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“—Tuesday, 27 August on Radio 2’s Breakfast Show. But first, in honour of their announced reunion tour, it gives me great pleasure to say, anyway, here’s ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.”
Alex groaned into his pillow and reached out to smack his clock radio into silence. He should have switched to using his mobile as his alarm a solid decade ago, but he’d gotten used to waking up to Rachel on his DAB/FM radio and was far too entrenched in the habit to change it now, even if he had made the switch from Virgin Radio to BBC Radio 2 since her departure from the radio.
Speaking of, Rachel also let out a groan from next to him. “You have to get a different alarm,” she said, her voice muffled by her pillow. Alex just huffed a laugh as he reached for his phone, too used to this particular argument to bother countering, and Rachel rolled over to poke him in the side. “What’s the point of getting a lie in on days when you do the school run if I just get woken up by Oasis of all sodding things?”
“Could be worse,” Alex told her, shifting so that she could curl up against him.
She squinted up at him. “How so?”
He bent down to kiss the top of her head. “You could be woken up by Oasis and still have to do the school run,” he pointed out. “Besides, I did manage to turn it off before any Oasis was actually heard.”
“Barely.”
Alex just shook his head fondly. “Shall I bring you a coffee before I leave with the boys to make up for it?” he asked.
She brightened. “Oh, yes please,” she said, as if she didn’t know full well that he would’ve done so regardless.
Just one of a million little moments that kept them happy after almost twenty years of marriage.
Alex kissed her once more before carefully extricating himself and standing and stretching. He was halfway to the door when she called sleepily after him, “Oh, can you also pick up some eggs on your way back?”
Alex frowned, fairly certain he’d just picked some up the last time he did the shopping. “Didn’t I just—”
“You did, but you used them all in your task testing yesterday.”
Alex winced at the memory. At least his boys had quite a bit of fun destroying about a dozen eggs, and they might even have gotten a proper task idea out of it. “Right. Sorry.”
Rachel smirked. “Don’t apologise to me,” she said sweetly, “apologise to the food waste charities you’re going to have to send a big cheque to after whatever task this was for airs.”
“Avalon should take care of that,” Alex pointed out.
“That makes it all right, then,” Rachel said, her words practically dripping in saccharine sarcasm.
Alex scowled at her. “Maybe I should let you get your own coffee.”
It was an idle threat, and they both knew it, though Rachel’s laugh probably didn’t need to sound quite so smug before she changed subjects. “You still meeting up with Tim for drinks tonight?” she asked, pulling Alex’s pillow over to her side of the bed.
He nodded. “That is the plan, at least.”
She put his pillow on top of hers before nestling onto them, looking at once cosy, content, and unbearably smug. “I’ll plan what Oasis song to wake you up with tomorrow carefully, then,” she told him through a yawn. “Good for a hangover, I assume.”
“Hilarious.”
Rachel just laughed. “I learned from the best.”
She and Alex looked at each other for the barest fraction of a second before simultaneously supplying the expected punchline: “Greg.”
Alex shook his head fondly before telling her, “I’ll be back with coffee.”
She settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes. “Good.”
Alex closed the door quietly after him as he headed out to go round up the boys and make sure they were ready for school.
It was, all told, a perfectly ordinary start to what promised to be a perfectly normal day.
If only Alex had any clue how wrong he’d turn out to be.
Alex was of the opinion that he and Tim had never actually finished a conversation. They simply set it down for a while and would come back to it hours, days, weeks, months, and yes, sometimes years later, as if no time had passed at all.
Which probably explained Tim’s reaction that evening to Alex’s good-natured and several-drinks-inspired light teasing about the likelihood of Tim eventually settling down at some point. “Must you always bring it up?” he asked sourly, taking a pull from his beer, despite the fact that Alex was fairly certain they’d not discussed this for years. “You’re as bad as my mum.”
“Has it occurred to you that Carol might be right?” Alex countered.
Tim scowled at him. “Has it occurred to you that until you do something about your big man, you haven’t got a leg to stand on?”
Alex was fairly certain the blush in his cheeks couldn’t fully be explained away by the beer. “That’s not the same thing,” he said.
“Isn’t it?” Tim asked mildly, as if recognising that he was well on his way to deflecting from himself.
It was Alex’s turn to scowl at him. “No,” he said flatly.
Tim just shrugged blithely. “Doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t give out advice you’re not willing to take, mate.”
In general, Tim was the one who had no leg whatsoever to stand on when it came to the subject of his personal life, but unfortunately, Alex had made the mistake several years ago now of confiding in him that he had developed feelings for Greg. And while Tim had been generally supportive, as the years had stretched on, he’d become far more comfortable demonstrating his unwavering support with his usual, Key brand of general arseholery.
Such was their friendship in a nutshell.
And which was why Tim added with a somewhat knowing smirk, “You forget, I was there for Rachel.”
Alex blinked. “If by there for Rachel, you mean you slept on our floor, then yes, I’ll concede—”
“No, when you realised you had feelings for her, you twat,” Tim said, which Alex was fairly certain wasn’t even true, not that he cared to do the maths to verify. “And it took you ages to do anything about it because you were—”
“Nervous.”
“—shit at talking to women, exactly,” Tim said with a nod before leaning forward and asking pointedly, “ Did you ever even ask Rachel out on a proper date or did you two just decide, eh, fuck it, might as well, then?”
Alex considered it and shrugged. “One of each, is it?”
Tim just shook his head, sitting back in his chair in a particularly self-satisfied sort of way. “Yeah, well, I have a feeling Greg won’t be as quick to the uptake without you actually using your words at some point, mate.”
Alex pulled a face. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it, but– “Bit more complicated.”
“Only if you want it to be.” Tim took another pull of beer before shrugging and telling him, “Look, I’m just saying, if it were me, I’d just ring the ol’ gel up, invite myself round for a beer and there you have it.”
He said it with an air of finality that Alex absolutely could not let stand. He gave Tim a flat, unamused look. “You’ve never once in your life rung someone you fancied and invited yourself over to theirs.”
Tim shrugged unconcernedly. “Could’ve done.”
“You could not have,” Alex said firmly.
Something like a smirk twitched at the corners of Tim’s mouth. “So?”
“So it’s a bit galling—”
Tim interrupted, scrunching his face up. “Galling? Really?”
But Alex refused to let him derail his thought more than he already had. “Yes, galling,” he repeated stubbornly, “that you’d give me advice that you won’t even follow yourself. Especially considering we started this conversation by saying I shouldn’t give out advice I wasn’t willing to take.”
There was no mistaking Tim’s smirk now. “D’you know what your problem is?” he asked, taking a sip of beer.
“I’ve only one problem?” Alex asked.
Tim grinned. “Funny.” He leaned in. “Your problem is you don’t know when to let things go. Besides, if I only gave advice that I’d be willing to follow then I’d never be able to give advice, would I.”
