"Jake?"

"Yes?"

"Would you do me a favour?"

"I'm not killing you!"

"No, I've realised that. But could you go to St Mary's church for the service?"

"Why do you want me to do that?"

"Please...!"

"No way. I'm Jewish."

"So what?"

"Well, that kind of means that I don't go to church."

Not that I go to the synagogue either, but he doesn't need to know that.

"For me...?" He gives me a pleading look.

"Will it make you shut up?"

"For a while."

"Ok then."

So I go to church. My father would never forgive me.

The service is actually kind of nice. I've never been to a church, apart from when my best friend got married, so it's kind of a new experience.

The priest is talking about the lost son, a story I remember from school, and he makes me think of Santa. He's got the same white, well, grey really, beard and strangely familiar eyes.

When I leave he takes my hand, says "God bless," and smiles.

"Why did you want to me to go to church?" I ask Julian when I get back. I sit in the chair opposite his bed smoking a fag. Screw just smoking downstairs.

"What was the priest like?"

"He was...nice. Seemed really friendly. Caring, sort of."

"He's my dad."

"Sorry?"

"That's my dad."

"The priest?"

"Yeah."

Ok, so now I know, what am I going to do? Go back and tell the priest that I'm nursing his son after nearly killing him and could he possibly come and pick him up soon? But I suppose this is Julian's way of telling me something about himself, so I'm not going to underestimate the importance of it. It's just that I don't know what to do with the knowledge just yet.

---

Over the next few days he recovers a little bit. He still can't walk, every time he sets his left foot on the floor he makes a strange cat-like noise and looks like he's going to cry. With a pair of crutches he would probably be able to walk, but he refuses to let me take him to the hospital. The wounds and bruising on his face have healed enough that he can eat solid food. He can manage to get to the toilet on his own, which is a relief for both of us.

He spends most of his time downstairs in front of the telly, smoking (at least 15 per day, I've noticed). As the bruising fades he starts talking more, but he's still not talking about himself. He talks about what he's been watching on telly, he talks about sport, about music, the running he used to do, but as soon as he gets anywhere near anything personal, he goes silent. Or starts to ask me questions. On the Friday night (when he's been here two weeks), he's impossible with all his questions. It starts as soon as I get back from work.

"Jake?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going out tonight?"

"No, I'm babysitting you."

"Will you get some beer?"

"Fuck no! You're injured, you can't drink!"

"Of course I can. It's just my leg."

"God..."

I get the beer, obviously. It's for me mainly, but I guess it's not fair to drink in front of Julian and not let him have any. I get a few cans of Stella, and when I hand Julian one he empties it in about five minutes.

We're in my living room. He's on the sofa, his leg stretched out; I'm in my chair. He's wearing a pair of my tracksuit bottoms and one of my t-shirts, but he might as well have been wearing a tent. I'm a fairly slim person, but nothing compared to his 17-year-old runner's body.

"Jake?"

"Yeeeees?" Annoyed now.

"Can I have another beer?"

I fetch him one from the fridge.

"Jake?"

"Yes, god damn it?"

"How old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"20?"

"Thank you. I'm 25."

"Shit."

"Piss off."

He's like an annoying little brother. Not that I've got a little brother, so I guess I wouldn't know.

"Why aren't you married?"

Bloody hell.

"Because I've not found anyone to marry."

"Because you're gay?"

"What do you care?"

"Are you gay?"

I almost choke on my beer. He just giggles.

"No. I'm just babysitting that gay porn for a friend who's on holiday."

"But of course."

"Are you?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know. Doesn't matter anyway, does it?"

"You asked me first."

He stops giggling and finishes his second beer. I've yet to finish my first. I get up and fetch him another one. Why not.

"So who's David?" I ask.

"He's no one."

"You're going to kill yourself over no one?"

"That's not why I want to kill myself!"

"Why then?"

"Ok, it is."

I hate the fact that he was giggling only a few seconds ago and now he looks like he's going to cry.

"Tell me about it."

I don't ask him to, I tell him to.

"I don't know..."

"You're going to kill yourself anyway once your foot is better, so what difference does it make?"

