Note: very brief reference to a suicide attempt in this chapter.

•••

For a few moments after Levi has spoken, George is silent; as he is stunned at this revelation. Of course, aside from the surprise, he is also feeling a lot of remorse — after all, he's spoken to Levi with a huge amount of disrespect in relation to the topic of sexuality lately; which now, he realises, was for no reason. He swallows forcefully, in a bid to push down the lump that has formed in his throat. He still doesn't quite believe the words he has just heard.

"Sorry ... can you repeat that?" he requests softly, knowing already what Levi said before; but needing to hear it once again.

"I said, I'm gay too." His laughter shudders down the line, into George's ear. "I'm not sure how you missed that, if I'm being honest with you."

"S—So you're saying that—?"

"I'm saying that I understand you, George." He pauses for a second to take a breath; this is clearly not something he expected to be admitting to. "I haven't told anybody about my sexuality either. I wanted to wait until I found someone to bring home to my mum."

"So you're keeping it secret too?" George's hand moves up to his face; as he pinches the bridge of his nose in contemplation. "So wait — you're in the same situation as me?"

"Bingo," Levi jibes, amused. "Well, I mean — I don't have a girlfriend I'm pretending to fancy or anything, but ... "

"Yes, thank you for that." Although his tone is intended to be playful, the events that occurred leading up to this phone call still linger in his mind; enough to subconsciously distract him. "So, how long have you known?"

Although the question is vague, Levi luckily knows what George is referring to. "About four years. I was always questioning before that in my teens, but I knew for sure when I was twenty. What about you?"

"Considering I'm twenty-three now — since I was fifteen. Eight years." He has to halt his speech a moment, as he realises how long of a time that truly is. "Wow. That's double the time you've known."

"Impressive that you've kept it quiet all that time. Have you never had a guy crush?" Levi chuckles; he wouldn't say anything so soon, but having somebody to relate to is a refreshing experience for him — and he hopes George feels the same.

"I fancied this straight guy in college," George explains, rolling his eyes to himself at how naïve he was back then. "Of course, it amounted to nothing. He had a girlfriend anyway. I actually think they're married now, with a young daughter."

"Man — married with a kid, by twenty-three? That's what you call getting stuff done." He gasps in mock surprise, which causes George to laugh — his first proper laughter in a good while. "But, what made you realise you were into guys?"

"Oh man, don't get me started." George bites his lip as he remembers the day he first knew he was gay. "I was in school. Year Ten. I was in my first year of O-Levels. This was back in nineteen-seventy-eight-sort time. I got home from school one day, and I was listening to music on my record player. I had a lot of records from the time — ABBA, The Jacksons, Diana Ross. But that day I decided to play some Bee Gees." He smiles as he reminisces the fond memory. "I remember playing the song, 'How Deep Is Your Love', and I was holding the sleeve that the record came in. It had a photograph of the members stood together, with one of them up in front doing the 'night fever' disco pose."

"I remember Saturday Night Fever very well," Levi comments, as his way of adding to the conversation.

"That's the one," George snickers. "But anyway — I was looking at this album cover; and I just remember that song playing while I was looking at it, and ... God, don't judge me, but I remember noticing how good those guys looked in that photograph."

"Hey, no judgement here," Levi reassures him. "They looked good, I'll give you that."

"They're not so much my type now," George explains; although now, the album cover is engrained in his head. "But as a very hormonal fifteen-year-old, I knew I felt differently about the way they looked, to the way I'd ever found a female to look. If that makes sense."

"Of course it makes sense. And actually, my story is pretty similar." Levi sounds a little embarrassed now; but he is resolute in telling his story, too. "I kind of fell in love with Michael Jackson back when Thriller first came out. Back in 'eighty-two. But it was more his music at first — I used to play that record on repeat in my bedroom. 'P.Y.T.' was the song that got me most. I don't know what it was. Perhaps the way he sang the notes with such passion. But, whatever it was, it, uh ... " He seems shy to divulge his next statement, but he does anyway. "It made me feel some type of way, you know? Gosh." His voice becomes a little flustered, but once he's cleared his throat, he continues. "Anyway. Um, but yeah. Then after that initial seed was planted in my head about him, I saw his music videos on MTV, and I was convinced. Got to say though, I've yet to meet my own Michael Jackson."

"I'm sure you will eventually," George responds. "I'll give you that, though — Michael Jackson's music is pretty good."

