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I can’t quite remember all of what happened three nights ago. I do remember some things; things I’d rather forget.
But as I lie here in present day, Sunday 20th March, I feel safe for the first time since I was an infant.
--
It was Monday morning – well, afternoon – when I woke up from the confines of my bed. Before retrieving lunch, I clothed myself; a black Sidemen t-shirt with ‘SDMN’ written in orange and some black tracksuits. Afterwards, I thought about what was planned for that day; luckily, I wrote down some notes in my notebook so I wouldn't forget.
4:00pm – Record GTA w/ Simon, Tobi, Vikk and Ethan.
6:00pm – Edit and render GTA episode.
Mondays were never hectic for me – 3 things to do for YouTube maximum, where it was usually 4, 5 or even 6 things.
Since my notebook was open, I scheduled some more things for later on in the week including a couple of livestreams since I hadn't done any in a while.
I shut my notebook, placed it on my desk and walked down the stairs to the kitchen to make some sandwiches.
In the kitchen was Simon. He was sitting on the island scrolling through Twitter.
“Afternoon sleepy head!”
“Hey.” I ruffled through the cupboards and even the bread bin looking for bread. “Do we have any bread left?”
“No, unless you want to eat the ends.” Rifling through the fridge, I noticed we didn't have much edible food left. Looking towards the clock I saw that it was exactly 2:14pm.
“Do you want anything? I'm going out food shopping,” I asked, standing in the doorway putting my coat on.
Simon thought for a second. “Maybe some pizzas. We could eat some tonight.” I felt for my keys, slid them into my coat jacket and made my way out.
I came home an hour later and recorded GTA with Simon, Ethan, Tobi and Vikk. I then edited, rendered and uploaded some videos for both of my channels. At around 9:00pm me and Simon cooked and ate pizza. Simon said Vikk had come down earlier and said to take a few slices to him whenever it was ready, so I volunteered to give the remaining slices to him. I said my goodnights to everyone and slept in my room.
This was the last normal day of my life.
Skipping to Tuesday evening, I recorded some videos with Simon and Tobi to upload to our channels. JJ came in late afternoon wanting to record a video with Simon. He and I did not exchange words the entire time he was there. Apart from when he offered to take us to a bar. Since I had nothing planned, I went. Simon and Vikk were either tired or recording so I was the only taker on the offer.
The journey on foot went smoothly, and so did the first few drinks. I hadn't drunk alcohol in a year or so, and I forgot how much it affected me.
The first drink was gone in two minutes. A few hiccups and a small headache but nothing dangerous.
The second drink had not gone down as easily as the first: my headache worsened and I began to feel queasy, but I kept drinking.
I can’t remember much after that. All I know is that by the end of the third drink, JJ had gone off probably with a girl or two and I was sat at a bar table by myself. It was definitely after midnight and I had to get home. After failing to scour the bar for JJ, I stood up and walked through the door.
Almost immediately I fell roughly onto my side, coming face to face with concrete.
“Oi, you should’a looked where you was going! Blind bastard! Nearly broke my fucking nose, mate!” A face appeared before mine: a skinny white male in his late 30s with pale blond hair and a chubby face. He breathed on me and his breath reeked of strong beer.
“You walked into me!” I pushed myself up slowly.
“What was that? Do you wanna say that again, cretin?” A foot landed on my chest, keeping my body flat against the cold stone pavement. I stared into that face for a second before I was dragged down an alleyway by the side of the pub. “Say that again, I dare ya!”
Feeling adrenaline rush through my veins I shouted back. “You walked into me, you mong!”
“Do ya think you seem tough?” A hand came to my throat and I suddenly realised that I was no longer against the floor, but against a jagged brick wall. “Just because you have a beard doesn't mean you’re tough! Don’t talk back to me, you fucking twat!” A steel-like fist landed against my stomach making me cave inwards. The man let go of my neck and slapped my face hard. His other hand held my head up to look him in the eye. “Have you ever been beaten up before, faggot?” I tried to shake my head. “This is a taster session.” A knife was drawn from his leather jacket. I looked at it in pure fear, hairs standing on end.
I kept blacking out at that point. Sometime after I was struck with the knife on my head, the attacker had sliced through my top from top to bottom which left me with a thin trail of blood down my torso. He kept shouting abuse at me, telling me that I was gay, not threatening and a pussy. Amidst my tears and sweat was blood: all over my torso, my face and a few patches on my leg. The knife was as drenched as me.
It ended with the knife being plunged into my left knee. I howled in pain and thrashed around for a few minutes. Drained emotionally and physically, I sat, back against the wall and waited patiently for the attacker to leave. He eventually did and I reached for my phone. I scrolled down my contacts to the first man that came to mind: Simon.
J: Help
S: What’s up?
J: Can you pick me up at the bar please
S: Sure. Where’s Jide?
J: Don’t know
I passed out. When I woke up, someone was shaking my shoulder gently.
“Shit, Josh. Oh fuck, fuck…” My eyes landed on Simon. Through my blurred vision, I could tell he was crying.
“Are you crying?” I mumbled, smiling sadly. His eyes seemed to smile back.
“No.”
“Hey,” Our eyes met. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“No, Josh, you’re dying!”
“Just… phon…” I passed out again.
--
I wake in a bed several hours later. It was difficult to look around but from what I could see, Simon was sat sleeping next to me. He was sat upright in an uncomfortable chair, head facing the ceiling. I felt a tube lying across my face. There was also an IV taped to the back of my hand.
“Simon?” I muttered, finding my throat to be dry and sore. “Simon?”
He awoke with a start and proceeded to smile. I remember thinking, ‘was he this cute before?’ and scolding myself for thinking like that. His smile was contagious, so I naturally smiled as much as I could.
“Josh! Oh my God, I thought you were dead, I was worrying so much, I've been here for hours in this Hell, oh Josh…” He grabbed my hand (the one that didn't have the IV in) and stroked my palm. “I thought you were dead.”
“Well, I'm not. I'm here Simon.” His blue eyes looked into mine and everything seemed to stand still. I was lost in his eyes. It was as if I was a boat and he were the sea. I sat there for what seemed like hours just staring. Simon then did something I never expected: he kissed my hand. His lips were smooth and calming on my skin. I then surprised myself by saying something I would have said to Freya two years ago; “My face is up here, you know.”
Simon looked up, startled, and blushed. He looks very cute when he’s flustered and embarrassed. He stood up and cupped my face, pressing my mouth to his. The short but sweet kiss was ended abruptly when the remaining Sidemen entered the room. Everyone cheered and was smiling. They all stood around me and Simon.
“Emon is no more, long live Minizerk!” Shouted Harry, thrusting his arms in the air.
“I thought what we had was special, bae!” Ethan pretended to look hurt but couldn't suppress a giggle.
---
And that brings us to today. Sunday 20th March.
I was released a few days after the incident and Simon drove me home. I still can’t believe it. Me and Simon. I thought
it was a dream, but dreams don’t feel this good, this real.
In present day, I am lying in Simon’s lap in the living room watching Millwall thrash Liverpool.
I couldn’t have asked for a better ending.