Page 101 of Total Creative Control
A bark of disbelieving laughter. “Come on. When have I ever had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of months? And when have I ever given a fuck about it ending? I’m not made for...for...” He trailed off with a shrug.
“For intimacy?” Aaron suggested, remembering the brush of Lewis’s lips against the nape of his neck as they’d settled down to sleep. “For feelings?”
“Right.” Lewis looked away, blinking. His eyes were suddenly very bright in the morning light, stark against his wan face. “You know I’m a selfish arse. I’m impatient, and rude, and I can’t give enough of myself to anyone. I never could. Not even to—” His voice cracked; he cleared his throat. “Not even to my mum. Or Owen.”
Aaron stilled, unsure how to react. Lewisnevertalked about his family. So he let the radio fill the silence between them while he gathered his thoughts, watching the muscles jump in Lewis’s jaw. Eventually, Aaron said, “I think that’s bollocks, actually.”
Lewis stared across the breakfast bar, his expression bleak. “That’s because you don’t know me,” he said. “You don’t know me at all.”
“Oh, I think I do. I think I know you very well, Lewis. And you know me.” Aaron braced himself against the counter, refusing to back down from the truth. The truth he’d been hiding from for too long, the truth Lewis needed to hear. “Friends or colleagues, or whatever you want to call it, you and I are very close. We already have an intimate relationship, Lewis; we’ve had one for the last three years.”
“No.” Lewis rubbed at his shoulder. “No, that’s different. That’s just work. That’s… It’s not the fucking same.”
Gently, Aaron said, “I know it’s scary to get close to people, to depend on them, but youcando it. I think, deep down, you want to do it.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re totally fucking wrong about that. I don’t—” He glared, still rubbing at his sore shoulder. “That’s the last fucking thing I want, believe me. As soon as you start depending on people, boom, they’re gone.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?Youfucking left—” He cut himself off, scrubbing a hand angrily across his eyes. “Fuck,” he said, with feeling, staring down into his tea.
Aaron’s heart was slugging away, anxious and guilty, but he knew this was about more than him leaving his job. Even if he hadn’t already suspected that Lewis’s childhood trauma still dogged him, his reactions during the workshop at Safehaven would have given it away. Treading carefully, he said, “And so did your mum?”
Lewis’s head shot up. “What? My mum didn’t leave. Shedied.”
“That’s still leaving, isn’t it? So of course it’s going to hurt when someone else you… you depend on leaves.”
“It’s not—” Lewis swallowed, stopped speaking.
“Look,” Aaron said. “I promised myself I’d be honest today. And I know you appreciate honesty, Lewis. I know you don’t like to be bullshitted. So here it is, the truth: I didn’t leave my job because I didn't want to work with you. The opposite, really. I left because I had—Ihave—feelings for you.” He winced at the euphemism, tried again. “Because I’m in love with you and have been for a few years.”
Lewis stared, rigid as a rabbit in headlights.
Into the silence, Aaron said, “I only admitted it to myself at Safehaven, after we…” He stumbled, eyes fixed on Lewis’s pale, panicking face, and plunged on. “I think I half knew, but after we slept together, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I realised I’d been putting my career, my whole life, on hold.” He gave an awkward laugh. “We both know I should have moved into another role by now, but I just couldn’t. Because I didn’t want to leave you.”
Still, Lewis didn’t speak. In fact, he looked like he wanted to run.
“It’s okay,” Aaron assured him. “I don’t expect anything from you—this is for me to handle. I just want you to know that when I left the job, I wasn’t leaving you. I wasn’t abandoning you. I’ll always be here for you, as a friend.” He gritted his teeth against the next part, but made himself say it, “And as something more, if you want that. For my part, I think we could have something special. I think we already have something pretty special.”
After a silence, Lewis said, “If you knew me, you wouldn’t say that.”
“But I do know you, and I am saying it.”
Lewis looked bleaker than Aaron had ever seen him. He sucked in a breath, paused, and through gritted teeth said, “When my mum was dying, do you know what I did?”
Oh God.“Lewis…”
“I fucking left her.”
The grief in his face was too much to bear. Aaron felt it in his chest as if it were his own. He reached over, gripping Lewis’s hand, but Lewis snatched his arm back.
“The nurse brought us into the room to say goodbye, and I—I couldn’t fucking do it. So I ran. I ran and left Owen to deal with her alone. I couldn’t even give them that much of myself. So don’t you—” He sucked in a shuddering breath, pushed himself to his feet, toppling the stool over in his haste. “Fuck. I have to go.”
“Lewis, wait.” Aaron darted out from behind the breakfast bar.
“Where are my shoes?” He was looking around blindly. “I can’t find my fucking—”
“Lewis.” Aaron gripped his shoulders, turning him. “You were achild. For Christ’s sake, of course you couldn’t cope, but that doesn’t mean you—”