Too Loud [1/1]
Sort of a prequel to [I'll Tell You Once...] and [The Devil You Know]...
“You said it’s over, I said that’s okay,
I wasn’t in to you anyway.”
[Darius Danesh ~ “Incredible (What I Meant To Say)”]
The plate lay in pieces between them: shards of pristine white china that marred the smooth surface of the kitchen floor, tiny fragments that Lee knew would cut, slice, maim if he stepped on them. He stood frozen just inside the doorway, staring at the remains of the crockery upon the ground, his heart rapid against his ribcage and breath sour at the back of his throat. Time seemed to stand still; hours seeming to pass where, rationally, he knew that only moments could have elapsed, and he was reluctant to lift his gaze from the smashed plate.
‘I don’t believe you just fuckin’ did that…’
‘Yeah? Well, I don’t believe I fuckin’ missed!’
The anger that emanated from Grant was almost palpable: fascinated Lee as he stood still, stared at his former lover, knew that he was the cause of the rage that flushed and twisted the face that he’d once thought beautiful. Watching Grant closely, muscles jittering with anxious nerves, Lee narrowed his eyes. ‘You just threw a plate at me, Grant.’
‘Be glad it wasn’t a fuckin’ knife!’
‘What?’ The venom in Grant’s voice was surprising; caused Lee to blink and his breath to stutter a little as he tried to refocus his thoughts. ‘You’d try to kill me? Because I’m leaving you?’
There was a moment’s pause during which Lee watched the expression upon Grant’s face contort and twist in hatred and loathing. He stood in the doorway, felt the open space of freedom lingering behind him and longed, with a desperation borne from years of suffocation to step towards it, to turn and flee. Yet he knew that he couldn’t. That it wasn’t as simple as he wished it to be. That he couldn’t leave until he’d resolved one final issue with the man who stood before him - a petulant toddler of an adult who couldn’t get his own way.
Lee sighed, felt the corners of his mouth twitch and curve into a frown. ‘Grant, you have to understand that…’
‘That you’re a selfish, two-faced, cheating slut?’ Grant demanded, laughed, the pitch of his voice bitterly pure. ‘Yeah. I understand that already, thanks!’
‘ … I just don’t want to be in the band anymore.’
‘Which you’ve made abundantly clear.’
‘So -,’ Lee hesitated; dragged a hand that shook with frustration through his hair. No matter how he phrased his desire, he couldn’t seem to make Grant realise that it was time to let him go, to allow him to move on with his professional life… to step past the final block in the dismally unsettling relationship that had consumed them both completely for several months. ‘Why won’t you understand?’
‘I understand perfectly well.’
‘Really?’ Lee felt a glimmer of hope within him. ‘Great! Then let me go, huh?’
‘I’m not stopping you.’
Gesturing impatiently towards the broken shards of crockery that lay on the floor between them, Lee glowered at Grant, felt his own anger rise like bile, thick and heavy inside of him. ‘I turn my back on you again, who’s to say that you won’t throw that hypothetical knife at me, Grant?’
‘You really think I’d do something like that?’
‘I think you’re fuckin’ unstable enough to, yeah!’
A sneer twisted at Grant’s face, distorted it enough to cause Lee to flinch back, instinctively moving away from him. At the solid sensation of the wall behind his back, it dawned upon Lee for the first time that he was inexplicably trapped.
That no matter how much he longed to, he couldn’t run from Grant.
That to run would involve spending days… weeks… months… metaphorically looking over his shoulder in case his former lover chose to drop the bombshell of his sexuality and destroy everything that Lee had spent so long carefully cultivating…
Unashamed of who he was, Lee was merely frightened that such knowledge would prevent him from being able to continue doing what he loved most - that if his new employers were to discover that he was gay, they would terminate his contract, cite their impressionable young fans as the reason why, break Lee’s heart in the process.
It had happened before.
Lee had lost count of the friends who had watched their careers whisper away into empty silence because of their sexualities. Part of the insincerely tolerant world in which they all moved. He didn’t want that to happen to him; didn’t want to have to scrape the bottom of the barrel for gigs purely because he’d fucked up and annoyed Grant enough to cause him to tell people the truth about their former living arrangements, the truth of their relationship. He didn’t want to end up like some of the people he’d started his career as a bassist alongside, didn’t want to have to run home to his parents with his tail between his legs and beg for their support…
He knew that he couldn’t run, knew that Grant was angry enough to deliberately sabotage his future in such a way. Particularly if he thought it would cause him to submissively creep back into their old patterns of behaviour. Lee couldn’t allow that to happen. He had to make the bid for freedom, break his cloying relationship with Grant once and for all.
He had to.
