An awkward pause crackled between them, and for once Rhys felt compelled to fill it. “Listen, I’ve got to get some sleep before my eyes fall out, but for what it’s worth, I’m glad it happened this way. Angelo’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Fuck off, Rhys. I’m the one who’s lucky. No one else can call you their brother. Now get some sleep and take care of yourself.”
* * *
Saturday evening found Rhys wide awake, alone, and indulging in his new favourite hobby: staring at his phone and waiting for Jevon to call. He started at home, but eventually the walls closed in on him and he decamped to the pub where they’d first met.
The bar was busy—packed with men looking for a good time. Few were alone, and if they were, it didn’t stay that way for long.
Rhys kept his head down as he pushed through the crowds, hardly noticing the swathes of bare skin and the distinct smell of any establishment stuffed with this much testosterone. He got a pint and settled in a corner, head down, thumbing through his phone, ignoring any fool who interrupted him.
The message thread between him and Jevon kept him occupied for a while. Jevon had been busy most days since they’d parted ways in Romford, but the evenings were a different story. Wherever Jevon was and whatever he was doing, the rum seemed to be flowing, and rum, apparently, made Jevon... chatty.
J:Wish you were here
R:Why?
J:’Cause I miss you, and...
R:...?
J:I wanna do stuff with you
R:Like what?
J:I want you to fuck me
Heat crept up the back of Rhys’s neck. Getting Angelo safely to Harry, and the realisation that it would be more than a week before he would see Jevon again, had put a pretty heavy dampener on the amazing night they’d shared. But when Jevon sent messages like that, the thrill of simply being with him—even when he wasn’t there—returned full force.
Rhys licked his lips and carried on reading.
R:How do you want me to fuck you?
J:Slowly. Maybe... I don’t know.
J:How do you want to fuck me?
J:Assuming you do...
R:I want to fuck you. If u don’t know that by now, we’re doing it wrong
J:Doing what?
And just like that, the recycled thrill dancing through Rhys fell off a cliff. Talking to Harry, and multiple texts from Dylan, had put the nature of his relationship with Jevon at the front of his mind, but he was no closer to defining it. No closer to wanting to because every train of thought stopped at the same station—the one where Jevon left. Just like everyone else that Rhys had ever cared about.
He put his phone away and bought another drink, trying to push the maudlin thoughts out of his mind. Jevon had never promised him anything, and Rhys had never asked. And dear god, if he wasn’t tired of the wallowing loop playing in his brain.
Fuck this shit.
Downing his drink, he pulled his phone from his pocket and shot Jevon a message.
R:Call me when you’re free. I’ve got an idea.
* * *
Jevon called just after midnight. Rhys was in bed, awake and waiting. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Jevon said softly. “Sorry it took me a while. It’s been a mad day.”