let Grace hijack things at the last minute but...you were brilliant and I just...just, thank you, ok?”
“Don’t be daft, How, it was fine. And anyway, we had fun. Me and Grace have an understanding,” Jason replied with a shrug. Howard had to laugh; something about the truth of the statement took him by surprise. On Saturday, when the party Grace was supposed to be going to had been cancelled unexpectedly, Howard hadn’t been entirely sure about how best to proceed. He had wanted desperately to avoid cancelling his date with Jason, but Grace didn’t have the best track record when it came to spending time with her parents’ dates. But when he had phoned Jason, he hadn’t even hesitated; ‘It’s fine, How. Look, I’ll be round at eleven. Grace can pick where we go and you can hold my hand in public. Sorted. I’ll see you later, ok?’ Howard had been hung up on then, left blinking at his phone, smiling bemusedly. And, sure enough, at eleven o’clock exactly, Jason had pulled up outside Howard’s flat, stopping by where Grace and Howard were waiting for him, shades on, eyes shining out behind them. Grace had run from Howard’s side to greet him and Howard had been forced to let her as he was still on the phone with a potential client at the time. He couldn’t quite concentrate on the rest of the call, however, too concerned with watching Jason and Grace talk, Jason all smiles and eyebrows and Grace all laugher and scrutinising gazes. By the time he had ended his call, Jason had persuaded Grace to get into his car and Howard was anxious about what warzone he might find when he climbed in. That was until he’d taken in the scene the greeted him as he shut the passenger door; Jason turning round in his seat as Grace whispered something to him conspiratorially. Howard looked between the two of them cautiously and slowly Jason glanced back at him, offering him a smile. ‘Apparently we’re off to the zoo. And you’re only allowed to kiss me if you buy Princess here some ice-cream’ Jason had informed Howard brightly before leaning in to steal a kiss. Howard had simply blinked and Jason had bit back a laugh and it was on that note that they’d driven off to spend a day in the sort of harmony that no previous date of his or Vicky’s could have dreamed of. Howard had been amazed; perhaps his daughter hadn’t been the one driving those dates away in the past, perhaps it was just fate, because with Jason she was positively angelic. And Jason, for his part, was saintly.
“I still don’t know what you said to her, Jay, but you are up there somewhere with her favourite pop-star and the puppy her mum won’t let her have in the popularity stakes. Seriously, I’m guessing some sort of medal is in the post,” Howard admitted down the phone, making Jason laugh softly, if a little shyly. “Look, Jay, I know nothing I say will make you believe it but...you’re something else, the way you just open up to her and you’re just fine with her being around and...just don’t feel like you have to lie to me that it’s ok, because I won’t think any less of you if it’s not ok. Because you did such a good job of not letting her know it wasn’t ok and that’s made her so happy. So just...thank you.”
“Howard,” Jason’s voice was gentle and, though there was a trace of smile behind it, Howard could feel the seriousness of his plea.
“What?”
“Stop apologising and stop thanking me. It’s fine. Your daughter and you are both fine with me. More than fine, actually, if you really want to know. And no, I’m not lying, I promise.” Howard paused a moment. The bubbling up of warmth and gratitude within him had caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure he could keep it under control – if he spoke too soon, every emotion would come spilling out and he would scare Jason away for sure. He let out a breath.
“It was our third date, Jay...” he reminded him tentatively, but he could almost hear Jason rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, but you and me don’t really date, do we? We just...keep turning up unannounced and hoping for the best.” And Jason had him there. Because, although the previous day had only been their third pre-organised date, the two of them had ended up seeing each other at least twice a week, every week, for the past two months. Howard spent hours at the shop, messing with the drum kit and distracting Jason with his jokes. And as for Jason...he had developed the habit of turning up at Howard’s gigs. Always unannounced, always just to show Howard he cared. He’d out-dance the entire rest of the club and Howard would pull him up into the DJ booth and Jason would lean into his ear and tell him things that would make him laugh – or blush, depending how much Jason had had to drink. “Besides, I got to hold your hand all the way around the penguin enclosure. If that’s not romance then I don’t know what is, Donald.” Jason’s voice shook Howard from his thoughts and he laughed, because Jason’s obsession with the little things – the stolen moments and the casual gestures – always made him chuckle. He found it sweet that there was someone out there in the world who, for all his flirtation (and despite the way he danced), placed more value in a held hand or shared joke than in a heady tumble onto the sheets. It was something that charmed Howard, because, if he was honest, low-key was a passion of his.
“Well I can’t argue with you there,” Howard said softly.
“No, you definitely can’t. There are people in this world who have never held their boyfriend’s hand whilst anywhere near a penguin. And besides, I’m always right,” Jason replied.
“You’re ridiculous,” Howard grinned.
“Sure I am, but you wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t.” Howard blushed and, somehow, he knew that Jason knew. “So stop thanking me and I’ll see you at the shop on Monday maybe?”
“I guess so...I mean, I probably shouldn’t be thanking you at all anyway...” Howard paused and waited for Jason’s curiosity to get the better of him.
“Why’s that then?” Jason laughed, happy to take the bait.
“Well, when I drove Grace to her mum’s last night she told me what she’s going to be when she grows up...”
“Go on...” Jason pressed and Howard grinned.
“I was hoping for a lawyer or a doctor...”
“Of course,” Jason smirked.
“But instead she’d got it narrowed down between two things: a penguin-tamer or owning her own ice-cream factory, she’s just not sure which. And you know what, Jay? It’s definitely all your fault!”
Howard got through to Vicky on the third attempt, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether he might have hung up again if it hadn’t been for the confused ‘Howard?’ she had let out into the silence. He rubbed his hand over his face and leant against the wall, trying to work out what was best to say. For a moment all he did was watch the rain. Was it raining where Vicky and Grace were too? He didn’t know why it mattered. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.
“Hey, Vicky.”
“Howard, what’s the matter?”
“ Listen I...I’ve managed to get the word round to a few people now and I don’t want Grace finding out from anyone else so...so can you...can you tell her, for me, not to worry, but Jay’s had an accident and...and he’s in the hospital and they don’t...don’t tell her this bit but they don’t know for sure if he’s going to be ok yet. I just...I need her to know that something has happened but I don’t want her to know how bad it is because...because even I can’t process how bad this is and I don’t want her to have to be thinking...thinking the worst.” Howard closed his eyes more tightly in an effort to stop any more tears forming in his already sore eyes.
“Oh, Howard,” Vicky whispered and Howard wished she hadn’t.
“Please, don’t...don’t say anything, Vick, I just...just please tell her not to panic and that I’ll call her in the morning and...”
“She adores him, How, she’s going to be devastated...don’t you think you should maybe...”
“No, Vicky. Because if she hears one word from me right now...then she’ll know. She’ll know how bad it is and she will not let me tell her to stay with you because she will want to be here. And she can’t be here. Jay is a hero to her, and I don’t want her seeing him this way.”
“What’s French for break-dancer?” Jason looked up from the dishes and frowned.
“French for break-dancer?!” he repeated and at that Howard glanced away from his laptop.
“Why would you need to know that?” he asked and Grace rolled her eyes theatrically, pulling herself up to sit at the breakfast bar and chucking her exercise book down in front of her.
“We have to write about our families for French homework and I’m trying to say something about Jay which is going to make stupid Annabelle Mann jealous when we read it out in class,” she explained. Jason chuckled and shook his head, turning back to the dishes.
“I thought Sophie was your only sworn enemy at school?”
“Yeah, but Annabelle’s top of the class in French and everyone always raves about how fascinating the things she writes about her family are. But I think I’m more interesting than her,” Grace said, smiling slightly mischievously. Howard chuckled.
“Of course you do.”
“Actually, I think Jay’s more interesting, to be precise. And you can’t disagree with me dad coz everyone in this room will know you’re lying.”
“She’s got you there, How,” Jason smiled, glancing over at Howard, his eyes twinkling playfully. Howard grinned, winking back at him.
“Stop flirting and help me,” Grace sighed, making both of them laugh. Jason pushed himself away from the counter and came over to the breakfast bar to peer at her exercise book.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I think your French skills are already way beyond mine. I can make you a hot chocolate though, you think that would help?” Grace beamed at Jason broadly.
“Thank you, Jay.”
“My pleasure, Gracie.”
Justin was the first to spot Mark and Gary’s arrival, giving them a sombre nod as they made their way across the room. Howard then glanced up and Mark immediately noticed how red his eyes looked. A bolt of fear ran through him and he began to chew on his lip anxiously. Gary, however, was reassured by how squarely Howard held his shoulders, impressed by the energy it must be taking him not to keel right over on the hospital floor. Jenny was standing with Howard’s arm around her shoulders and she was the only one to outright smile at Mark and Gary. She had always had an enormous amount of affection for Gary, whilst Mark was almost universally loved, and something about seeing the two of them allowed her to forget the circumstances.
“I’m glad you came,” she said softly, reaching out an arm to invite Gary into a brief hug.
“Jay and Dougie are our brothers, we had to be here,” he told her sincerely, glancing at Howard, who gave him a sad but grateful smile.
“Gaz...” he faltered, his eyes pleading with Gary to understand. Gary gave him a small shrug, his lips curving upwards slightly.
“The rain’s easing off...won’t be long now,” he said and Howard’s smile widened for a moment in gratitude. The statement shouldn’t have made sense, but to Howard it did and he found a new burst of strength from it, even if he suspected it to be a lie. After all, Gary and Mark were drenched.
“We would’ve been here sooner but we had to drop our bags at home and then by the time we set out again it was rush hour. I’ve been going mad with worrying...Jay would be proud,” Mark said with a quiet laugh and Howard chuckled sadly.
“Guess he’s exacting a little revenge on us,” he sighed.
“Do you know anything yet? Justin said a car lost control?” Gary asked. Howard visibly shuddered and Justin felt another tingle of guilt creeping up his skin. He thought back to the things he had said to Jason that afternoon and he suddenly doubted his own words. Jason was stubborn, but even he had his limits. If a cause wasn’t worth fighting for, then, at some point, Jason would stop fighting for it. But Jason had been fighting for Howard for years now, unwaveringly. And here Howard was, returning the favour. Justin was beginning to question his interpretation of every action, trying to trace the line back and work out when it had first begun, but his brain was too full of the image of his twin lying out on the damp Manchester tarmac.
“The doctors can only talk to Howard and mum but...but apparently they said he was bleeding internally when they brought him in,” Justin murmured. Howard closed his eyes.
“He should be out of surgery by now,” he put in.
“They were going to do some more scans, to make sure there’s nothing they’ve missed. They were worried there might be brain injuries they didn’t pick up on before...when they spotted the bleeding that had to take priority,” Jenny explained. Gary noticed how pale her usually smiling face was and he felt a wave of queasiness come over him. All those words – they’d only ever heard them before on television or in films, and then it hadn’t mattered how harsh and unpleasant they sounded, because then they weren’t real. But now they were too real and they were trying to attach themselves to Jason. It was a hideous thought and Gary shuddered. Brilliant, bright, stubborn, silly Jason. A man who, as Gary knew him, was too alive for cold words. Mark linked his arm through Gary’s and buried his face in the crook of his neck.
“Poor Jay,” he whispered, conveying a lot more than he actually had said.
“But if everything looks ok, if they don’t pick anything up...” Justin offered up hopefully.
“They’re hoping to try and bring him round. But whether he comes to or...or how the trauma to his head will have affected him...” Howard trailed off and shook his head slightly. There were possibilities, endless possibilities, and he didn’t like them. Every word the doctors said seemed ambiguous. Every moment that passed was loaded with doubt and every time the doctors shared a glance or took a breath, the air became imbued with yet more waves of that hideous uncertainty. But then, he supposed he should know by now, nothing can really be depended upon, can it? You know this story, Howard. He hated trying to stare down the rain.
It was raining, the water tip-tapping on the glass of the bedroom window. All that water, gathering in puddles up and down the city, lapping at the corners of Howard’s life. The movies got everything wrong; the end of the world would not come with a bang, it would come with a pitter-pat. He turned over in the bed and the sheets rustled. The space was so vast and he couldn’t fill it alone. He and Jason had filled this space. Together they could fill whole rooms, never mind this bed. There was a picture somewhere of the two of them in this bed and they filled up the frame. A picture taken as a joke when Howard got his new camera, the two of them laughing and fighting underneath the sheets some summer morning. It lit up behind Howard’s eyelids every time he tried to sleep. But now everything was all pitter-pattered instead. And, sure enough; pitter-pat went the rain against the window. Howard swallowed some emotion or other which was too dry to consist of actual tears, and he tried not to crumple the note that he still held in his hands. If I close my eyes, if I close my eyes...he repeated the words under his breath. If I close my eyes, I’ll dream a little deeper. Slowly he pulled the sheet up over his head and he felt, just for a second, a little less alone. You are always on my mind for life – yes, Howard knew that feeling.
Chapter Eight: Tuesday, Late Evening
Howard watched the hospital car-park turn a shimmery orange as the Manchester clouds drew a curtain of drizzle across the darkening sky. Blurry outlines of people moved back and forth, briefly being illuminated by the streetlamps before disappearing off into the wetness of the city. He’d come outside to be alone, but now that he was here with only his thoughts for company he was starting to remember just how much he’d always hated being alone. He was bad at relationships but he was worse at being alone, tending to find unwise distractions, or else simply spiral off, unchecked, away from the world. Perhaps it was something which he could only really appreciate about himself now, with the benefit of seeing just what strength he was really capable of when he actually tried. He had spent so much of his life hiding out, thinking maudlin things about the world. And yes, when he was younger, there had been drugs and drink and people he shouldn’t have been friends with all employed in attempts to distract him from such loneliness, and as he grew up a bit he had turned to plans that he didn’t think all the way through. But, thankfully, he’d always managed to keep himself away from the cliff-edge, just about. For Grace’s sake alone sometimes, other times because he was old enough to realise he was wallowing more than any man should. He had continued to stumble but survive. And then he’d found Jason Orange. A man walking that same precarious line who placed all his trust in him to keep the two of them safely on the path. But maybe, Howard wondered to himself now, walking that line together was proving more dangerous than anything that had gone before. Howard shivered and pulled the sleeves of his hoody down further over his hands then flicked his cigarette lighter and watched the flame a moment. This is why he shouldn’t be left alone. His thoughts did strange dances when he was alone. How was it Jason’s thoughts always followed their choreography so well?
He was aware of Justin walking towards him, but he didn’t look up to acknowledge him, not even as he slid down the wall to sit beside him on the ground. Both men seemed keen to preserve the silence, their eyes on the car-park and the rain and never on each other. Justin drew his knees up to his chest in a mirror of Howard’s pose and the silence went on, broken only when footsteps splish-splashed through the puddles around them. They watched a doctor trying to surreptitiously light a cigarette without his patients seeing. Howard flicked his lighter one more time.
“It was never really about you,” Justin murmured at last. Howard wiped the corner of his eye with his sleeve and sniffed back a few lingering tears before risking a glance over to his husband’s twin. Justin didn’t have the same smile-etched cheeks that Jason did, but those eyes were the same, glinting in the semi-darkness in a way that Howard found reassuringly familiar.
“Now isn’t the time,” he sighed, offering his cigarette packet out to Justin. They were Mark’s cigarettes really. When Howard had asked, Mark had handed them to him without comment, his eyes sympathetic. Even Gary hadn’t judged him for it. But that didn’t stop Howard judging himself. Justin took a cigarette and Howard passed him the lighter. They didn’t look at each other, instead keeping their vigil over the rain. Howard leant his head back against the wall and Justin took a drag on his cigarette.
“You knew him better than me,” he said quietly. Howard frowned, looking over at Justin from the corner of his eye.
“What?”
“You knew him better. You were the only one to...I was pissed off because you knew him better.”
“Justin, I don’t know what...”
“I thought he was dead. That year, the stuff with Emily...he was missing and I thought he was dead. And you knew he wasn’t. You had the kind of faith in him that I should’ve had, the faith that he wouldn’t do that to any of us. And you had the kind of instinctive knowledge that...that I used to have with him. You just...knew. Like we used to. Me and him...we always used to know...” Justin shook his head sadly and closed his eyes, blowing smoke out into the air as Howard watched him. “I wanted to blame you because blaming you was easier. I wanted you to be the bad guy, I wanted you to have stolen my twin off me by force rather than...rather than me just losing him.” Howard bit his lip, squirming uncomfortably, suddenly desperate to get out of this damp air. He remembered so much, too much, and the memories were choking him. Justin glanced over to him, his blue eyes teary. “We took him for granted. That he’d always be there. He’s Jay, he’s strong Jay. When crappy things happen to us, he’ll be there making daft jokes and giving advice that we’ll ignore and he’s just always going to be invincible and if ever he does need anyone then obviously it’s going to be us.”
“And then I came along.”
“And then you came along,” Justin echoed, letting out a hollow chuckle. “You made him better, you know? You bring out his colours more. I mean...I don’t ever bring up the good stuff but I know it’s there. I know he’s more relaxed now, I know he’s happier in his own skin, he doesn’t worry so much. There’s part of my brain that recognises how much you’ve brought out his smile but...I guess that sometimes I saw all that stuff as the bad stuff too. Because he wasn’t just our rock anymore. He exposed a vulnerability. He fell in love and he fell apart over it sometimes and...and he didn’t seem as in control as he always used to seem. Maybe on some level we all felt bitter. Maybe we’re all bitter because...you’re always going to know him better. You’re probably the only one who will ever know everything. For Dad...I guess for him it’s hard because he already lost Jay before. And for the rest of us...I s’pose we all just thought we were the rightful people to come in and save the day, when the day finally came that he needed saving anyway. But in the end you were the only one he could write that note to. You were the only one he knew could understand him on that level, on the level where you would know the real meaning. He figured you knew him best. And we all proved him right. I didn’t believe in him...and he knew I wouldn’t. So he believed in you. And you came through. You always come through.” Justin stubbed out his cigarette and rested his chin on his knees and Howard turned his eyes back to the rain. For a while they sat in silence again, Howard playing with the ends of his sleeves and Justin digging his nails into his palms.
“It’s not as selfless as you make it sound, Justin. Sometimes I think I have to believe in him. I have to because half the time I don’t really believe in myself. I don’t have that confidence in me, not really. He gave it to me, he put it there and he sustains it. I can pretend but...I’m just...I dunno. Shy? I’d never really tried to be anything more than that bloke in the background because I didn’t think it was worth it. I didn’t want to be out in the world, I just wanted to get by, to just about survive in no particular style. Until I met Jay...and suddenly, there was this bloke who thought I hung the moon.” Justin smiled softly then, looking over at Howard and meeting his eyes.
“Jay can do that...something about the way he thinks about the world. He sees things other people miss and he thinks about them in ways other people don’t.”
“He saw me the way I didn’t, I know that much. And he made me laugh and...and he even laughed at my jokes. And I know my jokes are crap but he laughed. He looked at me like he saw something good there. He believed in a strength I didn’t even know I had and...and sometimes I think I don’t really have it at all, I just have this...reflected glory. The strength’s all his and he’s just loaning it to me.” Howard knew he was crying now but Justin pretended not to see and the two men stared resolutely at the rain. A gaggle of nurses giggled off into the night, squealing as the rain got heavier and fighting over a single polka-dot umbrella. Justin found it funny that those same women had been in amidst a fray of life-or-death for hours and yet they still managed to laugh at the rain. What he wouldn’t give to be able to shrug off this downpour. But the rain knew him and Howard too well.
“I’m sorry, Howard,” Justin whispered at last and Howard wiped at his eyes self-consciously.
Their bodies were still thrumming with music and alcohol and laughter as they made it to the apartment door. Howard tried to keep up the contact between them and Jason dodged and teased, opening the door and casting a sparkling glance over his shoulder. By the time Jason was tossing his keys down on the coffee table with an unprovoked chuckle, Howard was kicking the apartment door closed, his eyes still alive as they followed Jason’s body. Jason moved like a dancer, every motion drawing the eye to him and Howard watched with a smile as Jason closed his eyes and stretched himself out, a flash of stomach being exposed as his shirt rode up. His spine curved in an elegant line as he let out a low groan and Howard could hardly resist.
“God, I’m getting too old for this.” Jason’s voice was low and soft as Howard came up behind him, wrapping an arm around his middle and pressing a kiss into the crook of his neck. Jason moaned slightly at his touch, feeling Howard’s hand move under his shirt as he pulled him closer.
“You’d better not be, coz if you’re too old then what does that make me?” Howard spoke gruffly, kissing Jason behind his ear and then on his cheek as the two of them fell slowly down onto the sofa. Jason was laughing again at that, twisting in Howard’s embrace and wrapping his arms around his neck to respond with kisses of his own. “What are you laughing at Orange?” Howard grinned, his eyes playful as he attempted to cuff Jason around the head, Jason grabbing hold of his arm and wrestling him for control. Still laughing, they both play-fought, Jason kicking his legs out in a weak protest as Howard overpowered him, slowly pushing Jason back to lie down against the cushions. For a moment he held himself up, looking down at Jason with glinting eyes. In the darkness of the apartment, Jason’s smile was dazzling and Howard raised his eyebrows in one final challenge. Getting Jason to admit defeat was never easy, but Howard was confident he could do it.
“You win, you win, please just behave yourself and lie down, old man,” Jason laughed and Howard chuckled, lowering his body down against Jason’s, kissing his neck again. Jason half-heartedly swotted him away, but the objection was hard to take seriously when Howard could feel the pressure of his own body relaxing the muscles of Jason’s. Howard pulled back to meet Jason’s eyes again and in response Jason ran his knuckles along Howard’s stubble-covered cheek, tender and fond. Howard could see a mistiness in his blue eyes that told him Jason was perhaps too tired or too fuzzy from the alcohol to fight off his teases any longer. All Jason wanted was to be held, safely and without comment. Silently Howard placed a kiss to Jason’s forehead and moved his body around so he could wrap his arms around his waist. Jason smiled tiredly, his eyes closing as he turned himself into Howard’s chest, tucking his head sleepily under Howard’s chin. Howard reached out one arm to grab the throw from the back of the sofa and he pulled it around the two of them and Jason let out a small, contented sigh.
“Anyone else and I wouldn’t let them call me old man, just so you know,” Howard whispered. Jason’s lips twitched up, but he didn’t open his eyes.
The two men lay that way for a while, not speaking, and Howard almost thought Jason had already gone to sleep when his thoughts finally broke out from his head and into the silence.
“For the record, How, it makes you amazing.”
“What?” Howard frowned, looking down at Jason in confusion, slightly surprised at the interruption to the peace. Jason’s eyes were still closed but he was smiling slightly.
“If I’m old, what does that make you. It makes you amazing. I’ve always thought that. There’s no nastiness in you, How. Just music and kindness and loyalty. And a total inability to think half as highly of yourself and you should,” Jason mumbled, his voice rough as though he were talking in his sleep. But Howard knew Jason was awake, could feel his heart beating just that little bit too quickly.
“I’m nothing special, just a bloke,” Howard replied quietly, looking up at the ceiling. Jason smiled sleepily at Howard’s humble denial.
“No. You’re made of steel, Donald, you just don’t know it.” Jason’s whisper was slightly slurred, as though he were drifting off, but Howard still felt every word.
It was a few weeks later before Howard proposed, but he still had always considered that night to be the night Jason had given him permission to ask.
It was Gary who was sent to make sure Howard and Justin hadn’t torn each other to pieces, and he was only mildly alarmed when he found Howard sitting by himself outside. He was used to finding Howard lost in thought, however. It was a sight which had become like wallpaper at the shop. When the four of them met up, if there was going to be anyone not paying attention then it would be Howard – weekends spent at Jason and Howard apartment usually saw Mark and Jason bounce off each other the most, the two of them sparking back and forth whilst Howard simply sat on the floor in front of the sofa, his head resting against Jason’s legs as he let his mind wander. Of course, usually Howard’s daydreams ended with a joke, or at the very least a play-fight with Jason. But today Howard was lost to the rain and Gary could almost pick out the patterns it was making across Howard’s startling blue eyes. He wondered, briefly, when it was that Howard had become so close to the rain. As his friend, shouldn’t he have noticed sooner? It never rains round here, but it pours – someone had said that to him the day he’d first moved into Oldham Street, he remembered now. He’d laughed it off at the time, but looking back on recent years maybe he should’ve heeded the warning. But then where would any of them be? For all their faults, the four of them were better off together than they ever were apart. Though today seemed to be trying its best to split them. Gary shuddered slightly, coming over to sit on the ground next to Howard. The whites of Howard’s eyes were pinkish, Gary noticed, but he still glanced over and offered something close to a smile.
“Let me guess – Jenny sent you out here to make sure me and Justin hadn’t killed each other?” he asked, sniffing slightly and looking down. Gary laughed softly.
“She’s just worried about you, it’s been almost an hour the two of you have been out here.”
“Yeah, well...I don’t think she’s got too much to worry about any more,” Howard murmured, letting out a long breath. Gary raised an eyebrow.
“Really? Coz I’m not seeing Justin round here anywhere...” he pointed out and Howard let out a small laugh, shrugging slightly.
“I didn’t hide the body, if that’s what you’re implying, Barlow. His twin brother is in hospital, I think he just needed some...room to think.”
“And you two are really ok? Just like that?”
“Maybe...I don’t know. We’ve probably got as close as we’re ever going to get to being ok with each other. The problem is...I’m always going to be the guy who replaced him. You’re just lucky Mark’s not a twin,” Howard sighed, running his hand through his hair. Gary smiled sadly and leant his head back, watching the rain a moment.
