Chapter Five: Opinions

Gethin locked up hurriedly and returned to his guest.

'Mr Blake? Jonathan? He's gone.'

Jonathan was still clutching the briefcase to his chest, hugging it like a little child. His expressive eyes were closed, his head resting against the wall and he looked ten years older than he had twenty minutes ago. Gethin offered such comfort as he could find.

'You can talk to him later, maybe. He'll be calmer then, p'raps.'

'Will he? You don't know Luke...' The beautiful, sorrowing eyes opened. 'You really don't know Luke, do you? You don't know many people at all.'

'I wouldn't say that. Getting to know people. Takes time.'

'You know what's worst? That I... What was it? I look like a man – no, not just a man, a docker – in a frock?'

Gethin looked down to hide a smile, but he knew that was why Jonathan had said it, to lighten the mood.

'Well, last night, I thought, quite a picture, you were. Those long gloves were inspired, really elegant. Looked lovely. I think it's the shoes, prob'ly,' he said. 'My Aunty Dilys - she knew how to wear a shoe, she did. Little mid-heels like you got, make anyone look rough, it's just the way they make the muscles bunch up. No, you want flats, with your stature, you'd look fine. Or great high heels, does wonders for the legs, a high heel, Aunty Dilys used to say...'

Jonathan opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head.

'Have you any idea how hard it is to get any shoes in my size?' He sighed. 'No, probably not, right?'

'Right. How about, I run a bath for you, more coffee?'

'You're really very kind, aren't you? Perfect host.'

He set aside the precious briefcase to reach out and cup Gethin's face in his hands, pull him in for a closed-mouth kiss.

It was sweet and warm and friendly and after it Jonathan's eyes were a little less distraught.

'Thank you, Gethin Roberts.'

'Jonathan Blake, you're welcome.'

'A bath, you said? Coffee?'

'Tea, if you prefer.' Gethin picked up the strewn clothes, closed the case, and tucked it under his arm. 'Come back up to the flat.'

He led the way to the top floor, pushed open the door to the spare room and set down the case.

'You can put your things in here, Jonathan,' he said. 'I'll start that bath, get the kettle on.'

He found the Radox – eschewing the relaxing blue variety in favour of the invigorating one – and added a hefty portion under the taps, swishing it round to disperse the trails of orange-red liquid into the water. Having found a clean towel for on the hook, he went to make tea.

Presently, footsteps, and Jonathan was in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at him with a wary, almost shy look behind the pain in his eyes.

'Look, I'm sorry about all that... Just what you need, an argument outside your shop on a Sunday morning...'

Gethin shrugged.

'Not quite as bad for business as a Saturday night arrest would have been.'

'It's only that Luke's a bit...' Jonathan looked away, sighing. 'Young, I suppose. Twenty three, I thought it'd be fun to bring him out of his shell a little... created a monster, I think. Suddenly he's all demands and fidelity and... you know, I don't think he can even spell the word, but... my fault, perhaps. I don't generally go in for that sort of thing, free spirit, no ties, but he was just so... so terribly earnest, and eager, and... Vanity, I suppose, he made me feel as if I mattered...'

Jonathan trailed off, thinking for a moment before continuing with his rambling explanation.

'He's so young he doesn't really know what relationships are about yet, certainly not this kind of relationship... and I'm old enough to know better... I won't see 25 again, or thirty, for that matter...'

'Should you be telling me this?' Gethin asked, passing across a mug of tea.

'Who else can I tell? Anyway, you've said, you don't know many people. I reckon if my secrets are safe with anyone, it's with you.'

Just what he needed, to be a repository for gorgeous-even-in-last-night's-drag-Jonathan's secrets...

But the man was trying so hard to get past the hurt and the shame of Luke's venom, if it helped, surely he could listen, at least? And if it didn't work out for Luke and Jonathan, well, perhaps Jonathan would need a friend?

'It's true, Luke isn't the sort of person I socialise with.'

'Oh, I was on about my age, actually. I'll only ever admit to 29...'

Jonathan attempted a smile that trembled at the edges, and Gethin smiled back, but now he was thinking about Luke.

In fact, he'd never seen the lad before. And, true, the young face had been warped with fury, but the hair – he'd have remembered the hair... so it was a fair bet Luke hadn't been to any of the back room meetings... why arrange to meet Jonathan there?

He kept the thought to himself – not his business – and nodded in the direction of the stairs.

'Your bath should be run by now. There's a towel on the hook.'

Jonathan nodded and put down his mug, making his way to the staircase. At the doorway, he turned and raised expressive, hopeful eyebrows.

'Don't suppose you'd bring me another cup of tea, would you, there's a love?'

With that he headed back up the stairs, leaving Gethin staring, dumfounded, at the bloody cheek of the man.

And put the kettle on anyway.

And wondered if there was anything, anything this man would ask of him that he'd refuse.

And didn't really mind when he realised the answer to that was probably not.

The bathroom door was open, a little, but Gethin knocked on it anyway, vaguely glad the tap end was furthest from the door and so he didn't have to make full-on eye contact. Jonathon Blake, naked in his bath, just a few icebergs of bubbles and a bath rack between him and immodesty...

'Come in, it's your bathroom.'

'Brought you that tea,' Gethin said, setting it down on the corner of the bath and turning so he was looking at Jonathon's face, trying to ignore the power of his upper body, the strength in the contours of the muscles of his arms, the little tracks and runnels the bathwater had made down through the hair on his chest...

'Thank you.'

Jonathon's hair looked darker wet, slicked back off his face to show the curves of slight recession at his temples; it made him look serious, brought out the bones in his face, made Gethin more aware than ever of the appeal of his expressive face and rich, dark eyes. But the tragedy was back now, as if talking had held it at bay and being alone allowed all the hurt to bubble up again.

