Chapter 18

I’m actually visiting a friend. How crazy is that? I mean, before I moved to Aldeburgh, and even after then, hell, even last week, I didn’t think I’d be able to do this. But here I am, going inside Dray Hastidal’s house.

Like seriously, if he wanted to murder me at this point, fair game.

“So uh, this is my place! It’s not as small as it looks; I just have a lot of stuff,” he says with a laugh, moving a big cushion shaped like a carrot out of the way. “Don’t even ask why I have a carrot pillow, it’s a long story,” he smiles, chucking it onto the bed.

“I wasn’t going to ask, but now I’m curious - how long can a story about a pillow be?” Dray invites me over to a small sofa in the corner, and we sit side by side on it. I sit down first, and notice how Dray could sit at the other end, but instead he’s right next to me.

Almost close enough to touch. And I can’t tell if the distance is because he doesn’t know if I’m comfortable with it, or because he doesn’t want to sit that close to me.

“Ok, well. I used to be friends with this girl yeah? And this was like, back in sixth form college,” he starts to explain, his hands moving animatedly as he tells the saga of the carrot cushion. He looks up at me, our gazes locking for a moment, before he gently nudges my shoulder with his.

“Are you even listening to the story? Hey, I know it’s boring, but you’re the one who asked, so you have to deal with the consequences.” He pouts slightly, faking offence. The look is totally adorable on him, and I feel my lips lift up at the corners slightly.

“Oh wow, happy now are we? Good to know my carrot adventure is totally lost on you.”

A small laugh echoes through the room, and I realise with surprise that it’s my laugh. I’ve laughed before, obviously, I’m not some kind of humourless psychopath. I just…don’t unexpectedly laugh very much these days.

We decide to order in a takeaway, and once the food is here, we begin tucking in hungrily. Once we’re done, we retake our positions on the sofa. This time, Dray is closer. Close enough to lean his head on my shoulder- oh shit he’s leaning his head on my shoulder.

“Is it ok if I do this? I know you’re uncomfortable with people touching you,” he says quietly, and I shift in my seat, trying to free my arm from my side. Dray sits up quickly, mistaking my movement for discomfort.

I rapidly wrap my arm around his shoulders, and then plop his head back onto my shoulder. “This is fine. Most of the time now I’m ok with people getting near me, it’s just…sometimes I’m not,” I explain.

“Fyfe?” He asks after a moment of comfortable silence. “Hm?” I respond, my eyes slowly closing as the weight of fatigue pulls my lids closed.

“Can I ask why you never mentioned you used to work for the police?”

My eyes snap open, and I stare straight ahead of me, trying to think up an answer. I’m not ready to tell him about my PTSD yet, but I do want to. I know he wouldn’t judge me, but I don’t want him to worry about me, or think I’m fragile for having this condition.

“I don’t really like to talk about it. You’ve seen the scars on my arms. As you can imagine, I was in a lot of…unpleasant scenarios.” Unpleasant doesn’t even get close to describing what I went through, but it will do for now.

Dray nods against my shoulder, his short black hair tickling my neck, and I’m beginning to realise just how close he is to me in this moment; both physically and emotionally.

“That’s…I’m glad you’re in a job now where the most risk you’ll ever be in is from a paper cut.” His tone is serious, and I think he is genuinely glad I’m a teacher now. I give Dray’s shoulders a little squeeze, resting my head on top of his.

“Yeah, I’m glad I don’t have to do that kind of stuff anymore.”

Dray snuggles more closely into my side, sighing gently. His hot breath hits my neck, and I have the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Good thing I’m such a champ at self control.

“Have you ever…had to shoot someone?”

I sigh, rubbing my eyes to try and rid myself of the image those words conjured.

A gun, pushed into my hands. “Just fucking do it, Dean. Put that son of a bitch out of his god damn misery.” I stare up at him, my expression resolute and unmoving. “No, Mikey.”

