Stupid things

My room looked the same as always. Relaxed from a shower, I swallowed my meds down with a glass of water and put some product in my hair—a freebie left over from a beauty convention. The people in charge had been unusually generous, gifting us measly staff all kinds of things to take home and try.

Not that I could afford things like this. Hair serums and skin boosters and whatever. But freebies were nice.

Dad had gone to bed and the house was quiet. I could just about hear the kid upstairs crying, and their TV was still on. A slow beat came through the wall from the flat next door.

Home. It was always like this.

I’d never known this place to be completely silent. If it wasn’t the traffic outside, it was the people inside. I snagged Mr Snuggles and tugged the duvet around my shoulders.

Stared at the light from my phone. Nothing.

Nothing was good.

Why didn’t I believe that?

I could be friends with The Dieter. I could. I didn’t particularly want to have a boyfriend called Graham, who kept on hugging me and making me feel all kinds of fucked in the head.

I was fucked in the head.

I roared into poor Mr Snuggles.

My mum had bought him for me. Well, knowing her at the time, she’d probably nicked him from the toyshop where I’d been admiring him for weeks. Big and soft and fluffy.

I never got much as a kid, but she’d given me Mr Snuggles. And I’d loved him. More than anything else in the world.

I hugged him tighter.

Closed my eyes.

I slept, though not for long since my phone started ringing and scared the living daylights out of me.

Oh, fuck. What now? Probably work. Or Gray.

“Hey,” I said in a croaky voice.

“Hello.” Not Gray then.

I stared at the screen. Gray’s number… Weird. I put it back to my ear. “Yes?”

“My name is Khan. I’m security.”

Sharp needles of anxiety stabbed the back of my neck.

“We have an altercation going on at McDonald’s on the corner of the Rye. Are you local to Peckham?”

“Ehhr…” I sat up and rubbed my head. I had no idea what was going on. “Sorry. Could you explain?”

“We have someone locked in the toilets in the downstairs of McDonald’s. He’s refusing to come out and asked me to call you.”

I was tempted to pinch myself to check I was actually awake. Did that work?

“Why?” I asked.

“There’s a rather large bunch of people upstairs claiming he’s really famous.”

Someone just knock me out. Now. What the hell?

“Honestly, we’re a bit confused as to what’s going on.”

You and me both, bud.

“So if you could possibly come down and talk some sense into this guy and remove him…”

I felt like laughing, pointing out that he was security and I was going back to sleep. But then I woke up.

Gray.

What the fuck, man?

“McDonald’s on the Rye,” I repeated. “And he’s locked himself in the downstairs loo?”

“We’re a little understaffed, overwhelmed, and honestly I think if someone could just come down and talk some sense into this guy, then we can all get on with our evening.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, finally managing to get my neurons to compute. “Tell him Reuben is on his way. I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops. Reuben Schiller. Can you just stay with him, yeah?”

“Reuben Schiller,” he said. Like the name rang a bell. Yeah, right. Probably did. But that was years ago.

“Ten minutes,” I said sternly. “Don’t let him leave, and make sure he’s okay? Please?”

Well, there we were. I got up, stepped into my clothes and put the light on in the hallway, which, of course, meant Dad got up, ready to grab the frying pan off the stove and take out any potential intruders.

“What?” he barked. Yes. We all knew the drill. Things happened around here. Didn’t matter what time of night.

Eleven fifteen for the record.

For fuck’s sake, Gray.

“Gray’s in McDonald’s down on the Rye. I need to go get him.”

Dad, being Dad, didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Suppose I’m driving, am I?”

It would probably be faster for me to run, but I wasn’t going to turn down his offer of a ride.

Anyway, Dad already had his coat on and car keys in his hand as I pulled on a hoodie.

“On the Rye? How the hell did he end up here? His driver usually drops him by the door.”

Usuallybeing the key word. This had got completely out of hand. South London on a weeknight. In bloody McDonald’s.

Dad drove and dropped me outside, and immediately, I could see the problem. A bloody mass of kids hanging around with their phones, word having spread fast.

“The fuck?” I said that out loud, trying to wedge myself through the door. There were people everywhere. Excited chatter. I knew this branch; one of our neighbour’s kids worked here. Loos were downstairs, and there was a poor security guy blocking the staircase like some kind of VIP was relieving himself downstairs. I waded through the crowd towards him. Honestly, it was like being in some incredibly fucked-up music video. Girls everywhere. And me.

Think, Reuben.

If I actually made it downstairs, I wouldn’t be able to handle getting Gray up here and back to the car on my own.

The car.

Dad was outside.

Yes!

“Reuben! Dude!”

My neighbour’s son grinned at me.

“Did you hear? We have that Dieter downstairs. From Blitz? He’s locked himself in the loos. It’s, like, crazy, man! And people are posting it all over Snap. Check out TikTok, man!”

“It’s not The Dieter, you absolute idiot. It’s my mate. He’s just an ordinary guy, looks a bit like him, I’ll admit, but come on. He’s bloody terrified.”