"Doesn't make for a great story, mate. David and I went to school together, he was running as well. We were together for over a year. He said he loved me. I loved him. More than anything. More than life. Then our coach caught us snogging in the dressing room after practice one day and threatened to take us off the team. David panicked. I mean, I did as well, but I was more like, yeah, ok, so we won't even look at each other in school and we can just, you know, continue to see each other outside of school. Well, then it turned out the coach had phoned our parents. David broke up with me, said he never wanted anything to do with me again, and now he's got a girlfriend. My parents went ballistic, grounded me for ages, like, even picking me up from school and shit, just to make sure that I wouldn't meet David, or anyone else. And then last Friday I waited until they'd fallen asleep and then I left. I got out and phoned David, you know, telling him that I was running away, asking him to come with me. He said he hated me, that he never loved me, that he was just confused and he never wanted to see me again. So I decided to just end it. I mean, I've got nowhere to go, and I don't really want to live anymore. I'm just sick of it all."

He's crying now. I move over to the sofa and put my arm around him.

"I'm sorry, Julian," I say meekly.

He's crying his eyes out, and I'm just sitting there, gently stroking his back, hoping I'm not hurting him. Eventually he stops.

"I know that we probably would've broken up anyway, sooner or later, but that's not the point. The fucking point is that other people broke us up, because he wasn't strong enough to stay with me. And that girlfriend of his, yeah, I don't think so. He's gay. He's the gayest person I've ever met. He just a fucking liar, that's his problem."

"It's hard to do the right thing, Julian. Maybe he felt like you did, that he didn't have anywhere to go, and just like you feel that your only option is to kill yourself, maybe he feels that his only option right now is to adjust to people's expectations?"

He takes a few sips from his beer and then lights a cigarette. I move away slightly from him to light one for myself.

"Have you got a boyfriend, Jake?"

"Not right now, no."

"But you have in the past, right?"

"Yeah."

"Why did you break up?"

"We didn't. He died."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"He was a lot like you, actually. Well, older, but still. He died when he was 25, like I am now. That was three years ago. He had cancer."

"Shit, man. Will you ever get over it?"

"No."

He leans over and kisses my lips.

"Julian, what are you doing?"

"Kissing you?"

"Stop it."

"Why?"

"Because you're too young to kiss me, for one thing, and secondly... Why?"

"Because I like you?"

"No, you don't. You just think you do because I'm the only person you've seen for the past two weeks."

"You've been really nice to me though."

"Yeah, but just because you've been blackmailing me."

"I've not been blackmailing you!" He shouts.

"No? That's funny. I seem to remember something about you planning to phone the police if I contacted your parents."

"I wasn't going to though, was I?"

"Well, if I would've known that I would've taken you back there ages ago."

He starts crying again. I can't make up my mind about when he's the most annoying. When he's being like a grumpy two-year-old, or when he's being like an over-emotional soap opera actress.

"Why does everybody hate me," he sobs.

"I don't hate you, Julian. But I really think you should be living with your parents, and you should definitely go back to school, and just you know...sort your life out. It's not the end of the world, is it? You're gay, so what? It's the bloody 21st century, you won't get hanged, you know."

"Do you really think I could go back to my parents? You've met my dad now, do you really think he'd be glad to have me back?"

I sigh and Julian makes little yelping sobbing noises, wiping away tears with his right hand. He's probably right, but what has that got to do with me? I can't be responsible for a 17-year-old.

"I'm over the age of consent, you know..." he says, looking up at me from underneath his wet lashes.

"Jesus..."

"Shut up, you don't even believe in Jesus."

"Whatever."

"I'm only seven years younger than you, that's nothing. Plus you look younger, I thought you were 20, so that's only two and a half years..."

"Very impressive, Julian. Ever thought of becoming a maths teacher?"

"Just saying."

If I wouldn't have known how young he was, I probably would have, to be honest. But it just feels weird that he's been in my care for two weeks; it would still be like taking advantage. So basically, it's not going to happen. Definitely not.

