“So… exactly how many high school fantasies are we fulfilling right now?” Paul asks as I tune my bass guitar, and I can’t help but smirk as I can already guess how the impending argument will go.

“Bit inappropriate to ask about MY high school fantasies, but I’ll let it slide,” Stuart replies, and I sense my opportunity to chip in.

“If it helps, Paul, I’m wondering the same thing,” I say, chuckling at the mock-offended look on my mentor’s face.

“…Okay, yes, every music student dreams of playing in a garage band in an actual garage,” Stuart concedes.

“Can confirm,” Mikey interjects with a smug grin as he passes around headphones for all of us. “Even if someone’s wife has banned us from using amplifiers. And by ‘someone’s wife’ I mean ‘everyone’s wives and girlfriends.’ ”

“Krys still struggling with morning sickness, then?” Stuart asks, earning a grin from his best friend.

“Think she's just about over the worst of it,” Mikey replies. “Still got a long six months ahead of us, heh.”

“I suppose that is worse than having to justify to your wife the purchase of an electronic drum kit,” Jonathan grumbles as he pulls on his headphones. “Though at least it means Destiny doesn’t randomly play with the real thing anymore, heh!”

“Four year olds and music instruments are either the perfect mix or the perfect storm,” Stuart chuckles. “Thank god Olivia’s actually interested in learning, instead of just making a noise.”

“Speaking of the little lady,” Paul says, “where is she today? And the — well, just ‘lady’ of the house, too?”

“Taking advantage of the Summer weather, same as us,” Stuart replies. “Socially distanced playdate in Mary’s back garden.”

“Just ‘cause Viks, Mary and Krys aren’t technically Angels anymore, it doesn’t mean they’re not best friends,” Jonathan explains. “Especially not as our kids are just as close as their mums are, if not closer!”

“What about our bassist’s groupie, then?” Paul asks, smirking as I roll my eyes.

“Working from home,” I explain.

“On a Saturday?” Paul asks incredulously.

“She wants to get ahead of her work before taking leave next week,” I reply. “For her birthday on Thursday, obviously. She’s still a bit down that she can’t go back to Canada yet.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Mikey sighs. “Kinda feel a bit guilty that I’m complaining about not being able to go on holiday when there are people still trapped quote-unquote abroad.”

“Yep,” I sigh sadly, which prompts my mentor to play a stealthy hand on my shoulder.

“Hey,” Stuart whispers so the others can’t hear, “is everything okay? With you and Leanne, and, like, in general?”

“Honestly?” I reply, before grinning widely. “It’s never been better.”

And it truly hasn’t. The decision to completely cut Chloe out of my life has been one of the best things I ever did for my mental health, along with cutting my mother out of my life and, well, becoming ‘Ian’ in the first place. Without Angela constantly looming over my life like a dark cloud, for the first time in ages — possibly even ever — I actually feel free to focus all my energy on doing the thing I love, and more importantly, being with the people I love.

Despite our work and university commitments ramping up as summer approaches, Leanne and I have resolved to spend as much time together as possible, whether that’s in the flesh or on either side of a Zoom call. With Covid restrictions easing, though, the former is becoming more common — as are days such as today when I can hang out with the Celestials. While keeping up with my studies still creates pressure, and my finances are being pressured as my side income of helping my grandmother’s friends with their IT is drying up as lockdown is slowly lifted, this ‘pressure’ is not translating into ‘stress.’ Obviously, this is good, and not just for my mental health, as the pressure on hospitals easing means they’re more likely to schedule non-Covid related appointments, and I have a set of reproductive organs in my abdomen that I want gone as soon as possible….

“My — my ‘stomach’ is kinda feeling a bit, you know, dodgy, though,” I say, trying not to blush as the only man I know who would understand what I mean by ‘stomach’ smiles sympathetically.

“Bad?” Stuart asks, smirking as I shrug.

“Had worse,” I reply. “Fresh air’s helping. As is not singing, heh!”

“You’re a left-handed bassist from the West of the country named ‘Ian,’ ” Mikey interjects. “Technically, that makes you perfect for this song. Also, you’re Welsh, so genetically you’re a better than average singer anyway.”

“And you’re a long-haired, tall, bearded guy from Nottingham,” I retort. “Doesn’t make you Little John, does it?”

“Not as far as you’re concerned,” Mikey says, eliciting a chuckle from me as we get ready for our first song. “Okay, let’s focus on the notes and not the volume, we want Stuart to still be able to sleep here tonight, after all.”

“Admittedly not easy with a song that grabs you by the b- umm, by the throat from note one and doesn’t let go for the rest of the song,” Jonathan says, trying not to blush as Stuart and I glance his way, despite Stuart technically possessing the body part Jonathan barely avoided saying. “Everyone ready?”

