Author: Anna Martin
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/anna-martin/page,19,529683-the_lost_boy.html
“If I have you, and Tone, and Stan… I think I might be alright.”
Stan smiled at him. “I reckon between the three of us we can keep you in one piece.”
Ben pressed the heel of his hand to his chest and pushed hard, hoping to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling there.
“Yeah. I hope so.”
His mum wanted them to stay for lunch, and Stan agreed before Ben could silently ask him if that was okay. He figured it would probably take some time to rebuild his relationship with his mum, but staying for lunch and letting her feed them was a good first step.
He wanted to reconnect with Mark, too, and the triplets, but that was probably going to be harder. Mark hadn’t exactly hidden his displeasure at some of Ben’s behaviour. Which Ben accepted—he’d been a horrible person and needed to earn their trust back. Now he was planning on being in London for the foreseeable future, it would hopefully be easier to start building those bridges again.
They left after lunch, before Mark and the kids got back from the football, and because Ben thought there was only so much he could do or say in one meeting. Now that the door was open to go back to his mum’s, he’d make an effort. He would. Because she mattered.
Ben’s other stop of the day was to fulfil a promise.
They got the train back to London, not because it was easier or quicker, but because Ben couldn’t face sitting in traffic trying to get back into the city again. Being on the train was different. He paid for first-class tickets and let himself look at Stan for a while, basking in being close to him.
Under the table, he hooked his foot around Ben’s.
“I’m okay,” Ben said. “Honestly. I feel better for having seen her.”
“I know I don’t exactly have the easiest relationship with my parents,” Stan said carefully. “Well, it’s easier now that I don’t go home, and they don’t have to see me.”
“I still think that’s bullshit, for what it’s worth.”
“It is what it is.”
Stan could shrug it off, so Ben tried to as well. He knew being like Stan in an extremely conservative country wasn’t easy. Stan did what he had to do to keep his relationships with his family in a place where everyone was happy.
“Thank you for coming with me today.”
“That’s okay. I thought it would be awkward, but it wasn’t. I like your mum.”
Ben smiled at him. “Me too. I want to see her more often. Maybe when I get somewhere new to live, she can come to London and see it.”
“That would be nice,” Stan agreed.
Ben dozed on the train journey and almost startled awake when they pulled into Paddington station. When Stan subtly suggested they take the underground back to Camden, Ben surprised himself by agreeing. The entire tube network would be bustling this late on a Saturday afternoon, which was better for not being noticed. People weren’t paying attention to anyone else the same way they sometimes did when the trains were less busy.
“Are we going home now?” Stan asked when they transferred to the Northern line.
“We can if you want. But there’s something else I want to do.”
“I don’t have plans.”
Camden station was a nightmare, as usual, but it wasn’t far around the corner to get to where Ben wanted to go. He stopped in front of the building, and Stan looked up at the sign above the door.
“You’re getting a tattoo?”
“Getting one covered up,” he corrected.
Stan leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Good.”
Here, too, Ben was greeted like an old friend. It helped that they’d all known Joey for a long time, well before Ares was even Ares.
“You fucking dickhead,” Joey laughed, pulling Ben into a hug. “How’s it going?”
“Not bad,” Ben said and slapped Joey’s back. “I’ve been worse.”
“Come on through.”
Ben reached back blindly for Stan’s hand, pleased when he felt Stan’s fingers wrap around his own.
Joey wasn’t the first person who had tattooed Ben, but Ben had gotten a fair few of his tattoos from Joey in the years since. He’d been the one to put the eagle on Ben’s sternum, and since then Ben had been more likely to go back to Joey’s place than anywhere else.
Like most tattoo artists, Joey was covered in tattoos himself, up his neck and down over his hands. He shaved his head and wore a nose ring, and subscribed to the ‘straight edge’ lifestyle—a subculture of the punk scene. For a long time Ben had thought he was batshit crazy. A nice guy, but batshit. Now he was starting to change his mind. The idea of going without drugs or alcohol or tobacco, and eating vegan and cutting out caffeine, all seemed like things that might actually help him.
