So they had an argument. It was no excuse to run off and fake, not even remotely convincingly, a call for a job. He could have said something like, Oh, he almost forgot, but a call came while Douglas was in the toilet or something. However to fish a phone out of pocket while it obviously wasn't ringing! Douglas should be insulted. Yet he was worried. Martin had been really pissed off. The argument was nothing! It was a silly thing. Just a silly thing…
Still a storm had risen and Douglas could do nothing but wait to sort it out. The seconds were ticking at the clock and Douglas had ants travelling under his skin by the neck. Worry was rising in his stomach, not only of Martin, because really he was a grown man he could take care of himself despite being the master of being teased, but for something else too he never could really escape. Something he couldn't let him dwell on or he wouldn't get up in the mornings. The idle thought that still managed to sneak in. "What if it is me?" Born years ago. Reborn in each ending relationship he had.
However he had been so sure about this one. This time he hadn't even worked his Douglas Richardson charm directly at him. It hadn't been instant interest in Douglas's part. He hadn't let himself. Not even after the divorce or during the annoyingly long and romantic sunset on the flight over the Russia. Even if it had made Martin's face glow, hair sparkle and eyes twinkle with excitement. Not forgetting the hat. How could anyone any time possibly forget about the hat? At that moment he had thought it rather suited Martin. In a very un-suiting way. It fit him because of what a play against all the odds in the world Martin had to deal with. Constantly. Yet a captain he had made of himself, over Douglas. The all lucky and cunning Douglas.
Maybe it was him? What if Helena had started cheating because Douglas had tried to live the lie of being a captain and the lie had taken him away from her… -Nawh! He was Douglas he could handle a lie and love at the same time. Still why was it that relationships that would be for the rest of their lives turned out to be the one thing that Douglas tried to do but realised he couldn't. The one thing he was bad at.
Nevertheless it was Martin. He had patched enough teasing of him to know how to read him like a sign board. This time the sign had read, hidden behind not so clever ruse of dinner and breakfast and dishes, FEELING NOT WANTED OR LOVED. How could have Douglas failed so?
While waiting for a chance to fix it Douglas took up a book he had been meaning to read. Hoping it would occupy him enough while the evening darkened further still.
Martin was found in a ditch in the morning. Just around the corner. A neighbour knocked and rang on the door and asked if it was his. "Have you lost your ginger man?"
In the unforgiving hours of the morning of five and the threadbare outfit of the hermit and oldest neighbour in the hood, being forcibly woken by the person and asked about biscuits?! Douglas gave out a murderous look and was about to slam the door shut.
"I am just wondering as I found one in the ditch and he looked like yours."
"Say what?"
"What?"
Douglas's annoyance had faded, but now quickly came back. He took his jacket of the hanger put it over his dressing gown and quickly stepped into some shoes.
"Just show me."