He cocks his head to one side, listening for a few minutes, and then he smiles at me, pulling me down to kiss him. “Really?” he asks almost bashfully.

“Really,” I whisper. “My song for you.”

We look into each other’s eyes as Chris Martin sings about love. It’s a word that hasn’t passed our lips since we’ve entered this new phase of our relationship. I’ve skirted close a couple of times, because of course I love him. How could I not?

He’s always been the most important person in my life, but I’d always thought that eventually, I’d have to make my partner number one. I never thought Misha would occupy both spots, and I’ve never been happier. He’s everything to me now—best friend, lover, sounding board, and cheerleading squad.

However, because it’s so good I’m also half waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s a fact that Misha has never stuck around long enough with any of his lovers to develop feelings. Will he be scared if I tell him what I feel? It’s a strange situation in that he’s the first person I tell my worries to and now he’s part of the problem.

He looks up at me and smiles.

“What’s your song for me?” I ask, rather abruptly.

“Erm, let me think.” He winks. “‘I Wanna Sex You Up.’” I frown, and he laughs. “No, hang on, it’s ‘Fuck Forever’ by the Libertines.” I manoeuvre off him, stung, and his laughter dies immediately. “No, wait,” he says. “Where are you going, Charlie?”

I stand up. “For a shower.”

“No, don’t go.”

His words fade away as the aura rises, clouding all my senses. The next moment, darkness descends.

When I come to, I lie there for a second, taking stock of the situation. I’m completely naked, as is Misha. He’s sitting on the floor cradling my head in his lap and stroking my hair, and I know he’s been talking. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve come round to hear the comforting rumble of his voice. But this is the first time it’s happened when we’ve been naked, and I’m oddly embarrassed and vulnerable—feelings I’ve never had around Misha before.

“Hey, you,” he says softly. “You’re back.”

I struggle up to a sitting position, feeling his hands support me. His touch and his voice are easy and soothing, but I feel a wave of shyness cover me, and I stagger to a standing position and climb onto the bed. I reach for the duvet, and he tucks it carefully around me.

“You alright?” he asks, stroking my hair back.

I swallow, grimacing at the horrible taste in my mouth, and he reaches for my water, helping me to a sitting position and pressing the glass into my hands.