***

 2.)

Ben is completely breathless as he runs after Lexi across the field; she’s got the ball beneath her feet and is pegging it towards the other end of the field- target well within sight- where Callum waits in goal. She’s fast, but not faster than he is so when Ben catches up to her, she squeals out loud and trips over her over own feet. Callum, being the caring man that he is panics, dropping his position to run towards her. He reaches her before Ben has even had the chance to catch his breath.

“Lex, you okay?” He hears Callum ask, slightly breathless himself by the time he gets to them both. But before either of them has figured out her master plan Lexi is back on her feet, giggling away, and has darted past the pair of them, kicking the ball full force into the back of the net. She jumps up and down excitedly.

“I got ya- I got ya. Bet you didn’t see that coming did ya, Cal? I’m a much cleverer football player than both you and daddy!” She exclaims loudly, punching the air in victory, and Callum laughs all rumbly and elatedly; a proud look on his face as he looks at Lexi. Ben softens and goes weak in the knees.

“Well done, darlin’, you really got me there. Proper little footy player in the making eh?” He says with a smile.

“Clever little madam, ain’t she?” Now, go and get me my water, baby. Daddy’s all football-ed out.” He breathes out slowly and turns towards Callum. “I really do hate this bloody game. Next time, it’s just you and her, okay? My back can’t hack it no more.”

“Aww, alright old man, struggling to keep up?” Callum goads, ruffling his hair.

Ben pushes his hand away, “Who you calling old man? I’m younger the you.” He scoffs, standing up straight with his hands on hips as he stretches out his legs.

“Yeah, but I ain’t the one complaining about keeping up no more.” Callum laughs, tapping him on the back of the thigh with a smirk, still goading. 

“Alright alright, we can’t all be as gorgeous and as spritely as you, can we babe?” He calls out and adds, “Besides, I find my sprightliness in other ways. Horizontal sports are more my forte.” Ben winks to hammer home his point, and Callum ducks his head with a high blush on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the exhaustion of football.

 ***

 3.)

The moment they get home Ben is so ramped up from watching Callum jump around in those tight shorts after playing footy in the park with Lex earlier and he can hardly stand the tension anymore. They drop Lexi off with Lola and Jay and head home. It’s not long before Ben has Callum pressed up against the door and has his way with him; swallows him down, and groans messily with his mouth full.

Callum’s head hits the door with such force he sees stars burst in his periphery and he’s shooting his load down Ben’s throat far quicker than he ever intended. He immediately returns the favour.

Ben grabs Callum’s hair and pushes up into Callum’s mouth a few more times before he finally lets go with a loud, breathy sigh. Callum releases him with an obscene pop, and licks the remnants from his lips; a sated man if ever he saw one. A beautiful sight.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” Ben admires looking down lovingly at the man still knelt between his legs. He traces his thumb over Callum’s plump bottom lip and tilts his chin up so that he can look him in the eye.

“You’re so good to me. C’mere.”

Callum stands and they both get lost in each other’s mouths; tongues and lips collide in a whirlwind of passion.  

 ***

 +1 Ben publicly calling Callum gorgeous).

The Vic is bursting with colour; maroons, blues, greens, and with a hint of silver here and there. They’d really out-done themselves this time. The atmosphere is buzzing with excitement, booze is flowing freely, and the music is loud and cheery, until someone cuts the sound system and suddenly a clearing of the throat cuts through over a crackling mic.

Mick Carter stands on the podium, wiggling the microphone in one hand and dramatically holds his glass up to the sky with the other, he taps it three times to garner everyone’s attention.

“Alright alright alright you lot- settle down will ya. I’d like to make a toast. If everyone could raise their glass to the ‘appy couple. May your future lives together be filled with ‘appiness and love and all that other soppy stuff. Less of the drama, eh boys? Think you’ve both had enough for a lifetime. And- and keep it in ya pants until the honeymoon, yeah? I don’t want none o’ that funny business in the bogs this time. Scarred for life I was, an’ I was just tryin’a go for a wazz.” He slurs a little drunkenly, and everyone laughs. “Anyway anyway, the point is, I’m ‘appy you both found each other when you needed it the most. Have a good one, fella’s. TO CALLUM AND BEN!” He finishes, and prompts everyone else into action.

The pub all raise their glasses in unison and shout:

“TO CALLUM AND BEN!” And everyone shots their drinks down their necks before Mick is back on mic asking for the grooms to come up and say a few words.

Ben goes first, because he knows that if Callum were to get up and say something he wouldn’t be able to swallow past the lump of emotion that’s most likely going to stick in the back of his throat. So here he stands, in front of his friends and family as they stare up at him. But Ben only has eyes for one man. His husband.

“Cal, I’m not going to stand here and wax poetry about ya again without bawling my eyes out, so I’ll just say this: You make me happier than I have any right to be. You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and now- you’re all mine.” He smiles widely at Callum, whose looking up at him like he hung the stars and the moon, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

Ben manages to tear his eyes away for one moment and addresses everyone else in the room, “And, to everyone else: thank you for coming, thank you for sharing this day with me, and one final thought before I leave you to enjoy the open bar- you’re welcome for that by the way…” He stops to look out over the faces of his family and friends and yells: “Sucks to be you, because I just bagged the most gorgeous man in all of Walford, and the world. Cheers!”

The cheers erupt, the tears are fresh, and the laughter ramps up to a hearty volume.

That seems to work, because Callum’s turning his head to face him and the hand that was reaching for the door drops back down by his side. Ben feels like he can breathe a little easier.

“I’m meant to be meeting Stuart,” Callum’s saying, and the fact that Ben can’t hear the tone in his voice scares him more than his words. “I have to go.”

“We need to talk. Properly talk, I mean.”

“I don’t have time, Ben.”

Callum smiles over his shoulder, and Ben glances behind him to see Lola ushering Lexi out of the room, presumably to get her ready for school and to give them some space.

“Later, then?” Ben asks when he turns back to Callum.

He sees it then, the exhaustion in his eyes and the dark circles under them. The way Callum’s holding himself a little tighter than he normally would, the tension in his shoulders. Ben knows it isn’t all his fault, but it’s enough that he put at least some of it there.

Callum doesn’t hold his gaze. His eyes flit around Ben’s face for a few seconds before he’s looking down at the floor and shaking his head. “Ben I-”

Ben doesn’t waste any time when he leans in and kisses him. It’s the only thing he can think to do; the only thing that makes sense. His life is terrifying and confusing and the only time it seems to stand still is when Callum’s kissing him.

Callum’s not moving, and he isn’t kissing him back, but Ben can’t stop. He can’t let Callum walk out without him knowing how much he means to him. It’s not a risk he’s willing to take. So, he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him until he feels Callum pressing back into it and his hands are on his waist and Ben feels like he’s grounded again.

It’s not like their usual kisses. It doesn’t get heated; Callum doesn’t nip at his bottom lip and Ben doesn’t repay him by sliding his tongue into his mouth and teasing him until they’re both breathing heavy and moaning. Ben’s never been good with his words, so it’s a kiss that says everything he can’t.

Please don’t go. Promise me you’ll come back. I can’t do this without you.

And Callum answers back in his own way.

I’m still here.

And Ben thinks that’s enough.

Callum’s resting his forehead against his when they pull back from the kiss, and they both keep leaning in like they want to keep kissing and find solace in each other again. But they need to talk. And they both know that.

Ben feels Callum’s breath against his lips when he speaks and leans back enough so that he can see what he’s saying.

“I said I have to go.”

Ben feels his blood run cold.

Callum can more than likely feel the way he tenses a little, if the way he moves one of his hands from Ben’s waist to his chin and tilts his head up to face him is anything to go by.

“I’ll be back later. I still need to see Stuart.”

Ben doesn’t say anything, just nods his head once, twice, and lets Callum pull him in for one last kiss before he leaves.

I love you; Callum’s kiss is saying.

 I think I might love you too, Ben thinks to himself, and the thought hits him like a shockwave.

He’s still reeling from it even after the door’s shut and Callum has disappeared from sight.

Ben runs his thumb across his bottom lip like he can imprint the memory of Callum there until he sees him again and leans back against the counter when Lexi and Lola come back into the room, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Lola’s looking at him like she knows everything and as far as he knows, she probably does. But she’s looking at him like she feels sorry for him and Ben feels exhausted all over again.

“Right princess-,” he starts, leaning down to help Lexi zip her coat up, “-Daddy’s going back to bed for a bit. You be a good girl for Mummy when she takes you to school, alright?”

“I’m always a good girl,” Lexi bites back, rolling her eyes. “If you’re tired you can borrow the unicorn from my room! It has magic sleeping powers that are only for me, but I’ll share them with you this one time.”

Ben pulls her in for a hug and peppers kisses across her forehead and on the top of her hair. He laughs when she moans about him getting her braid messy, so he holds his hand up in surrender and stands back up.

He watches her walk to the door Callum had just left through, watches as she waves at him whilst she skips across the room. Ben doesn’t take his eyes away from her and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face when she signs at him.

I love you, Daddy.

Ben signs it back. It’s a little messy, but Lexi seems to understand the point. He watches her leave out of the kitchen window, sees her holding tightly to Lola’s hand as she skips down the street until she disappears from view and he’s alone again.

It’s almost ironic, he thinks, how a house this big can feel so suffocatingly small when he’s alone in it.

He takes the time to clear the table of the plates and bowls and rinses them in the sink and when he can’t manage to distract himself with anything else, he heads back up to bed. He sleeps in Callum’s sweatshirt because it makes him feel safe and purposefully doesn’t let himself think about falling in love with Callum Highway.

-

When he wakes next, it’s to someone shaking him awake and he sits bolt upright, his fight or flight kicking in.

