It felt like morning but the room was still dark. Something had made me wake from the strangest of dreams.

There were five lions in the corner of the bedroom, and a man had come to entice them into a cage that he’d brought with him. He told me to cover myself with the duvet while he guided them around the foot of the bed.  

It had been a lengthy process, and once, when I allowed my arm to trail from the safety of the bed, a lion had put my arm in its mouth, unsure as to whether it should bite it off.

The man had prised the arm away and told me to keep it out of sight.

There was only one lion left, and that was when I heard the door to the apartment open and close. I needed to shout a warning to whoever it was, but I was awake now, and the lions had gone.

I checked my phone and it was 7am, and somebody had definitely entered the apartment because I could hear footsteps in the hallway that halted outside the bedroom door.

I couldn’t imagine who it might be because Levi was staying at his girlfriend’s, and Charlie was with friends in Manchester.

The bedroom door opened slightly, and a head appeared around it.

“Are you awake?”

I blinked from the light that shone from the hallway.

“What are you doing back home Charlie?”

“I couldn’t sleep and so I got the first train home.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am fine, but I thought I had better let you know that I had arrived home.”

“Cool,” I said, but I didn’t see any reason why he had to wake me because he could easily have slipped into bed and I would have been none the wiser.

“Are you sure that everything’s alright?”

“I am fine, just a little tired.”

He dumped his rucksack on the floor and came inside . 

“I still don’t get why you’re back so early.”

Charlie parked himself on the bed and looked around the room in the half-light.”

“Are you looking for something?”

“I’m sorry. I did not think and I suddenly realised that you might have somebody here.”

“There’s nobody here, and would it have mattered if I had?”

“No, but I would have been very embarrassed.”

Was my imagination getting the better of me? 

Had Charlie tried to catch me out? Had he deliberately come home early to see if I was sleeping with somebody? 

There was no reason for him to do so because we were both free to do as we pleased.

Charlie stretched beside me and rested his head on the pillow.

“Do you mind if I sleep here?” 

I didn’t know what to say, and Charlie mistook my silence as approval because he closed his eyes and started to drift off.

I looked at my phone and there was a BBC news alert that said that ‘Ukraine’s military was withdrawing its troops from Avdiivka – the key eastern town besieged by Russian forces.’ 

It didn’t mean anything to me, and besides, my mind was preoccupied with more interesting thoughts. 

The idea of going back to sleep seemed implausible. I listened to Charlie’s gentle breathing and remembered a Pet Shop Boys song that went something like

I don’t know why
It always comes as a surprise
To find I’m here with you
You smile and I am rubbing my eyes
At a dream come true

Except the dream hadn’t come true yet, and much as I would have liked to have held him in my arms and protected him, I resisted the urge to do so.

When I woke a few hours later,  the bed was warm, Charlie’s discarded clothes were scattered across the floor and he was curled up asleep underneath the duvet.

A parcel came for Charlie. It was a small brown box that had been posted in France. He was still asleep, so I put it on the side, and it would be hours before he noticed it.

“Why didn’t you tell me that I had a package?”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

Charlie ripped the box open and pulled out a pile of magazines. They were called Catholica and there was a photo of him on the cover. He was in his underwear, or rather somebody else’s, and was seductively looking up at a stained glass window.

“Look at these. Matis has published my photos.”

“Who is Matis?” 

“I told you about him. He’s the photographer I met in Paris, who styles himself on Jacques Henri Lartigue.”

The name rolled off his tongue, but I had no idea who he was, and the expression on my face gave me away.

“Lartigue was France’s greatest photographer.”

“Is Matis a good photographer too?”

“The best. He has published in all the major magazines, and this might be the making of me.”

Charlie closed the box and any hope that he might give me a copy quickly vanished.

Later that day, I googled Matis, but found nothing. I persevered and eventually found him after searching for photographers based in Lille. He had an Instagram account and amidst countless images of half-naked boys, I discovered Charlie’s photos.

I knew this body well from the times when he’d sat on the floor in only his underwear and painted. I would steal glances while writing, and then pretend to be concentrating on my work whenever he looked my way.

Charlie wasn’t mine and hadn’t given any indication that he might be interested in me, but the more I looked at the photos, the more I became jealous.

I was envious of Matis, whose images also populated the page, that he was younger, in his late twenties, and more handsome than me. He’d cast a spell on Charlie, and I was increasingly afraid that he might lure him away, back to his homeland, and leave me behind.

That night, Levi was working, and Charlie spent ages in the shower, followed by his normal routine of applying expensive lotions.

I opened a bottle of wine and binge watched a Swedish tragicomedy where a naïve 27-year-old loses his father in an accident and does everything in his power to avoid his grief, and slips into the adult world of sex, drugs, and alcohol.

Charlie finally appeared in silk pyjamas and dressing gown, his hair neatly combed, and smelling of expensive French cologne. He made himself comfortable on the sofa beside me and, like always, placed his bare feet on my lap.

“Will you massage my feet?”

I gently stroked his soft skin while thinking that it was an intimate moment, but Charlie was absorbed in his iPhone.

“Matis has asked me to go back for more photos,” he said.

I wanted to say that I hated Matis and wished that he’d shut up about him. I also wanted to tell Charlie that I’d become very fond of him, that I was falling in love, and wished that he’d stay here with me.

I didn’t say anything like that because I was afraid that if I had, Charlie might become upset and say that it wasn’t what he wanted, and that it might be best if he moved out.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” I told him.