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it was an uneventful day, as per. bonehead and foyle got called up on the usual stuff. it was all "you can't prance around the town in nothing but your speedos!" and "seriously, do you even own a razor?" day in day out. couldn't they live their lives?
after being threatened to be sacked for the umpteenth time that week, they decided maybe they should put a pair of jeans on... levis, of course, and then they headed down to the pub.
"two pints of lager please, gov." foyle said as he slapped a fiver down on the sticky counter top. they dont think theyve ever been cleaned, and they've been coming for years together.
always together.
the bartender handed them their drinks with a sigh and an eye roll. clearly, the fiver wasn't enough, (and it never was) but they couldnt be bothered to argue about it anymore just for bonehead to pull the whole "we're detectives" card. one day he'll get them though.
they took their drinks, foyle sipping his lightly while bonehead practically chugged his down. thats the difference between them, foyle took his time and bonehead just wanted at it. he slammed the empty glass back down on the table of which they were now sat. he looked at foyle. well, not so much as "looked" as admired. he watched as his perfectly bowed, pink lips wrapped around the tip of the glass, gently slurping the bitter liquid it holds. he watched as his pretty blue eyes sparkled, catching a glimpse of the little flakes of green in them as the light reflected upon them. he didnt realise he was staring.
"you alright, mate?" foyle raised an eyebrow.
bonehead immediately snapped out of it. no, he cant be thinking these things still... the gay serum wore off, right? its normal to find your best-mate-partner-in-crime pretty, isnt it?
shit, shit, shit.
"y-yeah, 'course im alright. why wouldnt i be?" he stuttered a shit response as his heart pounded, anxious. he didnt want him to be suspicious.
foyle shrugged. "you just... seem off. something on your mind?"
oh, god. that question. he hated it. he hated having to address whatever the fuck was going on in that head of his. he didnt want to acknowledge it.
because deep down, he knew, there was something on his mind. something that occupied his thoughts 24/7. eight days a week. day and night. and that thing, was foyle.
his eyes, his hair, his smile, his voice, his face, his annoying personality, everything. there wasnt anything he didnt think of when it came down to foyle. his lovely, lovely, foyle.
but it wasnt just that. there was something that lingered at the back of his mind every day he woke up, and every night before he went to sleep. he even dreamt about it.
or were they nightmares?
the kiss they shared a few months ago, after the big "bust" as foyle liked to call it. he never could quite forget. theyd admitted everything, just like that. of course, foyle had later recovered from the gay serum which had worn off later that evening (and he never told foyle he even took it). but the serum never seemed to wear off on bonehead. and his heart aches.
it aches for foyle.
but he couldn't say that, could he? he feared what foyle would think, especially now he knows his feelings arent reciprocated. and now, every night as he lays in bed, he stays awake thinking about how they never really talked about it, and how he wishes he brought it up sooner. he couldnt bring it up now, it was too long ago. foyle would catch on. instead, he'd accept it. his love, was simply unrequited. he'd never really accept it though.
"bonehead? hellooooo?" foyle waved his hands in front of the zoned-out man in front of him. bonehead was once again, snapped out of his thoughts.
"...sorry. didn't get much sleep is all."
that answer seemed to satisfy foyle, and he just gave a slight nod, sitting back against the velvet fabric of the booth.
bonehead felt sick. he always felt nauseous when he thought about foyle too much, which was a lot. he didnt understand what it was, but a deep pit seemed to form in his stomach, tying it in knots. it made his head ache. it made his heart ache.
"you sure you're-"
"im fine, foyle."
"you're very pale, bonehead."
"i mustve drank too fast. im okay, really."
he wasn't. he felt he was being eaten up on the inside. something was clawing at him from the inside, tearing apart his flesh bit by bit, like he meant nothing. but he should feel like this, shouldn't he? hes having these... unnatural, queer thoughts about his best mate. he deserves to feel... alien.
bonehead and foyle sat in somewhat awkward silence the rest of their usual hang-outs inbetween jobs.
theyd called it a day and split up, bonehead heading to his apartment. his cold, empty, lonely apartment. he fucking loathed it. one thing about bonehead is- though he seems the opposite- he hates being on his own.
not so much as being on his own as, he hates being without foyle.
he headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. the water always took a little while to heat up, so he had to put it on about ten minutes before he showered. the thing is, bonehead was never 'loaded' like foyle. oh, no. people assumed they were both living the high life, caviar and cigars, jags and mansions, but no. that really was just foyle. bonehead was always left to fend for himself. to rot.
he stripped out of his gear, getting a glimpse of his face in the mirror. he hated looking in the mirror. he always ended up staring too long and his face began to contort and morph into this grotesque creature he wanted to claw the skin off of. hes always hated his reflection. luckily, the mirror started to steam up, fogging his vision. it was also a sign the shower had heated up, of which he stepped in, feeling the warm water hit his calloused and rough skin. the kind of skin no one could love. not even foyle.
bonehead spent too long in that shower, mainly because he didnt have the energy really to get out. when he did, his skin was all wrinkled.
he slipped into some boxers and a raggedy old t shirt, heading straight to his bed. the one thing he could rely on. not lately though, he could never fall asleep. instead, he lays awake every night, torturing himself. it all flashes through his mind: foyle. the kiss. foyle again. their daily hang outs that mean so much to him but probably mean fuck all to foyle, and foyle some more.
he cant deny himself any longer. hes finally realising that maybe, just maybe, the gay serum never did wear off. that, or...
