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I've been to August's house more times than I should admit out loud, but each time I come here, there's something that feels so homely about it. He isn't an interior designer by any stretch, and the house is a bog-standard narrow terraced house on the outskirts of London. The whole inside vibe used to be brown, black and white, minimalistic and very... plain. While I was detoxing (when I could get around) because I couldn't pay him back with money, I agreed with him I'd help him redecorate. To be fair to him, he took me out, paid with his card and let me go wild as long as it wasn't what he called 'girly'.

Now, August's house feels warm, minimalistic and yet very... homely. There are little bits and pieces that make the place feel like it's a home, yet it doesn't feel too out of character. I mainly went for an autumn-type vibe with warm colours and plain whites and creams to match his personality. He doesn't say it, but I know he loves the autumn more than any other season.

He still has the décor like it now, and every time I walk in here, it just feels like my home, despite him kitting out my flat on the other side of town.

I sit on a chair in the kitchen while he dishes up the Indian takeaway he picked up on the way home. I've always had this chair; the one that looks out over the small narrow grassy garden outside. He needs to trim the grass soon, but otherwise, it looks tidy. The flowers I keep planted are blooming – a flower called Avery.

"You thought about what you wanna see on Saturday?" August asks as he pours me a Diet Coke, him a beer. "You sure you're okay with me having a drink?"

I snort. "Of course. Only you're allowed, though. The thought of beer just makes me want to puke, anyway. And no, not yet. Saturday is two days away, still got a full day of work to go before I can think about it."

He brings over the food and then the drinks before sitting opposite me. I wait for him to inject his insulin for dinner before making any move – only fair, after all, despite every time him getting annoyed at my waiting. I don't see how it's fair to him to start without him when he can't help needing to have his medication.

We both simultaneously mix our korma with the rice while the naan bread and samosas sit in the middle of the table. With his left hand, he adjusts his glasses before sighing. I know what's going to come out of his mouth before he even says it, so I put a spoonful of food in my mouth. Smooth, coconutty, curry sauce and rice. The best food ever.

"It worries me he's following you around."

I nod and finish my mouthful. "I know."

"There's only so many times you can come here before he tails this place, too. The fuck are we gonna do?" August asks before eating some food.

I sip my drink. "No idea. Until he does something, all I can do is apply for a restraining order, which I've already started looking into."

He sighs. "I can put you on annual leave. Myself, too. Or you on emergency leave until it's sorted and I'll take holiday so it doesn't look too dodgy. We can stay here or at yours, I don't know. Or fuck it, go somewhere else... the States or Europe until they can get you a restraining order."

I grin before eating some food. "Don't think it quite works like that. As nice it would be to spend time together—"

"We'll do it, then."

"August, it doesn't work like that. It'll take weeks to get an order. Plus, if they work out we're together... and if Isaac works out anything more, I'm worried they'll set the gang on you."

"Why would they do that? I'm a friend in his eyes."

"Come on, anyone with a brain can see it's more than that. Isaac's many things, but stupid isn't quite one of those things." I take a bite and swallow before carrying on. "Whatever he wants with me – for clout, love or something else, probably more power – if he thinks you're in the way, he'll do something. If we act any more suspicious... I'm worried about that. There's no way I can have you in danger."

He glances away as he eats. We both stay in silence for a few moments, the food between us the focus. The words aren't coming and we know why – there's nothing we can do, there's no answer here. Well, there is, but it's not one that works for us both.

"The best thing we can do is continue our lives normally until I can get the order. I'm confident he won't do anything to harm me, and if he doesn't know about us then he won't harm you either. We just continue dancing around this whole thing. If he steps out of line, I will call the police. Once an order is in place, he won't breach it for fear of going back to prison." I finish my curry and mop up with the naan bread.

August sighs and finishes his food. "That's—it leaves you living in fear."

I shrug. "It is what it is. There's nothing more we can do."

"Trust me, there's a few things I'd love to do to him, like punching him."

We both laugh.

