Chapter Text
"So," Patrick began, piling more bacon onto Jim's plate. "This ex of yours… He's also an actor?"
Jim sighed and nodded. "Yeah. We met at work. Have done a couple of films together."
Patrick cocked his head expectantly, but Jim quickly changed the subject with an apologetic shrug. "Those guys you mentioned last time. The possible investors. Have you heard back from them?"
"I have," Patrick said, switching into professional mode as he put down his coffee. "They want to see a business plan. And some numbers from your previous films. I'll help you with that." Jim was about to thank him, but Patrick held up a hand to stop him. "You have to work too," he said. "They will need scripts or at least thorough summaries of five projects that you plan to do within the first year. Can you manage that?"
Jim searched his brain quickly, then nodded. He could spruce up some of the ideas Angelo had rejected and finish that cheating thing he had pitched to Richard.
"Nothing too complicated," Patrick cut in. "I know what you plan to do and it's going to be spectacular, but you have to start out small, James. Nothing longer than half an hour, no more than three actors per scene and no… no complex plots, okay?"
Jim barely resisted glaring at Patrick.
"So just basic, lousy porn?" he huffed. "Like everyone can make?"
"Not everyone," Patrick chided him. "And just because it's simple doesn't have to mean it's bad, does it? Not when you're behind it."
Jim had to fight the urge to preen. "I suppose not, but it's just not what I pictured doing."
"I know, darling." Patrick reached over to take his hand. "But it's just at first, okay? Just to get them on board and get things started. Once you're established we can do things your way. But you have to work up to it."
…
Jim spent a very happy day lounging on the soft sofa being pampered by Patrick, who'd taken the day off to take care of Jim and fed him so many delicious treats that he had to decline dinner.
But while Patrick was fixing himself a sandwich, Jim realised that the dull ache in his stomach was only partially caused by too much chocolate and ice cream.
"Can I borrow your phone?" he asked as Patrick returned, carrying a plate and a glass of wine.
His smile faltering a little, Patrick told Jim he could use the landline in the office and, only limping slightly, Jim made his way to the front of the house.
He sat staring at the phone for several minutes, then punched in one of the few numbers he had memorised.
The phone was answered almost immediately. "Pete here."
"Hi," Jim said and waited a second, half expecting Pete to hang up on him. "It's me. Jim."
"Yeah, so I gather." Pete sounded equal parts relieved and pissed off. "What the hell happened? Where are you?"
"I'm with a friend," Jim said. "I was feeling kinda weird and needed some time to… to get my head sorted."
"The hell you did!" Pete snapped. "Running out on Sebastian like that was a shitty thing to do. Yeah, I know you weren't feeling well after what happened, but neither was he. Honestly, how things ever got so far out of hand I'll never know."
"Nothing was out of hand," Jim snarled, sincerely regretting he'd called. "Everything was going just fine and the movie was gonna look awesome and then suddenly Sebastian decided to chicken out. So yeah, I may have gotten a little mad at him but he deserved it."
"You were unresponsive, Jim. You scared the shit out of Sebastian."
"I wasn't… I was just…" Jim closed his eyes, trying to think back. "I was just taking a break. The camera was off my face so I could relax. And I was focused on holding still so I wouldn't mess up the cuts. If Sebastian had given me a few seconds more, we could have carried on."
"Bullshit, Jim!" Pete was definitely furious now. "I know Sebastian and I know how well he knows you. If he said something was wrong, something was unquestionably wrong."
"Fine…" Jim could feel himself pouting. "Believe what you want."
They were both silent for a long moment.
"Sebastian's really worried," Pete said, making an effort to sound calm. "He's been waiting for you at home, debating whether to report you missing or not."
Jim sighed. "I'm not coming home," he said. "Not yet, anyway. Blowing this film has really set us back. I need time to figure out how to salvage this. And I need… I just need time…"
It was Pete's turn to sigh. "At least call him," he implored. "You owe him that."
"I don't owe him anything. In fact… Can you give him a message from me?"
"That depends on the message."
"Pete… Please… I can't deal with this right now. Please tell Seb that he should move back to his own place. We're not going to raise enough money anyway, so there's no point in him selling it.”
This time the silence was so long that Jim began wondering if they'd been cut off. "I'll tell him, Jim. But you gotta talk to him at some point. For both your sakes."
