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It had been a fucking night, a sick fucking night. In the words of the lord and saviour Alfie Buttle; It’s been a fucking movie, bro!
In all honesty, Heinz isn’t quite sure how he got here. He’d been in London, and then in Bradford and now he’s stumbling out a back door of a warehouse rave deep in the centre of Manchester. Soccer Saturday gets crazy apparently, for his first one he doesn’t think he’s done too bad.
He’d been running around London all week for different shoots and night outs and rubbing shoulders with people who have decades of experience in the industry and seeing exactly what his life could be like in a few years time. He tries not to think about it that way, especially because they’re all such lovely people but he can’t help it, he’s right at the start of his career and he can see his future mapped out beautifully in front of him. Every now and again one of the older lads, the veterans of the UKYT scene, will look at him in a certain way, a bit wistful, a bit knowing, and it makes him want to vibrate out of his skin.
Cal had asked him the day before, if he wanted to be in the Soccer Saturday video and he’d all but jumped at the chance. He’d then gone out, stumbled back to his hotel at 7 in the morning and deeply, deeply regretted his decision when he’d woken up at 1 to a text on his phone reminding him to be at the pub before the 3pm kick off.
He’d still been a bit tipsy when he’d gotten there, but you know what they say, hair of the dog and all that.
Bradford had scored the first goal of the day and that was that, they were off to the most dangerous place in the country - Waitrose.
It honestly feels like years ago now, stocking up on fruity cocktails in a can and £4 sandwiches for the train up. Worlds away from the dodgy little smoking area he’s found now, bass from music inside rattling in his bones and making his ears ring.
Heinz can party, alright? He can get the fuck down, he loves it, loves getting on the packet and jumping around and burning off the excess energy he always seems to have buzzing around under his skin. He’s had a fantastic night, honestly, but he can feel the week catching up to him now, and it’s started to make him weary and a bit homesick for his room at Ginge’s and his boys and Jakey.
He wonders what Jakey’s doing. It's just ticked past 4 in the morning, he’s probably flat out, curled up in bed with Willow and none the wiser that Heinz isn’t in London anymore, is closer than he has been all week. His fingers twitch with the urge to pull out his phone and book an Uber to Jakey, use the spare key he knows is hidden in the electric box and climb in bed with him where it’s warm and safe and quiet.
Ellie’s probably with him, sleeping in her place in his bed that should be Heinz’s. He suddenly feels very cold and very tired and very alone.
He digs around in his pockets messily, pulling out a crumpled cigarette pack and slipping one between his teeth. He lights it with shaky fingers as he walks deeper into the smoking area, turning the corner. He takes a drag, rubbing at one eye with a tired hand.
The sound of rustling clothes breaks through the silence, and his head snaps up - there sat crossed legged on top of one of the picnic tables and bundled up in his puffer jacket, is Arthur.
He’s blinking at Heinz with big, dark, glassy eyes, cheeks pinkened by the cold, phone balanced on one knee with what Heinz thinks is a game of chess ticking away on it.
The sight makes him smile, Arthur is such an odd little individual. On one hand, he’s easily the smartest bloke Heinz has ever spoken to, an encyclopaedia of knowledge so vast that it actively makes Heinz feel like a fucking moron, small in the face of such a staggering level of intelligence. On the other, he’s watched Arthur walk into three different lamp posts and spill eight separate drinks tonight.
Heinz really, really likes the guy.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” Arthur blinks up at him.
Heinz huffs out a laugh and takes another drag, shaking his head, “you didn’t, don’t worry. What are you doing out here?”
Arthur grins, his eyes seem to sparkle. “I’m not built for this kind of stuff.” He laughs, fiddling with his fingers, “not my kind of thing.”