Despite himself, Alex barked a laugh and shook his head, resisting the urge to scrub a hand across his face. “Some days, Timmy…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tim said with a triumphant sort of grin that hadn’t quite faded by the time they stumbled out of the pub an hour later.
Late enough that the only thing Alex should be thinking about doing was getting a car to take him home, but instead, he gave Tim a sideways look. “Do you really think I should ring Greg?”
Tim rolled his eyes, not looking up from his phone. “I think that I don’t want to have to listen to you moon over him for the next decade.”
Alex pulled a face. “Should’ve known your motives weren’t fully altruistic.”
“Look at you trotting out the big words,” Tim said. “Bodes well for how your conversation with Greg’ll go.” He shoved his phone in his pocket and straightened. “Just as long as you give me the credit when you get it all sorted.”
Alex’s brow furrowed. “What have I got to give you credit for?” he asked, incredulous.
Tim gave him an affronted look. “Erm, because I introduced you?” he said, as if it was obvious.
So much so that Alex almost believed him. “What, to Greg?”
“No, to the other giant you’re trying to fuck.”
“I’m not– and no you didn’t,” Alex said.
Tim rolled his eyes. “You met him in Edinburgh, did you not?” he said impatiently.
Which, while true, was not evidence that Tim’d had any involvement whatsoever in their meeting.“Yes, but—”
“And if it weren’t for me,” Tim continued in a louder voice as if Alex hadn’t spoken at all, “you’d’ve never gone to the Fringe.”
Alex sighed and rubbed his forehead. “If it weren’t for Footlights,” he corrected.
“That’s what I said,” Tim said, despite that not being even remotely what he’d said.
“Right,” Alex said with another sigh, “so by that logic, I should also pen a thank you note to Sidney Sussex College for the role Cambridge’s played as well.”
Tim grinned. “Can’t hurt. Our college could use some love.”
Alex snorted a laugh at the well-trod joke regarding Tim’s fictional time at Cambridge. “Goodnight, Tim,” he said pointedly.
Tim smirked as he started walking slowly backwards, completely oblivious to anyone or anything he might run into. “I’m just saying, a thank you wouldn’t go amiss, is all.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alex told him..
“You’d better.”
Whatever else Tim had planned on saying was lost to a string of curses as he inevitably backed straight into a bin, and Alex almost doubled over in laughter. By the time he’d gotten control of himself, Tim was gone, and Alex was alone with the question of whether to ring Greg or go home.
Age old dilemma, that.
In the end, he’d had just enough beer and taunting from Tim that, despite it being a terrible idea, he had dialled Greg before he even realised he was doing it.
And before he could even panic that this was a terrible idea, Greg had picked up. “What’s wrong?”
Despite himself, despite everything, Alex was helpless as always to stop his smile at the sound of Greg’s voice. “Something needs to be wrong for me to ring you?”
“At this hour on a Tuesday night?” Greg said, clearly sceptical.
“I wasn’t aware Tuesdays were more concerning of a night than any other night,” Alex said mildly, rewarded as expected by Greg sighing impatiently on the other end.
“Fucking hell,” he said, with just the hint of a giggle. “Clearly you’re what’s wrong, in every sense of the word.”
Alex’s smile widened. “Thank you, Greg.”
He heard what sounded like Greg chewing a crisp and tactfully chose not to mention it, even as Greg asked through a mostly full mouth, “Did you actually need something?”
“Need’s a strong word,” Alex hedged. “I was out having a drink with Tim—”
“Key?” Greg interrupted, and Alex frowned, because he wasn’t entirely sure what other Tim he’d be having a drink with, especially on, as Greg had already pointed out, a Tuesday night.
“Yes?”
Greg made a noise that might have been an amused sort of snort. “That explains it.”
Alex frowned. “Explains what?”
“Why you’ve called me out of the blue close to midnight on a Tuesday,” Greg said patiently. “Should’ve known there’d be alcohol and one of your mad friends involved.”
“Not entirely sure you have any leg to stand on when it comes to the relative sanity of your friends,” Alex muttered, more to himself than to Greg. “But in any case, Key– we were talking about– well, that’s not really the point, but, er, I thought perhaps I might—”
Luckily for all involved, Greg saved Alex from his stuttering. “Look, happy as I am to chat to you over the phone, it is almost midnight, so why don’t you just come round to mine? Make it easier on both of us.”
Even though Alex had just been half working his way through inviting himself over to Greg’s anyway, the invitation still took him by surprise, and without thinking, he blurted, “More on you than me.”
Greg was silent for just long enough for Alex to consider throwing his phone into the Thames. “I only meant—”
“Which makes sense,” Alex interrupted, desperate to turn it into some kind of joke that they could both laugh at, “seeing as how you’re so very, very old.”
Luckily, it worked, and Greg barked a laugh. “Prick.”
“Mm,” Alex hummed in equal parts disapproval and agreement.
“I’m serious, though,” Greg continued. “Just come round, then you can stammer your way through whatever you were going on about but while seated.”
It had been why Alex had rung him in the first place, but for some reason, hearing the invitation laid out plainly caused him to hesitate. “I really shouldn’t,” he said reluctantly.
Even though Alex couldn’t see him, he could’ve sworn he heard Greg’s shrug through the phone. “Your loss, mate.”
“Almost certainly,” Alex agreed, hesitating again before asking, “I’ll, er, I’ll ring you tomorrow? And stammer my way through it then?”
“I’ll have to check my diary but I think I can fit you in.”
He could definitely hear the smile in Greg’s voice, and he smiled back on instinct alone. “Goodnight, Greg.”
“Goodnight, silly boy,” Greg said teasingly before adding, mock-stern, “Drink lots of water.”
Alex rolled his eyes but his tone was a little too soft as he told Greg, “I will. I promise.”
“Night, love.”
Alex knew it meant nothing, knew that Greg was as generous with his terms of endearment as he was with his hugs, offering both to just about everyone he encountered. But his answering smile lasted the entire car ride out to Chesham, and when Alex finally fell asleep just before the clock ticked over to midnight, he was still smiling.
“—Tuesday, 27 August on Radio 2’s Breakfast Show. But first, in honour of their announced reunion tour, it gives me great pleasure to say, anyway, here’s ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.”
Alex groaned into his pillow and reached out to smack his alarm clock into silence. It was only when his hand was halfway there that he had a sudden feeling of déjà vu.
Had the radio just said that it was Tuesday?
Before he could decide if it was just his inevitable hangover playing tricks on him, Rachel let out a light groan from beside him. “You have to get a different alarm,” she said, her voice muffled by her pillow, and Alex’s sense of déjà vu increased, especially as she rolled over to poke him in the side. “What’s the point of getting a lie in on days when you do the school run if I just get woken up by Oasis of all sodding things?”
Then again, they’d had this or similar joking arguments on more mornings than Alex could possibly count, so it really was only a matter of time before they started to sound similar to each other.