Sighing heavily, Lee considered how unfair it was that he hadn’t been blessed with the ability to think things through before he went diving into situations. That he couldn’t manage to look ahead and weigh up the possibilities, the consequences of his own actions with regard to matters of the heart. He knew without a doubt in his own mind that, had he possessed such an ability, he would never have fallen for Grant’s seduction and allowed himself to end up trapped.
Placed in a situation where he was literally too afraid to turn his back in case something happened beyond his realm of sight.
He’d spent weeks gradually building up the courage to tell Grant that it was over between them - both personally and professionally. That he was no longer prepared to tolerate the passive-aggressive way in which he was controlled, held responsible for each of Grant’s shortcomings, blamed for the slightest thing that went wrong even if it were nothing to do with him. He’d known for a while that he was worth more than the snide, belittling comments that Grant constantly bestowed upon him, than the constant feeling of unsettlement that he just wasn’t good enough…
He’d endured weeks of inner turmoil, silent debate within himself as to how to tell Grant that he’d been offered another contract, a better deal, and that he’d accepted it immediately… and it was only now that Lee realised that he’d already failed in his self-appointed task.
That no matter how carefully he phrased his intentions, Grant would only comprehend what he wanted to.
‘I’m not the one with the fuckin’ problems, Lee -,’ Grant’s voice was little more than a snarl. ‘After all, you’re the one who fuckin’ cheated on me!’
‘And why was that, do you think?’
The reply was simply in its brutality. ‘Because you’re a fuckin’ slut!’
‘No -,’ Lee shook his head, tried not to close his eyes and show the trembling that assuaged his body at Grant’s soft fury. ‘I went with Slade because he made me feel like I actually fuckin’ mattered, Grant. That’s something that you’ve never managed to do!’
‘Bullshit!’
Tiredly, Lee shook his head: wanted to explain that if Grant had only taken the time to understand that all he’d ever wanted from their relationship was contentment and equality, he probably wouldn’t have turned to his friend for comfort in the first place… but he knew that his former lover wasn’t yet capable of understanding such a simple fact. Slade wasn’t the problem - wasn’t even the source of the problem between Lee and Grant, but had proved to be the catalyst that had led to a state of devolved fury and base instincts that could, Lee realised, still prove disastrous to at least one of their lives…
Their careers.
‘Absolute fuckin’ bullshit!’ Grant snarled again, lurching forwards a step or two as he did so. His eyes glittered with a rage that would have - under any other circumstances - gifted Lee with a warning to be wary, and his mouth twisted with the emotion that swirled ungraciously through him. At his sides, his hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically into fists, drawing Lee’s nervy eyes towards them. ‘I gave you fuckin’ everything, Lee!’
Lee shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, his voice resigned and soft. ‘You didn’t, Grant. All you’ve done in the last few months is to make me feel second best to everyone else… everything else in your life. And I can’t take it anymore. I’ve had enough.’
‘Look, this is -,’ Grant’s voice faltered, faded as he dragged a hand through his hair. ‘You know what the worst thing about all this is, Lee? You have any fuckin’ idea?’
Lee frowned.
The sudden shift in Grant’s tone of voice wasn’t something that he felt capable of trusting, because he knew that his former lover often modulated his voice in rapid motion from furious to pleasantly conversational. Until he’d realised that it hinted at darker things that lingered beneath the surface of Grant’s veneer, Lee had thought it part of his charm, found it attractive…
He swallowed anxiously; no longer willing to hide his fear of the sublime smile and easy voice that confronted him. ‘What?’
‘That you weren’t going to tell me.’
‘I told you about Slade -,’
‘No -,’ Grant shook his head; smiled serenely at him. ‘About leaving me, I mean. Leaving the band. Taking on fuckin’ Jones’ contract over mine.’
Lee’s frown grew deeper with the confusion that he felt. He knew that he had told Grant of his decision to accept Daniel’s offer of a golden handshake contract - could remember how the actual words and the intention behind them had led them both to a point in their lives where his back was literally pressed against the wall and he didn’t know what was going to happen next. ‘What…?’
‘Leaving me for Dan.’
‘Grant -,’ Lee spoke slowly; reluctant to do or say anything that might possibly startle him from affability into violence. ‘You’ve got it wrong!’
‘Really.’
The expression in Grant’s eyes was disdainful; reverberated with boredom - yet Lee knew that it was a ruse. He recognised the shift to Grant’s conversation, the stance that he had taken for what it was; knew every nuance of the other man’s manipulative tricks because he had borne the brunt of them too many times before.
He wouldn’t allow himself to fall headlong into the emotionally abusive traps any longer.