“Yep,” Stuart replies. “Riley, you can wake up now.”

“How — how exactly did I agree to spend my Saturday doing this?” Riley asks as he rises from his deckchair on the driveway and gets his phone ready to take photos and videos of us.

“Because your fiancée — my sister, more importantly — is busy doing promotional work for her new TV show,” Stuart replies. “And HT’s in-house photographer threatened to smash our guitars over our heads if Jonathan mandated that she did this as well, given that she's also busy with the aftermath of 'So You Want to Be an Angel.' ”

“And you’ve met Katie, you know that is NOT an idle threat,” Jonathan chuckles.

“No it isn't,” Riley concedes with a snort. “It's not like I'm any LESS busy, though….”

“Say 'no, I'm too busy' next time, then,” Jonathan retorts with a shrug as he picks up his drumsticks. “Everyone ready? One, two, three, four….” I brace myself for the impact of the music as Stuart’s guitar begins blaring, followed by Jonathan’s drums and finally mine and Mikey’s guitars.

“If you like to gamble, I tell you I’m your man,” Paul bellows into his microphone as Riley films and photographs us.
“You win some, lose some, it’s all the same to me…”

Even though the song is less than three minutes long, the energy of the song, combined with the heat of the day, leaves a fine sheen of sweat on all of us once the music ends, though fortunately Stuart is quickly on hand with a cool box full of drinks.

“Cheers,” I say breathlessly as I open an ice-cold bottle of beer and take a swig. “Never been a big fan of Summer, I haven’t.”

“Is that just ‘cause it’s six months until your birthday?” Stuart teases, laughing as I roll my eyes.

“And is that why you’re not coming on Wednesday?” Paul asks, making me frown with confusion.

“What’s happening on Wednesday?” I ask, frowning as the rest of the band all fidget. “…Guys?”

“So you- you didn’t tell him?” Paul asks.

“Tell me what?” I plead, getting increasingly frustrated by the band’s — or rather, my friends’ — silence. “…Guys?”

“We — we kinda have, like, a gig on Wednesday,” Stuart mumbles in reply. “It’s kinda an open-air thing, late afternoon, around 5pm in a park, for people leaving work or who stuck around after the Germany match.” Naturally, the thought of performing in front of a crowd — especially at such short notice — starts to fill me with anxiety, but weirdly, I find myself feeling more angry than anxious. Not angry at being given short notice, but rather angry because my friends — my FRIENDS — clearly didn’t tell me because they don’t want me to go along, obviously thinking that by not telling me, they’ll be somehow 'sparing' me. I suppose I should be grateful — now that I know, my choices are either 'go, and feel anxious the whole day' or 'don't go, and let my friends down,' but yet again, a decision has been made for me without even asking me first what I want.

“…Okay,” I say stoically as I try to rationalise what exactly it is that I’m feeling right now. Did Stuart and the others really think they were doing me a favour by not telling me? Are they actually doing me a favour by not telling me, and I just don’t realise it? Even worse, do I actually want to get up on stage and play in front of a crowd, regardless of how big or small that crowd’s likely to be? No one’s going to be looking at the bassist, after all….

“We — we didn’t want you to feel, you know, obliged to play the gig,” Stuart explains. “I know you don’t like to let people down, and-”

“No, no, I get it,” I interrupt. “It’s cool. I’m cool, I mean, with it, the whole thing.”

“A- are you sure?” Stuart asks, biting his lip as I nod and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I — ugh. I didn’t want you to find out like this, ‘cause — umm, yeah….”

“Well I was always gonna find out eventually,” I retort. “I AM tagged in everything the Celestials upload to social media, and there’s bound to be people at the gig filming it with their phones, right?”

“Well — yeah, I suppose,” Stuart says, scratching his head awkwardly as he tries to think of what to say next.

“I can — I can always, you know, not tag you on social media posts,” Riley — who manages social media for both Heavenly Talent and the Celestials — suggests with a nonchalant shrug, though all this offer does is scramble my emotions even more.

“Right, so am I actually being kicked out of the band by someone not even in it, then?” I snarl, biting my lip as Riley scowls at me.

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you fucking well know it,” the tall blond man snaps, raising my blood pressure even further.

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t know!” I shout — which, unsurprisingly, doesn’t help matters.

“Or what?” Riley asks, before squaring up to me. Even though he’s tall, he’s also skinny as a rake and — according to his brother, at least — about as much use in a fight as a dollop of mashed potato, so if he REALLY wants to do this, it’s his funeral….