Besides, this gave him the opportunity to test the waters. “Er, isn’t it your morning for the school run?” he asked hesitantly.
Rachel blinked up at him. “You want to do the school run tomorrow after you go out drinking with Tim tonight, be my guest,” she said, amused, and Alex’s stomach sank like a stone.
“I—”
“Did you forget about your plans with Tim?” she asked, sounding even more amused than before. “Don’t tell Tim that, he’ll be devastated.”
“Didn’t forget,” Alex told her, reaching for his phone. “Just, er, have my days mixed up.”
A glance at his phone confirmed that it was, in fact, still August 27.
Somehow.
Perhaps yesterday – today? the previous today? – had all just been an elaborate dream, though Alex’s dreams were rarely that vivid. But it was really the only plausible explanation that he had. After all, he couldn’t blame his hangover, since he doubted any quantity of alcohol would explain repeating the same day he had just lived.
And he didn’t really have a hangover, anyway, which was almost the more shocking thing, given the amount of beer he and Tim had put away the night before. Or, were going to put away that night, he supposed.
Alex was beginning to get a headache.
But in addition to lacking a plausible explanation, he also didn’t have a lot of options except to go about the day in a state of utter bewilderment as his entire day repeated itself. The same inane conversations with the other parents at the school, the same carton of eggs procured from the shop, the same emails from the Andys with production schedule updates for the next series of Taskmaster, even the same car that cut his Uber off on the way to the pub to meet up with Tim.
It was completely and utterly bizarre.
As a rule, Alex wasn’t much for fantasy, preferring the silliness or at least the absurdity of the mundane, something as true for his comedy as it was for his daily life. But he was drawing a blank for any kind of rational explanation as he sat across from Tim, listening to him tell the same stories and jokes he’d already heard.
Maybe the years of stress and exhaustion were finally catching up with him, just as Greg had been jokingly predicting for nearly a decade now.
“You all right?” Tim asked, and Alex blinked at him. “Usually when you’ve that vacant look on your face, you’re either thinking of Greg or a task.”
“Neither, thank you,” Alex said, but something on his face must’ve given him away, because Tim grinned in a particularly smug way.
“Greg it is, then. You going to finally ring the giant up and tell him you want to shag him senseless? Because my advice is—”
Alex didn’t have it in him to have this argument again. “Tim, the day I take your romantic advice for a second time is the day I throw in the towel on the whole mess,” he said firmly. “Besides, I’m not ringing anyone up besides Uber. I think it’s going to be an early night for me.”
Tim pulled a face. “Getting boring in your old age, Horne,” he said, and Alex gave him a look.
“Two years and eight days younger than you,” he reminded him.
Tim just nodded blithely. “Youth is wasted on the young,” he sighed, laughing when Alex rolled his eyes. “Go on, then, if you need your beauty sleep so badly.”
Alex scoffed good-naturedly, but took it as his cue to make an escape while he still could, before Tim launched into something else. After all, if this was all just a weird happenstance brought on by too little sleep, surely when he woke up the following morning, it would be Wednesday, and he could make his apologies then.
At least, that’s what he told himself when he collapsed into bed, stubbornly holding onto hope that this had all just been an odd day that was now firmly behind him.
It wasn’t.
“—Tuesday, 27 August on Radio 2’s Breakfast Show. But first, in honour of their announced reunion tour, it gives me great pleasure to say, anyway, here’s ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.”
Alex had never been much of an Oasis fan, but he was really beginning to hate them.
Thankfully, he had the sense not to argue with Rachel this time when she reminded him it was his day for the school run, and in fact managed the whole process in record time, seeing as he was beginning to memorise the little details of the day, such as where his youngest left his shoes or his eldest his maths book.
Which meant that upon returning, he had some extra time to sit at the kitchen table to try to brainstorm through possible solutions.
He’d’ve probably had better luck in his hot tub, but Rachel might start asking questions that he didn’t really have any answers for.
It was, in an odd way, a bit like a task, where he couldn’t stop the timer until it had been completed. Or, more accurately, couldn’t move on from the day until it’d been completed. Which meant there was something he had to be missing, something he was meant to do but hadn’t.
Of course, if it had been a task, he’d’ve stopped the clock and let Greg deal with the inevitable disqualification in the studio. It was funnier that way, usually, though Alex did find he had a new appreciation for the contestants who thought they’d nailed it only to have to turn around and defend themselves.
It was certainly less funny in his circumstance.
If his premise was correct – big if, massive if, really – then his next step was figuring out what precisely he hadn’t done. Which meant he spent his entire day over-analysing every interaction, looking for whatever it was that he might have missed from his previous two attempts at this day.
And evidently, it was more noticeable than he’d thought it would be.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?” Tim asked abruptly, and Alex blinked at him.
“Sorry?”
“Yeah, you should be, that’s my fifth joke you’ve not laughed at,” Tim said, with an edge of impatience that Alex knew from experience was more thinly-veiled concern. “I’ve got an ego to nurse here, Horne, and I’d like to think I deserve at least a pity chuckle.”
Alex winced. “Sorry, it’s– it’s not you. Just…a lot on my mind.”
Tim didn’t look convinced. “Well, if you’ve somewhere you’d rather be—”
“There isn’t,” Alex assured him, almost immediately undermining it by adding, “Well, I was actually thinking of ringing Greg—”
It was the only thing from his first day that he hadn’t yet attempted, after all, not that he could explain that to Tim, who looked a bit put out. “Should’ve known,” he grumbled, and Alex sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“It’s not– there’s just something he and I need to discuss.”
“Like how you want him to fuck your brains out?” Tim asked mildly, taking a sip of beer as he looked expectantly at him as if waiting for Alex to splutter and go red.
Which he did. He was nothing if not predictable. “Tim!”
“Sorry,” Tim said, though he didn’t remotely sound it. In fact, he sounded quite pleased with himself. “Well, far be it from me to stand in your way of getting some from the big man. Learned my lesson on cockblocking back in 1999. And 2001. And 2005. And 2006. And—”
Alex heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Oddly enough, sitting here while you recite every instance you’ve interrupted my love life would be an effective cockblock,” he said dryly, and Tim practically cackled in response. “It’s a miracle I even have children at this point. You’re just lucky that Rachel’s been as forgiving as I am over the years.”
Tim hadn’t quite finished laughing as he told Alex, “Lucky that she and I both get joy from your foibles, at least.”
Alex let out a small hum of dissent. “Shame Greg’s not as forgiving.”
That sobered Tim up. “Point taken,” he said before tipping his beer towards the door. “Go on, get laid, but you’d best ring me tomorrow and tell me about it. I deserve some closure with as much as I’ve invested in this relationship over the years.”
Alex stood but didn’t head towards the door just yet, instead frowning at Tim as he asked him, “What have you possibly invested in this?”