It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but when they do, he can make out the familiar silhouette of his mother standing by the door, hands raised in surrender like she’s trying to placate him. She’s saying something, but Ben can’t see or hear what it is.

“What?” he’s asking once he manages to fumble around and grab his glasses. He blinks a few times when everything suddenly becomes clearer and tries to focus on what she’s saying.

“I’m sorry,” Kathy insists, flicking the light on. She feels a little guilty when Ben squints and hides his eyes against the harsh intrusion. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” he insists, defensive. His mum just gives him the look and he gives up on pretending. “What are you even doing here anyway? Trying to make sure I’m keeping out of trouble?”

“No. Why? Should I be?”

Ben just rolls his eyes. “Well, thanks for the concern, Mum. But I don’t need a babysitter.”

“That’s not what yesterday suggests.” Kathy sighs and holds a hand up to cut Ben off before he can get even more defensive. “Look, I didn’t come here to have a go at you, I just thought you could use the company.”

“I don’t need company. I’m fine.”

“And I knew you’d say that. Which is why I brought over some lunch from the cafe. It’s downstairs if you want to join me.”

Ben narrows his eyes. “That’s blackmail.”

“I prefer the term bribery.”

They stare at each other for a while, wondering which one of them will break first.

It’s Ben. But only because his body betrays him and his stomach growls like it knows there’s an offer of food on the table.

“Fine. But I’m not here for a therapy session, I’m here for chips,” Ben says, standing up from the bed and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He debates changing and maybe putting his contacts in, but this sweatshirt still smells like Callum and he doesn’t want to change out of it. He makes a mental note to be extra careful when he’s eating so he doesn’t spill anything on it.

The food’s already waiting on the table when he gets downstairs, packed tightly in one of the plastic takeaway containers from the cafe. Ben grabs two plates, one for him, and one for his mum, before he starts eating.

His mouth is half full when he feels the hand on his arm and looks up.

“I saw Callum earlier.”

Ben chews slowly to give himself some time to think. “So?” he says once he’s swallowed.

“So, he looked tired, Ben. Like he hadn’t slept. And you don’t look much better yourself,” Kathy says, her hand still resting on Ben’s arm.

“Well thanks for that, Mum. Way to boost my ego.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant by that. It’s just that I’m worried about you. He’s worried about you,” she says, and Ben can’t hear it, but he knows her voice is dripping with worry and it makes him feel sick. He pushes his plate away.

“I know,” Ben says, swallowing hard around the lump that had managed to form in his throat. He tries not to think about their fight, about the bone deep fear he’d felt when Callum had said I don’t want to do this anymore, but the house has been empty and it’s easy to let his mind wander when he doesn’t have any distractions. “Believe me, Mum. I know.”

Kathy taps Ben’s arm to get his attention again. “Are you two alright?” she’s asking, and Ben doesn’t even begin to know how to answer that question. So, he just shrugs.

“We had a fight,” he admits when she presses him for more. “He tried to leave; said he didn’t want to do this anymore. I convinced him to stay and we went to bed.”

He purposefully doesn’t tell her that he spent half the night shaking in Callum’s arms. It was like a dam had broken and once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. Like everything he’d been trying to ignore flooded to the surface all at once.

Losing his hearing. Dennis’ death. Callum’s kidnapping. Lexi getting hit by that car. The operation.

There’s more, Kathy knows there is. “And?” she prompts, giving Ben the room to say as much or as little as he wants. She knows her son, and she knows that if she pushes too far, Ben will clam up.

“And now I don’t know where we stand. I woke up and he wasn’t there, he tried to leave when he caught sight of me. He said he’d be over later so we can talk.” Ben takes a breath and balls his hands into fists to get them to stop shaking. “I can’t lose him, Mum.”

“Ben we all do stupid things sometimes. Maybe not almost-cheat-on-my-boyfriend-steal-a-car-get-arrested type stupid, but my point still stands.”

Ben gawps at her for a second, and he sees her mouth a confused ‘what?’ at him. “You think I was going to cheat on him?”

“Ben, I know you left together. And Tina told me what she’d seen when I spoke to her.”

“Does Callum think I was going to cheat on him?” he asks, voice a little breathless. He tries desperately to remember the fight now, to remember everything Callum had said. Everything had been so loud and fast and his ears had been ringing since Callum had almost walked away.

Kathy narrows her eyes, confused. “He was there when I got the call from Jack, he knows you and this guy left together.”

“Because I wanted his car, Mum. Not because I wanted to get off with him.” He’s panicking again, he knows he is. “I need to see him. I have to talk to him.”

Kathy reaches out and grabs Ben’s hand when he tries to stand, and she can feel how hard he’s shaking. “Ben, calm down,” she’s saying. “Running around the square looking for him isn’t going to do you any good.”

“I don’t care, Mum!” Ben insists, pulling away from her and letting the sleeves of Callum’s sweatshirt roll down over his hands. “I just… I can’t lose him again, I almost lost him once and I can’t do it again. I won’t.”

He grips the edges of the counter and squeezes his eyes closed to try and fight off the ringing in his ears. “Nothing in this world scares me more than losing him.”

He flinches when he feels a hand on his back.

“Don’t you think he needs to hear that from you?” Kathy asks when Ben finally turns his head to look at her.

He knows, Ben wants to say, but doesn’t.

He thinks back to their argument – to what he managed to understand of it, anyway. He thinks about Callum saying he’s tired of taking a backseat, of him thinking Ben walks all over him. He thinks about Callum asking do I even cross your mind? and wants to tell him that he never leaves it. That he’s the first thing he thinks about in the morning and the last thought he has before he goes to sleep.

Ben nods and leans into his mum’s arms when she pulls him in for a hug and drops a kiss on the top of his head.

“I have to get back to work,” she tells him when they pull apart from the hug. “Talk to Callum, alright? He’s good for you. You’re good for each other. And anybody with eyes in their head can see that the two of you love each other.”

It’s the second time today he’s thought about the idea of loving Callum, of letting himself love Callum and the thought is just as terrifying as it was this morning.

By the time he remembers how to speak, Kathy’s already smiling at him from the door and leaving without so much as a goodbye from him.

Ben sinks into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and holds his head in his hands. He’s fucked. He’s completely and utterly fucked.

He’s in love with Callum Highway.

-

[From Ben, 14:38PM]

Can we talk?

 [From Callum, 14:45PM]

Still with Stuart. Tonight?

 [From Ben, 14:46PM]

Sure. Yours? We might actually get some privacy there.

 [From Callum, 15:01PM]

You saying you don’t like Lexi’s constant interruptions?

 [From Ben, 15:05PM]

My biggest regret in life is not enforcing the knocking rule sooner.

But this is important. I don’t want any interruptions.

 [From Ben, 15:06PM]

Please?

 [From Callum, 15:08PM]

I’ll kick Stuart out for a bit then. Does 7 sound good?

[From Ben, 15:08PM]

7 works. See you then.

[From Callum, 15:10PM]

See you.

 -

Ben turns up a little before seven. He debates waiting outside for a bit but decides him lingering outside Callum’s flat would be weirder than turning up early. His hand closes around the key in his pocket that Callum had given him a few weeks ago, and wonders if he should let himself in.

He rings the buzzer.

“It’s me,” he says once Callum answers, and then the door’s opening and he’s walking up the stairs.

Callum’s waiting for him when he gets to the top. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest in that way he only does when he’s feeling particularly vulnerable – like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“Hey,” Callum says, his voice soft.

“Hi,” Ben says back. He doesn’t know what to do here; doesn’t know what the protocol is. He wants to kiss Callum the way they always do when they haven’t seen each other for hours, but he doesn’t know if he should. Instead, he settles for unbuttoning his jacket and hanging it up on the pegs near the stairs.

“Do you want-” Callum starts, but cuts himself off when he remembers that Ben can’t hear him. He pushes himself up from the wall he’s leaning on and puts his hand on Ben’s shoulder to get his attention.

Ben flinches, which isn’t exactly the reaction he’d been expecting. He’s nervous. Callum doesn’t need to feel the tension in his shoulders to know that, he can almost feel the nervous energy radiating off of Ben in waves.

“Do you want a drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He puts his hand over Callum’s for a second and smiles up at him when he walks past and into the flat. He sits on the sofa and Callum follows a minute later; he’s got himself a beer which he clutches in his hands like it’s his only lifeline. Ben knows it’s only a matter of minutes before he’ll start anxiously tearing at the label and making a mess.  

“I wasn’t going to cheat on you,” Ben starts. It’s important that he says that first so that Callum knows. Ben needs him to hear it. “It never even crossed my mind, Callum. Why would it?”

“You tell me. You were the one trying to leave a bar with another man.”

Callum can’t look at him and, just as Ben had thought, he starts tearing at the label on the beer bottle.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wanted to prove that I still could, you know?”

Callum shakes his head and takes a swig of the beer. “No, Ben. That’s just it, I don’t know because you don’t talk to me. So, what was it then? You just wanted to prove to the world that you could still go out and pull some random bloke? Isn’t it enough that I love you?”

“Of course it is Callum I-”

“And then you go and nick a car too? Did you ever stop to think about what I would do if you went to prison? What Lexi would do?” Callum pauses for a second to catch his breath. “Do you really want to see her growing up without a dad all because you felt like you had something to prove to the world?”

“Callum you’re… you’re talking too fast,” Ben mumbles. He doesn’t want to admit it at first; wants to carry on pretending like he can understand what Callum’s saying when he’s only catching a handful of words that tumble from his lips.

Callum looks guilty when he apologises and even after Ben reassures him that it isn’t his fault, they’re both still tense.

“I can’t-” Callum stops and draws in a breath when his voice comes out shaky. “I can’t keep putting everything I am into us and getting scraps of you in return, Ben. It isn’t fair.”

