I wanted to call Jack. Or Arthur. Somebody. But Bruno grabbed me by the wrist and glared at me tearfully. "No."

"But-"

"I don't want anyone to see me like this."

"Jack wouldn't mind-"

"Please, Robert, don't fucking argue with me," he snapped.

I must have looked as wretched as I felt. I tugged at his hand until he reluctantly released me.

"Robert, don't be mad-"

I shook my head dumbly. My vision grew even blurrier as fresh tears sprang into my eyes.

"You don't understand-"

"No, I don't," I replied. "I don't at all. I love you. I'm here for you. But if you don't want my help, fine-"

"You can't help me, Robert."

"I don't believe that. You go ahead and shut me out. I'll just let you find your own way home then, since you don't need me."

I got to my feet slowly. My legs felt like they were filled with lead. I didn't want to go, and I certainly didn't want to leave him alone. But if I didn't get away from him, I was going to break down completely, and I couldn't bear that.

"I do need you, Robert," Bruno whispered. "I'm sorry if you think I'm pushing you away, but I'm not. It's just-it's nothing. Really."

"People don't fall apart like that for no reason."

He shrugged, and his dark hair fell into his eyes. He brushed at it impatiently, and I suddenly found that I couldn't move. "Bruno," I said stiffly, feeling as though my lips were numb. All at once I dropped to my knees again and knelt in front of him. "Please..."

He gave another earnest little shake of his shoulders and said, "There's nothing to tell, Robert."

"The hell you say. Go to the devil then. If you can't talk to me...how can you say you love me?" I wished back those words the moment I said them, but it was too late. You should never ask a question that you don't really want to be answered.

A muscle twitched in his cheek, but Bruno didn't say anything. He just looked at me with those sad, sad eyes, and I wanted to be anywhere else but where I was. I pushed myself off the grass and brushed at my jeans. I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye to him. I decided to head for home and hope that he found his way back...somehow.

Turning on my heel and walking away was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. But somehow I managed not to look back...because I knew that if I did...I would never be able to keep going.  I walked back the way we came and did my best to ignore the curious looks from the carnival workers in the booths we'd run by.  It was no business of theirs what had happened, was it?  Especially since I wasn't sure myself, and Bruno wasn't talking.

I tried not to look as I passed the shooting gallery, but a flash of orange caught my eye. The stuffed tiger was lying on the ground where I'd dropped it. Lost in the shuffle. Forgotten. Glassy black eyes stared sadly up at me from under soft fur. I was unwillingly reminded of another pair of sad, dark eyes that I had just left behind. I picked it up and brushed the dirt from its fur.  Shame, really, to leave the thing laying in the dirt.  It wasn't its fault, after all.

Whose fault was it, then?  

As quick as I'd left, I  turned back. He was a neurotic, close-mouthed little punk sometimes... but, dammit, he was my punk. I wasn't about to leave him lying in the dirt like a discarded toy.  That was the mistake his previous lovers had made. Not me. I was going to do better. I had promised him, hadn't I?

He was right where I'd left him, sitting alone and looking lost. I was crazy for even thinking of leaving. I'd never been one to give up that easily, and I'd be damned if I'd start now. If I had to stay here all night, that's what I'd do. Maybe I didn't understand him. But I loved him. For better. Or worse.

He didn't even look up as I approached. "Bruno? I'm so-oof!" A hand planted itself in the middle of my back and thrust me forward so hard that I almost fell on Bruno. "Hey! Watch it!" I cried out automatically.

"You are in great danger," intoned the owner of the hand, a sturdily built young woman who, by the look of her, seemed to be with the carnival.

"Yeah, right. From you," I sneered. "You're probably a pickpocket. Why don't you save us both some trouble and give me back my wallet?"

"I don't have your wallet. I came to warn you-" she began again.

"Right. Great danger. What are you, a fortuneteller or something?"

She sighed. "This stuff always works for me mum. How come it doesn't work for me?"

Bruno managed to stand up, albeit a bit unsteadily, and I resisted the temptation to reach out and touch him. "Are you supposed to be a gypsy in training?"

"Not all fortunetellers are gypsies, you know."

"No, I bloody well don't know. And did you take my wallet or not?"

"What? You on a schedule or something? What's your hurry?" she asked with a trace of interest. Shite. I didn't have time to play post office with a bloody schoolgirl who didn't know she was flirting with the wrong guy.

Suddenly Bruno stood up on shaky legs, looking decidedly worse for wear, but otherwise all right. "You came back," he said with an effort.