“GUYS!” Mikey — usually the most easy-going guy in the world — suddenly shouts, standing between me and my opponent. “Not the time, okay? It — it's hot, everyone's still sweaty and adrenaline-filled after the song, so let's chalk this up to that, okay? Sh- just shake hands and forget about it.” Reluctantly, I extend my right hand, which Riley equally reluctantly shakes. I sigh as the handshake breaks, before taking my guitar off my shoulder, bending over to hang it on Stuart's guitar tree when all of a sudden, I feel something bump against my backside.

Time seems to freeze as I process what just happened. There was nothing behind me to bump in to, no instruments, even, so something must have moved toward me, rather than the other way round, and the size and shape could only have been a shoe. Something — or someone — just kicked me in the backside.

He. Just. Kicked. Me.

“RILE-“ Stuart yells, but before he can even get his second syllable out, I’ve spun round and thrown my left fist into Riley’s abdomen as hard as I can, making the taller man drop to the ground, gasping for air.

“ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY NOW!?” I yell as the tall man groans on the floor.

“IAN!” Stuart shouts, before grabbing his car keys from his pocket and pressing the ‘unlock’ button. “Wait in my car. Please — please go and wait in my car.” With my cheeks flushing in shame — and Riley still moaning on the floor — I simply nod and slink out of the garage, sitting down in the passenger seat of my mentor’s car and trying not to cry as the adrenaline slowly leaves my body.

A short while later, the rear door of the car opens, my mentor carefully placing my bass guitar and my treasured leather jacket on the rear seat before handing me a facemask, donning one himself and getting into the driver’s seat.

“Nothing personal,” Stuart says behind his mask, “it’s just I’ve got a young family, and better safe than sorry.”

“No offence taken,” I say, before letting out a long sigh. “So… am I out of the band, then?” I bite my lip as my mentor pauses to consider his response.

“…Do you want to be?” Stuart asks, not in an accusatory way, but — as has always been the case — with a tone of genuine concern for me and my well-being.

“Well — no,” I reply. “I mean, I- I do enjoy, like, hanging out, playing guitar with you guys…”

“But there — there’s a big difference between playing in a garage and playing in front of a crowd,” Stuart muses. “Hell, music has literally been my life for the last fifteen years and even I still sometimes get nervous, heh.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it, playing in front of a crowd?” I ask with a feeble voice.

“I thought you shouldn't be asked to handle it,” Stuart replies, before sighing. “Ian, what you — what your parents put you through as a child, I- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“…When you compare it to what some other kids have to go through, though, it-“ I mumble, only for my mentor to cut me off.

“Ne- never mind what other kids go through,” Stuart interrupts. “Your parents gave you sixteen years of shit from the very second you were born. Even the strongest person — which, for the record, you’re a real candidate for — would struggle under the circumstances. Ian… I- I genuinely think your childhood gave you PTSD.” Stuart sighs sadly as I snort at his suggestion. “I’m serious, mate. You had sixteen straight years of the worst kind of ‘stage mom’ and a father who was worse than useless. On top of that, you told me that they constantly fought and didn’t give the blindest bit of notice to your mental health. And as if that wasn’t enough, you had to go through your entire childhood being forced to present as a gender that you weren’t, without any say in the matter.”

“Like you didn’t give me any say in whether or not I could play at the gig?” I ask, silencing the older man and, much to my surprise, almost bringing a tear to his eye.

“…Like I said, if I’d asked, you’d have felt obliged to say ‘yes,’ ” Stuart retorts. “You — you can’t help putting other people’s needs before your own. Don't try to deny it, I've known you far too long to convince me otherwise. Hell, you'd even put other people’s ‘wants’ before your needs. Believe me, we tried to get the park to give us the day after, then at least you’d have had an excuse to blow us off.”

“Leanne’s birthday,” I say.

“Exactly,” Stuart says. “Would’ve given us, like ‘plausible deniability’ or something, I dunno. But my point stands. We didn’t want to put you in a position where — well, we didn’t want to put you in a position where you’d have felt you had to put yourself in a difficult position, if that makes sense.”

“A bit, I guess,” I sigh. “But all your talk of me putting myself in difficult positions is one thing. It’s never having any say in things that’s the real trigger for me, as you well know.”

“…Yeah, I know,” Stuart sighs. “We really did have to decide on what was the lesser of two evils.”

“Well, you — you may have got it wrong,” I say, piquing my mentor’s interest. “How many videos have I been in now for the Celestials? Four? Each one has thousands of views on YouTube.”

“Well — true,” Stuart concedes.

“And I haven’t had any contact from my mother about any of them,” I say. “She may have actually finally got the message that it’s my life, not hers. My choice, not hers.”

“And your choice, not ours?” Stuart asks.

“…Well, if we are a band, it should be ‘our’ choice,” I reply. “Not mine or yours individually, if that makes sense.”

“I get that, yep,” Stuart says, clearly smiling behind his mask.

“I probably should choose to apologise to Riley too, heh,” I sigh.

