Note: this chapter contains some reference to abuse.

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"Babe? I'm home." George shuts the front door behind him, before hanging his coat up on the rack. The sudden rush of warmth from being inside a heated house overwhelms him; in reflex, he moves his hand to his turtleneck collar, pulling at it a few times to let some air into his sweatshirt to cool him down. "Where are you?"

"Living room," Steph calls back; this causes George to frown a little, as he'd hoped she would be out.

"Alright." He walks towards the living room, opening the door to peep his head around it. "You got any plans tonight?"

"Why? Did you want me to?" she interrogates, closing the magazine she has in her hands. "Because Stacey and some of the girls asked if I wanted to go for some drinks in an hour or so. I told them I'd wait for you to get back to see if you minded."

"Of course I don't mind," George assures her, flashing a smile. "I told you, as long as we can afford it. Which we can. And it's Saturday night, so go wild." He chuckles, fully entering the room to join her on the sofa. "Although, please be careful with your drinks. I don't want you getting spiked like I did."

"You don't need to be so worried about it." She takes his hand in her own, using her free hand to squeeze his cheek lovingly. "I'll pay attention to everything, I promise."

"Alright. Good." George nods, evidently satisfied with this response. He sits back on the sofa, before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows to alleviate some of the heat his skin is experiencing. This exposes his self-inflicted scar from a few days ago; he tries not to acknowledge it, but he has told Stephanie that he caught himself on a sharp corner at work. "You can go get yourself ready. I'll just sit in here for a bit."

"Thank you." She launches herself onto him, peppering his face with numerous kisses to show her appreciation. "I'll shout you before I go." With that, she leaves the room; leaving George alone with his thoughts.

His eyes move to the clock on the mantle. Each second that ticks by feels like an eternity to him; he's waiting impatiently for Stephanie to go out so that he can call Levi again. In the meantime, he occupies himself by flicking through the magazine that Steph left next to him. He makes a mental note of all the pages that feature attractive men; this is for his own personal pleasure later on, when he's alone. It's a sad hobby to partake in; but, it's the only way he has to numb the intense sexual desires he occasionally gets. Half an hour goes by; by which point, Stephanie returns to the room all dolled-up.

"I'll be leaving now. I'll see you later on. Love you." She gives a quick wave, before disappearing out of sight once again.

"Have fun," George responds just before she's fully left the house. Upon hearing the door slam shut, he takes this as confirmation that he's safe to do as he pleases; he makes a bee-line for the telephone, removing it from the receiver as he dials Levi's number. It rings three or four times; in this space of time, George's nerves build up a little. He knows he has nothing to worry about — yet, he can't help but feel the tingling sensation in his stomach, from anticipating Levi's answer.

"Hello?" Levi's voice greets uncertainly.

"Hi Levi," George chuckles; his way of expelling at least some of his anxiety. "It's George."

"Oh, hi." His tone picks up a little; he's clearly pleased to hear George on the other side of the line. "Took you a few days to talk, didn't it?"

"Life got in the way. Work and stuff. Sorry," George apologises. Just hearing Levi talk again reinstates the feeling of relief, that he isn't truly alone in the world. "But Steph just went out for the night, so I've got plenty of time to spare."

"Don't worry about it. Stuff happens sometimes, doesn't it?" Levi releases air from his mouth as a substitute for laughter. "I'll try not to bore you to death about Michael Jackson this time, though."

"You could if you wanted to," George offers kindly, a smile unconsciously spreading across his face. "You can talk to me about anything you want, and I'll listen."

"You're too nice. But I guess we can start off with ... how was your day?"

"It was pretty decent. I went to the local pub with Andrew, and he met a chick there. She seemed nice. Very well-spoken; a little bit prejudiced initially. I mean, she made the assumption I was gay, without me even saying a word."

"Wow — she's onto you," Levi snickers. "What did you say to that?"

"Well, me and Andrew kind of just denied it I guess. Then she apologised for making the assumption. It wasn't a major thing. Quite funny actually." George rolls his eyes to himself as he recalls the brief event. "But anyway, how has your day been?"

"It's been pretty good actually. My mum just got a new puppy. Golden Lab called Meg."

"That's adorable," George coos playfully. "You'll have to get a picture of her and post it to me."

"That would involve me knowing your address. I highly doubt you'd want me to know your address, seeing as we're just strangers." Levi's remarks are true; although to avoid awkwardness, he makes light of them. "For all you know, I could be a murderer and I could come and find you."