“My time and energy listening to you whinge, mostly,” Tim shot back, and Alex rolled his eyes. “And you can thank me for it at any time.”
“Then I’ll be sure to let you know if your investment’s played off,” Alex said before finally leaving, digging his phone out of his pocket as he did.
“What’s wrong?” Greg asked as he answered the phone, and for the first time in two days – or at least, two iterations of the same day – Alex felt like everything might actually turn out all right.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “Just, er, can I come round? I know it’s late—”
“Mate, time is completely meaningless,” Greg interrupted, and Alex had to bite back a slightly hysterical laugh, because if only Greg had any idea how true that statement was… “I’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you,” Alex told him, sincerely.
Mainly because if this didn’t work, he was just about out of ideas for what else to try.
“You realise none of this is helping your case, yeah?” Greg asked as he handed Alex a beer before sitting down next to him on the sofa.
Alex glanced up at him, his brow furrowed. “My case?”
“For nothing being wrong,” Greg said.
Alex sighed and took a pull from his beer before telling him, “Wrong’s not really the right word.”
Greg nodded slowly. “By its very definition, I’d say.”
It took Alex a moment to process what he’d said, and he pulled a face as soon as he did, even though he couldn’t quite stop his own smile. “That’s normally a joke I’d make.”
Greg just shrugged blithely. “Yeah, but you didn’t seem up for it, so I figured I’d do it on your behalf.”
“Thank you.”
“Any time,” Greg said easily. “Now, jokes aside, what’s going on?” He gave Alex a look. “And don’t tell me nothing, you wouldn’t’ve dragged yourself to this part of London at this hour on a Tuesday unless something was going on, wrongly or rightly.”
Alex winced, knowing that Greg had a point, but still not quite having worked out how he planned to go about this. “It’s, er, that is, I, erm– I didn’t think it would be this hard.”
“That’s what she said,” Greg murmured as he took a sip of beer and Alex let out a noise that was half-sigh, half-giggle.
“Really?” he asked, trying to sound disapproving and missing by a mile.
Greg was giggling but tried to school his expression into something neutral as he asked innocently, “What?”
Almost as soon as the word was out of his mouth, he’d clapped a hand over his mouth, his entire faced scrunched up in delight as his shoulders shook with laugher, and Alex shook his head, equal parts cross and amused. “I’m over here, trying to– and then you go and make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke,” he huffed.
“You set it up perfectly!” Greg protested, lifting his glasses to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes. “What was I supposed to do, wait for you to finish stumbling your way through whatever—”
“Yes,” Alex said loudly, talking over him, “you were supposed to wait for the thirty seconds it’d’ve taken me to tell you that I love you, but I should have suspected that’d be too much to– what?”
He broke off when he saw Greg staring at him, his laughter suddenly, abruptly cut off. “You love me?” Greg said quietly, and Alex’s heart plummeted to somewhere around his knees.
“Oh,” he said, his voice coming out a bit like a squeak. “Er. Yes?” He winced. “Shit, sorry, I really, er, I had planned on telling you differently—”
Greg just shook his head. “No, it was perfect.”
Alex glanced at him. “Really?”
Greg shrugged. “Well, I suspect I’d’ve found any way you said it perfect,” he said. “I’ve been told I’m quite biased when it comes to you.”
Alex wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. “Right.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Greg’s mouth. “Tends to come with loving someone. Or so I’ve been told.”
Alex stared at him. “You mean, you—”
He broke off as his brain finally seemed to catch up, even if he didn’t quite dare to believe it. Evidently, Greg took pity on him, since he told him, patiently, “Yes, you idiot.” And then Alex couldn’t stop what he was certain had to be a wild, goofy grin, at least judging by the one Greg gave him in return. But then Greg’s smile faltered, just slightly, as he added, with something like hesitation, “I just– you have Rachel, and your kids…”
“She knows,” Alex blurted, grabbing Greg’s hand to reassure him before he could get the wrong idea for even a moment. “Rachel, I mean. She knows how I feel about you.” He felt himself blush as he ducked his head and added, “That I love you.”
Greg was grinning again, even as he asked, “But does she know that you’re here right now?”
For one brief moment, Alex was tempted to lie, but he knew Greg would never forgive him if he did. Instead, he offered, “I could text her?”
“Mate.”
“Yeah, all right,” Alex allowed sheepishly. He sighed before adding, a little wistfully, “Just doesn’t seem fair to be so close and yet…”
Greg squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice low. “And tomorrow, after you talk to your wife, we can figure the rest of it out.”
But that thought made Alex’s stomach clench. “Tomorrow…” he muttered, more to himself than Greg, wondering if he might actually get to see tomorrow now.
Greg frowned at him, his brow furrowing the way it did when he was worried. “What?”
Alex shook his head. “Nothing,” he lied, before softening it with a truth. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Greg told him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
Alex started to nod before thinking better of it, knowing all too well it was a promise he couldn’t necessarily keep. “I’ll call you later,” he said, which was certainly no matter which way he cut it.
For a moment, it looked like Greg might press the issue, but then he told Alex, “Or just come by. You’re welcome any time.”
“I very well may take you up on that,” Alex said, and Greg grinned again.
“Good, I hope you do.” He hesitated for a moment before leaning in and kissing his forehead. “Now get the fuck out of here before I decide not to be a gentleman.”
Alex’s laugh hitched in his throat at the thought. “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, releasing his hand and standing despite every instinct that was screaming for him to stay.
As if sensing his hesitation, Greg cleared his throat before telling him pointedly, “Goodnight, Alex.”
“Goodnight, Greg,” Alex said, finally heading to the door and letting himself out, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment, unable to stop his stupid smile once more.
For the first time since this began, he almost didn’t care whether he woke up on the 27th or 28th. Because should worse come to worst, Greg loved him.
And the thought of getting to hear Greg tell him that again made it almost entirely worth it.
For the first time, Alex was mildly grateful for the familiar sound from the radio: “—Tuesday, 27 August on Radio 2’s Breakfast Show. But first, in honour of their announced reunion tour, it gives me great pleasure to say, anyway, here’s ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.”
Mainly because this time, he had a chance to get everything right.
So as soon as he had made it through Rachel’s light teasing about Oasis, he changed subjects, sitting on the edge of the bed as he asked her in what he hoped was a casual way, “When I get back from the school run, can we talk?”
Judging by the look she gave him, he hadn’t succeeded. “Talking now, aren’t we?” she asked lightly.
“I think this might be a longer conversation than we’ve time for,” Alex hedged.
“Try me,” Rachel said, and when Alex hesitated, she added, “I mean it, it’s not like I’m going to get to sleep now with that hanging over me.”
Alex winced. “Sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be, just tell me what’s going on.”
He took a deep breath before letting it out slowly and telling her, “It’s about Greg.”
Realisation and something that might have been relief flickered across her expression. “Ah.”
