Confused and worried, Loris is the polar opposite of the teasing smartarse Charles prefers to hang out with. But tonight is different. He didn’t come here for Loris’ brightness and the answers it provides. He came here because Loris seemed to be the only answer.
‘I’m… Well, I was—’
‘Wait,’ Loris tugs him inside the pub, ‘you’re freezing.’
Phoebe is stepping back towards a table where two people are sitting. ‘Sorry I called you freaky!’
Charles manages to smile, but the presence of several of Loris’ friends puts a dampener on his relief. He’s crashing a lock-in. He should have texted first to make sure it was—
Loris shifts in front of him and takes his hand, eclipsing the group and erasing his doubts. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I needed to see you.’
Loris’ concern visibly deepens, so Charles clears his throat to lighten his tone.
‘I wanted to check that you were alright. It’s late and I haven’t received my daily language lesson.’
‘I thought you got tired of it. You didn’t answer my Arabic attempt last night.’
‘Sorry, I was…’ Charles was lying in bed, recovering from a guilt-tripping phone conversation with his grandfather, and incapable of conjuring any power. ‘I wasn’t having a very fun evening.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing, but… it’s not a scoop that I can be a bit of an anxious mess. And sometimes it’s too much. But I’m fine now.’
‘You’re fine?’
‘I’mbetter.’
‘Okay… I’m not sure I’d help, but you can call me, you know? Or show up. Anytime.’
‘Yes, I know. Well, I guessed I could. But I don’t need help, I need… You… You do help. I like the Charles who turns up when you’re around. He’s easier to handle.’
‘I can’t compare, he’s the only one I’ve met.’ Loris moves closer and rests their foreheads together. ‘But I like having him around. Can he stay for a drink?’
‘You’re with your people, I don’t want to impose.’
‘My people are all people’s people. You’re welcome to stay, really. If you’re comfortable with that.’
Charles is incredibly comfortable, floating in a bubble where Loris’ voice sounds deeper than ever and the honey scent of his shampoo is heady.
‘Yes, alright.’
‘I need to finish up behind the counter, but make yourself at home.’
Loris faces the table and lets go of Charles’ hand. The bubble quakes but doesn’t burst. It expands and swallows the room.
‘Friends, this is Charles. Charles, this is Andres. Enzo. And Phoebe, but that’s been established.’
Charles waves to reply to the collective greeting he receives.
He recognises Andres, whose FC Barcelona hoodie confirms the Hispanic origin he had deduced from his accent last time. Charles doesn’t recall meeting Enzo before, and his aleatory memory isn’t at fault. He wouldn’t have forgotten his looks and rockstar style. Elsy used to have posters of guys like him on her walls.
‘And this is Aliah.’
A young woman has emerged from the toilets, shaking droplets of water off her hands, her sooty hair dancing across her shoulders. Charles has never met her either, but he’s familiar with her stunningface and figure. She’s Loris’ art model.
‘What did I miss?’