I grab the plates from the table when we're both done and stack them in the dishwasher like I live here. I did live here for a while when detoxing. It still feels like my home; when I'm here, it falls back into that time of longing glances, nights of kissing, painful detoxing and distressing truths. So much of our history is tied into those months, and so much we know about each other occurred then. Yet despite the pain, that time was nothing but pure perfection. Being around August always is, though, and always will be.

"I don't..." He trails off as I close the dishwasher. "Aves, I... I'm already concerned. I'm serious about taking time off."

My eyes meet his across the room. When a door closes, that click when it fully shuts is satisfying as fuck. Not sure why. Maybe I find it so satisfying because I lived on the streets for so long and didn't have such a simple thing as a door. When I moved in here to detox, August got me a lock for the spare room where I stayed – which he still keeps as my room unofficially – and every time I locked it, it felt satisfying and like I had something of my own. When I was struggling to ground myself, I'd take myself to my door and just play with the lock, putting it on and off for a while until the craving for drugs subsided.

I think August worried about that behaviour for a while, but looking back, it proved as a distraction to stop the itch.

The moment our eyes meet, that satisfaction from the lock of the door comes back. There's nothing more I want in this life than to drown in everything August Butler right now. We're now a step above the longing glances, but we're nowhere near the official label. Despite me wanting to be very official. Holy fuck, I would marry this man if I could. If I got down on one knee right now, I don't doubt he'd scoop me up and take me to the registry office tomorrow. Legalities of getting married aside.

Avery, stop.

Life isn't a Disney film. My life would be the very stark opposite. I'm the sidekick or the villain – I haven't quite worked out my place in a princess film. Isaac would be the villain, so would I be the villain's sidekick or the princess' sidekick? Maybe I'm neither and just the background character, the NPC in a video game.

That's ridiculous because Isaac wants me. I might be used and wanted for his gain, but I'm wanted. That makes me a side character in Isaac's story.

But in my own story? I've never really been the main character. Oh, no. Isaac always made sure of that.

Except now, when I meet August's gaze. He makes me the main character in both mine and his story; together and separate. I've never been more wanted or loved despite our inability to be together.

I open the fridge door and grab the cheesecake, putting it on the side. When I close the door, he's in front of me, giving me the look.

"All right, I'll take time off," I whisper. "I just cannot afford to take too much."

August scoffs. "If that's the case, then you have a shitty boss."

I giggle. "He's all right. I mean, not too strict, but also a bit mean, you know? Not sure he'd allow me too much time off at all."

He raises his eyebrows, glasses shifting. "If he's so bad, you should leave the job, you know? Get a better boss with a better attitude."

I find myself against the wall, August in front of me. He makes a point of not touching me, instead, placing his hands on either side of me on the wall.

"It's funny you should say that; I hear whispers of a new role coming up. Better pay, nicer boss." I whisper the last two words.

He dips his head, lips ever so close to mine. There's a distinct smell of alcohol, but it's so faint, I'm not tempted by that. His damned lips are the things I want, but he's not giving in.

"It'll be a shame for you to lose the old role, Avery. I've heard the boss likes you the best."

I arch an eyebrow. "A good boss does not play favourites, August."

"Oh, trust me, he doesn't professionally. But every single time you turn up in his eyeline, there's no one and nothing else he can see. Every time there's a meeting, he places you opposite, just so he can watch you. Every time there's a chance to get you alone in his office, he does it. The pay he gave you? Bigger than he would've given to someone else. Your boss plays favourites, just subtly."

My lips part, but nothing comes out. What the fuck do I say to that? I know it all, of course, deep down. But the way he's acting right now is making my breath hitch.

"I can't remember what we were discussing, to be honest," I whisper.

There's a ghost of a laugh on his lips. "How you were going to take time off work, and your boss will definitely sanction as much as you need off. Probably best to take until you get this new role—"

"Which I haven't applied for yet, and doesn't mean I'll get it."

"Trust me, you'll get it. They prefer hiring internally."

How the fuck does this man make everything sound so sensual? His voice is hooded, seductive, and it's taking every inch of self-control I have not to claim his mouth as mine. He's discussing work, and it sounds like a siren song.

