Page 19 of Electric Boy

“I know you haven’t done this sort of thing before.” At the further furrowing of Julian’s brow, Michael amended, “With a man, I mean. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m only pursuing you with one end in mind.”

“I know you’re not,” Julian said softly, lowering his gaze as his fingers toyed absently with the buttons of Michael’s coat. “I wouldn’t ever think that.”

“Because you’re too kind, sweetest.”

Julian ducked his head bashfully at the endearment.

“The right thing is to take our time. Show you that I care about more than just getting off with you. Because you’re worth doing things right for.”

“Stop,” Julian said, smiling. “You’ll make me blush.” He was already blushing.

Michael risked it and leaned in to plant a chaste, tender kiss on his lips. When he pulled back, he saw that Julian’s expression had melted back into one of dreaminess and he knew he needed to leave now before he lost the tenuous grip he had on his self-control.

“Goodnight, Julian,” he said. “I’ll call you.”

He stalked up the stairs and disappeared into the night like the creature of shadows that he was.

Chapter Twelve: Shout

Things were a bit tense in the shop for the first few hours of Julian’s shift. He’d arrived late -- of course he had -- and had avoided eye contact with Rahul as he’d come around the counter and sat himself farther away than normal. His jumper today was an eye-wateringly bright blue with a neon geometric pattern. It stood in stark contrast to his dark hair and darker mood.

Two and a half customers came in. One, a regular, to pick up the Marc Johnson vinyl he’d ordered; the other, a girl who came in just to browse but ended up flirting with Julian for a solid twenty minutes and left without buying anything; and the half being a German tourist asking to use their toilet. Rahul, against his better judgement, thawed with every passing moment.

Rahul had been so distressed last night that when he’d returned to his flat -- a full three hours before Kwambe -- he’d pulled on a jumper Julian had forgotten there the last time he’d come over, took a bottle of whiskey with him to bed, and drank until he’d fallen unconscious. He’d awoken with a blinder and a slightly brighter outlook, though not by much. He knew he’d done nothing wrong. When he faced his unkempt reflection in the mirror, he’d determined that he would not be the one to apologise first this time. Let Julian be the one to own up to his mistakes for once in his bloody life.

Now, however, seeing Julian only barely muster the strength to flirt back with the pretty blonde who’d engaged him earlier, his convictions crumbled. He could never stay miffed at Julian for long.

“Look, Jules, I --” he began, only to be cut off by Julian himself.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

Did he know that? In a way, yes. He knew Julian hadn’t meant to say those things to hurt him, that it had just come out in a momentary passion. But he knew Julian believed what he said. Because it was, in fact, true. Rahul had no life outside of Julian. He was clingy and possessive, and when he wasn’t being boring, he was being actively unpleasant. He couldn’t help those things. They were in his nature. It was strange to say that Julian being the centre of his world was in his nature, but that was the God’s honest truth. He didn’t know any other way to be than as a satellite orbiting the planet Julian. Rahul had come to terms with that some time ago. The one who had yet to accept it was Julian. Did Julian need him? Maybe, maybe not. But dear, God did Rahul need him.

Rahul materialised a smile from out of thin air like a magician conjuring a rabbit. “I know, small fry. Don’t you worry your empty little head over it. All right? If I’m being honest, I was rather harsh myself.” He did not, in fact, believe he’d been too harsh. He did, however, believe this was what Julian wanted to hear.

Julian beamed and brought his stool closer, proving that Rahul had made the right call. “It means the world to hear you say that. Honest. I was up half the night thinking about how we’d left things. I think you and Michael are both top-notch. You’re my mates. I mean, you’ll always be my best mate, right? But I want to be able to meet new people and have you get on with them the same as me. So we can be a group of friends, yeah? And Michael’s brilliant. I mean it. You’ll love him if you get to spend time with him. I know you will.”

Ah, poor naive Julian. This is precisely what got Rahul so worked up about Michael. That man -- older, wealthier, more privileged -- saw a sweet, ditzy kid and knew he could take advantage of him. It wouldn’t take much doing to take advantage of Julian. You wouldn’t even need a gingerbread house in the country. All you’d need is an unlocked door and half a bag of Hula Hoops and he’d waltz willingly into whatever trap you’d set up for him. This was what made Rahul feel he needed to protect him. He had burdened himself all these years to keep Julian safe from the dangers of the world and those who would do him harm. He’d be damned if he was about to let Michael do just that under his very nose.

“Yeah. I’m sure I would,” Rahul said through a wafer-thin smile. No. He would not. He was, in fact, going to redouble his efforts to expose this “Michael” for the fraud and menace that he was.

Julian was about to reply when the chime tolled above the door. He reflexively turned his charming grin client-side, but he and Rahul were greeted not by a customer but by a contrite and sultry-looking Aisling.

A strange and contradictory part of Rahul was grateful. If she was here, it meant they were going to make up. If they made up, Julian would have no time for Michael the Saviour. As much as Rahul loathed Aisling, she was the devil that he knew, and he had experience enough to know that Aisling was only taking advantage of Julian as much as Julian was taking advantage of her. A co-dependent relationship was still better than a predatory one.

So Rahul’s smile became a little more genuine as he levelled it at her, causing her to look back at him with confusion and mild alarm. “Look who it is, Jules,” Rahul added in an unnaturally cheerful voice. But instead of the barely contained excitement Rahul expected to see on Julian’s face, he was met with an expression that was uncharacteristically stony.

If Aisling was put off by this, she didn’t show it. She bit her lip and sidled up to the counter, looking the very picture of coquettish contrition. She folded her arms on the counter and leaned in, giving Julian and Rahul both a dizzying perspective of her cleavage. Whilst Rahul had never been interested in mountain climbing, he could definitely see the appeal and beauty of Mount Everest.

“Hello, chicken,” she said in an infantile voice that made some of Rahul’s lunch come up into his throat.

“All right,” Julian replied, as flat and immovable as his expression.

Aisling blinked her long, dark lashes, notably nonplussed. She quickly recovered, however, and laid the act on extra thick. “Haven’t you forgiven me yet, darling? I’ve quite forgotten what it was we were even fighting about.”

“Really? ‘Cause I haven’t.”

Aisling attempted to laugh this off. “Come now, chicken. You can’t still be as cross with me as all that. You were the one who was carrying on with someone else, after all.”