“Mark is a twin, in his own way. His own, much more complicated way. And trust me, you don’t even want to try dealing with that.” Howard looked over at Gary then, his eyes kind.
“You met with Rob today?” he asked gently and Gary nodded. “God. I don’t know how you do it Gaz, I really don’t.”
“Do what?”
“Stay standing. Rob this morning, Jay this afternoon...”
“There’s plenty of people who’d say you were the strong one,” Gary pointed out and Howard shook his head, suddenly looking down and squirming under Gary’s gaze.
“Jay says that. But Jay’s not always right about everything.” Gary frowned slightly, unsure what Howard meant, but he decided to let it be. Howard bit his lip and raised his eyes to the rain once more. “I take it the thing with Rob didn’t go well?” Gary flinched slightly at Howard’s question.
“I could’ve done with Jay or you in there, he’s always calmer with you two.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing...well, not nothing but...it’s not important. Not now, not after what’s happened to Jay.”
“It’s important to you though.”
“But it shouldn’t be. Jay is like a brother to me...you are like a brother to me. Rob is...just someone I would’ve liked to have got to know.” Gary swallowed and closed his eyes and for a minute he and Howard sat in silence, listening to the rain on the pavement and remembering sunnier days. There had been a time when everything had been so calm and so quiet. And the sun did shine. Brief months which were slowly getting washed away.
“What did he throw at you?” Howard asked softly. Gary smiled faintly in response.
“Everything. Mark, music...a fist, almost. But the less said about that the better.”
“And which bit got to you the most?”
“How much it was hurting Mark,” Gary admitted quietly. Howard’s lips quirked.
“Yeah. I know that feeling.”
Mark found Justin. He slipped outside after Gary, needing to surround himself with someone else’s problems in the hope of forgetting his own, and for a little while he wandered the hospital car-park, hardly aware of the rain soaking through his jacket, plastering his hair to his head. There weren’t too many people around, considering that it was a summer night in the heart of the city, and briefly Mark could entertain the idea that he was dreaming, that this city wasn’t really his city at all, just some horrible nightmarish version of it where nothing went the way it should. It was the sight of a lone figure, sitting at a bus-stop across the road, that changed Mark’s mind. This was his city after all, whether he liked it or not. And they were all trapped in it with him, getting soaked to the skin.
Mark dashed across the road, his feet making loud splashing sounds in the vast puddles that covered it, but still Justin hardly registered the smaller man’s arrival. Mark sat down next to him, joining him in his wordlessness, scuffing his shoes on the pavement and trying not to think.
“I think I’m smoking your cigarettes,” Justin remarked softly at last. Mark could only just hear him over the sound of the rain, but he smiled sadly and shrugged.
“What’s it even matter,” he replied. Justin let out a sigh.
“I can’t decide if everything matters or nothing anymore.” Mark glanced at Justin thoughtfully, his eyes glittering slightly in the lamplight, and he realised that perhaps that one sentence summed it up. Did everything matter more now, or did nothing matter? After everything that had happened to them...Mark swallowed back a wave of tears and looked away.
“I know what you mean...I know it sounds like I’m just saying that but...I’m not. I know how you’re feeling because...it’s how I feel too.” Justin looked up, his brow furrowing. “So many things have been said and done, everything has gone back and forth a hundred times and you want to just burn your bridges and be damned. But then you think about the person...the person you’re trying to be angry at. And you know that you’ve made mistakes too, everyone makes mistakes, how’s it fair to hold it against one person and not another? So you think twice about burning those bridges you’re crossing over, because you start to wonder if you’re doing it just to watch the firelight – which will sooth you for a little while...until it’s gone...and then you’ll have lost something you can never get back.” Mark sniffed and closed his eyes and for a minute or two he and Justin sat, absorbed in their own thoughts, the sound of the rain on the roof of the bus-shelter roaring in their ears.
“I know Jay’s not perfect...but I think, a lot of the time, I build him up to be in my head. Me and...and maybe all of us. Because we needed him to be perfect, so that he could make all our imperfections go away. And even though I know that, even though it’s starting to sink in just how long I’ve been going on with this rubbish...I still can’t wrap my head around why he’s not...he’s not the way he used to be. Or the way I used to think he was. And I can’t work out why him and me aren’t the way we used to be with each other...I really don’t want that to be something I let happen to us.”
“I guess life just changes people, Justin, you know? And the people who know the whole story, the people who understand all that cause and effect and everything...they’re the ones we keep the closest to us.”
“So what, Howard understands my twin’s life experiences better than me?”
“Maybe.”
“Mark...”
“Justin, hear me out, don’t get angry coz it’s not got us anywhere so far has it?” Mark murmured and Justin closed his mouth, looking away and blinking back a fresh onslaught of tears. “All I’m saying is that...Howard’s just been through so much with him. And then Jay’s probably told him the rest. Me and Gaz sort of noticed it happening, you know? Jay started getting more...bright. And on some level both of us must’ve realise that it was Howard who brought that out in him, by sharing the weight of his secrets with him, I suppose. And loving him despite those secrets too.”
“I just don’t know why he’s done this, Mark...the thing with his medical records I mean, this only telling Howard and mum business...why would he do that?”
“You said it yourself, Justin, Jay’s not perfect. I think...I think he was scared more than he’d admit to any of us, not just by what happened with Emily but by how the people he cared about reacted to it. By how they reacted to Howard despite everything Howard has done for him. So...he was hurting and...when you hurt imperfect people then...then sometimes they hurt you too.”
They were taking a break from writing and Howard and Gary had been sent out to get food, leaving Jason to make the tea. It was a bank holiday and the shop was peaceful, the only sounds that could be heard were the floorboards creaking softly underfoot and the clink of teaspoons coming from the backroom. A car trundled down Oldham Street and Mark yawned and Robbie paced and for a while it felt like they had always lived like this. Mark couldn’t remember the last day he hadn’t seen Robbie, couldn’t remember the last day he hadn’t helped Howard with a lyric or hummed a melody to Gary. He couldn’t remember the last time Robbie hadn’t told a joke and he hadn’t laughed.
“Do you remember when we were young?” Robbie’s voice was only a little above a whisper and for a moment Mark wondered if it was just another of those background noises of the shop, to be co-existed with but not acknowledged. But then he felt Robbie’s blue eyes watching him and he looked up, his eyebrows quirked slightly.
“When we were young? You mean when it was just you and me?”
“Yeah...when it was just you and me,” Robbie agreed, suddenly seeming shy, his eyes glancing away.
“Of course I do. We had some good times, you and me,” Mark agreed, a little uncertain as to where the conversation was going but, for some reason, sensing danger ahead.
“We’d go for weeks and every day would be how we dreamed.”
“I don’t know about that, Rob...we never understood the cost of our actions or...”
“I know but...it felt good, didn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
“You want to know what I think?” A third voice interrupted. Both Robbie and Mark turned their heads. Jason was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the piano room, three mugs of tea in his hands, his blue eyes seeming both kind and firm as he looked between the two men.
“Jay, I was just...” Robbie began to explain but Jason gave him a knowing smile, those eyes of his all aglitter, and Robbie promptly closed his mouth.
“You were just...?” Jason’s grin was mischievous and Robbie smiled back at him shyly. Jason nodded slightly before moving to distribute the tea. “It feels good, being with Howard. Every day, there’s at least one moment where I think that that feeling of contentment is just...life, in its entirety. But it’s not really, is it? It’s the bit that keeps you going through life, but life itself? It’s messy and it doesn’t always make sense. And when I was growing up I learnt that, one way and another, so I guess that makes it easier for me to remember it. But we all learn it at some point, we just have to suck it up and deal with it, don’t you think?”
“What if the thing that gave you that contentment...what if it’s not the same? What if something happens and it’s altered forever?” Robbie asked. Mark’s head snapped round and he was sure that both Robbie and Jason noticed it, though neither acknowledged it. Jason simply settled himself down in the chair in the corner, clearly mulling over Robbie’s question, tapping his fingers against his mug.
“I thought that had happened when my dad left. I thought ‘That’s it, game over’. And then I worked out that helping my mum and my brothers...I enjoyed it.”
“And that was enough?” Robbie asked. Mark felt the tea burning his tongue but he took a massive gulp all the same, his eyes looking anywhere but at Robbie. He could see Jason glance at him briefly but he refused to meet the gaze. Jason sighed.
“I thought it was. Maybe I never would have thought any different if I’d never met Howard. And since Howard..well, you know the rest. As for this messed up, screwed up world that keeps throwing shit at us all the time...I will keep shouting at it that I love Howard until it listens to me. Because I will be with him, I will fight for him. And I will keep screaming and fighting and holding on for as long as it takes.” Jason looked down into his tea, suddenly seeming to realise just how honest he was being. Robbie looked over at Mark then and for a moment their eyes met.
“That sounded like an invitation,” Robbie whispered. Jason looked up at him, his eyes suddenly stern. The gaze was so pointed that Robbie was forced to look away from Mark – Jason had a way of commanding a gaze when he needed it, something about playing the role of Big Brother for so much of his life.
“Don’t take it that way, Rob. Coz the other thing I know for sure? I will keep fighting for Howard, always, no matter what anyone tells me. Unless...unless Howard’s the one telling me to stop. If he says stop...I’d put up a struggle, sure. But eventually, I’d have to let him go.” Jason stared Robbie down for a moment and Mark looked between the two of them in stunned silence. Robbie glanced over then, flashing him a brief, sad smile then looking down at his hands.
“You’ve got a way with words, Jay, you know that?” Mark asked softly and Jason laughed.
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“Bleeding but not leaving...maybe that’s a lesson I should learn. Accept the shitty stuff because there’s good things coming out of it.” Robbie sighed. The corner of Jason’s lips quirked up and he leant conspiratorially over to where Mark was perched on a piano stool.
“Looks like the innocents are starting to get over being old at last,” he chuckled and Mark smiled.
“Innocents? Rob and me?”
“Er, old? Less of that, you’re the old man in this room!” Robbie grinned at the same time, a little mischief returning to his eyes. Mark laughed brightly, his eyes lighting up with similar waywardness.
“Yeah, but look on the bright side, Jay, at least none of us are as old as your husband!” He’d ducked away from the cushion Jason threw at him.
“Mark Owen, you will pay for that,” Jason had sighed with a fond roll of his eyes. The punishment had never come though, and it wasn’t long before Howard and Gary had returned with Tesco sticky buns for all.
Robbie half-stumbled down the slope, swinging a bottle of vodka in one hand. The ponies watched him with their dark eyes and Rob muttered something at them about judgement and Mark Owen and life not being fair before meandering away from them for a while before slipping and skidding on the gravel. He was halfway down the pathway, the Britannia looming over him, some poster of a player stretching up one side. The player’s eyes followed Robbie as he swayed on the spot and slowly Robbie looked back up to meet the poster’s gaze. It struck him then that there wasn’t a single soul between him and those looming eyes, hardly a bird in the sky, never mind souls on the pathways. It was so quiet out here – sometimes, in the summer months, after the end of the last football season and before the start of the next, standing on this hill could make you feel like half the city had upped and left. Maybe half the city had. It wasn’t far from here that they were selling off derelict houses for a pound, after all. Robbie shivered; he didn’t cope well with loneliness, it terrified him and the mixture of the fear and the alcohol was making him feel sick. The wind was getting stronger and he could feel spots of rain on his face, mingling with tears he hadn’t realised he was crying.
“What am I doing?” he asked no one at all, his head dropping dejectedly. But no signs fell from heaven, no voices came from the sky, and Robbie closed his eyes, feeling his legs give under him. “What the fuck am I doing?” he mumbled into his chest. “Does anyone know? Do I even know?!” The pebbles beneath him were cold and they dug into the backs of his thighs, but he hardly even winced. “I finally had it good and I chucked it in. Coz I got scared. And coz I saw that my old life really had finally got away from me forever...which scared me even more.” Robbie rubbed a hand over his face. “I always chuck things in just because I get fucking scared.” He rubbed the tears from his cheeks and shook his head. “I’m an idiot. I’m such an idiot,” he whispered, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead against them.
He didn’t know why he was crying anymore. He couldn’t pretend that it was Gary Barlow’s fault, not now. He tried to untangle it all, trying to extricate the real emotion from the booze, but it was too difficult, too many mistakes and words and too much history to try to understand. He should have trusted them, he should’ve trusted them all. After all, Mark had always believed in him. He’d stood by Robbie through drugs and tears and insults and blows, always having faith in him. And yet Robbie had done nothing but let him down. Howard was less trusting, understandably. But he always tried. He always offered a joke and a smile. And then there was Gary...had he imagined it, or had him and Gary actually had a laugh sometimes? Had him and Gary even...no...they hadn’t actually understood each other? Had they?
And of course...there was Jason too. Robbie had to squeeze his eyes even tighter shut as he thought of Jason. God, Robbie hoped he was alright. He needed him to be alright. If he’d been sober at the time, and not fighting and yelling after Gary to the last, then he would have asked what was going on, would’ve asked to go with them, would’ve told them to keep him informed, something. Because Robbie had come to love Jason and not knowing if he was ok was awful, a hideous feeling that Robbie realised was making him feel even worse than he already did. The first few days the five of them had spent together, he and Jason had clashed, and they still fought from time to time, just differing points of view and nothing more – Jason was usually the one to decide they were being childish and make peace, something Robbie tried not to feel too guilty for. But Robbie had realised, in time, that everything Jason did was to look after him. The Perpetual Big Brother, Mark called him, and Robbie had come to appreciate that for what it was; a tender gesture from someone who really owed him nothing. After a while he started to let Jason just talk to him, about anything and everything, and he had learned just how much he loved to listen to him ramble. He hated to think what Jason would say to him if he were there in that moment. Robbie Williams, drunk and crying on a hill in Stoke-on-Trent, hardly noticing the rain.
Rob drew in a shaky breath and sniffed, raising his head. He had to know if Jason was ok. The realisation hit him with such clarity that he almost felt sober, until a wave of nausea crept up on him and he had to swallow hard to fight it. He had to know if Jason was ok. He had to know if Mark was ok. He had to know if he could fix the damage he’d done. And he knew there was only one person who would have a level enough head to talk to him. He reached for his phone and found the number; ‘Barlow Mobile’. He hit the call button and held his breath.
Chapter Nine: Tuesday, Late, And Dark Out For Summer
Doctor Whelan was a tall man, all broad shoulders and strong jaw-line. He had dark hair and dark eyes and a tone of voice that could make even the most dramatic of situations seem like a warm summer’s night. But the thing Justin appreciated most about him was his tact. Perhaps bending the rules was generally frowned upon in the medical profession, but Alexander Whelan had mapped out certain boundaries for himself which Justin was grateful for. It was the way he pretended not to notice, the casual manner he held the looks of both Jenny and Howard without once turning to Justin, Gary or Mark, despite their faces peeking out quite obviously from over Howard’s shoulder. He directed everything he said only to Howard and Jenny, respecting his patient’s wishes, but, after a quiet word from Howard, he had begun to allow all of them to cluster around more closely when he came to pass on information on Jason’s condition. They ‘accidentally overheard’ every word he said and there was a slight glint in his eyes every time he noticed Mark standing on tiptoe to try and lean in to hear better. Justin needed to remember to thank him for that – although, he supposed, it was really Howard he should thank.
“The good news is that there doesn’t appear to be any bleeding on the brain, which is what we were worried about initially. His scans didn’t show any signs of anything which would be of immediate concern to us and so now we can start focusing on his lesser injuries and doing what we can to help his recovery from those.”
“So, he’s going to be fine? Same old Jay?” Jenny Orange was biting her lip as she spoke and Howard glanced over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. Justin swallowed, watching the doctor’s expression flicker slightly. It wasn’t the reaction any of them had wanted to see.
“I’m afraid I can’t guarantee anything. Your son hadn’t regained consciousness by the time we took him into surgery, and since then he has been quite heavily anaesthetised, so we haven’t been able to really assess that aspect. The staff in intensive care will be the ones responsible for overseeing him now and trying to bring him back to consciousness. If he doesn’t wake up when the anaesthetic wears off, then we will probably have to run some more tests and see where we can go from there.”
“But when he does come round, or if you bring him round, he’ll be ok from then on? Please, he is the only one of my boys who doesn’t drive me up the wall with worry and I just need to know that that’s not going to change.” Jenny swallowed a rogue lump in her throat, straining her face in an attempt to stay strong. Doctor Whelan took a breath. He looked at Jenny a moment before slowly turning back to Howard, whose face had become a mask which was entirely devoid of emotion. Gary too looked over at Howard then and he felt a wisp of worry begin to curl up inside him; what exactly was going on behind that mask? Even Howard’s eyes seemed grey and shuttered and it made Gary uneasy – because he wasn’t sure there was anyone in the world who was truly that strong, which could only mean Howard’s mind was working overtime behind those slate-coloured eyes. Mark mumbled something by Gary’s ear which he later swore he hadn’t realised he’d said; ‘It always goes this way.’
“The problem with the brain is that, although we’re learning new things all the time, we don’t yet know enough to ever be 100% confident when it comes to head injuries such as those Jason has sustained. Medicine is a science that is developing all the time, but for the moment we do have to rely a lot on patients’ responses once conscious. Once Jason is conscious again and talking, then we can start to assess him and get a clearer picture of whether or not there will be any long term consequences. But his scans are clear, and that is an extremely positive sign, I promise you.”
“But it’s not a definite answer,” Howard said quietly. Alexander looked down and Gary pitied him; he somehow found it easier to feel pity for the doctor than anyone else in that moment, because feeling pity for the rest of them – Jason, Howard, Justin, Mark...Robbie... – was too much to handle. Too much had happened. Too many emotions had gotten involved. With Alexander Whelan, Gary could detach him, as though he was watching television. He knew next to nothing about this man, had next to no entanglement with him. ‘That poor bastard hasn’t got an easy job has he’ – it was such an uncomplicated thing to feel that Gary leapt at the sentiment gratefully and clung to it.
“Jason is strong, he’s healthy and his surgery was extremely successful. He’s actually been incredibly lucky to escape with no major broken bones. I would say his chances of making a full recovery are good. We’re going to move him to the intensive care unit for the night but, by morning, we could very well be transferring him to a regular ward. You might have to go easy on him for a few weeks but...” Howard laughed softly and everyone jumped slightly, their eyes flicking over to him. Was this the moment he snapped and went mad from the pressure? You could almost hear them all holding their breath. But Howard simply shook his head and looked down, suddenly shy.
“No it’s just...Jay’s gonna love that isn’t he, us all pussy-footing round him, trying to make him play the invalid. He’s going to go mad.” He risked a glance at Jenny, his eyes shining briefly with that playfulness he was so loved for, and Jenny smiled back at him with understanding. Mark and Gary too where chucking slightly, exchanging glances, and Justin outright grinned.
“I give him a week before he checks himself out of the hospital and books a flight to Thailand,” he remarked and Howard smirked.
“You’re giving him that long?!” he asked. Doctor Whelan smiled and shrugged.
“Well, whether he likes it or not, we are going to be keeping him in, just to be on the safe side. And, depending how long he takes to come to, he could be with us here for quite some time. Even if he regains consciousness before tonight is through, we still need to keep an eye on him. Head injuries are tricky, as I said before, and sometimes symptoms can take a while to manifest. You can, however, go in and see him as he comes round, if you’d like?” Howard looked at Doctor Whelan with something that resembled suspicion, worried that this was simply false hope, but the doctor’s expression didn’t change and Gary could see the colours in his friend’s eyes shifting back to something more reminiscent of their usual startling blue. “I can only really let two of you in with him though, I’m afraid. I could probably persuade the sister on duty to let three of you sit with him a while, given the circumstances, but that’s probably the limit. It’s been a tough day for you, but Jason has had an even tougher one, I can assure you, and right now the best thing for him is probably peace and quiet,” the doctor added gently, still looking at Howard, who had somehow become the head of their group over the course of the evening. Perhaps the doctors were grateful of his level head, or perhaps Justin and Jenny had both come to accept that, these days, when it came to Jason, Howard was the expert, but either way he didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the authority. He turned to look at Jenny, but she simply shook her head.
“No, Howard, you should decide who goes in. You’re the only one he’ll want to see anyway I should imagine. When he’s scared it’s...it’s always you,” she smiled faintly. Howard bit his lip then glanced back at Gary. His friend knew him well enough to spot the plea in his eyes and he winked back, giving Howard a little nod to show he understood. Howard smiled gratefully.
“Justin, will you come with Jenny and me?” he asked after a moment and Justin blinked, his mouth opening slightly, and he looked between Gary and Howard in surprise.
“But I...” he began.
“Me and Mark have to go anyway,” Gary put in quickly and Mark nodded.
“Yeah, we’ve literally just dumped our bags in the middle of the flat, our dog’s still with a friend...” Mark shrugged. He knew it all sounded so trivial and stupid in the circumstances, but he felt as though he needed the escape that triviality could provide. An entire day of epic events was more than he really wanted to deal with, and besides, Justin needed to see Jason more than he or Gary did. Justin looked back to Howard, something resembling nervousness in his eyes. Considering the way he’d treated Howard...he knew he didn’t deserve his kindness.
“You want me in there? After everything I said?” Howard shook his head slightly.
“Honestly? Not really. But you’re Jay’s twin brother, and no matter what he says, he wants you around. So come on, you’re coming with us. No arguments.”
Howard felt Jason intertwine their arms and he turned his head, squinting against the sun to get a clearer view of him. He almost smiled as their gazes met and Jason beamed up at him, the sunlight catching in his eyes. Normally that would be more than enough to sustain a smile on Howard’s face, but today he was too anxious. What did raise a smile from him, however, was that Jason knew him well enough by now to sense this and so he leant in for a kiss. Howard slowly pulled him closer, willing to be charmed, and he wrapped one arm around his back, a gesture Jason mirrored, and as their lips came together Howard could feel the stress ebbing away bit by bit, trickling down to his nerve-endings and fizzling out. The kiss was brief, altogether more casual than the passionate kisses of the night before when they were curled together on Jason’s sofa, and yet it was still more serious than the playful pecks exchanged a week ago when Jason had turned up unannounced at one of Howard’s gigs. The gesture was just as meaningful though and Howard appreciated it just as much, maybe more. This was something that went beyond the first blush of love. As Howard’s hand came to rest on his hip, Jason placed his own hand over the top of it, giving it a small squeeze before leaning back to meet Howard’s gaze again. Howard found he wasn’t even surprised at the knowing glimmer he saw in Jason’s eyes – it was something he saw more and more of, a reminder that Jason knew him now, knew him beyond what most people knew; he knew that he liked to dance and that he told bad jokes when he got nervous, he knew how he liked his coffee and he knew how to tell when he was lying. And one thing Jason had become better at than anyone else was knowing when Howard was scared. It was something which Howard didn’t usually like people knowing – he was often embarrassed by his own shyness – but when Jason knew it was different somehow. Because Jason could make the fear seem smaller – he looked at Howard like he could conquer the world...and it made Howard think that maybe he really could.
“You know you shouldn’t really think of it like meeting someone new, How. Think of it more like meeting me all over again. It’s mostly the same genes...just not quite as good as mine, of course,” Jason smiled mischievously and Howard chuckled, cupping Jason’s face in his hand and kissing him once on the lips.
“Well that goes without saying,” he chuckled with a slight roll of his eyes but Jason pulled a face, elbowing him jokingly in the ribs.
“It’s too late to play it cool, Donald, I know you like me.” Howard laughed, shaking his head slightly and looking down, a hint of shyness creeping back on him. It still surprised him sometimes that someone like Jason could actually be happy being liked by Howard. On first meeting Jason was charming and funny, but Howard found he often left a first impression of timid and awkward. Although, even he had to admit, he was more like himself when Jason was around, more able to relax. When he first met Jason, his jokes hadn’t even been half-bad.
“Yeah well, if you show up at any more of my gigs then I might start to think you like me too,” Howard said into his chest and Jason put a finger to his lips then, frowning in an exaggerated show of confusion.
“Gigs? What gigs? I don’t know what you mean,” he insisted, flashing a sly grin at Howard, who laughed and pulled him back in close for a kiss on the temple. The truth was Jason had been showing up at his gigs unexpectedly for months now; there was no pattern to it, so the gesture remained somewhat of a surprise each time, but it had happened more times than they’d had actual dates. Everything normally came so naturally to them and very little had to be forced or planned in advance. And, Howard supposed, that was the problem now. “It’s not really forced, you know, just coz we planned it,” Jason murmured, seemingly reading Howard’s thoughts. He leant in closer, reaching his hand up to Howard’s chin and turning his head to face him. “You know I’ll still love you, even if he hates you, don’t you?” Howard smiled at that.
“I do now.” Jason’s lips curved into a small smile too and he put his forehead against Howard’s.
“Then smile, Donald, coz you’ve got nothing to lose.”
It was as Howard leant in for another kiss that the interruption came.
“Alright, hands where I can see ‘em please!”
“Why are people always saying that to us?!” Jason joked, winking at Howard before turning his head to look over at his twin, who had come to a stop just opposite their table. “Hey Justin,” he added and Justin smirked.
“Hey yourself. So this is the reason I never see you anymore.” Justin was looking at Howard as he spoke and, even with Jason at his side, he could feel the fear returning. He hated meeting new people, always had since he was a kid. He was shy with new people, always worried what they thought of him, and, when it actually mattered what people thought of him, the shyness turned into an out-and-out phobia. Justin Orange’s bright blue eyes weren’t unkind, but there was something there that worried Howard, something different to what he saw in Jason’s almost-identical shade of blue. Was it a challenge? Whatever it was, it made Howard’s heart beat entirely out of rhythm. He should have known, he supposed, that dating one of a pair of twins would have its complications.