"I've heard rumours your boss might take some emergency annual leave himself; he's got a lot to take."

I giggle. "This is ridiculous. You do that, you'll raise suspicions, as I said earlier."

He shrugs. "Don't care. Policy allows us to be friends. Plus, I'm your sponsor."

"Which the company has no idea about, by the way. If they found out you sponsor me for addiction—it was difficult enough for you to persuade them I was clean. Holy fuck, being my sponsor is probably worse than fucking me."

Darkness flashes in those eyes, and I know exactly what he's heard there. "Tell me that again."

"Being my sponsor is probably worse than fucking me."

"Funny, Aves, you know what I mean."

"Fuck me," I whisper the words.

A groan comes out of his mouth. "Don't tempt me."

"There is cheesecake for pudding." I nod towards the kitchen bench. "Why waste your energy now when there's a long night ahead? Plus cheesecake, August."

He laughs, and the sexual tension dissipates within a second. "Trust me, there's one thing better than cheesecake, and it's you. But this time, you're right. I've decided you're staying over."

I playfully arch an eyebrow. "Oh, am I now? I didn't bring my pyjamas, or a toothbrush, or a hairbrush. Or a change of clothes, or makeup."

His eyes roam up and down my body, undressing me in his mind. It fuels the desire in me all over again, but I keep it to myself. "Trust me, Aves, it'll be fine. I have a comb and a spare toothbrush. You won't need makeup or clothes because you're off work tomorrow. You definitely will not need pyjamas either."

My eyes widen as he moves away to start dishing up the cheesecake. How the fuck does he even manage to be this seductive? August is a no-shit man; he'll tell you like it is, tell you what you need to do to improve and he'll lay it all out on the line.

He'll come out with some smooth lines once in a while, when we're alone, or the undertone to his comments will sometimes be flirty, but now we're open with each other in a sense, or at least, seeing each other, the smoothness has come out in full force.

Not that I'm complaining. I'm really not.

We sit back down to eat the cheesecake in a comfortable silence. Except in my head, it's not quite comfortable. The thought of time off haunts me. I won't be getting paid – but I know August won't let me go without somehow – means there's more chance of my mind going awry. It's the right thing to do, he's right, yet the thought of being at home more means more chances to brood over Isaac and drugs.

It means less chance of a distraction. More chance to find myself, which I need to do. For the longest time now, I realised the problem is that I don't know myself. There's an Avery in there waiting to come out, one who isn't down (or high) in the dirt and past. She just needs to be found.

Time off is a great chance to do that, but Isaac hanging around is not a good thing for that. Maybe I do need to get away for a while. Or... just stay here, lying in August's bed, never surfacing.

That's the bad thing, though. My problem back then was my identity became lost until all I was became a junkie and I became a shadow of myself and, well, Isaac's property. Finding a new identity has been hard going, and I'm still not there. The very issue I also run is if I allow myself to make this relationship with August officially labelled now, putting the danger aside, I'm afraid my identity will get lost again and I'll just become August's.

I know for a fact August won't put a claim on me, or be possessive or anything like that, but in my mind, it could lead to my brain telling me I'm not my own person yet.

This all just needs to be carefully done, and Isaac's reappearance just fucks the stepping stones I'd been so careful to lay down for myself.

"Aves, listen to me, you got this, okay? I'm here for you every step of the way. Just tell me where you need me, what you need me to do and I will help you out in any way. Okay? I cannot imagine how alone you might be feeling right now, but I promise you, you're not."

I meet August's gaze as we both finish our pudding and despite the clear sexual tension that may as well be breathing in this room, I see the pure truth in his eyes. I believe him; whatever I need, he'll risk his job, money and life for me. The problem is, I don't want him to do that – he doesn't deserve to be pulled down to my level. August deserves better than that and always will.

"Thank you." I keep my thoughts to myself because while I might have the best intentions to keep him away, I know he won't stay away. We're now entangled and tied together. Well, we have been since the moment I walked into his office all those years ago. Our feelings have just made that tie tighter. 

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