“It’d help, but he owes you an apology too,” Stuart says. “He’s always been a — heh.” I frown with confusion as my mentor chuckles. “I was about to say bellend, but that’s probably not the most appropriate insult to use here, heh.”

“Probably not,” I chuckle.

“I still dunno what my sister sees in him,” Stuart muses. “But I’ll talk to him next time we’re in the office together, let him know that what he did isn’t okay either. Probably best if the two of you give each other some — heh. Some distance, even beyond the two metres we’re obliged to right now.”

“Good idea,” I say, sighing as the car pulls up outside my flat. “Th- thanks for the lift home, and sorry if I ruined your jam session.”

“No, I’m the one who screwed it up,” Stuart sighs. “I should’ve known you’d learn about the gig sooner or later and I should’ve prepared for it better too. Won’t make that mistake again. Heh, if we even get any future gigs, anyway.”

“I was going to ask, who’ll be playing bass if I’m not there?” I ask.

“Me,” Stuart bluntly replies. “We’re picking songs with little or no rhythm guitar sections, and I can play bass just as well as ‘regular’ guitar, so — yeah. It’s no biggie.”

“Well, either way, I — I’ll have a think about it and let you know,” I say, exchanging a fist bump with my mentor before exiting the car, grabbing my jacket and guitar and heading back into my flat, where the sound of typing lets me know that my girlfriend is still hard at work. The sound of typing abruptly stops, though, and is replaced by a quiet yelp when I drop my stuff on the sofa.

“H- hey, Ian,” Leanne says, startled but also clearly concerned by my early return. “I wasn’t expecting you back for hours, is — is everything okay?”

“…Kind of,” I sigh, before giving my girlfriend a kiss and dropping down onto the sofa opposite her workstation. “Had a bit of a — ugh. A bit of a ‘disagreement’ with Riley, Heavenly Talent’s social media guy.”

“The skinny guy with the scruffy blond hair?” Leanne asks, frowning as I nod. “Did you — did you get into a fight with him?” I bite my lip as I consider my response — despite her stereotypically Canadian love of ice hockey, her ex-boyfriend actually being an NHL player and she herself playing rugby when she was in high school, Leanne has a very low tolerance for violence of any kind.

“There was an ‘exchange,’ ” I reply, biting my lip as my girlfriend frowns. “Just a quick one, nothing, like, too personal….”

“Are you alright?” Leanne asks softly, rising from her desk and giving me a gentle hug.

“Physically, yeah,” I sigh as I wrap an arm around my girlfriend’s shoulders and she leans into me even more. “My pride is kinda hurting right now, though….”

“…Did you lose the fight?” Leanne asks, still frowning as I shake my head.

“No,” I sigh. “It- it’s just stupid ‘guy stuff,’ nothing you need to worry about.”

“Okay, well, I assume the misogyny was unintentional,” Leanne says, eliciting a confused frown from me. “And that you of all people would never use or even think the phrase ‘nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.’ ”

“…I genuinely wasn’t thinking that,” I mumble as I try not to blush — she does have a point, I could've worded that much better.

“I believe you,” Leanne says with a smile. “But you can share ‘stupid guy stuff’ with me, you know. You’ve got no problem with me sharing ‘stupid and not-so-stupid girl stuff’ with you when, if anything, it should be even more triggering for you, right?”

“Well — yeah,” I say. “But I’m okay with you doing that ‘cause it’s, well, you.”

“And I’m okay with you doing this because, well, it’s you,” Leanne retorts, smiling as I chuckle and sigh.

“I really hit the jackpot when your cousins set me up with you,” I say, punctuating my compliment with a kiss.

“Yeah, we both did,” Leanne giggles. “Even if you can be a bit of a meathead at times. And keep me away from my work!”

“Ah — sorry,” I chuckle as Leanne unwraps herself from around me and sits back down at her workstation. “Have you got much left to do?”

“Not much,” my girlfriend replies. “Should be done in maybe half an hour. Then I was planning on calling my parents, if that’s okay?”

“No reason it shouldn’t be,” I reply, sharing a smile with the blonde-haired woman.

“What was the fight about, anyway?” Leanne asks. “If — if you don’t me asking, anyway?”

“Ugh, it — it’s just a silly thing,” I sigh. “The band have — they’ve got a gig, this coming Wednesday, and they — they didn’t tell me as they didn’t want me to feel stressed out, like, obliged into going, sort of thing.”

“…How did that end up with you fighting Riley?” Leanne asks. “Is he even in the band?”

“Well, one thing — one thing kinda led to another, and — yeah,” I reply.

“Are you going to play the gig?” Leanne asks, making me pause — that is the big question, after all.

“I — I don’t know,” I reply.

