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“Nothing.” Kai shrugged. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just getting over being ill and I guess I’m a bit jealous of all the fun you got to have down there. FOMO vibes, if you will.”
Leo eyed him suspiciously. “You sure?”
“Scout’s honour.” Kai crossed his heart.
“You weren’t in the scouts, were you?”
“Doesn’t matter, it’s still a thing,” said Kai, the beginnings of a smile starting to return.
Feeling a little better, more at ease too, Leo reached over him and snatched the Chinese takeaway menu from the arm of the sofa. “Come to papa,” he said, salivating at the prospect of some of the gloopiest sweet and sour pork balls known to man from May’s Kitchen.
Kai slapped his thigh, then got up to go to his room. “You go ahead and order. You know what I want.”
“Hey, what?” He watched as Kai walked into his room and shut the door. “I thought you were up for watching something as well?”
“Later. You can handle a little TV without me.”
Was that what all this was about? Did Kai feel as if this was Leo’s gig, and that he was just the catalyst who was to propel him to stardom?
“Wouldn’t let anyone leave you out, mate,” he said quietly to himself. It was Leo’s talent that had won the deal, but Kai had fed him all of the initial ideas.
But he felt out of sorts too, and he couldn’t put his finger on why as a tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away and sat looking at the dampness coating his fingertips. It felt like he was mourning the loss of a lover that he hadn’t met yet.
Leo took a deep breath, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, facing the window, the sound of the rain beating a steady rhythm against the window.
He evened out his breathing and started to clear his mind. Meditating was the only solution.
As he focussed on his breathing and relaxed all of his body parts one by one, he felt the negative thoughts drift out of his mind, like they were stowing away on clouds being blown in the wind.
His mind was gradually clearing, but there was another complication he hadn’t considered.
Was Kai falling in love with him?
Because that look of his a moment ago; it sure as hell looked like a lover who had lost a battle and the will to carry on any fight.
ChapterTwenty-Three
“In here,” shouted Quint as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He dropped the box he was carrying onto the sofa in front of him and turned to greet Harry, whose footsteps echoed down the hall.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” said Harry, cheekily, wiping a thick layer of dust from the doorframe with his finger.
“Ha bloody ha. I’ve been busy. This is only the second load from Chiswick.”
“I don’t envy you. I hate moving. I almost feel bad for giving this place to you now.” Harry moved through to the kitchen and took a bite of the middle of his cinnamon bun.
“Don’t suppose you brought me one of those did you?” Quint followed him in.
“I did, but I ate it. They’re faaacking delicious, excuse my Latin.”
“Asshole.”
Quint shook his head, suddenly feeling a pang of hunger, or maybe it was jealousy?
Harry dusted his hands over the sink, a double moan of pleasure following the last bite down his throat, every flake of the bun looking as though they caressed his tastebuds. “Mmm-mm. Of all the worlds I’ve lived on, and we both know that is alot, I’ve never tasted anything more delicious than a cinnamon bun from the Deli on the Hill. Actually, maybe one thing. There was a planet called Nosamar. Gawd knows where that is in relation to ’ere. The most fantastic cream you will ever taste. I haven’t got a Scooby what animal it came out of, didn’t wanna know, if I’m honest, but mate… ex-bloody-quisite,” he said, blowing an animated chef’s kiss to the ceiling.
Quint furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t make me want a cinnamon bun any less,” he huffed.
Harry laughed him off as he took a seat and sat back patting his stomach. “So, tell me your news. How’s it going with Leo? You ’appy?”