“I blocked out a couple of hours to do this,” Joey said, gesturing for Ben to hop up onto his bench. “If it doesn’t take that long, I’ll just pick up some walk-ins.”
“Sounds good.”
“Any idea what you want?”
“I’m open to suggestions. Not a rose or anything, though. Something cool. Maybe space-y.”
“Alright, let’s have a look.”
Ben pulled up his shirt, and Stan shook his head again.
“I’m with you,” Joey said, stepping back so he and Stan could get a better look at the amorous stick men. “That’s terrible.”
“I know. Just cover it up and let this go down as one of my bad ideas corrected.”
“How about a planet?” Stan suggested.
Joey cocked his head to the side. “That could work. Something realistic? Because the lines are so thin I should be able to disguise them pretty easily with shading.”
“I think that would work with the other designs he has too,” Stan said.
“I haven’t done any planets in a while. Could be fun. Let me have a look.”
He went to a laptop that was covered in stickers and pulled up some pictures of moon tattoos.
“Like that,” Stan said, pointing to one design.
“I can do that,” Joey agreed. “Ben?”
“Works for me.”
Ben took his shirt off completely, feeling self-conscious in a way he hadn’t during any other tattoo appointment, and not just because of how bad his tattoo choices had been in recent years. Joey hadn’t seen him this skinny before, and Ben had become more and more aware of it in the past few weeks. Stan didn’t keep bathroom scales in the flat, for obvious reasons, but there were some in one of the bathrooms at the house.
Ben figured he’d lost at least twenty, maybe thirty pounds in the past few years. It didn’t look good on him. Instead of dwelling on it, Ben reached for Stan’s hand and looked at him while Joey got all his equipment together.
They hadn’t had sex again since the first time, and Ben wanted to, but the thought of planning it made him nervous. They were taking it slow, like Stan had wanted. Ben was okay with that. His body was a different matter, though. Logically, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to fix himself overnight. It had taken a long time to get to this point.
Baby steps. All of this was baby steps.
Joey snapped on black gloves and got the transfer together while Stan sat next to Ben and worked through emails on his phone. When Joey was ready, Ben leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Ready for this?” Joey asked.
“Yeah.”
Ben wondered if this would be his last tattoo. He hadn’t gotten any in a while, not since the last couple which had not been done in good conditions—either his mental state or the actual location. Getting tattoos at house parties wasn’t a good idea. Ever.
Covering up old mistakes with Stan by his side felt oddly symbolic. He couldn’t change the past, the things that had happened were done and he was learning to live with them. But he could make amends, put things right, and move forward.
The tattoo didn’t hurt, not really. He’d had far more painful tattoos that had taken a lot longer to get done. By the time Joey was wiping it down forty minutes later, Ben had found himself in a
sort of meditative daze.
“You want to look?” Joey asked.
“That’s so much better.” Stan leaned in to look. Ben took the opportunity to kiss his cheek.
“Thanks,” Joey said with a laugh, wiping the dots of blood off Ben’s skin again. “Can I take a picture?”
“Fuck yeah,” Ben said. He stretched, feeling himself come back online. It had been strangely more relaxing than a nap. “Blast it all over fucking Instagram. Drum up business.”
He took some pictures with Joey, tipped him well, and bought some lotion to keep the new tattoo healing nicely over the next few weeks. It was in an odd position, just above the waistband of his jeans, and Ben was worried about it rubbing. That hadn’t mattered with the old one, but this one he wanted to take care of.
“Are you alright?” Stan asked as they walked just up the high street to get back to his flat.
“Yeah. Good, actually.”
“I thought you didn’t like it when people took pictures of you.”
