Falling (20 page)

This is so hard. I’m using up all my resources just to be here right now.

It’s eleven at night, and if Angus’s dad doesn’t know where Angus is, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Angus wouldn’t just vanish of his own accord. The possibility that something bad has happened to him swells sickly inside me. I hammer again on the door, louder and more persistent this time.

My first impression of Jack O’Rourke came nearly two months ago when I opened the communal door to our flats, sick of his continued hammering fist rattling the glass. I told him, in no uncertain terms, that Eleanor and Angus were not coming outside to talk to him and he could fuck right off or I’d be calling the police. He acted as if he was used to intimidating people with his presence. But I wasn’t going to be intimidated—I was feeling too protective of my little nest for that. He was shorter than me and far broader, and I remember thinking his body could have been powerful if he hadn’t let himself go. His stomach bulged over his belt. I’d gotten the impression he was a drinker, though I can’t recollect why. The only similarity I could find between him and Angus was his unruly mass of thick dark hair.

The man with the half-empty bottle of beer in his hand who drunkenly sways as he stands in the doorway in front of me is…
diminished
. It’s the only way I can describe him. Jack O’Rourke is not the man he once was. He’s so much thinner—his clothes are hanging off him. His hair is a matted mess, and his face looks haggard.

“Who are you?” he asks roughly.

“A friend of Angus’s.”

“Fuck off.” He moves to shut the door, but I shove my foot in the way.

“I’m looking for Angus.”

“My son—” Jack shakes his head, and then of all things, he laughs, though there is little humor to it. “—disgusts me.”

But there is no disgust in his expression, if anything, he looks upset
—
deeply upset
—
and it throws me. It makes me think that something has happened between him and Angus. Something recent.

“Is he here?” I ask, desperately wanting my hunch to be right and feeling as though my stomach is climbing up my throat.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Again the warring emotions on his face—part distress, part anger. “You’re the one who changed him.
Perverted
him.”

What?
The conversation has me lost. I’m not sure what to think.

“Get the fuck away from my house,” he spits with a bit more venom this time, and he slams the door against my foot in an effort to get rid of me.

Pain lances up my leg.

I’m not angry, but I am desperate. With both hands I push the door back against him. The momentum shoves him against the wall.

“Is he here?” I repeat with a little more force as I stand over him.

“No.”

“
Was
he here?”

Jack doesn’t answer. It tells me all I need to know, and I’m floored by the white-hot relief rushing through me. Right now I’m not even wondering why Angus came to see his dad. I’m not even going to think about it. Finding him so I can just hold him in my arms is the only thing I want to think about.

“When? How long ago?”

Jack shrugs.

“Was he going to get the bus home?”

“
This
was supposed to be his home.” He takes a long drink from the bottle in his hand. “How can
she
look after him?” he spits.

How can you?
I think, stepping backwards away from Jack, away from the door, and out into the cold of the night.

I
F
HE
’
S
not headed for the bus, Angus is going to be walking. Walking through this particularly unfriendly bit of South London. On his own. At night.

He’ll be okay
, some naive-sounding voice tells me. But I still can’t trust it.

Jack O’Rourke shuts his front door, and I break into a run.

T
HE
SLEET
has given way to a constant drizzle that blurs the world through my windscreen. The shadows down every street expand away from me. Even the houses are swallowed by the dark. And I’m just looking for a single solitary figure. A young man with his head down, his coat gripped tightly around him against the cold.

I drive slowly, trusting my heart to know if it sees him.
See, I am trying to trust
, I want to plead.
Just let me find him. Let me tell him I’m sorry.
I’ve messed this up so badly.

Not far out of the estate, I stop and text Soren to let him know what’s going on.

I berate myself for not pressing Jack for more details. Like exactly when Angus left, how long he’s likely to have been walking. But it’s stupid to think Jack would even know.

I take a deep breath.

Angus can look after himself. He is not a kid. I need… I
have
to trust. What else can I do?

Still driving slowly, I follow the signposts and take the most direct route home. It would be pointless circling the backstreets. I don’t know them like he does.

I’m on the main road when I see a figure running along the pavement ahead of me. I think it’s a bit late to go out for a run, but maybe some people work so late that the night is all they have.

It’s only when I’ve passed him that I really notice the way his dark hair is flopped messily into his face, his lean but solid build.

My heart thumps.

I hit the brakes and come to a near emergency stop in the empty bus lane.

Angus runs toward the car—a look of complete surprise on his face as he sees me get out.

“Josh,” he gasps as I throw my arms around him.

He’s soaked through, his face cold against my neck, his breath warm, his chest heaving from exertion. I’ve become so light now he is near me, the heaviness in my chest dissolving with every rapid beat of his heart.

“I was so worried about you,” I whisper.

He feels so alive. I don’t ever want to move again.

But I pull away to give him a bit of space, and he drops forward, his hands gripping his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

“Didn’t you get… my message? Went to see… my dad. I tried… to phone you again… but my battery died.”

Brushing his wet hair out of his eyes, he looks up at me as if trying to gauge my reaction.

“Your message cut off. I know you went to see him, but only because I went to see him too,” I add.

“What time is it?” Slowly he stands up, his breathing becoming deeper, slower, though his chest is still heaving.

“Nearly midnight?” I guess. “I thought I was going to have to start ringing round the hospitals.” I try and smile to make it into a joke, but it’s not. It’s really not.

“Crap.
I’m sorry
—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Angus looks stricken. “I knew it was late, and I had no money for the bus even.
I’m sorry
,” he repeats, biting his lip, clearly upset. “You went to see my dad?” he adds, frowning, as if only just processing what I said.

“Like I said, I was a bit worried.”

He holds my gaze. I feel light-headed.

