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Laughing, he picked out another small piece of toastie and put it in his mouth.
He had nice lips. Soft and puffy.
Fuck.
“You know earlier, you said something about not being able to watch sports on TV. You said it triggered you?”
Oh. I had said that, hadn’t I? I swallowed a little too loudly. “That’s why I don’t have a TV.”
“So you lied about that.” He smirked.
“And you lied about the cheesecake.”
“Little white lie. Didn’t want to upset you. You know, insult your cooking skills.”
“Ditto,” I said. Swallowed again. “Didn’t want to tell you what a mess I am.”
“You’re not a mess, Ben.”
I loved his voice, his calm demeanour. It gave me a chance to think. And talk, apparently.
“I was never much good at school stuff either. They didn’t give me a dyslexia diagnosis until senior school, and by then I’d given up anyway. But I was good at sports. I used to be really good at rugby.”
“I can imagine that. Your size and those…arms.”
“Shut up.” I had to smile. This wasn’t what I’d planned on telling him, but now I’d started, it was like the words kept coming, one after the other. “I was the rugby team captain at senior school, and I was all…cocky back then. I knew I was good. We always won. Well, almost always. If I was on form, we won.”
“So you were one of those jocks. Sporty dickheads. I bet you had all the girls running after you. And the boys.”
“Nah. I wasn’t really interested. I wanted to play rugby. Like, really wanted it. I loved the contact and team spirit and excitement and the whole muddy mess of it. So Mum and my coach helped me apply for this specialist sports college. A really prestigious place, lots of rugby legends had gone there, and then their kids went there, so very steeped in tradition and I was… God, I was so excited to get a place.”
I had to breathe. Because this part? This was the part I didn’t talk about. I hadn’t even told Mark the full story at first. Back then, it had been too raw. Too difficult. Too full of trauma.
“The first match for us new recruits, we had to play against the second years. Like a warm-up match. And me being me, I went full in because I didn’t know any better. I played like I was the team captain and I shouted and pushed, and…we won.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” he asked. I shook my head.
“The matches weren’t actually matches. They were part of this fucked-up hazing culture, and we were supposed to let the other team win. The next week was hell. Pure hell.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Not quite what I’d expected. I was so proud of myself, and it all got beaten out of me. Not literally, but when your lunch is constantly thrown in your face and your kit goes missing, and for God’s sake, we were eighteen. Bloody adults!”
I didn’t realise how upset this made me. Still. After all these years. It helped that Hugo listened and stayed calm. So calm.
“The second match was against the seniors. I’d cottoned on by then, and I was going to hang back, not stand out. Just play and pass the ball. It didn’t go well.”
I had to take a break because the tears were pouring out of me. I’d thought I was stronger than this, that it wouldn’t affect me the way it once had, but it did affect me. It bloody did.
“It was raining, and the pitch was muddy and then… They all went for me. All of them. On top of me, shoving me, pushing me around. I remember laughter and the sheer weight of them on my back, and I struggled and my face was in the mud and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t shout. I couldn’t do shit. And the panic… It didn’t last long. It wasn’t like my life flashed before my eyes or anything. I just…struggled and swallowed mud and then…it was over. Like I’d passed out.”
He said nothing, just shuffled a little closer. I reached for his hand, held it. Stroked his fingers.
“My mum was there, watching. It changed her life. Because once they actually realised that I wasn’t moving, shit hit the fan. I died on that pitch. I fucking died, Hu! My mum had to watch them stick a bloody defibrillator on me in the rain, and it didn’t do anything, and then someone was trying to give me CPR and Mum was screaming and…”
“Ben,” he whispered.
“I wasn’t there to hear it. Thank God.”