His words hit Ben like a punch to the face, but he can’t argue because he knows there’s some truth behind them. He knows that whenever Callum tries to pull him closer, he responds by pushing him further away; it’s been his default for as long as he can remember.

“You’re right,” Ben says, avoiding Callum’s gaze when he speaks. “I thought I could do this on my own, that I could go on like everything was normal when I know it isn’t and the harder you tried to help the more I pushed you away. And then everything with Danny happened and I just felt… broken, I guess? Useless?”

Callum looks like he wants to protest, or reassure him, but Ben cuts him off by shifting a little closer on the couch and reaching out to take his hands.

“There is nothing in this world that I’m afraid of more than losing you, Callum.” He brushes his thumb across Callum’s knuckles, feels the way the grip on his hands tightens a little. “When I thought I’d lost you once it almost destroyed me. And yesterday when I thought you were going to walk away from me, I was terrified. You asked me if you even cross my mind, but the truth is you never leave it; I’m never not thinking about you.”

“Ben…” Callum trails off, but clearly his boyfriend isn’t finished.

“And I know I need to do better, that I need to stop pushing you away and taking things out on other people. I know I need to change.”

Callum drops one of Ben’s hands and reaches out to cup his cheek when he says that, thumb brushing softly over the skin there. “I don’t want you to change, Ben. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this alone. You’re allowed to be angry and upset about it all because no matter how much you try and deny it, this is a big deal. And it’s okay to be scared.”

Ben nods and turns his head to press a kiss to Callum’s palm.

“You know, when Kathy told me that you and that guy were supposed to be leaving together, it hurt, Ben. It hurt like I’d never felt before and I can’t go through that again. I can’t be constantly worrying that when things get tough, you’ll go out and try and pick up some bloke to make it easier. I can’t be a second choice.” It hurts to say, but Callum knows it needs to be said; that he needs to say it just as much as Ben needs to hear it.

“You’re not a second choice, you never could be a second choice, Callum,” Ben’s insisting and he’s squeezing his hands like he’s afraid Callum will disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

Callum wants to believe him; he really really does.

“You’re my first and last choice. Why would I even look at anybody else when I have you? You’re funny, and sweet, and smart, and incredibly sexy, and you can do things with your mouth that should probably be illegal-” Callum laughs at that, and even though Ben can’t hear it, it still manages to spread warmth through him.

“And I…” Ben trails off, drawing in a deep breath. He has to tell him. Callum has to know. But that doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t change the fact that the last time he said those three words to somebody, they ended up dead.

But Callum deserves to know.

So he tells him.

“I love you.”

His voice is shaking, and it’s softer than it’s been all night, but he’s said it. He’s said it and it feels like he can remember how to breathe again; like a weight’s been lifted from his shoulders.

Callum looks at him, lips parted like he can’t quite believe what he’s heard, and Ben wonders why he’s waited so long to tell him when it feels like he’s always known.

“What did you say?” Callum asks, breathless.

“I said I love you, Callum. I love you and I’m in love with you and it feels like I’ve loved you forev-”

He’s cut off by the feeling of Callum’s lips against his own, and it takes less than a second for Ben to kiss him back. He scoots closer on the sofa until their legs are pressed together and Callum’s cupping his cheeks and Ben has one hand on his thigh. Callum kisses him until he’s breathless and then keeps going.

Ben doesn’t know how it happens, but when they manage to tear their mouths away from each other he’s got one of his legs thrown over Callum’s lap so he’s straddling him with his hands in his hair. Callum’s hands have managed to push his shirt halfway up his back and are running across the exposed skin, making Ben shiver.

“We should-” Ben starts but is cut off by his boyfriend before he can offer a suggestion.

“Bedroom?”

“Yeah.”

Ben scrambles up from Callum’s lap and goes to offer him his hand, but he’s already rising to his feet and pulling Ben against him for another kiss as he walks them towards his bedroom. Callum’s hands on the small of his back make Ben feel safe even as he’s being walked backwards.

Somewhere along the way Ben loses his shirt, and Callum’s belt isn’t far behind it.

Callum kicks the door shut once they’ve stumbled into the bedroom together. The curtains are already closed and have been so for days. He hasn’t been spending much time here as of late, preferring instead to stay over at the Mitchell house with Ben and the others. The only time he’d been back here was to pick up some clothes whenever he’d needed them.

Ben gasps when the back of his legs hit the bed and he’s pushed down so that he’s laying on it. He barely gets a chance to breathe because almost instantly Callum’s on top of him and kissing him again and it’s Ben’s turn to slide his own hands up the back of his shirt.

“Cal!” he moans, tilting his head back when the other man kisses his way from Ben’s lips, across his jaw, and down to his neck. It hadn’t taken Callum long to figure out that Ben’s neck was his weakness, and he exploited it as much as he could.

Callum continues his assault on Ben’s neck – leaving marks in the shape of his mouth that won’t be fading any time soon – until his boyfriend is whining and gripping onto his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping him anchored.

“Off,” Ben says, tugging at the shirt in question until it gets caught on Callum’s shoulders.

“Say please,” Callum replies, with the most shit-eating grin that Ben’s ever seen.

Ben narrows his eyes as he hitches his legs up around Callum’s waist and uses the momentum he gains from pushing himself up from the bed to flip them over so that he’s the one straddling Callum now.

“Are you trying to get me to beg?” he asks, pinning Callum’s wrists down either side of his head against the bed. It’s not hard enough to hurt, and it’s loose enough that Callum could get free if he wanted to. But Ben knows he doesn’t want to.

“That depends on whether or not it’s working.” Callum makes sure he can read his lips when he speaks, but then he’s leaning up and kissing him again. He sinks his teeth playfully into Ben’s bottom lip when he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, and Ben responds by licking his way into Callum’s mouth when they next kiss and teasing his tongue against his own.

Their back-and-forth is one of the things Ben loves most about this; it’s something he’d never got with any of his one-night stands. Callum gives as good as he gets, and it gets Ben going more than it probably should.

“I might need a little more convincing.”

Ben’s teasing, and it’s definitely the wrong idea because Callum’s rolling them over again and working his way down his neck. He sinks his teeth into the juncture where Ben’s neck meets his shoulder which tears a moan from his mouth. He soothes the sting that leaves with his tongue before working his way down his chest, alternating between leaving a litany of kisses and bites as he goes.

“I think that can be arranged,” Callum bites back, holding Ben’s gaze as he unzips his jeans and shoves them down for him to kick to the floor.

And then he’s got his mouth on him and Ben buries one of his hands in Callum’s hair and curls the other into the blanket beneath him. He’s swearing and moaning, and it doesn’t take him long to start begging, something which he knows makes Callum feel smug.

“Fuck, babe, I love you…” he trails off, tipping his head back against the pillows and letting himself get lost in the feeling of Callum.

-

It’s late when they finally roll apart from each other. Neither of them know how long they’ve been at it but the streets have long since gone quiet so it must be pretty late. The room smells like sweat and sex and them and Ben thinks he could spend the rest of his life in this room with Callum and he’d die a happy man.

It takes even longer for them both to come down off the high of each other and catch their breaths, but when they do, Ben has his head resting on Callum’s chest and an arm slung over his waist and Callum’s arm is around Ben. He’s tracing the tips of his fingers up and down the length of Ben’s back absently. They both feel safe like this – wrapped up in their own little bubble.

Eventually, Callum cups Ben’s jaw with his free hand and uses it to tilt his boyfriends head up to face him. Ben’s smiling at him all soft and sweet and he thinks about how he might have gone his whole life not knowing that love could feel like this. Like anything could feel like this.

“Say it again,” he hums.

Ben rolls his eyes and leans up for a chaste kiss. “I love you,” he says once he pulls back, and he can feel the way Callum’s smiling when he leans in for another kiss.

Back into orbit now, and Dotty moves. Enters her house through the back door, strips her tights and tosses them into the bin, grabs another pair from the washing basket filled with clean clothes that she makes a mental note to put back into their wardrobes and dressers when she gets the chance, pulls them on before she goes into the living room and kisses Gran on the cheek who is having her supper and watching TV, smiles when Gran tells her to wear a scarf when she goes out because it’s almost winter now, grabs her bag and a scarf and leaves.

There’s a thirty-minute walk between the house Dotty and her Gran live and E20, the nightclub she works in. Or, one of the nightclubs she works in, the thought making her limbs feel heavier. There are two other clubs she works in, all so that the only night she doesn’t work is Monday, and that’s only because Dot had frowned after she’d asked about Dotty’s work schedule. Not that she can blame her Gran, really. Hearing that your only granddaughter works in a garage every weekday and works in nightclubs every week-night, including weekends, she supposes she’d frown too. There is a silver-lining though, her weekends are free during the day, so she can sleep the entire day and get up to go on a walk around the park with Gran during the afternoon before hopping back into bed, pretending that this means she’s getting enough sleep.

Tonight feels different, though, and there’s a second where Dotty forgets why. Then remembers that in a few hours it will be Friday and that means in a few hours it will be her birthday. She stares up at the E20 sign, blaring neon into the dark. (Happy birthday, indeed, she thinks. Unbidden, thoughts of tea parties and teddies come forward. Times when her birthday wasn’t celebrated by serving drinks to those already drunk and trying to dodge a sleaze who’s hitting on her, but rather with eating cake until she felt ill and staying up past her bedtime. Now all she wants is to have a bedtime.)

She’s going to turn nineteen in a few hours, and unbidden the thought of her father springs to the forefront of her mind, the thought of where he is. It’s an old box to poke that lurks at the back of her mind, and she doesn’t want to poke it, not right before a long shift when already she feels exhaustion lining her joints. But it’s hard not to when she realises that in a few hours it will be fourteen years since she last saw him.