“Man, I saw his face. It’s definitely him.”

Fuck this guy.

“Kairo.” He had a stupid name, right there on his name badge. This was all bloody stupid. “Where’s the staff entrance?”

“Up here.”

“Okay.” I rubbed my forehead trying to come up with a plan. Not easy with the crowd screaming. Some other security guy peered helplessly over the banister. Come on, Reubs, think! We dealt with things like this at the Clouds all the time. Got people in and out. But that was at a big hotel with lots of staff. This was the shittiest McDonald’s in London. Small. Smelly. Crowded.

Also…I was barred from this particular McDonald’s. There was probably still an old photo of me next to the tills. Not that I blamed them. This had been my usual place to cause trouble. I’d been dealing in the toilets downstairs. Smoked. Caused a fight…or two.

“I’m Reuben. The security guy downstairs called me,” I said to the guard on the stairs who almost managed to hide this sigh of relief. And I almost broke my neck running down the stairs. I shook hands with this Khan, who also looked familiar.

“We’ve met before,” he said, bristling for trouble.

“In a different lifetime,” I countered. I wasn’t having this. “The guy in the loo?”

He motioned to the door and handed me Gray’s phone. “He was shaking so much he couldn’t even make the call. Then he locked himself in there and refused to come out.”

Seriously. People these days had no clue. I stared at the stall door for a second. Then, with a swift twist of the handle, revealed the emergency latch and kicked the door open.

And there he was, curled into a ball on the toilet seat, looking like…

Oh shit.

“Come,” I said softly, dragging him into my arms. “What the fuck have you done?”

He was shaking all over, and I didn’t blame him. What the hell was going on?

“I have a car outside. Lead the way,” I told Khan. Where was his mate? There were two of them, and they needed to work together. Fast. Fuck this. Fuck this!

I almost had to carry Gray upstairs, dragging him past the security guard while the crowd went mad.

Well, until that Kairo did his thing and ploughed through the crowd while his mate shouted for them to back off. Camera flashes everywhere. More people surged forward. The guards blocked them, and I was grateful. This was not how normal, decent people behaved. Somehow, this Kairo and his colleague managed to contain them long enough for me to get Gray into the backseat of the car, and the second the door was closed, Dad sped off like some getaway driver from those movies. No seat belts. No more bloody camera flashes. I looked out the rear window and shuddered. This was insane.

“Sorry,” he muttered into my neck.

“Shush.” I wasn’t ready to talk. My heart was still beating like crazy, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he’d been trying to achieve with that little stunt. He’d put me in a shitty situation, and Dad, who was not happy.

I was a hundred per cent not happy.

“I’m working tomorrow,” I told him curtly as we pulled up outside the house. “Dad’s pulling a double. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, awkwardly getting out of the car. The road was quiet. Well, I doubted any of those kids had followed us, not with my dad’s insane driving. And then I had to laugh, because my dad looked ridiculous in his coat, pyjama pants that were far too short for him and slippers. He opened the front door, ruffling Gray’s hair as we all went inside. Gray dumped his rucksack on the sofa; Dad flicked the kettle on.

“Do I need any details?” he asked.

Gray slumped on a chair, suddenly engrossed with the tabletop.

“Okay,” Dad said quietly. “I think we need to set some rules here, young man.”

“Sorry,” Gray said again. Like he was a child. Fucking hell.

“What happened?” I asked. I had a teacher once who’d helped me with getting the words out by rephrasing things. Small questions. Simple answers.

He shrugged. “Just wanted to get here.”

Okay. I sat down next to him. Dad made tea. Three cups. Milk. No sugar.

The calming sounds of spoon against ceramics. The soft rip of a packet of biscuits. The clock showed just after midnight.

“I fucked up.”

“You have a driver,” Dad said. “It’s probably a good idea to use them next time. Or just ring me. I’ll come get you. So will Reubs here, won’t you, Reubs?”

I nodded, because yes, I would. Anything not to get mobbed in bloody McDonald’s again. That had been seriously scary. All those people. Camera flashes. A mob of insanity. Fuelled by bloody rumours and stupidity.

“Sometimes I like being normal. Like, getting the bus. Riding the Tube. I got all the way to Peckham, but there was a bunch of girls on the train, moving closer and closer. I changed carriages, but they followed me. So I got off and got back on the same train further down. They found me again.” He had to stop and breathe. Took a sip of his tea. Scratched his head. He needed a haircut.

“Then there were more of them at the station when I got off, like they’d called all their friends or something, and I made a run for it, but I didn’t know where I was going. I was trying to Google map my way here, and suddenly they were all around me asking for selfies and taking pictures and…”

“Frightening. We’ve seen it before, Graham, but you’re safe now.”

Dad was good at this. He pushed the packet of biscuits Gray’s way. I’d already had three, but I took another one, dunked it vigorously in my tea and shoved it in my mouth, crumbs everywhere. Adrenaline comedown, probably.