he was just gay. simple. pure.
but it wasnt simple, nor pure. bonehead was never religious, too many bad things happen in the world for there to be any sort of 'god', but one thing he does believe is that, being gay is a sin. its disgusting. unnatural. not normal.
he wanted to throw up.
he wanted to die.
his parents would be so disappointed. so incredibly ashamed. all he craved was approval, acceptance, and love. but what, hes gay now? he'll never be accepted. never.
his eyes stung, as they often did whenever he thought about his sexuality. only this time, he let te tears fall. what did he have to lose? he was ashamed of himself. he was already weak. whats a few tears? and so he cried. he cried and cried and cried till there wasnt any tears left to cry. he didn't want to be like this.
that's what he hated the most. people always act like, being gay is a choice.
if it was, he certainly wouldnt choose it. he would never ever choose to feel like this. he never wanted to hate himself as much as he does right now.
he laid in bed all night, staring at the mouldy patches on the ceiling as the inevitables came over him. he was gonna have to tell foyle, wasnt he? he was going to have to tell his best friend, and fellow detective, that not only was he gay, but in love with him too.
the thought made him stomach twist.
why couldnt he be normal?
why couldnt foyle be a girl, for christs sake?
maybe itd relieve some pressure, or maybe itd make everything worse. fuck, maybe hed even feel the same. his heart ached even more at these thoughts, 'cause deep down he knew what would really happen.
it was a week later, and bonehead was on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
he had to tell foyle, he knew he did. but he couldnt find a way to muster up the words without wanting to vomit.
theyd just finished a job, and were drained. so they ended it how they ended all of their 'busts' (as foyle liked to call them): by getting pissed. perfect.
a few hours flew by as they drank, chatted shit and laughed together. foyle had had a few. bonehead wasnt drunk per say, but more so tipsy, which was probably best for what he was about to do. they were both laughing over a dumb joke bonehead made, and as the laughter died down slightly, into more of a comfortable silence, bonehead cleared his throat. he was really going to do it, wasnt he?
"hey... uh... foyle?"
foyle cocked an eyebrow, a slight grin still present on his face. "yeah?"
bonehead swallowed. fuck. he cant do this. "i-i need..." he choked back tears, "i need to tell you something."
foyle sat up a little. hed never seen bonehead like this. "hey- whats going on? you're not dying, are you?"
"i-i-" he huffed out a slight chuckle, "no, foyle, you tosser. im not... dying."
foyle nodded slightly, "okay... so whats up?"
right. he had to do it. theres no turning back now. he swallowed down the bile that dared to come up.
"im..." his bottom lip trembled. foyle just stared at him, waiting. it didnt help.
"im... im uh.."
"well, spit it out, bonehead!"
"gay. foyle. im gay."
foyles eyes widened a little, but he calmed down slightly, "oh, right. the gay serum. you could give it a little longer, it'll wear off im sure-"
bonehead swallowed, shaking his head as his leg bounced anxiously under the table. "no, foyle. its... its been too long. im uh, just gay."
foyle went back to shocked, and he seemed... uncomfortable. "...oh. right."
"and the reason im telling you is-" bonehead continued, but paused as he stumbled over his words, choking on them slightly as tears clouded his vision. "i-i think im in love with you, foyle. i... no. i know i am. i cant stop thinking about our- our kiss. i know it meant nothing to you but it meant everything to me and i just cant stop thinking about-"
foyle immediately stood up, his chair slamming onto the floor from the impact. it was obvious how he felt from his reaction alone. and his face... contorted with... anger. disgust.
what bonehead feared the most, had come true.
"thats fucking- jesus, bonehead. that isnt normal." he swore, getting even angrier,
bonehead bit his lip anxiously, starting to get a little agitated himself. "i know, alright? i-"
foyle groaned, "i cant believe this whole time you- fancied me! you couldve told me sooner!"
bonehead slammed his fists on the table and jolted up. "you know you kissed me back that day. you said you loved me too!"
"yeah, that was 'cause of the gay serum though, wasnt it?! you're just plain queer!"
bonehead was furious. he stuttered and stammered over his words over and over, trying to breathe but no air seemed to go in. he felt like he was being suffocated. foyle grabbed his jacket.
"wha- where are you going?!" bonehead rushed, panicked.
"i dont want to so much as hear your voice ever again, bonehead." foyle stated harshly as he slammed through the pub door exit. bonehead quickly followed behind him. it was pissing it down with rain, which didnt help. bonehead grabbed foyles sleeve. foyle whacked him away.
"fuck off, faggot!" he growled, putting his arm out for the nearest taxi.
the impact of foyles shove sent bonehead falling onto his arse on the hard (and wet) concrete as the rain pelted down around him, the sharp coldness of it like little pins on his skin. he had no words left to say, just looking up at foyle in utter disbelief. this was his best friend. co-worker. partner in crime. pal. buddy. mate. crush. and all those years spent together, thrown away just like that. all because of his sexuality. all because he loves, not in another way, but...
well, he didnt really know, actually. he loves the same as any straight person loves. he feels the same things as straight people do... he wants to be loved as a straight person is loved.
so really, what did make him so different?
he wished he knew. instead, hes getting drenched in the pouring rain, watching as the man he loves- the only man he could ever love- slips away.
now he knows the meaning of so close but so far, as he watches his everything turn into nothing.
and that was the last time bonehead ever saw foyle.