Throughout the rest of that evening, Aaron had received a few texts from Adam, a couple from Paddy, and even one from Hazel – she still found the day even more difficult than he did, of course – but nothing from Robert. Aaron had assumed that – Jackson's birthday over – things would resume as before. But thinking about his dead boyfriend had really made him reconsider. Now, the next morning, he'd had enough time to run over everything in his mind for hours and hours.

It was all pointless. Whether or not he was in love with Robert, Robert could never love him. Robert was engaged; he was going to be married in a matter of weeks. Until yesterday, Aaron had thought himself happy to carry on sleeping with Robert behind Chrissie's back – in barns, outhouses, hotels, or wherever they could manage. But that wasn't ok. Quite apart from the dishonesty of the situation, what sort of future was that? Loving a man who used him for a cheap thrill every now and then. Yes, it was exhilaratingly sexy, but it wasn't enough. That wasn't what Jackson would want for him, if he could see Aaron now.

But maybe, thought Aaron, his hand slowly moving, unconsciously, towards the scars on his torso – maybe that was all he deserved. The logic went around his head, torturing itself in tangles until it made a twisted sense. He was willing to break up a home, so he deserved to feel unloved. He wasn't worth the wholehearted love of a man like Robert; any man. A fixed look came into Aaron's eyes. He decided not to go to the garage; instead he got into his car and started driving.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Aaron strode into the office without knocking. Robert was sat at the desk, intently typing, and looked up in surprise. He was wearing a suit jacket with dark trousers, looking every inch the businessman. Only the dark circles under his eyes gave any indication of how long he had lain awake.

"Aaron. I didn't expect to see you."

"Is anybody else here?"

"Are you ok? You don't look very well."

"I said – is anybody else here?"

"No. Nicola's still off work, Chrissie's taken Lachlan into town, and Lawrence – "

But Aaron didn't care about the finer details. Determinedly keeping his face emotionless, he nodded towards the stairs, then followed the direction of the gesture. He ran up a couple of the steps.

"C'mon! Upstairs – now."

Robert looked uncertain. Goodness knows he hadn't needed much encouragement before, but this time he hesitated. He was obviously trying to read the tone of the situation. Aaron didn't know, of course, that Robert had overheard everything that had been said in the graveyard. He couldn't tell what thoughts were going through Robert's mind; he only knew that he had to persuade Robert upstairs before too many thoughts filled his, Aaron's, head. Momentum was key here.

Robert was still hesitant, but couldn't resist the lure of sex with this eager, extremely attractive man. Talking could come later; perhaps he was overthinking things. Aaron was here, after all. He ran after Aaron, catching up with him before they'd reached the landing.

"No, not there. That's – that's… Let's go to one of the spare bedrooms."

Robert pulled Aaron by the wrist, away from his and Chrissie's room, down the corridor and through a different door. The room looked out over the front drive, and had a few odds and ends of furniture that didn't match and had clearly been rejected from the other bedrooms. Coats were piled on a chair; boxes were piled in a corner. Thankfully there were no photos in the room; Aaron didn't feel he could go ahead with any pictures of Chrissie beaming out at them, particularly if they showed her with Robert. There was a bed; that was the important thing.

Aaron grabbed the lapels of Robert's jacket, and pulled him in close, kissing his lips with an urgency that was almost alarming. Robert's hands quickly found their place on Aaron's hips, and he returned the kiss eagerly – but didn't go any further. Usually, in these hasty and passionate trysts, it was only a moment or two before Robert started undoing Aaron's belt, or removing his own jacket. Aaron even bucked his hips forward, keen to move quickly, but instead Robert pulled back. His expressive eyes – which could be so dismissive, so apologetic, so kind; which showed exactly the emotion he was feeling or intending to convey – were fixed on Aaron's. Aaron, in turn, was focusing on not crying in front of Robert. Instead, he made his voice almost angry.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" Then, more anxiously: "Did you hear something? Someone?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just… Aaron, do you want to talk?"

Talk! This was new. Usually Aaron would crave this sort of moment, but not today.

"No, I don't want to talk. Just f—k me. That's what we're here for."

Robert was visibly taken aback by Aaron's abrupt language.

"C'mon. F—k me, while the missus is away. We've got about ten minutes before you need to chuck me out, haven't we?"

"Why are you being like this?"

"Oh, sorry. Do you want to throw money at me? Do you want me to f—cking dance, or something? Is that what you usually get prostitutes to do?"

"What are you talking about, mate?" Robert's hands were on his own hips now, his mouth ajar. His hair was tousled from energetic kissing, but he couldn't have looked less ready to have sex. He just looked shocked. He looked still more shocked when Aaron raised his voice:

"You don't care how I feel about y-… how I feel. You've thrown ten grand around just to f—k me, mate. I should feel flattered. I'll be your dirty little secret, and you get to feel like you're helping out the poor ex-con up the road. And then you end up as lord of the manor, you'll bin me, and I'll be all set up dragging scrap around or driving taxis or whatever it ends up being. If I complain, throw more money at me. What won't Aaron do for a bit of brass?"

Aaron pulled his jumper off and threw it on the floor. He did the same with his shirt, and then his belt. He flung his arms out sideways.

"COME ON!"

But he couldn't even get through those two words without breaking down. He swore, but kept crying. It was all a bit of a blur for a minute or two. Robert was shhhing him, looking alarmed and concerned; he sat down on the bed, and Robert did too. His crying pounded through the throbbing in his head, all his energy going into angry weeping, forgetting for a moment that Robert was even there, until the air began to clear again. The pain and thudding subsided. Aaron felt suddenly extremely foolish. And then he realised what Robert was doing. He was tracing his fingers along the scars on Aaron's chest. There was nothing sexual about this contact at all; it was incredibly intimate. Aaron froze.

"Sshh. Aaron, it's ok, it's ok." Robert realised that Aaron was quiet again, and looked up into his face. "Where did all that come from? Do you really think that's how I think of you?"

Aaron shook his head, but more to signify that he wasn't ready to speak than any actual denial. Robert kept staring into his eyes, breaking down his defences.

"I've been meaning to apologise. I said something unforgivable about your… about your scars. I was – I was really nervous to be in the gay bar, to be honest. I still don't think you should have taken me there. But, still, I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry."

Aaron looked away, still unable to speak. He wished he hadn't taken off his shirt – he'd even kept it during sex since Robert had mentioned the scars – but it would have felt too decisive an action to put it back on right now.

"Will you tell me about them?"

Aaron stayed silent, facing the other way. Robert took off his jacket and put it around Aaron's shoulders.

"Will you tell me about Jackson?"