The drive to Covent Garden from the convention seemed to take forever. Dannel wanted to scream directions at the driver. London traffic, though, wasn’t for the faint of heart.
Their cabbie wasn’t trying to be difficult for the fun of it. They’d simply picked a bad time of day to rush home. He settled into the seat with a hand resting on Osian’s knee, trying to offer some small measure of comfort.
Grief was strange, a mercurial monster that Dannel didn’t know how to approach.
After what seemed like a century, the cabbie pulled up outside of their building. They paid him, ran up the stairs to their flat, changed out of their costumes, showered together, and collapsed on the couch in sheer emotional and physical exhaustion. And Dannel still didn’t know what to say to Osian.
Their friend had died. Osian had once again been faced with a situation where even his best herculean efforts hadn’t saved a life. No words would make him feel better.
“What did Roland say?” Osian broke the silence in their apartment first.
“Don’t talk to the detectives without a solicitor again.” Dannel paraphrased his brother’s advice toward the end of their lengthy text conversation. “Or ever.”
“They aren’t going to railroad me.” He was more confident than Dannel felt.
“It’s not about them. A solicitor has your interests at heart. The detectives have a case to solve.” Dannel loved his brother and uncle, both of whom worked or had worked in the police force. He didn’t have blinders on when it came to all of the various cases they’d studied for the podcast, some involving innocent people who’d been convicted erroneously. “We’re not taking any chances. I believe they’ll do their best to find the killer. I’m not risking you on the off-chance they make a mistake.”
They lapsed into silence again. Dannel was starkly reminded of the weeks immediately after Osian had quit work. He was sad about Gemma, but he couldn’t do anything for her now.
She was gone.
Osian, on the other hand, was alive and suffering. Dannel wanted nothing more than to alleviate his pain. He didn’t feel equipped for the task at hand.
Should I call Abra? She knows both of them. Maybe she’ll know what to say.
“Ossie?”
Getting no response, Dannel decided to handle ordering food on his own. Most of the time, Osian made those calls when required. Dannel tended to get tongue-tied trying to talk on the phone.
Thank the internet gods for online ordering.
When Roland and Wayne showed up, they’d run into the delivery person and brought the food up with them. Dannel gestured with his head toward Osian, who hadn’t moved from the couch. He figured maybe they could help with more than just the legal aspect.
“Thanks for the invite, mate.” Wayne carried one of the bags with dinner over to the kitchen. “I’m happy to help any way I can.”
“Ossie?” Dannel called over to Osian, who hadn’t bothered to great their guests. “You joining us?”
“Not hungry.” Osian shifted off the couch and disappeared down the hall.
Shifting from one foot to the other, Dannel didn’t know how to approach his boyfriend. Should they leave him alone? Or force him to come out to sit with them?
“Go talk to him.” Roland nudged his brother into action. “We’ll get the food set up. Make sure you’re patient with him.”
“I am,” Dannel insisted. “I haven’t pressed him once for anything.”
Roland held his hands up. “I know, big brother, I know. Not an accusation, man.”
Dannel watched his brother through narrowed eyes for a few seconds. “Fine. Sounded like an accusation.”
Leaving the two in the kitchen, Dannel went to retrieve Osian. He found him flopped on top of the bed with the Uncharted soundtrack playing. His arm covered his face.
Dannel sat on the edge of the bed closest to Osian. He hesitated before reaching out to grasp his boyfriend’s hand. “I want to help, but I don’t know how.”
With a watery chuckle, Osian slowly sat up. He kept a firm grip on Dannel’s hand. They sat in silence for a minute, broken only by sniffles.
“Roland can come back later.” Dannel had no doubt his brother would complain, but he’d go anyway. “He’ll whinge, which is nothing new.”
“Be nice to your baby brother. We might need someone on the inside if I get arrested.” Osian managed a less watery laugh. “They came all this way. The food will get cold.”
“We have a microwave.”
“Not the point.” Osian rested his head against him. “Also, inside voice.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Dannel tried hard to moderate the volume of his voice; it never seemed to work. He had two modes—quiet and loud. “So? Dinner?”
“And beer. We’ll raise one for Gemma.”
Dinner and beer sounded amazing. For Dannel, the entire process was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. He’d overextended his ability to deal with people, even his loved ones, for the day.
Trying to listen to the conversation floating around, Dannel couldn’t filter out the sounds of eating and drinking. The cacophony of noise drowned out any words. He rubbed his forehead with a quiet groan.
“I—” He cut himself off, not knowing how to express himself. Words seemed to vanish no matter how hard he tried to hold on to them to form sentences. “Ossie.”
“Why don’t you get some quiet time? I’ll deal with these two muppets.” Osian proved once again how well he knew Dannel. “Love you.”
Muttering a response, Dannel was the one to flee down the hall this time. He grabbed his noise-cancelling headphones, turning on one of his favourite gaming playlists and relaxing in the darkness of their bedroom. The day had been too long, too overwhelming for his sensory issues; he wanted musical silence until the buzzing in his mind went away.
They didn’t need him to brainstorm anyway. He couldn’t really put sentences together at the moment, even if he wanted. Am I getting to the point where I can’t go to cons anymore?
Just thinking about not being able to attend conventions again devastated Dannel. For one, it was something he and Osian enjoyed so much as a couple. He’d thrown so much of his life outside of work and his relationship into cosplay.
It wasn’t fair.