It’s weird how she doesn’t remember the last time she saw him; it should be the thing that plays on repeat in her mind, maybe him walking out to grab something and never coming back, or him putting her to bed, those few seconds of him standing in her bedroom door, back-lit by the hallway before she never saw him again. But – nothing. She remembers grinning at him over a stack of pancakes and running around after her friends dressed as a witch because Gran said she could have a dress up party for her fifth birthday party, and then she woke up the next morning and never saw him again. (She supposes it doesn’t really matter in the end, considering he’s gone either way, but her eyes sting anyway, unbidden.)

Dotty pinches the bridge of her nose. There’s no point lingering on such things, she had tried for years, foolishly believing that if she just thought about him hard enough then he’d come back, but it never worked and by the time she turned ten she had turned to actively hating him and hoping he was dead wherever he was, never flinching when Gran spanked her for voicing such thoughts.

(The secret is that she never meant it, and would cry herself to sleep with her face buried into the soft teddy he had bought for her once, pretending she didn’t notice how Gran would pack something sweet for her lunch the next day.)

She sighs and between mentally putting a wall up between herself and all thoughts of her father and staring up at that neon sign that she feels everything tilt and before she can panic about her body finally giving out from the constant abuse she puts it through, she blinks and she’s in a ballroom, her feet are stiff in her heels and her dress tucks in at her waist before puffing out so far that she can’t let anyone within a foot of her body and she’s being spun around and around and God, Hunter is looking over, play it cool, play it cool, everything is perfect and so is he and he’s looking and this could be it, everything is -

Dotty stumbles and almost falls, clutching her stomach and feeling terrified that she’d feel tulle but it’s just her ratty, holey t-shirt. She stands, trembling, for a few seconds, wondering if she’s gone insane or having a fucking stroke or something, desperately trying to remember what the symptoms of a stroke actually are.

Someone who’s about to enter the club stops to stare at her. Probably one of her co-workers, she doesn’t mingle enough to really know any of them, not even their names. “You alright?” he calls, frowning in concern at her.

She feels her back stiffen and forces herself to stop shaking, her muscles tensing as she makes herself move and shove past her maybe-co-worker. “I’m fine,” she snaps.

He steps back to avoid being pushed by her. “Woah, just asking!” he shouts after her and she ignores him, speed-walking to her locker and jamming all her belongings into it except her apron that she ties to her waist as she heads to the bar.

Her boss, Ruby, throws her a sharp look. “You’re late,” she says, finishing up a stock take, placing her clipboard on the bar in front of her to fully focus her attention on Dotty. “We open in fifteen, you were meant to be here five minutes ago.”

“I forgot my phone at home and had to run back for it,” Dotty lies, not looking up from where she’s started to wipe down the counter, going faster to try and make up for lost time, already feeling the bitterness of the apology on her tongue but thinking about the gas bill tucked in her dresser at home that she needs to be able to afford and decides to tack on a, “Sorry.”

She hears Ruby sigh but doesn’t look up, not even when Ruby stands right next to her and she can feel her eyes boring into the side of her head. “Dotty, if everything is too much, and you need to take the night off –”

“Everything is fine,” Dotty cuts her off, forcing her voice to be even when all she wants to do is snap because she cannot lose this job, she just can’t, there's too much riding on it, on everything. “I’m fine and I’m able to work tonight and the rest of my shifts.” She still doesn’t look up and watches her hand moving in circles as if someone else is doing it. She still feels too tense but knows she won’t calm down until Ruby stops staring at her.

Ruby sighs again (She does that a lot around Dotty). “Well, happy early birthday.” She leaves before Dotty can respond, which she was not going to anyway because she’s found her throat tight all of a sudden.

After she finishes prepping for customers, they all start to trickle in and then it’s like she blinks and she’s overwhelmed, not daring to take a second to catch a breath amidst the onslaught of drinks being poured and tips accepted and cash shoved haphazardly into the register.

The hours blur along with the music and the bright lighting, until she feels weightless, drifting along, pushed along by a current of people as she spins bottles in her hands. She doesn’t feel like herself here, here is just a bass that thrums in her ribcage and bounces her head.

Then all too soon it’s over and the music cuts off as people start trickling out just how they entered and Dotty wipes down the counters again, dodging Ruby’s eye as she clocks out and steps out into the world again.

It’s four in the morning, Dotty has been nineteen for four hours and barely noticed, and she has work again in five hours.

She feels the concrete through the thin soles of her boots, flexes the tendons of her feet. Breathes.

Exhale.

And Dotty moves.

//

Louise thinks for the amount of shit women get when they like dressing up in dresses and wearing high heels for events because it makes them ‘bimbos’ or whatever, is fucking ridiculous considering how difficult it actually is. She can feel the blisters forming on her heals despite the plasters she’s wearing and the constant vigilance she has to make sure she doesn’t trip over the hem of her dress is impressive, ok, and she makes a mental note to actually just beat up the next man that implies that she’s stupid just because she likes looking pretty.

There’s a hand around her elbow and she twitches, forcing down a gut reaction because the thought of breaking someone’s nose at the ball for her own birthday would probably haunt her for years.

It’s Ben, grinning at her and only looking slightly haggard but still in a suit, like he said he would. “Surprised to see me?” he asks.

She throws her arms around his shoulders and he hugs her back even though she knows how much tulle she’s in, just how puffy it is around her waist. “Well, you said you’d get off work early but I didn’t think you could actually do it, Dad seemed angry when he assigned you whatever you were doing.” She pulls back to brush off his shoulders, marvelling at how quickly he can get a suit dirty.

Ben’s smile almost falls off of his face before he plasters it back on, back to being all charm and easy going grins that are only 60% teeth. “Yeah, well, he didn’t account for me having friends in high places.” He winks but she can tell he doesn’t want her to ask any more questions about what he was doing earlier tonight.

So, she tucks her hand into his arm and starts leisurely strolling around the ballroom, milling through the mass of people all dressed in the best clothes they all own. “So, is Callum here with you tonight?”

Ben shakes his head as he grabs some glasses of champagne, handing her one and sipping the other one himself. “That’s a no, he’s at home with Lola and Jay, and I am just desperate to get home to him – ” here, he gives a weighted look to show her his meaning, “ – so I hope you don’t mind me skipping out on you after midnight and all the appropriate happy birthdays have been said.”

Louise makes a noise of disgust and shoves his shoulder and tries not to smile while he laughs at her. “Fine, fine, you only need to be here and mingle for – ” she grabs his other hand to look at the watch on his wrist, feels his muscles twitch, just like her's, “ – a half hour! Perfectly manageable, I’m sure, you’ll be able to cope, yeah?”

“Anything for you, dear sister,” he smarms and cackles at her disgusted look as he tugs her into the centre of the dance floor with the throng of people dancing. He adjusts his grip until they’re standing in the appropriate stance for a waltz and begins dancing with her, catching her looking at him, impressed. “What? Why is everyone so surprised I know how to dance?”

“Because you’ve told all of us, multiple times, that you’d rather shoot yourself than dance,” she shoots back. “Poor Callum, how is he going to cope when he finds out you’re actually capable of dancing but have pretended you can’t, just so you don’t have to dance at your own wedding?”

“Ha ha,” Ben replies, rolling his eyes as he spins her and catches her when she spins back to him. “Fine, I have decided to change my stance to ‘I can dance, I just have decided that no one should ever do it’.”

“Well, then, why are you dancing with me?”

Ben looks away from her, taking in the glass chandelier and the floor to ceiling windows that show the view of a perfectly cut hedge maze. “Maybe I like enough to put up with it,” he replies, eventually, eyes carefully not looking directly at her.

She smiles and squeezes his hand to let him know that she understands. He looks at her and smiles back and she thinks she loves her brother almost as much as she did when she was five and he put a plaster on her skinned knee after she had fallen off of her bike.

Over Ben’s shoulder, she can see another couple and feels herself tense with anticipation when she make eye contact with the male dancer who spares her a quick smile which she returns without a second thought, feeling herself start to get flushed.

Ben twists around to see what she’s looking at and immediately starts laughing. “Oh, Jesus, do you still have a crush on Hunter Owen?”

“Shut up!” she hisses, interrupting their dance to yank him away, out of ear shot from Hunter and Ben stumbles after her, giggling away as she pushes her way through a crowd of people before they part from her.

As she marches up the stairs to get to the destination she has in mind: the balcony of one of the many bedrooms in this empty hotel (Dad definitely rented out the entire place even though it is massive, just so she could have the whole place for her party and she reminds herself to get him before it turns midnight so she can hug him and thank him by spending the first few minutes of her birthday with him), Ben continues to cackle behind her. “God I thought you got over him years ago, oh wow, this has been the best part of my night by far.”

She shoves him into the bedroom and storms over to the balcony, welcoming the cool air on her skin before she turns to Ben and crosses her arms. He strolls over to her and leans against the balcony, still looking smug. “I’ll have you know, I don’t have a crush on Hunter anymore,” she informs him.

“I see, so you dragged me all the way up here just to tell me that?” he asks, still looking like an asshole. She sniffs and doesn’t respond. “Ok, ok, it’s fine if you still like him,” he ignore her objecting and starts speaking louder, “But are you fine with liking him considering he’s a massive dick?”

“Says you,” Louise snaps.

“So, you admit he’s an asshole?” Ben shoots back.

“He’s not –” Ben raises an eyebrow. “He’s not completely an asshole. He’s nice to me.”

Ben sighs and looks at the view, bracing his forearms on the balcony. “I just think you could do better than him,” he murmurs.