“Shut up, Justin, you’ve hardly missed me. Go and get yourself a pint and we can catch up, ok?” Jason was smiling as he spoke, but Howard could hear a different note in his tone and that was how he knew he hadn’t imagined the challenge in Justin’s stare. A challenge which Jason was putting a stop to with a challenge of his own. Howard felt Jason squeeze his knee underneath the table and he knew for sure what Jason was thinking; Howard Donald, I will fight for you.
“So you’re the one who has finally got my brother to start actually carrying his mobile phone with him when he leaves the house.” Howard smiled tightly as Justin sat down opposite him five minutes later, and Jason rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“Play nice, Justin, I mean it. Coz if you don’t, then I’m going to be telling mum what really happened at Tamsin Sharp’s sixteenth birthday party that summer in ’84,” Jason warned his brother and Justin visibly flinched before looking back at Howard.
“Blimey. I hope you know, Howard Donald, that is some serious stuff.” For a little while at least, Justin had seemed impressed by his brother’s new boyfriend.
The moment Howard saw him he wished he had given in to the selfishness he had fought so hard to deny. It was easier to be noble when what he wanted had seemed impossible, when the only clear thought he’d been able to cling onto was that he needed Jason to survive, but now, standing so close, and Jason looking for all the world like he’d just fallen asleep on the sofa, Howard realised he wasn’t the noble sort because all he wanted was for the others to leave. To know Jason as a son, as a brother, as a friend – it was nothing, just the sliver of silver forming the crescent of a moon. To know Jason as the man smiling sleepily up at you from beneath the bed-sheets was to know a million different things which could be so easily lost, had been so nearly so easily lost, that day and many other days in the past. It was to know something beyond this figure fashioned from flesh and bone, it was to possess the darkness that nobody else saw. Doctor Whelan spoke softly to them and Howard didn’t listen. Suddenly ungrateful and stubborn – all the flashes of his own darkness – Howard couldn’t even muster a ‘thank you’ for the man who had worked so hard at keeping his world from falling apart. There was something murmured about informing the ward sister if Jason woke up, some reassuring words about shifts not ending until midnight, some talk of Jason being strong. Howard nodded absently at all the wrong moments and twitched his fingers impatiently. Jason’s hair was dark and tousled – he’d been growing it out recently, Howard recalled with a smile – and it fell across his forehead in an uneven line that Howard wanted to brush away. He didn’t look how Howard had expected him to look – not broken like the people who lay in soap opera hospital beds, unlike them he wasn’t pale or full up of lifelessness, he wasn’t a mess of wires and bandage. He was still Jason; his skin that warm-tan colour, still breathing in and out in his own Jason rhythm. Doctor Whelan hesitated, his eyes falling on Howard before he glanced back to Jenny and Justin with a tight smile – ‘I’ll leave you be’ he said and Jenny thanked him quietly. But Howard was already moving over to the bed, his hand halfway to Jason’s before Doctor Whelan’s shoes had even squeaked their goodbye.
Jason looked so reassuringly like himself that Howard almost smiled. Even this close he looked no different, not in any way that mattered. His sprained left wrist was strapped tightly and there were cuts across his face, but his lips still curved up ever-so-slightly, the way they always did when he slept. Stubble graced his jawline and Howard smiled as he remembered the feeling of it scratching his fingers lightly when they’d kissed goodbye that morning. He took Jason’s hand and it felt heavy and solid in his own.
He wasn’t sure how it had come to this. Some stupid argument over keeping the apartment tidy had escalated and suddenly Jason was up off the sofa, shouting and seething, gesturing wildly as Howard sat in startled silence. It wasn’t like him, not really. The two of them were so good at bickering and they had turned it into their secret game, a secret code of affection between the two of them that they never allowed to get out of control. But tonight was different – tonight Jason was ready for a fight. It was so unlike him; he rarely raised his voice, stubborn though he was, Jason would rather back down and lose the fight than make a scene. Suddenly a phone was thrown and Howard’s head snapped up. It landed nowhere near him – no attempt at accuracy, because Howard knew Jason had better aim than that – but it was enough to change the stakes. Jason was still shouting, not quite tearful but there was something unsteady in his voice as he reeled off reasons why Howard’s priorities were wrong; stop chasing me round the house trying to kiss me and actually help for a change was possibly the intended message but Howard was past caring. Instead of smiling vaguely into his chest with amusement at Jason’s uncharacteristic display, suddenly Howard felt ready for a fight too and he was instantly on his feet, spinning round to meet Jason’s gaze. Two sets of bright blue eyes blazed brightly at each other across the room.
“Enough, Jay, just...enough, ok? I’m not going to do this with you. I’m not going to turn our relationship into some flow-chart of yes-or-no answers and priorities and rules, I don’t want it to become that man-made a thing. I love you, Jay, but sometimes loving you is like trying to love the rain.” Jason stilled then, his momentum lost, his mouth was still open slightly but his body lacked that angry rigidity of before and there was something more familiar in those blue eyes. Howard knew Jason’s body, his face, knew every clue in it, and he could see the tiniest of creases across his brow, there as an invitation – no, a plea – for Howard to talk him down. “You pervade everything in my life, Jay, everything. I can feel you seeping into my skin but...I can’t hold onto you, you give me nothing to grasp.” Howard swallowed, looking away shyly. His fingers twitched at his sides and he wanted to get out then, wanted to hide somewhere and get away from his own words. He was still getting used to being loved so honestly – honesty hadn’t been a feature of his past relationships, his own self-defence mechanism that had often left others hurt. But Jason’s eyes were still on him.
Jason had softened so quickly, so quietly, that perhaps if Howard hadn’t known him so well he wouldn’t have noticed it, still wouldn’t have dared to look up. But Howard looked up and saw Jason’s eyes glitter, a smile playing on his lips. He was almost laughing and it almost made Howard laugh too. The space between them was crossed in a second, but Howard wasn’t sure which one of them moved. Or at least, he wasn’t sure until Jason rested his hands on his chest and pressed a single, short kiss to his lips.
“I’m right here, love.” Howard put his hands on Jason’s hips. His thumb slipped under the hem of Jason’s shirt and he could feel the warmth of his skin. It was funny, Howard thought, that this man had been shouting at him not two minutes ago. It was funny, Howard thought, that this man had been halfway across the room, his blue eyes on fire, just a matter of seconds before. He cupped Jason’s cheek and stroked his thumb across it, leaning their foreheads together. Contact. Howard was a man who needed the physical reassurance that contact gave him and Jason knew it. He had moved his arms so they were around Howard’s neck and his hands were playing with his curls and he was smiling knowingly – his way of apologising. “I’m right here, love,” he murmured again.
“Explain to me again why you thought a waistcoat was the closest thing to a jacket you’d be requiring to face a Mancunian summer?!” Gary chuckled as he and Mark stepped out of the hospital doors and into the rainy night. Mark sighed quietly and studied the rain, his round eyes twinkling as they reflected the shifting light.
“I guess it’s just that...when I woke up this morning, I had this incredible conviction that everything was going to be ok, you know? I was sure of it.” Gary kissed the top of Mark’s head before sliding off his own coat and wrapping it around Mark’s small shoulders.
“Maybe you were right, maybe you just got the wrong day,” he suggested in a murmur and Mark smiled distantly.
“Maybe.” Gary squeezed Mark’s shoulders firmly. “Besides, we were in Stoke this morning. And the summers aren’t half as wet there,” Mark added, flicking a playful glance up at Gary, who raised an eyebrow. “It’s true. They’re more...a damp grey sort of colour. And there’s quite a few hills and things, makes for fewer puddles.” Gary had to laugh then.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he nodded before turning his gaze back to the rain. For a moment he and Mark stood and watched as the shower eased briefly into a drizzle before gathering its strength for a fresh downpour. There were surprisingly few people around – a few stray patients milled about the covered pavement just in front of the hospital doors and a man in a fluorescent jacket picked litter whilst whistling absently to himself – but somehow Mark and Gary felt claustrophobic. It was as though the rain was trying to box them in, trap them in their own uncertainty. The darkness was muggy, but a breeze was briefly whipped in with the rain and Mark shivered slightly, pulling Gary’s coat more tightly around him. For a moment it was possible to taste summer in the air, a brief glimpse at what the day should have been. The rain was making shadows on the pavement as it fell down past the streetlamps and Mark couldn’t help but think how similar those patterns were to the dancing shadows which the sunlight cast out on the grass at Trentham Gardens as it made its way through the leaves on the trees. Isn’t it funny, he thought, how uncertainty could mean nothing one day and everything the next?
“Jay’s going to be ok. Him and Howard will be ok,” he said softly into the quiet. Gary didn’t look at him, but he smiled and nodded slowly.
“It’s what they do, I think; come out the other side. And Jay is more resilient than he looks.”
“I hope we all are.”
“And by all you mean...?” Gary glanced down at Mark, his blue eyes startlingly bright in the darkness. Mark sighed, resting his head against Gary’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
“I don’t know, Gaz. I just...don’t know. I mean; four of us, five of us...what difference does it make when we’re all of us so screwed up? I don’t care anymore, Gaz. I can’t care anymore. I just want us all to be...less broken. I thought we made each other less broken but...now I’m not so sure.”
“We’re not broken, Marko, we’re all just...works in progress.” Mark smiled.
“I dunno, Gaz. I’d say you’re pretty much the finished article.”
“Don’t be daft,” Gary chuckled but Mark’s smile didn’t waver.
“I’m not being daft. It’s the truth.” Gary met Mark’s gaze slowly, cautiously, hardly daring to consider the words. A feeling of responsibility for them all crept up on him and he quickly looked away. “I love you,” Mark added in a whisper. Gary smiled.
“I love you too.” Mark slipped his hand into Gary’s and squeezed tightly and Gary took in a gulp of cool air, enjoying the feeling of it as it filled his lungs.
“Come on, let’s order a taxi.”
“In this weather? Gaz, there’s probably not a taxi in Manchester that isn’t booked! I knew we should’ve driven here...”
“I don’t think either of us was in any state to be driving. Come on, you go take a seat over there and I’ll just phone and see what they can do, ok?”
“Ok. But I’m telling you, Gaz, we’ll end up here all night.”
“Worst comes to the worst I’ll phone Dawn, she said she’d wait up for news anyway...and knowing her, she’d probably be glad of the job. She likes to feel useful in a crisis does Dawn.”
As Mark headed over to the bench to take a seat, Gary reached into his pocket, quickly fishing out his phone and turning it on. A thousand and one thoughts were jumping back and forth in his mind, and he knew he needed a task, something to concentrate on. When focused, his energy could achieve anything, more or less. He didn’t know where the skill came from, but it had become his coping strategy; turn emotion and strife into positive action, into a game-plan, into a solution. Gary’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, distracting him slightly, and he squinted down at the screen; three missed calls, one voicemail. But Gary was hardly registering the detail, too distracted by the name. The call log was clear, all the calls had come from the same number; ‘Bob Mobile’. With a cautious glance in Mark’s direction, Gary pressed to hear the voicemail and lifted the phone to his ear. He half-expected a barrage of abuse, or perhaps a few more insults, but something told him to listen anyway, some inner faith persuading him that patience was the key to resolution.
“Gaz...I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I tried to call you, you know? I’ve been trying to call you but I can’t get you coz you’re probably busy with Jay and...and I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about that because I do, I do, ok? I really do I just...I didn’t focus on it, not before I didn’t but now...now it’s all I can fucking think of. I love Jay...he’s great, isn’t he? Him and Howard are great. And I don’t know...I don’t know why I was such a tit before when I should’ve listened and now I can’t stop worrying about Jay and I want to know what’s happening, Gaz. Please, Gaz. I need to know what’s happening with him. With him and...and with Mark...and...and you...look, about what I said...Gaz, I just...but you’re probably...you’re probably busy. Cleaning up the mess for me. And looking after everyone and...and I know you’ll be the one holding it together right now and I want you to know that...that even though I take the piss out of you for that I think it’s great and...shit, the message time’s about to cut out on me but...Gaz, just...please, let me know if Jay is ok? And Mark? Please, Gaz. I’m sorry. Please.” The message cut off abruptly and Gary blinked in surprise, lowering his phone and staring down at it as though he suspected it belonged to someone else. Gary cast another glance at Mark and he bit his lip. Should he tell him? Should he even care? What difference did a slightly alcohol-tinged message even make? He looked back down at his phone and sighed. Time to make a choice, Barlow. Time to make a choice.
To Howard’s relief, in this room the rain sounded muffled, faraway like it couldn’t touch him. Like it couldn’t touch Jason. Someone had cleaned the grit from Jason’s cheek and Howard’s hands were clean now too. The puddle-water had gone from his skin and his curls were almost dry and it was as though the storm hadn’t happened and he was left staring at the debris trying to work out what on earth had happened. He rested one hand lightly against Jason’s arm, his eyes focusing on nothing and everything all at once. He wanted to ignore the cuts and bruises, but he kept catching glimpses and the image haunted him, the outlines flickering up behind his eyelids like a terrible film. Jenny was watching him, he knew. She had one hand on Jason’s shoulder, the other on Justin’s arm, but her eyes were trained on Howard – she had the same piercing gaze as Jason and he found it both unnerving and calming all at once to feel that stare. Such a familiar sensation, such a familiar sensation and it felt like home and Howard felt an ache of longing. Home. He wanted to be home again, with Jason’s eyes on him and the rain outside not touching their lives.
“They’re only cuts, Howard,” Jenny said gently after a moment and Howard shook his head.
“They’re cuts on top of cuts, Jen,” he reminded her and Jenny looked away. She couldn’t argue with him or tell him otherwise, she knew just as well as he did that Jason bore scars. That boy of hers – the boy who all her friends had always told her would break hearts one day with his smile, the boy with the pretty eyes and the handsome set to his jaw and the reputation as a charmer – he hadn’t been free of scars for so long now that it had become a part of him. The cuts healed, the words died beneath the rain and things changed, for the better, but nothing was ever forgotten. Howard slowly moved his hand from Jason’s arm, intertwining their fingers instead, and for a moment Jenny and Justin both watched him, trying to gauge what was going through his head. “Sometimes it’s just...it’s hard to know whether I’m more scared of losing him...or of breaking him...” Howard’s voice was little more than a whisper but Jenny’s eyes were kind and she shook her head.
“You could never break him, Howard. And you will never lose him,” she insisted but Howard looked down.
“Then why does it keep happening, Jen?” he remarked. For a moment silence descended on the room. That was until the smallest of sighs broke the peace – Jason’s lips moved, an almost imperceptible movement but so longed for by those gathered in the room that three pairs of eyes all came to rest on Jason’s face. But Jason made no other move and they all looked away again, feeling foolish and frightened all at once.
Howard pulled his hood up over his head, squinting against the beat of the rain. He operated in beats, knew the beat of every emotion, knew Jason’s heartbeat and knew the beat of the rain. He’d had plenty of time to learn them all, but the rain had done the most work with him. At night on the glass of the bedroom window it would come and play him its repertoire as he contemplated the space beside him. In the morning it pressed itself up to the side of the apartment building, experimenting with a slower rhythm in an attempt to be heard over the echo of Jason’s voice in a hollow anti-lullaby.
A car splashed through a puddle up the street and he visibly flinched, his head turning in the direction of the sound instinctively. Jason? But no, Jason wasn’t there. Again. Howard wished he was immune to hope sometimes. Its sudden stab at every sound was, he realised, far more painful than the perpetual throb of loss that lived at the back of his throat these days. At least with the loss he knew where he stood. But the hope...it offered so much and delivered so little. He closed his eyes and all he could hear for miles was the pitter-pat (pitter-pat) of the rain. He’d wait for however long it took to hear something other than the sound of the rain. The notes of Jason’s laugh, the beat of his rambling stories as he whispered them to Howard at night when they hid beneath the sheets.
When it came it was unceremonious. Justin was all but asleep and Jenny too had her eyes closed, a hand to her face as she tried to stifle a yawn. Howard was hunched, his hand still holding Jason’s, his head bowed as he tried to stop remembering (because he was sure the ability to remember was one of his greatest flaws.) Outside the door the soft sound of nurses exchanging information in low whispers almost obscured the moment entirely. “Ow.” The voice was quiet, groaning. “Fuck.” Jenny sat up immediately, her head turning and her eyes widening briefly, she leant forward in her seat, stretching out a hand to brace herself as she placed her other hand on Jason’s arm. Howard too had turned, lifting his head, one hand on Jason’s shoulder. Because he knew that voice and for once it was more than a hopeful echo in his head. “Urgh,” Jason mumbled again and Howard smiled dazedly as Jason scrunched up his face slightly.
“Sweetheart?” Jenny whispered, cautious but unable to hide the anticipation in her voice, and Jason turned his head towards her, a small crease of pain briefly appearing on his face as his eyes slowly flickered open. Jenny was sniffing back her tears and shaking her head at him, a fond smile on her face as she rested a tender hand to her son’s cheek. Jason closed his eyes again a moment and when he reopened them they were more focused, some sort of awareness coming to him as he took in the scene. A small, bemused smile touched his lips as he took in his mother’s face and he stretched himself slightly, settling more comfortably on the pillow, his eyes shining despite the dimness of the room.
“What are you crying for, softie?” Jason managed, his voice hoarse and tired but his eyes so familiarly alive that Howard couldn’t help but grin.
“You’ll be the death of me you big idiot,” Jenny choked out with a small laugh, dabbing at her eyes and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Jason rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand weakly – his wrist was strapped up but he seemed to give it little care. “I should’ve had girls. And definitely not twins,” Jenny sighed, giving up on stopping her tears in favour of placing her other hand on top of Jason’s and clasping it tightly. Jason’s sleepy smile was wide and he scrunched his face jokingly.
“You’d have had less fun,” he said and it was Jenny’s turn to roll her eyes.
“He’s got a point, mum, we are kind of spectacular you know.” Justin was awake now, sitting forward in his chair and grinning, with relief more than anything, at his brother, with whom he shared a mischievous blue look. For a moment they were twelve again, just back home after slipping away from their mother on a shopping trip earlier in the day, scaring her half to death and then some. “Double trouble, right?” Justin raised an eyebrow at Jason and Jason laughed a muted laugh, not quite his real laugh but close enough to make Howard smile.
“Double trouble,” Jason agreed quietly.
“Well then you’ll be the death of Howard, that’ll make you sorry,” Jenny sighed with a fond smile and she glanced up at Howard then, flashing him a wink. It seemed to be the first Jason noticed of Howard’s presence because when he turned to look at him his blue eyes were a different hue and his expression a little surprised. Howard smiled down at him and shrugged shyly.
“Mornin’, love,” he said, so often his whisper when he woke Jason up sneaking back into bed after a gig finished late. But Jason didn’t echo back his ‘Mornin’, How’ and that made Howard look at him, really look at him, look him in the eye without wavering. And he knew immediately. Jason's brow furrowed slightly and Howard slowly withdrew his hand. Jason let their fingers slip apart without comment and for a moment everyone in the room watched the two men’s fingers sliding away from each other across the hospital sheets. And then Howard and Jason looked back up at each other. Both men were simultaneously struck with the urge to hold the stare and the urge to look away – Howard wanted to run and Jason wanted to question him, but neither one of them was capable of acting on their feelings, paralyzed instead by some instinctive fear of being separated.
“Jay...” Howard said, so softly it was hardly more than a breath. Jason’s expression briefly softened and for a moment Howard saw him, his Jason, but he knew it wasn’t the same. “Jay,” he whispered again, and this time it was a plea. Jason opened his mouth and then closed it again, his eyes briefly flicking to his mother, who sat in nervous silence on his opposite side.
“Sweetheart?” she tried but he was already looking at Howard again. Those eyes were as familiar as his own to him, but he had no words to attach to them, no memories that he could trace back to them. Just outlines. And the worst part was that he could tell that the poor man knew.
“I have to...I have to go.” Jenny, Justin and Jason watched in silence as Howard got up and walked away.
“I should go.” Jason turned at the sound of Howard’s voice, his blue eyes were steady and bright in the half-light of the room. For a moment the two men regarded each other in silence and Howard didn’t move, because something in Jason’s face told him to wait, to hold his breath – his previous discomfort was gone beneath the calmness of Jason’s gaze and he didn’t want to run anymore. Jason reached across and took Howard’s hand in his own, those eyes of his reflecting the Christmas lights and the music and the people and all the other things which Howard had forgotten were there.
“Stay,” Jason said, his voice soft. Howard smiled slightly and Jason’s thumb stroked gently along the back of his hand. He knew Howard’s decision and wordlessly he turned his attention back to where his father was telling an animated story to his assembled sons. Beneath the table, he squeezed Howard’s hand.
The rain had stopped in Stoke-on-Trent, just as the darkness began to consume the looming outline of the incinerator more completely, dead street-lamps leaving nothing but the lights of the Britannia to light the space across the fields to Robbie’s house. They sent a red glow across the hillside and the only sound for miles was that of the stadium’s flags clanking against their flagpoles. Robbie could hear the metallic echo from his bedroom, though that wasn’t what was keeping him awake. There were two films in his head which kept playing behind his eyelids; one of Jason, black and blue, and one of Mark, sitting in amidst the broken glass, wide-eyed. In both films the men stared at him with that sort of disappointment that penetrated you physically – they were both men who had put their faith in him, sharing jokes and advice and music, always trying not to judge him, always trying not to fight him...but he had left them with no choice but to judge, to fight. He’d let them both down, hadn’t he. He let out a sigh and rolled over for the hundredth time, punching his pillow and dropping his head heavily into the dent, staring sullenly out of the bedroom window and down to where he could just about make out the flags of the Britannia – their ends frayed and their colours faded. He found a strange beauty in the sight; to him so many things he saw came with melodies and meanings in his head, it gave the world a different context and, in moments like this, when he was almost-sober, he found it so easy to see the extraordinary in almost anything. The flags fluttered and they made patterns out of the shadows – something beautiful was formed in the darkness.
After a minute or so, Robbie’s eyes strayed from the window as he noticed his mobile lying on the floor. When he’d first stumbled in out of the rain and collapsed onto his bed, he must have dropped it from his hand. He’d waited at least an hour, maybe longer, for Gary to call him back, pressing the phone to his lips and waiting for its high-pitched ring to pierce through his alcohol-fuzzed mind. But the sound had never come and Robbie had trudged back up the hill and into bed – where he should’ve just stayed this morning, he had reasoned. With a flinch he remembered his only slightly-slurred message to Gary and he rubbed his hands over his face, more convinced than ever that he would never see any of those four men or their dusty piano ever again.
Slowly Robbie pushed himself up in the bed and stretched to grab the phone and, to his surprise, ‘1 New Message’ lit the screen. A small part of him wanted to throw the phone out of the window and put the pillow over his head – Gary Barlow’s opinion of him was something he longed to know but somehow he couldn’t imagine that opinion was very high. He wanted Gary to think well of him, he wanted Gary to say it was all ok, but he knew that was a long-shot to say the least. The thought of that rejection made him feel queasy – although that might have been the booze.
He expected a low, angry warning. Gary was capable of a cold, detached sort of anger that Robbie found far more frightening than the screaming rage he himself was capable of. He had no idea whether or not Gary could throw as good a punch as him, but could he command a situation better? It was undeniable. And yet, as the message began, Robbie could hear no coldness. Just a tiredness – a tiredness that was tinged, however, with the famous Barlow determination.
“Jay’s going to be ok, Rob, or at least, the signs are good. And as for Mark...look, I’m not going to lie to you Rob, but I think we should talk about this in person, after we’ve both had a good night’s rest, yeah? I’ll come down to Stoke tomorrow. We can try and clear the air. G’night, Rob. God Bless.”
Howard could feel the moisture in the air before he’d even made it out of the doors. To his own surprise he wasn’t crying – someone had hollowed him out without him noticing, and pieces of his heart just rattled around the empty space inside and it didn’t even hurt any more. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and bit his lip, fidgeting from foot to foot. He could get out now, he could walk out into the rain and never come back. Jason would hardly notice he’d gone after all. But was it really that simple? He still knew those eyes even if those eyes didn’t know him. And somewhere in the back of his mind Howard realised the significance in the smallest of details; he had pulled his hand away from Jason’s, but Jason had made no move. It was silly, he knew it was silly, but it still meant something. Maybe it meant everything. But then...Jason hadn’t told him to stay. Stay had always been one of Jason’s favourite things to say to him before.
There was no explanation – that was the nurse’s way of explaining it anyway, and if she’d been talking to some other poor bugger then Howard would’ve sympathised with her, trying to do the impossible. Memory was a funny thing, a person could forgot any number of details, big or small. They could remember after an hour, they could remember after a year. They could never remember at all. Maybe they could forget and be better for it, Howard mused.
He had to get out. He wanted to forget too. He didn’t want to play with his memories anymore.
Chapter Ten: Just After Midnight, Wednesday Morning
It was the only place he had wanted to be but, he realised now, he couldn’t be here. Here, the place which had always protected him before. They had fought here, but that had only made it sacred ground, the place where they fought but they stayed. Jason had told him to stay so many times – ‘well stay then, How’ the words which had made it Howard’s home years before – and somewhere in the back of his mind he supposed he’d stormed back here with such determination because this was the place where ‘stay’ had become much more than four letters, it had become a life. Maybe he’d hoped that, even if Jason hadn’t said the words himself back there at the hospital, perhaps they would still echo round these walls. But standing here now in the dark, alone, Howard felt as though a beautiful invitation had been sharply, and wordlessly, revoked.