Ben shook his head slowly. “No, I get annoyed when people use me or the band to promote shit I don’t care about. It’s different with Joey. We’ve been friends for a long time. He’s really fucking talented too. If I can help him out, I want to.”
“Oh.” Stan smiled at him. “I get it now.”
“I’m hungry.”
That made Stan laugh. “Do you want to buy ingredients or go and buy something at the market?”
“Not the market.” They were in that weird period of time between the shops closing and the evening crowd coming out, but Camden was still busy. It was busy all the time on the weekend.
“Okay. Well, I have stuff to make a curry at the flat.”
Ben wrapped his arm around Stan’s shoulder. “When was the last time I told you I love you?”
“Creep,” Stan laughed.
Ben kissed him, and didn’t care who was watching.
Chapter Twenty One
Stan was still working through his feelings about Ben’s run-in with cocaine at the house party. Though Stan’s thoughts didn’t really matter while Ben was being slaughtered in the court of public opinion. He used to be able to tune out the vitriol that was directed towards the band from the press, but it was harder now he was more intimately involved with them again.
He turned off his news feed and deleted Twitter from his phone as a mental health concession to himself.
Tone and Ben had arranged a “bro-date,” and Ben had promised to talk to Tone about what had really happened at the party, as part of his no-more-lies promise to Stan. Usually the term “bro-date” would raise Stan’s hackles and set him off on the subject of fragile masculinity, but Ben and Tone were absolutely taking the piss out of the term instead of taking it seriously, so Stan let it go. He thought there probably wouldn’t be any long-term bad blood between them, but he also knew Tone was nearing the end of his patience with all of Ben’s bullshit. If Stan could help mediate—even a little bit—he would have achieved something.
While the boys were bonding, Stan went shopping.
He’d had chance to go through his wardrobe, sorting things he’d found in London and decided to bring home with him from New York. Some pieces he’d already set aside to donate or sell. They came with bad memories, like the suit he’d bought for an interview because he wanted to look more masculine. What was right for him at that time wasn’t right anymore, so he wanted to move on.
Stan headed back to Harrods because he was hoping to run into Olivia, and because his severance bonus had come in from New York and he was feeling flush.
He headed to womenswear, knowing most of what he was looking for would come from that department. For the first half hour or so, he meandered, peering into the shop windows in the designer section and lusting after a particularly stunning Moschino layered skirt.
Stan found Olivia at a till and sidled over, acting casual until she noticed him.
“You came back!”
“I did,” he agreed. “I’m shopping.”
“Want help?”
“Always.”
Olivia immediately abandoned her post and came to link her arm with Stan’s.
“You went to the show, I noticed.”
“I did. Thank you for the tip.”
“She’s good, hmm?”
“Very.” Stan stopped to admire a long satin dress in vivid blue. “I finished the article, and I’m shopping it around at the moment. No word yet if anyone will pick it up, but I’m hopeful.”
Olivia made an agreeing noise and led Stan back to a section with couture evening gowns.
“I’m not looking for eveningwear,” he said, immediately picking up a sparkling green dress.
“No one’s ever looking for eveningwear. It doesn’t mean we can’t look. So, tell me about the ex-boyfriend you’re seeing again.”
Stan rolled his eyes. Nothing got past Olivia. Not for long, anyway. “We’ve reconnected,” he said simply.
“And?”
“And, if you know Ben, he’s complicated and he comes with a lot of baggage. So we’ll see.”
“You’re such an enigma, Stan.” Olivia sighed. “Come on. If you’re not looking for dresses that you’ll look incredible in, I have some jeans that’ll make your ass look amazing.”
“I’m after dresses. Just not those kinds of dresses.”
Olivia raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him. “You want to let it all hang out?”
Stan laughed. “If you like.”
“Huh.”
“London is good for that kind of thing,” Stan said by way of an explanation. “I can get away with more here.”
“So you want something daring?”
“More edgy than daring.”
“I can work with that.”