He was worth more than that…
Shrugging his shoulders, Lee aimed for a nonchalant calm despite the fact that his heart pounded with anxiety and he could feel the chill trickle of sweat between his shoulder blades. ‘Well…’ he said slowly. ‘Yeah. You’re wrong.’
‘So -,’ Grant arched an eyebrow. ‘You’re not walking out on me and my band, then?’
‘No… I… that is…’ For a moment, Lee floundered before he was able to catch the tip of his tongue sharply between his teeth and quieten his nervous chatter. He breathed deeply, tucked his chin towards his chest and held Grant’s staring gaze with a steadiness that he did not feel. ‘I am leaving you, Grant. You and the band.’
The expression upon Grant’s face mutated into a petulant scowl.
‘But I’m not leaving you for Daniel.’
‘How come?’ Grant snapped, his voice ringing with a sneer. ‘Did he realise what a whore you are and tell you to get stuffed, too?’
Frustration rippled through Lee in waves of nausea, causing him to grind his back teeth together even as he held his breath in an effort not to retaliate in the way that Grant expected. He was determined that this time he was going to walk away with his head held high, secure in the knowledge that he hadn’t lowered himself to a level where he felt no better than Grant often was.
‘Grant, this isn’t about either Daniel or Slade.’
‘Like hell it’s not!’
Lee sighed. ‘Look, this isn’t even about the fact that I had sex with Slade -,’
‘Like the two-faced whore that you are!’
Lee ground his teeth painfully together, felt the enamel shift and slide against the edges of his tongue as he tried, desperately, to retain an outward appearance of calm serenity. He’d spent a lot of time thinking about his reasons for accepting Daniel’s contract and leaving both Grant and Alphabet Jam behind - had even whiled away a few lonely nights on the floor considering why he’d drunkenly slept with Slade that one time, and the only conclusion that he could draw, the one that instinctively made sense to him, was that by walking away from Grant and all that their decayed relationship had represented, he was doing the right thing.
The only thing that, given the circumstances, he could do.
He sighed again, rubbed tiredly with the plump curve of his thumb beneath an eye. ‘This is about the fact that I actually wanted to have sex with someone that wasn’t you, and that I still want to build a career that doesn’t involve you!’
Grant stared at him, eyes cold above a mouth thinned with distaste at the words that Lee had spoken. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you haven’t fucked half the fuckin’ band - never mind just Slade and Daniel!’
‘You really…’ Lee paused, knew that Grant’s anger towards him wasn’t necessarily a rational entity. That it stemmed more from the fact that Lee was leaving him. That ultimately it didn’t matter who, or what Lee had had sex with during the last few months of their relationship whilst it died around their feet. He knew that it was the simple fact that Grant wasn’t in control of him any longer that rankled. That Grant realised he could no longer dictate to him what to say, think, or believe.
How to behave…
He shook his head. ‘This isn’t about Slade.’ He said firmly. ‘Or Daniel. Or the contract. This isn’t about what I’ve done, Grant…’
‘Oh, I’d disagree with you on that one, mate!’
‘It isn’t.’ Lee’s voice was firm. ‘It’s about me not wanting to be with you anymore, Grant. It’s about the way you try to twist everything that I say and do, into something that’s about you. It’s about my being fuckin’ tired of constantly being made to feel as though I just don’t matter in any way, shape or form to you - unless it benefits you or your band in some way to have me matter.’
‘Bullshit!’ Grant snapped. ‘We’re in a fuckin’ relationship, Lee!’
‘No, we were in a relationship.’
Grant rolled his eyes. ‘If you meant nothing to me -,’ he said, voice low and obtusely calm, ‘then I wouldn’t be standing here right now, would I? I’d just have let you leave. Wouldn’t I?’
‘Like a rational adult, you mean?’
Grant’s eyes widened as they stared at one another, somewhat incredulously, and Lee found himself wondering whether the surprise that registered upon his former lover’s face was there because he’d actually dared to answer back; to stand up for himself for the first time in years… or whether it was because he was mistaken about Grant’s feelings towards him, their relationship.
‘You mean something to me!’ Grant insisted, his voice vehement, the tone of it sending a jolt of emotion through Lee that he fought to ignore.
He wasn’t entirely certain whether or not to believe the man who had already thrown a plate at his retreating back, purely because he had told him of his intentions to strike out on his own. Who had belittled him constantly throughout the time that they’d been together. Who had made Lee feel as though every thought, every word, every action performed by him was little more than ridiculous… to be ridiculed.
‘What?’ he asked, quietly.
For a moment, Grant stared at him, the light in his eyes shifting from incredulity to confusion. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘It’s simple -,’ Lee said, kept his voice quietly modulated as he watched Grant closely. ‘What do I mean to you? You say that I mean “something”…’
‘You do!’
