Rapture

Happiness came in many forms, but the thing I liked the most right now was that Reuben was driving, his eyes focused on the road while I expelled all the verbal diarrhoea I’d kept in, having spent the last two weeks with only my parents’ shitty curtains listening to my woes.

My parents. They’d tried, bless them. I could almost hear Dr Williams’ thoughts as he’d sighed and scribbled on his iPad. He was too old to understand me and my stupid head, but he’d agreed there was no need for PrEP, even if he had still advised that we both get tested.

He’d also given me a prescription for mild anxiety meds that he said would help me wind down and think a little more clearly so I could “grab all my troubles by the horns.” His words. He was no therapist, that was for sure. Neither was my mother, but I was following their logic. And as long as I had Reuben…

Reuben. I had to stop talking for a second so I could take him in.

“Stop staring at me, you wanker.” He laughed, indicating and swerving into the outside lane, overtaking a lorry as I clung to my seat belt. He was a careful driver, but I wasn’t used to motorways. I wasn’t used to sitting in the front seat. I wasn’t used to…this.

“We should do this, a few times a year. Drive up and see your parents.”

“Yeah,” I said, full of guilt. “I haven’t been very good at it.”

“That’s okay.” He smiled, glancing at me. “We could maybe stay in a hotel.”

“There’s a Travelodge at the services, otherwise we’d be looking at an Airbnb or something.”

“Could work.”

“Or we could buy a blow-up mattress.” I giggled. “That actually sounds rather rude. Could make a great song title.”

“You and your lyrics.” He reached over and tapped my knee.

“Hands on the wheel, Driver!” I sounded like my mum. I was half worried I was turning into her.

“Shut up. Talk to me about song lyrics.”

“Can’t do both,” I pointed out.

“G.”

“I wrote one called ‘Arrested in Las Vegas’.”

“Have you ever been arrested in Las Vegas?” He was so bloody cute when he smiled.

“Nah. But it’s about a couple going to Vegas, and then she leaves him alone in a hotel room, so he smashes it up thinking she’s left him, when in reality she just went to get herself a nice dress. The chorus goes like this. My future out the window, watch it hit the dust. Specs of grey to hide the sunshine, the light fading from my life. I lie to myself, thinking I can handle it. Let her out of my head and out of my heart, yet she’s absolutely everywhere. Everywhere I turn, her scent still lingers. The sweetness of her breath. The taste of her skin. My head is off the rails, and I’ll get myself arrested in Vegas, so pull that lever one more time.”

“Okay?” He changed lanes again.

“You’re really not impressed, are you?” I didn’t mind. He was just who he was.

“I’d listen to it. I don’t dance. Can’t wiggle my hips like you do.”

“It’s just choreography. They tell us how to move. Where to stand. We have colour-coordinated tape all over the place. Marks on the ground. Our mics are taped up so we know which one is ours. It’s not that complicated.”

“Don’t put yourself down. I know it’s all choreographed, but that’s not what’s important,” he said, and then he grimaced. “What do I know? Nothing, really, but I’ve seen you live. Twice, actually.”

“Yeah, I told Lauren to make sure you got tickets. I was hoping you used them.”

“’Course I did.” He laughed. “Would I miss seeing Blitz?”

“You hate our songs,” I teased him.

“‘Torrential’ is actually a good song. I like the beat.”

“Yeah?”

“You have a great voice. Sometimes when you sing, it’s…mesmerising. And I like how you are on stage. You’re always talking to people in the audience, making daft jokes.”

“They give me jokes to tell. I have an earpiece. They even tell me who I should speak to in the audience, like, ‘Boy in pink top holding a placard saying Suck my dick, Dieter.’ I’m supposed to turn things like that into a joke. Tell them off for being naughty. Pretend to give them my room key or something, just to make people laugh. It’s not always fun. Sometimes I enjoy it. Sometimes I just want to scream at everyone to shut the fuck up so I can hear myself think. That’s mostly when I haven’t been jammed full of anti-anxiety meds and stuff like that. Makes me mellow and chill. Also improves my vocal range, according to… Shit. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Then don’t. Talk to me about the house. Furniture. Something mundane.”

