Rentboy

he bought a dozen roses. Red was too ordinary for Fox, so he got a rainbow
    of colors—yellow, peach, pink, white, and a couple of red. The rain started just as he reached the end
    of their street, and as always when he went home these days, he thought of the years he had lived on
    Great Russell Street, walking into an empty flat, eating Pot Noodles before climbing into an unmade
    bed to sleep alone.
    The house they had bought was a narrow three-story terrace on an upmarket street in Shepherds
    Bush. They could have bought something more ostentatious between Fox’s inheritance and Edward’s
    salary, but Tara’s rehab and the school for the twins were expensive. Also they had talked about
    moving to the country in ten years or so, and they were already saving for it.
    Walking up to the house always brought him a sense of warmth and a rush of happiness. In
    another year he hoped to be able to run, but for now just opening the front gate and hobbling up the
    narrow path was enough, especially knowing Fox was there to greet him. Fox had taken a year off
    college to settle the twins into their new school and to be free to visit Tara, so every evening when
    Edward returned, his man was there waiting for him
    “Oh my God!” he said out loud.
    In the front window was a huge hand-painted sign with a big rainbow on it and the words FOX
    LOVES EDDIE.
    Before he could pull out his key the front door opened, and Fox came down the steps. The rain
    began in earnest, but Edward didn’t move. He just stood looking up at the sign while Fox hugged him.
    “Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie. Are those flowers for me?”
    “Of course they’re for you, dear.”
    Fox took the bouquet and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. “I love flowers.”
    “I wish you’d told me that before. I had no idea.”
    “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”
    He probably wouldn’t have. Thank goodness for Alistair.
    Inside the front hall, Fox closed the door and helped Edward off with his jacket. It was a navy
    blue anorak with faux fur round the hood that Fox had bought him for Christmas. They had laughed
    hysterically about it at the time, but he had to admit it was very warm. Just the thing for London’s
    winter weather.
    “Come into the living room,” Edward said. “I desperately need to sit down, and you can open
    your valentine present.”
    “I’ll put the flowers in water first.” Fox hurried down the hall to the kitchen.
    Fox had decorated the house and chosen all the furniture: brocade couches and chairs in dark,
    dramatic fabrics that Edward would never have thought of. Candelabrum on the mantelpiece, groups
    of photographs and paintings arranged in ways that drew the eye, interesting rugs on the hardwood
    floors—and they had curtains. Even the bathroom was great. Fox had insisted that if no other room in
    the house was Goth, then the bathroom had to be. He had decorated it in black and shocking pink with
    a crystal chandelier and mirrors everywhere. Edward’s parents had no idea what to make of the
    house, but Nik loved it.
    “Fox,” Edward called after resting on the couch for several minutes. Receiving no answer, he
    hauled himself to his feet to struggle on his aching leg to the kitchen. The sight of Fox standing beside
    the counter with a small paring knife in his hand sent fear rippling through his gut. “No!”
    “What?” Fox met his gaze.
    Edward limped toward him and then took the knife from his hand. “Were you going to cut
    yourself?”
    “Oh, Eddie, don’t be a goof.” Fox smiled gently. “Haven’t you noticed? I haven’t cut myself
    since my dad died.”
    Edward put the knife on the counter beside the bouquet. “Yes, of course I’ve noticed.” He pulled
    Fox into a tight embrace. “But I’ve been so scared you’d start again.”
    “No,” Fox said, very firmly. “I won’t. And you should have talked to me about it if you were
    worried.”
    “It’s a difficult subject. I didn’t want to bring it up.”
    “Well, you should have,” Fox said. “We can’t have any secrets between us or stuff we don’t talk
    about openly. For years my dad beat the shit out of us, and we all pretended nothing was happening.
    My mum drank herself into oblivion every day, but we never said the word alcoholic . They knew I
    was cutting myself, but no one brought it up. Let’s not be like that, Eddie.” Fox pressed his forehead
    into Edward’s shoulder while Edward kissed him repeatedly on his ear and