“Oh, no?” Heinz snorts, taking another drag. “I can’t believe that, you definitely seem like the type of fella to enjoy deafening house music and a bit of the ol horse tranquilliser”
Arthur laughs, bright and loud, completely out of place in the dark, grotty corner of the city they’re in. “Well, I won’t say no to a packet but the music, definitely”
“Yeah I gathered that, with the way you’re sat out here on chess.com” Heinz grins back. “Jakey’s the same, would sooner scalp himself”
He can feel himself wilt a little at the mention of Jake, whatever he’s on is wearing off slowly and reminding him that he’s probably at most a 30 minute drive away from his boy, who’s probably sleepy and cozy and flushed pink and cuddled up with his girlfriend.
He takes another drag of his cigarette.
“Are you and Jakey together, then?” Arthur's curious voice and he chokes on the smoke filling his throat, hacking and spluttering.
“You what?” He wheezes.
“Oh, you aren’t then?” Arthur says, tilting his head slightly in the way he does that makes him look like a little puppy. “Sorry— I just assumed, you talk about him so much” he looks a little contrite now, but still curious, sharp eyes scanning over Heinz in a way that makes him feel like he’s about to be pulled apart and examined.
“No— no, no, definitely not, he’s my best friend.” He shakes his head, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out with his food, avoiding Arthur’s searching eyes. “Jake has a girlfriend, anyway.”
There’s a beat of silence before Arthur speaks again, “Oh.” He says, and then— “Oh.”
Heinz keeps his eyes glued to the concrete slabs, scuffing his shoe. Normally, it would be easier for him to laugh off and make a joke out of it but he’s exhausted, and cold, and heartbroken tonight. He can’t bring himself to brush it off when life feels so cruel at this exact moment, he feels a bit like a toddler, he wants to stamp his feet and throw himself on the ground and scream until he’s given what he wants.
Silence hangs heavy between them for a few moments, it’s near enough suffocating. Just as he’s about to stumble through an excuse to run away, Arthur speaks again.
“Did you meet Isaac this week?” He asks, and for a moment Heinz is confused enough that he must make a face to show that. “Sorry— Bach, did you meet Bach this week? Italian Bach?” Arthur stutters, fumbling fingers pulling at a loose thread on his jeans.
“Uh—“ Heinz stammers, somewhere in his hazy brain a little picture of a man with a mullet and a moustache downing a pint pops into his head, ah yes, the sexiest man alive - aside from Jakey, obviously. “Oh, yeah, I did, I think he was at the pub the other night. Very handsome bloke, int he?”
Arthur smiles, it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and nods, “He is” he huffs a laugh. “Well, Isaac is my best friend.” He flicks his eyes up to meet Heinz’s, they are dark and tired and a little bit sad and—
“Oh.” Heinz chokes, realisation slamming into him like a train. “Fucking hell, that’s shit”
Whatever light had been dancing around in Arthur’s eyes a few minutes ago is well and truly gone now, all that’s left is resignation. A bit like one of those paper flip books, snippets of memories slip through the cloud over his mind and unravel.
Arthur earlier this week in the pub, pink and smiley and loud whilst talking with Bach in the corner of the booth. Bach and his girlfriend, beautiful and blonde and bright, leaving together earlier than the rest of them. Arthur glued to his phone all of tonight, thumbs flicking over his screen at a rabid rate - smiley when a notification pops up, quiet when there isn’t one. Arthur lighting up like fucking christmas tree when someone brings up Bach.
He quickly realises it’s a bit like looking in a mirror, looking at Arthur.
“I think you met Liv too, she’s amazing— we get on like a house on fire” Arthur shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes, suddenly looking a lot older than he is.
Heinz thinks of Ellie, blonde and beautiful and bright, in the background of calls, in the background of streams, in the background of Jakey’s mind constantly. He trips over his feet as he moves to sit on the table Arthur perched on top of.
He tries to recall what he knows about Arthur and Bach. They work together, obviously, they have a podcast together- just the two of them. They’re best friends. He thinks Arthur even mentioned that they live in the same apartment building.
He thinks of the Bov Boys. He thinks of the Bov House, that isn’t the Bov House yet but will be in a few months if everything goes to plan.