He nodded. “Yes,” he said, tracing a finger against the duvet. “I know we sort of, er, tabled this conversation—”
“Until you were planning to do something about it, yeah,” Rachel said evenly. “I’ll take that to mean you are?”
Alex hesitated. “Assuming your position hasn’t changed, at least.”
Rachel’s expression softened. “My position hasn’t changed,” she told him. “I love you, I trust you, and I want you to be happy. And for reasons that defy any explanations, that big man does make you happy, doesn’t he.”
She didn’t pitch it as a question and Alex blushed, just slightly. “Not as happy as you make me,” he told her loyally, and she just laughed.
“You’re sweet,” she told him, reaching out to pat his arm. “But it’s a different kind of happy.”
Which was certainly true. Happiness with Rachel was a happiness 25 years in the making, the kind of well-worn happiness that felt like slipping into bed at the end of a long day. Happiness with Greg was a different beast entirely, precarious and exciting but with enough shared joy at its heart that Alex knew, given hopefully less than 25 years, it’d be its own sort of easy bliss.
“Hopefully not for long,” he told her.
She smiled at him. “I’d say good luck, but I don’t think you’ll need it,” she said before yawning and leaning back against the pillows. “See, not too long a conversation after all.”
He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t,” he agreed.
He stood, pausing as she added, “Oh, and Alex, don’t forget—”
“Eggs, I know,” he said, since on the fourth iteration of the day, he’d be an idiot not to remember. He bent to kiss the top of her head. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she told him, and Alex left to get the boys ready for school feeling like the luckiest man in the world.
So much so that he decided to press his luck. After all, Greg had told him he was welcome any time, even if the man didn’t know it. So Alex cut his work day short and headed into the city early and managed to make it all the way to the intercom for Greg’s building before he realised how shit this idea was. He had absolutely what Greg had on today – hell, the man might not even be home, and here was Alex, turning up unannounced and technically uninvited.
It was unfathomably rude of him.
It also very well might not make a difference if he just had to do the whole sodding day all over again anyway.
So he took a deep breath and pressed the button on the intercom.
After one heart-stopping moment, Greg’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Yeah?”
“It’s Alex,” he said, practically sagging in relief.
Greg was silent for a moment before buzzing him in, and Alex took the stairs up to his two at a time, reaching Greg’s door right as he opened it, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” he asked, even as he reached out to pull Alex into his customary hug.
“Hm?” Alex said distractedly, glancing over Greg’s shoulder to make sure he wasn’t interrupting anything. He didn’t see anything besides Greg’s laptop balanced on the arm of the sofa and half-drunk cup of tea on the coffee table. “Nothing.”
Greg pulled away to frown down at him. “Yet you’re standing at my door, unannounced, in the middle of a Tuesday.”
“Your fascination with the days of the week…” Alex murmured, bouncing on the balls of his feet, almost certainly deserving the look Greg gave him, like he’d finally gone mad.
He probably had.
“You all right?” Greg asked, and Alex nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “May I come in?”
Greg blinked but took a step back to let Alex in. “Of course, yeah,” he said, closing the door. “You know you’re—”
“Welcome at any time, yeah,” Alex finished for him, giving him a tight smile. “Sorry, I probably should have rung first, or—”
“It’s fine, really,” Greg assured him, plopping down on the sofa and looking at Alex as if he expected him to join him. “I was about thirty seconds from tossing my laptop out the window anyway—”
“But I talked to Rachel,” Alex interrupted, still standing a few feet inside Greg’s door.
Greg stared at him. “Okay…” he said slowly, and Alex realised a moment too late that he hadn’t prefaced that with any kind of explanation, especially since Greg didn’t remember their previous conversation.
He winced. “Sorry, I should back up, I suppose—”
“I think you should first sit down and stop hyperventilating,” Greg said firmly, patting the sofa next to him, and this time, Alex sat. “Also stop apologising, especially since I’ve no clue what you’re apologising for, yeah?”
“Right. Sor—”
“Mate.”
Alex managed a light laugh, though it was short-lived. “Right. Erm.”
He couldn’t figure out how to start the conversation this time around, and Greg let him sweat for a moment before prompting, “You spoke to Rachel.”
“Yes,” Alex said.
Greg arched an eyebrow. “What about?”
“You.”
Something he couldn’t quite read flickered across Greg’s expression. “Ah.”
Alex nodded, even though Greg hadn’t asked anything. “And how I, erm, feel about you.”
“Yeah?” Greg said, and Alex nodded again.
“Yeah.”
Once again Greg let him squirm for a moment in the silence before he asked, “And how do you feel about me?”
Alex wished that saying it before made it easier, or even knowing that Greg reciprocated would make it easier to say the words, but his palms still sweat and his fingers still trembled as if he was saying it for the first time. Which, to be fair, to Greg at least, he was. “I love you.”
Greg blinked. “Oh, shit,” he blurted, before clapping a hand over his mouth, looking horrified. “I mean, er—”
“Not really the reaction I was hoping for,” Alex said, wondering if it was possible to just keel over and die on the spot. He’d probably wake up to fucking Wonderwall again anyway.
To his credit, Greg did look genuinely mortified. “Sorry,” he said, lowering his hand. “Sorry, I– I wasn’t expecting you to just, er, just sort of come out and say it like that.” He winced. “Fuck, can we, er, can we try it again?”
Alex thought about having to do this again the next iteration of this day and blanched. “Oh my God, I hope not.”
“What?” Greg asked.
Alex shook his head and didn’t even bother explaining. “Yeah, all right,” he said bracingly, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s take it from the top.”
Greg nodded. “Right. Er.” He shifted positions to try to mimic his more laid-back pose from before. “And how do you feel about me?”
Alex’s hands didn’t shake this time when he told Greg, as equally sincere as before, “I love you.”
Greg’s eyes widened comically. “Fucking hell, mate,” he said, which somehow managed to be a worse reaction than before.
Alex stared at him, stunned. “You—”
Greg immediately dissolved into giggles, almost assuredly at making Alex go through that a second time. “Couldn’t help myself, sorry.”
Alex heaved a sigh and scrubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”
When he lowered his hand, Greg was grinning at him. “For what it’s worth, I love you, too.”
“Oh,” Alex intoned, purposefully monotone. “Shit.”
Greg barked a laugh. “Prick.”
Alex grinned. “You started it!”
Greg shook his head. “Yeah, and I should know better than to underestimate your commitment to the bit,” he sighed. He glanced at Alex. “So I assume since you said you talked to Rachel, she’s, er, good with this?”
Alex nodded. “Yes,” he said, hesitating before adding, “But I don’t really want to talk about my wife right now.”
Greg cocked his head. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
The truth was that Alex had done enough talking over the past few versions of of this day. And right now, as he was sitting next to Greg having just told him that he loved him, with his wife’s full permission to do whatever he wanted, he really didn’t want to do any more talking.
So instead, Alex leaned in and kissed him.
