At the end of the show, Ben applauded, like everyone else, then sat back to watch the last two shows.

  “Did you like it?” Stan asked when they were finally done.

  Ben nodded. “The second one.”

  Stan beamed. “Yeah. That’s what Olivia sent me here for.”

  “I guessed as much. Do you want to go talk to the designer?”

  “Maybe.” Stan made a face.

  “Why not?”

  “We can just slip out now, if you want.”

  Ben wanted. But he could keep pushing for a little while longer. “No, you should go talk to them.”

  “Okay.”

  Stan slipped his hand into Ben’s and squeezed, then didn’t let go while he went to find someone with a clipboard to make an introduction.

  Stan’s name was enough to get them backstage. At that point, Ben realised that Stan was now a pretty big fucking deal in the fashion world. He’d been on the up-and-up when everything went to shit in their relationship. The same clearly hadn’t been the case for his career.

  “Stan.”

  Stan’s hand fell from Ben’s.

  “Colin, it’s good to see you.”

  He exchanged kisses on the cheek with an older guy wearing a tan suit with a very loud shirt under the jacket.

  “You’re here to meet Nadia, of course.”

  “Yes. This is my friend Ben.”

  Ben shook hands with Colin. Colin didn’t have a fucking clue who Ben was. Ben smiled at him widely.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Colin turned back to Stan. “You know, Nadia was something for a prodigy while she was with us. I think she’s going places, don’t you?”

  Stan reached back blindly as Colin led them farther into the backstage area, and Ben gripped at his fingertips. He was a little fascinated about the similarities between backstage at a fashion event and what he was used to seeing backstage at a music gig. Lots of people running around. Many hands making a few people look good.

  Ben stepped to the side when Colin introduced Stan to Nadia, and leaned against a wall while Colin slipped away and Stan enthused about the collection. He forgot about Ben for a few moments, laughing with the young woman and offering high praise for her work.

  When Nadia glanced over at Ben, she did a double-take. It was maybe too much to ask for to not be recognised all night.

  “Hi,” he said, offering her his hand to shake. “I’m Ben. I’m here with Stan.”

  “Nadia. Oh my God, I can’t believe Ben Easton just watched my first show. Holy shit.”

  Ben laughed. He really didn’t mind her kind of open enthusiasm.

  “It was amazing,” he said truthfully. “I really loved that bright pink suit.”

  “You did? Holy shit. You can have it if you want. I’ll go rip it off the model and you can take it with you.”

  “Tell you what,” Ben said, fighting to keep the smile off his face, and failing. “The next time I have to go to some horrendous event with lots of paparazzi shoving cameras in my face, I’ll call you and you can let me borrow it. Then when they ask me who I’m wearing, I can say something interesting for once.”

  Nadia looked like she might burst. “That would be incredible. Oh my God. Thank you so much.”

  “Thank you for having us,” Stan said. “I’m going to write something up, but I can’t guarantee it’ll get picked up by any particular publication. If it does, I’ll make sure you know. And congratulations, again.”

  Nadia beamed and shook their hands, then reluctantly tore herself away to where a small huddle of other people had gathered to talk to her.

  “I know a back way out from here,” Stan murmured, leaning in close as he led Ben away.

  “She was great.”

  Stan grinned at him, his face lighting up. “I agree. She’s going to be really good with a few more years’ experience behind her. I think you can still see some of her mentors’ influence in some pieces.”

  “You’re talking to me like I have any idea what you mean,” Ben said, teasing him. “I just liked the pink suit.”

  “It was definitely a highlight. I think I’m going to call it vivid raspberry in my write-up.”

  “Pretentious.” Ben pretended to cough. “Bright pink works just as well.”

  Stan ignored him. “The tailoring was incredible.”

  “I’ll look good in it.”

  “Ben, you know how much it pains me to agree with you.”

  Ben bumped his shoulder against Stan’s and tried to hide his smile again.

  They arrived back at the flat at the same time Tone was heading out for the evening, to a gig somewhere with a band Ben hadn’t heard of. That wasn’t so unusual. Tone kept an ear to the ground when it came to new and emerging music, and Ben had all but given up on that.

  Ben was still tingling from head to toe. Time would tell whether tonight had been good for him or not, though he felt like it had skewed more positive. Being out in a crowd of people had set off his anxiety for years now, since he’d been mobbed at a signing event that had been set up by some cowboy who didn’t get in proper security.

  Stan had been right, though. No one there really cared who he was. Except Nadia, and she was sweet and respectful, so he was okay with that.

  Ben kicked off his trainers and went to collapse on the sofa instead of going to bed. Stan wandered around, tidying up the kitchen and changing into loose joggers before joining him.

  “Do you want to write anything tonight?” Ben asked. He reached for Stan’s legs on instinct, pulling them into his lap so he could stroke Stan’s ankles.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Stan tipped his head back, his eyes closed. “I have most of it in my head already. I’ll do better if I sleep on it to form some opinions, then write it tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Ben said. They breathed together in contented silence for a while and Ben luxuriated in the uncomplicated companionship. He’d missed this. Not just being with Stan, but having that easy relationship with someone where words weren’t necessary.