‘… so tell me what that “something” is.’
‘I…’
Lee sighed, shook his head slightly, the gesture reverberating with genuine sorrow. He had loved Grant, once, before he’d come to realise the underlying darkness to the other man, and it hurt him that the situation had devolved to such a point where his former lover still felt the need to lie to them both about the state of his feelings for Lee.
‘You can’t.’ he said softly; watched Grant closely. ‘You can’t tell me what that “something” is, Grant, because it doesn’t exist. You don’t love me. You don’t even like me.’
‘Don’t tell me how I feel -,’
‘Then don’t tell me what to do.’ Lee interrupted gently. His brow furrowed with determination. ‘Grant, I have to go. You have to let me leave. If I stay, it’ll destroy us both…’
‘No, it won’t!’
‘I’m not going to hang around and wait for you to get bored with stringing me along -,’ Lee went on as though Grant hadn’t spoken. Desperation started to seep into his system with the realisation that he had to move quickly, confuse Grant with rationality if he was going to be able to turn his back and do the only thing that he truly wanted.
Walk away.
‘I can’t break Daniel’s contract, Grant,’ he explained; spoke the truth. ‘If I try to, he’ll sue me. He’ll take me for breach of contract, Grant - and I can’t afford that, either financially or professionally. Can you?’
Grant seemed confused, his face tucked in on itself as he listened to Lee’s patiently spoken words. ‘What?’
‘If I get sued for breach of contract,’ Lee explained. ‘Then it’ll ruin my reputation. No one worth anything in the business will want to employ me - or anyone intimately connected to me.’
‘Bullshit.’
Lee shook his head, clung to the lack of heat in Grant’s rebuttal. ‘You know as well as I do that it’s not. Daniel knows his stuff when it comes to legalities. I’m not taking the risk, Grant. I don’t want to. I can’t afford to. Besides -,’ he hesitated.
‘What?’
‘I don’t want to drag you down with me if this goes wrong.’
It was a lie, but the only thing that Lee could think of to persuade Grant to let him leave. He watched him closely, waited for the flicker of doubt to go through Grant’s eyes, felt almost vindicated when it did so.
‘What do you mean?’
‘If I have no connection to you and the rest of the band, Grant, then if my career gets fucked to high heaven and back, there’ll be no comeback on you. On Alphabet Jam.’ He lifted a hopeful eyebrow. ‘Will there?’
‘You think you’re likely to fuck up?’
He rolled his shoulders into a weary shrug. ‘Well, you’re the one always telling me how crap I am…’
‘True…’
Grant’s mouth pouted with thought, and Lee waited tensely to learn if his ploy had worked, ignored the twinge of hatred that assaulted him at the blithe agreement to his statement.
‘So you’re leaving to protect me… my band… from your inevitable fuck-up?’
He breathed deeply, prepared to lie again. ‘Yeah.’
There was a long pause before Grant pursed his lips, half-turned away and thrust his hands into his pockets. Instinctively, Lee’s body juddered, lurched incrementally towards the doorway that led to his freedom, yet he remained standing still. Stayed where he was, a frown of confusion shifting across his face.
‘Grant?’
‘If you’re going, then fuckin’ do so.’
‘I…’ Lee stared at him, unable to comprehend the indifference in Grant’s voice. ‘What?’
Grant wouldn’t look at him. ‘Fuck off.’
‘You…’
‘You know I can do a whole lot better than you, Lee.’
‘Well, I -,’
‘And so can my band.’ Grant shot him a sideways glance, and Lee shivered at the hatred that was clear within his former lover’s stare. ‘Jones is fuckin’ welcome to you and all your fuck-ups.’
‘Right.’ Lee hesitated again, uncertain of what he was supposed to do. A feeling of lightness flew through him, euphoria mingled with relief, as he understood that he had won… ‘Okay then. I’ll do that, then. Fuck off, I mean…’
The hairs at the nape of his neck prickling with apprehension, Lee turned his back on Grant; waited for the next piece of crockery to hit him, or for the blade of the knife that he’d been threatened with to embed itself between his shoulders…
But there was only a silent stillness behind him, and he realised that Grant was finally letting him go.
He was almost at the front door, a hastily packed holdall slung over his shoulder, when the sound of Grant’s voice stilled his footsteps.
‘I’ll be in touch, Lee.’
He turned his head, saw his former lover leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb into the kitchen, an unreadable expression upon his face, and he breathed deeply, understood that the threat was idle; merely Grant having the last word about their relationship.
‘Yeah.’ He said softly, smiled faintly as he turned his back once more and reached for the door handle. ‘I know…’
But he didn’t care.