Louise wants to roll her eyes and say something mean, her temper still simmering her blood, feeling like her dad for a second. She opens her mouth to, poison on her tongue but suddenly Ben isn’t there and she’s in a vehicle, looking over at the driver, mouth open to yell when she sees him swear and twist the steering wheel and she feels airborne, looking out the windshield as it comes closer to the back of another vehicle than it should before they’re spinning and her mouth is still open but she’s screaming as the sky becomes the ground becomes the sky goes up then down and her head has slammed into window next to her and he tastes blood and oh fuck –

Ben shakes her and she feels like she’s fallen fifty feet back into her massive dress and high heels and she wants to vomit but she shoves her head onto Ben’s shoulder and he wraps his arms around her for a second time that night as she tries to steady herself.

“Are you ok, what was that?” Ben asks and he sounds as worried as he does when he talks about Lexi and Callum and Jay and Lola, and isn’t that a high place to be placed by Ben, huh?

She just shakes her head and lets herself be held until her phone beeps in the hidden pocket of her dress to let her know that it’s ten minutes until her birthday. She pulls back and shakes her limbs out. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing.” Ben clearly doesn’t believe her with a doubtful look on his face but she waves him away. “Just got shaky for a second there, can you give me a minute? I’ll be right down.”

“Lou, you looked like you were about to start screaming –”

“Ben. Please.”

Ben stares at her for a second and she doesn’t know what he sees but it’s enough because he nods his head and leaves with a final kiss on the top of her head and she decides to forgive him for maybe messing her hair up when he did it.

In the silence of the bedroom, Louise breathes deeply and wonders what her mum would tell her. To put herself back together, brick by brick, and act like nothing had happened.

She opens her eyes, and does just that.

//

Keegan kicks the beer can in front of him and it clatters into the gutter. He waits a few seconds before he sighs, picks it up and chucks it into the bin.

He can imagine Bernie smiling at him for being decent as if he didn't just do the bare minimum and scoffs to no one. Scuffs his shoe on the concrete and can hear his mum chiding him for trying to ruin his shoes.

He figures that he’s misplacing his anger at his thoughts of his family’s reactions to his actions to ignore the fact that he’s actually ashamed that he’s spending his entire birthday in another city without them and can’t stop remembering how their faces fell when he told them, but he doesn’t want to get that introspective right now if he’s completely honest.

He’s waiting for his friend – ‘friend’ being a loose term used here – to drive him to Manchester for a flat viewing he’s got tomorrow that he booked a couple of weeks ago. His friend is only taking him because he’s picking up something that he refused to get specific about – coke probably and Keegan pretends that doesn’t bother him – and would be going anyway.

(His mum hadn’t been happy when he told her he was moving to Manchester and told him so; told him all the risks that come with Manchester and him being alone in a city where he doesn’t know anyone, but most importantly, to Keegan at least, was her pressing him into a hug and patting his cheek. “I love you, eh?” She phrased it like a question and Keegan had nodded in answer and she had smiled like the sun.)

The question his whole family had asked was this: why Manchester?

He couldn’t explain it fully – he had given a variety of answers though, ranging from ‘I just love Manchester United that much, I guess,’ for his dad, and ‘Starting a business in a big city has to be better than starting one here, right? Bigger market and all that,’ for his siblings.

The real reason was this: he didn’t know. It eluded him, but it was this gut feeling he had, a stirring underneath his skin that gave him goose pimples; your life is in Manchester, it said.

So, here he was, a few hours before he turned nineteen, waiting for his friend to pick him up so he could stay in a hotel for the night because he didn’t trust his friend to drive him to his viewing punctually if they did the journey tomorrow.

His mistrust was rightfully given, considering he’s already an hour late.

Finally, after another half an hour in which Keegan googles how much jail time you can get for murder, and then tries to work out if he can get arrested just for googling that, his friend finally pulls up in front of him in his beat-up van.

The friend is called Rocket, the van is also called Rocket. Keegan decides to never talk about it out loud unless directly threatened with bodily harm.

“Alright, mate?” Rocket the Person asks, grinning toothily, several of teeth ironically missing.

Keegan nods his head in greeting and grabs his duffel bag and gets into the passenger seat, immediately setting about falling asleep after the appropriate ‘how are you’s’ are exchanged.

Rocket the Person doesn’t get Keegan’s loud hint of literally setting his feet on the dash and shutting his eyes, and starts talking about some woman he was speaking to last night and what they got up to in his flat, “If you know what I mean?” he adds with a wink that Keegan ignores.

(He can’t stop remembering Bernie’s voice when she whispered, “Did you have to book it for your birthday?” Because the answer is no, he didn’t have to, he chose to after an argument that he can barely remember that he had with his dad and booked it with the thought of how cool it would be to wake up in Manchester on his birthday and not have to see anyone he knew, caught up in the small town feeling that chokes, knowing that everyone knows you and your business. He hadn’t thought much about how the argument would blow over and he would reconsider this plan and actually want to spend his time in that small town he grew up in.)

Rocket the Person continues on, and Keegan tunes him out, watches as they enter the highway, checks his phone and sees that he has a couple hours until its his birthday but Keanu has already texted him a happy birthday and feels himself smile before he tucks his phone away after typing out a response, knowing that Rocket would make a gross comment about his grin that he doesn’t want to hear because it'll spoil his mood.

Rocket the Van rumbles beneath them and Keegan feels it vibrate through the back of his heels laid on the dash and up the back of his legs all while the other Rocket has moved onto how his friend’s bird is a tease; Keegan forces his face not to slip into a scowl and thinks back to his google search and how it hadn’t covered causing car accidents and briefly considers yanking the wheel to try and kill them both to end this conversation.

He snaps when Rocket reaches over to playfully push his shoulder, turning to yell at him to shut up and just leave him alone because they're not actually friends, can he just realise that already, but when he looks over Rocket isn’t there, there’s just a dark field and he’s not sitting in the passenger seat of the van, he’s standing with a shovel in his hands. He stares down at himself, baffled, and sees in the faint moonlight that he’s no longer wearing his t-shirt and soft sweats but rather dark overalls with darker splotches down the front. Before he can figure out what the stains are, he looks at the shape on the ground in front of him and it hits him like a freight train that it's a dead fucking body and he’s standing next to a grave and he’s digging it and god, his face feels sticky with what’s probably blood and he hates herself, she’s awful and she wants to be anything but this -

-and suddenly he’s back in the van but the rumble of the engine is gone and Keegan can barely inhale sharply before he realises that the van is airborne as in flipping over because the trees are upside down and he can see the cars next to them right before he crashes right into them and he thinks he’s going to fly right out of his seat and through the windshield and he’s screaming at the top of his lungs before he hits the glass and that’s it.

//

Ash holds a cigarette between her fingers and wonders if she’s going to pick up smoking. She’s sitting on the edge of a ledge next to a window in a warehouse, a somewhat haunting silence filtering through the open space that Ash finds somewhat comforting. She does this every time she gets a job – consider smoking, that is – and she goes through her mental list of why she shouldn’t like she always does:

Smoking will most likely give her a chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and she doesn’t really want to deal with that and all that comes with it if she’s honest. Also, hacking up her lungs every few minutes seems extremely distasteful.

She doesn’t really want to take smoking breaks with Carl who leers and has yellow teeth and yellow fingers. She suspects that if she was alone with him for a prolonged period of time, he would leave with broken bones.

She doesn’t want to give up anymore of herself, because that’s what this would be: a sacrifice of herself, her willpower. She’d be giving it up and the list of things controlling her would be longer and she doesn’t know if she can take that.

But on the other hand:

She is so fucking tired.

She twists the cigarette and wonders if her entire list of reasons to not smoke will yield to the sheer exhaustion that has settled into her bones. Resisting is killing you, is what Vinny told her the other day. He’s right, but Ash thinks she might be dead before she can admit it, which she supposes is his entire point, which is annoying.

There’s a distant rumbling noise that gets louder until there is a van pulling into the open doors and coming to a stop a few feet in front of her. She focuses on the cigarette between her fingers and doesn’t look up even when two boots appear in front of her.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ben Mitchell says to her, shifting so that he is standing with his arms crossed, leaning back. It’s too casual, too put on, he’s hiding how he really feels about this assignment. (She hates that her mind works to pick apart body language like that, people's secrets should be their own, not her's to pick apart from their stance.)

She sighs and tucks her cigarette back into the packet and stands up to put it in the back pocket of her overalls. “I don’t,” is all she says as she brushes past Ben and heads to the back of the van and yanks the doors open.

There’s tarp wrapped in a cylinder inside alongside two shovels and Ash wants to cry but beats down the feeling. She hasn’t cried when given clean up duty for three years now. Fuck, she realises. She’s turning nineteen in two hours and she has to bury a dead body for her family. She'll probably still be doing this when it’s tomorrow, when she is meant to be celebrating.

She scrubs a hand down her face, trying to scrape away any traces of emotion even though she knows her poker face will stay firmly in place now matter what because that was how she was raised, but still, the last thing she needs is Ben Mitchell reporting back to his family that one of the Panesars is cracking and the next thing they know, they’re dealing with a coup.

She realises her thought process sounds like her mother, calculating at the head of the table as she orders about the rest of the families. It won’t last, is what Ash always thinks. There are five families joined together for their ‘business’ and eventually they’ll get tired of taking orders from Suki, just like Ash already is.

She glances over at Ben who is staring out of the window, attempting nonchalance. She can read how uncomfortable he is by how tight his shoulders are. She knows he would rather be at his sister's birthday party, who is also turning nineteen tomorrow.

The harsher side of Ash wants to say ‘tough’. It’s not like she wants to either, she didn’t volunteer to do this. This is a punishment for storming off from dinner last night after an argument with her mother about letting her go to medical school. Ash wants to go to Manchester and move out but her mother firmly denied this request and told her she could go to business school here in London, that she would not see her daughter tending to the men like those worked here as if she were below them. It had become a sore point, something Ash brought up at the table every time she wanted to dig her teeth in and bite. Her mother had assigned her this job this morning and Ash could see a glint in her mother’s eyes and knew exactly what it meant. It said: I will tell you to do this, and you will. I am in charge here and you have forgotten. Ash feels bitter; why should Ben Mitchell be allowed pity when Ash is spared none?