  Ben closed his eyes too. It felt like the right thing to do.

  Chapter Eleven

  For the next two days, Ben hid himself away in his room. Stan had to send Tone in with meals to make sure he ate. He didn’t seem to want to speak to Stan, or Tone, or anyone else.

  It was maybe understandable. Stan had pushed him back into the world in a big way, with lots of people and lots of things that could have gone wrong. The fact that it had all been fine didn’t seem to matter.

  Stan worked on his article and tried to understand. If Ben needed to retreat into his shell for a while to calm down and find his equilibrium again, Stan could respect that. He just wasn’t sure where the line was between giving Ben space and letting him wallow.

  On the third day, Stan woke to the sound of guitar music coming from down the hall. At first he thought Ben was playing something through his laptop. It took a while for him to figure out Ben was playing it himself, on the guitar he hadn’t touched since they got back from LA.

  For a long time, Stan lay still and listened.

  It wasn’t easy to make out the music. The bedrooms were at the other end of the flat, and Ben’s soft strumming was competing with Tone’s snoring next door. Stan thought it probably didn’t matter what he was playing. The fact that he’d chosen to pick up the guitar again at all was something of a miracle.

  Eventually his bladder won out over his curiosity, and Stan didn’t try to hide the sound of his footsteps as he went down to the bathroom. He felt guilty that he’d been eavesdropping. Ben had never minded playing his music with Stan around before… but that was before.

  When he got out of the bathroom, after showering and washing his hair, the music had stopped.

  Stan made a big, messy pile of fruit and yoghurt with honey for breakfast, with enough left over for the boys if they wanted some. He was busy, actively courting publications—both online and off—letting them know he was back in London and looking for work. He’d set up a video-call with his senior editor back in New York too, with a pitch prepared about how he could add value as a roving reporter working out of London, with easy access to the rest of Europe. They already had one on the team, but she was based in Italy. Stan was hopeful.

  Tone was still sleeping, and snoring, when Ben got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Stan glanced at the clock. It was a little after 9:30 a.m. This was good for him. Tone would likely sleep for a while longer yet, as he’d been out late the night before. Stan had heard him stumble in at around 2:00 a.m.

  Whatever it was Tone was up to in London, it kept him out of the flat for most of the afternoons and evenings. He didn’t talk to Stan about much, though not in a malicious way. Stan was still trying to figure out whether Tone was wary around Stan now, or if he just didn’t want Ben to overhear their conversations. Tone had always been slightly mysterious about what he got up to. He’d never stayed still for very long, so Stan wasn’t too worried about him. It wouldn’t surprise Stan at all if Tone had gone and got a job pulling pints somewhere.

  When Ben padded through to the kitchen, Stan looked up from his laptop.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Morning.” Ben went and turned the kettle on, then turned to Stan and held up a hand. “Look, before you say anything, I want to say something.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a dick the past couple of days. I was having what Summer calls a moment.”

  “You’re allowed to have a moment,” Stan said. “Or several, for that matter.”

  Ben snorted. “Thanks.”

  “There’s breakfast in the fridge if you want it. And you don’t need to apologise, Ben.”

  “I do,” Ben said. He went to the fridge and took the bowl of fruit out. “I’m living in your fucking flat and treating it like a fucking hotel.”

  “No, you’re not.” Stan laughed. “Trust me, I’ve had worse housemates.”

  “Me too.”

  Ben made his tea, then came to sit at the table with Stan to eat his breakfast.

  “Are you feeling better now?” Stan asked cautiously.

  “Yeah.”

  Stan didn’t want to push him. He’d already learned that Ben would share in his own time, if he wanted to, and if he didn’t there wasn’t much anyone could get him to do to open up.

  When he was finished eating, Ben took Stan’s empty dishes with his own and put the dishwasher on, then stood in the kitchen and fidgeted.

  “Stan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need to go out. To get a phone. I broke mine.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to come with you?”

  “Yes, please.” Ben sounded relieved. At least part of that was likely because he didn’t have to ask. Stan had offered.

  “I don’t know how this works,” Stan admitted. “Do you want to try and recover your old phone number and all your stuff?”

  “No,” Ben said immediately. “No, there’s people on my contacts list that….”

  He trailed off, and Stan got it.

  “Starting over, then.”

  “Yeah. That would be good.”

  “Give me maybe half an hour, and I’ll be ready,” Stan said. Ben nodded and disappeared back to his room to put proper clothes on.

  Stan had dressed that morning in skinny jeans, rolled up at the ankle, and a loose T-shirt that cut off at his midriff. All the rest of his clothes were in Tone’s room, and he wasn’t about to disturb Tone while he was sleeping, so it would have to do. This had become something of his standard summer outfit over the past few weeks, uninspired as it was. He definitely needed more clothes if he was going to start meeting with fashion publications in London.

  Stan brushed his hair and found his huge, bug-eyed sunglasses, and left them perched on his head while he quickly researched phone shops in the area. Ideally he wanted somewhere they could get in and out quickly, without people paying them much attention. Even better would be somewhere that would close for an hour while Ben got what he needed, but Stan had no idea how to even set that up.