Stan parted ways with Olivia an hour later and several thousand pounds poorer when she had to dash to a manager’s meeting. Which sounded deathly boring, and Stan was grateful he didn’t have to partake in that sort of thing. He took a break, heading down to the restaurants on the ground floor and finding a space at the sushi bar. He didn’t want to eat too much for lunch, not when Tone and Ben were preparing something of a feast back home.
He picked out a selection of delicious-looking pastries for dessert and had them keep his order in the fridge to collect later, then headed back upstairs.
The problem with moving so frequently, as Stan had done since he was a teenager, was that things tended to get lost or discarded as life and people moved on. Stan wasn’t particularly sentimental, so he didn’t put hold much attachment to physical objects. He’d always quite liked gifting things to friends when he moved and couldn’t take them with him.
It did mean that he often found himself without something that he wanted or needed in that particular moment. Not the worst problem in his life—more of a minor inconvenience.
Right now, for both his sake and Ben’s, Stan wanted some pretty underwear.
Maybe not pretty. Maybe something that would blow Ben’s mind.
That was a pretty tall order. They had been together for almost three years at the point when they broke up, so Ben had seen Stan in a lot of pretty things.
London had plenty of places to go and buy racy lingerie. He’d made a stop on his way to Harrods at a place where they had a line of very luxurious leather, pleather, and rubber offerings, but that really wasn’t his style. He could sometimes make an exception for leather.
Ben had always liked him in lace.
Stan hadn’t bought anything at the boutique and was pleased with that decision as he browsed the Harrods lingerie section. There were some truly ridiculously impractical offerings here too—Stan had never understood the appeal of bodysuits that were impossible to get off easily or sexily.
He paused at a display of floor-length, totally see-through dressing gowns that he could happily wear with nothing underneath. It was certainly one way to make an entrance.
Stan had always avoided bras with an underwire, since he didn’t
have anything to hold up and the empty cups made him feel self-conscious. The rise in popularity of wireless bralettes had definitely been a benefit.
Ben had been gently encouraging him to dress more like he used to since they started dating again, and Stan was still mentally unpicking why. He didn’t think it was because Ben preferred it when he dressed more feminine, though he frequently caught Ben staring at his bare legs if he was wearing shorts or a skirt.
He had a feeling it had something to do with authenticity.
Or to put it more succinctly: Ben saw through the bullshit.
There had only been one period in his life when Stan had dressed completely however the fuck he’d wanted, and that was when he first moved to London with nothing to lose, and the few years after that when he was with Ben. If anyone could tell that Stan was hiding behind boring, inoffensive clothes, it was Ben.
Stan couldn’t deny that he was loving being able to do that again, even if it did mean his morning routine took more like forty-five minutes rather than fifteen.
He picked up one of the ridiculous dressing gowns, two lacy underwear sets—one in black and the other vivid purple—and one of the impractical bodysuits. He’d fallen in love with the white mesh, embroidered with peach-and-lemon-coloured flowers and tiny delicate green leaves, with cutouts in interesting places. God only knew how he was going to get into and out of it, but he had a feeling they’d have fun figuring it out.
Stan was back downstairs in the Food Hall to pick up his pastries, laden with bags, when he got the text from Ben to say they’d accidentally made enough chilli to feed a small army and the whole band was now invited to dinner. Stan went back to the counter and ordered more desserts.
He wondered what the hell was going on between Ben and Tone and Summer and the boys. They really weren’t good at communicating. Maybe he’d get them to sit in a circle and talk about their feelings again.
Ben’s text made it clear that Stan was expected to join them when he was done, but he didn’t much fancy heading into the house with bags emblazoned with lingerie brand names. So he got the cab to drop him off at the flat first, hid all the bags in his wardrobe—it wasn’t Tone’s room anymore, it was his again, and Stan was making the most of it—and got changed into one of his new outfits. Mostly because he’d splurged on the Moschino skirt and wanted to show it off.