He was finally free…
“You said it’s over, I said that’s okay,
I wasn’t in to you anyway.”
[Darius Danesh ~ “Incredible (What I Meant To Say)”]
The plate lay in pieces between them: shards of pristine white china that marred the smooth surface of the kitchen floor, tiny fragments that Lee knew would cut, slice, maim if he stepped on them. He stood frozen just inside the doorway, staring at the remains of the crockery upon the ground, his heart rapid against his ribcage and breath sour at the back of his throat. Time seemed to stand still; hours seeming to pass where, rationally, he knew that only moments could have elapsed, and he was reluctant to lift his gaze from the smashed plate.
‘I don’t believe you just fuckin’ did that…’
‘Yeah? Well, I don’t believe I fuckin’ missed!’
The anger that emanated from Grant was almost palpable: fascinated Lee as he stood still, stared at his former lover, knew that he was the cause of the rage that flushed and twisted the face that he’d once thought beautiful. Watching Grant closely, muscles jittering with anxious nerves, Lee narrowed his eyes. ‘You just threw a plate at me, Grant.’
‘Be glad it wasn’t a fuckin’ knife!’
‘What?’ The venom in Grant’s voice was surprising; caused Lee to blink and his breath to stutter a little as he tried to refocus his thoughts. ‘You’d try to kill me? Because I’m leaving you?’
There was a moment’s pause during which Lee watched the expression upon Grant’s face contort and twist in hatred and loathing. He stood in the doorway, felt the open space of freedom lingering behind him and longed, with a desperation borne from years of suffocation to step towards it, to turn and flee. Yet he knew that he couldn’t. That it wasn’t as simple as he wished it to be. That he couldn’t leave until he’d resolved one final issue with the man who stood before him - a petulant toddler of an adult who couldn’t get his own way.
Lee sighed, felt the corners of his mouth twitch and curve into a frown. ‘Grant, you have to understand that…’
‘That you’re a selfish, two-faced, cheating slut?’ Grant demanded, laughed, the pitch of his voice bitterly pure. ‘Yeah. I understand that already, thanks!’
‘ … I just don’t want to be in the band anymore.’
‘Which you’ve made abundantly clear.’
‘So -,’ Lee hesitated; dragged a hand that shook with frustration through his hair. No matter how he phrased his desire, he couldn’t seem to make Grant realise that it was time to let him go, to allow him to move on with his professional life… to step past the final block in the dismally unsettling relationship that had consumed them both completely for several months. ‘Why won’t you understand?’
‘I understand perfectly well.’
‘Really?’ Lee felt a glimmer of hope within him. ‘Great! Then let me go, huh?’
‘I’m not stopping you.’
Gesturing impatiently towards the broken shards of crockery that lay on the floor between them, Lee glowered at Grant, felt his own anger rise like bile, thick and heavy inside of him. ‘I turn my back on you again, who’s to say that you won’t throw that hypothetical knife at me, Grant?’
‘You really think I’d do something like that?’
‘I think you’re fuckin’ unstable enough to, yeah!’
A sneer twisted at Grant’s face, distorted it enough to cause Lee to flinch back, instinctively moving away from him. At the solid sensation of the wall behind his back, it dawned upon Lee for the first time that he was inexplicably trapped.
That no matter how much he longed to, he couldn’t run from Grant.
That to run would involve spending days… weeks… months… metaphorically looking over his shoulder in case his former lover chose to drop the bombshell of his sexuality and destroy everything that Lee had spent so long carefully cultivating…
Unashamed of who he was, Lee was merely frightened that such knowledge would prevent him from being able to continue doing what he loved most - that if his new employers were to discover that he was gay, they would terminate his contract, cite their impressionable young fans as the reason why, break Lee’s heart in the process.
It had happened before.
Lee had lost count of the friends who had watched their careers whisper away into empty silence because of their sexualities. Part of the insincerely tolerant world in which they all moved. He didn’t want that to happen to him; didn’t want to have to scrape the bottom of the barrel for gigs purely because he’d fucked up and annoyed Grant enough to cause him to tell people the truth about their former living arrangements, the truth of their relationship. He didn’t want to end up like some of the people he’d started his career as a bassist alongside, didn’t want to have to run home to his parents with his tail between his legs and beg for their support…
He knew that he couldn’t run, knew that Grant was angry enough to deliberately sabotage his future in such a way. Particularly if he thought it would cause him to submissively creep back into their old patterns of behaviour. Lee couldn’t allow that to happen. He had to make the bid for freedom, break his cloying relationship with Grant once and for all.
He had to.