But Ash wasn’t all teeth, she wanted to go to medical school to help people. She could feel it in her bones, a bare kindness that she had nursed for years, took cares to make sure that it never disappeared no matter what she had to do for her family. It asked her: what has Ben done to be punished like this, like you? Your punishment is unjust, surely his is as well? She knew vaguely that Ben had a fiancé and a kid and an entire family outside of his other family that operates with her own. What was the point of forcing him here, when he had somewhere to go, unlike her?

“Listen, you take off, alright?” She says, and clambers into the van and tosses one shovel out and starts pushing the body out, feeling vaguely ill at how much it gives underneath her weight through the tarp.

“What?” Ben asks and appears just as the body falls out of the van and he pales at the snap they both hear as the body bends in a way it shouldn’t.

“You take the van and I’ll deal with this,” she repeats, not looking at him as she straps the shovel to her back with a clip on her backpack – not her first rodeo – and shifts the body so its back in a way that gives the person some dignity.

“There’s no need, I’m fine,” Ben snaps, posture shifting again, leaning forward towards Ash. Defensive, her mind supplies.

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” she replies, brushing her hair back from her face as flyaway strands start to stick to the sweat she’s already starting to build up. “Just, I know how to do this and you should go to your family. It's your sister's birthday, right?”

He stares back at her and she thinks he’s going to argue more, but he seems to falter and for a second she can see the yearning on his face. He really loves his family, she thinks to herself, both of them. “Won’t they know I wasn’t here though?” Ben asks.

She shrugs. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she starts to grin and holds up a hand for a fist bump.

He holds her gaze for a few seconds before he grins too and bumps his fist against hers. They’re both wearing gloves but she likes to think that she could feel the heat from his hand touch hers for a second. Her chest feels lighter as he shuts the doors and clambers into the van, waving at her as he drives back out the front door, a ‘Later, Ash!’ floating in the air behind him.

Her smile slowly slides off her face and is gone by the time the silence returns and she doesn’t like it anymore, not now she remembers what it’s like to have someone speaking to you and fill that space.

She turns and starts dragging the tarp out of the warehouse and into the fields surrounding it. She can’t bury it too close to the building, otherwise the chances of it being uncovered are higher as more people will walk over it, she needs a more obscure part of a field, somewhere someone would rarely walk over in order to notice that anything was off about the land.

Ash sets her eyes on a distant spot and starts dragging the body.

She feels the strain of it in her forearms, a pull that runs up and through her whole body until she sweats through her overalls and she reaches up to wipe sweat off her face to stop it from dripping into her eyes but when she does her face feels stickier than before and she looks down and sees the blood is leaking through the tarp where her glove-covered hand is digging in for grip and feels herself gag but refuses to falter.

She digs her feet in and continues and can’t help the spiteful, I can do this because you can’t, you couldn’t handle the pain in my legs right now but I can, that she directs to her mother.

Finally, she reaches the spot she had decided on and starts digging, not allowing herself a break because if she stops to think then she’ll have to confront that this person might have a family who cares about them and she’s got their blood on her face, and she can't cope with that, she can't do it, she can't cope with all of this blood on her hands, literally and metaphorically.

She realises she’s crying, a quiet keening noise coming from the back of her throat, and a cold voice supplies that there’s now DNA of hers at the scene of the crime but she can’t care, she can’t, it’s too much and she wants to throw the shovel down and wait here until someone catches her with a dead fucking body and arrests her and she can tell them about every terrible thing she has ever done for her family and they have done themselves and then they can all go to jail together and she can deal with her mother’s rage behind bars because maybe that’s the only way to win.

(Remember when winning was beating Jags at Monopoly? Or racing Vinny to the end of the garden? Or trying to learn chess to beat Kheerat, and pretending not to notice how pleased he was whenever she made what he thought was a right move?)

She drops the shovel and braces herself on her knees and sucks in a large breath. I’m going to stand up straight, she tells herself, and when I do, I will get back to work.

She inhales again and feels every one of her muscles stretch as she stands up straight but she doesn’t see rolling fields in front of her, rather an entire crowd of people, all not underneath the moon like Ash was a few seconds ago but rather neon lights that flicker and Ash feels dizzy looking at the lights and the constant movement of the crowd. It feels easy to lose herself and let her limbs go loose and easy, let her head fall back as she laughs, the sound lost in the pounding music, her veins on fire as she thinks to herself that she's a bird, she's a bird and she's going to fly up up up, away from everything and everyone and be free -

Ash’s breath snaps in her throat as she falls backwards and doesn’t land into a pile of people who would catch her and laugh with her as she explained her bird theory, but rather, the grass beneath her rushes up to meet her and she gasps and lays still for a moment, blinking up at the dark night and wonders where that came from, where thoughts of nightclubs, and being a bird and dancing had come from.

She sighs and lets the sound of her own breath fills her ears for a few seconds before she pushes herself up and grabs her shovel from where she had dropped it.

She wants to be back in that moment, even if it was temporary insanity, because that moment of freedom, of just laughing for no reason is lingering in her throat. She wants it so badly that she could cry.

She forces the emotion down and keeps digging. No point in lingering on feelings you’ve never had.

(If her hands tremble on the shovel, then it’s a good thing no one is around to see it.)

//

There’s a moment between throwing back another pill and waiting for it to hit her, that Rebecca wonders how her mother is.

It’s a strange thought in this context; this being Becca throwing back drugs like candy in a nightclub's bathroom and this also being that she hadn’t spoken to her mother in years.

Years being two years, precisely; Becca is a fan of technicalities.

She presses her forehead against the wall of her stall and sighs, starting to feel her muscles loosen up, and lets the thought of Sonia sitting alone every night since she left slip from her mind in favour of the thought of the dance floor just outside the bathroom.

(Besides, Sonia lives with Whitney, so she’s not actually alone. Technicality.)

She stands up and brushes herself off, fingers scratching against the sequins that make up her top, her bare back chilly from the air conditioning but she knows she’ll heat up when she starts dancing again.

She exits the stall and smiles at the other women standing at the sinks before she stares at her reflection. The girl looking back at her has glitter running down her cheeks from underneath her eyes like she’s been crying pure glitter and her hair curls around her shoulders, but she can see where the curls are already starting to fall out. The girl grins at her, and Becca grins right back.

It’s her birthday in a couple hours, she realises as she checks her phone on her way out of the bathroom and she wonders if her mother is going to celebrate for her, without her. Probably not, Sonia was never the sentimental type, not one for lighting a candle for those who are gone. (Is Bex gone? She wonders if her mother pretends she’s dead instead of having to confront the truth that is her daughter ran away from her, exchanged parental love for molly. Wonders if her mother pretends she's dead because that hurts less.)

As soon as she opens the door, the sound of music hits her, loud and heady and slamming right into her chest and she feels breathless as she stumbles into the thick of it, feeling like a lightning bolt whenever her arm brushes against someone else’s, thinking that this is how it’s meant to be all of the time.

She spins around, the bass of the music cradling her skull, her arms loose and she can see everyone around her smiling at her and returns the gesture just like she did in the bathroom, and that’s how it’s meant to be; everyone is meant to be friends like they are here.

She tips her head back and laughs and feels light off of it all, like she’s flying, up up up, and she’s bird, they’re all birds and it’s all light and flying and birds and everyone smiling at her would agree but she can’t get her tongue to agree with her which just makes her laugh more and so do they and it’s just all of it, everything.

There’s a moment between tipping backwards with laughter and trying to right herself that she feels like she stands up as someone else and desperately blinks rain out of her eyes, lifting a fruitless hand to wipe the water collected on her face as she shivers. She’s dragging herself through empty streets, feeling her clothes cling to her skin and cursing as she goes, her feet going numb through her shoes and she lost feeling in her fingers minutes ago but it feels like hours and she could cry, she wants to but she shoves the feeling down in her chest, I have to find Habiba, is what replaces it because it’s all that matters and –

Becca gasps, feeling shoved back and falls backwards, feeling hands around the skin of her waist where her jeans don’t cover and it doesn’t feel like before where everyone was her friend, it feels like nails digging in and twisting, it feels like hands yanking on her wrists, like a voice hissing at her to snap out of it, all bared teeth.

The people around her aren’t smiling anymore (were they ever? Becca feels scrambled like she’s lost something, like an arm in the bathroom, or a leg in Sonia’s living room) and she feels like her chest is open when she pulls away from the hands on her waist and tries to run for the exit, and only crashes into a few people before she’s outside gasping for breath. She's standing in the alleyway next the club and she catches the sight of rain falling in the main street just as a few drops manage to get through the fire escapes on the side of the building next to her to land on her head.

She throws herself forward, landing harshly on her knees but the pain feels distant like it’s not her body but the acid climbing her throat burns, and she feels all of it as she heaves, throwing up all of the meagre dinner she had eaten and she’s crying and shaking and she wants to climb out of her body and leave it here because it all hurts and she’s exhausted with it all, she’s done, she wants to crawl back into her bed and have her mum on the other side of it and have her push the hair out of her face and tell her that she loves her.

That doesn’t happen and Becca stays on her knees – which she can now feel throbbing and regrets landing on them the way she did and wishes she had any care for her body – until she stops trembling and forces herself to her feet and pushes her hair out of her face. It’s her birthday soon, it’s basically her birthday, there’s a rule about not throwing up on your birthday right? Or is it about crying? Becca can’t remember but she makes a mental note to look it up, and immediately forgets.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and feels that she’s still grinning, teeth wet, lips dry.

