A Friend of Mine
Alasdair
Alasdair arrived with a small bag of Benjamin’s belongings and an apology for being late. “We had a little trouble in theatre,” he said, hovering near the doorway. He handed over the bag to Juliana. “It’s not much, just his jacket, some deodorant and hand lotion.”
Juliana scoffed at that last item, shaking her head. Of course. “He was some boy,” she said, sadness doing battle with fondness. “Never know when you’re going to need to give out a good handshake,” she mimicked, Benjamin’s voice echoing in her ear.
“I know, right?” Alasdair said, his laugh light and airy. “Why couldn’t he just have been a miserable bastard like the rest of us?”
There was a brief moment of quiet between them before Juliana invited Alasdair inside, bag clutched tight in her hands. Somewhat to her surprise, Alasdair accepted and followed her down the short hall into the living-room. He perched down awkwardly on the couch as Juliana set the bag down on the coffee table and scuttled back to the kitchen to make him a cup of tea.
“God, if only it’d been as easy for me to get him up here,” Benjamin said from where he stood by the window, his elbows on the sill. “Please don’t do that thing where two grieving people bang over their mutual sadness. That’ll really kill me.”
Juliana scrunched her face up as she threw a teabag into each cup she’d set out. “Bloody likely. He’s a five.”
“A solid seven and a surgeon,” Benjamin said, pushing himself away from the window. He stopped beside Juliana, his presence eerily cold. “If you ask nicely, maybe he’ll give your eyes a check.”
Pausing between pouring water from the kettle, Juliana shot Benjamin a look, then continued. “One, I don’t think that’s in his job description, and two, has being dead made you cheekier? I think it has.”
Benjamin twisted around, leaning on the counter. “The injustice of murder has made me somewhat bitter, what can I say?” He tucked his arms around himself then, staring at the floor. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip and chewed. “I don’t mean to be,” he said, quieter, smaller, and looked up, eyes a little duller than usual. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Juliana returned to the living-room, Benjamin hot on her heels. Alasdair was slightly slumped in his seat, eyes red and tired as he stifled a yawn. Juliana tried not to react to Benjamin’s coos as he sat down on the couch by Alasdair, close but not quite touching, as though afraid he might feel him if he did. Eyes on Benjamin watching Alasdair with an almost sickening affection, she almost missed the small thank you he gave her as she handed over a cup.
For the most part, it was awkward. They weren’t friends, really. Barely even acquaintances, and the only thing that tied them together was gone. Well, he was supposed to be.
“He adored you, you know,” Alasdair said suddenly. “I could never get him to shut up at the best of times, but it was completely impossible when you were concerned. You must’ve really loved each other.”
“Yeah, we did,” Juliana said as she stared at Benjamin smiling sadly, then back at Alasdair peering curiously at her. She cleared her throat. “He adored you, too. I actually think he might’ve—” Juliana stopped herself, watching Benjamin’s eyes blow wide and his body jerk forward towards her. Even in death he couldn’t stand the embarrassment of Alasdair knowing—but he deserved to. “I think he loved you.”
“We were talking in the garden right before he was—before he passed, and he asked me what I was doing for Hogmanay. I said I wasn’t sure,” Alasdair told her, unprompted and launching into a story she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to hear. By the way Alasdair’s eyes wandered off and his shoulders tensed forward, it was probably something he needed to get off his chest. “He was down having a smoke, skiving no doubt,” Alasdair continued with a smile. “I only stood with him for a minute, blew him off completely. Now I—I keep having this dream that if I’d just given him five more minutes of my time…”
Juliana watched Benjamin shift closer to Alasdair, mouth and hand twitching like he wanted nothing more than to comfort the other man. Alasdair let out a shuddery breath and Benjamin squeezed his eyes shut, flinching in the other’s agony.
“Don’t say that,” Juliana said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Sometimes I think it’s easier that I didn’t let myself love him back,” Alasdair said, making Benjamin drop his head down, broken and defeated, “and sometimes I kick myself for not letting myself have that, even for a little while.” Alasdair let out a distressed laugh. “What are the chances of someone like that ever loving me again?”
“They will,” Benjamin soothed though Alasdair couldn’t hear him. When he tried petting his hair, Alasdair shivered. “Tell him, Juliana,” Benjamin said sternly. “Tell him.”