At least, that’s what he intended to do, but he underestimated both the gap between them and his own enthusiasm and so instead found himself half sprawled on top of Greg in a way that would almost certainly be mortifying once his head caught up with what he’d just done.
Luckily for him, what he’d intended to be a quick kiss, just a brief brushing of lips to punctuate what he’d spent the better part of the past few iterations of this day stuttering his way through saying, was instead matched in an instant by Greg, whose mouth opened against his with a sigh. For one long moment, the silence was broken only by the wet sounds of two middle-aged men snogging like teenagers, and the thought was enough to make Alex laugh, just lightly, even if the sound was quickly captured by Greg’s mouth.
But even though there was something utterly ridiculous about what they were doing, Alex couldn’t quite find it in himself to focus on that, especially as Greg rolled his hips teasingly against his and traced kisses along his throat while his hands trailed down Alex’s sides to grasp his—
Alex let out a little involuntary squeak and Greg immediately stopped, pulling back far enough to look at him properly. “Too much?” he asked, and Alex shook his head.
“The opposite, I think,” he said, aware he was blushing solidly crimson.
Greg grinned and squeezed his bum again, the gesture sending a thousand sparks throughout Alex’s entire body. “Fucking hell,” he sighed, leaning in to rest his forehead against Alex’s. “When you turned up unannounced, I’ll admit this isn’t what I expected to happen.”
“What did you expect?” Alex asked, squirming slightly to find a more comfortable position, and if that squirming happened to put him more squarely on top of Greg, well, all the better.
Judging by the way Greg half-swallowed a moan, he didn’t disagree, and he kissed Alex once more before telling him, in an attempt at casual that stretched even his acting chops, “Oh, you know, a couple beers, a meal, a few laughs…”
He trailed off and Alex grinned before starting to sit up. “Mm, well, I can stop, if you’d rather—”
Greg scowled and pulled him back down. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled in Alex’s ear.
Even though Alex knew Greg was just joking, he still couldn’t help but promise, a little too breathless and soft to be anything other than sincere, “I won’t. I promise.”
As if he didn’t quite believe him, Greg snaked a hand between them to palm his cock through his jeans, grinning when Alex shamelessly rocked against his hand. “That’ll teach you not to tease me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss at the juncture of his jaw and neck, and Alex shuddered helplessly at the sensation. “So now it’s your turn. Do you want me to stop?”
He punctuated the question with another hard press of his hand, which wasn’t entirely fair of him. But they had ten years between them, ten years of reading each other and playing off of each other and there was not a single person in this world besides possibly Rachel that Alex trusted more. And he knew if he showed even the slightest hesitation, Greg would stop before the word even formed in Alex’s mind. So he shook his head. “No.”
Greg didn’t let up on the pressure and Alex choked on a groan. “No what?” Greg prompted, and Alex could feel his lips curve into a smile against his neck.
“No, I don’t want you to stop,” Alex managed. Barely.
But despite Alex’s words, Greg pulled his hand away and Alex would be embarrassed by the whimper he let out if he’d had any blood left in his brain for embarrassment. “Mm,” Greg hummed appreciatively, looking at Alex like he wanted to eat him.
And Alex was tempted to let him. “Please, Greg,” he choked out, breathless with almost a decade’s worth of need, desperate with how each previous version of this day had finally led to this.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Greg murmured, and his hand returned to its previous position, Alex’s cock twitching in anticipation. Greg’s hand pressed firmly against the outline of his cock, stroking him through the fabric, and it was at once too much and not nearly enough.
Alex’s hips canted forward and he groaned another breathless, “Greg—” but Greg didn’t so much as speed up his careful, sure movements,
Instead, he raised his other hand to trace his thumb across Alex’s lips, the brush of his finger tingling like electricity. “Ah, ah,” he chided softly. “If you want me to continue, you need to be quiet.”
It was an idle threat and both Alex and Greg knew it, but two could play at that game. Alex lifted his eyes to meet Greg’s before leaning in and closing his lips around Greg’s thumb. Greg barely managed to cut off his own groan as Alex’s tongue curled around his thumb, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked hungrily at the digit.
“Good boy,” Greg whispered, his voice low and just this side of breathless as well, and Alex couldn’t quite stop his answering whine, though the noise was thankfully muted by Greg’s thumb in his mouth. “That’s it. Good boy.”
Without warning, Greg pulled his thumb from Alex’s mouth and instead shifted to wrap his massive hand lightly around his throat, his thumb now stroking the taut skin at the base of Alex’s throat. His other hand continued its steady, rhythmic movement against Alex’s cock as he pressed down, just slightly, against Alex’s throat, just hard enough that Alex knew he could feel his heartbeat pounding. “You’d do just about anything I told you to, wouldn’t you,” he murmured with something like curiosity, more a statement than a question, and Alex nodded, just once.
“Fucking hell,” Greg breathed, and he surged forward to kiss him again, a slow, almost gentle kiss only in contrast to the frantic movement of Alex’s hips to meet Greg’s hand.
He pulled back just far enough to press a single, light kiss to the side of Alex’s neck before asking, in a ragged whisper, “What if I told you to come like this?”
Alex whimpered but he still managed a nod. It really wouldn’t take much at this point, and even though he hadn’t come in his pants since a particularly disastrous date in university, there was very little he wouldn’t do if Greg told him to.
“You would, wouldn’t you,” Greg said, as if once again marvelling at Alex’s commitment to anything Greg asked of him, and Alex’s hips stuttered as Greg swiped his thumb across the head of his cock. “You’d come in your fucking pants like a teenager, even though you don’t even have anything to change into. Just because I told you to.”
Alex swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving against Greg’s other thumb. “Please,” he repeated.
Greg’s eyes darkened and he moved his hand from Alex’s throat to instead cup his cheek, tracing his fingers along Alex’s beard and caressing his flushed skin as he leaned in to again kiss Alex, the kiss open-mouthed and needy as his hand sped up its movements. “Go on, then,” he murmured.
In the end, that was all it took, and Alex shuddered as he came, his shout captured by Greg’s mouth. He kissed him through the last of his tremors as his orgasm faded, the kiss turning slower and sweeter as Alex’s breathing finally evened out and he tried very hard not to just collapse against Greg.
Instead, he rested his forehead against Greg’s shoulder for a moment before he finally managed a particularly eloquent, “Fuck.”
Greg chuckled, stroking Alex’s back lightly. “Definitely was not expecting that today,” he said, kissing Alex’s forehead. “You all right?”
Alex nodded. “More than,” he assured him, his voice oddly scratchy considering he had barely made any noise. “And, erm…”
His hand twitched towards Greg’s zip, and he pressed almost experimentally against the rather conspicuous bulge tenting Greg’s jeans.
But Greg’s hand closed around his wrist, though he didn’t move his hand away. “That’s all right, mate,” he said, and Alex blinked at him.