Her mother would cry if she saw her, her daughter shivering in a gutter and smiling while she vomits. She won’t though, Becca thinks, forcing her feet to walk, one foot in front of another, over and over. She won’t because she is back in London. Technicality.

//

Iqra and Habiba created a system when they were kids, crouched together with their pinkies linked underneath a table while they waited for dinner to be ready. Iqra was all about systems and constantly followed her grandfather around, asking a non-stop stream of questions about how everything worked which made him smile until his eyes crinkled. Her newest system was this: if she or Habiba were ever in trouble, they would tell each other, A-ozu billahi mena shataan Arrajeem. Iqra had spent the entire afternoon practising her pronunciation and was finally satisfied that she had nailed it.

Habiba immediately fouled her mood by telling her that it would take too long to say, and what if she was being taken hostage and only had a few seconds to say her parting words and used up all of them on the first word, then what?

Iqra responded by whacking her sister in the face with the cushion she had been sitting on.

(Iqra got a lecture about treating her sister with kindess and the phrase was shortened to the first few syllables for convenience and Iqra, very graciously, sat and helped Habiba practice them until she got them right.)

Which is how Iqra is here, dragging herself through the rain and shivering so badly she thinks she’s about to shatter her teeth, all because Habiba texted her their emergency code.

Iqra hadn’t thought twice before throwing herself out of the door, barely pausing to yank a coat on and shoving on boots before she was out in the rain, pushing herself to run in the direction of the address Habiba had airdropped as her location.

She had briefly considered getting a taxi but the thought of standing around and waiting while Habiba needed her left her feeling wired and the second she had stopped to think about it left her feeling fried and she pushed herself to run faster as a sort of punishment to make up for it.

A-ozu billahi. It could mean anything and Iqra reminds herself that Habs once used in when she didn’t have a tampon at work and looked confused at Iqra, throwing herself into the restaurant where they both worked as waitresses, out of breath and frantically scanning her for injuries. But, Iqra reminds herself that she could actually be injured or hurt the one time she decides to take her time to get there and can only imagine how much self-hatred that would bring.

Iqra herself has never actually used their code, she realises as she skids around a corner and kicks water all up her calves and tells herself that if this actually isn’t an emergency she is going to throttle Habiba and then promptly give her the cold she is definitely going to have when she gets home.

Her feet slamming into the concrete send jolts up her legs and she feels like an exposed wire that’s frying underneath this rain, like she’s electricity that’s sparking as she runs across a road and doesn’t spare a glance backwards for the car that beeps its horn at her.

A-ozu billahi. Iqra ignores the gut feeling that tells her that something terrible has happened even thought her grandmother always told her to listen to it. She can’t give it a voice because if she does then she might be showing up to a scene that’s just – unimaginable. She can’t do it, she can’t, and tells herself instead that she actually hopes it’s just going to be Habs asking for a charger because her phone died and she’s waiting for a text from some guy.

Her hood has fallen down, and she can feel her hair plastered to her scalp and the rain runs down her head and all over her face. Some water drips into her eyes and she reaches up to scrub them, but when she brings them back down the street she was about to cross isn’t there anymore but there’s couches and food on the coffee table in front of her but she hasn’t touched any of it because she feels ill and her gran is telling a story about his dad and he doesn’t want to listen anymore because his dad is dead and he was murdered but no one is talking about it and he feels sick and god he wants to leave –

Iqra inhales sharply and stumbles back onto the pavement as a car races by, the headlights blinding her for a second as she centres herself and reaches out to steady herself on a lamppost as she tells herself that she is actually in the street she thought she was, not some suburban nightmare that has left a knot in her chest.

She wants to sit down because her head feels like it’s about to explode and she feels off balance like the world decided to tip entirely to one side without telling her but worry about Habiba feels like a firework and she’s running again before she can really think about it.

There’s only two blocks now and Iqra forces herself to go faster, her breath snapping in her lungs but it doesn’t matter, Habs does and whatever moment she just had has to be put on the back burner for her.

One final turn and Iqra is skidding to a stop in front of some abandoned house that’s crumbling at the seams and the panic is getting worse because what the fuck is Habs doing here.

She yanks the door open and almost rips it off of its rotted hinges and steps inside and in the low light that is slicing in through the holes in the roof, she can see Habiba standing to turn to her, mascara running down her face and blood on her hands and her temple.

“Iqra,” Habiba whispers, face ghastly and Iqra forces down her hysteria and what’s she’s pretty sure was about to be vomit.

A-ozu billahi, she thinks, and yanks off her jacket.

//

The thing with funerals is this: the ones the day before your birthday are always going to suck. Bobby remembers when he saw his gran realise that he would have to bury his dad and then go to sleep and wake up nineteen, how she looked like she was going to start crying again while he tried to tell her that it was ok, that he didn’t mind.

(He did. Mind, that is. But, he’d rather feel like shit on his birthday, which he was going to anyway, rather than see her burst into tears again because she couldn’t even remember when her grandson’s birthday was. That’s not fair, she has enough on her plate. But – But, don’t they all?)

The service was nice enough. A quiet affair with a red-faced minister who read some passages from the Bible and called his dad a good, honourable man a few times (Not entirely true, Bobby recalls his dad sneering at him several times during his childhood whenever he tried to express an opinion he didn’t agree with. But, Bobby supposes death allows for some of your unsavoury qualities to be brushed over).

He had sat in the front pew with his gran and Peter and Lucy who were crying, stoic and also crying in that order. Bobby also didn’t cry and thought he and Peter were setting a terrible precedent for men being allowed to express emotions everywhere but he couldn’t stop thinking about how Dad never liked church all that much and whenever they did go as a family when they remembered or Gran dragged them, he would grumble and tap his fingers impatiently the entire time.

Bobby had made a note to ask Peter if he remembered the time when Dad bumped into an old colleague of his – what was his name again? – and basically ran out of the church with them in tow, but he had forgotten around the fifth bible verse.

Once the service was done, Bobby had to stand outside with his family and shake hands with everyone else who had came and accept their condolences.

(It was all a sham, most of these people all thought Ian was the worst and now they showed Bobby their swollen eyes and snotty noses as if they had lost a limb. But, Bobby supposes they could have loved him under the annoyance and tried to shove down any frowns he had and passed them all tissues and consoled the best he could. What good would there be to be cruel?)

Then it was home and that’s where Bobby had been for the past few hours. Sitting in silence with a glass of water and a plate of untouched sausage rolls on his lap while his gran and sister let people filter through to grab something to eat and reminisce about their favourite memories of Ian before leaving and being replaced and repeat. Peter had sat next to him the entire time, his side a warm grounding point that Bobby pressed into whenever he felt like he was drowning. He keeps thinking that someone is about to say it, say that Dad was murdered but no one does. They all seem to be ignoring it, pretending that the coroner wasn't completely lying when he said that Ian just fell and hit his head and that it was just a unfortunate accident. But Peter stays silent, and Gran and Lucy are steadfastly only reminiscing and so Bobby is staying quiet about it too.

Now, a few minutes until midnight when Bobby would turn nineteen, Peter finally speaks. “So what do you want for your birthday?”

Bobby almost smiles. “If your asking because you haven’t gotten me anything, then you’ve left it a bit late,” he replies, looking at his watch and seeing it was two minutes until midnight, turning to look at Peter so he doesn’t have to think about how his dad had given him that watch when he was sixteen and told him he had to be a man now.

Peter smiles for the first time that day. “You know, I actually did get you something, I’m just scoping out if I got you the right thing.”

“Terrible detective work,” Bobby replies and they share a grin over the sound of Gran and Lucy talking by the dining table, heads close together.

Peter stands up and pats Bobby on the shoulder. “I’m off to bed, happy birthday, Bobby.” Bobby smiles for the first time that day at him.

Bobby gets up himself and heads towards the door. “Bob?” Lucy calls.

“Just getting some air,” he says, and ducks out into the cold before she can say anything else.

The cold is a shock to his system and the second his sock-clad feet touch the freezing concrete, he feels like he falls out of his body and into a nightclub, the loud music shaking him to his bones as he pours shots and slides them down the counter and bops his head as the bass makes everything feel like it’s floating but also impossibly grounded and it’s so much to get caught up in but underneath it all is this exhaustion that lines her joints and she could sleep forever but she can’t, she can’t, she has to keep moving, there’s too much, there’s too much –

Bobby gasps and almost falls back into his house but braces himself on the door frame, reaching over to yank the door shut before anyone can come see him because he’s struck with the need to be alone right now, and maybe for a while, if he’s honest. He breathes deeply for a few seconds, mind scrambling to figure out what that was, does grief make you hallucinate?

When his hands stop shaking, he pushes himself up (when did he start sitting on his front door step?) and stumbles towards his car. He remembers when he passed his driving test, when his dad smiled at him and showed him the key to this car but had held onto them long enough to give a lengthy lecture about safety and maintenance and responsibility before he actually handed them over.

Bobby unlocks the boot and looks at his hand that are shaking again, tremors starting at his wrist and knows he doesn’t want to look inside, hasn’t wanted to for the past week since they all found his dad with blood all over his face.

(Have to rip the bandage off at one point, right?)

He opens the boot and looks inside.

Right in the middle is Peter’s award for straight A’s in high school, a small statue of his school’s crest, blood staining one side of it.

The ominous monolith glowed brightly in the dark of night. The light emanating from inside allowing anyone to see the wrapped up snacks set in neat rows and make their selection. Molly stood on the concrete and craned her neck to take in the sight. So much food, just sitting there. Humans were strange creatures indeed.

The machine stood in front of a large building, a museum if she was reading the sign right. Then again, English was currently one of the subjects she was struggling with in school. But the location didn’t matter, all that mattered was that nobody was around, which meant this was her chance to get something to feed her family.