He’d been warned by Jason’s brothers when he first moved in. They’d told him to behave, insisted that Jason was so precious about his apartment and he’d be lucky if he was even allowed to move his shoes in. He’d chosen not to tell them that Jason had been letting him keep a wash-bag in the bathroom for months, or that there was a special shelf in Jason’s fridge for Howard’s favourite food. And Jason, for his part, hadn’t argued with them, instead sharing a secretive smile with Howard over the tops of their heads, because he knew Howard had had a spare key since December. It had been their home before they’d decided to call it that, it had become something more than just bricks and mortar the moment the two of them were in it – a fact Jason expressed in silent gestures; making room for Howard’s record collection underneath the bed and for his coffee machine in the kitchen, painting the spare room for Grace and switching out the CD player in his bedroom for a newer model with an iPod dock and better bass. Howard had attempted to say thank you, but Jason had shrugged and smiled; ‘the space was there to be filled’.
Looking at the apartment now, Howard realised Jason had been right – because, wasn’t he always? The space had been there to be filled and they had filled every inch of it. Physical things like Jason’s guitar and their new television, Howard’s laptop sitting in a nest of wires on the desk, a small stack of records on the coffee table and Jason’s new favourite book on the arm of the chair. Jason’s laptop caught his eye – he usually took it everywhere with him, it was the one piece of technology he tolerated, though Howard doubted it had ever been used to half of its potential, but today it had been left, not-quite-closed on the breakfast bar, a notebook and pen abandoned next to it, all a nod to a life suddenly suspended. There was normally always someone up late working on something in this apartment, always someone basking in the screen-glow and biting on a thumbnail or a pen-cap, lost in thought, but tonight everything lay abandoned and Howard was reluctant to disturb it, as if at any moment different versions of himself and Jason might come padding down the corridor and flop down onto the sofa. He kept expecting Jason to appear from the shadows and make him jump, start telling him to smile or asking him to dance. Jason always liked to dance.
“Still up?” Howard jumped slightly at the sound. He hadn’t noticed Jason come in, too busy staring disconsolately at his computer screen and gnawing off his thumbnail bit by bit. It was late, he supposed, well after midnight, but he’d known he wouldn’t sleep and so he hadn’t put that much effort into trying. He’d lain beside Jason in bed for a while, watching the ceiling, but in the end he’d still wound up back here, messing with his own head.
“I’m just...sorting some last minute stuff for tomorrow...y’ know...” he mumbled into his chest. Jason’s eyes were twinkling in the semi-darkness, the strange bluish glow of the laptop screen casting his face slightly in shadow as he came over to join Howard on the sofa.
“You’ll be fine, Howard Donald. I believe in you,” he said softly and Howard smiled slightly, glancing out of the large apartment windows and shaking his head.
“I dunno, Jay.” No matter how well he did, no matter how many times someone told him he was born for this job, the same old insecurities always came back. He didn’t care if it was just a local newspaper, he didn’t know what to say – why couldn’t they just come to the event and dance like everyone else? And why did they need more people to dance anyway – Manchester’s finest DJs would bring Manchester’s finest dancers, the two went together, and that was one thing that Howard was sure of because Jason was sitting quietly at his side even now, his chin resting on his shoulder. The two went together, they really did. “You think I’m an idiot don’t you.” Jason didn’t reply and Howard didn’t really want him to. Maybe in the daylight Jason would’ve laughed and agreed and cuffed him round the head, but here and now, in the darkness and the quiet, all he did was watch Howard with his light blue eyes, his body close and his breaths even. “I should just be proud they even asked,” Howard added softly, turning his head even further away. “You can say it, I don’t mind.” There was a pause in which Howard waited for a ‘Don’t be daft’ or an elbow to his ribs, but nothing broke the peace except the muffled sound of his iTunes still playing away through his headphones.
“Dance with me.” It took Howard by surprise and he turned his head immediately, his eyes coming to meet with Jason’s.
“What?”
“Dance with me,” Jason repeated simply, casually, reaching across Howard and pulling the headphone cord from his laptop. He smiled when he heard what song was playing and before Howard could question him further he had taken his hand. Howard’s laptop slid onto the abandoned sofa as Jason led him out past the coffee table and placed his arms around his neck. “I love this song,” he murmured, as if that was all the explanation needed. For a moment they slow-danced wordlessly, Jason’s eyes gazing out of the window as Howard watched the top of his head in stunned silence; Jason always amazed him, because he looked at the world differently to Howard and it was fascinating the way he used the view. He did stupid things sometimes without explanation, but it always made things better, Howard knew. Jason let out a small sigh. “It reminds me of you.” Howard smiled then, a proper smile that reached his eyes. His hands were on Jason’s hips and he must’ve tightened his grip slightly because suddenly Jason’s eyes were away from the window and gazing up at him. There was something instantly alive in those eyes, Howard noticed, and he knew it was because they were dancing and Jason could sense him finally admitting defeat, un-tensing his shoulders and really joining in. “Look at you, Donald; it’s nearly 1am on the day the world ends and you’re dancing,” Jason smiled, his tone only lightly teasing. Howard chuckled softly, cupping Jason’s face in his hand and placing a single kiss to his forehead.
“Yeah well, I can’t think of any better way to spend the end of the world.”
There were messages collecting on his phone – texts and voicemails and missed calls lighting up the screen one after the other. He was lying, spread-eagled on his back, staring at the bedroom ceiling as the wind whipped rain loudly up against the windows. The sound echoed throughout the apartment and, in an effort to obscure it, he picked his phone up off the bedside table and looked at the names on the screen. Gary had called the most, but that was to be expected he supposed. Him and Mark had still be outside when Howard had emerged from the hospital, not that Howard had acknowledged either of them. Gary had chased him a short way, coming out into the rain and making a grab for his arm – Howard had shaken him off and kept walking and he wasn’t sure how long Gary had stood there shouting after him. He supposed Gary must’ve got soaked to the skin , because the pair of them were as determined as each other, even if their determination had been turned in opposite directions that night. He felt guilty for making Gary stand out in the rain – because God knows he knew how horrible that was – but he simply hadn’t wanted to talk to Gary, he couldn’t face it. He hadn’t wanted to explain what was happening. Looking back he knew he must’ve given Gary the fright of his life – Mark and Gary could only have assumed the worst from his hollow eyes and his determined march out into the darkness. He knew it was a ridiculous thought, but he had felt like he would be betraying Jason somehow if he said the words aloud, like he was accusing him of something which could never be taken back. Howard listened to the only message Gary had left; a simple ‘I’m sorry, Howard, I really am’ that told him a million more things beyond what it actually said. Howard knew that Gary knew then and something in his chest ached dully at that, because he still wanted to protect Jason, he didn’t want him diminished in Gary’s eyes.
After Gary there were others. Dawn had called and so had Crystal, though Howard hadn’t a clue who had gotten word to either of them. Grace had phoned him five times, leaving a message twice (one time upset and the next time furious). She was demanding to come home and to be told what was going on. There was something in the way she spoke to him that reminded Howard oddly of Jason, because her emotion was clear but it didn’t break her voice even once. Vicky had called afterwards, her message somewhere between an ‘I told you so’ and sympathy. Grace could be heard in the background of the message, still insisting she wanted to see Jason, but Howard knew he couldn’t let her, not now. He couldn’t even let her know – she’d be angry when she found out, he supposed, but for now couldn’t she just be happy Jason was alive? He didn’t want her to feel what he felt; the potent concoction of overwhelming relief and bitter despair. And, though he was ashamed to admit it, a sense of betrayal, as though a promise had been broken.
The next message, at least, made Howard smile, albeit briefly. No doubt alerted by Crystal, Monika had phoned from the stalls of the Oper, mid-clean-up after a particularly raucous performance of Cats, and Howard was surprised to find he actually smiled at her muttering German curse-words at him down the line. She threatened to book the next flight over if he didn’t let her know he was ok within the next week, ignoring a colleague in the background who reminded her that Cats was one of the ushers’ biggest-workload shows and she couldn’t afford the time off. She insisted to Howard it was nonsense and reiterated her threat before hanging up, sighing in desperate German that she hoped everything would be ok. She was the sort of person who would rather spread herself too thin than feel as though she had let anyone down and that reminded Howard of Jason – she was someone full of good and he wanted to keep hold of that goodness, felt like he needed it. He ran a hand through his hair and thought about calling her back – it was nearly two in the morning there but he had a strange urge to know what the weather was like. Then he noticed one final message and his whole body was on alert again. Reluctantly he pressed the phone back to his ear, biting away at the inside of his cheek. Jenny’s voice was tired but gentle as it crackled down the line.
“He asked after you, Howard. Wanted me to make sure you were ok.” Howard closed his eyes and sank back down against the pillows. “It’s not that he doesn’t know you, Howard, you know? He just...doesn’t know your name, that’s all.”
The rain was loud against the window and yet again Howard thought it must be nice to be able to forget. Because he knew this story. Pitter-pat. He knew it too well.
He was up late, again. He wished he could go somewhere where memories couldn’t touch him, he wished he could go somewhere where the rain couldn’t touch him – because for him, the two were inextricably linked. It had been a long time since he’d slept well in a storm. They conjured up images of loneliness and arguments, of bruises and lost things, they tried to drown him in memories of muddied puddles and handwritten notes and above all they kept him holding his breath. There would always be another storm, that much was as good as a promise when you lived in Manchester. Howard shivered and rubbed at his arms, suddenly aware of how cold it was without the duvet over him – without the steady heat of Jason’s body sleeping next to him. He glanced back to the bed where Jason was still asleep. The bruises were gone now, but Howard could still tell you the exact places where they had been on Jason’s skin. Their apartment was full up of Jason again, but Howard could still see where the spaces had been – or at least, he could by a storm’s grey light, he could on nights like tonight when the raindrops made shadow-patterns on the bedroom wall. There was a rustle of the duvet and Jason turned over in his sleep, he was facing Howard, his hand curling under the pillow as he let out a small sigh, and the corner of his lips curved up. When he stilled again Howard smiled slightly, because seeing Jason peaceful was something rare and good and unspoilt by the shadows of the raindrops, even as they settled across his face. Howard turned back to the window and studied the patterns on the glass, listening as sirens wailed briefly then disappeared off into the wetness of the night. This was storm-music at its best, he supposed, and it had such a hold of him that he jumped when he felt a soft hand on his back. Jason’s arm had slipped round his waist before Howard had even realised his husband was awake and he snaked the other around until his grip was tight around Howard’s middle.
“What’s wrong, Howard Donald?” he asked, his voice so gentle and so quiet and his body so warm and so close. Howard thought about lying, toyed with the idea of saying that everything was alright. But then he looked down at Jason’s arms around his waist and realised the trust that was in that gesture and he knew it would be foolish to ruin the safety of their bedroom with the recklessness of well-meant untruths. “Tell me,” Jason whispered, placing a kiss behind Howard’s ear, his nose pressing briefly to the nape of his neck. There was a pause as Howard looked back up, his eyes straying out to the city which he had loved so much once but now he couldn’t trust.
“I hate the sound of the rain,” he murmured at last and he could feel Jason smile sadly against his back, squeeze tighter at his middle. “I hate it when it rains like this and doesn’t stop.” For a moment the two of them stood in silence, listening to the raindrops and watching them make starbursts of the city lights. Jason’s heartbeat was steady against Howard’s back and Howard liked the warmth of that sound. It was so much better than the sound of the rain.
“I don’t.” The words hung in the air a moment. Howard frowned slightly but Jason’s arms were still so tight around him that he didn’t want to move – that contact gave him something tangible to hold onto in the face of the rain’s cool whisperings of loss. “Don’t forget, love, our first kiss was in the rain.”
They had eventually managed to get back to their flat a little before midnight and, exhausted and overwhelmed, their first thoughts had been of sleep –a wordless pact forming between them to head for the bed without pausing. But once they were both in bed and the lights were off, both of them found themselves further away from sleep than ever. Waking up in Stoke-on-Trent that morning seemed a very faraway memory; the canal walk and the stadium and the steep gravel path to Robbie’s house just formed an old, oil-painting landscape, a piece of backdrop on an already-cluttered stage. The Manchester wind was loud as it huffed at the bedroom window and a shaft of orange light fell across the bed, the streetlamp across the road peeking through a gap in the curtains and illuminating just enough of the room to see the shadow-outlines of their discarded overnight bags on the floor at the end of the bed. Mark could just make out Gary’s blue eyes beside him – though they looked dark in the half-light and glittered a stormy black. Whatever he was thinking, Mark couldn’t quite pinpoint it; Gary seemed to still be half-stuck in the Stoke sunshine, seemed to still be trying to reconcile the breeze on the hillside with the broken glass on Robbie’s living room floor. And Mark couldn’t say he was much better himself, though he wished he could say his only thoughts were for poor Jason and poorer-still Howard because that would be the right thing, under the circumstances. Yet, for some reason, he still had an unshakeable faith in Jason and Howard, an unswerving belief that, even in the event of nuclear catastrophe, the two of them would still be standing there, bickering and kissing at the edge of the earth. When Justin had explained everything to them that night, and they’d stood watching Howard disappear into the rain, it had never been a question whether Howard would come back eventually. In fact, the only question Mark had managed to ask was ‘But, did Jason want him to leave?’ and Justin hadn’t even had to answer, he’d simply laughed and looked down at his hands with a resigned sort of smile. Jason had been asking Howard to stay since that first New Year’s eve together, back when they had each just started to grasp hold of who the other was and Justin had started to realise that Howard knew all his brother’s secrets. Somehow Justin’s look had conveyed everything they all knew; there was an inevitability to Howard and Jason, a sense that if they fell, they’d fall together. Watching them together was one of the things that kept Mark’s own mind clear, even in the face of Robbie’s confusion. Because it had never been like that with him and Robbie; if one of them fell, it was because the other had pushed them and that wasn’t the way a relationship should be. No, it should be more like him and Gary, because him and Gary, on their good days, were as happy to bicker and kiss as Howard and Jason. Sometimes when he watched Howard and Jason, Mark felt he and Gary were still learning, because their relationship had never been such a natural rainfall – for them there were always distractions, always things there to stunt their growth as individuals and as a couple. It had only been February when Mark had first heard Jason call Howard ‘love’, they’d been talking about something trivial, like coffee or cars, and they were smiling and it was as if they had been sitting on those shop stairs for a lifetime. Mark had always remembered that moment, and had fought for ones of his own with Gary. And perhaps that morning, in Robbie’s front room, Mark and Gary had finally found the final push they needed. Closer than ever – masters of the silent gesture, the glance up at the right moment, the hand held and the eyebrow raised – they had moved in unison to the door, packed in silence, colluded and conspired to leave Robbie to his own problems, leave the music alone and pretend they didn’t care whilst silently acknowledging each time they looked at each other that, in fact, they cared a lot, perhaps a lot more than they should.
Mark rolled onto his stomach and reached across the wrap an arm around Gary, pulling himself close to his side and nuzzling against his neck, looking to him for a promise of some sort that he knew Gary couldn’t really give. A promise that everything would be ok, perhaps? That he would fix it? Or maybe he was simply looking for reassurance that he wasn’t wrong for just assuming Jason and Howard would survive. Because he knew Robbie shouldn’t be so clearly at the forefront of his mind, he was sure he didn’t deserve it. When has Jason or Howard ever repaid his faith with broken glass? When had they ever been anything but apologetic if, for some reason, they let him down? They never picked a side, they never picked a fight. And, more importantly, Jason and Howard had never asked for their problems, life was just cruel enough to throw more at them. But Robbie asked for his problems, he seemed to thrive on them almost, like he craved the adrenaline rush of not doing the right thing. He had always had more energy than he knew what to do with, it had always got him into trouble. But if he didn’t have the band, then what would he spend that energy on? With no Gary to rage against, who was he going to pick fights with on a Saturday night? Was he going to lose?
“We should go and see Jay tomorrow.” Mark didn’t know why he said it, they both knew that wasn’t what was really on his mind, but Gary had nodded absently and squeezed Mark’s arm.
“Mm. But maybe it should just be you...don’t want to overwhelm him. Besides, you’ll know what to say more than me.”
“Where will you go then?”
“I have some things to sort out,” Gary sighed, glancing away. Mark nodded but his eyes were still wide as he regarded Gary in the darkness. He could hear something else behind his words, an unsatisfied urge to tie up loose ends, or at the very least try and make sense of the pattern those loose ends were making. And suddenly Mark knew. He didn’t know how he knew, what had given it away, but he could just tell was Gary really wanted to do.
“Gaz?”
“Mm?”
“When you go and see Rob...”
“Mark, I’m not...”
“When you go and see Rob – because I know you will – can you please just...tell him I’m tired of trying to guess his next move. Tell him just to...stop spinning. Just tell him to stop.”
By the time he woke up again, they’d all left and he was glad of that. He felt bad lying there just wishing they would go, he felt bad talking to them when his mind was elsewhere. Off with the man who had held his hand – because now that his mind was clearer he realised how much he wished he could’ve told him to stay. Stay...the word had been on his lips, he’d felt it there, could still feel it there, like it had been there, unsaid, all his life. Like it belongs to that man. He could still feel it, especially now. Now he was alone with the sound of the rain. Because being alone with that sound was painful and he needed someone who knew that and knew that that man knew it because he had seen it in his bright blue eyes. That rain was a part of that man, unending within him. And now Jason was alone with it and all he could hear in it was beauty, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. There was something in it that made the tips of his fingers burn and it was a beautiful feeling, laced with a tragedy he couldn’t pinpoint. Everything about it was familiar, but everything in that sensation felt strange. He tried to close his eyes, but all he saw was the man’s face (betrayed) and all he heard was the sound of the rain.
Chapter Eleven: Wednesday, Late Morning
He found him smiling, which was typical, or so Simon thought; Jason would be known as a smiler wherever he went, it had been that way since he was a baby and, no matter what else changed, that fact alone had always remained the same. The thing that Simon wondered at the most, however, was that Jason could wear that smile no matter what, wear it like his own defence mechanism, a charming armour. Though what it protected him from Simon wasn’t sure; was it his way of coping with adversity, or was it just his way of preventing anyone seeing the toll adversity had taken on him? Given everything Jason had been through, Simon suspected it was a mixture of both – Howard had been the only person to ever make that smile falter, and whilst his brothers saw that as proof of wrongdoing, Simon saw it as something else entirely; a sign that, thanks to Howard, Jason was still capable of doing more than just existing.
The two of them had always been close – Simon was the brother who Jason would confide in when Justin let him down, when their mum had pissed him off or when being the butt of most of the family’s jokes finally got to him. And Simon loved Jason dearly. Of course he loved all his brothers, but (and he suspected it wasn’t something he should admit) he loved Jason best. Jason was different, Jason was the first; for twenty whole minutes, Jason had been the only brother Simon had, the only other soul in the world he could be that close to. It was a thought he often came back to, something he dwelled on because he recognised a significance in it which he couldn’t quite make sense of. When the twins had come along, Simon’s status in the family had changed, and tangled up in that was the idea that Jason would always be the first, would always be the one Simon had the greatest duty to. The arrival of the twins had been the arrival of an age of adventure; both of the twins were wild, and Simon had had great fun causing chaos with the two of them. But Justin had been the ringleader, the blind adventurer of the group. Jason, meanwhile, had slowly grown to be the thinker. And there was something to be said for having an ally with a mind like Jason’s – even if he wasn’t on your side, he would take an active interest in trying to understand your point of view. Simon wished he could be that way more often; Jason seemed to have been the only one of the brothers who had inherited the trait, however. A trait that Simon credited fully to their mother.
Simon knocked softly on the doorframe of Jason’s room and at last Jason glanced up at him, his blue eyes fixing on Simon as he gave him an ear-to-ear smile. Simon almost wanted to laugh, because for a moment he didn’t see the cuts or the strapped-up hand, he just saw his brother – he had that same look on his face as he’d used to have just after Simon had first left home, when he’d finally stop by for Sunday lunch after going one too many weeks without managing to see his family. Of course, Simon realised now, it was just another of Jason’s defences, cunningly sweet and perfected over the years; that ability to make you look past his surface-damage. And it worked, because, for a moment, Simon could smile back at his brother honestly and without pity. Jason had no time for pity, after all. And yet, in this moment, wasn’t there a lot to pity him for? Simon sighed. Maybe pity was the wrong word.
“Mornin’ Trouble,” Simon smiled and Jason tilted his head.
“Trouble? Come on, Si, we both know I’m the good twin,” he retorted and Simon chuckled; Jason always let him pick up where they left off, always forgave him his absence in favour of pretending they were still those two kids sulking in the bedroom, muttering about how unfair their mother could be. It triggered a pang of guilt in Simon’s chest, because, whether Jason remembered it or not, he had been so absent from his life recently. He’d hardly seen him for months, always deciding he was too busy to make it all the way over to his apartment just for the sake of catching him away from the rest of the rabble. They’d exchanged a few words over tense Sunday lunches but, he was ashamed to admit, for the most part he had let his brothers fight it out over Howard, bickering about Jason’s life like they had any clue at all. He hadn’t wanted to pick a side; family was important, but he had always liked Howard. “Come on, Si, sit down and cheer up would you? At least it’s stopped raining,” Jason smiled, leaning back and quirking his eyebrows mischievously. Simon couldn’t help but smile back at him, rolling his eyes with affection before moving from the doorway.
“I see you’ve convinced them to let you out of intensive care,” Simon remarked as he flopped down into the chair by the bed and Jason simply shrugged, his eyes still glittering playfully.
“Yeah, all me that. Nothing to do with me being fully conscious, sitting up, talking to you right now, 90% intact...that’s all just coincidence.” Simon smiled, shaking his head. He suspected that Jason had already had speeches from both their parents so far this morning and so he decided to drop the subject, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
“I get it; you’re fine. You’re always fine,” he said, shooting Jason a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. “But come on, Jay. I’m not here on a mission from mum, I’m not dad’s spy...I’m not even working for Justin, much as he wishes I was. It’s me you’re talking to, just me. And I know you have tell me the truth; I’m the only big brother you’ve got, that should get me a bit of respect, shouldn’t it?” A slow smile touched Jason’s lips and Simon could see that there was gratitude in those blue eyes.
“Remember when we were kids, and I used to come over to your bed when I couldn’t sleep?”
“Yeah, you’d keep me up all night telling me how rubbish our brothers were,” Simon chuckled and Jason grinned back at him unashamedly, his whole face briefly lighting up. For a moment it was like they were those two kids again and Simon could see a sliver Jason at his best, his smile wide and his eyes bright. “I liked it. It was like we were the two big boys and they were the silly little kids.”
“Well that’s coz they are the silly little kids, Si. It’s not our fault we’re better,” Jason agreed with a soft laugh, looking down at his hands and letting out a sigh. Simon studied his face a moment; a face he knew so well, or at least, he’d thought he had. But that face had changed a lot since they were those two boys in bunk beds. Not because of the cuts across it or the smile-lines which now creased the corners of those eyes, but because of something else, something they’d all taken for granted; Howard. Howard was written all over Jason’s face, one way or another. Because, Simon realised, for so many years now, Jason’s face had become so open; wide smiles and eyes that glittered slightly even in the darkness, every emotion there to be read – the shutters had finally been thrown back. Howard had taken down years of barriers, barriers which Jason had put up to everyone, even them. And now Jason was different, softened. More like the kid he’d been before their dad had left, only better, wiser. Less likely to be hurt when they poked fun. But here, in this moment, there was an absence in Jason’s eyes, an acknowledgement that something was missing. It was obvious; Jason could’ve been content alone forever if it hadn’t been for Howard, could’ve lived a life of thinking and been more than fine. But the way Simon saw it, some songs are beautiful before you add the harmony...but you can’t help but wonder, what would a harmony sound like? Howard had harmonised, without being invited to, and Jason had been so fascinated by the sound that he had attached himself to it. And everyone had grown so used to the song in its new, better form that they’d stopped thinking it was anything out of the ordinary. But now listen to it – you can hear the missing space where that harmony should be. A song forever altered, by absence just as much as presence. Jason was biting his lip, his eyes dull and downcast and as Simon watched him he realised that Jason knew it too. But how? If he didn’t know Howard then surely he couldn’t...but no, Simon knew what he saw in his brother’s face.
“You know you’re my favourite little brother, right?”
“Yeah – coz for twenty whole minutes, I was your only little brother,” Jason shot back with a small, sly smile. How did he always know? Simon rolled his eyes and gave Jason’s knee a small slap, forcing Jason’s gaze up to meet his.
“Hey, it’s important to me, ok? Coz...even though I was too small at the time to realise it, it meant something. You’ve never not known being someone’s big brother, you’ve always had Justin there. But me, I actually had, for the very first time, someone who depended on me, you know? I mean, I wasn’t to know you’d be so stubbornly independent, was I! You were the first, Jay. And if I lose you...if I lose you or you get hurt, then I might as well have screwed it all up.”
“Then I guess you know how I feel,” Jason half-whispered, his eyes turning down again. He stared intently at his hands and Simon’s expression wavered. He wanted to reach out, to hug him, but something kept him firmly in his seat. Jason swallowed and closed his eyes. “I feel like I’ve lost something. And if I don’t figure out a way of fixing that...then everything else is going to go to hell.” Simon shook his head at that, placing his hand on Jason’s knee. The action made him flinch slightly and for a moment Simon thought he’d hurt him. But then Jason flicked a glance up to meet his eyes and he realised that the only pain there wasn’t physical.
