A Letter To My Lover
H. & R.

Dedicated to all of those people who made my time on fanfiction worthwhile. Thank you for the reviews, encouragement, and even the very few flames that I received as well.

A lot of people said I was mad for going out with you. You were a bad influence on me and got me to do all sorts of things that I usually wouldn’t even dream of doing, but there was something about you, my perfect blonde lover, that I couldn’t get out of my head. I never told you, but sometimes I felt like if I wasn’t with you, I wasn’t a whole person anymore. I didn’t tell you because I know you would have just called me a soppy idiot and laughed at me.

I think I know why most people were so against, Nik the most though, it was because I was younger than you, and I think because you were Nik’s brother. I was Nik’s best friend, and three years younger than you, and yet you still picked me!

Me!

Out of all of the people you could have chosen to go out with, you picked me, David, the idiot of the whole group of us! I never understood why, but knowing you, there was probably a reason. You always had a reason for things you did.

But I didn’t care. You were popular, funny, wonderful, and in a band and you promised me that one day we’d travel and go everywhere we wanted and we’d never have to worry about anything again. You were going to be rich and famous and I was going to be by your side and you were going to treat me like royalty.

That’s what you always promised wasn’t it, Matt, my perfect blonde Matthew.

And I was stupid enough to believe you.

I always wanted to get out of Whiston, just get out of England actually. I wanted to do something and go somewhere before I was too old and boring to not care. I loved life and I loved my home and everything, but while I was sitting at home watching old cartoon repeats, other people were going out and doing the things that I wanted to do, and seeing the things that’d I’d never see.

I wanted to be one of those people, and when you started giving me so much attention and promising me all of the things that I’d always wanted, I guess I just forgot about being sensible and fell in love with you and the idea of something better.

I was stupid and I know it now, but I couldn’t help it back then. I was young and foolish, and you just told me everything that I wanted to hear. If the people in my class had come along and told me those same things that you did, I would have probably believed them as well, and they were bastards.

Sam.

Oh, he was mad when he found out. He thought the whole thing between you and me was completely sordid and disgusting. He wouldn’t speak to either of us for about a month, and even after that, he’d only talk to me. Maybe he already knew what you were like, even back then. Or maybe Liz was right and he did like me.

I never did find out.

I may have been stupid in the eyes of everyone around me, but occasionally, I even surprised you, didn’t I my love. Even though I knew you were going to become rich and famous as soon as someone heard you sing, I was the one who realised that it might be a good idea to have some money before we left, just in case.

I got a job with Tracey’s dad, I worked in his shop most afternoons, and then I got a job at a bar as soon as I was eighteen and was there till midnight on Saturday and Sunday nights from eight.

I loved working in the bar, I remember how you used to come in with the rest of the band and order the most outrageous cocktails and then pretend to be surprised when I told you that we didn’t serve them. I still don’t know where you learnt how to make them all, or how many you just made up on the spur of the moment, but you must have taught me how to make more cocktails than a bar man in Ibiza.

But I loved it, the attention you lavished upon me whenever I was doing something for you, or when you were teaching me something new. It was like you thrived on showing me new things, and if that made you happy, I was only too happy to let you.

I didn’t mind working, and I didn’t even mind that sometimes it got in the way of my school work because I knew that once I was with you, it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Of course, mum and dad made working during school times a lot easier for me.

I don’t know when dad started drinking heavily, but I think it was sometime just after Nat left. Natalie was really lucky. She’d gotten over you and her new boyfriend had a second home in America and had invited her to move in with him.

Well, let’s just say after you turned her down about fifteen million times, when she got an offer like that, she knew that it was not an opportunity to let side. She left for America, and I got her room.

And then the rows started.

At first they were just the normal sort that parents always have over the state of the house, the amount of cooking, cleaning and basic housework they each do, and stuff like that. But they got worse and dad started spending more and more time out of the house.

I was just turned eighteen then, and still living at home, but that was ok. My parents were really traditionally minded about that sort of thing. If I’d had any grandparents who were still alive, they’d probably live with us as well, so I guess it’s a good thing that they were all dead otherwise I’d have never got Nat’s room. Mum and dad were really shocked when Nat announced that she was moving to America, but they had to let her go because there was nothing else they could really do about it.

But the best thing about it was that they felt so guilty about the fact that I was living at home while all this arguing was going on, that they gave me extra pocket money and stuff, so that was really cool. I almost started to wish that they could argue more.

But then mum left.

I remember her leaving so clearly that it’s like I’m watching it on telly, you know, like it’s not real or something. But it was real. Mum packed up all her stuff while my father, who was drunk at the time just watched her and occasionally swore at her and said that she was a selfish bitch and that she didn’t even deserve all the nice things she had that he had paid for.

Mum ignored him and looked at me. I knew she wasn’t going to take me with her, though at that point in time, I’m not sure whether I would have wanted to. If I’d gone with her, I would have had to leave you.

She hugged me and told me that she was sorry, but she couldn’t stay trapped in this so-called life that my father had invented for her. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to be good, and then walked out of the house and got into the car.