“Do you want to?” Leanne asks.

“I — I don’t want to let the band down,” I reply. “Stuart’s said he doesn’t mind filling in for me, but he — he also kinda hinted that if I wasn’t there, they wouldn’t be able to play all the songs they wanted to, so — yeah.”

“But do YOU want to play the gig?” Leanne asks.

“…Well it’s not about what I want,” I mumble. “I have to think of the band, you know?”

“It sounds like Stuart already has,” Leanne retorts, and as hard as I think, I have no answer for her.

“I’d feel guilty if I let the band down,” I mumble feebly. “I’d feel selfish — I would BE selfish for not putting them before me.” I bite my lip and try not to cry again as Leanne looks up from her workstation before immediately abandoning her laptop, sitting down next to me and wrapping her arms around me.

“Ian…” my girlfriend says softly. “This — this isn’t you. I mean, this isn’t you talking. How can you say these things when you’re one of the most selfless people I know?”

“Heh, try telling that to my so-called ‘parents,’ ” I mumble, tears welling in my eyes as Leanne’s mood immediately darkens.

“…You know, it’s a good job I’ve never met your mom and dad,” Leanne snarls. “Grievous bodily harm is still grounds to deport someone, isn’t it?” I can’t help but smirk — clearly Leanne’s ‘no violence’ policy has its limits after all.

“Best not to test it,” I snort. “And God knows there are times I — ugh.”

“You don’t — you don’t have to go on, if you don’t want to,” Leanne whispers softly. “But I get the feeling that you probably need to.”

“…Every time, every damn time I was in some kind of audition, or dance recital, or gymnastics competition,” I moan. “Hell, even if I didn’t give 100% in a class, my mum would jump down my throat, ask me if it made me happy wasting all of their money on these things I didn’t want to do in the first place. Then she’d get one of her bogus migraines and I’d feel guilty for the whole of the next week. Hell, even when I was ill myself, I got no sympathy. One time when I was fourteen, I — well, you can infer what was the problem when I say ‘I was fourteen,’ heh.”

“Yep,” Leanne says with a sad sigh.

“I was fourteen, it was my gymnastics club meet, and- well, yeah,” I sigh. “I had the absolute worst abdominal pain to the point I could barely walk, let alone tumble and so forth. But my mum sneered at me and emotionally blackmailed me until I did anyway. Long story short, I actually ended up throwing up from the pain, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, my — well, let’s just say my leotard had to be ‘extra cleaned’ around the crotch area afterwards.”

“Jeez,” Leanne said, a look of pure horror on her face. “Surely your mum had SOME sympathy for you?”

“You’d have thought,” I snort. “But nope, I got told how much it’d cost to dry-clean the leotard, how much I’d ‘decided’ to fall behind the rest of the class, and then my mum got one of her bogus migraines that wouldn’t let up until I basically grovelled and asked her to forgive me.”

“How one woman can do that to another, let alone your own daughter, it just — ugh,” Leanne spits angrily. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Ian. Do you have any good memories of your parents growing up?”

“Just one,” I sigh. “I’d been in, I think, a tap-dancing competition or something, and by some miracle I actually won it. So mum, in a rare moment of actual pride, told me I could go and see any movie I wanted to see. Madagascar 2 had just come out, and while it wasn’t quite what mum had in mind — she honestly thought that eight-year-old me would want to see the Devil Wears Prada or something — we went to the cinema together and actually both really enjoyed the movie.”

“Is that — is that why you love your plush giraffe so much?” Leanne asks.

“Kinda, yeah,” I chuckle. “But- ugh, I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from your work, and-”

“Work can wait,” Leanne interrupts. “You need me right now.”

“But you — don’t you want to get the work done before you go on leave?” I ask.

“Screw it,” Leanne says nonchalantly. “Right now, you need me more. And it is NOT selfish or ‘weak’ to accept the help of others when you really need it, whether you’re a man, a boy, a woman, a girl, non-binary or any gender. Nor is it selfish to say ‘no’ to people when you’re having difficulty. Demanding that someone drops whatever they’re doing to tend to your every whim immediately and without complaint? THAT’s pure selfishness.”

“…Kinda sounds like you have a few stories of your own to tell,” I say with a shy chuckle as Leanne snuggles into me again.

“I think everyone kinda does from their childhood,” Leanne chuckles. “But, well, we’re both adults now, heh.”

“Someone’s even turning 23 in a few days,” I remind my girlfriend, who replies by tightening her hold on me.

“And no one I’d rather turn 23 with,” Leanne whispers, punctuating her compliment with a gentle kiss. “Even if I would rather be in Montreal. Heh, I’d rather us BOTH be in Montreal. I — I love you, Ian.”

