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Stuart threw his jacket down angrily and stormed over to where the computer lay silently beckoning. Clicking on the power he waited until the screen flashed ready, before accessing his internet address book. While the screen flickered and whirred, he took out his mobile phone and pressed the button. "C'mon, Vince," he hissed. Suddenly glaring at the tiny screen, his jaw tightened, "You've got your fucking phone turned off?" he gasped. Flinging the hapless machine across the room, he turned back to the computer, now eagerly awaiting his commands. "Yeah, well I suppose 'Cameron' doesn't like to be disturbed, does he? I mean, I could be lying here in a pool of blood, but *Cameron* doesn't like the phone ringing while he's fucking, so you turn it off," he raged at no one and nothing in particular. Three weeks it had been, since Vince had met Cameron again. And in that time, Stuart had hardly seen him. "I mean, what kind of a mate swans off to Paris, leaving his best friend with a baby to look after for the weekend?" Stuart ranted at himself, "A whole fucking weekend! I thought I was going mad!" he shouted at the phone, now nestled in the corner. "And did I get any sympathy from the lesbians? Did I hell. Oh no, they told me to call Nathan, said he'd know how to change nappies since he was only just out of them himself! Bitches!" Stuart fixed himself a drink and sat down at the computer. "I wonder what 'GoodFuck's' doing tonight?" he pondered, "Although, I don't know about 'good'. I thought he was pretty average myself," he drained the glass and reached for the bottle again, "Maybe I should just drink myself to death? After all, at *my age*," he spat the words out, "That's about all I'm fit for!" The current dark mood had begun earlier that evening in Babylon, when Stuart had approached a stunning young man in the tightest of leather jeans. This bronzed Adonis, who was blatantly still sucking on his mother's tit, had laughed and said that he didn't shag 'older' men. "I'll give him 'older men', the tight-arsed little fuck," Stuart snarled as he ran through the address book on screen. A part of him was still denying the fact that the black mood wasn't entirely down to the earlier insult. The new and frightening feeling, that he begrudgingly recognised as jealousy, had been rearing its ugly head for the past three weeks, and no amount of mindless fucking could truly wipe it away. Vince was *his* mate. The mate who was always there when he screwed up and needed saving from himself. The mate who always knew how to put things right. The mate who never got shagged and, dear God, *never* had a 'relationship' with anyone. If he couldn't rely on Vince, then who else was there? Even his own sister hated him. But that's because he was a bastard and he knew it. Fuck and run, that had always been his motto. But Vince never let him run far and always made sure he came back to earth with a bump. "There you are, shagging that old man, when I need you," he said aloud, his mood darkening more with each passing moment. Glancing at the screen, he smiled. Beneath the photograph the words: 'Want it rough? Call me'. Stuart smiled to himself, maybe that would exorcise his demons for tonight? Help chase away the thoughts of Vince and that dinosaur curled up in bed after shagging one another stupid. He was an intelligent man, he knew that it wouldn't, but right at this moment, he really didn't care. Typing quickly, he pressed 'send', then felt his gut tighten. Was this all there was ever going to be? Retrieving the phone, he pushed the button once more, but the message was the same. "If he's a fucking serial killer and I end up as a statistic, it'll be your fault, you know that don't you?" he growled.
As the door buzzer sounded, Stuart replaced the photograph on the shelf and slowly moved across the room to allow the visitor entry. Glancing back one last time, the smiling faces of a young Stuart and Vince, arms slung around each others shoulders, enjoying happier times….for some….gently mocked.
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