---

After three weeks of having been taking care of Julian, it's becoming really difficult to hide him. And matters are made a lot worse by the fact that Julian by now is pretty fed up with seeing no one but me and every time someone's at the door, he's trying to get there before me to open. Thankfully he still can't walk on his left ankle; so far I'm always beating him to it.

On the Friday we're in front of the telly again, when someone knocks on my door. We've been sharing a couple of bottles of wine, so I'm a bit drunk, which is the reason I decide that now might actually be a good time to introduce Julian to whoever is at the door.

I peek out the window before I open. Turns out it's about five of my friends, enthusiastically led on by my partner-in-crime Melinda.

"Jake! You there? We've arranged an intervention!" She shouts and rings the doorbell 200 times in ten seconds.

"What the fuck is an intervention" I ask as I open the door for her, Liz, Nick, Noah and Dan.

"Jakey! We suspect you've got a problem with substance abuse, so we're here to tell you that you can live a good life without alcohol" she says and gives me a hug. I can hear Julian laughing from the living room.

"I've not got a problem with substance abuse, I've got a problem with an involuntary housemate, that's why I've been hiding from you" I say, feeling that honesty will probably be the best strategy here.

"Housemate, darling?" Melinda asks and the group looks like five question marks.

"Follow me and I'll introduce you," I say and lead the way to the living room.

Julian is absolutely beaming when he sees that he's got five new people to annoy. He's sitting slumped in my sofa, wearing a pair of my old jeans and a white t-shirt I've bought him because I was getting irritated by the way he made my clothes look enormous.

"Uh... Hi," Melinda says, "so you're Jake's new housemate then?"

Julian gets up and hops over to the group and starts introduce himself.

"Yeah, hi, I'm Julian, I've been living with Jake for three weeks. Sorry about the hopping, my ankle's a bit fucked so I can't really walk at the moment."

I decide to just leave him to it and go to the kitchen and fetch drinks for everyone. As I'm getting some beers from the fridge I can hear them all laugh, and I don't really want to think about what Julian is saying to them. I think I need a break, so I pop out to the little garden outside the kitchen and light a fag. I'm just about to stub it out and get back in when Liz joins me.

"Oh, he's a darling, isn't he! We were all hoping you'd meet someone like him."

"We're not--"

"And so cute! He's like a little doll, that's what my nana always used to say about boys like him. So what, if he's 18..."

"He's not eigh--"

"... I mean, how old were you when you met Mike, anyway? Julian told us you think he's a bit young, seven years is nothing, Jakey!"

"But we're--"

"And it's good for you with someone who's outgoing like that. He says you've got loads in common."

"No, we--"

"I'm so happy for you! We all are! How did you meet him?"

"I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

"Oh? Romantic, eh?"

"Let's go inside, Liz."

She helps me bring the drinks to the living room. Everyone sits around the natural centre of attention, Julian, listening to all the bollocks he's talking.

"Hey, Julian, haven't you told them how we met?" I ask, and I can't help but feeling a little - a little! - amused by the whole situation. But then again, I guess that's what three weeks without socialising does to you.

"Oh, right, yeah, I almost forgot. Ok, well, don't freak out until you've heard the whole story, yeah? I was feeling really miserable, so I was going for a midnight walk, you know, sometimes you just want to be alone, don't you?"

Liz and Melinda go "aw...".

"And as I was just crossing the road, suddenly I got hit by a car and everything went black. When I woke up I heard Jake calling my name, like 'Julian, Julian, you're alive!', things like that. He wanted to take me to the hospital, but I was just mesmerized by his eyes, so I told him I didn't need to, and asked him to take me back to his place. He refused, going 'no, you need to go to hospital', and I was like 'no, I've run away from home, no one can find me' and finally he gave in and carried me to his car and took me back here, and for the past three weeks he's been nurturing me back to health. He's like my guardian angel."

Liz and Melinda go "aw..." again and even the guys look a bit starry-eyed.

"That's really sweet... In a morbid way," Noah says.

"Yeah, well, he didn't tell you that it was me who run him over and that I was doing it because I was driving under the influence," I say, wondering if this will be the last time I see my friends.

"Uh...fucking hell, Jake," Melinda begins; "still though. Aw.. It's like so sweet!"