“I love you too,” I whisper, giving the blonde-haired woman a gentle kiss on her forehead as we recline on the sofa for the next hour, not talking, but not needing to talk, simply enjoying each other’s company. Never before have I ever felt as relaxed, as content as I do right now.

My relaxed mood remains for the rest of the day — not even Denmark pummelling Wales 4-0 to eliminate us from the European Football Championship later that evening sours the atmosphere in the flat. Okay, maybe it does a little, given that Lee doesn't say anything for the rest of the evening, but I still go to bed with a smile on my face — not least because of the beautiful woman who climbs into bed next to me.

Unsurprisingly, the Sun is already high in the sky when we both wake up the following morning, partly because it’s late June when the days are at their longest, but mostly because it’s Sunday, and neither of us have anywhere else to be today. However, the sound of the front door opening — followed by large packages being dropped in the entranceway — piques our curiosity.

“…Do you guys normally have groceries delivered at this time on a Sunday?” Leanne asks as she stirs.

“Not in all the time I’ve lived here,” I say. “Unless Lee took last night REALLY badly and has been ‘comfort buying’ again….”

“Hey, Lee!” Leanne suddenly shouts, catching me by surprise and making me chuckle. “Buy anything good?”

“If you guys could give me half an hour, then get up,” Lee requests. “Should have everything sorted by then.”

“…You heard the man,” I say, wrapping my arms around my girlfriend and settling us back down into our cool sheets.

We quickly drift off to sleep again, but are rudely woken a few minutes later by more thumping — though this time it’s coming from our bedroom door.

“Come and look what I’ve done!” Lee yells, sounding especially smug as Leanne and I pull on our lightweight dressing gowns before opening the door and gasping in shock at the sight that greets us.

Hanging from our living room walls and our bookshelves are drapes with a ‘dungeon’ theme printed on them, including brick walls and iron bars. Our coffee table has been covered in a cloth that’s printed in such a way that it looks like parchment, and our usual knick-knacks have been replaced with notepads, dice and an elaborate-looking game board. And standing in the middle of the room is Lee, wearing a cape and a smug smile — though that latter point is easily the least surprising part of the image.

“You like?” Lee asks as he gestures to his handiwork.

“What- what is all this?” I ask.

“This, fy ffrind, is going to be our evening entertainment,” Lee replies. “Hopefully at least twice a week when lockdown is a little more ‘unlocked.’ ”

“Are you really telling me that YOU’VE never played D&D before?” Leanne asks as the penny finally drops.

“We never really did in Cardiff,” I reply with a shrug.

“I used to play it with Neil, Rob and his brother,” Lee explains. “Rob’s dad was our dungeon master, but over time we switched to playing things like X-Wing instead. That was before Ian joined the ‘cool gang,’ heh. Have you played before, Leanne?”

“I wish,” my girlfriend replies with a sad chuckle. “Never really had anyone to play it with, like, none of my friends in Montreal would’ve been remotely interested in this, heh.”

“Well, now you do have someone to play with,” Lee says with a warm smile. “Simon — that’s Rob’s brother — and two of his friends are studying in London, so that makes six. And hopefully rule of six will be scrapped soon, so Ian, you can invite Ben if you want?”

“Umm… sure,” I reply uncertainly as I can’t help but dwell on the obvious flaw in my best friend’s plan. “Except for the fact that the school year is basically already over, Simon will be going back to Cardiff over the summer, and you’ll be going back to Cardiff too and won’t be coming back to London as you’ll be doing your PhD elsewhere. Plus it’s, well, summer. Now that we’re finally being not locked down… though admittedly this is Simon we’re talking about, so — yeah.”

“I don’t think I’ve met Simon,” Leanne muses. “Is he a bit of a basement dweller? Actually, I haven’t met any of you guys’ Cardiff friends yet.”

“Simon’s okay, actually,” I reply with a shrug. “And you’d like Neil and Rob, too.”

“Simon’s not so much a ‘basement dweller’ as someone who only really had a ‘basement’ to grow up in, if that makes sense,” Lee interjects. “Basically — you see how one wall of our living room is basically shelving that’s full of games and other junk?”

“Kinda hard to miss it, really,” Leanne replies, smirking as Lee and I roll our eyes.

“Well, imagine an eighteen by eleven-foot room,” Lee says, “filled with shelves on every wall containing videogames, board games, wargaming miniatures, sci-fi and fantasy DVDs, Fighting Fantasy books, comic books and all manner of trinkets. Even glass display cabinets for the really expensive stuff. And a table in the middle to play it all on. That’s basically Rob’s dad’s ‘man cave,’ and where Rob and Simon spent most of their time as kids.”

“…Okay, now THAT sounds cool,” Leanne gushes. “And I’ve seen you guys play X-Wing, the games you played in that room must’ve been insane.”

