Free The Devil's Trill Sonata by Matthew J. Metzger Page B

a whine, and the rustling sounded again. Darren surmised it was his bedsheets. “It’s only a week until you’re here and you’re teasing me.”
    “No, teasing you would be telling you that I’m not wearing any boxers.”
    “Darren!”
    “What? I’m not.”
    “You don’t have to tell me that.”
    “Why not? I’m not wearing a shirt either. Just pyjama bottoms and my dressing gown.” And a load of NHS-branded rubber and foam, but he decided to leave that part out. “You only have to wait a week before you can see the real deal.”
    “You’re a bastard. I’m dating a bastard, and I hate you, and you’re going to hell.”
    “Yeah, the shagging blokes thing does that to you.”
    “Oh, piss off,” Jayden murmured and sighed. “I should go and do my essay. But I’m glad I got to talk to you, I know we haven’t much lately, it’s just…”
    “You’re busy,” Darren said quietly. “I get it. Go…be busy. Get degrees. All that nice stuff.”
    There was a long pause, in which the aching wasn’t coming from Darren’s shoulder but his chest.
    “I love you,” Jayden whispered.
    Darren swallowed hard. “I love you too,” he said and tried to make it not sound like a goodbye.
    * * * *
    “Have a good time!” Rachel had called from the car when she’d dropped Darren off at the station, but he’d already had his concerns by then.
    He hadn’t been able to get hold of Jayden again since that night, and had had to settle for texting the change in plans. Scott had finally gotten settled in his new flat in Northampton and had insisted Darren come to see him first. “Just us for a day, before we have to go to the ‘rents,” he’d bargained, and it had sounded okay, something to do, so Darren had agreed. He was on medical leave anyway. His arm was next to useless, and apparently the centre’s health and safety inspector had thrown a fit and refused to have him back on site until he was cleared by occupational health. For a popped shoulder. Some people didn’t deserve jobs, but to hell with it. He’d be fine by New Year.
    Scott had taken a position as an area manager, and moved to Northampton around the same time Darren had moved to Southampton. (That had been an endless source of amusement to Scott, but then, Scott was a simple-minded twerp at the best of times.) Northampton was familiar stomping ground to Scott, being where he was born and where he’d always liked to go for properly organised piss-ups, but Darren didn’t remember it. They’d left when he was three, and he’d never had any interest in going back. Scott had always intended to, though, and so Darren hadn’t been wholly surprised when he’d finally fled the nest only to end up there.
    Scott was waiting by the ticket office when Darren’s train pulled in. He was wearing sunglasses inside, because it had been his birthday two days earlier, but his whoop was loud enough to say he was recovering nicely. As a present, Darren allowed a brief hug.
    “Little bro ,” Scott cheered, ruffling Darren’s hair when they broke apart. “Happened to your arm, cripple?”
    “Training,” Darren said. “Trev decided my face looked way better on a crash mat.”
    Scott grinned. “Who won?”
    “He did.”
    “Pussy.” Scott sniggered and waved towards the door. “I brought my baby, so we can take the scenic route home. Via the pub. If you’re crippled, I might actually win a game of pool.”
    “You wish,” Darren sniped.
    In a way, despite Scott being the same obnoxious idiot he always was, it was nice to get to see him without Mother and Father bringing down the atmosphere. Scott was annoying, but he was also genuinely nice , which was a rare thing in Darren’s family. Father and Mother had come from their own kind: distant, unapproachable, and not in favour of children of any age. Scott, by contrast, had always been willing to play when they were little, and had been the closest Darren had ever gotten to a normal familial relationship.