"Isn't it?" Levi has become passionate all of a sudden; like an excitable child in a toy store. "Oh my god, did you see the video for 'Beat It', by the way? Probably a stupid question — the whole world has seen it — but my god, it's—"

"Of course I've seen it," George intercepts, scoffing at the notion that Levi could ever think he has lived under a rock the last few years. "I keep up to date with pop culture. I'm not oblivious."

"You're my type of person," Levi answers. For some unknown reason, this statement catches George off-guard; the feeling of his stomach fluttering is a shock to him. Once more, he shakes his head; to dismiss the sensation so that he can continue his conversation.

"So, is 'P.Y.T.' your favourite song of his, then?" George is desperate to try and forget what he tried to do before this phone call now; the shift in how he feels is almost frightening. Only half an hour ago, he was exhilarated at the idea of dying — yet now, he almost relishes in the fact that he's alive. Perhaps this one call has changed something within him.

"It's definitely up there. Although, I've heard he's releasing a new album next year or something. Rumour has it that he's working on something totally different." Hearing Levi talk with such enthusiasm, over something that means a big deal to him, is pleasant to George. Just listening to somebody speak so eloquently about a topic close to their heart makes him feel happiness; a happiness he can't quite explain. "But I'd have to say so far, 'P.Y.T.' and perhaps 'Off the Wall' are my favourites. The song, not the album. Although, the album is a masterpiece — and goodness, it should have gotten the Grammies that year. I'm still mad that it didn't."

"Do you like his earlier stuff, with The Jackson Five and The Jacksons?"

"Of course! Destiny is just art, and I'll defend that for the rest of my life. Although Michael Jackson has completely grown since he went solo."

"I have to agree with that. I think the rest of the world would, too." George lets out some air from his mouth, as a substitution for laughter. "And, well, I never expected to ever meet somebody quite so passionate about their favourite singer."

"I could talk about that man for hours, if you'd let me," Levi admits, perhaps a little bashful of this. "Sorry for talking your ear off, though. This wasn't even meant to be a phone call about Michael Jackson, I promise."

"No, no — I'm enjoying listening," George assures him kindly. "It's nice to hear somebody talk about something they care about. And besides — anything to take my mind off of ... " He doesn't wish to dwell, so he cuts his sentence off there.

"That's fair, I guess. But thanks for listening." His well-spoken accent has a subtle appreciative hint to it; normally, when he tries to discuss music with others, they are very quick to brush it off out of boredom. For George to be willing to listen, brings an indescribable sense of validation to him — as if his words do matter. "B-But anyway, uh, how you feeling?"

"I'm ... " George halts his speech a moment; he tries to rack his brain hard, to determine whether he's feeling negatively or not, for he doesn't wish to lie about this. "I'm ... feeling okay. I mean, obviously a bit shaken. But ... I'm glad you called. Especially when you did. You saved my life."

"I mean, that was sort of my intention." Despite the seriousness of the topic, Levi utters a light laughter, for the sake of pushing away the hero title from himself. "I was worried I'd be too late. I'm glad I wasn't."

"Me too. I'd been spiralling for days, and it all just sort of came out at once. I don't know what happened, but I don't want it to happen again." George sighs sadly, almost humiliated at his attempt at ending his own life. "You're just like an angel, aren't you?" He says this with a jokey tone; but in actual fact, he's dead serious — and, perhaps, trying to very-respectfully flirt through the power of complimenting. Granted, he has no idea what this young gentleman looks like. However, by this point, he doesn't seem to care for the potential appearance; all he cares about, is having someone he can confide in and relate to.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far." His mildly-nervous chuckle is muffled to George, as Levi's mouth is just a little too close to the microphone. "But I'm glad you're okay. And I'm glad you only took two paracetamol. That should clear any headache away that you may get, at least."

"I suppose that's true." George's eyes move downwards, to the note he wrote for Stephanie earlier. "The letter I wrote for Steph is still in front of me. What do I do with it?"

"Rip it up, into the smallest pieces you can make ... and throw it away. Or, if it'll help you somehow — keep it tucked into your diary." Levi appears to try his hand at some very mild flirtation; his technique is earning laughter from his subject. "So you can read it and remind yourself of the time your guardian angel saved you."

"You love that, don't you?" George grins loosely, his mouth just wide enough for his two sets of teeth to be parted slightly; he releases air in quick succession, as his way of showing amusement. His shoulders judder with each fraction of breath he expels. "You love the idea of being some sort of guardian angel."