“Bookshelves?”

He laughed. Shook his head.

“We should try reading. I could order us some books. Thrillers or something. Just add the entire top one hundred on the bestselling list to the cart and check it out.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” he muttered. “I prefer watching TV. Nature programmes. Documentaries. Dad loves true crime.”

“Yeah. TV is good. I tend to watch things on my laptop. Shit. I had to give it back. It’s with the law firm, I think. Turns out it was full of spyware. I was going to order a new one, but I forgot. I used to watch cooking channels a lot. I’d like to learn to cook. Make meals, proper tasty things.”

“I make great bacon sandwiches.”

“Yeah, you do.”

The indicator was going again, and the car pulled up the ramp towards the services. Massive signage promised hot drinks and fast food and set my nerves jangling.

“You need the loo?” I asked. I hoped we could just stop quickly. Get back to safety. I hoped he was taking me back to his bed. Home.

“Nah. We’re gonna get a coffee, sit in.”

“Mum packed tea.”

“Which is lovely, but I never get to do this—go to a big services for a nice coffee. It’s the little things, Gray. Let me have my fun.”

“Fun,” I muttered.

“Fun,” he insisted, unfastening my seat belt. “Come on. Indulge me.”

“I can’t go in there. It’ll be…you know. Me in fast food places?”

“Gray,” he said, kindly but sternly. “No. It will not be the same. Nobody here gives a fuck about anything other than getting in the loo and grabbing an overpriced chocolate bar. I like an overpriced chocolate bar. You do too.”

“Yeah.” My stomach hurt.

“Here.” He leaned behind me to pick something up. Next thing, he was pushing a dusty old cap onto my head. I ripped it off.

“That’s not going to help.” I was being rude. Obnoxious. But I didn’t like this.

“I got it free from last year’s London Beauty awards at the hotel. I’ve never worn it.”

“No wonder. It says Beauty Queen on it.”

“Okay then.” He rummaged around in the footwell. “Old beanie.”

He shoved that on my head instead. Better, I supposed.

“I’ll hold your hand,” he said. “We’ll go pee. I’ll even drag you into my cubicle and snog your face.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Reuben who isn’t gay?” I grinned. He did that. Made me feel better.

“Reuben is still not gay. Doesn’t matter, though, because you’re gay enough for both of us. And I don’t care. I’m with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said and sat there as he got out and walked around the car. I’d known I was a mess, but I hadn’t realised how much of a mess I’d become.

“I used to love being on stage,” I nattered on as he dragged me out of the car, locked the door, grabbed my hand, pulled me along. “I don’t love it now, though. Now it scares the living daylights out of me. If someone put a gun to my head and said I had to play a stadium tour or die?”

“That’s not going to happen, Gray. You’ve done your bit. Time for new things now—isn’t that right? You’ve got your acting now. No need to play any stadiums, ever again.”

“Not always that easy. Well. I don’t understand our contracts. I think we had a year and a half left, but then they changed everything and what do I know? I’m just the pretty face with the voice. Turns out the voice wasn’t even needed, since they’ve recorded a whole album with underpaid session singers and post-production-filtered AI that sounds exactly like me. Freakily so.”

“But that’s not coming out, is it? That’s why you’re suing them.”

I had no idea. I truly didn’t understand it all.

“I’m just…a stupid muppet.”

“You’re so much more than that,” he whispered. “And shut up.”

He made me smile, and I took his advice and shut up, keeping my eyes on my feet as he led me along to the stinky loos, then made me stand in the queue with him while he ordered us coffee and muffins. Worse, he insisted that I pick out chocolate bars in the newsagent’s and made me pay for them, tapping my card against the reader like a normal person.

I didn’t feel like a normal person. At all.

The relief when we got back on the motorway was immense. Every muscle in my body hurt. I recognised it because I was always like this. This wasn’t normal. But it was my normal.

