“I brought you this.” I thrust out my empty hand.
Weighing it up, his deadened eyes hold something unreadable. “Did you forget something?”
Yes, my own fucking brain.“It’s an imaginary peace lily. The garden centre isn’t open at this time of night. This one’s a beauty, though. Cute and serene and calming.”Like you.
“Um…okay?” He chews the inside of his cheek, assessing me. His lips look cracked and sore. Still pretty, but he’s like a washed-out sock.
“Can I start tonight over again?” I plead. “But better? I fucked up earlier, and I’ve come to say sorry. You’re really not well, are you? I didn’t notice.”
“I’m okay.” His gaze slides to the floor. “Tired, that’s all.”
Reaching out, I lift his chin. His skin’s cool, dark shadows cup his eyes. “Hey, it’s me, rash whisperer. That idiot, Neil. You don’t need to hide stuff from me. You’re feeling low, aren’t you?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine. And you’ve got a lot on. You should be at work.”
“Fuck work.” I shake my head. “And fuck my eyes for a night. My best boy needs a fat dose of TLC, and I didn’t notice.”
This time when he lets me in, I switch on a second light and glance around properly.
Luke tugs his hood tighter around him.
“It’s not that bad, honestly,” he insists, rubbing his face. “It will pass. I occasionally have a run of days like this. And if I take things easy, then the chemicals in my head sort themselves out and I get better again.”
He shuffles back into the sitting room, dropping to the sofa. I trail after. “Do you feel a need to pull your hair?”
“God, no. I haven’t needed to do that for a long time.”
He’s manipulating his beads, though. White-knuckled. “Sure?”
“I’m fine. I’ll shake it off in no time. I’ve probably been overdoing things, that’s all.”
Part of me remains a tad sceptic, but Luke knows far more about mental health than I do, his own in particular. “Have you eaten something today?”
He looks as if he’s trying to remember. Not good enough.
“Okay. Can you manage some toast? And do you have hot chocolate?”
“Really, you don’t have to do this. You should be working at the bar.”
“I know. But they can cope. And you should know, Luke. I’m not one to run when things get ugly.”
“And I’m not one to share when they do. Listen, I was planning to text you. I’m going away tomorrow. My mum has a place in Wales. I’m spending a few days there.” He rubs at his drawn face. “I just need to hunker down, catch my breath, and then I’ll be fine again. I promise.”
A stormy knot builds in the pit of my stomach. “Are you giving me the brush-off, rash whisperer? Is that what this is?”
“No. I’m…no. Why would I?”
“Because…” Wow. Asking him this hurts a lot. “Because maybe you don’t like me as much as I like you?”
Luke’s eyebrows lift in a flicker of surprise; the words hang there between us. I feel another quick beat of panic before his face softens and he shakes his head.
“I’m not giving you the brush-off, I promise. Putting distance between us, between me and my life here, isn’t rejection. I’m…this is what works for me when I’m low. It’s just a phase, a rough patch. I have them. And…I don’t know how much you like me, but I like you a lot too, okay?”
His greeny-brown eyes stare into mine so guilelessly I give him the benefit of the doubt. But still, him preferring to nurse his low mood all on his lonesome in Wales instead of being cossetted by me, lodges in my craw. Somehow, this sweet man slipped into my pocket alongside my wallet and my house keys, and the idea of him not being a ten-minute walk away does things to my insides I don’t entirely want to dissect. And, man-child that I am, it also leaves me feeling a little pissed. I need him here. Having him at the end of a phone line or a short stroll away helps me cope.
“All right.” I give him one of my best smiles. I’ll grind out my frustration later, in private. “But how about you take a quick shower whilst I rustle something up?”
The tiniest of smiles creases his mouth. “Are you saying I smell?”
