“Fuck,” I mutter. He settles back in his chair. “Okay, I know I’m looking at him like he’s the last twink on the menu, but it’s a momentary madness.” The words pour out of me with a certain wildness. “I’ve never looked at Charlie like this. In all my life he’s been my best friend, and that’s it. Nothing else. What the fuck is the matter with me?”

“I personally think it started when you had that row over Harry,” he says, folding his hands over his stomach. “Or maybe back when he started going out with Harry.”

“What?”

“It threw you completely, Misha. You can deny it all you want, but you were off your game for ages when Harry asked him out. Then you had that huge row with Charlie, and you were desperate to talk to him. It made a tiny part of your brain wake up to what it would be like without him.”

He looks contemplatively at me, and I flush. This is so personal, and I don’t do this sort of conversation unless Charlie forces me. However, Rupert is talking about Charlie and me like he knows a big secret, and I’m desperate enough to stay silent.

He nods as if I’ve confirmed something and carries on talking. “I think that everything got pushed to the side with the worry over the increased seizures, but that tiny part of your brain woke up again when he was away for the six weeks. Now, he’s back and looking great, and it’s like you’re almost meeting a stranger.” He holds his hand out like a conjurer. “And ta-da, you’ve realised that you want him.”

I stare at him. “Is that it?”

He looks stunned. “Well, it’s quite a lot.”

“It’s fuck all, actually. I already worked all that out myself.” I lean forward. “I thought you were going to tell me what to do about it.”

“Well, you’re a big boy, Misha. I sort of presumed you’d know how to proceed with the rest of it on your own.”

“Proceed?”

“Yes. Dates and settling down, et cetera.”

“Dates and settling down, et cetera? Are you fucking mad?”

Rupert looks slightly worried now. “You’re not going to date Charlie?”

“No, I’m fucking not. Are you insane?”

“Why am I insane?” he says crossly. “He loves you. You love him. Get married, adopt babies.” I scrunch my face up in disgust. “Okay, adopt llamas for all I care. Just do whatever comes naturally with him.”

I glare at him. “No fucking way.”

He slumps. “What is the matter with you? You’re perfect together, Misha.”