“Trust me on this one, Jay, you and Howard? Bombproof.” Jason’s lips quirked into a half-smile.
“I never said his name,” he murmured and Simon laughed.
“Please, you never have to. He’s just...always somewhere when it comes to you.”
“I wouldn’t know. But you want to know something funny that I did know? I knew you were going to say that; bombproof.”
“You always know everything,” Simon dismissed jokingly but Jason shook his head.
“No I don’t, I just talk a lot. There’s a difference.”
“And this is different to you just talking then?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Honestly? Yes. Bombproof. I know it sounds daft, Si, but I promise you, someone’s said that before. But I...I just don’t know why I would know that.”
He was sitting on the back steps having a cigarette when Jason found him; third step down, hunched over, a deep frown denting his forehead. It was one of those black Manchester nights where the reflections of the streetlamps danced in the puddles and you couldn’t see the stars for fog and everything was ridiculously still. Jason’s footsteps scratched slightly on the concrete and the sound of the door closing behind him made dull thud which barely touched the stillness of the night. Howard knew it was Jason before he’d turned his head, but he did turn, just slightly, in time to see Jason’s outline half-illuminated by the light which came from inside. Their bodies seemed to conform to an unspoken choreography and somewhere in the quiet night the rhythm slowed as Jason came down the steps, sitting down next to Howard wordlessly. Though he was staring dead ahead, he still nudged Howard’s shoulder with his own and, despite the absence of a smile on his lips, his eyes were dancing with an inner light (just like the Manchester puddles). As much as Howard wanted to preserve his misery he struggled not to grin, couldn’t stop himself from being touched by Jason’s finding him here. His joining him here.
“My family can be a bit much sometimes. Especially dad,” Jason murmured after a few minutes of watching the night’s sky in silence. His breath made a mist in the air, a little ghost of him that swam out into the darkness, catching Howard’s eye. “Si can be alright when you get him alone, but when they descend en masse they’re terrifying. Every birthday as a kid, I wondered what they were going to do to me that year. It was usually horrendous.” Howard’s lips twitched up briefly and he knew Jason saw it. “They don’t mean to destroy things, How. They don’t even know they’re doing it. They just assume everyone is on their wavelength and plough on. I figured it out around the time Dom turned five; you have to keep up the pace to survive.” Howard nodded slowly, chucking his cigarette to the ground, grinding it underfoot before turning his head to look at Jason properly. His blue eyes were a different shade in the night, a midnight grey that Howard was reluctant to name as such – after all, clouds were grey too but there was nothing in the clouds but thunder. That wasn’t Jason.
“Does it ever get anymore...normal?” Howard asked and Jason laughed softly. He had silently linked their arms and now he nudged at Howard’s hand with his knuckles. Howard's hand unclenched immediately, instinctively, and Jason was quick to intertwine their fingers. His smile was playful as he looked up into Howard’s face, but his eyes had become more serious, a darker blue.
“Well...would you describe me as normal?” It was Howard’s turn to laugh and he looked away, shaking his head slightly. He felt Jason rest his chin on his shoulder. “Didn’t think so,” he chuckled. “But would you describe me as worth it?” Howard looked back up at Jason then.
“Come on, love, you know the answer to that,” he protested softly and Jason’s smile was knowing, though Howard could see in his eyes he wasn’t complacent, only grateful.
“So, then, love...you think you and me will survive the night? My family and all?” he whispered, leaning his forehead against Howard’s. Howard smiled back at him, giving a shy roll of his eyes, suddenly feeling foolish for being out here moping on such a cold night when Jason’s eyes were so warm, asking him to come inside.
“Sure we will, we’re bombproof,” he grinned and Jason laughed.
“This from the man sitting on my dad’s back step, smoking a cig and keeping the company of the moon.” Howard held Jason’s eyes then, shrugging slightly.
“I’m not alone though. You’re here.” Jason stilled then, his eyes studying Howard’s face carefully.
“Bombproof,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“Bombproof,” Howard echoed. The corner of Jason’s mouth slowly curved up and he sat up just enough to press a lingering kiss to Howard’s cheek.
“Bombproof it is then, Donald. On one condition...”
“Name your price, Orange.”
“No more hiding unless you hide with me.” Jason’s eyes were aglitter once more as he held out his free hand, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Howard, who grinned back at him, accepting the high-five with a laugh.
“Deal.” Howard pulled Jason closer, turning his high-five into a clasp. “But only after one more kiss.”
Mark hesitated as he came into the lounge, watching in sleepy curiosity as Gary – clearly far more bright and alert than himself – set about lifting up the sofa cushions. He was muttering under his breath about his keys and frowning, digging around hurriedly, entirely oblivious to Mark’s presence. His shoulders were tense and those usually sharp eyes of his looked dim and tired. Mark tried to fight the tiredness of his own brain and concentrate, attempting to make sense of Gary’s performance but, for the most part, he failed.
“Are you going somewhere?” Mark croaked after a few more minutes watching Gary pace about. Gary turned sharply, startled by the interruption to his search, and he looked Mark up and down, as though he’d forgotten he lived there. Mark ran his hand through his sleep-mussed hair, his eyes barely open as he stifled a yawn, and the pause gave Gary a chance to regain his composure.
“You’re up” he stated slowly, needlessly, a half-hearted smile touching his lips. Mark, still in his pyjamas, felt foolish then, because Gary was surprisingly smartly dressed, his hair combed and his hands clasped together like he was ready for business.
“So are you,” Mark replied, his eyes suddenly open wider as he looked Gary up and down.
“Yeah, I uh...I was just looking for my keys. Thought I might drive over to Dawn’s and pick up Cadbury, take him for a walk and try and clear my head, you know?” Gary crossed the space between himself and Mark as he spoke, coming over to his husband in order to place a lingering kiss against his forehead. “I didn’t wake you did I?”
“No. But you should have done – I meant to get up early today. I was going to visit Jay...” Mark trailed off. A small part of him had hoped that Gary would have interrupted him with amazement and confusion ‘Visit Jay? Why would you need to do that? He and Howard have gone away for the week, remember? Anyone would think you thought something bad had happened, Marko!’ But those words never came, instead Gary’s eyes simply clouded with a foggy sort of sadness and, though Mark couldn’t be sure, something a little like guilt. So yesterday had happened then.
“I just thought you needed the rest,” Gary sighed, cupping Mark’s cheek in his hand and tracing a thumb along one of the dark circles under his eyes. “Yesterday was...a lot.”
“And yet you’re still up at the crack of dawn, hunting for your keys,” Mark pointed out softly and Gary looked away, biting the inside of his cheek and studying the floor intently. “It’s ok. You’re not the sort of bloke to deal with a crisis by sitting around. You need to go out and...do.”
“Yeah...that sounds about right I guess,” Gary agreed quietly, still not meeting Mark’s eyes. “I just don’t know what to do for the best , Marko. Do we sit around here all day worrying and trying to work out what could’ve been done differently...or do we do something, you know? Try and make something better, even if it’s only something small.” Gary risked meeting Mark’s eyes then and he was relieved to see a small smile on his face.
“Do something like take Cadbury out for a little stroll, you mean? You’re really thinking that big are you?” Mark enquired, his eyes bright and mischievous. Gary laughed self-consciously and shook his head, turning his eyes skywards.
“Yes, like take Cadbury out for a stroll – is that so bad?” he laughed softly and Mark laughed too, a slightly sad smile on his lips.
“Maybe not...maybe it’s genius. It’s up to you, Gaz.”
“Really?”
“I trust your judgement, Gaz, you know? I trust it totally. If you think it’s right then...it’s right.” Gary watched Mark’s face a moment before pressing another, longer kiss to his forehead.
“Thank you.”
“It’s fine, Gaz. Seriously. But just...just remember that he can’t blame you anymore. If he wants another chance, then he can’t keep pretending it’s all your fault. And he definitely can’t ever take your music away from you, ok? It’s in your blood and nothing he says will change that.”
“Are we still talking about Cadbury?” Gary asked with feigned innocence and Mark couldn’t help but laugh, rising up onto tiptoe to place his hands either side of Gary’s face, looking him in the eye.
“You left your keys on the bedside table – stop talking bullshit, Barlow, it’s a long drive to Stoke-on-Trent.”
Sunrise was the only clear memory Howard had of the past twelve hours – he was aware that he had finally fallen asleep slightly before it, and that he had woken up again slightly after it. It was a fact he was strangely grateful for; the more his body ached from lack of sleep, the less his could notice the difference between sleep-deprivation and out-and-out heartbreak. Part of him wondered how he’d even managed to get himself this far, because by rights he should be broken by now, curled up on the floor, sleeping or crying (he wasn’t sure which of the two was the most likely to happen when everything finally caught up with him.) He’d been putting it off all morning, coming back here. He hadn’t wanted to see Jason again; he feared finding something which wasn’t the same as he needed it to be, like when he’d wanted nothing more than to be home last night, only to discover it wasn’t the home he remembered anymore. But now, standing here, he realised how stupid he had been, could hardly understand how he’d stayed away so long. Because Jason was gorgeous, wasn’t he? All tanned skin and broad shoulders – even with cuts across his face he was beautiful, and he looked up at Howard in a way that told him the feeling was mutual. Always hyper-aware of each other, Jason hadn’t needed Howard to knock, he’d simply known he’d be standing there when he looked up; sad blue eyes peeking out from behind dark curls which he suspected took longer to tame than Howard would readily admit. For a second they both regarded each other in silence, the corners of their lips quirked up in matching, tentative smiles.
“Hey,” Howard let out in a gruff half-whisper. Jason was still smiling at him and it almost made him feel shy – even though he knew those eyes so well, it never stopped surprising him when he was the cause of their twinkling,
“Hey.” Jason’s voice was soft and there was almost a mischief in his eyes now – whilst his smile was cautious, his eyes were alight and that was enough to have Howard smiling back at him from across the room. Silently Jason shifted his weight along the bed, his eyes not leaving Howard’s. And, as was the way with them, nothing really needed to be said. Howard’s body had accepted the invitation before his mind had caught up with him and he was crossing the room before he could remember that there were reasons they shouldn’t sit this close. They shouldn’t let skin touch skin, because it would only persuade them everything was ok and then they’d fall back into life without anything really being resolved, they’d only end up causing more damage to each other’s lives if they sat this close, Howard was sure. But still he couldn’t resist the closeness which Jason offered him. He sat down on the bed beside him, only keeping the slightest of distances between their shoulders.“You look tired,” Jason murmured then and Howard felt the light touch of Jason’s hand on his arm. He glanced up and their blue eyes met immediately. Howard’s lips curved up into a rueful smile.
“I could probably tell you the exact time every shower passed over Manchester last night,” he admitted with a self-conscious shrug. Jason’s hand was still resting on his arm and he felt him give it the smallest of squeezes. Was that understanding, sympathy? No. It was recognition, of sorts.
“Except I wouldn’t ask you to – I’ve already got a pretty good idea myself.”
“No you don’t, your watch always gains time.” Howard couldn’t resist playing this game with him, and from the way Jason’s eyes were dancing he suspected Jason couldn’t resist it either.
“Only someone who’s always late would say that,” Jason chuckled gently, raising his eyebrows at Howard and making him laugh. He shook his head slightly, closing his eyes a moment as he tried to restore oxygen to his brain. Was this normal? Should it be this simple? For a moment the two of them sat in silence once more, Jason’s hand still on Howard’s arm – it was such an innocuous gesture, but that was what made it mean so much to Howard; the sheer normality of it. Jason was still so comfortable with him – he might not remember, but his body didn’t seem to have forgotten.
“I don’t mind the not sleeping, I just hate that sound,” Howard sighed and Jason frowned at him.
“What sound?” Howard glanced away, biting his lip.
“You know...the sound of the rain.” Jason laughed then, though the sound of it was anything but spiteful. His face was all affection and his hand was gently squeezing Howard’s arm again.
“This is Manchester. We dance in the rain in Manchester,” he insisted.
“You’d dance anywhere,” Howard shot back, pulling a face, his eyes suddenly bright and playful. He liked this game, it was their game and it made everything feel normal. He felt safe playing this game, he felt alive with Jason’s hand on his arm.
“Would you watch me?” Jason’s eyebrows were quirked up.
“Always,” Howard answered honestly and Jason laughed, shaking his head. He finally removed his hand from Howard’s arm, shifting his weight to rest his chin on his hand instead. His eyes glittered quietly as he studied Howard’s.
“It’s always like this for us, isn’t it,” he remarked quietly, a statement not a question.
“Like what?” Howard’s voice was small – he knew, but he wanted Jason to say it.
“Like...breathing. Easy,” Jason said, his eyes meeting Howard’s.
“Pretty much...until it starts to rain,” Howard replied. “You know, before I met you I always slept with the curtains drawn. But now...you taught me the sound of rain at midnight. And I think I loved it once. Until I learnt what it sounded like when I was alone.”
“Oh, love.” Howard looked up then, every cell in his body instantly buzzing. Jason seemed to sense the jolt which had gone through him and he watched Howard intently, his whole body still, as though he were waiting for some form of instruction. Howard turned himself slightly, reaching out a hand to cup Jason’s face. Still Jason did not move, though his eyes did flicker closed as he allowed Howard to move his thumb across his skin. The ridges of Howard’s fingertips grazed his cuts and he leant into the gentle pressure of that rough hand. Howard knew; no one else but him.
“Why did you call me love?” Howard asked gently. Jason’s eyes opened then and he looked into Howard’s eyes unwaveringly.
“Because it’s what you are.” Their faces were close now, their lips almost touching, and Howard’s hand had come to rest against Jason’s neck. “It all traces back to you. I don’t understand who I am...I don’t understand the person I am until I’m with you. And even if I don’t know you, I know what you are. And you are love.” For a whole minute they hung there, two sets of blue eyes shining nervously back at each other in stillness and silence. The kiss was in the air without their lips even touching. Or at least, it was until Howard looked away.
“I have to go.” Howard pushed himself from the bed so quickly that Jason almost forgot to react. “I should go,” Howard whispered, touching a hand to his lip, brushing away a kiss that had never really been there. “I should go,” he repeated, more to himself than to Jason, and he took a faltering step towards the door. “This’ll only end in more rain.”
“Howard,” Jason said softly, moving himself ever-so-slightly along the bed in Howard’s direction. Howard stilled at the sound, but he refused to meet Jason’s eyes. He closed his own eyes tightly, keeping his body just turned away from Jason’s in an attempt at self defence. But he didn’t leave. “Howard,” Jason said again, close enough now to rest his hand on Howard’s arm once more. “Stay.” Howard swallowed hard and shook his head. Stay; that word that had come to mean so much to them – more sacred than the often repeated ‘I love you’, more memories attached to it than either of their own names. But all Howard could think of was the sound of rain on their bedroom window, obscuring any whispered ‘Stay’ that might have been shared under the sheets.
“I’m sorry, Jay.” Howard was aware of Jason’s hand, falling slowly from his arm as turned and walked away.
Mark sighed and watched the closed door which Gary had just disappeared through. He’d lost all track of his own thoughts and the only idea he could seize upon with any enthusiasm was the idea of going back to bed. Maybe it was self indulgent, maybe it was just plain lazy, but some stubborn, not-as-nice-as-usual part of him reminded him of the feeling of the glass shattering beneath him, and Robbie’s steely eyes. Didn’t he deserve a rest? He tried not to think of Howard and Jason – who deserved a rest from life’s constant tests more than anyone, certainly more than him. When a relationship was built like theirs, was there really any need to pick at the foundations? Or was it that constant picking that kept it strong? Mark wished he knew the answer, but just thinking about it hurt his head and once more his thoughts turned to his pillow. Slowly he pushed himself up off the sofa, grabbing the mug of tea Gary had been kind enough to make for him before he left and heading down the corridor towards the bedroom. But as he walked past the open door of the spare room, something stopped him in his tracks.
The room was messier than ever and he knew it was starting to drive Gary mad; he couldn’t play his piano in there anymore, let alone try and write anything, but for some reason neither he nor Mark ever got around to tidying it. Boxes were piled up in corners, many of them with old clothes of Mark’s spilling out of the top, others with out-of-date recording equipment and wires forming nests inside them. On top of Gary’s piano sat a box of CDs and notes and old photographs, all in a mismatched heap – and it was that box with Mark found himself drawn to. On top was a photograph of Barlow’s, Jason and Howard sitting side by side on the front step one summer, Mark standing behind them, his hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun – a nice photo, though Mark couldn’t remember for the life of him why it had been taken. It was an odd-one-out amongst the other photographs in the box, most of which depicted significant events, performances and birthdays and the odd anniversary, things which used to be in frames before more recent photographs had replaced them. All of the notes seemed to be scraps of songs, some completed lyrics, others hand-drawn sheet music, fragments and finished compositions intermingling, everything seemingly pre-Robbie. Mark recognised Jason’s handwriting on some, little notes by certain lyrics which gave clues as to the significance of specific lines – Jason was always concerned with meaning more than anything. Mark smiled as he picked through the box’s contents, because really, this forgotten box charted some of their best memories. Time together, time spent with music...and Mark’s personal favourite; time performing. And then he noticed a red CD-case sticking out from underneath one of Gary’s old notebooks. Mark felt his breath catch as he reached out to pull it free, his fingers tentative, as though the disc contained in that semi-see-through case may, at any minute, simply splinter and crumble away. Gary’s handwriting sprawled across it in smudgy marker pen and as Mark read the words he felt a shiver dance its way down his spine. He knew why he’d been drawn to this box now, and he suspected his plans of going back to bed had just been put to a firm end.
Chapter Twelve: Wednesday, The Late Afternoon Of A Long English Summer
Gary squinted against the sunlight as he stepped out of his car. The ground was high, overlooking the rest of the city, which seemed to sit in orbit below. Gary could feel a difference in the air, the crispness of it and the strength of the wind. Stoke-on-Trent sprawled out in front of him, whilst behind him the Britannia Stadium stood in smart red and white, a snapped contrast to the bold blue summer sky behind. The only sound for miles was the chink-pause-t-chink of the stadium flags being whipped against their poles; the breeze up here was neither cold nor constant, it simply gusted in, rising and falling every so often, strangely peaceful as it followed a rhythm which only it could understand. Gary smiled slightly. It almost seemed a shame that when the football season came back, this place would be crammed with people. There was a beauty in this emptiness, helped keep your head clear. He turned and opened the back door of the car, letting Cadbury jump down onto the tarmac. The dog’s dark eyes took in the view, briefly, before he began trotting off to explore, and Gary moved to follow him, his eyes still searching the car park for the statue Robbie had mentioned in his text. Cadbury trotted just ahead of him, setting their course for the Boothen End and guiding them away from the smart front-entrance of the ground.
The statue of Sir Stanley Matthews was set back from the stadium, turned away to allow Sir Stan the honour of overlooking the city he had called home. Cadbury found it before Gary, though Gary suspected the dog had sensed a very different presence to that of the footballing legend; the paved circle around the sculpture was framed by three benches and, on one such bench, Robbie Williams was sitting alone, gazing out over Stoke-on-Trent with his shoulders hunched. He looked up as Cadbury came barrelling towards him, the sound of his excitable panting interrupting the still-rhythmic chink-pause-t-chink of the stadium flags. Robbie’s face cracked into a grin as the dog nuzzled him and he set about scratching behind his ears, babbling affectionate nonsense and letting Cadbury lick his face. The dog pressed his wet nose up to Robbie’s own nose and Gary chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Cadbury and Robbie probably got on better than the rest of the band combined, he mused. But really, how was this the same man from yesterday? Sure, there were bags under Robbie’s eyes, but his grin was so broad, so honest. Cheeky, yes, but angry? No, that angry man from yesterday didn’t live in that face. A temporary madness, a demon? Call it what you like, but Robbie’s anger wasn’t really anger, it was fear. Gary shoved his hands in his pockets, crossing from the tarmac of the car park and into the paved circle. He glanced up at the statue for a moment before looking back behind him to where the Britannia stood then he looked back over to where Robbie was sitting, now quiet as he stroked Cadbury’s soft head.
“Sir Stanley Matthews?” Gary raised an eyebrow and Robbie looked up at him for the first time. “You’re not switching sides on us are you?” Gary asked lightly and Robbie smiled a smile which was unnaturally shy.
“No fear,” he assured Gary softly, looking back down to Cadbury. “I just come here to think sometimes. Me and Sir Stan here go way back.” Robbie paused in scratching behind Cadbury’s ears in order to look up at the statue and Gary was surprised to see genuine reverence there. “Stoke lad done good,” Robbie murmured, his blue eyes bloodshot but determined.
“A local legend’s a local legend, I guess, no matter what side he plays for,” Gary said, still regarding Robbie with mild confusion. He took a step further into the circle, moving towards the statue in order to get a better look. The closer he came to the bench on which Robbie sat, the more Gary could see the younger man’s shoulders tensing.
“You wanna hear something crazy about everyone’s favourite Stoke Legend here though?” Robbie’s grin was back and Gary couldn’t resist taking another step closer.
“Go on,” he laughed. Robbie smirked and looked away. Gary could see him looking at the statue out of the corner of his eye and so he looked too. The three depictions of the famous footballer were basked in brilliant summer sunlight, shadows falling perfectly to emphasise the sculptures’ lines – Gary supposed it was the intention all along, but it did look as though the man was moving, the Wizard of the Dribble making his way down the pitch just like the glory days. Robbie’s smile was strangely fond, and he nodded, as if some internal realisation had just received his final stamp of approval.
“Stan’s not really theirs, you know. He wanted to play for this city’s less famous (though far superior) half.” The statement was delivered with a bold-as-brass look into Gary’s face as Robbie waited for a reaction. And reaction Gary gave him, both his eyebrows raising in comical unison. “Told you it was crazy.” Robbie let out a long sigh, finally releasing Cadbury and leaning back. His eyes were still on the statue, even as Gary took another step towards him and so slowly Gary too turned his head back to the three sculptures atop their large, sturdy stone base. Red and white flowers were planted around and, directly beneath the ‘Sir Stanley Matthews CBE, 1915-2000’ inscription, a collection of red and white striped wreaths had amassed over the course of the summer. "He wanted to play for the nobler half of Stoke. But his dad told him no chance – if he was ever going to get anywhere, he had to try out for Stoke. He was just...right for them, you know? They were on his level, and they had the resources to help him go far.” Robbie looked over to Gary then, their eyes meeting briefly before Robbie lost his nerve and looked away again. “And his dad obviously knew best.” Gary’s lips twitched into a small, thoughtful smile and he closed the remaining gap between himself and Robbie’s bench, sitting himself down at the opposite end of it. Cadbury trotted up to him then putting his head in his lap, and for a moment Robbie stared up at the statue in silence, his whole body rigidly still. “His dad was right, you know. Stoke looked after him. And ok, he wasn’t quite a one-club man...but Stoke City...it always had a place with him, you know? They looked after him. That group of people he was supposed to distrust and dislike, but he went in there with an open mind and he saw the good in them. That advice from his dad, it must’ve been so hard to swallow, you know? You’re good, but not so good that you can do it all on your own. But he wasn’t daft. He didn’t think about that stuff. He just...worked with people, not against them. The enemy wasn’t the enemy. And the person who told him what he didn’t want to hear was actually just looking out for him all along.” Robbie was silent for a moment. He began picking invisible fluff from his clothes, scrunching up his face into odd expression which Gary couldn’t quite read. “He must’ve felt loved here. I mean, his ashes are buried under the centre-circle now, right here, at the Brit – you know that?” Robbie looked up at Gary who smiled back at him quietly.
“I do now,” he said. Robbie smiled slightly. Robbie pulled one knee up to his chest and rested his chin on it. “I’m sorry, Gaz,” Rob half-whispered into the silence and slowly he turned his head, his blue eyes meeting with Gary’s. There was sincerity there. There was regret and loss and fear there too, but Gary couldn’t hold it against him as long as the sincerity remained. Who could blame him, after all? Robbie Williams had had a lot of rejection in life, there were just some rejections he feared more than others. And wounded animals have a tendency to lash out, don’t they? Gary let out a small sigh, glancing across towards the city skyline. The incinerator was there, as ever, but from here it seemed less of a feature of the cityscape, instead the sunlight caught the other buildings of the city, an accent of bright yellow falling across the rooftops and the trees and the railway’s power lines. He tried to process being back here. Tried to process sitting next to Robbie now like everything was normal. Gary didn’t tend to dwell on the sound of broken glass – before something had finished crumbling around him he was already standing waiting with the glue, trying to work out where to start. And here, on this hill, with Cadbury and Robbie and Sir Stan, the calmness made him remember why it was he worked so hard. Who wouldn’t want to fight for a moment in the summer sunshine, the breeze ruffling their hair, the clink-pause-t-chink of the flags echoing in the air?
“Jay’s going to be ok, just so you know,” Gary said softly and Robbie smiled, a rush of relief filling his body. His shoulders sagged and he rubbed his hands over his face.
“Thank God.”
“Had his mum on the phone to me earlier...he’s sitting up, talking everyone’s ears off...”
“Being Jay,” Robbie supplied, flicking a cheeky glance across at Gary, which Gary met with a faux-stern glare of his own. Both men bit back chuckles and turned away from each other.
“He got pretty beaten up by it all...the way the doctors were talking...” Gary trailed off, shuddering slightly, his spine tingling at the memory of the feeling of loss careering towards him before swerving at the last minute, leaving him to bask in fear, relief and confusion.
