Frustration -SERIES- [Part 1] [boyxboy]

Chapter Nine

Understandably enough, Conor was in a foul mood over the next few days. Mysteriously uncontactable for once, Sean McKinney was keeping mum on the whole subject, but to her credit Sarah tried her best to have the article removed from the magazine. As soon as Conor showed her the piece, his eyes shining with as-yes unshed frustrated tears, she grabbed her phone and went into full publicist mode – even though that's not her job. She paced around our room as we sat dumbly on the bed, shouting into her phone to various different people for a good half hour until, eventually, she put her phone away, pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment and then looked at us helplessly.

'I'm sorry, hun,' she said, shrugging. 'They've already started shipping copies to all the stores that carry them, and subscribers will all have their issues by morning. My hands are tied.'

Having bounced erratically from angry to frustrated to hopeless to just plain sad several times over the last thirty minutes, I was wary about how Conor would react to this, but his shoulders just slumped and he let out a breath he'd probably been holding since he sat down.

'That's what I thought would happen,' he mumbled, looking at the ground. 'Thanks anyway, Sarah.'

Sarah smiled sadly and let herself out of the room, leaving me to deal with Conor. He didn't want any of the others to know about the article, but they'd find out by tomorrow anyway. I figured he was resigning himself to his fate.

Which wasn't all bad. As we made the hour long journey along the M62 from Manchester to Liverpool for the next night's show, Daniel, Philip, and Tarquin put on a comedy show worth prime time viewing as they passed comment on the article's contents; all of it at the expense of Carrie Chilcott, who came across as rather obsessed with my boyfriend and his sex life. Their commentary did seem to cheer him up a little every now and then, until he remembered that the contents of the article were so painfully personal.

He was sitting in the corner at the back of the bus brooding when we were about half-way between the two cities, when I felt a dig in my side and looked up to see Jackson had slipped into the seat by mine.

'You okay?' he asked quietly.

'Sure. Why wouldn't I be?'

'Well I know Conor is the only one named in that article, but it's just as much about you. You seem to be handling it abnormally well.'

I sighed and shrugged. 'What else can I do? He's falling apart. One of us has to stay sane.'

'Yeah,' Jackson agreed slowly, and I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. 'But you didn't sign up for any of this.'

It took a second, but I understood his implication and scowled. 'Oh, fuck off, Jackson. I did too. I can handle some dumb bitch spreading nasty rumours okay, I've been to grammar school. I knew from the very beginning what being Conor's boyfriend meant.'

Jackson raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'Nobody was prepared for this,' he pointed out, jabbing at his copy of the magazine, which sat in his lap. 'Not even Sarah or McKinney.'

I shifted uncomfortably. 'Okay, so maybe this exact level of scrutiny was a bit unexpected,' I admitted. 'But I'm not about to jump ship now.'

'I wasn't suggesting you should. I'm just saying that nobody would blame you if you packed up and went home before this got any more out of hand.'

I glanced back at Conor doubtfully. 'Maybe not. But I think he kind of needs me right now.'

'Fair enough,' Jackson conceded, even as Conor must have sensed my gaze and looked up, smiling weakly.

'Speaking of,' I murmured, standing up and squeezing Jackson's shoulder as I passed. I knew he was my friend and just trying to look out for me. Plus aside from Conor, he was the only one who seemed to care how any of this was affecting me.