Because, Brett... [BxB]

Chapter 22: Part Of Your World

"Come round for dinner tonight." Alice orders through the phone, "My parents want to talk to you. Properly this time."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," I tell her truthfully. Running a hand through my hair, I push a button on my desk, informing my assistant to come in.

"I don't care. You're coming."

"Will Lewis be there too?" I'm curious if this is some kind of gathering of the boyfriends for a nice dinner. God knows I can't live through another interrogation by the Howe family — like mother like daughter.

"No one told you?"

I hear some shuffling in the background on her end of the line as someone asks, "Well?" Alice shushes them, mumbling an indiscreet, 'Yes, he's coming.' and I raise an eyebrow as I wait for her attention to be settled again.

"Told me what?"

"We broke up. Months ago actually. Brett said he'd caught him cheating or something."

My office door opens and my assistant stumbles in with a coffee in one hand and stacks of papers in the other. "I'm going to have to go," I say.

"See you tonight," she pries.

"Fine."

I slip my phone back into my pocket, sigh and lean back in my chair. I miss him. It's all I can think about twenty-four-seven. I miss him and I want him to come back.

These days, I keep a flask in the top drawer on the left-hand side of my desk and it comes in handy a lot. Taking a swig, I finally turn my attention to my assistant.

"I need you to clear my schedule for the evening. Also, give me that coffee."

"It's my coffee-"

I narrow my gaze and he sheepishly places it on my desk amongst the masses of statistics reports I was going to go over today.

"Is that everything?"

"Yes, thank you, Nigel."

I tip the remnants of the flask into the steaming liquid as my office door swings closed behind him.

+ + +

When I knock on the door to Brett and Alice's house, a wave of hope rushes through me. I can imagine Brett opening the door because he was always the one to answer the door when I came round. If Alice wasn't in we'd spend the evening on the sofa, watch a movie, have a little to drink. And if she was, we'd sneak up to his room like teenagers and make out on his bed. Maybe that's why I'm so heartbroken when his father, Andrew, opens the door instead.

"Thank you for coming." He offers his hand and I take it in a strong shake before handing him the bottle of wine I brought with me. White. Brett liked red.

I follow him through the house and into the kitchen where the others stand sipping their already filled glasses. Andrew quickly returns to the stove, setting my bottle next to another on the countertop. Whatever he's cooking smells delicious, like something straight out of a professional kitchen, and it has my mouth watering.

"Seth," Alice beckons me with a wave of her wrist and I comply immediately. "You remember my mum Sarah, don't you?"

"Of course." I turn to her offering a short, "Nice to see you again." before I become nothing but a bystander to their gossip.

It's funny how the world keeps spinning. We go to work, live life as normal because there is nothing else we can do. Instead of talking about Brett, they exchange pointless thoughts on last nights episode of Eastenders. I don't miss their sad glances though. The melancholy silences between conversations as if they've once again realised that a voice is missing.

It must have only been minutes later that I excused myself to get a drink, always white these days.

"They can talk your ear off can't they?" Andrew comments from his post hovering over a pan.

Prying the cork out of the bottle, I smile a little, "Yeah, must be something that runs in the family."

"He was always quite chatty, even as a kid."

I wince internally at the word 'was'. It's too definite, too final. "What was he like then? As a kid?"

Andrew's lips tilt up at the edges. "He was special. Not like the other boys who wanted to roll around in the mud and chase after girls. He was very sure of himself and always told us he wanted to be a dancer. So driven for a child."

As I fill my glass to the rim, I let a slight smile come to my face because that sounds like Brett. He always gets what he wants. "Do you need a hand with anything?" I offer, gesturing to the food.

Andrew shakes it off, saying he's fine and dinner is almost ready anyway. It's really only a few minutes until we're all sat down, the Howe's and I -- the boyfriend of their missing son -- odd as it is. Yet, I don't feel uncomfortable. Sarah constantly assaults me with questions about my job and other details, whilst the other two only join in where necessary. I don't understand why they invited me, but it's nice to talk to something like a family.

It's when dinner ends and Alice starts to clear the table that I start to get the impression that something is wrong. As I stand to help her, she tells me to sit down because her parents have something they need to tell me.

"You should know that they found something," Andrew says.

The Police? The look of terror and despair and restraint on my face must say it all.

"In an alleyway off of Thyme Street, his keys were on the ground, and there was blood."

Sarah's eyes are red and bloodshot as she excuses herself to go and help Alice with the dishes. 

"His blood?" I ask and Andrew nods. My hands tremor. "What about security footage from that night? Did it catch anything?"

"Barely. A man in a black hoodie. Unrecognisable."

I clasp my wine glass between my fingers and down the lot. Blood. Blood means that he's hurt. Blood means he could've been stabbed or worse. Blood means that there is a far more likely chance that 'was' -- past tense -- is how we should be referring to him. 

"Thank you for telling me."

I don't stay for dessert. As soon as I can, I leave and race home where I can be angry and sad and mad and everything in between without the fear of having a complete meltdown in front of a family that is probably in a lot more emotional distress than me.