AS MISERABLE AS HE is, Alex feels a little bit proud. He didn’t storm out. He didn’t even slam the bedroom door. It all feels final, though. He doesn’t start shaking until he sits down on the bed.
The last thing Alex expects after he’s turned out the lights — bags packed and a worried email composed to Carly, who is possibly the only person who understands Paul better than he does — is the door to open. He doesn’t say anything at first, merely watches Paul undress in the dark. When Paul lifts the duvet and climbs into bed, Alex is shocked and a little ashamed at how automatically his body moves to tangle itself with Paul’s. It feels like water to be touched by someone who isn’t paid to do so. He’s long since given up trying to explain to people what it feels like to be an object for hair