“Fuck—“ his breath stutters. “Fucking hell, that’s so shit.” He stumbles.
Arthur shrugs, and turns to look at him. “It is, but there’s not much that can be done, unfortunately”
The way he says it sounds so final, like there’s no room in his voice for any kind of hope. It makes sense, Arthur is nothing if not a logical person with a logical mind, the facts that present themselves leave no room for questioning so he doesn’t. Heinz wishes he was built the same, he’s made up only of emotion and recklessness, very little logic would be found if you traced the wrinkles of his brain.
“Does he—“ Heinz exhales, rubbing at his face. “He doesn't know?”
Arthur shakes his head with a sad little smile. “Does Jakey?”
Heinz sighs heavily and tips his head back. You can’t see a single star when you’re in Manchester, the blackness of the sky is so vast it’s overwhelming. You can see a few stars in Derry, not many, but it’s always a comforting sight when he’s back home. He feels very homesick all of a sudden, like all he needs is to crawl home into his ma’s arms and settle in the warm space there.
“You’ll be alright” Arthur hums quietly, tilting his own head back too. Heinz wonders if he ever gets homesick for his own small island away from the city, where the sky must be filled with stars.
He doesn’t respond. They sit in weighted silence for a few minutes until a thought pops into his mind out of nowhere.
“How long has it been?” He whispers.
“Two years” Arthur breathes, it sounds like pressure releasing.
“Jesus fucking christ” Heinz moans, burying his face in his hands with a choked laugh.
It makes Arthur laugh too, he bumps his shoulder into Heinz’s. “Come on, let’s go back in. You can show me how you’re supposed to dance to shit like this.”
He nods, pulling himself up from the table in a mess of long limbs and exhaustion. “Okay but you’ve got to copy me, none of this bouncing in place stuff, we’re gonna get fucking down.” He says as they round the corner back to the heavy metal door.
Just as Arthur pulls it open, he stops and bites his lip, looking up at him with big eyes. “Don’t talk to Will about this, okay?”
He can feel the crease in his brow deepen as he furrows them. “Will? Why?” He asks, confused. He’s not sure why he’d even be in a position where he and Willne are chatting about Heinz’s doomed love life but there’s no harm in asking.
“Just don’t. If you value your own mental health, don’t speak with him about Jakey.” He replies, cryptically. He blinks at Heinz with a straight face and then ducks through the open door silently leaving Heinz to gape at his back.
Arthur’s such an odd guy.
They dance for fucking hours, he manages to get Arthur to let loose a little more and even gets him to give them a little slut drop at one point. It’s fun, so much fun that Heinz can feel the weight of their conversation slide off him like water.
It takes three more of them falling off the platform before they call it a night.
They all gather outside in little groups, chatting away and yelling over the ringing in their ears as Ubers are booked. Heinz takes a minute to mourn the fact he’s having to leave Manchester to go back to London to get his stuff from his hotel and then get the train back up to Manchester in only a few hours' time. He’d deliberated over if buying a new laptop, chargers and full suitcase filled with clothes is worth it if he gets to crawl into his own bed right now. It takes longer than it probably should have for him to decide, no, it’s not worth it.
He’s sat on the curb when Will drops down beside him with a loud sigh, bumping their shoulders together easily.
“Y’alright?” He grins.
Heinz laughs, “are you alright, my friend?”
“I’m on top of the fucking world, mate.” Will yells, “I’m going to regret this when I wake up later, though. I’m getting too old for this shite” His accent is stronger now he’s pissed, and Heinz suddenly realises this is what other people feel like when he talks. It’s good fun.
“Nah, you’re not. You’re only as old as you feel” Heinz snickers, shaking his head.
“Well, I feel about eighty on a good day so now what?” Will grumbles back, tucking his legs to his chest and resting his head on them, his face turned to Heinz. “How many times have you been out this week? Six? You’re so young and full of life”
Heinz smiles and dips his head, rubbing over his mouth. “Wont last forever, don’t worry.”