"It has a ring to it, doesn't it?" Levi presses, before demonstrating his point. "Levi, the Saviour of Mr George."

"Don't flatter yourself. Your skills and knowledge of my existence are limited at the moment. Especially when you wouldn't even be able to pronounce my last name."

"Which is?"

"So you want me to give out personal information over the telephone to a stranger?" George gasps, in artificial shock.

"What more is there to you, than the fact you're a gay man called George?"

"Fair point." George raises his brows at the audacity this person has, despite finding it humorous in secret. "Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou. Go ahead; try and say that."

"I didn't hear 'George' in that name at all!" Levi protests; his excuse to avoid attempting such a mouthful of words for a few seconds longer.

"Maybe because that's not my real name?" George suggests. "I'm Greek-English. It's a Greek name. I only go by George for ease."

"Say the name again."

"Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou. I'd love to hear you try it."

"Alright," Levi braces himself for embarrassment. "Yorg-os Kiri-ah-go Pan-yow-too?"

"I'll admit that's pretty close. You need to work on rolling your Rs, though." George is genuinely impressed with Levi's not-so-feeble attempt at saying his name; in fact, he's the closest anybody has ever come to getting it spot-on, aside him his immediate family.

"Yes, Master," Levi jibes. The playful nickname gives George that strange sensation in his stomach once more, but he doesn't bother to mention it for fear of being made fun of.

"Goodness me." He peers down at the watch on his wrist, noting that the time is now 6:34PM. "Steph will be home soon. I should really sort out ... everything. You know." He refuses to enunciate the words, but he figures Levi will know what he means. "But thanks ... for this. I've needed it. I really, really appreciate it."

"Any time, I told you. We can make this a regular thing, if you like?" His voice holds hopefulness, at the thought of being able to laugh with a person who gets it, more often. "We could call whenever Steph isn't around, so she doesn't think I'm another girl."

"I'd like that," George responds, quieter than he has been the last few minutes. "I'd like that a lot."

"So that's a deal then." Levi laughs once more. "I'll let you go, then. I'll expect to hear from you soon."

"I promise. Bye for now."

"Bye, Yorg-os."

Once the line goes dead, George smiles at the silly pronunciation of his name. He places the phone back on its receiver, before abruptly snatching his poignant note from the little table; he also takes the slip of paper with Levi's number, to prevent Steph from seeing it. He heads upstairs with both of them; arriving at his bedroom, where his diary is still sitting on his bedside table. He unlocks the padlock, slotting the sheets in the very back of the book. He takes his pen, and writes a very brief entry.

Dear Diary,

I lied, but what's new? I'm not leaving yet. He called me back, and at just the right time. I was so close, on the verge. But he saved my life. He saved me from that fate, and I am thankful. I live to breathe another day, with a newfound hopefulness. I'm not fixed, I'm not healed, not even close ... but with him to help, I know I can do this. I'll work on my happiness, and one day I will be happy again.

Yog x

Once he has signed off the entry, he snaps the book shut; after locking it, he rests it on the bed, before heading to the bathroom. The paracetamol packets are still on the windowsill with the glass of water; and the two loose pills he popped from the pods before the phone rang rest on the edge of the sink. He throws them into the bin, before grabbing a hold of the full packets so that he can return them to the kitchen drawer. As he arrives downstairs, he hears the front door unlocking; in reflex, he darts to the kitchen to palm off the tablets quickly. He turns around just as Stephanie enters the room.

"Hello darling," George greets, with an unexpected level of enthusiasm. "How was London?"

"It was great!" she gushes, moving in to give him a kiss in greeting. "How was your day? I hope it wasn't too boring."

"Not at all. I'm glad you had a lovely time." They exchange genuine smiles; it is a heartwarming sight to behold. "I was actually just about to start making myself something. Did you eat when you were out?"

"I had lunch a few hours ago, but not had dinner yet," she responds. "What are you making?"

George hesitates a moment; truth be told, he has no clue. "Ah, screw it. Should we get a takeaway? My treat."

Stephanie beams at this. "Sounds great!" She hurriedly leaves the room, to remove her jacket and shoes; leaving George alone in the kitchen.

He can't help but feel as though he has a little more of a reason to be alive, than he did before. And this warm feeling causes him to smile.

•••

Ahhh! This one was a little nicer, hey? I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! xx