“Well, I ducked into McDonald’s and then got trapped down in the loos. And I dropped my phone and the screen cracked, and I was shaking so much I couldn’t even make a phone call. Not very clever, I know. But I know Reuben’s number. I memorised it. Just in case. And then the security guy showed up and I was having a panic in the loos. I slid him my phone and told him to call you. I mean, where was I supposed to go?”

“You were supposed to do just that,” I told him calmly. Bloody Gray and bloody everything. “I’m glad you did.”

He picked up a biscuit. Then put it down again.

“I need a shower. That cubicle was filthy, and my hands feel all grubby.”

“I used to smoke in those loos. Those security guys raided us all the time. When I was like, fifteen? Sixteen? Peckham in the winter. A bit of a smoke and a nine-pack of nuggets. In the loos.”

My dad shook his head. Gray grinned.

“He was a bit of a mess, our Reuben.” My dad drained his cup. “And on that note, I’m going back to bed.”

“Thanks, Stewart. And…I’m sorry. I just…you know?” He did look sorry. A sorry state, in fact, his hair matted from his beanie and streaks down his cheeks. Still, he was Gray. All sharp angles and lashes. Messy, messy boy.

“You should have called me,” I said as soon as Dad closed his bedroom door. “On the train. Before you got on the train, even, because that was fucking dangerous, G. Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

He said nothing.

“Shower,” I agreed. “You stink.”

I pushed him into the bathroom and then went looking for clothes. Found a pair of not too skanky sleep shorts and a T-shirt with a Ronald McDonald print. Thought it was apt.

His laughter when I handed it to him through the door was…fun. I liked that we laughed. That he got me, in all my stupid ways. So my hoodie came off and I got back into bed, holding my duvet up for a freshly showered Gray to crawl in next to me, him against the radiator under the window, me on the edge towards the door. Like…always.

It was weird even thinking that. Everything was weird.

He’d washed his hair, and the damp strands fanned out everywhere, making my shoulder wet. I reached for the light.

Darkness. Soft breathing. Him wriggling like he just couldn’t settle. I didn’t blame him.

“Here,” I said, raising my arm. He put his head on my chest, and I curled around him, held him. The curve of his forehead somehow followed the contour of my chin. Amazing how we just fitted together like this. He still was a bloody reckless idiot, though.

“Next time,” I said crossly, giving him a little squeeze. “You call. Or you get that driver of yours to take you. You don’t go off on your own. I get that normal people do that, but you’re not normal, G. You’re not. Get that into that thick head of yours.”

Calling him thick was perhaps not nice, but he needed to hear it.

“’M’kay,” he said softly.

“Tomorrow, I’m working…well, in a couple of hours. So sort yourself out. Call your driver and get him to take you wherever. But let me know where you’re at and what you’re planning.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I could feel him grinning and the rhythmic thump of his heart.

Then he was quiet. His arm over my stomach. His leg coming to a rest against mine.

“G.” I sighed. Because what was this? Seriously?

“I saw a house today. A family home in, like, Marylebone or somewhere. Stupid money expensive, but it had a veranda with a barbecue.”

“You can build a veranda. Anywhere. And buy a barbecue in BQ.”

He laughed. Good.

“Yeah, but this one…it was nice. I stood in the bedroom, and I could kind of…I could see myself there. My things scattered around the room, and then I…”

“What?”

“I imagined living there. With you.”

“Gray!” I warned. “Stop it.”

“I mean it. There was this nanny flat downstairs. Self-contained. You could have your own place. Renting. With me.”

“Could never afford it.” Truth. Gray was living in a dream world. I had to survive on minimum wage and tips. Okay, I got a shitload of tips. Still didn’t mean I could afford to live in Marylebone or wherever.

“Well. Since you don’t believe a word I’m saying anyway, I actually wanted to say, you could live there with me. And sleep in our bed. We could have kids. And dogs. And like…have a family.”

I laughed. He must have hit his head in that cubicle. Hard.

“My dad lives here.”

“Yes, he does.” He wriggled again. Let his leg fall over mine. “But your dad could have the nanny flat, have his own place. There’s…you know. Parking.”

“Parking, eh? Gosh!” I laughed sarcastically, but it was funny. “You’re deluded,” I said.

“I know.” He tapped my nose with his finger. “But it’s a nice dream. I’m allowed to dream, aren’t I?”

“I suppose.” I smiled. “As long as you stay away from public transport and keep yourself safe. For me. I can’t be rescuing you from fast food places all the time. Leave the food gathering to me. You can do all the swanning around being a pop star thing, and I’ll deal with the rest. Life. Food. A bed to sleep in.”

He held me. Like I held him.

“I liked that house. I liked how it made me feel.”

“Good,” I said, my lips in his hair.

Iliked how he made me feel. I couldn’t explain it, but he’d scared the shit out of me today, and I was glad he was here with me. Safe.

Fuck him. And all his stupid ideas.