They sit in comfortable silence for a minute and for some reason, his conversation with Arthur pops into his head.
And like he’s reading his mind, Will says “are you and Jakey together?”
Heinz snaps his head over to look at him so fast he feels something pop in his neck, he ignores it in favour of gaping at Will. “What the fuck is everyone’s problem tonight?”
“Fucking hell, mate, was just asking” Will scowls, shrugging his shoulders. “You fucking talk about the fella enough.”
“No, we’re not,” Heinz sighs, “he’s got a girlfriend. He’s my best friend”
There’s a beat of silence and then an exhaled “Oh.”
He’s getting the maddest feeling of Déjà Vu right now, fuck sake.
“Yeah, James is my best friend too”
Are you having a fucking laugh?
“Jesus fucking— Is the requirement to being a successful youtuber that you have to have to be in homosexual, unrequited love with your best friend?” Heinz stamps his foot, throwing his hands out. “This cannot be such a common occurrence.”
Will grins, “have you been speaking to Cal?”
“Oh, you are fucking having me on.” He pauses, “Arthur.”
Will cackles, throwing his head back and stamping his feet on the floor in joy. Dickhead.
“Birds of a feather, my friend” He grins.
“There’s no fucking way there can be this many fucking birds, fuck off” Heinz grumbles, but he can feel a smile pulling at his own lips.
Will bumps their shoulders together, “he doesn’t know then, no?”
“No fucking way” Heinz shakes his head with a laugh. “He never will, if I can help it.”
Will nods, with a wry smile. “Tell me about it, eight years strong.”
All of a sudden, absolutely nothing is funny anymore because eight years is a long fucking time. Will is saying something with a smile but Heinz can’t hear him over the ringing in his ears, he can feel bile building in his throat. He feels sick. Eight years.
“Eight years?” He chokes out.
Will pauses in whatever he was saying and looks back at Heinz. He blinks, “Oh. Sorry— Are you going to be sick?”
“Eight years is a long time, Will” He blinks at him, he can feel his head swimming.
There’s a moment of heavy quiet before it’s broken by Will’s broken, strained laugh. He turns his head away and toward the street where all their friends are loitering and generally making a racket, “yeah, I suppose it is.”
Heinz swallows around the boulder in his throat. He feels very young, sitting face to face with a man who has loved for eight years. It feels like a lifetime to Heinz, a commitment close to marriage to somebody who has no idea how deeply devoted you are. He feels small sitting with Will now, what is eight months in comparison to eight years?
He’d spent the week looking at these people around him and seeing his future plotting itself out in front of him, unfurling like red carpet beneath his unworthy feet.
He’s been a fucking fool; This is his future, right here, staring him in the face. It’s the look in Arthur’s eyes, dull resignation that snuffed the light from them in seconds. It’s the strain in Will’s laugh, pain cracking through it like a scar.
There’s not much that can be done, unfortunately
“It’s alright, mate.” Will frets, patting him on the back. “It’s going to be alright, it has to be alright”
“How?” Heinz whispers into the cold night.
“Time will make it alright.” Will whispers back, mostly just gently rubbing up and down his back now. “Time has to make it alright, mate. Time is all I have”
You’ll be alright.
Arthur’s warning comes back to him all at once and he really is a fucking moron. Don’t talk to Will, he says, and what does Heinz do?
Eight years. Time is all I have.
There’s not much that can be done, unfortunately.
Oh, he’s going to be sick.
He throws himself up off the curb and away from Will’s comforting hands, and stumbles to the wall behind him on the other side of the pavement. He empties his stomach there, wheezing as he gags around the burning alcohol and stinging substances scorching a path up his sore throat.
He can feel Will's hand come back to rub up his spine, and can hear him asking if he’s okay. He spits the last of the sour tasting bile from his mouth and lifts his head just as Cal’s voice rings out through the street announcing that the cars are here.
“You alright, mate?” Will asks again, hand still rubbing at his back even as Heinz stands upright.