“Oh,” he said stupidly. “Can’t I– I mean, I want to, er, return the favour.”
Greg smirked at him. “And you will,” he said, leaning in to kiss him once more before adding with a groan, “But not here because my back’s fucking killing me from you lying on top of me, and also, I don’t see the need to ruin a perfectly good pair of pants.” He patted Alex on the bum. “Come on, budge up, I paid good money for my mattress and I intend to make the most of it.”
Alex laughed lightly before sliding somewhat bonelessly off of him, still not fully recovered. He wrinkled his nose at the feeling of the mess he’d made in his pants, but before he could even ask Greg for a flannel, his phone rang loudly.
He grabbed it, fully intent on just silencing it before he saw who it was, and he shot Greg an apologetic look. “Sorry, I, er, I need to—”
“Really?” Greg said, amused.
Alex nodded. “It’s Key, I forgot, he and I were meant to—”
Greg waved a dismissive hand. “Fine,” he said. “But if you don’t hurry up, I’m getting started without you.”
It was almost tempting enough for Alex to just hang up on Tim, but he took a deep breath before answering the phone. “Hi, sorry,” he said.
“You all right?” Tim asked. “You sound out of breath.”
Alex cleared his throat. “I’m, erm, I’m at Greg’s,” he said, certain he was blushing like an idiot.
Tim let out a low whistle. “Fucking hell,” he said. “About time, mate.”
“Shh,” Alex chided, even though he wasn’t sure why he was shushing him.
Especially since its only effect seemed to be making Tim laugh loudly. “Hang on, did you stop mid-go just to take my phone call?”
“No,” Alex said. “I’d already– anyway, erm, I need to cancel for tonight.”
“Say no more,” Tim said, a reminder of how good a friend he really was when he wanted to be. Of course, he ruined the moment by adding, “Seriously, don’t, I don’t know how much of this I can stomach.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Hilarious,” he said. “I’ll, er, ring you later?”
“Yeah, and I’ll expect a thank you for my generosity in not holding you to our plans,” Tim said, his smirk clear in his tone.
“Whatever would I do without you, Timmy,” Alex said dryly, and was rewarded with another laugh from Tim.
“Fuck off,” Tim said cheerfully. “And then, you know, go fuck—”
Alex hung up on him, tossing his phone down on the sofa without another glance before following Greg to the bedroom and the bed he’d, with any luck, wake up in the following morning.
He knew even before the alarm went off that he hadn’t.
“—Tuesday, 27 August on Radio 2’s Breakfast Show. But first, in honour of their announced reunion tour, it gives me great pleasure to say, anyway, here’s ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.”
“Shut up,” Alex huffed to himself, reaching out to shut the alarm off.
Rachel let out a sleepy little laugh. “You know, if you got a different alarm, you wouldn’t have this problem,” she said, rolling over to look at him, her laugh fading when she saw the look on his face. “Are you all right?”
Alex sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Fine, yeah.”
“You don’t seem it,” she said evenly, and Alex sighed again before reaching out to draw her close, bending down to kiss the top of her head.
“I know, I just– I had an absolutely lovely dream, is all.”
Because that’s all it was, obviously, since it hadn’t been the answer to why he was living this day over for a fifth time.
Then again, as he lay there for longer than he had any right to, Rachel falling back to sleep against him, he also couldn’t quite stop the smile that spread across his face at the memory of the previous night. It hadn’t been the answer to this particular dilemma, but it was certainly an answer, and one Alex would happily take if the opportunity presented itself again.
Even if he was trapped in this repeating day hell, it was still one of the best things that had ever happened to him.
That said, it meant he was no closer to finding the answer to getting out of this, and as the day traipsed on in the same way it already had several times over, Alex felt his good mood from the previous evening slipping away.
Yes, he had a preemptive conversation with Rachel just in case there was a repeat of the previous night’s activities, but even that wasn’t enough to keep him in a good mood as he again met Tim at the pub.
And evidently, it was fairly noticeable.
“Right, what’s wrong?” Tim asked before either of them had even started on their beers, and Alex frowned at him. But before he could even start to say the word ‘nothing’, Tim leaned in to tell him, “Don’t even try to tell me nothing.”
Alex pulled a face and sighed. “It’s been a rough couple of days,” he said, which in addition to being true, had the benefit of being vague enough that, with any luck, Tim probably wouldn’t ask any follow up questions.
Luck, unfortunately, was not on his side. “Rough how?” Tim asked, taking a swig of beer.
For a moment, Alex tried to come up with some sort of plausible excuse, but did it really matter? Surely he could tell Tim anything he wanted, and it wouldn’t matter, because it would all just reset the next day.
And since he’d spent the last few days feeling like he was going out of his mind without anyone to share it with, he might as well tell him the truth.
“Do you know Groundhog Day?” he said, and Tim blinked at him.
“Yeah, the movie,” he said, and Alex nodded.
“Right, the movie and the musical.”
Tim took another sip of beer. “Yeah, I know—” He broke off, choking on his beer. “Sorry, musical?”
“It’s a musical, isn’t it?” Alex said.
Tim stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, which, fair play, really. “It’s a movie,” he said.
Alex huffed a sigh. “Yes,I know it’s a movie,” he said impatiently, “but it’s also—”
“Bill Murray,” Tim interrupted in what he clearly thought was a helpful way. “Andie MacDowell.”
“I’ve seen the film, thank you,” Alex said dryly.
“I know you have!” Tim said. “We’ve watched it! Together, even! Edinburgh 2003, wasn’t it?”
Alex could barely remember half of his Edinburgh shows, let alone the films he’d watched during his downtime, but wasn’t inclined to argue the point. “Right.”
Tim squinted at him. “So what are you on about, musical?”
“It’s a musical!” Alex said, obstinate for ostinance’s sake mostly. He and Tim knew each other well enough to know neither was going to surrender the point, which was half the fun, usually.
Tim pulled a face. “What, Bill Murray comes out and does a little dance, then, does he?”
Alex rubbed his forehead. “Well, he does play piano in it, but that’s not—”
“You can’t say that every movie where someone plays piano is a musical,” Tim said dismissively, and Alex groaned into his hands. “Hands off your face.”
Alex lowered his hands to stare balefully at him. “I’m not saying that every movie where someone plays piano is a musical,” he started, but true to form, Tim ignored him.
“Casablanca,” he said, ticking them off on his fingers, “the Talented Mr. Ripley, the Pianist, Little Women, La La Land—”
“That one was a musical, you realise,” Alex said.
Tim considered it for a moment. “Oh, yeah.”
Alex used this as his opportunity to try, once again, to get his point across. “I’m not saying that the film Groundhog Day was a musical. I’m saying that there was also a musical version of it.”
“A what?” Tim asked.
“It was on the West End,” Alex said, exasperated. “Tim Minchin did the songs for it.”
Tim screwed his entire face up as he thought about it. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that,” he said finally, and Alex heaved a sigh.
