The niggling ache behind his eyes has proved stubborn foe and reminding himself for about the third time this month that he's no longer as young as he used to be, that it really was time to be a little more responsible with his drink, he'd asked Mel if he might beg a coffee.
His new...acquaintance...had responded with laughter a cheeky demand that he brew an entire pot while he was there and then shooed him out in the direction of the kitchen.
He can still feel the ache in his cheeks from the smile that'd prompted, the warm bubble of content he got always from being in good company and the background note of crazy that was the understanding that they'd known one another barely 24 hours.
Maybe fate was catching him a break yet again and he 'd...the unmistakable melody of his phone breaks the thought and, habitually, his hand goes to his pocket.
It's empty and mentally face palming himself he leans enough out of the kitchen so that he knows Mel can hear him yelling, "answer that will you?"
A long moment punctuated the sound of the kettle bubbling away to itself and Mel's voice, muffled for the wall between them, growing steadily closer and then the phones being thrust into his hand with a firm, "Make sure he gets that I'm not some crazed loon k?" before he's again by himself.
"Hello?" "God, Ian , do you know how worried I've been?" There's a note in Anthony's voice he knows a little too well, a wild tremor that tells he's literally the smallest push away from an attack and it has him smiling.
He knows how Anthony feels about his condition, knows how hard he clings to his control and how much the other needs to be pushed to get even to the point of attack let alone such a desperate point as to show he's as such and how wrong it is to take pleasure in knowing his safety almost instant trigger to get his friend in such a state.
Yet still the smile lingers, the unrelenting press of it there at his cheek mussels as undeniable sign of how strong the bind of his desire is and as hard message that there is to be no cutting free.
It has him sober enough to be able to apologise for his actions without sounding insincere and, once he has gained his friends grudging acceptance he takes care to go through the expected motions.
Assures the other well without ever asking as such, tells him as much the previous night as he recalls before passing on Mel's foolish account of the rest of the evening and chats a little business before organising a slap dash movie night.
Silence.
He feels a man on a precipice, so very certain that one step forward will mean falling and one back becoming someone other than himself.
An imposter in his own skin.
"You love him." Not kindness but apology and indeed that self same expression is there in her face as he pulls him to her, as she tells him with the strength of her arms and the warmth of her body what words shall only make ugly.
That he is not alone in this no matter how it feels.
They'd drunk coffee in silence for a while after that and then she'd told him her story, of how she had spent her life following in the steps of the man she loved, moving far away from her home, her friends and even the girl she had been all for his sake only to see him marry someone else.
"The only thing I could think as she showed me the ring was how different they were, of how the very moment they were alone together they'd pull each other apart and for all that I knew that thought so terribly ugly I could not stop it. Even now...god, even now I live in the ugly hope that he'll up and leave her for my sake."
A return her silent promise to support her always and then, without provocation, they'd both moved the conversation away onto safer, happier, ground.
They'd kept in regular contact in the weeks after, texting back and forth with such fevered frequency that Anthony had eventually cuffed him about the head and enquired, "Hey, Romeo, how about catching a guy a break from your slow ass typing and call her on the computer?"
He'd attempted, uselessly, to tell him he'd the wrong end of the stick, to give some voice the cancerous yearning there in his heart... his body...his soul and yet the words lodge hard in his throat.
He'd known, so well, what their consequence would be after all, that there would be no surprise confession or delayed acceptance at their utterance but rather only hard rejection and an irreconcilable shift the dynamic between them.
Thus he'd stumbled incoherent and, smiling bright and true, Anthony had stated, "Man you seriously have to introduce me to this chick if she's getting you this flustered this quickly!"
The smile is so perfect, pulling sharper definition his face and staining his cheeks the subtle rose of genuine joy and he's burning for the sight of it, craving more enough that, without thought, he's smiling in kind, telling him, "of course," with enthuse sincerity in hopes of gaining fix that yearning.
That'd been the start of it all, the elaborate fiction of love all for the sake of another smile to ease the ache a little longer, with Mel as his reluctant partner in crime.
Each demand a little more authenticity, a leaked photo of them somewhere together, a subtle of affection whenever Anthony was around and holidays to some exotic location 'alone', had strained and strained the solidity their friendship.
It little helps that, along the way, it's become as much about keeping himself occupied as it has fooling the man he loves so very completely.
That every time he thinks to tell Anthony that he and Mel have decided to call it a day, to let her go a little so that she might live her own life, his mind begins compiling a list of ways to edge Kalel out also.
Begins to fantasise that maybe, just maybe, once his friend has been broken just a little he might see their friendship with fresh eyes and...
So when, last week, Anthony had voiced concern at his being alone in the house with more frequency he'd almost instantly responded with,
"Actually I thought I'd see if Mel might come live up here...you know if you'd be cool with that."
For a moment there's shock written clear Anthony's face and when the smile does come it's the one he wears in their videos, rigid pretence without genuine heart behind it.
Hot feverish hope has him at that strange reaction and tongue wetting at his lips he makes deliberate eye contact, steps just a little closer.
A fake laugh and Anthony's opening that distance again, mumbling consent and congratulations over his shoulder along with some line about being behind on the editing.
He'd called Mel the request to follow his idiocy through, to move down for a few weeks to see what might come of it and she'd snapped at last.
Yelled and yelled before hanging up without so much as an explanation.
He'd known better than to phone back, to even take the smaller risk of texting what he'd known pathetic, insincere, apology and had simply waited.
Waited in hope that Mel might forgive him again, that she might somehow submit the utter foolishness of dragging the fiction so very far and that maybe, just maybe, Anthony might simply ask the question there in his eyes.
Face the matter head on so that he might, at last, bleed the truth from his veins and damn the consequences , rather than edge about it all as some unexploded land mine.
She sounds worn when she does eventually phone, impossibly older likely for the strain he'd been putting her through and it'd had an apology spilling from him before he can catch it.
"You almost sound like you mean it."
"I do...no, that's not quite true, I want to mean it, but..."
"You'd do it all again."
"Yes."
A gentle sound, part sigh, part self affirmation then,
"We can't keep going on like this Ian, at least not without tearing each other apart in the process."
"I know, but I can't just cut you out of my life either Mel...I mean Jesus aside from Anthony you're the closest friend I have."
"Same." There's a genuine smile in the words and it has a little the weight from his shoulders, has him buoyed enough to state,
"Let's start over."
"Ok, in which case I'll be back at 'our' hotel Monday for a conference, how about you come down for the evening and we'll have a proper chat?"
"I'd like that!"
"Good and Ian think about telling Anthony will you, I know you think nothing good will come out of it, but all lying will get you is pain and regret." The familiar raw note in her voice and, in recognition that honesty, he responds,
"I'll think about it."
A moment then she's laughing to ease the tension, having him promise to stay sober this time so he could actually enjoy the night before rounding the call off and leaving him his thoughts
Even now 'the right thing' is an elusive beast and he's still half tempted to carry the charade without Mel's aid, to begin lying to her as he's been lying to Anthony and yet...
"...all lying will get you is pain and regret."
The heal of his hands dig hard the hollow of his eyes and up his temple, massaging away the first tendrils of a head ache.
A soft knock on his door a brief moment later and then Anthony is silhouetted in the bright light of the hall,
"I think we need to talk, Ian."