It probably wasn’t the healthiest of foods, but a single bag could feed them for a whole week. That is if her dad didn’t decide to “accidentally” eat it all himself. It’s happened a few times. It would be hard, but maybe if she planned this carefully she could transport two bags back to the park. She was already formulating a plan as she climbed into the clunky metal slot of the machine. The machine seemed to have been built with human-sized thieves in mind, so it was easy to slip past the barrier that was trying to go up as she pushed the slot open. There wasn’t enough room to fly, but there were plenty of footholds to be found which served as her way up to a bright yellow bag.

The loud crinkling of the cheap material drowned out the sound of a car pulling up in the nearby parking lot. She didn’t hear the footsteps or the sound of someone giving commands.

She did hear the explosion though, and the shaking knocked Molly from her perch causing her to plummet to the bottom of the machine. A quick spell helped her dumb down the damage of falling, only resulting in the smallest ache on her arms and legs. Molly shakily got to her feet, listening to the commotion outside.

“Go! Go! Go!” A voice shrieked followed by the loud whooping of several humans running into the building. Molly waited for several moments, her hands glowing green and ready to throw up a Silence Bubble should any return. But after what felt like a decent amount of time, she let the magic go and sighed.

“What was that all about?” She thought as she went to open the slot-

Only to find that there was no way to pull the slot open from her side. With the way it was constructed, she couldn’t get a good grip, and with the addition that it was too cramped to get any good leverage.

“Don’t be like that. I made it in time, didn’t I?” Callum whispers back, trying to play it off, but Ben is having none of it.

“Barely, you didn’t see the look on her face when she saw you weren’t sat ‘ere next to me.” Ben snipes back a little too loudly and a deliberate shush is uttered from behind them. “We’ll talk about this later, yeah?” he says, abruptly ending the conversation and ignoring Callum for the rest of the evening.

The dance goes on for another 10 minutes as kids come and go onstage. Ben barely notices them, until the finale dance and Lexi is back onstage smiling away in the front row of the group number. Ben turns to look over at Callum and he has tears in his eyes as he watches Lexi dance, and it melts the ice around his heart slightly before he turns back to watch the final moves.

After the show Ben goes back to ignoring Callum as they both wait with Lola for Lexi to come out of the dressing room. Lola, obviously sensing the tension between them, thankfully stays quiet too. The door opens and Lexi’s little form pops out, she spots the three of them right away and runs towards them and jumps straight into Ben’s open arms. He picks her up and spins her around. “You were so good, baby. My little princess is the most talented one of all. I’m so proud of you.” He’s so overwhelmed with love for her he finds himself holding back tears as he drops her back to the ground and she looks up at him from under her full lashes, full grin on display before turning her attentions to Callum.

“And what did you think, Callum?” She asks, in her most confident voice.

“You were amazing, Lex. A right little star in the making.” He chuckles.

“I’m already a star, Cal.” She huffs back, hands on her hips.

“Course you are, baby.” Ben pats her affectionately on the head and pushes her over to Lola who lavishes her with just as much love and praise. Ben gets lost in the moment as he watches the exchange.

“Right, missy- you’ve had a long day so I think it’s time we got you home and into bed and tomorrow I’ll treat you to one of your nan’s iced buns for breakfast to say well done, how does that sound?”

Ben’s moment is interrupted by the words, and by Lexi’s jump for joy at the thought of sugar for breakfast. “Go say bye to Daddy and Callum.” He hears before Lexi bumps into him and wraps her arms around his legs and holds on tight. “Bye daddy, love you.” She blows him a kiss and then does the same to Callum. “Bye Cal.” Ben blows her a kiss back and he and Callum wave their hands in her direction as she and Lola disappear around the corner.

***

Back at the house the atmosphere between Ben and Callum stiffens further, they haven’t spoken a word to one another since they left the school and things only get worse when Ben witnesses Phil mutter something to Callum that he doesn’t quite catch before Phil makes his exit out the back door.

Ben pushes past Callum without even looking at him and places Lexi’s bag down on the dining table. He starts making his way back towards Callum only to walk past him when he’s stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Ben- wait.” Callum says with a tremble in his voice as he pulls at Ben’s arm to get him to turn around. “I really am sorry.”

Ben huffs out a laugh, fired up and ready to have this out, “Sorry for what Callum? For saying you’ll be there? That you wouldn’t miss her dance, only to show up half way through and miss most of her solo anyway?” Ben spits at him, the anger he’d tried to force down earlier bubbles to the surface as the picture of Lexi’s disappointed face once again pops into his head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Callum. Not when the consequences hurt my daughter.” He pants out a breath, swipes his hand across his forehead, and forces himself to take in a few lungful’s of air.

He soon hears a distinct sniffle coming from his boyfriend’s direction and looks up to see a single tear has made its way down Callum’s face. Callum looks devastated, and the visual leaves a lump lodged in the back of his throat. It hacks away at the solid wall of ice surrounding his heart. He immediately feels awful for snapping.

Callum falters, “I-I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He manages to choke out between choppy breaths. He clutches at his chest and crumbles to the floor in front of Ben. Ben blinks back at the scene in front of him; not quite understanding the full extent of his boyfriend’s current breakdown, but also having no fucking clue what to do to make him stop crying.

Callum is on his knees with his face is buried in his hands as he cries and cries. Ben is at a loss. He knows Callum fucked up, but for him to take it this hard doesn’t seem right. Ben lowers himself to Callum’s level and places his hand gently on the back of his head to let him know he’s there. Callum takes the reassuring hand and latches onto Ben, hiding his head in the crook of his neck.

“Cal, I know you didn’t mean to hurt her, and I’m sorry for yelling- I just- I don’t understand what’s happening right now. This isn’t like you. We argue all the time and it never affects you like this, has something happened?” Callum only sobs harder against his neck, confirmation he’s not far off the mark. “Cal…babe, look at me. Please, look at me.” Ben soothes one hand down Callum’s neck and pushes his head up with the other. He wipes the excess tears off Callum’s blotchy face and slowly tilts his chin up so that he can look at him. “Babe, I’m here. Talk to me, yeah?”

Callum’s breath is still pretty rapid and shallow, but his panic attack slowly subsides as he comes back to himself. Ben lets him get a few deep breaths in before he pushes further into Callum’s space and asks him again, “what’s happened, babe? You can tell me.”

Callum opens his eyes and his bottom lip quivers as he opens and closes his mouth. No words come out. Ben runs his fingers through Callum’s now floppy hair and waits until Callum is ready.

“I’ve fucked everything up, Ben. I can’t lie anymore. Not to you.” Callum sighs in defeat.

All the blood in Ben’s face drains, his heart pumps loudly in his chest, and his breathing spikes. Ben prepares for the worst.

“Lie about what, Cal?” He asks tentatively, not entirely sure he wants to know the answer.

“I’m being blackmailed.” Callum replies, fear evident on his face.

And Ben is just confused. That wasn’t exactly what he thought would come out of Callum’s mouth, but he sits back on his knees and pauses, the confusion written all over him. Callum looks up when he realises he isn’t going to get a verbal response, so he continues. “The real reason you’re out of jail isn’t because I wiped the CCTV- it was already too late for that.” Ben watches Callum inhale deeply, “the real reason you’re free is because I was forced to make a decision, Ben.” Ben’s stomach drops. “You…or your dad.”

The pressure in Ben’s head feels like it’s about to explode. He shoots up from his crouching position and starts pacing around the room until he feels like he’s about to throw up and he has to steady himself on the arm of the sofa. He can’t seem to gather his thoughts properly, they’re all jumbled up in his brain; the white noise drowns out Callum’s frantic voice as the only coherent word running through his head screams loudly in his ear.

Betrayal.

Ben feels something touch his arm and he jolts back on instinct, lifting his eyes to see an anxious Callum try and reach for him again.

“Don’t!” Ben yells, taking another step away from his boyfriend as he tries to make sense of what Callum just admitted. Ben stops dead, the bitter taste of betrayal still ripe on the tip of his tongue as he blinks at Callum and asks, calmer than he feels,

“How could you do this to me? He’s my dad, Callum.”

“I did this for you.” Ben scoffs at the rebuttal, but Callum pushes on, “please listen to me, Ben. I did this so that you could come home. To Lexi…to me. I didn’t have any other choice. You have to believe me. My boss- he-he knows about us, saw me the day you got arrested, and he put two and two together. He knows how much I need you and that I’d do anything to keep you out of prison. And he’s using that against me by making me choose between you going down, or your dad going down. I did what I had to do to keep you safe, and I’d do it again.” Callum slowly approaches Ben and raises his hands up towards Ben’s face, who at this point hasn’t moved an inch, or let out a single breath since Callum started talking.

When Callum makes contact and Ben doesn’t pull away he carries on, “Everything I do is for you, Ben. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone ever before and I never wanted to betray you like this, but if the choice is you or Phil? There is no choice for me. It’s only ever been you.” Callum whispers the last part and lets it linger for a moment before Ben feels cold air against his cheek where Callum’s hand was just moments ago. He grabs his hand before it drops completely and without a second thought he hauls Callum into his body and smashes their lips together in a heated kiss. The high Ben feels right now surrounds him, and he starts to collapse under the weight of his emotions, but right before he snaps under the pressure Callum’s strong arms are wrapping around him to keep him steady. He feels grounded, and whole again; the once shattered pieces of his heart thread back together with each stroke of Callum’s tongue.

No one has ever put him first. No one has ever loved him as fiercely as Callum loves him. He pulls back and looks directly into his boyfriends eyes.

“No one ever chooses me.” Ben chokes on the last word.

“I do.” Callum replies, honest and sincere to his core, “I choose you.”