'I'll leave you to it.'

'No, stay,' Jonathon said abruptly, reaching to grasp Gethin's wrist with one wet hand. 'Just... Talk to me? About anything, just... I can't abide silence...'

'Okay.' Gethin lowered himself to sit cross-legged at the side of the bath, the lino cold and hard through his jeans. 'Read any good books lately?'

Jonathan smiled, shaking his head.

'No, I think we did that last night... Is there really an Aunty Dilys?'

'There is. Or was, not sure any more.'

'Oh, I see. No, I don't.'

'We lost touch. She lived in Abergele, small town in North Wales...'

'I know where Abergele is. That where you're from, then?'

Gethin shook his head.

'Rhyl, thereabouts.' He saw Jonathan's mouth begin to shape another question, and jumped in before he found himself called on to answer anything awkward. 'She was a real character, Aunty Dilys. Pub on Saturday, church on Sunday, bingo Friday.'

'The perfect life.'

'What about you, Jonathan,' Gethin asked, keen to get away from the topic. 'What do you do?'

'Acting. Small theatre groups, here and there. Tours, sometimes... I've not long got back, actually, from some almost respectable rep, but that's it for a while. I fill in with the occasion stand-up in drag, if I must. It's not like being a classical violinist, I'm not always in demand... unlike Ivan, for example. How do you know him?'

'Friend of a friend, that's all. And like I say, it's not anything, really. It's not serious.'

'I struggle to believe that. Look at you. Everything about you is serious. All that Celtic intensity. You have a really compelling gaze, did you know that?'

Gethin flushed, looking down and shaking his head.

'No, I mean it,' Jonathan said, reaching for his tea. 'Thanks again for this.'

He gulped at the mug, and Gethin guessed it was a cover to hide his emotions, as the anguish was back in the deep, rich eyes, and even if Jonathan was an actor, and pretending, portraying a role would be natural for him, this was no act, this was real pain on show here. Why, though? Surely he could do so much better than a Luke... was it love? Was it – not desperation, that sounded too much like Luke's rantings – some kind of anxiety, insecurity? Wasn't that one of the things they say about actors, that they're insecure, looking for approval everywhere?

'He can't have meant it,' Gethin blurted out suddenly. 'Half those things Luke was saying, he was shouting at himself. So young as he is, it'll be new to him, it's a lot of getting used to and you know not everyone embraces the lifestyle with open arms. Seen it myself, the ones at the meetings here. Start out scared, find someone who knows their way around, they sort of transfer everything onto them.'

Jonathan twisted round to properly look at Gethin, to hold his gaze.

'Hmm,' he said, hiding behind his mug of tea.

Gethin warmed to his subject.

'Then they have all this new information, ways of looking at things, and instead of being grateful, they blame the person who tried to help. That's what's happening with Luke, maybe.'

'So you think we can get through this?'

'If it's what you want.'

Jonathan sighed again.

'Yes, yes, it is. Because while Luke is insecure, possessive, not exactly blessed in the intellect department, if I don't sort this out I will forever be the villain here. And I am not. Besides which, he is, at least, pretty, when he isn't shouting, that is.'

Another retreat behind the mug of tea, almost a wince in the expressive eyes as Gethin shook his head.

'You could do so much better than pretty, you know.'

'Could I? Could I really?'

Jonathan set down the mug and leaned towards Gethin, one wet, foamy hand reaching for the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss. Bath water surged and splashed as he slid forward to reach, and Gethin scrambled onto his knees, unconsciously complicit. Jonathan's mouth was hot from the tea, and he tasted slightly of old beer and stale smoke; it should have been disgusting, but it wasn't, mellowed by the tea and the need for simple, human contact, and Gethin found his senses reeling as he allowed, encouraged, responded to the kiss, vaguely aware of a trickle of water down the back of his neck from Jonathan's hand, and it was wonderful and exciting and, if this gorgeous man was going to waste himself on Luke, very, very wrong.

Aware that the slightest misstep would send Jonathan's fragile ego crashing back down into misery, Gethin ended the kiss slowly and gently, and with great reluctance sat back on his heels to look into Jonathan's eyes and grasp his hand firmly, stroke his thumb over the backs of Jonathan's fingers.

'You know you could. But if you've got your heart set on Luke, I shouldn't be doing this,' he said, even though it hadn't been him started it.

'He said it was over...'

'He didn't sound serious about it to me. I reckon, one kiss you can get away with, but more than that's probably cheating. Better go to him with a clear conscience, though. Not that he'd know, but you'd know. And the make-up sex will probably be amazing, you'll want to save yourself for that, you'll be glad you waited.'

'And if it goes wrong and I end up on the street with the rest of my belongings?'

'I'll be here all day.'

Jonathan dipped his head fractionally and dropped his hand from Gethin's neck.

'I have to try to win him back,' he said, his voice hesitant, disjointed as he sought for words. 'Or I'm always going to be all those things he said, sad and desperate and... do you see?'

Gethin nodded.

'Yes, I see. If you can get past this, make it work, then that negates the things he said. They were wrong, by the way, but...'

'I have to try.'

'I see that.' Gethin squeezed Jonathan's hand gently. 'Your bath'll be getting cold. Better let you get on with it, I suppose.'

He clambered to his feet, wishing he'd worn looser jeans, a longer shirt. Shouldn't have gone for invigorating Radox, should have just stuck with relaxing...

He was at the door when Jonathan called him back.

'Can I ask... what about oral?'

'What?'

'Oral. You know, a blowjob. Would that count as cheating, in your opinion?'

'It's not my opinion that matters,' Gethin said, trying to smile, to take it as a joke. 'It's Luke's. See you downstairs.'