‘Healthy way to go through life.’
There’s more. Charles’ inner voices are loud. One is warning himagainst bringing a part of his world inside his Loris-bubble. One is wondering how much of a different person he is with George and with Loris, and who he will become with them both. One is panicking that such introductions might seem like a big deal and bother Loris.
Is he ready to formalise their relationship? They’ve never discussed whether they—
‘You’re freaking out, so never mind. Next time.’
‘No! Well, yes, I’m freaking out. But I can’t let old-Charles slow me down anymore.’
‘This place is very safe for you. I don’t want to mess it up.’
‘You won’t. And now I’ll overthink until it happens, so better that I only overthink while we cross the road. Let’s go.’
‘Alright. But if that helps, I want to rise up to the challenge and embarrass you.’
‘How is that supposed to help?’
‘It’s the only thing you should worry about. When will I bring up Phil’s fifteenth birthday party and the moment vodka drove you to pull down your pants in the middle of the room?’
Charles snorts, his nerves loosening up a little. He will happily deal with mortifying revelations if they prevent uneasy silences between Loris and George.
‘As soon as it gets too heavy, blink twice. I’ll share one of your most cringeworthy feats.’
‘Thank you.’
Charles pushes the door open and holds his breath, to asphyxiate a new voice pointing out that he should have perhaps told Loris about George’s visit.
The pub is empty and seems all but closed already. Loris is slouching on the counter, killing time on his phone.
Charles is now accustomed to the striking neon-lit sight of him. Buthe will never get used to the way Loris makes him feel when he looks up and beams at him – as if Charles were the last remaining patch of colour in a world in black and white.
‘Blimey! I’m having nightmarish flashbacks of the Wicked Witch of the North picturing us as a hotpot!’
Charles jabs George in the ribs. ‘We don’t call Patty that anymore.’
‘It’s fine. My friends still do.’ Loris joins them and presses a fleeting kiss on Charles’ temple, because of the windows exposing them to passers-by. ‘You okay? You look tense.’
‘I carried this guy on my back to ask you for a massage later.’
‘True story. I’m George, the useful burden.’
‘Loris. Nice to finally put a face to the name.’
‘Likewise. I’ve heard info dumps about you.’
‘I may have oversold you to one another.’ Charles pushes a bit more into Loris’ space. ‘So if you ever meet when I’m not around, feel free to return the favour.’
‘We’d need three days to cover the extent of your greatness.’
‘Do you guys want a drink?’
‘Please. A nip of your best whisky.’
Loris goes back behind the bar. ‘Sorry, George. I never take responsibility for anyone’s potential disappointment. You pick your own poison and live to enjoy or regret it.’
‘Smart man. Alright, second on the left, I don’t think I’ve tried it. Two doubles, neat.’
‘So I guess you’re ready to take responsibility for Charles’ potential disappointment?’
