Author: Anna Martin
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/anna-martin/page,17,529683-the_lost_boy.html
“Shit,” Stan said. He rushed back to the bedroom to pull on socks and trainers. He could go out in yoga pants and a sweatshirt—he wasn’t that much of a princess. “How did you find out?”
“Well, it seems like whoever called the cops called the paps too. So there’s pictures all over the fucking tabloids of Ben being escorted away by the boys in blue.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I’ll be there in five. Meet you outside.”
Stan threw his hair into a ponytail, grabbed his keys, and ran downstairs to meet him.
The police station in Hackney was quiet at this time on a Sunday morning—apparently there wasn’t much activity going on before eight. The night shift had just handed over and the guy working the desk had a mug of coffee at his elbow.
“We can release him,” he said, nodding, after Tone gave him Ben’s name. “He’s going to be under caution until we’re done with the investigation.”
Stan nodded. “Can you let him know Tone and Stan are here?”
“I’ll need your full names and addresses.”
“Stanislav Novikov.” He spelled it out.
“Daniel Jones.”
Stan did a double take. He knew ‘Tone’ wasn’t his given name, but it was still weird to hear him call himself anything else.
They were sent to a waiting area, and almost an hour later Ben was brought out by a very bored-looking female PC.
“Hey,” Stan said softly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fucking tired and pissed off,” Ben said.
“Want to come back to mine?”
“Yes. Please.”
Stan took his hand and squeezed.
Tone called for another car to take them home again, and Ben seemed reluctant to talk about anything until they got back inside. Tone came upstairs, and Stan immediately went to the kitchen to make tea and toast.
“What happened?” Tone asked as soon as Ben was settled on the sofa. Stan didn’t think too hard about how it was like they had turned the clocks back a few weeks, like it was when they first got back to London and Ben refused to talk to either of them about anything.
“How well do you know that guy Shane? From the studio?”
“Not at all,” Tone said. “Chuck an extra sugar in that for me, Stan love? I fucking need it this morning.”
Stan added a fourth spoonful of sugar to Tone’s tea and took it over to him. Tone squeezed his ass to say thank you, which Stan took to mean everything was right in the world.
“Thanks,” Ben mumbled when Stan passed him his own mug.
“Well, he asked me if I wanted to go hang out with some guys after we finished recording, and I thought, fuck it, why not, and went with them. I didn’t realise it was a full-blown fucking house party.”
“The paps got you,” Tone said gently.
“Fuck!” Ben exploded, and Stan didn’t blame him. “Geordie is not going to believe me that I didn’t touch that shit. I didn’t take anything.”
“It’s okay, Ben. It’s alright.”
That was what Ben needed to hear, clearly. He slumped back into the sofa, and Stan made quick work of making the big pile of toast.
“I can do more if we need it,” he said, taking the first pile over for the three of them to share. Stan went to sit on the floor, but Ben pulled him onto his lap instead. That was definitely more comfortable.
Ben pressed his face to Stan’s neck, for a moment, then let him go to grab some toast.
“What are we going to tell the press? Did anyone call Melissa yet? How bad is it?”
Tone shook his head. He had a mouthful of toast. Stan took his own piece and nibbled on the edge. He wasn’t really hungry.
“You don’t need to worry,” Stan said. “We can go over to the house when you’re ready, and you can talk to everyone.”
“It’s going to turn into another fucking argument,” Ben said. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
“You want to go for a shower?” Stan asked.
“Yeah.” Ben wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist and squeezed him tighter.
“Should I go?” Tone asked. “If you’re gonna start getting freaky, I’m leaving.”
“Hey,” Ben said, grabbing Tone’s wrist, then pulling him in closer so he could look meaningfully into Tone’s eyes. “I have never loved another person on this planet the way I love you. You know that, right?”
“Ben. You are so gay.”
Ben laughed, slapped him on one cheek, and kissed the other.
“Love you too, man,” Tone said, getting up and brushing toast crumbs from his shirt. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll let you out,” Stan said, attempting to get up off Ben’s lap.
“Don’t bother.” Tone waved him off. “I’ll see you later too, sweet cheeks.”
Stan waited until Tone had closed the door behind himself, then shuffled round to face Ben.
“Now tell me the truth.”
Ben licked his lips. “I was planning on it.”
“Don’t—” Stan was almost vibrating with anger. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Stan. I took one bump of cocaine. One.”
“I don’t care that you messed up, Ben. That’s part of recovering. It’s not easy. But I’m really pissed off that you lied to me about it.”
“I was going to tell you, I swear to God. I just couldn’t tell Tone. He’s been through so much bullshit already.”
“He knows too, you asshole,” Stan yelled. “Of course he does. He knows you better than I do.”
Ben dropped his head and didn’t say anything.
“Maybe this isn’t going to work.” Stan went to get up, but Ben grabbed his hand.
“No. Please, Stan. Please. I’m sorry.”
