Staying Grounded [BXB]

Provoked

SEBASTIAN:

What. The fuck. Have I done?!

Phone at my ear, I climb into my truck. Dobby's settling himself on the passenger seat, eying me with no small measure of concern. I shut us in and put the key in the ignition but hold off on starting the engine as the call rings out — and out — and then cuts off. Just as it has the past half dozen times that I've tried on the walk back to the stables. "Damnit, Craig!" I slam my fist off the steering wheel and scroll through my contacts to a new number. "Needs must."

This time, after about the sixth ring, an automated voicemail message kicks in. 'You have reached the number blah-dee-blah...' Dobby remains ever watchful as I strap myself in while I'm waiting for the beep.

"Hey, Alex. Slight situation. I've done something stupid and then may possibly have said something worse. Craig has plenty enough good reason to be freaking out right about now — like, full-on — and I don't know where he's gone. I'm heading out to look for him. Just, uh, if you have any ideas where he might be, I'd really appreciate your help. Give me a call when you get this. Please." I'm already taking the phone away from my ear before I think to add, "This is Bas."

With a twist of the key, the truck grouchily roars to life, and I get it moving out of the stable's car park onto the road, where, not so very long ago, had been the scene of Craig's kiss.

This day has gone from confusing to incredible to staggering disaster, all within the space of the last hour; my head is yet to catch up. I'm entirely certain, though, that the disaster part of it is very much my fault.

I take the turn in at the hole-in-the-hedge first, thinking that maybe, if Craig actually wanted me to find him, that would be the place he'd go. But, of course, he doesn't, and Roxy is nowhere to be seen. Wasting no time dithering beyond one more failed phone call, I reverse out of the lay-by and veer the truck back onto the road heading toward town.

He could have just gone straight home. Except, home seems to be the place he escapes from, not to. The Red Bull Inn is an obvious possibility, which leads me to believe he'd avoid there also. And I'm hoping Alex would let me know in the event he turns up at his. So, of the places I can think worth looking, that pretty much leaves me with any shop selling alcohol or the pit.

There's a good chance Ashleigh could offer up a dozen more options. She knows where Alex lives, for starters. However, the answers she'd wrangle for in exchange aren't ones I'm yet willing to give.

My watchful eye glimpses no sign of Roxy along the high street, and at a quarter past eight on a Saturday, the pub appears to be packed, far too crowded for someone not wanting to be seen.

I've never been to the pit, but I'm aware of it. I can recall Craig perking up as we passed by it that morning when I drove him through to college. Although it had been completely dead then, I've heard the tales of how it transforms on a night. I know that Alex isn't much a fan of the time Craig has spent there.

In truth, I realise that if he really wants to hide, he'll be nowhere I could think to find him. Seems unlikely enough I'd be counted on checking so far out for him, though, and if nothing else, I'll be able to mark it off.

As I leave the lights and streets and noise of Yoverton behind, the few miles stretch through the dark and empty moorland lends me nothing to distract my mind from Craig's voice, pounding like blood through my veins: "Don't stop."

I can feel the lingering thrill of his touch. Smell him. Taste him. See only the way he looked at me, nestled in to face me, his expression one of pure and unshielded bliss. A look as perfect as it was fragile.