“More likely than you think,” she said, making Alasdair pick his head up and send a watery smile her way.
Juliana scoffed at that last item, shaking her head. Of course. “He was some boy,” she said, sadness doing battle with fondness. “Never know when you’re going to need to give out a good handshake,” she mimicked, Benjamin’s voice echoing in her ear.
“I know, right?” Alasdair said, his laugh light and airy. “Why couldn’t he just have been a miserable bastard like the rest of us?”
There was a brief moment of quiet between them before Juliana invited Alasdair inside, bag clutched tight in her hands. Somewhat to her surprise, Alasdair accepted and followed her down the short hall into the living-room. He perched down awkwardly on the couch as Juliana set the bag down on the coffee table and scuttled back to the kitchen to make him a cup of tea.
“God, if only it’d been as easy for me to get him up here,” Benjamin said from where he stood by the window, his elbows on the sill. “Please don’t do that thing where two grieving people bang over their mutual sadness. That’ll really kill me.”
Juliana scrunched her face up as she threw a teabag into each cup she’d set out. “Bloody likely. He’s a five.”
“A solid seven and a surgeon,” Benjamin said, pushing himself away from the window. He stopped beside Juliana, his presence eerily cold. “If you ask nicely, maybe he’ll give your eyes a check.”
Pausing between pouring water from the kettle, Juliana shot Benjamin a look, then continued. “One, I don’t think that’s in his job description, and two, has being dead made you cheekier? I think it has.”
Benjamin twisted around, leaning on the counter. “The injustice of murder has made me somewhat bitter, what can I say?” He tucked his arms around himself then, staring at the floor. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip and chewed. “I don’t mean to be,” he said, quieter, smaller, and looked up, eyes a little duller than usual. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Juliana returned to the living-room, Benjamin hot on her heels. Alasdair was slightly slumped in his seat, eyes red and tired as he stifled a yawn. Juliana tried not to react to Benjamin’s coos as he sat down on the couch by Alasdair, close but not quite touching, as though afraid he might feel him if he did. Eyes on Benjamin watching Alasdair with an almost sickening affection, she almost missed the small thank you he gave her as she handed over a cup.
For the most part, it was awkward. They weren’t friends, really. Barely even acquaintances, and the only thing that tied them together was gone. Well, he was supposed to be.
“He adored you, you know,” Alasdair said suddenly. “I could never get him to shut up at the best of times, but it was completely impossible when you were concerned. You must’ve really loved each other.”
“Yeah, we did,” Juliana said as she stared at Benjamin smiling sadly, then back at Alasdair peering curiously at her. She cleared her throat. “He adored you, too. I actually think he might’ve—” Juliana stopped herself, watching Benjamin’s eyes blow wide and his body jerk forward towards her. Even in death he couldn’t stand the embarrassment of Alasdair knowing—but he deserved to. “I think he loved you.”
“We were talking in the garden right before he was—before he passed, and he asked me what I was doing for Hogmanay. I said I wasn’t sure,” Alasdair told her, unprompted and launching into a story she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to hear. By the way Alasdair’s eyes wandered off and his shoulders tensed forward, it was probably something he needed to get off his chest. “He was down having a smoke, skiving no doubt,” Alasdair continued with a smile. “I only stood with him for a minute, blew him off completely. Now I—I keep having this dream that if I’d just given him five more minutes of my time…”
Juliana watched Benjamin shift closer to Alasdair, mouth and hand twitching like he wanted nothing more than to comfort the other man. Alasdair let out a shuddery breath and Benjamin squeezed his eyes shut, flinching in the other’s agony.
“Don’t say that,” Juliana said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Sometimes I think it’s easier that I didn’t let myself love him back,” Alasdair said, making Benjamin drop his head down, broken and defeated, “and sometimes I kick myself for not letting myself have that, even for a little while.” Alasdair let out a distressed laugh. “What are the chances of someone like that ever loving me again?”
“They will,” Benjamin soothed though Alasdair couldn’t hear him. When he tried petting his hair, Alasdair shivered. “Tell him, Juliana,” Benjamin said sternly. “Tell him.”
“More likely than you think,” she said, making Alasdair pick his head up and send a watery smile her way.