“Is Howard ok?” Robbie watched Gary’s normally bright eyes fog over and something in the pit of his stomach – something unrelated to yesterday’s alcohol intake – churned over painfully.
“Come on, Rob, you’ve seen the way he looks at Jay, I think everyone except the two of them knows you can see them flirting from space...” Gary sighed, shaking his head slightly. He felt awful for not going to see Howard. But something told him it wouldn’t make a difference – only Jason could really help him and, perhaps, Howard didn’t want anyone else but Jason getting involved anyway.
“Yeah, I know. Great Wall of China and Jay and Howard. Earth’s greatest achievements,” Robbie said with a grin and Gary laughed.
“Well, let’s hope so...Howard had his world blown apart, reconstructed and then blown apart again last night...I think it might’ve destroyed a lesser man completely, had him being admitted to hospital himself from a nervous breakdown. I mean...when Jay woke up he didn’t....but it’ll be ok. I know Jay, I know he’ll find a way to make it ok.” Robbie didn’t want to push Gary any further on the topic. As intrigued as he was, he suspected Gary had his reasons for being guarded.
“Jay is going to be ok though? He is fine?” he asked softly and Gary nodded.
“Cut and bruised and a little bit broken, but yeah, he’s going to be ok.” There was a pause. Robbie chewed on his lip, suddenly fascinated by the floor.
“And Mark?” Robbie’s heart lurched against his ribcage as Gary let out a long sigh.
“Mark...well, I think Mark just needs a sign.”
“A sign of what?” Robbie asked and Gary looked back up to Sir Stan with a small smile.
“A sign that you’re ready to stop fighting for the sake of fighting.” Robbie mirrored Gary’s smile.
“Stoke boy done good,” he murmured in reply.
Howard closed the bedroom door behind him and then pressed his back flat against it, slowly sliding down to the floor. As he ran his hands through his hair, his eyes flickered closed and, for a moment, he could almost feel the sensation of Jason’s hand on his arm again, his steady breaths against his lips. Every cell in his body was aching now, his heart fast and angry against his ribcage; he shouldn’t have walked away. But, he reasoned, wasn’t it the smart thing to do? Jason didn’t know him. Not the way he had, the way he should. He had called him ‘love’, but he hadn’t said he was in love. He had let Howard touch his cuts, but he hadn’t let their lips meet. Betrayal. Howard would’ve blamed the rain for that voice, would’ve dismissed it, but today it was sunny and it left him with no option but to admit that there was some small part of him still stung by Jason’s ability to forget. He’d expected that seeing Jason would make him want to talk and talk, endlessly talk, say a million things, on a mission to retrieve those memories. But no. Every time he tried to behave the way he thought he ought to, he came up against the same road block over and over again; Jason had just...forgotten. It shouldn’t be that easy. Howard hated himself for it, but he couldn’t get past it. Come on, Howard, you know this story. Howard squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, fighting off tears. Look at it another way then; it shouldn’t be this hard. All they’d done for years now was struggle on, wasn’t it? But this time they’d both been given another option, a clean break. And sure, their first instinct had been to try and stay close, but maybe their first instinct wasn’t their best. It was reckless. A kiss would cure them now, maybe. But persuading Jason to remember, cajoling him, holding him, persuading him to trust – what would it do in time? Reckless, dangerous, treacherous path – what good would it do either of them? More rain, more rain. And (Howard bit hard on his lip) it wouldn’t change the fact that Jason had forgotten. He’d forgotten. He’d promised, he’d promised! Always should mean always and yet it hadn’t. Betrayal, that word again. Then Howard thought back to Jason’s face, the feel of the cuts, the slight pressure of his head against his palm. Reckless, stupid, selfish path. It was foolhardy. And yet, he couldn’t deny it...he had liked the feeling. The feeling of Jason falling. Because he had been falling, just like he had when they first met. So, so easily falling.
Howard opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the bright summer light which streamed in through the bedroom windows. He looked around him and he tried to work out where his influence ended and Jason’s began. It was an experiment; how easy was it exactly to just...be apart. To separate the physical things, to separate the lives. To separate the people. They’d been apart once. They’d not even known each other once. And he knew that once, he had been able to sleep through the sound of the rain.
“I hear you’re fed up of your brothers, so I thought I’ve come and cheer you up a bit.” When Jason looked up from the magazine he’d been skimming through aimlessly for the previous hour, he was greeted with one of those sights that made it impossible not to smile; Mark Owen, head poking through the doorway, a cheeky smile splintering his face.
“Hiya Markie.” Mark brought the rest of his body into the room, relieved to see Jason smiling. The older man’s shoulders were slumped slightly, and he couldn’t help but notice there was a distance in those normally bright blue eyes. But there was something genuine in that smile – it was Jason’s unmistakeable smile. Mark knew he could always win those smiles from Jason. Unlike Rob, Mark had never had any real issue with Jason’s tendency to play the brother roll. He didn’t find it condescending at all, he found it sweet. It was sweet that Jason cared enough to get annoyed with him. It was sweet that Jason cared enough to want to help. Mark was overtaken by a sudden urge to hug him; he was just so desperately glad to see him sitting there, smiling up at him, a little bruised but essentially still the Jason he loved so dearly, that it was hard to know how to express it.
“Budge up then,” Mark let out with more enthusiasm than perhaps he should and Jason laughed at him softly. In a second Mark had crossed the room, climbing immediately onto Jason’s hospital bed like a little kid. And Jason, for his part, simply rolled his eyes fondly, choosing to indulge Mark by shifting his weight so that the two of them could perch side by side, just about sharing space on the propped-up pillows. Mark fidgeted a moment, and Jason watched him, shaking his head slightly in amusement and, after a moment, Mark settled, allowing silence to fill the room for a whole minute before letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Jay, you have no idea just how messed up things nearly got yesterday.” Mark’s voice was soft and, as Jason glanced down at the younger man’s face, he saw something in those usually bright eyes which was almost haunted. He tossed the magazine away and, only wincing slightly at the movement, turned his body so as to face Mark better. He did look tired. He looked like someone who had five conflicting emotions fighting for space in his head.
“You look done-in,” Jason said gently and Mark laughed, looking up at him with a broad grin.
“You know that’s the last thing anyone wants to hear from someone who only recently left intensive care, right?” Jason rolled his eyes fondly at the tease, elbowing Mark slightly.
“Play nice or you’re demoted to the chair,” he retorted and Mark’s eyes danced.
“Sorry, I forgot we’ve all been making a fuss about nothing.”
“Nothing might be pushing it. But I hardly think I’m out for the count.”
“You never are, Jay,” Mark smiled, nudging Jason gently with his shoulder and making him laugh. “And actually, all things considered, you don’t look half bad.”
“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jason smirked and Mark chuckled slightly. “But please, please, pass the information onto my brothers on your way home.” Mark’s grin broadened.
“God bless The Orange Family. You lot are a mess, you know that?” Jason nodded thoughtfully.
“A bit of a neurotic bunch,” he agreed with a slight incline of his head and a sigh that surprised Mark with its heaviness. For a moment the two men sat in silence, both grappling still with flashes of the injuries (physical and otherwise) of the last twenty-four hours. Jason’s head was still aching from Howard’s visit, and Mark’s heart was still beating heavy as he felt the pressure of the CD box tucked into his jacket pocket.
“It started in Stoke, walking around with Gaz in the sunshine. It was lovely. Then before I know it, Robbie Williams is kicking off, there’s a broken glass coffee table on the floor, I’m on the floor, and Gaz is telling me that my best mate just got packed off in an ambulance. And suddenly it’s raining cats, dogs and possibly a few hamsters...and I don’t think I’ve even processed half of it. I’m just carrying on as if today’s an ordinary day.” Mark glanced over at Jason then, studying his expression and trying to gauge what was going through his head. He couldn’t fathom it. Those eyes could be so expressive sometimes, but now all Mark could see in them was a hollow shade of blue and nothing more profound than that. Jason was looking down at his hands and Mark could see his brow was creased in concentration, though what he was concentrating on it was hard to say. It seemed strange to see him without his ring, but surely that made no difference to Jason, not if he didn’t remember. Mark bit his lip. “You know, Jay, you and Howard...” Mark felt the moment when Jason’s blue eyes turned back to him – it was only a slow, quiet glance, but Howard’s name had put life in it and Mark’s lips curved into a small smile. “I was in the shop the first day you two met. I feel like that makes me a part of history or something.” Jason laughed softly, looking back down at his hands. “Jay, you and Howard, you and him you’re...you’re something good. You can be teasing each other, bickering with each other, arguing with each other...but the whole time no one is ever in any doubt that you love each other. You and him...you’re...” Mark stopped, looking carefully across at Jason, trying to judge his reaction. And, to his surprise, a small smile was playing on Jason’s lips, his blue eyes were still dim but there was something more behind them, something which was getting stronger. That’s when it occurred to him; Howard had already been here. Of course Howard had already been here. “Jason Orange!” Jason looked up at the address, mildly confused, and Mark grinned back at him cheekily. “Jason Orange, you don’t know a thing about the man and yet you are head over bloody heels!” Mark’s eyes were wide now and his childlike teasing made Jason laugh. He let his head fall back, studying the ceiling a moment before risking another look at Mark’s still-beaming face.
“It’s not that simple, you know,” he said, softly, sadly. Mark linked his arm through Jason’s, hugging at it affectionately. He tried to temper his grin, because he wanted Jason to know that he wasn’t pushing him to admit anything he didn’t want to, he wasn’t even mocking him. He was just trying to help. Jason saw the sympathy there and, though it made him feel a little uncomfortable, he couldn’t deny he was grateful of it. “I’m so confused.” The admission came so quietly. It was the sort of admission Jason wouldn’t usually make to anyone but Howard and for a moment the weight of that responsibility pressed down on Mark. He thought back to the CD in his pocket and he almost mentioned it, but then Jason swallowed and closed his eyes and every line of his expression changed. The shift was subtle but it was there – the confusion was replaced by an ineffable, inexplicable knowing. “All I know is a name, really. All I have is a hello, and a name and the sound of the rain. And it shouldn’t be enough...” Jason faltered. “I know his face. I know that sounds...”
“No.” Mark shook his head, sitting up a little, his eyes steady and kind. “It sounds...right.” The corner of Jason’s lips quirked up for a moment.
“I don’t know about love, Markie. I don’t know about...about how I could say that when I don’t know him. But I know enough to say that he makes me hope. I see him and I can’t help but hope.”
In the minute’s silence that passed between them, Mark came to a decision. It was breaking a promise, in many ways, but Mark had decided that some things were just more important, and this needed to be done. He reached into his jacket pocket, slowly producing the CD and Jason looked up at the action. Confusion touched his face as Mark reverently touched his fingers to the red box before looking up at him, his expression all seriousness. “We promised not to keep this, never mind play it” Mark whispered, looking back down at the CD and starting to bite his lip once more. “But I think you should listen to it. I think...I think one listen to this could tell you...everything. Could tell you more than any of us. It’s yours and his story, in a way.” Mark looked back up at Jason. “It’s sore, Jay. I mean, it’s beautiful but...look, if you know that you know that you know...then...it’s there. And the rest is up to you.”
The first person to move was Howard. His hands clasped so tightly at the paper that Mark almost thought it was going to rip. Gary’s fingers were still resting on the piano keys and he too looked over at Howard with concern, moving to stand then seeming to think better of it and dropping his hands into his lap. Howard had fallen still now, the sound of the crinkling paper seemed to freeze him. His blue eyes were almost grey and Mark could see the dark circles under his eyes more clearly than before. It had been a long time since things had been ok.
“Howard.” Mark wasn’t sure if it was his voice or Gary’s. The tone was somehow unfamiliar. Hollow, unsure. The sound made Howard flinch and he swallowed hard to fight what might have become tears had he not had such a strong desire to avoid crying until there was something conclusive to cry over. He stood and Mark and Gary watched in silence as he swayed on his feet, his eyes still on the paper. He slowly lifted his head and looked over at Gary, who shifted along the piano stool, leaning towards Howard as if he was about to say something. But no words came out. Howard fixed his grey-blue gaze on Gary and scrunched the paper slightly in his hands.
“I can’t do that again,” he whispered. “No one can hear that again. It’s your song from now on.”
“But, Howard...”
“Never, Gaz. Promise me?” Gary nodded dumbly and Howard turned to look at Mark.
“Never,” Mark whispered. And yet, as Howard left the room, neither Gary nor Mark made any move to press ‘delete’.
“Gaz? Are you home?” Mark dropped his jacket down onto the sofa and bent to scratch Cadbury behind the ears, the excitable Labrador letting out a little yap as he greeted him. “Well Cadbury didn’t drive himself here,” Gary’s voice come from the kitchen and Mark rolled his eyes, pressing his forehead against Cadbury’s and letting the dog lick his face.
“I know, Cadbury, he’s unbearable isn’t he.” Cadbury yapped again and Mark laughed, standing up straight and heading for the kitchen. “I hope you’ve got a brew waiting for me.”
In hindsight, Mark supposed Gary’s lack of a reply should’ve alerted him. But then, what could really prepare him for the sight of Robbie Williams sitting at his and Gary’s kitchen table? And not just Robbie Williams sitting at his and Gary’s kitchen table, oh no. Robbie Williams sitting at his and Gary’s kitchen table, a mug of tea (in one of Gary’s very favourite mugs) and a biscuit tin in front of him. And Gary was sitting there too. Next to him. And no one had so much as a bruise under their eye. Cadbury yapped again, looking up at Mark expectantly. The dog was used to Mark greeting their guests with fearsome hugs and big grins – this total stillness seemed odd to him and he felt he needed to remind Mark of the house rules. But Mark still stood there, staring at Robbie and Gary in stunned silence. Robbie, for his part, had the good grace to look uncomfortable and for once there wasn’t even so much as a cheeky glint in his eye.
“How’s Jay?” Gary asked, sipping at his tea casually, as though everything were completely normal. Soldier on, Barlow, Robbie thought with mild amusement and he stifled a smile.
“Gaz...” Mark began but Gary simply got up and moved over to the kettle.
“I’m presuming that’s where you were? The hospital? Was Howard with him?” Mark blinked a few times and Robbie was really having to fight off a laugh now.
“No...but he had been earlier. Erm, Gaz...” Mark tried valiantly, but Gary was already over by the fridge, reaching into a compartment and producing a large pack of Maltesers which he hurled across the room in Mark’s direction. Instinctively Mark caught the packet, still staring at Robbie, who was now powerless against the grin which was spreading across his face.
“And are they ok? I mean, does Jay remember him now or...what are the doctors saying?” Gary continued, moving back over to the now-boiling kettle and making a grab for Mark’s favourite mug. Mark finally took his eyes of Robbie and turned his gaze onto Gary, amazement still filling his face.
“I stopped trying to second-guess Jay and Howard after the time they had that blazing row then ended up kissing on the backroom armchair in the space of ten minutes.” Mark glanced back at Robbie then. “Ten minutes! They couldn’t even remember what they’d been fighting about. Jay just said ‘Give us a break, we’re surviving off one hour’s sleep each here’ and I didn’t ask any more. Grace had been ill or something, I don’t know. But I learnt my lesson; never doubt their ability to turn the ridiculous into the sublime.”
“And then turn it back to ridiculous again,” Gary added with a chuckle, handing Mark his mug then returning to his seat at the kitchen table. Mark – Maltesers in one hand, mug of tea in the other – stood staring at the sight once more. Gary and Robbie. Just sitting, side by side at the kitchen table. “I hope Howard’s ok, though. I mean, that’s a lot for someone to try and process, isn’t it? He must want to try and help Jay remember, but where do you even begin?” Robbie sighed, leaning his elbows on the table and pulling a face as he stared down into his mug of tea. “Something that big to grapple with...it’s flight or fight,” he murmured.
“And I suppose you think fight is the answer?” Mark asked pointedly. Robbie looked up at him instantly. For a moment he looked hurt, but then the look softened and he shrugged.
“I never said the answer was fighting against each other,” he said quietly and Mark looked away.
“You could’ve fooled me,” he muttered. Robbie winced at that, shaking his head slightly.
“Mark,” Gary warned gently and Mark looked up at him in surprise.
“What?” Robbie looked between Gary and Mark, hardly believing the strange reversal of roles; Gary Barlow sticking up for him whilst Mark Owen clenched his jaw and tried to hold his tongue.
“Mark, please. I know I don’t really deserve it, I know I’ve wasted a lot of chances with you one way or another but...can I just have one more chance to prove to you that I’m not a total screw up?” Robbie asked, his beady blue eyes alert and looking deep into Mark’s own. Pleading.
“I don’t think you’re a total screw up, Rob,” Mark whispered, quickly looking away and screwing up his face, trying to keep his confused emotions at bay. Robbie smiled at him distantly.
“You didn’t. Until I screwed it up,” he pointed out. Gary shifted awkwardly in his seat.
“Sit down, Mark,” Gary said softly but Mark didn’t move from the doorway.
“Please, Markie. Yesterday was...awful. It was the most hideous thing I’ve ever known – hurting you wasn’t...and then Jay...” Robbie faltered and Mark risked a glance back at him. He thought for a moment, trying to sort through the tangled mass of thoughts crowding through his brain. “It was horrible. And it forced me to actually attempt to look at things the way they really are, not the way my mind was trying to twist them to be.” Mark sighed, looking Robbie straight in the eye. There was a long pause which stretched out, on and on, between the three men. Mark swallowed.
“And you two survived the entire drive up from Stoke? Without even one fight?” Gary chuckled and Robbie couldn’t help but smile.
“Not quite,” Gary admitted. “But I promise you, Marko, it was about which service station to stop at. And we were both laughing the entire time.”
Jason felt so suddenly and completely tired that he almost didn’t care anymore. Almost. The way he saw it, he had a decision to make. A decision that Howard – someone who all and sundry thought of as his Howard – seemed to be trying to make for him. And somewhere amidst the mess of signals his head and heart exchanged, he knew that Howard was allowed to make decisions for him. He just...knew it. They were inextricably linked, and in that sense, the question was irrelevant; Stay or go. How could either of them go anywhere without the other? If Jason only had a name and a face and the sound of the rain to work with, if all he really had was a hello and a touch, and yet he still trusted this man, then clearly there was a link there which could not be broken. Yet, the link had been broken. Jason had asked him to stay. He hadn’t. Stay or go. It sounded simple. But it was tied up in the very foundations of Jason’s personal neuroses. Stay. Or go. This is Manchester. We dance in the rain in Manchester. Staying meant something to Jason. It had been instinctive, asking Howard to stay, it just came to him, just slipped out before he realised his choice of word. And yet it shouldn’t have been that way. Because he had trained himself to not raise his hopes that high. His dad hadn’t stayed, even Simon hadn’t stayed. And after that what was the point of asking? It had been a conscious decision during his late teens; don’t expect. But he had expected of Howard.
Jason glanced down at the disc in his hands. He’d spent half his life making sure he didn’t open himself up to that kind of disappointment ever again...and yet he knew, he just knew, that if he listened to whatever was on this disc, he would be making the choice to change that. A choice to be the person that Howard had made him, whether he remembered the why or whether he just understood that they had to fight to create new whys together. Stay. Or go. Jason reached across to where his CD player was sitting and slipped the disc inside. One last glance at Gary’s handwritten title before he pressed play. ‘IWFL – Howard – Original Rec.’
Chapter Thirteen: Thursday, Morning Shifting Into Afternoon
Howard ran his fingers along the paper, his eyes still staring dead ahead. He could feel the warmth of the Manchester sun against his skin and somewhere in the city he supposed Jason could too. And wouldn’t that be nice, he thought. He swallowed something – something which wasn’t tears but was far from a smile – and let out a long breath. He remembered, he still remembered everything. He knew what had been and he would always know. He rubbed his thumb against the cool metal in his left hand and for a moment he thought about throwing it in the river. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t bring himself to make a gesture that hurtful; something else had been thought lost to the river once and, though things hadn’t been as they had seemed, the memory still stung. Another memory he was doomed to knowing forever he supposed.
He slid it into the envelope and sealed it in. He surprised himself by managing not to cry.
It was the middle of summer and Manchester was golden. The three of them were walking by the river and Jason was driving Howard mad and they were laughing and everything was just how summer was supposed to be. He couldn’t be sure if they were arguing or teasing, or perhaps they had just been flirting, but as Grace bobbed up and down between the two of them, Howard could at least be sure that they were all content. All three of them. Like this was how it had been for years, like this was life and home and all those other things that people were supposed to look for and dream of. Although Howard had never craved that. He had never been one to wonder what stability looked like, his mind had a tendency to wander and he got so restless and fidgety when he’d been stuck in one place in previous summers. But in that moment all he wanted was to stay still – stay there by the river – and watch the sunset reflect off the glass of the Salford windows and listen to Jason telling Grace outrageous stories and feel his blue eyes winking at him over the top of her head.
And then the rain came.
Grace had squealed and Jason, whose upper-body strength was impressive considering his slight frame, had managed to scoop her up in an instant. Perhaps the interruption should’ve annoyed them, but as Howard remembered it, that had all been laughing as Manchester did its worst. They ran all the way back to the apartment, still joking and grinning and laughing and laughing and laughing. At some point Howard had made a grab for Jason’s hand, a grab that Jason had accepted, allowing Howard to all but pull him along. And the whole time the sun was still shining. Grace had tried to find a rainbow, but Jason ran too fast for her to see much of anything at all, only the golden glint of the sunlight off the windows and her dad’s broad grin up ahead as he pulled some more on Jason’s hand. When they got home she remembered him kissing their wet faces – he kissed her on the forehead and Jason on the lips and Jason had winked at him over the top of her head before setting her down and going off in search of towels.
It was when he was watching Jason and Grace argue over techniques for towel-drying hair that it occurred to him he never wanted that day to be forgotten. Sure, forget what day of the week it was, forget which one of them was wearing the red t-shirt or whose sunglasses got dropped in the chaos. But never forget the way it felt or the way the sunlight gleamed of the glass of every window in the street. Never forget that it was a golden afternoon in Manchester or that they had laughed.
And then the next day he found the key in his pocket. He couldn’t for the life of him work out when Jason had slipped it in there, but he found that didn’t matter. Because Jason knew. So he smiled and rubbed his thumb over the metal and thought of golden light on windows and running in the rain.
When Robbie opened his eyes, the first thing that came into focus was Mark, eyebrow arched, arms folded across his chest. Something in the pit of his stomach turned over, making him feel more than a little nauseous. What he really wanted to do was close his eyes again, pretend he was still asleep. Or, even better, he could go back to last night and go home to his own bed, like a sensible, proper grown-up. But he tried to swallow the thought; Gary had been right, they all needed to sort this. Robbie pushed himself up slightly on the sofa, rubbing at the crick in his neck and stifling a yawn. He was desperate not to look too at home, but at the same time he didn’t want to look too awake, as, at least if it seemed as though he were still half-asleep then he wouldn’t have to try and talk. He wondered where Gary was – and then he wondered how on earth the space of a few days had turned Gary Barlow into his greatest ally. Mark let out a long sigh and Robbie risked a glance at him.
“We all overslept,” Mark said after a moment, still regarding Robbie carefully. “Come on, I’ll make you a brew.” And with that, he turned and headed for the kitchen. Slowly Robbie sat up, watching Mark walk out with a mixture of suspicion and hope. He risked a sidelong look at Cadbury, who was lying in his bed in the corner of the room, but the dog simply rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes, knowing better than to get involved in their dysfunction.
“Cheers, Cadbury, you’re a real help,” Robbie sighed with a roll of his eyes before pushing himself up from the sofa and moving towards the kitchen.
Mark was flitting about, humming along to the radio as he produced mugs and spoons from various kitchen units, his back to Robbie the whole time. And Robbie, for his part, hovered in the doorway, watching him with a faint smile on his lips, hardly daring to move and spoil the scene.
“Pull up a seat. You’ve made yourself at home already, I don’t see why you should stop now.” There was a huffy edge to Mark’s voice that Robbie couldn’t help but chuckle at. He might look like the world’s most happy-go-lucky man, but Rob knew better than anyone that Mark Owen would not be pushed around. Just because he was no longer locked in his bedroom refusing to speak to either Gary or Robbie, as he had been last night, did not mean that he was just going to accept the way they had handled things. The way he clattered the teaspoons only confirmed Robbie’s suspicions and he shook his head, rueful but fond.
“You off somewhere special?”Robbie asked after a minute, looking Mark’s outfit up and down, and finally Mark turned, a frown on his features.
“No...I have a shift at the caff...and Gaz is going to open up the shop for a few hours. Why?” Robbie grinned cheekily and shook his head.
“Nothing. Just...don’t ever change, Markie,” he replied. Mark narrowed his eyes at him then.
“We’re not on joking terms right now, you do know that don’t you?” Mark reminded him and Robbie shrugged, looking up at him with a small smile, his blue eyes bright and honest.
“Who said I was joking?” Mark visibly softened at that, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He picked up the two mugs of tea and moved over to the kitchen table.
“Come on, sit down,” he said, the suggestion more gentle and genuine this time. Robbie finally pushed himself off the doorframe and came to sit next to Mark, taking the offered tea and watching as Mark set about shovelling sugar into his own.
“So are you actually ready to talk now, or are you going to storm off and hide in your room again like last night?” he tried and Mark shot him a warning look.
