Page 40 of Electric Boy

“Accusing me of being a stalker now?” Michael laughed mirthlessly. “That’s quite an accusation to make, coming from you, who followed his best friend across the city on a wild hunch. And a baseless accusation, certainly, considering you don’t have a shred of evidence.”

“No evidence, you say?” The cold smile grew, a distended, gruesome thing like the rictus grin of a corpse. “That’s interesting, sir, very interesting, considering you spent nearly three months staring at Julian from across this very pub before your so-called first meeting. And before you get all geared up to deny it, you pointed out yourself that I left Julian at the Barber that night before he got loaded after he’d had a row with Aisling, which you’d have no way of knowing about unless you’d already been watching him the whole night.”

“Julian told me,” he lied quickly.

“Did he now.” It wasn’t a question. Rahul glared at him unblinkingly, smile firmly affixed. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. He put Michael in mind of a cat that was poised to pounce.

This was going very badly indeed. He’d promised Julian he would try his best with Rahul. He couldn’t care less whether Rahul lived or died -- though the longer this went on, the more he wished the bugger would get hit by a lorry on his way home, just to save them all the trouble -- but he did care about complications. He wanted to continue seeing Julian. Rahul complicated that by being so outspokenly opposed to Michael’s relationship with Julian. He had known Julian much longer, after all. They had a close, deep bond. If Rahul insisted enough, Julian might just listen to him. As much as it pained him, he was going to have to find a way to make nice with this Rahul person.

“Listen, Rahul,” Michael began, feeling he deserved a BAFTA for the friendly tone he was able to plaster over his seething hatred. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I care about Julian. Genuinely. It’s important to him that we get on, so I want to make that happen. As his friend, don’t you want that, too?”

“It’s because I care about Julian that I don’t want you around him,” Rahul said frankly. “He’s different. He’s naive. He doesn’t always know what’s best for him. Lets him be taken advantage of by people like you.”

“I know Julian lacks experience, and comparatively I have a great deal of experience, but because of that I’m making an effort for us to be open and entirely honest with one another. Since he’s never been with a man before, I am doing my utmost to go slow and make sure that Julian is on board every step of the way.”

Rahul’s face took on a strange cast, something complicated that made Michael uneasy. “You’re entirely honest with each other?”

Michael tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Entirely.”

“So then you’ll already know that you’re not the first man Julian’s been with.”

There was a ringing sound in Michael’s ears, like a television set that’s lost its signal. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table. “Beg your pardon?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you told each other everything.” Rahul’s complicated expression resolved itself into a triumphant smirk. “Did he not tell you we slept together?”

* * *

The ringing in Michael’s ears persisted, the shock after an explosion. He had no recollection of ending the encounter with Rahul or getting himself home, but he must have done or how else would he have found himself back in his flat?

Julian was there, helping him out of his coat and prattling away cheerfully, entirely oblivious.

“See? Didn’t I say the two of you would get on if you’d only just give it a chance? You’re both right clever. Rahul’s always going on about old jazz musicians and philosophers and whatever, and you, well, you write and things. You’re a genius. I’m sure you’ve got loads to talk about --”

Michael wasn’t listening. How could he hear anything over this incessant ringing? The ringing rather resembled Rahul’s self-satisfied voice saying, “Did he not tell you we slept together?” over and over and over again.

“-- and did I ever tell you he writes poetry? Mental, that. What kind of grown man writes poetry? He’s a real character. I’m sure you can see now why I think he’s tops --”

“You slept with him.”

He wanted Julian to deny it, wanted him to say Rahul had made it up to goad him. That would make sense. It’d make far more sense than Julian lying to him. Than his pristine, untouched boy had been sullied by another man’s filthy touch.

Instead, Julian’s already pallid complexion blanched further. His enormous eyes were particularly shiny. “He promised he’d never tell,” was what he said, in a voice so hushed as to be a whisper. Or a prayer.

Michael hadn’t realised he’d kicked the end table across the room until it hit the wall and splintered. Julian cowered like a dog about to be struck, shoulders hunched and ready for a blow.

Michael forced himself to relax his fingers out of the painful fists he’d balled them into. He breathed deeply through his nose, in and out -- a hot, noisy sound in the silence that followed the explosion of the end table. He wasn’t going to hurt Julian. What would that accomplish? He just had to take a moment and think.

What was it he really wanted? To have Julian. What -- or who -- was getting in the way of that? Rahul. He and Julian weren’t just pathetically codependent friends, they’d been lovers. What did it mean that Julian had kept it secret and, from what he’d said, had intended to continue keeping it secret? There were feelings there that ran deeper than anything he’d suspected. He’d thought that Rahul was putting himself in the middle of his and Julian’s relationship, but it seemed that Michael was the one who had stumbled into a complex situation already in progress. He was… dear God, he was the third wheel.

He felt his pulse even out and a cool clarity wash over him as the outlines of a plan came to him. It wouldn’t be easy, for any of them, but they would all feel so much better once it was over and Julian was where he belonged. With whom he belonged.

Julian saw him calm and seized the opportunity, desperate and ingratiating. “It was nothing, Michael. Honest. It happened ages ago. I’d really forgotten all about it. It didn’t mean anything. I can’t believe he even brought it up. It was really years and years ago. I haven’t even thought about it since then. You believe me, don’t you? Or else I’d have said something. You know I would have. Michael, I --”

He cut off abruptly as Michael took his face tenderly in both hands. He looked at Michael with big, pleading eyes. There was a part of Michael that felt quite satisfied seeing him beg for his forgiveness and be genuinely frightened at the idea of losing him. It meant that Michael’s plan had a real shot at succeeding.

“It’s all right, love. I’m not angry,” Michael said, keeping his voice as soft and understanding as a priest in confessional. “It’s not your fault. Whatever it is that’s going on between you and Rahul, it’s more than I signed up for. That’s on me. I expected to come into this without having to fight for my position in your life.”

Julian’s chin dimpled with a quiver. “What are you saying? Are you breaking up with me?”