Sighing heavily, Lee considered how unfair it was that he hadn’t been blessed with the ability to think things through before he went diving into situations. That he couldn’t manage to look ahead and weigh up the possibilities, the consequences of his own actions with regard to matters of the heart. He knew without a doubt in his own mind that, had he possessed such an ability, he would never have fallen for Grant’s seduction and allowed himself to end up trapped.
Placed in a situation where he was literally too afraid to turn his back in case something happened beyond his realm of sight.
He’d spent weeks gradually building up the courage to tell Grant that it was over between them - both personally and professionally. That he was no longer prepared to tolerate the passive-aggressive way in which he was controlled, held responsible for each of Grant’s shortcomings, blamed for the slightest thing that went wrong even if it were nothing to do with him. He’d known for a while that he was worth more than the snide, belittling comments that Grant constantly bestowed upon him, than the constant feeling of unsettlement that he just wasn’t good enough…
He’d endured weeks of inner turmoil, silent debate within himself as to how to tell Grant that he’d been offered another contract, a better deal, and that he’d accepted it immediately… and it was only now that Lee realised that he’d already failed in his self-appointed task.
That no matter how carefully he phrased his intentions, Grant would only comprehend what he wanted to.
‘I’m not the one with the fuckin’ problems, Lee -,’ Grant’s voice was little more than a snarl. ‘After all, you’re the one who fuckin’ cheated on me!’
‘And why was that, do you think?’
The reply was simply in its brutality. ‘Because you’re a fuckin’ slut!’
‘No -,’ Lee shook his head, tried not to close his eyes and show the trembling that assuaged his body at Grant’s soft fury. ‘I went with Slade because he made me feel like I actually fuckin’ mattered, Grant. That’s something that you’ve never managed to do!’
‘Bullshit!’
Tiredly, Lee shook his head: wanted to explain that if Grant had only taken the time to understand that all he’d ever wanted from their relationship was contentment and equality, he probably wouldn’t have turned to his friend for comfort in the first place… but he knew that his former lover wasn’t yet capable of understanding such a simple fact. Slade wasn’t the problem - wasn’t even the source of the problem between Lee and Grant, but had proved to be the catalyst that had led to a state of devolved fury and base instincts that could, Lee realised, still prove disastrous to at least one of their lives…
Their careers.
‘Absolute fuckin’ bullshit!’ Grant snarled again, lurching forwards a step or two as he did so. His eyes glittered with a rage that would have - under any other circumstances - gifted Lee with a warning to be wary, and his mouth twisted with the emotion that swirled ungraciously through him. At his sides, his hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically into fists, drawing Lee’s nervy eyes towards them. ‘I gave you fuckin’ everything, Lee!’
Lee shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, his voice resigned and soft. ‘You didn’t, Grant. All you’ve done in the last few months is to make me feel second best to everyone else… everything else in your life. And I can’t take it anymore. I’ve had enough.’
‘Look, this is -,’ Grant’s voice faltered, faded as he dragged a hand through his hair. ‘You know what the worst thing about all this is, Lee? You have any fuckin’ idea?’
Lee frowned.
The sudden shift in Grant’s tone of voice wasn’t something that he felt capable of trusting, because he knew that his former lover often modulated his voice in rapid motion from furious to pleasantly conversational. Until he’d realised that it hinted at darker things that lingered beneath the surface of Grant’s veneer, Lee had thought it part of his charm, found it attractive…
He swallowed anxiously; no longer willing to hide his fear of the sublime smile and easy voice that confronted him. ‘What?’
‘That you weren’t going to tell me.’
‘I told you about Slade -,’
‘No -,’ Grant shook his head; smiled serenely at him. ‘About leaving me, I mean. Leaving the band. Taking on fuckin’ Jones’ contract over mine.’
Lee’s frown grew deeper with the confusion that he felt. He knew that he had told Grant of his decision to accept Daniel’s offer of a golden handshake contract - could remember how the actual words and the intention behind them had led them both to a point in their lives where his back was literally pressed against the wall and he didn’t know what was going to happen next. ‘What…?’
‘Leaving me for Dan.’
‘Grant -,’ Lee spoke slowly; reluctant to do or say anything that might possibly startle him from affability into violence. ‘You’ve got it wrong!’
‘Really.’
The expression in Grant’s eyes was disdainful; reverberated with boredom - yet Lee knew that it was a ruse. He recognised the shift to Grant’s conversation, the stance that he had taken for what it was; knew every nuance of the other man’s manipulative tricks because he had borne the brunt of them too many times before.
He wouldn’t allow himself to fall headlong into the emotionally abusive traps any longer.