"Somehow, I doubt it," George scoffs; the idea of such a genuine individual ever possibly being a cold-blooded killer, is beyond his imagination. "But I guess that's a fair point. I guess I can imagine what a Golden Lab puppy looks like without the visual."

"This is also true. But anyway, she is really cute. My mum is besotted with the little thing. She needed the pick-me-up, because our other dog Darcey died a few months ago. She was a Great Dane," Levi explains further. "We still have another dog — a Yorkshire Terrier: Maisie. But I think having two dogs around does her the world of good."

"Your mother sounds wonderful," George compliments sincerely. "And those dogs are awfully lucky to have her as their owner."

"I love my mother to pieces. She deserves the entire world, for everything she's put up with. My father died when I was young, and she remarried. But her new husband was incredibly abusive." His voice seems to soften as he tells his poignant story. "I came home from college one afternoon, to find her in a pool of her own blood. He'd hit her so hard, that she went unconscious. But the good news is, he's in prison now — and she's doing fine. Of course, she'll always have the trauma element, but she's working through it the best she can. And I'm always around for her, too."

"I'm so sorry she went through all of that," George mutters, feeling that talking any louder would eliminate the melancholy atmosphere that has developed. "But I'm glad she's doing better now. And you're amazing, for being there for her through everything."

"It's my duty, isn't it?" Levi dismisses the praise. "My mum brought me into this world, and I'm grateful for that. So it's my job to make sure she has all the love she ever needs, from me, as her son."

"I think that's touching." The more Levi elaborates on his tale, the more George feels his heart throbbing; to have a man feel so strongly towards his mother is something he rarely sees — especially being the same kind of person, himself. "I have the exact same relationship with my mother. She's perfection to me."

"You know George — I'll never understand anybody who can treat their mothers so poorly. Unless they're abusive, of course." Levi sighs gently, the concept seemingly foreign to him; although, feeling the conversation has become too intense, he changes the subject. "So, how's work life? You've never told me what you do."

"Trust me when I say — it's tedious." George leans his body against the small table that holds the phone. "It's just another office job. The same as every other Average Joe has—"

"You're hardly an Average Joe," Levi pipes up, intercepting George mid-speech. "You're more unique than you give yourself credit for. In fact, let's test it right now. Shall we?"

"How do you plan on doing that?" George challenges, perking up a little at the idea of playing a game.

"Well, have you ever played for the school football team?"

"Not a chance. I've never given a shit about sports."

"Okay — pretend you're wanting to watch a movie. What movie do you choose, and why?"

"E.T. hands down," George answers quickly. "Loved that since it came out. Four years ago now! I love the idea of some weird alien trying to make sense of our planet, and making friends with a kid. It's brilliant."

"Alright, and final question — what's your favourite colour?"

"I love the colour blue. Not because it's boyish as such, but because it's the colour of the sky." Unintentionally, he begins a small monologue about the wonder of it. "I've always found the sky so beautiful in its infinite state. We could travel for decades, and you'd still be in the sky ... somewhere. It just gets called 'space' once you hit a certain point. But it's all sky really, isn't it? And it just ranges from the light blue that we see in the day, to nearly black once it's night time. It's amazing, isn't it? We will never reach the end of the universe, and there's so much out there that we haven't seen; and won't ever see."

"You like space, huh?" Levi questions. It's sweet to him, hearing George speaking about something that interests him as much as this does. "You interested in stars, and planets?"

"I don't necessarily believe in astrology, but I do love watching the stars. And I think the idea of other planets existing alongside ours is fascinating. I could talk about it for hours, if you'd let me." George chuckles, feeling a little shy. "But that wasn't the point of the conversation. My favourite colour is blue."

"You see how unique you are?" Levi reaffirms his point from before. "Nobody else I know, would have given me the answers you did."

"Well, seeing as we're getting into the deep stuff — what about you?" George quizzes. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Really deep," Levi mocks; his light chuckle is muffled through the phone. "But I like red. Green is a close second."

"I couldn't really tell them apart," George responds. "I'm slightly red-green colourblind."

"See? You're definitely unique." Despite wanting to compliment George as much as he can, the curiosity does bring him to follow up on what has just been said. "So, how can you be slightly red-green colourblind, then?"