“I think the longest one we played lasted four hours,” I say, letting out a satisfied laugh at the memory. “And if I remember rightly, later that evening I called my mum and told her that ‘Kayleigh-Ann’ had been in a dress rehearsal for a musical play all evening.”

“Good times,” Lee says as we share a knowing chuckle that my girlfriend joins in with. “And if it’s the game I’m thinking of, it was Star Wars Armada, not X-Wing. But they’re close enough, I suppose. But! As fun as those game nights were, D&D nights will be even better, and yes, Ian, I know that our chances to have those nights will be kinda ‘limited.’ But if something’s worth doing, you do it, no matter if you do it once or a hundred times.” Like playing in a gig with your bandmates? I suddenly find myself thinking.

“It’s a lot of money and effort for ‘once,’ though,” Leanne says.

“Not if we all have fun,” Lee retorts — a point my girlfriend is forced to concede. “I’ll be the DM, obviously, and I’ve already had ideas for fun quests to get everyone started even if, I admit, any long questlines might not be possible given our ‘residential circumstances.’ ”

“Well, you can definitely count me in,” Leanne says, flashing me a sympathetic smile — she clearly wanted to agree for both of us, but knew, following our conversation yesterday, how triggering that would’ve been for me. “When’s the first meet-up?”

“According to Simon, his best nights are Sundays and Wednesdays,” Lee replies as I suddenly pause. Surely — surely he doesn’t know, right? How could he know about the gig? Okay, so the band members have promoted it on their personal and public Facebook pages, but Lee’s been too busy with his uni work to check up on them. Well, too busy on uni work and buying D&D equipment, anyway.

“So are we starting tonight?” Leanne asks.

“Only if you’re both okay with that,” Lee says, also smiling at me to let me know that I’m under no pressure to accept, that the choice to play is mine and mine alone. “I would’ve let you know a bit earlier but I only finalised the details with Simon last night and I was waiting for all of this to arrive first.”

“So this isn’t a knee-jerk reaction to the Denmark game, then?” I ask, smirking as my friend snorts with laughter despite my own disappointment at Wales’s defeat last night.

“…That’s arriving tomorrow,” Lee says gloomily. “Anyway, no pressure about tonight, but if you could let me know by lunchtime, then I’ll arrange everything with Simon and his friends. In the meantime, I need to head out for a bit.”

“On — on Sunday morning, literally after unpacking a huge delivery?” I ask.

“That didn’t include any paints,” Lee retorts, smirking as he exchanges his cape for a lightweight summer jacket and heads out, leaving me and my girlfriend alone in the flat.

“…Well that was an unexpected way to start my Sunday,” Leanne muses as she plops down onto our sofa. “The game really does sound fun, though. I always wished I’d had more, you know, ‘geeky’ friends in Montreal. Your friend’s father’s game room sounds amazing as well.”

“It was definitely a change after sixteen years of being force-fed Kardashians and The Only Way Is Essex for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” I say, earning a genuine laugh from my girlfriend.

“Yeah, if you don’t me stealing the metaphor, then just the sound of that makes me want to get my stomach pumped,” Leanne snorts. “But — but Lee did say ‘Wednesday,’ didn’t he?”

“That’s what I heard too,” I sigh as I sit down, smiling as Leanne wraps her arms around me.

“But — but now you have, you know, an ‘out,’ ” Leanne says. “Unless — unless you want to play the gig?”

“…It’s not so much that I want to play the gig,” I reply, “it’s more that I really don’t want to let my friends down. This way, no matter what, I’m going to be letting someone down, whether it’s Lee or Stuart. Heh, my two best friends ever going head-to-head like that, great.”

“Well,” Leanne muses, “if they really are your best friends ever — and I know both of them, and they totally are — then surely they’d be understanding if you had a conflict like this, and would be okay with you, well, choosing the other option. And again, I’ve known both Lee and Stuart for months, and I know they totally would be okay with it.”

“…Yeah, okay, you’re right,” I sigh. “And — yeah. If given the choice, I would rather play D&D with you, Lee and Simon. But — but — ugh. I’ve hated performing my whole life, you know that. It’s kinda grown into a phobia, and I — yeah. There’s a part of me that, like, feels I really need to, well, beat that phobia if I’m gonna be a-”

“ ‘Be a man?’ ” Leanne interrupts, smiling and sighing as I blush and nod. “Seriously, is testosterone just another word for ‘idiot juice?’ ” My girlfriend smiles sympathetically as my blush turns into a frown. “Ian, it’s not ‘unmanly’ to have likes and dislikes. I once heard a story about a big-name wrestler with the WWE who gets freaked out and throws up at the sight of a cucumber, for God’s sake. And your ‘phobia’ is hardly trivial. But look at what you’ve done, how much you’ve accomplished. Look at the man you are, even if you don’t perform on stage. Look at all the friends you have. Heh, and…” I smirk as Leanne takes her phone out of her dressing gown and shows me the photograph that I took in April. “Look what you made ME dress up in. There’s literally no other man, EVER, who could make me do that, hehe!”