...
"Did you talk to him?" Patrick asked, not meeting Jim's eyes when he returned to the sofa.
"No!" Jim answered truthfully. "I called a mutual friend. Asking him to convey a message. That…" He paused, realising he had to modify a bit. "That he can no longer stay at my flat. That he needs to find another place to crash."
Patrick smiled and held his hand out to Jim. "Good for you," he said, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head. "That's the first step to getting rid of him."
Basking in the praise, Jim nuzzled Patrick's neck. "It's the second step. The first was realising where to go."
"Yes." Patrick laughed, tilting his head to let Jim suck gently on the skin. "That was a very good start. You are where you belong now and I'm going to take care of you."
…
Monday morning, Patrick had to go to work, reluctantly leaving a pouting Jim in the bed surrounded by books, snacks and a large thermos of his favourite tea.
But no sooner was Patrick out the door than Jim was on his feet, roaming the house restlessly, looking for something to do. Being pampered was very nice, but it did get a bit dull in the long run. Four days of it was just about what he could stand without needing some kind of diversion.
The best thing would have been to get started on those scripts that Patrick said they'd need for the investors. But even though Patrick had given Jim his passwords and granted him full use of his office, it just wasn't enough. All his drafts and ideas were on his laptop. Back at the flat.
He should have asked Patrick to go and get it for him, but Sebastian might still be there and he couldn't risk them running into each other. There were too many things they didn't know about Jim. About each other. But together, they more or less had the whole disgusting picture. And if they managed to piece it together, both would drop Jim like the miserable piece of shit he was.
He'd lose it all. Again.
He would have to risk going there himself. After all, what were the odds that Sebastian was still hanging around? Even with most of his stuff gone, Sebastian's flat was still a lot nicer than Jim's. He'd be able to refurnish it quickly and get his life back on track. Back to how it was before Jim fucked up everything.
Patrick had left Jim one of his cards in case he felt like ordering something in. Jim supposed he wouldn't mind him using it to pay for the cab. He'd pay it all back. Eventually.
Asking the driver to wait for him, Jim hurried up to his flat and spent a whole minute listening at the door for signs of movement inside. Nothing.
He retrieved his extra key from where it was taped to the top of the doorframe and let himself in, still stepping lightly, just in case. But after a quick inspection, he had confirmed that not only was Sebastian gone but all his things with him.
Jim had his home back!
But he didn't even consider hanging around. Not when he had a huge gorgeous house in Belgravia waiting for him with a fridge stocked with delicacies, a bed the size of his whole living room and a sweet, wealthy man, eager to give Jim anything he could possibly want.
He got out his small suitcase from under the bed and packed a few of his favourite outfits. Patrick had already supplied him with new underwear and pyjamas, but they hadn't had time for an actual shopping spree yet. Stuffing the most essential toiletries in a smaller bag, he proceeded to the living room in search of his laptop.
There, right on the table, were his keys, his wallet and his phone. The phone was off, of course. It had been days since he'd charged it. But when he pressed the button it came back to life. Somebody must have turned it off before leaving it there for him.
That was considerate. He shoved all three things into his pockets and then finally located his laptop on the floor next to the sofa. He squeaked in surprise and almost dropped it when his phone began buzzing in his pocket. Right where he was most ticklish.
Squirming, he managed to dig it out and then flumped down on the sofa when he saw more than 20 texts and voicemails from Pete. Most of them from within the last two days.
His first impulse was to just ignore them for now. Or maybe even delete them.
But he supposed he did kind of owe it to Pete to not just drop off the face of the earth. Even though he was Sebastian's friend first, he had been nice to Jim. They were kind of friends too, weren't they? That didn't have to go away now.
So, steeling himself for a flood of guilt, he opened the first voicemail.
"Where the hell are you, Jim?" Pete was almost screaming. "Call me! Like, right now! It's Sebastian!" There was a pause during which Jim could hear muffled voices in the background. "Fuck, Jim… This is bad. This is really bad. Call me!"
Jim's blood turned to ice. Sebastian? Was he hurt? Had he… had he hurt himself?
With numb fingers, Jim fumbled to scroll through the messages. They were all the same: Pete begging him to get in touch as quickly as possible. Whatever had happened, it was so horrible that he needed to tell Jim in person.