“Fuck you and your eight years, dickhead” He whimpers back, scrubbing over his mouth with a tired hand. Will laughs in response and leads him over to one of the cars popping the back door open for him.
He looks down the street for a split second and catches sight of AB throwing himself in the other car. Cal is helping Chip in too, with soft hands and softer eyes.
There’s not much that can be done, unfortunately.
Birds of a feather, my friend.
“You go home later today, yeah?” He asks and Heinz nods as he sinks down in the backseat next to a sleeping Arthur. Dickhead. Will pops the passenger seat door open and sinks down in his own seat, greeting the driver easily as Heinz pulls his door closed. “You coming back down anytime soon?”
“Fuck, I hope not” He sighs unthinkingly and then blanches at himself, “sorry—!”
Will, turned around in his chair, snickers and nods, “fair enough, mate. Let me know if you do make your way back down our ends, I’ll take you out for a drink to make up for the emotional trauma of tonight, yeah?”
Heinz smiles weakly and nods as Will turns back around in his seat. He tilts his head to look at Arthur who’s flat out, cheek squished up where he’s leaning on his own shoulder, he looks so young, so much more relaxed than he does when he’s awake, than he did two hours ago, even.
Heinz wonders if the same weight sheds off of him when he sleeps. Probably not, Jakey follows him to his dreams most nights.
He must nod off because the next thing he knows is Arthur’s soft voice saying his name, pulling him from the depths sweetly. When he looks out the window blearily, they are sitting outside his hotel and the sun has begun to rise.
Arthur squeezes his hand as he says goodbye, smiling gently.
You’ll be alright.
“Let me know when you’re in London again.”
“Thanks, Arthur.” Heinz whispers because Will is passed out and drooling in the front seat. Sleep and drugs and alcohol must make him philosophical because he says, “I hope time is kind to you.”
Maybe it’s just being around Arthur that makes you that way because he doesn’t bat an eye at the words, just smiles and says “I hope time is kind to you too, Ryan.”
He thinks of Will.
Time is all I have.
He thinks of Jakey.
There’s not much that can be done, unfortunately.
He swallows around the lump in his throat and opens the car door, thanking the driver with a tired smile. The early hour is biting, but the sunrise is so beautiful it takes his fucking breath away for a moment. Rays of gold and red peaking through the skyscrapers that make up the city skyline. He stands there for a moment as the car pulls away, before turning away and into the hotel.
He doesn’t sleep again, instead choosing to pack his shit and take a long shower. His train is at ten and he makes it there with a Sainsbury’s express meal deal, complete with a bottle of Rodds (and a secret can of Redbull in his bag if it’s shit.)
The train home is long but every now and then a text will pop through from one of the London boys to say bye, and to let them know when he’s back in the city.
He spends most of it waiting for a text from Jakey but he knows it’s futile, he won’t be awake until 1pm at the earliest as per usual. He tries not to think too hard about the conversations he’d had last night, puts his airpods in and blasts his music and turns his brain off so that creeping feeling of being hollowed out won’t come crawling back.
He gets an Uber from Piccadilly station back home and Ginge is waiting for him in the living room when he falls through the door. When he sees the state of him he calls him a baghead with a loud laugh and sends him up to bed, with a reminder about their next Bov shoot on Wednesday.
Crawling into bed feels unlike anything he’s ever experienced, the sheets are clean and cool and his room is dark and it’s euphoric. His phone buzzes and it’s Jakey, asking him if he’s home yet and if he wants to call.
If this is what the time passing is like, eight years might not be too bad. He can almost understand Will now, how almost a decade can slip through your fingers like grains of sand when there’s cool sheets and good friends and messages from the one you love.
Yeah, Heinz thinks as he clicks the call button and Jakey's voice comes through the speakers lovely and bright, eight years are rookie numbers.
Four months later, he sends Will and Arthur a picture of Jakey glowing under the candlelight on their first date.
Arthur replies Told you you’d be alright! Tell Jakey he looks beautiful.
Will sends back fuck you.