When they all leave, about five intensive hours later, they've decided that Julian and I are a match made in heaven and we should stay together forever.

I follow them to the front door and then go back to the living room where Julian is waiting, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"See," he says; "your friends agree with me, we'd make a great couple, you and me."

"Jesus..."

I sit down in the sofa and light a cigarette, wondering how my life turned weird so quickly. Julian moves over from the chair and sits down next to me. I look at him and he smiles back at me.

He grabs my free hand and brings it to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. I don't have the energy to argue with him anymore, so I just lean back in the sofa, continue to smoke and let Julian molest the knuckles on my left hand.

Then he stops and takes his t-shirt off. I just give him a disbelieving look, but say nothing until he unbuttons his, well, my jeans and is about to take them off.

"Julian, for fuck sake, keep your trousers on."

"What, you've already seen me naked," he says and quickly removes both jeans and boxers and drops them on the floor.

The bruising is almost entirely gone and he's looking normal. Fit. Actually. There's still something boyish lean about his build, but I guess that's what running does to you. Once naked, he starts kissing my hand again, sporting an erection so obvious it's almost obscene.

He's kissing my arm now, slowly making his way up. I need to stop this.

"Julian...?"

"What," he says and straddles me.

Being trapped underneath a naked, obviously aroused, guy would've been great normally, but this is Julian. 17-and-a-half-year-old Julian Adams. Way too young. And suicidal.

"I can't get involved with you," I say and look him in the eyes.

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to kill yourself first chance you get and I can't deal with that."

"Oh right. That."

He climbs off me and sits down next to me, not so aroused anymore.

"I wish you wouldn't, you know," I say and touch his hand.

"Yeah... I don't really want to as much as I did before, to be honest."

"I'm going to need time before I believe you."

"But then you're mine right?" He says and smiles happily.

"One step at the time, mate."

---

Three months later, his ankle is pretty much back to normal. He can walk with only the slightest limp and he's even started going for walks, doing some shopping, and generally looking after the house when I'm working. He's like my housewife in a weird and disturbing way. As much as I panicked that night a few months ago, I must admit I've grown to like his presence in the house.

I've not yet had sex with him, not that he hasn't tried. I'm still feeling slightly held back by the fact that he's seven years younger than I am, even though if it was up to my friends, Julian and I should've got married long ago.

When I get back from work one Thursday in December, he meets me in the front room with such a cheeky grin I just know I'm going to say yes to whatever he wants.

So when he asks me to kiss him, I do. And when he asks me to take him, I do, and it's amazing.

"See! What did I tell you? We're a brilliant couple," he says when we're on our backs, next to each other, on my bed, still slightly sweaty.

"Yeah, ok. We're a brilliant couple," I say, and he virtually attacks me with kisses.

The following week we have sex every chance we get. We spend every night together in my bed. He sleeps with his mouth closed; I've never seen anyone do that ever before. I don't know how many times we kiss, but it feels like we do very little else when we're together.

When I get back from work on the Friday, eight days later, there's a police car parked outside my house, and a female officer sitting on my doorstep, obviously waiting for me.

For a second, I'm considering driving away and escaping to Canada or something, but I guess I should've known I'd get figured out at some point. Julian's parents must've phoned the police, well, they probably did when he first disappeared, and now when he's started going for walks, someone's spotted him and contacted the police.

"Alright there?" I ask, as I get my door keys out, hoping that she'll have the good taste to arrest me out of the neighbours' sight.

"Jacob Friedman?"

"Yep. How can I help you?"

"Can I come in? I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

I'm suddenly feeling really sick.

"Of course."

I open the door and let her in. She asks me to sit down in the sofa.

"I'm really sorry to inform you that Julian Adams was found dead earlier today."

I look down at my hands. They suddenly feel all cold and clammy.

"He was carrying a letter with your name and address on it, and a request that we inform you."

Oh my god. Oh my god.

"How did he...?"

She sighs.

"He jumped off a bridge, just in front of a train."

"God," I whisper.

That night I'm sure I can still smell the scent of him in my bed as I cry. I cry until I pass out.

Shit.