He was worth more than that…
Shrugging his shoulders, Lee aimed for a nonchalant calm despite the fact that his heart pounded with anxiety and he could feel the chill trickle of sweat between his shoulder blades. ‘Well…’ he said slowly. ‘Yeah. You’re wrong.’
‘So -,’ Grant arched an eyebrow. ‘You’re not walking out on me and my band, then?’
‘No… I… that is…’ For a moment, Lee floundered before he was able to catch the tip of his tongue sharply between his teeth and quieten his nervous chatter. He breathed deeply, tucked his chin towards his chest and held Grant’s staring gaze with a steadiness that he did not feel. ‘I am leaving you, Grant. You and the band.’
The expression upon Grant’s face mutated into a petulant scowl.
‘But I’m not leaving you for Daniel.’
‘How come?’ Grant snapped, his voice ringing with a sneer. ‘Did he realise what a whore you are and tell you to get stuffed, too?’
Frustration rippled through Lee in waves of nausea, causing him to grind his back teeth together even as he held his breath in an effort not to retaliate in the way that Grant expected. He was determined that this time he was going to walk away with his head held high, secure in the knowledge that he hadn’t lowered himself to a level where he felt no better than Grant often was.
‘Grant, this isn’t about either Daniel or Slade.’
‘Like hell it’s not!’
Lee sighed. ‘Look, this isn’t even about the fact that I had sex with Slade -,’
‘Like the two-faced whore that you are!’
Lee ground his teeth painfully together, felt the enamel shift and slide against the edges of his tongue as he tried, desperately, to retain an outward appearance of calm serenity. He’d spent a lot of time thinking about his reasons for accepting Daniel’s contract and leaving both Grant and Alphabet Jam behind - had even whiled away a few lonely nights on the floor considering why he’d drunkenly slept with Slade that one time, and the only conclusion that he could draw, the one that instinctively made sense to him, was that by walking away from Grant and all that their decayed relationship had represented, he was doing the right thing.
The only thing that, given the circumstances, he could do.
He sighed again, rubbed tiredly with the plump curve of his thumb beneath an eye. ‘This is about the fact that I actually wanted to have sex with someone that wasn’t you, and that I still want to build a career that doesn’t involve you!’
Grant stared at him, eyes cold above a mouth thinned with distaste at the words that Lee had spoken. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you haven’t fucked half the fuckin’ band - never mind just Slade and Daniel!’
‘You really…’ Lee paused, knew that Grant’s anger towards him wasn’t necessarily a rational entity. That it stemmed more from the fact that Lee was leaving him. That ultimately it didn’t matter who, or what Lee had had sex with during the last few months of their relationship whilst it died around their feet. He knew that it was the simple fact that Grant wasn’t in control of him any longer that rankled. That Grant realised he could no longer dictate to him what to say, think, or believe.
How to behave…
He shook his head. ‘This isn’t about Slade.’ He said firmly. ‘Or Daniel. Or the contract. This isn’t about what I’ve done, Grant…’
‘Oh, I’d disagree with you on that one, mate!’
‘It isn’t.’ Lee’s voice was firm. ‘It’s about me not wanting to be with you anymore, Grant. It’s about the way you try to twist everything that I say and do, into something that’s about you. It’s about my being fuckin’ tired of constantly being made to feel as though I just don’t matter in any way, shape or form to you - unless it benefits you or your band in some way to have me matter.’
‘Bullshit!’ Grant snapped. ‘We’re in a fuckin’ relationship, Lee!’
‘No, we were in a relationship.’
Grant rolled his eyes. ‘If you meant nothing to me -,’ he said, voice low and obtusely calm, ‘then I wouldn’t be standing here right now, would I? I’d just have let you leave. Wouldn’t I?’
‘Like a rational adult, you mean?’
Grant’s eyes widened as they stared at one another, somewhat incredulously, and Lee found himself wondering whether the surprise that registered upon his former lover’s face was there because he’d actually dared to answer back; to stand up for himself for the first time in years… or whether it was because he was mistaken about Grant’s feelings towards him, their relationship.
‘You mean something to me!’ Grant insisted, his voice vehement, the tone of it sending a jolt of emotion through Lee that he fought to ignore.
He wasn’t entirely certain whether or not to believe the man who had already thrown a plate at his retreating back, purely because he had told him of his intentions to strike out on his own. Who had belittled him constantly throughout the time that they’d been together. Who had made Lee feel as though every thought, every word, every action performed by him was little more than ridiculous… to be ridiculed.
‘What?’ he asked, quietly.
For a moment, Grant stared at him, the light in his eyes shifting from incredulity to confusion. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘It’s simple -,’ Lee said, kept his voice quietly modulated as he watched Grant closely. ‘What do I mean to you? You say that I mean “something”…’
‘You do!’