The thing with police in the UK, is that the average cop doesn’t have access to firearms. So before I went undercover, I’d never actually shot someone. But, in those three years…I managed to worm my way out of actually doing it, for the longest time. But then, there was that fight.

The one where my time undercover ended.

The one where my intentions were revealed.

The one where I was finally free.

The one where those fucking awful people were finally caught.

The one where I was shot.

I was only shot once, which is pretty lucky, all things considered. And in that fight, I shot someone for the first time. I shot Mikey. He survived, and is now serving his time in prison, so everything worked out pretty ok.

My injury wasn’t even that bad, just ended up as another scar on my chest. Almost every single scar is from those three years. Knife fights were common, and I got hurt a lot. Because I was a target, one of Mikey and Caleb’s closest lackeys.

People I’d never even met before would attack me, purely because they hated Mikey and Caleb. Well guess what sunshine - I hate them too. With every part of my being.

“Fyfe? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that, it was super insensitive of me.” I blink, and am met with Dray’s concerned eyes, rather than Mikey’s wrathful ones just before I shot him.

“Uh, no, it’s ok. I feel like…I’ll probably tell you everything one day anyway…I have shot someone before, but only once,” I explain, still feeling a little dazed. I grimace, before shifting slightly, so that my back is turned to Dray.

“I shot the guy who so kindly gave me this.” I lift the back of my shirt slightly, just enough for Dray to see a peek of the stab wound Mikey gave me in the left of my lower back. Dray is silent for a moment, but before I can drop the hem of my shirt, cold fingers lightly press against my skin.

I look back at him, and without really thinking, pull Dray into a hug. He buries his face in my chest as he tries to even out his breathing. “I-I’m sorry, I just, I hate how you’ve been through that,” he whispers, tears filling his voice.

I rest my cheek on his head, smoothing my hand across his back. “You don’t have to apologise for anything - I’m sorry for showing you, I didn’t think it would freak you out.” I don’t even know why I did show him, but I think I…wanted him to know what I’ve been through.

If I could show him, it would be so much easier than telling him.

“No, thank you for showing me. I get that…it must have been really hard to do, and I…I have some things I want to be able to tell you too, I feel like you should…should know,” he mumbles into my chest, his voice muffled by my shirt.

“Ok, let’s tell each other these things, but…not right now. If I talk any more about this, I’ll get a, uh, headache.” Fuck, Fyfe! That would’ve been the perfect time to explain about the flashbacks! I chickened out though.

I remind myself that it’s ok, I’ve already done well today. I’ve already opened up, told him things, and shown him my scars. I’m doing well. And, I really am doing well. I mean, I’m literally cuddling someone right now.

I never thought I’d be able to cuddle someone again, and not feel scared. But I don’t feel scared. I just feel comfortable, and warm. 

Dray is so warm.

“You get headaches from talking about it? That sounds awful, I’m sorry I brought this all up,” he says, shifting around so that his face is no longer smushed up against my pec. A shame, really.

“It’s fine, nothing’s happened so far, I’m just paranoid it will start.” Glancing at the time, I reluctantly untangle myself from Dray. “It’s getting pretty late, I should head home,” I stand up slowly, watching as Dray’s expression goes from concern to disappointment.

“Oh- uh, yeah, totally. Sorry, I’ve probably kept you up way too long,” he says, and I try not to think about the other connotations that saying could have. “It’s chill, I’d probably still be awake by now anyway.”

Dray fiddles with the hem of his sleeve, opening and closing his mouth, starting with “or, um, you could sta-“ before he quickly closes his mouth, shaking his head. “Oh uh, goodnight, then. Have a safe drive back.”

My heart is beating at super speed as I wave him goodbye at the door - I mean, I’m pretty sure he was about to ask me to stay the night, which, stay the night with my closest friend whom I happen to have feelings for? Sounds great.

But also terrifying. And I think Dray realised that it would be too much for me right now.

Seriously, he needs to stop being so nice and considerate, it’s only making me fall for him harder.