As if our reactions are somehow connected, we both sink down to sit on the curb. It’s freezing and wet, but my body is more aware of other things—my proximity to Angus being the main one. All my senses are on high alert, ready to respond to the slightest movement.

“How did your exam go?”

“Good.” A smile flickers across his face. “You were the first person I called, you know.” He nudges me with his shoulder, and I nudge him back.

“When I came out of the exam room, I felt like I had achieved something. I knew then I had to see him. I had to do it while I felt strong, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to prove something to myself, to you, to Mum. I wanted to stand up to him. To just be myself and no longer feel like I’m hiding. I don’t want to be that timid kid anymore. I thought if I could do that then I wouldn’t be so scared of everything.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m so…
proud
of you. The way you handled Eleanor going into hospital, the way you’ve worked so hard for this college thing. That bastard has treated you like crap, and you’ve shown him in a thousand ways how strong you are.”

“Do you really think that?”

“Yes.”

“You really hate him, don’t you?” he says quietly.

“I hate the way he’s treated you,” I say, thinking about what Soren said back at my flat about how he still sees his dad every week even though he doesn’t get on with him.

Angus’s relationship with his dad is complicated. Tonight proves that if nothing else. Encouraging Angus to cut his dad out of his life would hurt him more than help him. Angus needs to come to terms with him in his own way. If that means having some sort of relationship with his dad, I have to try and support that. If it means he doesn’t want his dad in his life at all, I’ve got to be there for him. It’s not my place to do or suggest anything else.

“He’s your dad, Angus. He’ll always be your dad. I won’t stand for him treating you badly, but I’m not going to make you feel bad for wanting to see him either. I’ve always got your back, whatever.”

“I told him I was gay.”

“Yeah, I thought you might have.”

“He didn’t take it so well.”

I pull what I hope is a sympathetic face, though I suspect it’s not too convincing when most of what I feel is this low growling anger rolling around inside me. I think instead about Eleanor giving us her blessing at the hospital. I doubt Angus being gay or straight even factors in for her. All she wants is for him to be happy and loved. And that’s how it should be, isn’t it?

“You’re not too upset?” I ask.

Angus shrugs. “He kind of reacted how I expected.” He snorts softly. “I’ve never told anyone else that before, you know… said it out loud like that.
I’m gay
. It felt weird. And even though my dad didn’t want to hear it, it felt good to say the words.” Angus looks up at me, his eyes so dark, his skin luminous in the glow of the streetlight. “You were the first person who ever said it to me. When you told me you were gay, you said it so easily, like you were telling me the sun was shining or that you liked books.” He gives me a small smile. “You made me feel normal. I’d never felt normal before.”

“You
are
normal.”

I don’t remember what I said when I told Angus I was gay. All I remember is that it surprised me that I’d wanted him to know. I remember I’d regretted it afterwards, though. Stupid me, eh?

“I’d had a crush on you for ages before that. Before you even knew me.” Angus stares at his hands.

My eyes widen. I must look comical. I guess it explains the awkward weirdness we sort of got into once he knew I was gay.

“I used to get the bus past Mum’s flat after school. The bus stop opposite the flat was on the route, and sometimes the bus would wait there for a few minutes at a time as people got on and paid or whatever, so then I could stare out the window and hope. I never got off, and Dad never knew. I just wanted to see Mum, and I knew he wouldn’t let me. It was a few years ago when I saw you helping Mum clear out the front garden—she was giving you instructions out of the window. You were wearing these pale trousers with grass stains all over the knees, and you were smiling. You looked so kind and strong. I can’t explain it, but I just knew if I spoke to you, I’d….”Angus swallows. “I’d never felt so attracted to anyone. I got the bus more and more, hoping to see you, but it was only once in a while you were there. I thought about you all the time.”

“A few
years
ago…,” I repeat, feeling a little shocked.

“It was a very innocent crush.” He looks down. If the lights were brighter, I’m fairly certain I’d be able to see him blushing. “I used to dream of you holding me, of just lying in your arms. More than anything I wanted us to be friends, but I knew you’d see me as a kid.”

For a minute we are silent. I try and assimilate what Angus has just told me, but it’s hard.

“I spoke to Mum on the phone before I went to see my dad,” he says quietly. “I know you gave me the money for college. You shouldn’t have done that.”

Oh.

Something squirms in my stomach before solidifying heavily. “I’m sorry.”

I feel small and stupid. I know he must feel like I’ve undermined his ability to look after himself. His pride. And really, that’s the last thing I want to do.

“I’m nearly nineteen. I’m not a kid,” he carries on. “I want to be someone to you, not someone you have to look after. I want to be someone you can rely on. I’m going to get a job and pay you back.”

I nod. Of course I understand that. “I just wanted you to have a chance. I know I didn’t go about it the right way.” I run my hand over my face, feeling suddenly very tired.

Angus watches me thoughtfully. I think back to earlier, how I opened up to Soren. I don’t know what’s stopping me opening up now.

“Oskar came into the shop today. He was worried about you. He said you’re terrified of being in the flat.”

Angus looks away. “I think it was my dad, or the idea of my dad, like my subconscious was telling me I can’t run away anymore, that I needed to face him, to be myself and stand up to him. You’ll probably think it’s weird, but I think he was the shadow I kept seeing. I hope it’s worked.”

I do too. But that’s not where I was going with my revelation.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” I say softly. “What I want to say is, it’s okay to be scared. I think everyone is of something. I’m… terrified too,” I get out eventually.

Angus looks over at me curiously.

“What of?”

“Feeling like this.” I pause, trying to find the right words and knowing there is only one, really.

Angus faced his fears. I’m the one being the coward by not facing up to mine.