“Look, you can’t just show up at my home, Rob. After everything you’ve done you can’t expect to just show up like that and it all be fine in seconds.” Robbie nodded in acknowledgement and glanced away, but out of the corner of his eye he could still see Mark’s thoughtful expression, could see the way he was biting at his lip and rubbing a hand over his face. “Gaz should’ve at least warned me.”
“We knew if we told you, you’d say no. What with Jay and everything...we knew you’d have a ready-made excuse to put everything else aside,” Robbie sighed, looking nervously in Mark’s direction and hoping he understood, but Mark was frowning now, suddenly cross again.
“But Rob, it’s not an excuse, you know? Jay could’ve...he could’ve died. I mean, a few centimetres to the left and who knows, a couple more minutes in the ambulance...and he never asked for that. Jay doesn’t ask for his problems, he doesn’t deliberately try and self-destruct and so he doesn’t deserve the destruction. He deserves friends. And for everything to be ok.”
“What, and I don’t?” Robbie suddenly felt defensive, though he couldn’t help the voice in the back of his head warning him that what Mark was saying wasn’t exactly far from the truth.
“Life’s a bitch to Jay, Rob. Just as much of a bitch to him as it’s ever been to you. He’s only human, he doesn’t always react in the best way, you know? But he still at least tries to be good to people.”
“And how is he at accepting help when he needs it?” Robbie asked and Mark faltered. Because he’d said it himself; Jay is only human, they all are only human. And if there’s one thing humans are bad at, it’s asking for help when they need it.
“He knows who he can trust at least,” he said at last and Robbie nodded thoughtfully.
“But trusting is easier said than done,” he replied. For a moment the two of them sat in silence, both staring into their mugs as if somehow all the answers to their questions and conflicts could be found inside. But there weren’t answers there – perhaps there weren’t any answers, as such, to be found anywhere at all. They had too much shared history to ever not be bound together, but that same history was what stopped them from feeling as though they could risk being so closely bound again. Robbie swallowed and flicked a glance at Mark, who felt the look and looked up to meet the stare.
“There ought to be some people you just trust though, Rob. There ought to be some people that you just know...you just know they would never turn on you.”
“I know there should. But it doesn’t...it doesn’t always work that way, does it? I mean...even Jay would tell you that wouldn’t he?” Robbie looked down at his hands. “Look I...I’m sorry that I doubted you, Mark. And I’m sorry I doubted Gaz. I just...all I really have left to love these days is my music. And I can’t even trust that to stay.”
“Then how is anything ever going to be ok between you and us, Rob?”
“Because...it has to be. Because...because Jay could’ve died and that fact alone makes everything else seem stupid. I don’t want to fight about who sings which line in a song when Howard and Jay are having to fight to even stay together. I don’t want to fight over whether or not I’m in the band because I don’t care as long as I’m still in your lives, still your friend.” Robbie closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face and taking a steadying breath. He could hear his pulse echoing in his head, and he could feel Mark’s eyes on him; quiet, unwavering. “I guess I got used to lower expectations than that though, you know? I expected you to be leaving, and I’d rather it was on my terms than yours. It’s just...I know it sounds daft, Mark, but I’ve grown up like that. I mean, when you say you’re from Stoke, people will just turn around and call you scum to your face, you know? Even people who probably have some hand-painted Wedgewood in their attic that they’re planning to sell for a bomb, the minute you let slip what city you’re from, they formulate an opinion without knowing you...or your city for that matter – what I’m trying to say is...I got used to it not mattering how much good you did, to it all being about the bad. I got used to not needing to please anyone.”
“So...your music is your Trentham Gardens,” Mark said softly, a sad, tiny smile touching the corner of his lips. Robbie smiled too, nodding slowly and letting slip a small chuckle.
“Yeah. And my Britannia Stadium, my canal-path, my pottery industry...” he stopped and sighed. “But then everyone just remembers the incinerator don’t they.”
“Your temper. They way you always change your mind.”
“My ego.”
“Your tendency to drink before you think.” Robbie nodded and the two men fell once more into silence. For a moment all that history was so close to the present that they could almost hear it, past arguments echoing in both their minds. And Robbie knew, he just knew, that he could never make Mark forget. And Mark shouldn’t forget, because if he did then he might lose that spark, that spirit he’d developed, and that would be wrong. Because Mark needed that edge – as lovely as he was all bubblegum and candyfloss, he wasn’t a proper person, wasn’t fully formed without those extra spikes round the edges. And Robbie realised that perhaps the same was true of him too. He needed the grit and the grime and the grazes on his knees – they taught him things, like how to appreciate that fact he even had friends at all. And the fact they wanted to help him.
“I am sorry, Mark. For everything. And I just...I don’t know what else I can say.” Robbie slowly looked up and was surprised when he found himself gazing into Mark Owen’s round, kind face. Those eyes twinkling, those lips somehow never far from a smile. Mark reached out his hand across the table and placed it on top of Robbie’s own.
“Peace in our time?” The sound of Gary’s voice jolted both Mark and Robbie and they jumped slightly, turning to look over to the doorway, where Gary stood, towelling his hair dry, a sunny smile on his face. Robbie grinned back at him, giving his best attempt at a casual shrug, though his whole body still ached from the impact of Mark’s hand against his skin. Gary waggled his eyebrows then, his gaze coming to rest on Mark. “Is that a yes?” Mark quickly drew himself up in his seat, waving a warning finger in the older man’s direction.
“Er, not so fast, Gary Barlow, I’ve not even started with you yet!”
Howard took the envelop from his pocket and bit hard on his lip as he set it down. The pain stung the backs of his eyes but he still didn’t cry. Not that he didn’t want to, he wanted to more than anything. But he was afraid the disturbance of a single tear might alter the air too much. And he didn’t want that, didn’t want to wake Jason. Because it was nice to see him asleep. Howard had always been aware that Jason had a different beauty when he slept, different to the vibrant one he had when he was awake. Unguarded beauty. Unafraid. To know Jason you had to know both faces, had to know all those characters he could be when awake, but also the one he was when he was asleep. And, Howard realised, he did. He knew them all, loved them all. But what did Jason really know of him? To forget someone you were supposed to love was to forget a thousand different things – you couldn’t love in one dimension, two wasn’t even enough. There was so much that had to be lost...and if it was lost, if that was possible, then had you really ever known it at all?
He wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel their skin touch, but it occurred to him that it would just be another memory. No use to him, and to Jason, not even a memory at all.
When he turned to leave, he was surprised to see Tony Orange, waiting in the doorway to the room, his blue eyes unnervingly similar to Jason’s as they glittered quietly back at Howard.
“Tony...” Howard kept his voice to a whisper. Partly because he was afraid of waking Jason, but mostly because those strangely familiar eyes had him half convinced that this man could read him just as easily as his son; if he spoke too loudly, Tony would know what he was doing here, and he would try to change his mind. Would Jason try to change his mind if he were awake though?
“You’d think I’d have learnt by now, wouldn’t you?” Tony Orange murmured, his eyes no longer on Howard but on Jason. Howard frowned slightly, glancing over his shoulder to where Jason slept before turning back to look at Tony. A tired face. A sad face. The older man clearly hadn’t slept these past two nights. “I’m sorry, Howard. For the things I said.” Tony sighed heavily and looked back at Howard with a rueful smile. “You ever wondered where my boys all got their pig-headedness from?” Howard couldn’t help but smile back.
“I don’t know, Tony...Jenny can give as good as she gets too,” he whispered. Tony inclined his head slightly as if to agree, his lips twisting up for another brief moment.
“But she has a few more brain cells than I do. And so does our Jay.” Howard didn’t know what to say to that – because perhaps there was some truth in it, and perhaps, Howard thought, he himself had very little room to talk. After all, was he behaving in the smartest fashion? But he didn’t want to try and pick apart his own decisions now, not at this point. At this point he couldn’t change his mind. He was scared to do that, scared in case he caused them any more rain. “Look I...me and Jay we...” Tony’s voice interrupted Howard’s thoughts and he looked over into the older man’s face, once more staring into eyes he felt he already knew well. Only...they were oh-so-slightly different. “Me and Jay...me and him we...” Tony was grasping for words he didn’t even need to say. Howard already understood and he nodded his head slowly, awkwardly.
“I know, Tony,” he said. And Howard did know. He knew all about the difficulties Jason and his father had had, he knew all about the wrongs, on both sides, and all about the slow-rebuild. But the way Tony looked at him when he said it...Howard supposed it hadn’t occurred to him that Jason had explained it all. But even Tony himself didn’t know half of what Howard knew. And he could tell from the way Howard said those words. I know. How many times had he said those words to Jason too?
“I’ve only ever really known him at his best, haven’t I, I suppose.” Howard frowned slightly but Tony was already looking beyond him again, his eyes back on Jason. “Before I left...and after you arrived. Those are the times he’s been the most open to me. Maybe that was the problem...maybe I...I don’t know what I was thinking. I lost so much time with him, even more than the others, Howard. And it was time you didn’t even need in order to know him better. I was jealous I suppose.” Tony closed his eyes. “I was glad when I saw you here this morning...maybe it was easier to just keep missing you but...but it wasn’t right. I wanted to say sorry to you, Howard. And I am sorry, you know? For the things I said, the way I treated you. For everything.” Tony opened his eyes and looked up at Howard then, a hopeful gaze that Howard could only meet with a shake of his head. He couldn’t hear this now – by tomorrow Tony Orange would no doubt be wanted to take it all back, he supposed.
“There’s no need, Tony. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
Howard was aware of Tony watching him leave. He could feel those blue eyes – and he thought, briefly, that that must be the most frustrating of the Orange Family traits. The stubbornness, the cheekiness, they could be lived with. But the way they always knew. It unnerved him but he loved it. And that was the reason he couldn’t turn back. Because Tony would know. And there was no way he would let it lie then. Another Orange Family trait, Howard supposed.
Gary was just about to close up the shop when the call came, was locking up the till for the day and heading for the door. Mark had just appeared through the shop door, his waiter’s apron still tied around his waist, and Robbie was sorting through a box of old records, deciding which ones were – as he put it – too good for the people of Manchester. Gary’s mobile rang at, at first, Mark and Rob didn’t even look up. Mark looked over Robbie’s shoulder as he pointed out a record to him and Gary picked up his mobile without thinking to look who was calling him.
“Oh, hi Justin.” Mark and Robbie’s heads moved in unison at that, their wide gazes travelling up from the record to Gary, suddenly interested. The feeling of hope seemed to well up from the floorboards of the old shop itself. That was until they saw Gary’s expression change. Those blue eyes of his turned into the colour of a winter sea, his eyebrows knitting together as he listened. “No. But we’ll er...we’ll keep a lookout. And I’ll try and track Howard down for you too.”
When he finally hung up the phone, Robbie scrambled to his feet and he and Mark hurried across the room. Gary seemed to be moving in slow motion as he placed his mobile down on the shop counter, taking in a deep breath and running a hand across his face.
“Gaz, what is it? What’s wrong?” Mark’s voice sounded small even to him.
“Is Jay ok? Why do they need to contact Howard?” Robbie asked at the same time, his big eyes a terrified shade of blue. Gary opened his eyes, dropping his hands to his sides and looking up at the ceiling, not able to meet Mark or Robbie’s eyes.
“Jay’s gone missing from the hospital. And no one can get a hold of Howard to break the news.”
Chapter Fourteen: Thursday, A Summer Evening, The Sky Just Starting To Change Shade
It was one of those English summer evenings, where the air was still and you could hear the birds cooing to one another even in the city. The sky was cornflower blue, the sun low, and if you squinted then you could just make out the moon already starting to peak out into the cooling air. Somewhere in the distance the dull roar of traffic scratched slightly at the peace, but there wasn’t even a flicker of a breeze. And so Howard stood still, hardly let out a breath.
He knew he was there – don’t ask him how he knew. The problem was he was so used to feeling him everywhere that for a moment he put it down to an echo of a memory. That was until he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. And, as far as he knew, memories didn’t shuffle on the pavement.
“I thought I’d find you here.” So gentle. So soft. And yet Howard almost jumped. He turned, half expecting to see nothing there but his own shadow – after all, why would he be here? How would he be here? But he was and Howard was sure of it.
“Jay...” He didn’t know why his voice sounded so uncertain when, inside, he knew. That tall figure with the bright blue eyes – more than an outline, more than a ghost – was the figure that had been following him for years now. He knew him. Intimately. And he was always there. But how? Howard didn’t know. But he always was. The word ‘stay’ might’ve come to his mind if his mind hadn’t been struggling under a weight of a hundred-odd tangled emotions, but instead all he could think was that Jason was here and that it made no sense...yet he liked it. Jason was squinting against what was left of the sunlight and, though his lips didn’t curve in the slightest, there was a smile in his face when he looked at Howard that they both knew only Howard could see. “How did you...how come you’re...” Howard didn’t know what he was really asking, didn’t know why he wasn’t just moving towards him, taking his hand, bringing their skin close once more. And, at the same time, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t moving away from him, preserving the distance and making it greater, vaster. That would have been better self-preservation than just standing there. But all he knew was that Jason’s eyes were looking right into his own and he didn’t dare break that moment. It might be the last time he looked into those eyes. After today...he swallowed. “How?” he asked more softly and Jason’s smile briefly reached his lips as he took a single step closer to Howard. He looked down, almost shy but, more than that, looking thoughtful.
“Do you remember that summer, when I convinced you to stay here with me?” Stay. “You whined for weeks at the simple suggestion. I think you spent the whole of winter moaning. You tried to persuade me to come with you on some winding trip through Scandinavia...”
“I wanted us to work our way round the Baltic, head through Denmark down to Germany,” Howard murmured and Jason looked up at him then, their eyes meeting briefly as they shared a smile.
“You wanted to not be in the same hotel room twice,” Jason corrected – a teasing reprimand that made Howard’s heart contract into the smallest of balls. He could feel his whole chest squeeze tight and he had to look away, swallowing hard. “You hated summer,” Jason added quietly, taking another step closer. Howard closed his eyes and squeezed them shut. “I think you’re one of the only people I’ve ever known who thought summer went on too long and winter was too short.”
“I couldn’t persuade you,” Howard whispered, risking a look in Jason’s direction. And Jason actually laughed, a soft chuckle that made Howard want to hold him. He’d always liked the way Jason’s laughs vibrated through his whole body, liked the feel of them when Jason was pressed against his chest. He had missed that feeling and he immediately craved one last one...but would he ever be able to leave after that? Probably not. He’d just keep thinking to himself ‘one last one, one last one...’, always waiting, hesitating. Jason wrapped his arms around himself, shivering slightly in the cooling summer air, and Howard had to fight himself not to cross the space between them to hold him, to wrap his jacket around him and press him against his chest.
“I wanted to try and change your mind,” Jason sighed, his voice so gentle, so fond.
“You wanted to be a stubborn bastard,” Howard shot back quickly, almost raising a grin; he couldn’t resist the banter. But when Jason laughed again Howard regretted his own weakness. Because that laugh unleashed the ache in his belly, the one he’d been desperately trying to tame, the one that had stopped him from driving off hours ago. The bags were in the car, why wasn’t he? Because of that ache. And that ache was because of that man. He looked up at Jason and for a second he hated him, because he loved him so immensely. So much more immensely than was good for either of them.
“Well, I couldn’t let the Orange side down, I had to give you a bit of the bossy-boots treatment,” Jason was smiling more broadly now and Howard had to look away for fear of kissing him. “Anyway, the point is, I finally got you to stay. That summer, I got you to stay.” Stay. Stay. “And it was golden. Only rained a little bit. Nothing for Manchester. You actually didn’t want it to end.” Jason was looking at him, he could feel it, but Howard couldn’t look back, couldn’t risk getting caught in that same memory. Golden – it had been golden, hadn’t it? “Then you discovered this spot by the river, where it’s hardly ever windy and you can catch some of that same gold light at sunset, no matter what the time of year.” Jason took another step closer. “Nothing is ever lost here.” Howard felt a tear slide down his cheek. The Orange family who always knew. Howard sniffed and tried to keep Jason from seeing his face – but Jason would know he was crying, he always did. Jason Orange who always knew Howard Donald. Jason Orange who, even after everything, always knew . Then Howard felt his breath catch and he looked up, turning and staring dazedly into Jason’s face as realisation struck.
“But how did you...” Jason’s blue eyes glittered, specks of light like raindrops on a window-glass at night. “You remember.”Jason didn’t reply immediately, looking down a moment and drawing in a breath before reaching into his pocket for something. When he took his hand out from his pocket, Howard’s lips parted a little in surprise. That glint of metal. It had been in his own hands just a few hours before. Jason’s eyes met his own, still glinting, but more sadly now.
“I remembered. And you forgot.”
It was written in the piano chords. Their history. Not that it came back that easily. Fragments, that’s how it happened. Little pieces of knowledge that he had no real basis for or understanding of, but that he just knew. In Howard’s singing he found the memory of running his thumb beneath the older man’s eyes and finding tears there, and he remembered that it was a cool afternoon and that they had been alone. And for all that there were profound things to be gained from the song’s lyrics, all they gave to Jason was the unshakeable conviction that Howard had once wrestled him for the television remote and ended up breaking the thing entirely. He couldn’t remember the wedding vows, or even the proposal that led to them, but he remembered sitting on the grass in a crisp white shirt, talking to a young girl who swore blind she would never have let her dad marry anyone else as she made promises about never forgetting she adored him, even when she grew up and it became silly to adore anyone the way she adored him then. She had made him link their little fingers together and he’d winked at her and told her he’d hold her to that when she was forty.
Jason lay back in his bed and closed his eyes, letting the music seep further down into his skin. And slowly he began to remember more. Being crept up on at the shop and nearly destroying an entire box of records by dropping them down the stairs. An argument over coffee stains on the sofa. Holding hands at a zoo. And dancing. Lots and lots of dancing – in clubs, in their living room, at night, in the morning, in the shop and in the middle of a pub one particularly raucous Christmas, Mark and Gary even joining in. It was under the weight of these memories that Jason fell asleep.
He woke at 1am, more confused than ever, and untangled himself from his headphones before he fell asleep once more. By 4am he remembered nothing of where he was or why, but he did remember Howard and he knew he missed him and the ache of that fact alone was enough for him not to take in the hospital surroundings when he opened his eyes. Instead he had turned over and fallen asleep once more. By the time he woke up again his head hurt and the sun was shining and he became more aware that he was definitely in a hospital – a fact that suddenly made him feel nauseous, and, in self-defence, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep some more. After a while his determination worked, but he dreamt about an argument and breaking glass. And it felt real enough that his face stung. By the next time he woke up, he just about managed to piece the rest of it together. And it hurt him.
A bad time, perhaps, to find Howard’s envelope. Or maybe there was no time better – he was still in a dazed enough state to not feel the real impact of what he knew the envelope stood for. He was running on some back-up supply, some reserve of energy that didn’t allow him much of a moment to feel angry, or even feel hurt. But his breath still caught when he saw that unmistakable scrawl on the front; ‘Sorry. Howard x’. Yet, Jason thought, his breath had only caught because, even after everything, Howard still trusted him to understand. Still expected him to know. Two words. Two, brief words. No ‘it’s over’ and no ‘goodbye’, perhaps because Howard knew that those words, more than any others, would cut Jason open and destroy him beyond repair. No. All Howard gave Jason was two words and a key. The key to the apartment. And Jason understood. Even half-asleep and filled to the brim with painkillers, Jason understood. He closed his eyes a moment, trying to focus them, trying to focus himself. He clasped the key tight in his hand, wishing, just for a moment and not with any real seriousness, that that stupid, obstinate man wasn’t his husband. And for a brief second he found himself slipping into Howard’s logic, thinking back over everything they’d been through, battling the weight of it. A hard thing to do when simultaneously battling the weight of uncertainty that came when he thought about their future. And he understood, he did, because for a moment he wanted to lay back down, key clasped in his hand, and try to forget all over again. But then he thought back over the things which had come back to him as he’d listened to Mark’s CD. Fighting over the remote, sitting on the back step at his dad’s house, clasping Howard’s hand, sharing promises with Grace and dancing and dancing and dancing some more, together and apart, because they could dance because they knew each other. And he remembered shouting down his entire family too. Because, damn it, Howard Donald was worth fighting for.
Jason sucked in a breath. He couldn’t let it lie, however good Howard’s intentions. He knew it was wrong, he knew that the two of them would forever be defined, to some extent, by their relationship with each other. And he knew that relationship was better than this, it was better than ending. Howard was a splinter wedged too deep within him to be removed. And he had to find him – hospital be damned.
But it was all very well knowing he had to find him – it was knowing how to find him he was struggling with. How long ago had that envelope even been put there? And how quickly was Howard capable of packing up his life and getting out of the country? There had been a time when Howard could pack up his life in the space of a half-hour. But Jason knew that, thanks to him, Howard was out of practice at that. And he hoped he’d maybe rendered him incapable of really leaving at all. Rubbing a hand over his face, Jason stretched his mind as far back as he could, all those fragments of memories which had only just assembled themselves to form the whole picture were now being picked apart once more as he tried to find something, anything, he could work with.
And that’s when he thought of that summer. He clasped the key in his hand and was grateful for remembering. The summer he gave Howard that key – that was where Howard would be.
Under a sky the colour of dust, the two men stood so still that any passersby could have been forgiven for mistaking them for shadows. And maybe they were, in a way. Shadows of what they had been in that place – once together and laughing and golden, now they stood still and quiet and apart. Howard was suddenly hyper-aware of his own heart, of the shape of it within his chest, of the way it shivered when Jason looked at him that way. His eyes still shone, still glimmered the way they always did when they looked at him. But there was an anger beneath it that he couldn’t mask from a man who knew him as well as Howard did.
“Jay, please don’t...”
“Jay, please don’t what?” Howard almost flinched and he felt his heart shivering again. The back of his throat felt cold and, even as Jason’s face softened slightly, he hardly dared breathe. “I’m not programmed to ‘don’t’, Howard. I’m programmed to kick and to shout until you listen to me. I’m programmed to stand in your way,” Jason said, softly but with a gaze of steel.
“Even if you don’t remember me?” Howard ventured and Jason raised an eyebrow, as though accepting the challenge. I’ll see your hurt and raise you a betrayal – Howard knew every flicker of that face and he wished he didn’t. “I mean, are you here because of me or are you here because you remembered?”
“Howard Donald, there have been days when I’ve only breathed in because of you.”
“But that’s not what I asked you, Jay.”
“You shouldn’t have to ask what you asked, How. After all, you were the one who only left two words of explanation for me. And yet you still knew that I would know.”
“Because you always know,” Howard snapped, trying not to cry. Jason shook his head.
“Then why don’t you know, Howard?” he asked, the words barely more than a breath. He spoke so quietly, and strangely that scared Howard more than if he’d yelled. He could cope with a fight, he could storm out of a fight in righteous anger. But Jason gave him nothing to be righteous about – he was simply standing in front of Howard with his honesty. Raw and wounded, out there for all to see. “Why don’t you know that I’m here because of you, How?” Howard closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to his face, willing everything away, wishing he’d just left whilst it was still easy to. But then, when had it really been easy? He wouldn’t still be here if there had ever been a point where this was easy, where leaving was easy.
“You forgot me.” He had to keep saying it, had to keep reminding Jason that he was the one who had been betrayed, he was the one who had cause to be hurt. Jason’s blue eyes glistered. Tears were there but there was more there too – an affection, a sympathy? Howard didn’t need to look up to feel it – Jason could always pierce him with a look from forty yards or more.
“I forgot your name, not who you are.”
“You forgot everything, Jay. Everything. Like it’s something that can just be lost – like a fucking phone number or a letter or pen.” Howard looked up at Jason with wide, imploring eyes, desperate for him to understand that he couldn’t cope with that, desperate for him to see just how ridiculous it made their entire relationship look. “How could it mean that little?” he asked. But the tears remained in Jason’s eyes and he shook his head and looked to the sky and Howard’s heart shook in his chest, a peculiar cocktail of fear and anger settling on it and reacting painfully with the love which still resided there.
“You held my face in your hand and I let you. I didn’t question you. I didn’t question anything. You held my face in your hand and you held everything I was in your hands and you chose to leave.”
“I had to leave. Don’t you think it would be reckless? To dive into a relationship again, to being us again? We have done nothing but fight and struggle since we met each other. And for what? When do we actually get to reap the benefits, Jay? I have fought so hard and I’ve been fighting for years now. And it turns out I fought for something which was actually so insignificant it could be forgotten in a day.” Howard felt a tear slide down his cheek. “And you expect me to let it happen again?” He shook his head. “Reckless.” He looked down, unable to hold Jason’s stare as he admitted the hardest truth. “I’m not that strong, Jay. I’m not that strong and I never will be.”
The wordless space which fell around them stung their skin – all salt and cold air – and somewhere in the city the roar of the traffic got louder, making the space between their bodies feel suddenly cavernous. “It’s just been one ordeal after another, and I can’t do it anymore. I’m not that strong.” Howard was sure if he repeated it then it would become enough to justify leaving and Jason would agree and this would all be over. He just wanted to stop hurting, wanted his heart to stop shuddering in his ribcage. “I can’t stand the not knowing anymore.” There was another pause and Howard found just enough courage to look up into Jason’s face. The cuts which littered it looked harsher in the fading summer light, a darkness that also lingered in his eyes.