“You have to be honest with me,” Stan said, sitting back down on the sofa. “That’s what fucked this up the last time. I couldn’t take all the lying all the time.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It is, Ben.” Stan’s chest felt tight and his throat heavy, like he was going to cry. “For Christ’s sake. If you need to take cocaine that badly, then tell me, and I’ll come with you and look after you when you’ve done it to make sure nothing bad happens to you. I don’t expect you to be perfect while you’re recovering.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Of course I would!” Stan pushed angry tears from his eyes. “I don’t understand. I don’t get why you need it. But if you do, at least let me help you.”
“I just….”
Ben looked wrung out, like he hadn’t slept in days. He almost certainly hadn’t slept the night before, and Stan was angry at himself too for getting angry at Ben, even though he knew his reaction was justifiable.
“Right now I don’t want it. It’s when people lay it out in front of you and go help yourself. It’s like willpower doesn’t even exist. Even if I want to say no, it’s like…. It was one line of cocaine. I shouldn’t have gone to the party, but I thought….”
“What?”
Ben sighed heavily. “I thought it would be nice to have some friends in London who are part of the industry. People who wouldn’t let me get mixed up in that shit.”
Stan leaned back against the sofa and put his hands over his face.
“I’m sorry,” Ben said again in a very quiet voice.
Stan silently fumed on his behalf. This boy. This fucking boy, who was so innocent and so trusting and saw the best in everyone. It really wasn’t any wonder someone had managed to lead him astray.
“Okay. Please, Ben, don’t lie to me again.”
“I won’t.”
“What do you need?” Stan asked. “Are you hurting?”
“Not really. I’m tired, though.”
“Okay. Go to bed for a few hours, and I’ll wake you up so we can get some lunch.”
Ben nodded and disappeared down the hallway.
Stan heard a light knock at the door and glanced down the hallway
on his way to answer it. Ben’s door remained closed. He was surprised to see Summer standing there.
“Hey,” he said. “Come in. Ben’s asleep.”
“I guessed, yeah.”
She looked good—better than when Stan had seen her in LA, and better than her weepy state in the kitchen when he got back from New York. She’d put on a light, flowery summer dress and red lipstick, curled her hair and left her clompy Dr Martens boots unlaced. She was rocking a throwback 90’s vibe, and Stan was digging it.
Since getting back to London, Summer had dyed her hair, too; it was dark chestnut brown now, thick and shiny. Stan thought the new look was probably serving more than one purpose. It made her almost unrecognisable to the people who were expecting to see her with bleached blonde or pink hair. And the band was gearing up to promote the new album. She looked a little more mature like this, sexy and strong.
“Do you want a drink or anything?”
“I’m okay, thanks. I came to talk to you.”
He gestured to the living room, and Summer went and sat at one corner of the sofa.
“Tone caught me up on what happened last night.”
“Yeah. He’s tired this morning, so….”
Summer shook her head. “Tone said he got high.”
“He only told me that after Tone left.”
“I’m not going to ask for the circumstances or anything.” She blew out her cheeks as she sighed. “You’re back together?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“I really hope this doesn’t come off as patronising, because I don’t mean it that way. But you really don’t know what we’ve been through these past few years.”
“With Ben?”
“Yeah. I’m sure Tone gave you the CliffsNotes version.”
Stan bristled a little. “I’m trying to catch up on a lot, Summer.”
“I’m not being a bitch, I promise. It’s just… I know you’ve always seen the best in Ben, which is awesome, because everyone deserves that. It hasn’t been a picnic since you guys broke up. We thought he was going to die, more than once. He’s been blackmailed by dealers. We’ve had people threatening to take the whole band down because of shit Ben’s been caught up in. We’ve tried therapy and rehab and letting him do his own thing and come to his own conclusions because he’s an adult. I stopped taking him to hospital when he was overdosing about eighteen months ago. Now we just call an ambulance and let him go on his own.”
“Wow,” Stan murmured.
“Like I said, I’m not trying to be a bitch. I love Ben so much….” She choked up. “So fucking much. He’s my brother. Which is why I had to let him go. In my heart. I had to protect myself, in a way, so I’ve been grieving for him for a long time already. We were pretty much just waiting for him to die before Tone called you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Stan said. He reached over and took her hand. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is that Ben’s an addict, Stan. He’s addicted to drugs, and that’s never going to change. Addicts are liars.”
“He didn’t want to upset Tone—” Stan started, but Summer was already shaking her head.
“He’ll tell you that,” she said. “He’ll tell you he was somewhere else, with someone else, doing anything but taking drugs. He’ll make excuses for where the money went, for why he disappears for days or weeks on end. He’ll sweet talk you where necessary or lie or gaslight or get aggressive. Because that’s what drug addicts do.”
Stan took a deep breath. She was right, of course.
Summer squeezed his hand. “I’m not telling you to do anything different. You’re a grown man too. If you want to date him, then you should. But he’s going to break your heart, Stan. Again. And again, and again.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Stan asked. He felt the tears in his eyes and knew he was begging. “What if he gets the support he needs and gets clean and—”
“And all it takes is someone to love him, right? He’s been surrounded by love and support and everything he needs for years, Stan. He’s had every opportunity, every clinic, every therapist, every fucking resource we could throw at him to help him get better.”