‘… so tell me what that “something” is.’
‘I…’
Lee sighed, shook his head slightly, the gesture reverberating with genuine sorrow. He had loved Grant, once, before he’d come to realise the underlying darkness to the other man, and it hurt him that the situation had devolved to such a point where his former lover still felt the need to lie to them both about the state of his feelings for Lee.
‘You can’t.’ he said softly; watched Grant closely. ‘You can’t tell me what that “something” is, Grant, because it doesn’t exist. You don’t love me. You don’t even like me.’
‘Don’t tell me how I feel -,’
‘Then don’t tell me what to do.’ Lee interrupted gently. His brow furrowed with determination. ‘Grant, I have to go. You have to let me leave. If I stay, it’ll destroy us both…’
‘No, it won’t!’
‘I’m not going to hang around and wait for you to get bored with stringing me along -,’ Lee went on as though Grant hadn’t spoken. Desperation started to seep into his system with the realisation that he had to move quickly, confuse Grant with rationality if he was going to be able to turn his back and do the only thing that he truly wanted.
Walk away.
‘I can’t break Daniel’s contract, Grant,’ he explained; spoke the truth. ‘If I try to, he’ll sue me. He’ll take me for breach of contract, Grant - and I can’t afford that, either financially or professionally. Can you?’
Grant seemed confused, his face tucked in on itself as he listened to Lee’s patiently spoken words. ‘What?’
‘If I get sued for breach of contract,’ Lee explained. ‘Then it’ll ruin my reputation. No one worth anything in the business will want to employ me - or anyone intimately connected to me.’
‘Bullshit.’
Lee shook his head, clung to the lack of heat in Grant’s rebuttal. ‘You know as well as I do that it’s not. Daniel knows his stuff when it comes to legalities. I’m not taking the risk, Grant. I don’t want to. I can’t afford to. Besides -,’ he hesitated.
‘What?’
‘I don’t want to drag you down with me if this goes wrong.’
It was a lie, but the only thing that Lee could think of to persuade Grant to let him leave. He watched him closely, waited for the flicker of doubt to go through Grant’s eyes, felt almost vindicated when it did so.
‘What do you mean?’
‘If I have no connection to you and the rest of the band, Grant, then if my career gets fucked to high heaven and back, there’ll be no comeback on you. On Alphabet Jam.’ He lifted a hopeful eyebrow. ‘Will there?’
‘You think you’re likely to fuck up?’
He rolled his shoulders into a weary shrug. ‘Well, you’re the one always telling me how crap I am…’
‘True…’
Grant’s mouth pouted with thought, and Lee waited tensely to learn if his ploy had worked, ignored the twinge of hatred that assaulted him at the blithe agreement to his statement.
‘So you’re leaving to protect me… my band… from your inevitable fuck-up?’
He breathed deeply, prepared to lie again. ‘Yeah.’
There was a long pause before Grant pursed his lips, half-turned away and thrust his hands into his pockets. Instinctively, Lee’s body juddered, lurched incrementally towards the doorway that led to his freedom, yet he remained standing still. Stayed where he was, a frown of confusion shifting across his face.
‘Grant?’
‘If you’re going, then fuckin’ do so.’
‘I…’ Lee stared at him, unable to comprehend the indifference in Grant’s voice. ‘What?’
Grant wouldn’t look at him. ‘Fuck off.’
‘You…’
‘You know I can do a whole lot better than you, Lee.’
‘Well, I -,’
‘And so can my band.’ Grant shot him a sideways glance, and Lee shivered at the hatred that was clear within his former lover’s stare. ‘Jones is fuckin’ welcome to you and all your fuck-ups.’
‘Right.’ Lee hesitated again, uncertain of what he was supposed to do. A feeling of lightness flew through him, euphoria mingled with relief, as he understood that he had won… ‘Okay then. I’ll do that, then. Fuck off, I mean…’
The hairs at the nape of his neck prickling with apprehension, Lee turned his back on Grant; waited for the next piece of crockery to hit him, or for the blade of the knife that he’d been threatened with to embed itself between his shoulders…
But there was only a silent stillness behind him, and he realised that Grant was finally letting him go.
He was almost at the front door, a hastily packed holdall slung over his shoulder, when the sound of Grant’s voice stilled his footsteps.
‘I’ll be in touch, Lee.’
He turned his head, saw his former lover leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb into the kitchen, an unreadable expression upon his face, and he breathed deeply, understood that the threat was idle; merely Grant having the last word about their relationship.
‘Yeah.’ He said softly, smiled faintly as he turned his back once more and reached for the door handle. ‘I know…’
But he didn’t care.
He was finally free…