It was only then that something twigged in my brain. I ran out just as mum was starting the engine "But who’s going to look after us?"

"David, you’re a big boy now, you can look after yourself."

"But what about him? He can’t look after himself in that state."

I knew.

I knew even then what was going to happen, even before she looked at me with those big sad eyes, with the look that you used to say could melt ice cream, before she shook her head and said in a sad voice "I’m sorry" and then drove away.

Before all that, I knew that it was going to be me left there to look after him and there was nothing I could do about it. I had nowhere I could just go to, as you and the others, and a few guys from the soccer team who I’d kept in touch with were the only people outside my family that I had any social contact with.

I had to quit school, give up any dreams that I might have had just so my alcoholic father wouldn’t be left on his own to burn the house down, or kill himself by tripping over an empty bottle, or something equally as awful.

Everyone was shocked when I told them that I was leaving school. I didn’t tell them the real reason, I couldn’t tell them that I had to look after my dad, they’d take him away or something and then I’d be completely on my own. I couldn’t stand that.

So I told them that I was just quitting, I just didn’t want to continue my studies and I wanted to concentrate on earning money.

If they’d hooked me up to a lie detector, the machine would have probably blown up with the amount of lies I told. It was horrible. Everyone was confused and upset about my decision, and no one knew the real reason. Well, except you. Do you remember when I told you? It was that night when I stayed at yours and it was snowing real bad and you said that it made me look like I had a chronic case of dandruff. I told you then and you asked where my dad was, he was at a pub of course, and I’d just slipped out and made sure that I left a message for him, so no one could say that I hadn’t told him.

You stood by me, you always did. I guess with my mum leaving and me living with my dad gave us something in common. You offered to come over and help out if I ever needed it, or to teach me the stuff that I was missing out on at school.

I still don’t know whether you were being serious then, I declined your offer of ‘study help’ anyway. But did you mean it, or were you joking? You never told me when I asked.

We left some time after that. I can’t remember exactly when, but it must have been after I turned up at your apartment when you were having a band practice. I was crying because my dad had actually hit me.

It was the first time I can remember that my father ever used physical violence against anyone, he was usually the calm one of the family, while Nat and I would be the ones who beat people up if they dared try to upset us. He used to say that we got it from our great-grandfather, but I never knew him, he died many years before I was even thought of.

But when you saw me crying, you didn’t think about how it was strange that my father had hit me, you just knew that it was wrong. You offered to call the police, but I wouldn’t let you. Even now, if my father came here now, and if you offered to call someone for help, I wouldn’t let you because even though he hit me, he’s still my father, no matter what happens.

You took me inside and the band all heard about the story about my dad. I was surprised that they didn’t already know because you usually told them everything. They were horrified at what had happened, and they each suggested their own helpful, if bizarre, ideas of how to help me.

But it was only after they finally left and we were alone that you said we should leave. You told me to go home, make sure my dad was asleep, and then pack some things in a bag. You would bring your car round and we’d leave. We never had to see my dad again.

Of course, I knew that this was the opportunity I’d always wanted. I was finally going to leave Whiston, and I didn’t care what the situations were, I just wanted out.

So you drove me home, and I went upstairs to the apartment and packed the minimum of things in a bag, grabbed my money box, which had all of the money I’d earned through my two jobs, and some for doing favours for neighbours, like painting and stuff.

I digress.

I ran downstairs again, and you were still waiting there in your car. I jumped in and you turned the engine on.

We were free.

We left. You and me. We sat in the car with the radio turned up and we sped away into the night. You drove with one hand, the other one just draped over my shoulders keeping me warm and close to you. I’ll never forgot that night we left for as long as I live, because it was the best night of my life.

But after that night, things got bad again.

You promised me that you would find a job in either modelling, acting or performing, well, I should have known that there are very few people that could ever get that sort of job, and never mind on their first job. But I had so much faith in you that I believed you could do anything.

We had to stay in a sort of hostel type place, and it wasn’t one of the nicest places to live, but it was a start. Your car was probably the most expensive thing we owned of course, but we both agreed that there was no way that we were going to sell it because it was out symbol of freedom. Anytime we had had enough, we could just get in the car and drive away again.

We didn’t drive away though, not then. We had found a place to stay, and we were both out looking for a job. Well, at least I know I was, I’m no longer sure what you were doing. You used to tell me that you’d been to this company, and that producer, and some other talent scout and it was always so positive.

I guess I really was stupid for not wondering why you still weren’t working if you were meeting all these great people.

I, on the other hand, had a much easier time of getting a job because I already had experience in a shop and in a bar. So I got two jobs, one in the evenings at a bar near to the hostel, and the other was actually in the hostel just doing some manual work.

How we managed to survive even the first few weeks I don’t know.

Every night you would take me out somewhere. Not to eat or anything, but just somewhere.

