Michael was shocked by the sight that greeted him in the doorway. Christian looked diminished, haunted. A worry line was etched across his forehead and he seemed close to tears.
"Aw mate, you look awful…"
"Cheers.." Christian managed a wry grin. "You, infuriatingly, look fabulous. Did I drag you away from anywhere good?"
Michael handed his coat over.
"Sauna."
"Which one?"
"Covent Garden."
"That miserable fucker still in the charge of the lockers?"
"Oh yes.."
"He must be eighty by now, still got the dodgy syrup?"
Michael laughed.
"That's never a wig? So convincing.."
Christian gestured for him to sit down.
"Sorry, were you in the middle of someone good?"
"About to start. Don't worry though, body like a gladiator, voice like Joe Pasquale. I'd already got bored, and I hadn't even touched him. So, what's been going on?"
Christian lifted a bottle of wine and a glass, making a pouring motion. Michael put his thumb up and Christian brought over the drinks, sitting on the sofa beside him.
"Syed's disappeared…"
"Is his stuff still here?"
"Yes."
Noticing the flat tone of the response, Michael figured that Christian had been asked that question a lot recently.
"So, I don't get it. Did you have a row?"
Christian sighed and took a sip of wine.
"Yeah. One of many recently…"
"Really?" Michael couldn't hide his surprise.
"It's not all hearts and flowers you know, a lot of hearts and I did buy him flowers, but I keep messing up, pressurising him into doing things before he's ready.."
Michael raised his eyebrows and sniggered.
" Fuck off, not like that, oh I can see what he means now, that is a bit annoying.. Nah, he's so very, very complicated. Sometimes I forget what he's been through to get where he is, and I go forging ahead, without making sure if he's ready to come with me…"
"He loves you though?"
"I thought so, I know I love him. But where is he Michael? Why won't he get in touch?"
Michael surveyed their home whilst he thought. So much smaller than his own, yet so much better. The signs of their mutual lives, a photo of them outlined against the snow, notes pinned to a board, their shoes lined up by the door, a copy of Men's Health half covering a book of Islamic poetry.
"And his phone won't work?"
Christian ran his hands over his head in agitation.
"Keep getting some electronic whore.."
"And you last saw him yesterday evening?"
"Yep, flouncing through that door, all hair, and sexiness, and fury. Oh shit. What am I going to do? He's got the second part of an exam on Tuesday, people to massage all the rest of the week. I've got clients everyday…."
Michael patted Christian's arm.
"I can sort that out, I have a beautiful telephone manner."
"I bet you do, try not to turn it into a gay chat line.."
"Mr. Masood won't be able to give you your full body rub as promised, but I have taken my pants down and my cock is throbbing…"
The short laugh died quickly in Christian's throat.
"Stop it, I'm dying here. Should I ring the police? The hospital's?"
"I'm not any sort of expert, having learnt most of what I know from the late, lamented Bill, love a uniform, me, but don't you have to be missing for a while longer, if you're an adult? And the hospital's.. Would they tell you? I mean…"
A muscle in Christian's jaw twitched and his mouth set into a firm line.
"I would make them tell me…"
"I'm being a bit of a crap Robin to your Batman here, aren't I? You should try and rest, Christian, let me at least be on hand to answer the phone. Oh, I've had a thought.."
Christian twisted eagerly to face him, a faint glimmer of hope flickering to life in his tired eyes. It died quickly as Michael continued;
"Have you spoken to his Mum and Dad?"
Pacing about the room, fists clenched, Michael deduced that Christian wasn't in favour of the idea.
"They'll fucking put flags out, if they think he's left me. That's if they acknowledge his existence. According to them he's been dead for a while now, a ghost walking around the square under their very noses, tossers. I'd never get through the front door, I'd have a door knob shaped indentation on my nose the minute they clapped eyes on me. And even if they'd listen, It'd end up in a slanging match. Don't forget, I'm the devil incarnate, the rampaging homo predator, polluter of minds and, more importantly, bodies. They wouldn't tell me, if they knew, not in a million years, even if they've got him held prisoner in the back bedroom…"
Coming to an abrupt halt, Christian asked;
"You don't think?"
Michael stood and put a supportive arm around Christian's shoulder, forcing him to sit down.
"Now, that's as likely as Syed being abducted by aliens and taken to a distant star to have probes stuck in his ear, or elsewhere. I could go. They'll remember me, liked me. Neither of them has a clue that I'm gay, that I've spoken to the pair of you, found out what they did…."
"You don't know the half of it, Michael, believe me. That man left me lying bleeding on a pavement, let Syed's father in law beat me to a pulp without lifting a finger to help… And don't get me started on how they fucked up Syed's head.."
A shudder ran through his body and he fought back a sob.
"Noooo! Don't Christian, I'm rubbish at people crying, I'll start too and we'll end up wailing all night. Let me talk to them, see if they've got any ideas as to where he might be…." Michael patted Christian's head.
. "…Anyhow, I'm sure Zainab used to fancy me."