Startled, Jodi dropped the lid and shoved the box under the bed. Jesus. Was that his? Rupert’s? And what the fuck was it for? Like he didn’t know. But the trouble was, he didn’t. In theory, Jodi knew who put what where, but as he pictured Rupert’s cock and the giant dildo, he couldn’t imagine enjoying having either one crammed inside him.
But, for once, sex wasn’t what he wanted to think about. He pushed the box to the back of the “Rupert Files” and crawled into bed. His vision was too blurry to watch TV, so he turned off the lamp and closed his eyes, ignoring the strange falling sensation that made the bed feel like a magic carpet. He blocked out the album and tried to make peace with the bewilderment that accompanied the joy warming his veins. The album documented the entire five years he was missing—where they’d been, what they’d done, and how they felt. Undeniable love and laughter seeped out of every page, which left him with just one question: why the hell hadn’t anyone shown him the album before?
Twenty
Rupert had never finished a night shift in such a good mood. He emerged from the station to a haze of dawn sunshine, and could hardly bear to head straight underground to the Tube.
Feeling reckless, he ditched it at Highbury and jogged the remaining five miles home. It took longer than a Tube ride, but running cleared his head of the long night’s work, and running home to Jodi’s arms seemed somehow fitting. If Jodi was awake, at least.
Rupert hoped he was. He’d grown indulgently used to finding Jodi waiting for him in the kitchen, greeting him with a sleepy smile and a cup of the terrible concoction Jodi called tea. All this time, he’d thought he’d known what he was missing, but now that he had some of it back, it was clear his own memories had done Jodi’s way of loving him no justice. Far from being a token gesture of their old life, this brave new world felt somehow more real.
He let himself into the flat. It was dark and still, with no sign of Jodi being up just yet. Rupert swallowed his disappointment and went to the kitchen, flipping the kettle on. A cuppa while curled up beside a sleeping Jodi sounded like heaven, then perhaps he’d get a few hours shut-eye too. They had all day in the world to fuck around, right?
Rupert brewed his tea with a smirk. Rebuilding their physical relationship was becoming less terrifying by the day, and he wondered if today would be the day fate gave them the green light to move on.
His mind still in the gutter, he took his tea into the bedroom. Jodi was hunched up under the covers, the duvet over his head. Rupert set his mug down. “Morning, boyo.”
The greeting was whispered, but it was usually enough to bring Jodi round.
Jodi didn’t move. Rupert leaned over the bed and gently drew the covers back. “Jodi?”
“Rupe?” Jodi moaned and hid his eyes.
Rupert grasped his shoulder. Despite the heavy duvet, Jodi’s skin was clammy and cold. “I’m here. What’s the matter? Can you look at me a sec?”
Jodi raised his head and gazed at Rupert with one eye, the other half-closed and drooping, pulling the left side of Jodi’s face with it.
Rupert’s stomach dropped through the floor.Jesus. He’s had a fucking stroke.“Jodi? I need you to tell me what’s happened, okay?”
“Head hurts,” Jodi slurred. “Can’t see you.”
“What about your arms and legs? Can you move them?”
Jodi clumsily shifted his right arm, covering his face with his hand, and mumbled something nonsensical, until he broke off with a groan so full of pain it was like a bullet to Rupert’s heart.
He covered Jodi with the duvet again and retrieved his phone from his pocket, dialling 999 with his thumb. The operator connected him to the ambulance control room. “He has a TBI,” Rupert explained after listing Jodi’s symptoms. “I’m a firefighter with Green Watch at Brixton, and I think he might’ve had a stroke.”
The operator dispatched help and stayed on the line. “Try not to panic. It might look worse than it is.”
“We ain’t that lucky.”
“Come on now. Check his breathing again.”
Rupert obeyed, following her instructions until he heard sirens outside. “They’re here.”
He dashed to the hall and buzzed the paramedics in. He bid the operator goodbye, then listed Jodi’s history and symptoms as they moved swiftly to the bedroom. The younger ambulance technician took one glance at Jodi and disappeared to fetch the stretcher, and the frown on the remaining paramedic did little to quell Rupert’s fears.
“Has anything like this happened before?” the paramedic asked.
“No.” Rupert eyed the ECG monitor, though he had no idea what he was looking for. “He’s had some seizures and headaches, some muscle spasms and dizziness, but nothing like this.”
“We’ll take him to King’s,” the paramedic said. “They’ve got his history and better TBI facilities. How long was he home alone for?”
“All night. He could’ve been like this all fucking night—” Rupert clapped a hand over his mouth.
The paramedic grasped his shoulder. “We don’t know that for sure. This could’ve happened ten minutes before you walked in. We’ll get him to King’s as fast as we can. If this is a stroke, there’s every chance they can reverse it.”
Easy for him to say, but as Jodi stared blankly at Rupert with his one working eye, Rupert knew the dash to King’s was his only chance. “Okay. Let’s go.”