We would get in the car and put a blindfold on me, and then you’d drive to some remote location, which you’d heard of through a friend of a friend of a friend. We would sometimes then walk around, looking at whatever was there, or just sit in the car and stay warm and cosy in each other’s arms.

Of course, we often did other stuff while in that car, in those remote locations, but that, for me, was just an added bonus.

I look back now and I realise how much trust I put in you whenever we went on those drives. You could have done anything and taken me anywhere while I had that blindfold on, or you could have just left me in those places and I would have no idea how to get back. I can’t believe that once I was so innocent to have that much trust in someone.

I’d always wanted a family, even after I realised that I was gay, but you didn’t. I think now I’m glad that you told me that my idea of adopting was a bad idea.

You didn’t have a job, but I did. We were living in an actual house by the end of our first year of living away from home together, and I had been promoted in the bar and I was practically running the place. It was a great job and it earned a lot of money, but then you would take the money, and you would go out.

I was nineteen, nearing twenty when I finally realised what was happening.

I was earning all of the money, paying all of the bills, and keeping us fed and everything, while all you did was go out all day, go to bars and clubs, spend my money and then make up some lies about having an audition that hadn’t gone too well, or meeting some great producer who’d been late.

Though I have to admit that the only reason that I actually found out about what you were doing was thanks to someone at work asking me why I was never with you when you went out. When I’d looked at them in complete confusion, they’d realised that they’d stepped on rocky ground and tried to brush it off.

But I finally got the full study out of them about how you were always in the local bars and clubs, drinking yourself stupid and making up excuses for why I wasn’t there whenever someone who knew me saw you.

You were a great actor, and you had everyone fooled.

Including me.

What I did that night after I found out what you’d been doing for the past year or so was the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do.

I went home, got all your stuff, packed it for you and put it in your car, and then waited for you to get back. You didn’t notice the stuff in the car because it was parked around the back and you always came in the front way. The steps were lower, and they were easier to get up. That was why, wasn’t it? I finally worked it out.

I acted completely normally when you got in. I kissed you, asked how you’d been, whether the audition that you’d supposed to go to had gone well. Now that one had been a real audition because I’d seen it advertised somewhere and rang up for you. You’d been so pleased with me when I told you about it, but I doubt you even went now.

You said your usual lines, and as I heard them, I suddenly realised that I’d been hearing you give the same excuse for a whole year, and I’d never realised.

You must have really worked this one out carefully. I was only David, an idiot with a very low IQ, and you were Matthew, a wonderful musician with a future in Hollywood ahead of him. Come on, how hard would it be to fool a stupid idiot like me?

It was only when it came time to eat that you started to realise something was wrong.

I only laid the table for one, and when I actually had finished cooking, nothing amazing, just a frozen lasagne in the microwave, I only got out one plate.

"Have you already had something Davy?" you asked, thinking that maybe I was being nice and making you something without being asked

"No." I said, not actually looking at you, knowing that if I did, I may lose the courage that I’d built up while you’d been out "This is for me."

"Oh. So… erm… where’s mine?"

"I don’t know," I looked up at you then "didn’t you have something to eat at the bar?"

"What bar?" the perfect actor, like I said. You didn’t show any sign of being worried that your secret was out. You were just calm, cool and composed. Always perfect.

"The one you’ve been in today, and yesterday, and the day before and every other fucking day since we’ve been here!" I ended up shouting slightly and your mask dropped slightly, but now I could see that you were only worried about me.

"Oh, Davey, who’s been spinning your head? What’s going on?"

"No one has been… ‘Spinning my head’, as you put it, except you! You have not been to a single one of those auditions, the one yesterday, or any other one you said you went to! You’ve been out drinking every single night and day and then lying to me."

"Who’s been telling you things like that?"

"No one!" I lied, almost as well as you "I saw you!"

The mask dropped completely and I knew I’d got you.

I got your letter yesterday, the one addressed to ‘Daniel’. I know you were probably distracted or something, after all, writing letters to your ex-lover isn’t exactly the most important thing on the ‘things to do’ list of an alcoholic in training.

You’re not an alcoholic yet; a true alcoholic would have stopped writing to me about two years ago.

I’m doing better now, and I even spoke to Sam. I think he forgives me, and I’m starting to think that what Liz said about him liking me is true.

I’m going home soon.

Apparently my dad’s in hospital after having a severe heart attack, and the doctors aren’t sure how long he’ll live. I have to see him before he dies, just so I can tell him that I don’t hate him.

I would be home already if I weren’t for the fact that I can't drive. That was one thing you never taught me. Was it so I couldn’t leave you like my mother left my dad? It doesn’t matter I guess, but that’s why I needed Sam anyway. He can drive and he’s going to pick me up soon.

Everything’s packed already and I’m just waiting for him to get here.

I’m only telling you this in case you try to find me. Like I told you when you left, when you’re sober and are prepared to take and keep a job, you can come find me, and I might even take you back. I’m a very forgiving person like that.

I’ve got to go now, I think that’s Sam now, so I’ll post this on the way.

I hope you’re well

Your friend

David.