“Clearly not.”
Tim ran a hand through his hair and nodded slowly before looking at Alex and asking, “Sorry, why were we talking about Groundhog Day?”
And honestly, if Alex had wanted to sum up the futility of the last few days in one conversation, surely he’d never achieve better than this.
So he took a hefty swig of beer before telling Tim, “Doesn’t even matter.”
The conversation turned from there, and eventually Alex made his usual excuse about ringing Greg, which Tim took with his usual good humour as they walked out of the pub together. ““I’m just saying, a thank you wouldn’t go amiss, is all,” he reminded Alex as they parted after their usual banter about Tim’s relative role – or lack thereof – in Alex and Greg’s burgeoning relationship.
Alex just shook his head, holding his phone up to his ear, having already dialled Greg’s number. “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he called at Tim’s retreating back, grinning when Tim just flipped the V at him.
“Pardon?” Greg said, amused, and Alex blinked, having not even noticed that Greg had picked up.
“Sorry, that was for Tim,” he told him.
Greg chuckled knowingly. “Ah. What did Tim do now?”
Alex sighed, but with a certain amount of fondness. “He seems to expect credit for something he had no direct hand in.”
Greg snorted a laugh. “Typical Key.”
“Mm,” Alex agreed, though he had to admit, however grudgingly, that he did owe Tim quite a bit from over the years. Something he was certain he’d told Tim many times over during the course of their friendship.
He had to have.
Right?
“Anyway, what’s wrong?” Greg was asking, but Alex’s mind was elsewhere, mainly trying to think of the last time he’d thanked Tim and meant it.
He was drawing a blank. And while he may not owe Tim anything for this with Greg in particular, surely in terms of last-ditch efforts to break this same day nonsense, it couldn’t hurt to try.
“Can I call you back?” he said abruptly, already turning to search for Tim.
“You sure you’re all right, mate?” Greg asked, and Alex managed a tired smile.
“More than I have been in days,” he assured him. “I’ll ring you back in a few minutes.”
He didn’t wait for Greg to respond, hanging up on him and half-jogging in the direction Tim had headed. Luckily, Tim tended to take his time after a few drinks, and he spotted Tim just ahead of him, putting his earbuds in as he meandered towards the closest tube stop. And even though they were them, and they didn’t do this, never had, Alex didn’t hesitate, sprinting full speed toward him until he was close enough to grab him and pull him into a hug.
“What the fuck—” Tim yelped in a high-pitched voice that Alex was certainly not going to have a fun time mocking at a later point in time, though he broke off when he saw it was Alex.
Likely in confusion. Quite possibly in concern.
“Er,” Tim said, and Alex just tightened his grip on him. “Can I help you?”
“You already have,” Alex told him, and Tim stood in baffled silence for a long moment before cautiously reaching out to pat Alex on the back.
“Are you having a stroke?” he asked. “Or, fuck, you’re not getting a divorce, are you?”
Despite himself, Alex huffed a dry laugh. “Are those really the only two possibilities?”
Tim just shrugged, or tried to as best he could with Alex’s arms still wrapped around him. “I’d like to remind you that the last time we hugged, I had cancer.”
“Yes, I recall,” Alex said. “And obviously the answer to that is to hug more often, not less.”
He couldn’t see his face, but he could only imagine the face Tim pulled before saying, “Starting now, I’d guess.”
“Yes,” Alex said. “Starting now. As a thank you.”
“For what?”
“You don’t think I owe you a thank you?” Alex countered.
As expected, he could practically hear the scowl in Tim’s voice as he said, “Didn’t say that, did I. More was curious which of the many things I’ve done for you that you were thanking me for.”
Alex laughed lightly. “All of them,” he said honestly.
“Right,” Tim said, patting his back gingerly once more. “Well, you’re welcome.”
“Good.”
Tim cleared his throat. “And you can, er, let go of me. When you’re ready.”
Alex squeezed him for a moment more before finally letting go of him. “I love you, Timmy,” he said, and it wasn’t the love confession he’d been expecting to make that night, but it anything, that just made it all the sweeter.
Tim was blushing, and couldn’t seem to meet his eyes as he muttered, “Yes, I, er, love you, too. Horne.”
Alex laughed, more at the absurdity of the situation than anything else. “One day we’ll be able to do that without it being physically uncomfortable for either of us.”
“I will believe that when I see it,” Tim said, finally looking up at Alex to ask, “You sure you’re all right?”
Alex nodded. “I’m better than I’ve been in at least a few days.”
Tim didn't look like he believed him, but he didn’t press the matter. “Right,” he said instead. “Ring me tomorrow? I’m not convinced you haven’t lost it.”
“Neither am I,” Alex admitted. “But yes, I will call you tomorrow. I promise.”
His voice broke just a little at the end, and Tim looked even more embarrassed than before. “Fucking Christ, Horne, pull yourself together,” he muttered, and Alex laughed again, reaching up to hastily wipe a tear from his cheek.
“I’ll do my best.”
Tim shook his head and gave him one last searching look before once again heading in the direction of the tube stop. Alex watched him go, well aware that he was almost certainly going to be the subject of a poem posted on instagram shortly about a friend who’d lost his marbles.
It was still worth it.
Once Tim was out of sight, Alex dug his phone out of his pocket and rang Greg back. “Hi,” he said when he picked up. “Sorry about that.”
“Do I even want to know?” Greg asked, amused, and Alex just laughed and shook his head.
“Probably not,” he said. “Remind me and I’ll tell you the whole story sometime. But, er, in the meantime, is it too late for me to come around?”
“No, you can come round,” Greg said. “Lord knows I won’t be getting to sleep anytime soon.”
Alex shook his head. “Right,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
He still had one more love confession to make, after all, and if he was right, and he had a feeling that he was, it’d be the last time he’d have to do that, hopefully ever..
“—we’re still not over yesterday’s news, so for now, on this lovely Wednesday morning, here’s Oasis with ‘Champagne Supernova’—”
Alex grinned into the pillow. He’d never been happier to hear an Oasis song, especially one that wasn’t Wonderwall, in his entire life.
Greg, on the other hand, groaned, reaching out automatically to try to hit the alarm clock and mostly just smacking Alex instead. “I didn’t even think that fucking thing still worked,” he grumbled, more into his pillow than anything.
“It does,” Alex told him, unnecessarily.
Greg made a noise that might’ve been a muffled swear. “Shut it off, would you,” he said grumpily, even as Alex was already stretching across him to turn it off. “Why the fuck did you set an alarm anyway?”
Alex snuggled back against Greg’s side, his grin widening when Greg wrapped an arm around him to pull him even closer. “No reason,” he said, resting his head on Greg’s chest. “Just wanted to make sure it was real.”
“You don’t need a fucking alarm for that, mate,” Greg said, undermining his irritation by kissing the top of his head.
And Alex was happy to concede that he was, at long last, right about that.