  Dealing with Ben now was definitely different to dealing with Ben before.

  Despite the warmth of the day outside, Ben came out of his room wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, to go with his black jeans and black trainers. He looked like a moody goth teenager. Stan decided not to tell him that.

  “Any idea on where you want to go?” Stan asked as he let them out of the flat and locked the door behind them. He’d left a note on the kitchen counter telling Tone what was going on.

  “Doesn’t matter. We don’t have to go to the Apple store or anything.”

  “There’s a phone shop on the high street, but it’s going to be crowded out there,” Stan said. “I thought we could get a car and go somewhere that’s probably going to be quieter.”

  “Like where?”

  Stan shrugged. “We can ask the driver.”

  “Yeah. Alright.”

  He sounded like a moody teenager too, and Stan actually did want to pass that message on. Instead of winding Ben up, like he would have done before, he pulled up the app on his phone and flagged a car.

  It had pulled up outside by the time they got downstairs. Getting a cab in London now was a hell of a lot easier than it used to be.

  Stan explained what they wanted, and the driver didn’t seem to think their request strange at all. That, or he didn’t care, as he took them north out of Camden and into a much quieter high street in a mostly residential area.

  “Thank you,” Stan said gratefully as he ushered Ben out of the cab.

  They were the only people in the shop, apart from two guys who looked immensely bored. Of the two, one’s eyes widened when they caught sight of Ben. Stan walked up to the other.

  “We need to buy a phone,” he said frankly.

  “Sure. What do you want?”

  Stan looked over at Ben. “What do you want?”

  “Just… give me the latest iPhone. Or whatever.”

  “Sure. You want to get that on a payment plan?”

  “No. I’ll pay cash.”

  “What colour do you want?”

  Stan gently ushered Ben into a seat before he could explode. “It doesn’t matter,” he said to the phone shop guy, offering him a winning smile.

  Stan could see the other guy furiously texting on his own phone, and stared him down when it became clear he was trying to take a photo of Ben without them noticing. Stan could glare daggers with the best of them. The guy looked suitably cowed.

  It didn’t take long to get the phone, and Ben wanted them to set it all up so he didn’t have to bother, so Stan played the part of bored girlfriend while all that was happening. He was good at that. He’d had plenty of practice.

  Thankfully, a much, much older man came into the shop to ask a question about his frankly ancient phone, which distracted the guy who did know who Ben was for long enough that Stan was sure they weren’t going to walk outside to hoards that had gathered because of a tweet.

  Ben was shaking a little when they got outside, his phone tucked safely in the pocket of his jeans. Stan had put all the packaging and stuff in his bag, for safe keeping, because he was pretty sure Ben was going to leave it behind otherwise.

  “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked. “We’re not far from Hampstead Heath.”

  “Can we get something to eat on the way? I’m fucking starving.”

  “Of course.”

  Stan followed the map on his phone, and they stumbled across a little deli selling sandwiches and pasties and sausage rolls. Ben ordered one of each. Stan just got a sandwich.

  Ben’s appetite had come back full-force, and he wasn’t eating just vegan food anymore. Stan had ordered him some protein shakes off the internet, because he was still looking incredibly unhealthy even though he was starting to put weight on again. That, and it was hard to keep up with the amount of food he and Tone could put away.

  Stan picked up a couple of cans of lemonade and made Ben wait until they got to the park and a bench with a nice view before he let Ben rip into the soft paper bags.

  “Here, let me put my number in your phone,” he said while Ben was attempting to stuff half a pasty into his mouth in one go.

  Ben grunted and handed over his phone.

  “You really should put a pass code on this.”

  “I will.” Ben chugged the lemonade, then burped. “Sorry. I’ll finish setting it up when we get home.”

  “Have you still got everyone’s phone numbers?”

  “No. But I can get them from Tone.”

  Stan shook his head. “How on earth do you get by on your own?”

  “I don’t,” Ben said, and it was too close to the truth for Stan’s comfort. “How did Tone get hold of you, anyway? I didn’t know you kept in touch.”

  “We didn’t.” Stan sipped his lemonade, then burped delicately. Like a fucking lady. “He found me on Twitter.”

  “Shit.”

  “His account was verified, so I knew it was him.” Stan took a deep breath, remembering the sheer panic that had pushed him to run out of his apartment with barely a carry-on suitcase full of things. “He sent me a message, then I gave him my number so he could call, then I came out to LA.”

  “I’m sure it was far more dramatic than that.”

  Stan huffed a laugh. It was, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Ben. “Not really.”

  “Why did you come?”

  “That’s a very loaded question.”

  “I know.” Ben wiped his hands on his jeans, and reached for his sausage roll. “That’s why I asked it.”

  “Because….” Stan debated with himself on how honest he should be. Then threw caution to the wind. “Because I know what it’s like to hit rock-bottom. When I was there, a few really amazing people leaned down and gave me a hand up again. You were one of them, and Tone, and a few others.”