"They just aren't as vibrant in my eyes, as other people's eyes," George explains, sliding his tongue over his lips to moisten them a little. "It's not as though I view red as green; or green as red. It's just ... they aren't quite as visible to me. I'd wanted to be a pilot when I was younger, but I had to throw that idea down the drain of course. Red and green are pretty important colours for waving down planes and stuff."

To this, Levi expresses pure amusement. "You're so funny. You know that? I wish you could see my face right now. I'm so close to bursting into laughter."

"I couldn't even picture it if I wanted to," George reminds him. "I have no idea what you look like."

"That's true. But I also have no idea what you look like, either." Levi calms himself down, clearing his throat to pull himself together. "But maybe we could change that."

"Ah yes — let me just take a photograph of myself and get it developed. Then I'll send it to you in the post. It'll be there in a week," George jibes, before taking his bottom lip into his mouth; his weak attempt at holding his chuckles in.

"I don't mean like that. I'm saying, I need to meet you in person. We've spoken on the phone a few times now. I'm comfortable with you; you seem comfortable with me." Levi's plan is enough to fill George with nerves, and excitement. "Plus, I need to see if the face is worth my time. But hey — I wouldn't worry. I've never met an ugly gay man before."

"How many gay men have you met before?" George dares to ask. His eyes move down to the floor; his fingers toy with the telephone wire to dispel some of his pent-up feelings.

"None," Levi tells him honestly. "I only know myself."

"Wow. That's a pretty brash thing to say." George tries his best not to make it obvious that he finds this attitude humorous, but he seems to fail regardless.

"Hey — you should know by now, how hilarious I can be." He pauses a moment, deeming it appropriate to talk seriously now. "But I'm not messing around. I want to meet you, George. It would be nice to put a face to the name and the voice. Don't you think so?"

"I think you're a bit crazy," George corrects him. "We've only known each other exists for ... what? A few weeks, at the most? How do you know I'm worth your time?"

"You're a good guy, George. Troubled? Sure. But you're a good guy. I know it's hard keeping the secret of being gay from everyone around you." Levi's persuasive argument gradually brings George around, but he isn't done yet. "But at least if you meet me face-to-face, you'll know exactly who the person is, that you're divulging your life story to. Doesn't that sound even slightly logical?"

"I mean ... " He is reluctant. "How would it even work?"

"Well, either you come to Goring, or I come to London. Or, we find a middle ground."

"I wouldn't want to risk Steph seeing me with you," George evaluates hurriedly. "I'd have to come to Goring."

"Isn't it funny?" Levi starts, cackling at an unspoken irony. "A few phone calls back, you said you'd pass on ever coming to Goring."

"Well, that was when I'd never even really spoken to you before," George justifies himself. "But now I know you better, I guess ... I'm willing to risk coming. What do I have to lose?"

"I knew you'd see things my way. So, when are you free to come?" He wouldn't admit it, but Levi is incredibly enthusiastic about this meeting.

"I have a day off from work on Wednesday. I could tell Steph that they called me in; then I'd have a reason to leave and be gone all day." As he says this, George can't help but feel a little guilty at what he's doing; he knows there's nothing inherently wrong with it, but he feels as though he must sneak around when it comes to Levi.

"Sounds like a plan. Are you coming by car, or by train?"

"I'll take the train. I don't fancy driving somewhere I've never visited before. Then that way, you can meet me at the train station." The more they form their plan, the more he does begin to feel excited about this adventure he will be embarking on. "Is it called Goring Station?"

"Goring and Streatley," Levi informs him. "Because Goring is literally next door to Streatley. They may as well share a station."

"Fair." With a slightly-anxious breath, he nods in spite of Levi not seeing. "I guess that's settled then. I'll take whichever train it is, that gets me to you for ... say, 10AM?"

"Early bird. I like it." Levi laughs again. "I guess I'll see you bright and early on Wednesday, Georgios."

"Have you been practicing saying my name?" George is surprised at the flawless pronunciation. "You got it right."

"I may have rehearsed a little. But it's nothing. Go and enjoy your evening, now. I'll talk to you soon."

"Alright. Thanks for the chat," George responds. "Bye for now."

"Later, George." The line goes dead, leaving the prolonged beep in George's ear.

He sets the phone down on the receiver once again, before re-entering the living room; here, he finds the magazine from earlier. With a bashful, yet cheeky smile, he picks up the bundle of pages; he heads up to his room, to look back through all the appeasing images of the men he spotted earlier. And he does this, with his mind preoccupied with the conversation he has just taken part in.

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Woohoo! They're going to meet! What will happen next? xx