“So you, what, just wait for him to die? I can’t do that Summer. I can’t.”
Summer shook her head. “I’m not telling you to do anything different. I just want you to have all the information. If you’re going to be with him, then you deserve to know what you’re getting into.”
“These past few weeks….” Stan trailed off as he listened for any movement from Ben’s room. It was only on the other side of the kitchen, so he could usually hear when Ben got up.
“He’s vile when he’s high or coming down,” Stan said.
Summer gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah.”
“Really… just awful. It wasn’t easy. He ran off to his old flat and found a load of drugs and got totally off his face.”
That wasn’t a secret. He didn’t feel bad for sharing.
“I’m—” Summer sighed again. “—not surprised.”
“Did you know he put the flat on the market? Since then, he came back and said he was done with it. And he’s been clean between then and last night. That’s what… three, four weeks?”
“He was clean for three months once,” Summer said. “Just before the last album came out. Then the album dropped, and he fucking disappeared.”
“I know what you’re saying, I really do. Summer… I’m never going to forgive myself if I don’t give him a chance. God knows if he deserves it or not. If I’m wrong, and I probably am, but if I’m wrong, I’ll deal with it. I’ll go and get the therapy and work through my own issues about the ex-boyfriend who has haunted my life.” He gave her a watery sort of smile.
“You’re a good person, Stan. Don’t let him bring you down, okay?”
“Can I ask you for something?”
“Sure.”
Stan considered his next words carefully. “I need your help. So does Ben. He’s been so much better since we got back to London, and I think… I think if we can put something together so you can all keep playing music together and he can have a bit more control over the things that make him anxious, we might have a chance. But I really don’t think I can do it on my own. I need you guys to help me.”
“Oh, Stan.”
Summer folded herself in half, pressing her forehead to her knees. Stan rubbed her back for a bit. When she straightened up, he saw she hadn’t been crying.
“I never wanted to give up on him in the first place,” she said. Not crying, then, but trying not to. “He broke my heart.”
“Give him a chance to fix it.”
“If you’re wrong….”
“I’ll pay for your therapy,” Stan offered, which made her laugh.
“Okay.”
“Together? We might have a shot at this. He’s worth it. The guy I fell in love with when I was twenty-two was such an amazing person. I want to do it for him.”
“You’re back on Team Ares, then,” Summer said. “I know you have connections. I want you to do a write-up of that tour when we start it. Make everyone see your vision for our homecoming the way you told it to us.”
“I can do that.”
She stood and pulled Stan into a hug. Not a bro-hug—a proper, all limbs, little sister hug. Stan kissed the top of her head.
“You’re a silver-tongued charmer, Mr Novikov,” Summer said, her voice slightly muffled by his shirt. “I was supposed to convince you to go back to New York, not let you convince me to stay in London.”
“London is amazing. LA sucks. You’re much better here.”
“That,” she said, punching him on the arm, “we can agree on.”
He gave Summer another hug, holding her for longer than was probably socially acceptable. Then he walked her to the door and carefully shut it behind her, with a promise that he’d be over to see her soon.
When Stan turned around again, Ben was standing in the
doorway to his bedroom.
“I need to go,” he croaked.
“No,” Stan said, realising that Ben must have heard if not everything, then a lot. “You don’t.”
Stan went to him and took his hand, then gently tugged him back to bed.
“Stan.”
“It’s okay.”
Stan kicked back the blankets and got in, lying on his back so Ben could curl up against his side. It took a lot of convincing to get Ben there. When he was finally settled, Stan brushed his fingers through Ben’s hair, carefully combing through the knots.
He held Ben as he shook, as he wept, as he ached from the aftermath of one mistake. One in a long line of mistakes.
“Tell me about the EP,” Stan said when Ben seemed more settled.
“It’s not much.”
“Tell me about it anyway.”
“I’ve only written two songs. I kind of have a concept for it, though.”
“Yeah?”
Ben fiddled with the hem of Stan’s T-shirt. “It’s about circles. Redemption. Forgiveness.” He whispered the last word. “Forgiving myself, asking for forgiveness from other people.”
“That’s very brave of you.”
“I want to go see my mum.”
Stan closed his eyes so he didn’t cry. “Okay.”
“Will you come with me?”
“If you want me to. I’m sure she’d come to London, though, if you asked her to.”
“I haven’t seen her in a long time. Not since last Christmas. I haven’t spoken to her since January.”
“How come?”
“Same reason I didn’t talk to anyone else. I didn’t want her to see what I was doing.”
“She’s your mum, Ben,” Stan said. He curled his arm around Ben’s shoulder to keep him close. “She loves you.”
“I know Summer thinks some horrible things about me, and fuck, most of them are right. Most of this shit is about trying to hide stuff from people, though. I ran away because I didn’t want them to see me when I was so fucked up. I never wanted them to have to clean me up and watch me fail over and over again.”
“I don’t think you failed, Ben.”
“I did,” he insisted. “Over and over again. I wanted the fucking therapy to work. I wanted the rehab to stick. It did, sometimes, and then something would happen, and….”