“…Sorry?” I say with a playful pout that makes my girlfriend giggle and give me a gentle kiss.

“I can totally see why Jeri Ryan wanted to burn that thing when Voyager ended,” Leanne snorts.

“Yeah, you’re kinda preaching to the choir when it comes to wanting to burn things you were forced to wear,” I say, sighing as Leanne tightens her hold on me.

“Call Stuart,” Leanne says softly. “When you’re ready. He’ll understand.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, sharing another cuddle with my girlfriend as we relax on the sofa and enjoy the stillness of the summery Sunday morning.

Eventually, though, we rise from the sofa, showering together (to ‘save water,’ of course) before getting breakfast ready just as Lee returns with his gaming supplies. After breakfast, we spend a fun morning painting our miniatures, including my Bruce Lee-esque monk character, though not before telling Lee that we are unequivocally ‘in’ for the gaming session. After a quick lunch, I let out a sigh as I realise I have one task left — and despite Leanne’s reassurances, I still feel anxious as I press the ‘call’ button on my phone.

“Hey Ian!” Stuart says, answering the phone after the second ring. “I was going to call you, actually, I’ve kinda talked to Riley about yesterday and he’s agreed to bury the hatchet, whenever’s convenient for you.”

“Thanks,” I say softly. “I- umm, I was calling to say, like, that- Wednesday isn’t, like, going to be convenient for me after all. Something’s kinda come up, and-”

“Honestly, don’t worry about it,” Stuart interrupts. “I’m sorry I put you on the spot with the gig in the first place, and you’ll be happy to hear that when I told Jamie what happened, she gave me a MASSIVE bollocking.”

“…That doesn’t make me THAT happy,” I retort.

“In fairness, I didn’t actually think it would,” Stuart chuckles. “But honestly, don’t worry about the gig. At all. And in future I’ll run anything like that before the whole band before making any decisions on anyone else’s behalf. That good for you?”

“Sounds perfect,” I reply with a smile. “As for Riley, I can try to come down to HT on Wednesday morning, it’s just — it’s just the afternoon and evening when I’m busy.”

“…Okay, now I’m curious,” Stuart says with a tired laugh. “Feel free to tell me to mind my own business, especially if it’s a birthday eve date with Leanne, but what’s got you so busy on Wednesday?”

“Lee, he — he’s kinda started a group Dungeons & Dragons game,” I reply. “Me, Leanne, one of my friends from Cardiff and a couple of his friends are all going to play, twice a week throughout summer, Covid permitting.”

“Okay,” Stuart says, before allowing himself a quiet giggle. “Honestly, that’s absolutely fine, and a part of me kinda also wants to blow off the gig for that, heh.”

“Sadly, rule of six…” I say teasingly.

“Yes, yes, okay,” Stuart chuckles. “But honestly, don’t worry yourself about it. Have fun slaying your orcs, heh. Just — just don’t accidentally call them ‘norcs.’ Another joke only me and you are allowed to laugh about!”

“If it was funny, maybe,” I retort, smirking as I trace the faint outline of the mastectomy scar on my chest.

“…Fine,” Stuart grumbles, before laughing again. “I’ll see you Wednesday morning, then. Take care of yourself, okay? And have fun!”

“Thanks,” I say, before smiling contentedly as the call ends.

The following Wednesday, I went to the Heavenly Talent offices where, much to my surprise, I was greeted like an old friend despite having not been signed to them in over a year. Much to my even greater surprise, when I went into the social media room, Riley also greeted me like an old friend, appearing genuinely contrite as we shook hands and exchanged apologies. Later that evening, Stuart and his band — or rather, our band — played the gig in front of a small, yet energetic audience (that seemed to be really into the music according to the video that Stuart sent me). And while there was a part of me that wanted to be on stage with the rest of the band, a much larger part of me was happier to be where I was, among friends and loved ones embarking on the adventure that Lee had prepared for us.

And, of course, I was happiest of all the following day when I celebrated the 23rd anniversary of the birth of the woman I adore. For the first time in a long time, everything in my life seemed to be alright. I had a great girlfriend, genuine friends who liked me for who I was, I was on top of my university work and even Covid restrictions seemed to be coming to an end. For the first time in a very long time, I went into the summer with a renewed sense of optimism, though I knew that my third year of university would be the hardest of them all, and there would always be new challenges that life would — or rather, will — throw at me. However, I knew one thing to be true — that I’d never have to face those challenges alone.