They stayed in bed for the rest of the day. Seb didn’t speak. Brian snuck home mid-day, and Martin gave him the rental car keys and instructions for returning it. Martin settled himself against the back of the couch and surfed channels with the sound off. At some point, Seb rolled over and buried his head in Martin’s lap. Martin held him close. Seb was asleep again when Brian returned, carrying both their suitcases as well as a paper bag of fish and chips. Outside, the sun was down.
Martin managed to coax Seb out of bed and down the hall to the shower. He left clean clothes on the back of the toilet, because Seb didn’t seem with it enough to do anything but put his smoky clothes back on.
Brian was setting out plates when Martin came into the kitchen. “How’s he doing?”
Martin shrugged. “He made a phone call earlier. His agent, I think. He hasn’t said much else.”
Brian grunted, pulling the wrapped packages of fish and chips from the bag. “I hope Seb eats fish. It seemed like the easiest thing to get.”
“It will be fine.” Fine. He’d described himself that way so often when he’d been anything but.
The water turned off in the shower, and the silence made Martin tense. He wasn’t ready to see Seb’s blank face again.
“He looks like you did,” Brian said as he unwrapped their dinner, “when you first got here. I thought you’d been brainwashed. You didn’t say anything to me for the first week. You got up to go to the bathroom, and then you’d go back to bed.”
The bathroom door creaked open. Martin and Brian stared at each other, listening to the quiet sound of Seb’s feet coming down the hall. He didn’t stop as he passed the kitchen.
“Brian brought us dinner.” Martin’s heart twisted when Seb flinched.
“I hope you like fish and chips.” Brian sounded falsely cheery.
Seb’s eyes were slashed with grief. “I’m not very hungry. I think I’m just going to go back to sleep.”
The lump that formed in Martin’s throat nearly strangled him. Had he looked like that when Brian brought him here?
“Hey,” Brian said as he pushed his chair back. “Come have something. You need to eat.” He moved across the kitchen and led Seb to the table with a gentle arm around his shoulders. It was such a familiar gesture. How many times had Brian done the same thing for Martin?
Seb allowed himself to be seated. Martin resisted the urge to cut the fish into pieces like Seb was a child, but maybe he should have because Seb took a few fries and left the rest untouched.
“How was the party?” Brian said. Martin could kiss his brother for trying.
Seb pushed away from the table before Brian and Martin were halfway through their meal. He didn’t say anything, just shuffled out of the kitchen. A minute later, the pull-out couch’s springs creaked.
“It’ll be better in the morning,” Martin said.
* * *
It was better. Or worse, depending how one looked at it. When Martin woke, for a second, he was at home at Brian’s, and everything was okay. And then he rolled into a puff of smoke-scented air coming from the sheets, and Martin remembered.
The bed was empty.
The house was empty. A plate of cold bacon and eggs sat on the table, as well as a note from Brian saying he’d gone to work and to call if they needed anything.
“Seb?”
A short investigation showed Seb wasn’t in the house, but maybe that was a good sign. If he was out, he had to be feeling better.
Martin took another long shower, pulled the sheets off the couch, and threw them in the wash along with their smoky clothes. He threw out the eggs and bacon and washed the single dish in the sink.
Then he started to worry.
Was this how Brian had felt when Martin had been at his worst? Seb left no note. No indication of where he’d gone. No sign that he’d had anything to eat. He’d had all of about four french fries last night, and nothing else for more than twenty-four hours.
If Martin had been like this when he’d first come to Seacroft, no wonder he’d lost weight.
He called Seb. There was no answer, which became obvious when Martin found his phone on the coffee table. The battery was dead, so Martin plugged it in and then went back to the den to wait.
Hours later, he was wearing a path up and down the hall pacing when Seb’s phone rang. Martin didn’t hesitate when he saw Oliver’s name on the screen.
