Page 26 of Taste

I didn’t let myself think about what I was doing as I silently trod along the pavements with my head down in some self-inflicted haze of need. I suddenly wished I’d dressed differently for this, that I’d worn something braver than this grey business suit. But then that would have been a different me, one who no longer existed.

My feet kept a steady pace until I turned up the road leading into the deserted park he’d mentioned. The pavements glittered with frost as I lengthened my stride into a run and set off at a pace far too fast for my burning throat. I ran, my lungs taking the pain, my feet slamming into the gravel as I slid and almost went down on a particularly sharp turn. Still, I ran until my feet were back on solid pavement, then over a deserted crossing, only slowing when my chest felt like it was about to explode.

I knew roughly where I was and set off again towards the area where he lived, glancing at the road signs as I passed by the lit-up entrances and the twinkling of Christmas lights in the windows above. It was almost one in the morning, so the parties were over. Children were fast asleep in their beds, their parents probably asleep too. There was just the odd, lonely shadow of a human, like me, walking briskly by in the frosty air. I found his road and increased my pace again to a slow jog, scanning the numbers on the terraced houses, most of them divided into basement studios with offices above or former upmarket townhouses cut up into tiny, cramped flats. Stopping outside the entrance that had his number over the doorway, I allowed myself a moment to breathe, nervously reading the names next to the buzzers.

This was stupid. But somehow, I still hadn’t chickened out.

My hand shook as I pointed my finger at the button next to his name, my heart beating almost through my ribcage. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and took a deep breath. Pressed the buzzer.

There was no reply. I pressed again. Told myself I would wait for a minute, press again and then go home.

I didn’t notice the movement at first, but then an outside light came on, and he appeared, looking up at me from the stairwell to the basement flat below. He was barefooted, a well-washed T-shirt partly covering his boxers, the nakedness of his legs making me shiver on his behalf.

He didn’t seem surprised to see me, instead holding the door open, waiting for me to come to him.

I stumbled down the steps, walked straight up to him and laid my head against his shoulder. His arms folded around me, squeezing me tighter and tighter with every breath.

“You’re here,” he whispered into my hair and kissed my forehead while I tried to hold back my tears. I didn’t want to cry and swallowed the sobs until holding them back caused me physical pain, at which point he gently shuffled me through door and closed it behind us.

I was sobbing desperately as he pulled my coat off and let it drop to the rug, followed by my suit jacket, then unfastened my belt and yanked my trousers down so I could hobble out of them, all while I kept my grip on his T-shirt, grasping for him and trying to keep my face buried in his chest.

“It’s okay, Finn, It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” He spoke to me like I was a small child, cooing and shushing me with every little stroke of his fingers as he unbuttoned my shirt. My tie was already gone; I couldn’t remember him pulling it away from around my neck.

In the end, he let me go, turning away from me to open the door to what I assumed was the bathroom. I could hear him rummaging around in there while I stood in his hallway wearing just my boxers and socks, my arms folded around myself and tears streaming down my face. It was so absurd that I started to laugh in among the sobs.

“I’m such a disaster,” I blurted as he emerged from behind the door holding a bathrobe.

“You’re allowed to be. It’s nothing we can’t deal with,” he said and smiled at me, which made me lose it again, ugly crying, slobbering snot and tears as he swept the bathrobe around my shoulders and held it steady so I could get my arms inside. Reaching around me, he gathered the ends of the belt and tied them neatly in front of me.

“Come,” was all he said, and I followed him. At that point, I would have followed him anywhere he’d asked me to.

I sat next to him on the sofa, and he lifted a crumpled duvet from the floor, pulling it over our legs and then pulling me closer until I was half lying on him, his arms around my back and his lips pressed to my forehead.

“There,” he whispered. “Cuddles and duvets. I’ll even blow your nose if you need me to.”

Oh God, he was ridiculous. But I loved it. Every little stroke over my back. Every small kiss on my forehead.

“I missed this,” he said. “Having you like this, with me.”

“I missed it too,” I hiccupped out. “I need this.”

“You can have it. Because it’s yours. You can have anything you want.” His words were soft and soothing. Too much kindness, more than I deserved.

“I don’t understand,” I started, but he shushed me into silence.

“There’s nothing to understand. This is the way I see it. You and me? We understand this stuff, because we’re more similar than we want to admit and also far too old to deal with all the crap that comes with hooking up with people who will never mean anything to us. I know what I like, and I like you. You don’t take any of my bullshit, and you drive me crazy, in the best possible way. You make me try harder, and…” He stopped and let out a little giggle. “You make me hard. In every way. I love how you make me want to please you, how you take the control and make me feel all… Too much information.” He paused, flushing a little. “I have to fight so hard for your attention, and you push me away from every bloody angle, hiding under that massive shield of yours, but goddamn it, Finn, when you were standing there on my doorstep sobbing your heart out? I knew I’d finally got through to you, and I felt every single bloody sob of yours, because that was me earlier this evening. I cried all the way home, totally wrung out emotionally, and I just needed… I tried. I tried to come to you, hoped you would just understand what I needed and what I was offering.”

“What are you offering?” I asked, sniffling. “Because I don’t buy it. You and me. All the bullshit coming out of your mouth. We…the two of us? Disaster. Nuclear meltdown. If I need therapy now, just imagine what state I’ll be in when you decide you’ve had enough of my stone-cold ass and dump me like a wet rag.”

“I wouldn’t dump you, darling, you’re not listening. I’m offering you…well, me. Not that I’ve ever had a long-term relationship, but this is what I want. I want you. And you want me. So, for fuck’s sake, Finley. Please.”

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” came out of my mouth. To be honest, I didn’t know what I was asking for either.

“I just want the simple things in life, I told you that. I don’t want to grow old on my own. I don’t want to be that pathetic old queen in a club somewhere. I don’t even want the fucking club. I want to spend my evenings on this grotty old sofa with you in my arms, knowing I’m not alone. I want to figure out how to love you, and you know, I think you’d be so bloody good at loving me too. You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, Finn. You love me. I know you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have come here.”

“I…” There was nothing I could say. Mark Quinton had a gift, and he read me like a bloody book with all my secrets printed neatly on the cover.

Yet there were things Ineededto say, like the fact that I couldn’t, and never would, ever trust him. I needed get out of my system all the things I knew about his past, but the temptation was to throw them at his face like sharpened daggers, hit him with the truth of his staggeringly reckless irresponsibility with other people’s feelings. Other people’s entire lives. Other people’s hearts.

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