“See?” he said softly. “We can do this. And I kind of know what it’s like. When I was really young and stupid…” He shoved an entire muffin in his mouth. Zero finesse.

“Young and stupid?” I snorted. Because yeah. We’d both been there.

He swallowed, slurped at his coffee. “I made some enemies. I got hold of some weed and then sold it on, and yes, it wasn’t clever, selling cut-price weed on someone else’s turf. This guy came after me and pulled a knife on me. More than once. I kept running into him, and every time he’d go for me. Then he turned up at home and threatened my dad. I was terrified. Didn’t even want to leave the house, but I had to eventually. So I kept my head clear and made sure I had my wits about me.”

“Scary,” I said.

“Yeah. Funny thing is, I never saw him again. No idea what became of him, but my dad kept saying it didn’t matter. What mattered was what became of me. We can’t let fear rule our lives.”

“Fear.”

“Yes, fear, Gray. You can’t spend the rest of your life being frightened. I know this stalker dude did a number on you, but—”

“It’s not him I’m scared of,” I admitted. “He wasn’t that scary. Or maybe he was. He was just lonely, like me, and I kind of…you know. Took it too far. Invited him in. Thought we were friends. We weren’t, but instead of telling him that, I got my security to deal with him, so I get why he kicked off at me. I was being a dick.”

“Doesn’t mean he can break into your house.”

“No. I know. He got a suspended jail sentence, and there’s a restraining order in place.”

“Good.”

“That’s what scares me, though. The way I treated him. Because of me, he’s got a criminal record, when I probably could have just sat down and talked to him, sorted it all out.”

“You sometimes are a bit of a dick, Gray. We all are,” he said, no judgement. “Hey, I realised something today.”

“What?”

“You and me, we’re really alike. I think that’s why we get on so well. We need the same things. We’re scared of the same things, and we…just want a place to call home. And we can both be dicks.”

I laughed.

“I’m…really sorry I threw you out, all those times. I should have just sat you down and talked to you too.”

“We’re both twats. And you know what Reubs? We’re allowed to be twats sometimes, because sometimes it just becomes too much and we panic. It’s just the way we are.”

“I’m going to try harder. Be more chill about all this. Figure things out.”

“Me too. I promise.”

He kept smiling. Shoving muffin crumbs into his mouth.

“I know what you’re going to say, and no, you can’t turn that into a song lyric.”

“I can,” I insisted. “Just watch me.”

We drove, and I stopped talking for a while, letting the silence fill the car. I liked it. I liked that I was comfortable. That he was smiling softly as London spread out in front of us. Houses and buildings and traffic. Red buses instead of lorries. People everywhere, despite it being late. I didn’t even know what day it was. I wasn’t sure I cared.

I’d expected him to take us back to his and his dad’s place and only realised he wasn’t doing that when he turned into the narrow alleyway that led to the house I’d bought.

A place I hadn’t quite reconciled seeing again.

“I assume you have some sort of key or code?” he said, gesturing at the gates in front of the car.

“It’s got automatic numberplate recognition.” I hoped. I think that was Agnes had told me. I hadn’t taken it in, made it my responsibility to know.

The gates sprang to life, and in we went, him driving carefully, me holding my breath. I didn’t know why. Well, I did.

“Please don’t leave me here,” I whispered. I couldn’t deal. Not today.

He cut the engine and turned to me.

“Gray.”

He sat there. Like he was waiting for me to do something.

“Gray, we’re home. Key?”

“In my rucksack. The code for the alarm is on the key fob.”

He grabbed the bag, rummaged around.

“Found it. I’ll go open up.”

I sat there like a fool, watching him run up the stairs, unlock the door, switch off the alarm. He disappeared inside. A light came on in the hallway.

Somehow, I managed to get the car door open and got myself out. Made my feet move up the stairs.

“Do I need to carry you over the threshold or something?” he asked, reappearing right in front of me.

It was like something suddenly sank in, the calm washing over me.

I laughed.

“I’m going to write a load of really shitty lyrics about you for that.”

He was laughing too.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“I do,” I said.

Then he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and carried me inside.