“Life is about ambiguity, Howard. Not every poem has to rhyme to be beautiful. We don’t get to pick that stuff, you don’t get to chose the happy ending every time. But you don’t see a golden summer coming any more than you see a year of rain ahead.” Jason looked at Howard intently, coming one more step closer. “I didn’t see you coming.” Howard couldn’t help but smile. A brief, lopsided smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Love is brave. And a bit wild. And maybe stupid, I learnt that from you too. And I never saw you coming, How. You bowled into me and that made the ambiguity suddenly...exciting. We’re neither of us saints, How. We’ve both screwed things up and we’ve dragged each other to the brink so many times. But we’re still standing here, on the edge of forever.”
“And you don’t think that’s reckless of us? Standing on a cliff-face at the start of God-only-knows what with nothing but love on our side?”
“No. I think that’s the only way to cope with life. You have to stay. You have to stand your ground.”
“But you forgot, Jay.”
“No. I asked you to stay.”
“Jay...”
“You know what that means, How.”
“Jay, please don’t...”
“What happened to the man who swore he’d wait for life?” Howard’s head snapped up.
“And what happened to the man who promised me I was on his mind for life?” Jason laughed, a sad laugh that had a throat of tears behind it, and shook his head.
“At what point was I not thinking of you, How? Tell me, because I want to know, I want to go back to that moment, coz maybe in that moment I could actually breathe.”
The silence lasted longer this time. Neither one of them was capable of backing down, not now. They were both convinced that they were right and neither one of them had the inclination to lose this battle – both of them had their issues, Howard had his insecurities and Jason had his past, and neither one of them had had enough sleep to cope with the emotions stirred up inside them in any rational way. Jason had used up whatever strength he had left and for a moment he wavered on his feet. Howard noticed and moved to steady him before he realised what he was doing. Both men froze and gazed into each other’s faces. At some point it had started to rain and, for the first time, Howard noticed that the dampness on his cheeks wasn’t just down to tears.
“What is it with us and the rain?” he whispered with a sad smile that Jason returned.
“You always forget, though, our first kiss was in the rain,” he replied in a murmur. Howard nodded and looked down. “You know, it doesn’t all have to be absence and broken glass.”
“Too much has happened, Jay.”
“Funny, my argument is exactly the same.” Howard looked back into his face and he couldn’t help but think of that look as the last – the final look to try and remember that face, to try and turn that face into a memory, to try and prevent that face becoming a ghost that followed him. But that face was a shadow of what it could be. Jason’s eyes, tired and tearful, were not the shade of blue they had been the day they had first met. Howard would rather remember them that way than this.
“They didn’t just let you out, did they.” Not a question. Jason simply shrugged.
“I imagine Justin is sending out a search party as we speak.”
“I should tell them where you are.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Jason whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek and forming a pathway between the raindrops and cuts that Howard traced with his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jay,” he murmured, cupping Jason’s cheek in his hand. He rubbed the tear-track with his thumb and, as Jason’s eyes fluttered closed, Howard pressed a single kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he repeated and he slowly dropped his hand, stepping back and swallowing a new wave of tears which had been edging up his throat. He felt the moment Jason’s eyes opened again, but he didn’t look, choosing instead to keep walking away, to try and make the distance as great as possible before Jason, inevitably, got the last word.
“So I guess this isn’t the place where nothing was lost.” Howard paused, swallowed, but didn’t look back. He was a full three paces away from Jason by now, but that voice, soft as it was, was resolute and Howard couldn’t ignore it, not even in the rain. “I guess it’s the place where everything was lost.” Howard squeezed his eyes shut. “Everything I had to give was in asking you to stay.” There was a pause in which both men listened to the sound of the rain on the pavement. “So I guess I lost, then. Yet again.”
Chapter Fifteen: Friday, A Little Over Twenty-Four Hours Later
The first thing he noticed was the abandoned book on the armchair. The sight felt more familiar than it ought to. But he had seen it so many times when he rolled in late from a gig. His life had been pulled in, contained in this space for so long. This place was still home, he could still read it and the book on the armchair was like a plot-point on a map.
He had found the key to the apartment in his pocket that morning, the metal grazing his fingertips and taking him by surprise. He’d pulled it out and stared at it for an indeterminate amount of time. How long had he been sitting staring before the words had slipped out? Stubborn bastard. It wasn’t an angry admission. It was soft, whispered. Affectionate. Jason Orange, that stubborn bastard. That stubborn, silly, loyal bastard. Still his stubborn, silly, loyal bastard.
Howard found Jason sleeping. (Home, it was home.) The sight stirred up wonder inside him always. The fact that this still, silent creature could be unfurled from inside his Jason – his ever-moving Jason – fascinated him endlessly. For a moment he could just watch him and forget that the last time he had seen him he had been crying. Crying because of him – that was the part he most wanted to forget. He wanted to forget that the pair of them were stubborn and silly and reckless with their lives. Even more reckless with their hearts. And he almost could forget for that moment, for that brief moment as he stood in the doorway watching Jason sleep. Because in that moment, Jason was still. Breathing in and out in his Jason rhythm, his heart beating steady in between the patters of the raindrops. Howard rested his head on the doorframe and felt that ache inside him become a thrum that he could only labelled as ‘being alive’. He studied Jason with sad blue eyes and he wanted to go over to him, but feared disturbing that stillness. Because look at him, look at that man who so many people knew as busy and flittering, but really only Howard knew as this serene man, hush-asleep on top of the sheets. (Home, it was home.) On his own side of the bed too, as though that still mattered to him, even after everything that had happened. It was like an invitation that Howard had to fight not to accept. Jason had Howard’s pillow pulled against him, though – the man that had taught him how to hope and now he hoped for no one but him. Howard almost smiled, even as his heart began to shake in his chest again. Surely he should go, leave now. Surely he shouldn’t have come here at all. There was still a voice inside him saying he should go. Reckless, the pair of us. He could leave now and Jason might never know he’d even been here. He could, couldn’t he? Only...he knew he couldn’t. Not really. (Home, it was home.) He belonged here, he always had. There was still a place carved out for him here – it was his face in the picture-frames, his daughter’s school bag in the corridor. It was the shape of his body which was missing from the bed. Besides...Jason would know he’d been here. This was the man who could hear the words Howard didn’t say. This was the man who, even as Howard was vowing to walk away forever, had still had the presence of mind to slip the key to the apartment back into his pocket. This was the man who hardly ever said ‘stay’, but when he did, he said it to Howard. Stay. Everything he did was an expression of that word. Howard closed his eyes in regret as he remembered himself walking away. How had he left him in the rain? All he’d had to do was stay. (Life, this was life.)
He could have just walked over to him. Sat down on the bed like it was any other rainy Friday in Manchester, coaxed him awake with some whispered greeting and watched what expressions played on his face. But the truth was he didn’t trust himself not to kiss him. And anyway, what could he even say? He’d only remember those tears and the rain and he’d realise he didn’t deserve this man. Or worse, Jason might look at him with eyes that had lost all hope and declare that forgiveness, this time, was asking too much. Everything I had to give was in asking you to stay. Howard had taken everything and broken it, so what was left to give? No. Instead Howard turned away and moved back down the corridor, reaching into his pocket for the CD.
Howard trusted music. It didn’t get scared. It didn’t stutter and stop then try and start again. It didn’t argue back for the sake of being right – not the way he did. Where he might get caught up in the moment and say the wrong thing, a song could remain entirely faithful to its emotion, unshaken by anything. Music didn’t simply explain an emotion, it made you live it – it could bring you back to a moment and even send others tumbling down into it with you. Maybe that was why he decided to go to the living room stereo and slip his latest composition into the player. Maybe that was why he didn’t shake Jason awake, but simply waited for the music to reach him, sitting himself down on the floor by the window to watch the raindrops make patterns across the glass in the meantime. Or perhaps it was the only way he could dare to try and explain. Off-kilter piano chords, soft and repetitive and heart-tired. It’s just a fraction of time, until we move in reverse. It was a start.
He knew he was there without looking. (They knew each other too well.) He hadn’t heard any footsteps in the corridor, or a tired sigh from behind him. There wasn’t even any clipped greeting. (They were beyond words really, or beyond most words, but for a select few which they kept repeating to each other in whispers and promises.) But all Howard heard was the piano chords, his own voice just starting to sing above them, and the sound of the Manchester rain. Still, he knew Jason was there, could feel his eyes on his back. Can feel the pressure on all our minds. He was suddenly aware of just how tired he felt. And just how desperately sad. It was as though the reality of the past week had only just caught up with him and so he sat, half-dazed, half-frightened, not daring to turn around. His body seemed to be in shock just from the sensation of Jason’s gaze and he was frozen, like a man who’d only just understood the ending of the film, realisation finally hitting that no one made it out alive. On the whole universe. Behind him Jason still watched, silent and steady, one hand resting against the wall, as though he needed the help to stay upright. And maybe he did. The past week had just caught up with him too. But for him it wasn’t only the emotions creeping up on him but the sheer physical energy of it all. He body ached and his heart ached and his head ached and he wanted more than anything to turn around and go back to sleep. But he couldn’t. Not when those piano chords shook him to the centre of his bones. We’ve had this battle a thousand times. Not when this man – this stupid, maddening man – was here. Jason sighed, pushing himself off the wall and coming over to the windows. He knew that, perhaps, he should just turn his back on him. He knew he was entitled to feel angry, but he simply couldn’t muster the strength. Never been here before. He pulled the sleeves of his hoody – Howard’s hoody, to be precise – down over his hands and wrapped his arms protectively around himself. Never been here before.
Howard didn’t know how long Jason stood there – it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt longer, and Howard was sure his breathing even slowed, just to drag the moment out. He could feel that terrific blue gaze on him and, for a fraction of a heartbeat, he regretted coming here. But it was only a fraction. He kept his stare trained on the windows – a way of holding onto his resolve, a flimsy armour against Jason’s ability to know, which, he was sure, was only at its strongest when he was allowed to look into his eyes. Ain’t got the strength to fight anymore. But Jason’s eyes still knew, always knew, and instead of a stubborn stand-off, Jason chose to sit down next to him, their shoulders just a breath apart. Got no desire to die anymore. A wordless gesture that provoked a pang in Howard’s chest. Every cell in his body wanted closeness, wanted to cross that tiny space that Jason had left. But Jason had left that space as protection for them both and he knew it. So he held his breath and forced himself to try and preserve what little distance was left. It was, after all, for his preservation more than Jason’s; Howard could still leave as long as they didn’t touch...but Jason knew that too, and he was the one to break their silent truce. I want to see you again, again, again. Jason’s hand came to rest on Howard’s arm and the distance was lost immediately. Now Howard was bound by a million silent promises. Ain’t got the strength to fight anymore. He felt Jason squeeze his upper arm and he liked the homeliness of the gesture. How many nights had he come home, despondent and tired and in too foul a mood for words, and Jason had somehow managed to ease it all with the slightest of squeezes. Howard shut his eyes tightly.
“What’s wrong, Howard Donald?” Whispered, like a secret for just the two of them to know. This room was the whole world when Jason whispered to him that softly and all Howard’s fears seemed suddenly ridiculous. But he could still hear the raindrops on the windows. And he could still remember all that the broken glass. What was wrong?
“Everything.” Now there was an admission. Don’t even know what I’m fighting you for. He could feel a tear sliding down his cheek, but for the first time that week it was Jason’s fingers that brushed the tear away, the touch sending a tremor along Howard’s skin. Warm. Gentle. Howard looked up at and met Jason’s gaze. And, to his amazement, Jason was smiling at him. It was faint but it was there, in his eyes if nowhere else.
“Mm.” Jason’s smile widened as he inclined his head in agreement. “It’s been one of those weeks,” he murmured, eyes glinting quietly. And Howard wanted to laugh. But the laugh came out as little more than a breath and he quickly looked down at his hands, swallowing it and shaking his head.
“You’re a stubborn bastard, Jason Orange.” He’d said it before but he felt the need to remind him anyway, and Jason rewarded him for that reminder with another small smile that danced briefly on his lips and, rather than fading away, rested there. His face was made for smiling, Howard thought.
“So they say,” Jason acknowledged, almost with a grin. “So they say.”
Again Howard lost track of time, distracted by his own heartbeat and the sound of the piano chords thrumming through his bones. And then, of course, there was Jason. This man he had tried so hard to leave behind was still there next to him – was that right? Howard looked across again.
“You should be resting,” he murmured and Jason’s eyes left the window to meet his own, a glimmer of playfulness in them that made Howard smile slightly.
“Well, I was trying. But then some idiot broke into my apartment and started playing me his demo CD.” Howard’s smile widened and Jason raised an eyebrow at him. That gesture was so familiar, a challenge to him. For a minute it was easy to forget that they’d ever left this spot – they were just bickering and teasing the way they had since they met. Always challenging each other, their constant contact and affection contradicting the declarations of war.
“Mm, you know it’s not breaking in if you have a key, right?” he replied. Jason pursed his lips, his blue eyes bright with affection that Howard wasn’t entirely convinced he deserved. “Any idea how this got back in my pocket?” he added, opening his hand to reveal his key. Jason gave him a sleepy smile, tilting his head to one side, as though seriously considering the problem.
“I willed it?” he suggested and Howard couldn’t help but let out a small, sad laugh.
“And why would you want to do that, Jay?” he asked, earnest and more than a little curious. Jason flashed that sleepy smile again, shrugging his shoulders idly and pulling his knees up to his chest.
“Because maybe I just don’t know when I’m beaten,” he said in a voice so quiet that Howard had to look at him to be sure he’d spoken at all. He studied him – and not the cuts or the strands of hair that fell across his forehead, but just him, all of him, his Jason – and he saw that sadness there that hadn’t left him since he was a kid. A kid whose dad had left and didn’t come back for far too long. He shouldn’t be able to hope the way he did. And yet he did, didn’t he. Because as resigned as his voice might sound, he was still sitting here, at Howard’s side. Willing to listen to what he had to say, even if there was a chance he would get his heart broken by it. But that was the amazing thing about Jason; he never did know when he was beaten. Dismiss it as stubbornness all you like, but actually it was something better than that. It was faith. And Howard hated himself for testing it.
“But maybe you weren’t beaten at all.” Jason looked over at him and Howard could see as much caution in his eyes as there was love. Both things he had put there. He felt Jason’s hand squeeze his arm again and he accepted the sad half-smile Jason mustered as permission to stay close.
Yesterday he had tried to leave. And that was the fact which hung in the air between them. But he hadn’t got very far. As far as Gary and Mark’s sofa, to be precise. Robbie had been there, and he and Mark had watched over him, aghast and disapproving, as he’d tried to explain to them all the reasons he had to go. And Gary had tried to pour as much tea and sense down him as he could. But Howard had been resolute. Jason wasn’t the only stubborn one, and Howard was stubbornly determined to be right this time. None of them could talk him down, and eventually they’d given up trying. In the end it was finding the key that had broken him. Jason just had to win, didn’t he? Six in the morning, scrabbling round for his phone, Howard had felt the metal and stilled immediately. The plan had been to book himself a plane ticket and use what was left of his strength to get on board the first flight to Germany available. But Jason had still been standing in his way – the man Howard had thought to have finally given up on him, the man Howard thought he had left in the rain, still always there, still always knowing. Howard didn’t know when Jason had managed to slip that key back into his pocket, didn’t know how, with the rain and the tears, he’d still had enough faith in him to do it at all. But he knew it changed something inside him. The righteous anger was gone and all that was left was confusion. The song had been borne out of that and Howard felt it explained more than he could. But he had to try and match it – Jason needed more than just music.
“Howard, why did you come here?” Howard looked over at Jason, his expression pained.
“Because I...” He faltered. Nothing had changed, not really. And he was still terrified. And convinced he wasn’t strong enough to stay. But leaving had become impossible...but maybe it had always been. “Because I think I probably belong here.” I wanna fill you with love. I wanna see you survive. Howard swallowed. “But I’m just...scared, Jay.”
“Of what?”
“Of disaster. Of rain. Of a lightning strike.” Just take a second to know yourself. “Of me bringing danger into your world just because I’m too stupid to leave you be.” For the rest of your life. Jason’s hand fell from his arm and Howard winced.
“Shut up, Howard Donald.” It wasn’t angry, but it was determined and Howard looked up at Jason in surprise. That gaze was bright, and he wasn’t smiling now. But his eyes were alive and Howard couldn’t look away. “When was the last time you can remember that it started raining and never stopped?” Jason stopped then, his face softening slightly. He reached out and Howard felt him take his hand. “I’m not used to normal, Howard. All I’ve understood for most of my life is disaster and I...I just don’t know how to love with smooth edges. My heart’s a mess no matter what you do.” He edged a little closer to Howard. “And it likes a challenge.”
“We’re not really falling apart, we’re just incomplete.” Jason smiled slightly as Howard whispered the words in perfect time and Howard looked away for fear of smiling back. “But if you forgot...”
“Howard, everything that I am – what I was, what I’ve been, what I am – is in your eyes. You’re the only one who sees all of me. And you know I never forgot that.” We’re not really falling apart, we’re just incomplete.
“Jay...” Howard breathed it out, trying to expel the anxiety, but Jason shook his head.
“Your problem is that all you listen to is the rain, Howard. And all you see is the broken glass.” Howard looked up. “Not the patterns they make. Just rain and glass and more rain.”
“And cuts too,” Howard reminded in a whisper. He touched a hand to Jason’s face then, and Jason’s eyes fluttered closed in response. He felt Howard’s fingers graze the cuts across his face and he swallowed hard, trying to stem any tears. He let out a long breath before he spoke again.
“Why did you come back, Howard?”
“Because you asked me to stay.” Jason opened his eyes slowly, meeting Howard’s nervously. “And that takes the kind of faith that shouldn’t be betrayed.” Howard smiled and glanced away. “You’re right, Jay.”
“I’m always right,” Jason managed to breathe, just avoiding more tears as he moved his hand up to Howard’s cheek.
“How can you even still look at me?” Howard’s face creased from sadness to fear and Jason smiled back at him quietly, his thumb brushing Howard’s skin as though he were trying to smooth the fear out by hand. “You asked me to stay and I left...” Howard stopped and looked into Jason’s face. “I left. How can you even stand to touch me?” he repeated and, after a beat, Jason shrugged.
“Honestly?” he sighed, still looking Howard in the eye, still on the brink of a smile. “I’m half-dazed on prescription-strength painkillers and I haven’t slept more than an hour since we last talked. I think I’m just too tired to care about the why, Howard. As long as you’re here.” Howard let out a soft laugh and Jason looked back up at him. “And...you did come home. Twenty-four hours late, but I married you in the knowledge you couldn’t keep time, so there’s no point me punishing you for that is there.” There was a glint in those eyes despite the tiredness and Howard’s lips quirked up. He leant his forehead against Jason’s, stroking a thumb across his cheek.
“I love you, you know that, right?” Jason mirrored his smile then, and, though his eyelids were heavy those eyes still shone. Jason loved him regardless of it all, Howard knew. And he saw it in that face as Jason leant back just enough to meet his eyes properly, still smiling quietly back at him.
“I never didn’t know it, love.” He leant in a little closer. “You just never thought to ask.”
The kiss had been on both their lips ever since that day at the hospital. Their arms found their ways around each other’s bodies, in patterns long-rehearsed and well-worn. Howard couldn’t help but hold Jason like he was about to break, but Jason didn’t object, because Howard was the only person allowed to know just how breakable he was. And Jason, for his part, didn’t hold Howard like he thought he was about to leave, he didn’t cling to him anxiously or clutch him close. That strangely resilient faith of his was a lot more to do with Howard than Howard would ever give himself credit for – it was a faith borne out of his touch and his love and, despite everything, it was a faith which remained. Jason knew, unshakeably, that he forgave Howard and he trusted him. He let Howard touch the cuts on his face, his fingertips tracing their path along his skin. And Howard made sure he memorised them, so that one day he could remember that they had been there, and that Jason had survived.
And later, when they were curled together underneath the sheets, listening to the rain on the windows and whispering truth and secrets back and forth, Jason asked, half-asleep, ‘Howard, are we going to be ok?’ – another admission of fragility that told Howard that, in Jason’s eyes, he would always be strong. He smiled and kissed Jason’s forehead once, looking down into his tired face.
“But don’t forget, Jay, our first kiss was in the rain.”
Epilogue
It was a Tuesday. Just another in that long, Mancunian summer. And in amidst the damp, puddled tarmac of the city, nothing could stay the same for long. Life existed in the city’s streets, never far from the next disaster. Lips would rain-spattered and cheeks would be flushed, but the city was always breathing, always beating on. In Manchester they had learnt to dance in the rain, or so some people said, and hiding from the storm was thought of as the poorest way to live. On Oldham Street a man shuffled past the red and gold front of Barlow’s Music Shop. He pressed his face up to the glass and peered inside, the shop drawing his curiosity – but all was dark and the window-display was dusty so he shook his head and went on his way.
“I just don’t understand why you’re not angrier with me – I was stood out there mithering coz I thought I was gonna get an earful.”
“Or a smack in the chops.”
“Gaz!” Mark thwacked Gary’s arm and Jason looked up in amusement at his outrage whilst Robbie smothered a smirk.
“What? I’ve seen him do it to his brothers!” Gary protested, fighting Mark for space on the armchair and losing. Howard nodded at that remark, his eyes absent.
“And then his mother does it to him and tells him to behave,” he pointed out. Jason glanced over at him with a soft smile, tilting his head.
“And she never wonders where I got it from...” he remarked, eyes twinkling playfully, and Howard looked up to meet his gaze. Jason winked at him, then turned away to see to the boiling kettle behind. Howard watched him, the corner of his lips twitching up.
“I’m just saying I know I would’ve deserved it,” Robbie put in from his space on the floor, trying to bring the conversation back to him. Mark pursed his lips and glanced away, his ears briefly ringing with the memory of broken glass, and Gary squeezed his hand and kissed his neck before glancing over thoughtfully at Jason, who had paused in his tea-making, seemingly considering Robbie’s words carefully before he replied.
“I’ve learned to pick my battles,” he said at last and Gary raised an eyebrow.
“How come?” Jason flashed another twinkling smile, suddenly dismissive of it all again.
“I married a man who can’t keep a straight face when I shout at him, it’s usually easier to just stay calm.” Jason looked over at Howard then and he smiled. He smiled his smile and from his place on the sofa Howard felt it and it made him want to smile too. Because it was finally, truly, Jason’s smile – all glittering eyes and no fear. There was no lingering dazedness and no doubt. Just Jason, looking over at Howard the way he always had. Like nothing had ever happened. And yes, most of the cuts had healed now, though there were still marks left across Jason’s skin, many of which only Howard knew. (And he knew every one of them). And yes, his wedding ring was back on his finger. (And Howard would stroke his thumb over it every night as they lay together in bed, the sheets pulled over both their heads.) But this was more than that, this was Jason finally awake. He wasn’t mumbling that all was forgiven as he slowly fell asleep. Or holding Howard close because his body was aching. He wasn’t only letting Howard stay because he was too tired to tell him to go. He was ok now. Ok with everything. His grudge was no more with Robbie than it was with Howard. There was no grudge. They’d all survived. And Jason still looked up to meet Howard’s eyes – and Howard’s eyes only – as he laughed and Robbie chattered away. It was raining still, even now Howard could hear it on the window, but they were all still here all the same.
Jason handed round the teas, climbing over Robbie in order to get back to his spot on the sofa, curling himself into Howard’s side.
“So I had a call from Jonathan yesterday.” Mark and Robbie’s good-natured bickering paused as they looked over at Gary wide-eyed. Jason lifted his head from Howard’s shoulder, and Howard’s gaze finally left Jason’s face. The four men paused, wordless, watching Gary and trying to judge what sort of news he might be about to impart. And then, slowly, Gary’s face broke into a smile. “He said there’s people interested in taking us on as songwriters. We just have to say if we’re up for it.” Mark gasped and Robbie grinned and both were clearly about to gush into enthusiastic agreement when, to everyone’s surprise, Jason laughed. Robbie’s head spun round and he looked at him carefully, waggling his eyebrows in joking concern.
“Watch out Howard, I think Jay’s lost his marbles.” For that Jason leant over and cuffed Robbie lightly round the head, but his grin only widened.
“You’re implying he had marbles to lose,” Howard mumbled. Jason sighed and rolled his eyes.
“You married me,” he pointed out, deadpan, and Howard could stop the shy, childish smile that touched his lips. He didn’t look at Jason, but he knew his eyes were shining. “Look I’m just...don’t any of you find us slightly ridiculous? As a group of people, I mean? We just lurch from one life-altering event to the next without ever stopping for breath!” he reminded them all and Robbie smirked. Gary couldn’t help but grin either, but over Howard and Mark’s faces, anxious clouds passed. Howard swallowed and tried to steady his heartbeat, but he knew it was too late, Jason already knew how he was feeling.
“So you’re not up for it? This songwriting thing?” Mark ventured and Jason flashed him a smile.
“I never said that.” Mark’s face fell back into its usual grin and Jason glanced at Howard “But...I don’t think it’s my decision to make.” Howard looked down at the floor and pretended not to have noticed Jason’s gaze. “I’m not the steel of this band,” Jason added softly. Those words were what forced Howard to look at him. This was life, happening right here and their home, with all its uncertainty. And rain – there was rain still, he could hear it still. But they were still here. Stay, Howard. You taught me to stay so stay with me too. That was how they had built their life, it was all they knew.
“Will you still dance with me even if it all goes pear-shaped?” he whispered and Jason smiled at him, giving his hand a tight squeeze.
“Always.” Howard kissed Jason’s temple and the other three watched them, stifling relieved smiles before pretending to be fascinated by their mugs of tea.
It was a Tuesday. And, in that moment, it was just another in that long, Mancunian summer.
And something starts all over again.