"I never left. Not really." I glanced warily at the young woman, then back to him. "I went back to the shooting gallery-"

He frowned. "Why?"

"I couldn't leave him behind." I handed him the tiger hesitantly.

Bruno looked down at the stuffed animal in his arms. "Poor baby," he said wistfully. "He would've been lonely for sure. Without me."

His mouth curved into the shyest of smiles and he kissed the top of the tiger's head. "He wants to be called Robbie."

"He does, does he?" God, Bruno melted my heart just looking at him. "What say we take him home then?"

"She's not coming, is she?" Bruno asked, giving the girl a decidedly unfriendly look.

"No!" I blurted out, completely startled by the idea. I frowned at the phony psychic. "You never answered about my wallet."

"You never checked your pockets," she said sweetly.

I reached into my jacket and felt a familiar weight there. "You put it back, didn't you?"

"I had to practice on someone," she pouted.

I glared at the little minx and tugged on Bruno's arm. "Come on. Before anything else goes missing."

"Spoilsport," she said, sticking out her tongue.

"I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but..." I let my voice trail off meaningfully.

She shrugged. I never looked back. My sole concern was Bruno. Nothing else mattered.

But I really should have checked my other wrist.

The little bitch took my watch.

*****

By the time we got back to my flat, Bruno seemed almost normal. In fact, if I hadn't seen it myself, I might have thought I'd imagined the entire breakdown.

He puttered around the kitchen, muttering something about heating up soup, and I abruptly realized that except for one badly digested hot dog, we hadn't eaten. "We could send out for Chinese," I offered.

Bruno blinked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. Maybe I hadn't said anything out loud. Maybe I only thought I heard the echoes of what I'd said reverberating in my head.

"You know Chinese? Wonton soup? Chicken Chow Mein?" I reminded him helpfully.

"Oh," he said quite apropos of nothing. That's when I realized that whatever happened earlier was still going on. "I'm not hungry."

"You were just going to make soup," I said, searching for logic in vain.

"Oh," he said again.

"Bruno-"

He shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

He sighed and played with a strand of his hair that had wandered down the side of his face. "I think I'll go to bed."

"It's the middle of the day," I protested.

"So what?" he snapped.

I watched him disappear into the darkened bedroom. I saw the light come on. I didn't follow him because...well, because I was afraid of what I might see. "Are you okay?" I called out.

When he didn't answer, I crept to the doorway and peered into the room. "Are you okay?" I repeated.

He was lying on his back in bed. Fully clothed. Shoes and all. "Aren't you going to take off your clothes?"

"I'm cold," he said as if that explained everything.

I nodded, but I'd never been farther from comprehension in my life. "Is it okay if I-"

"I'd rather be alone. If you don't mind too much."

"Sure."

I turned on my heel and wondered what movie I'd blundered into. In the end, he slept and I ordered Chinese food. I ate. He snored.

Until the screaming started.

I swallowed hastily and ran back into the bedroom. Bruno was practically standing up in bed, his eyes wide and wild. "Noooooo...."

"What's wrong?" I yelled.

Bruno looked in my direction, but I swear whatever he was seeing, it wasn't me. "Baby?"

I could see the moment that he came back from wherever his dreams had taken him. His light blue eyes crackled like electricity. "Robert?"

"I'm here."

"What just happened?"

"Don't you know?"

He shook his head.

"Maybe you should lie back down."

"No!" Bruno looked like the thought terrified him. He clutched the stuffed tiger as if it was a lifeline.

"Ummm...how's Robbie doing?"

"He had a bad dream," Bruno whispered, staring down at the tiger's head. His fingers restlessly massaged the fake fur.

"What about?"

Bruno's eyes flickered with something I couldn't really identify. "Don't remember."

"Maybe if you think real hard, you could-"

"No!" Bruno said vehemently, stroking the stuffed animal so hard that I winced.

"Maybe we should skip rehearsal. Jack won't mind-"

"I want to go," he murmured.

I couldn't imagine how Bruno could think of rehearsing in the shape he was in. "Screw rehearsal," I said heatedly.

"But-"

"It doesn't matter, baby. None of it does except you. I want you to feel better."

Bruno was so quiet for such a long time that I started to wonder if he'd heard me. Then he sighed, a soft exhalation of breath that made my heart ache.

"Can we watch TV?"

I brushed his hair back from his face and he closed his eyes. "You sure you want to stay up? You don't even like TV."

"I just-I just want to be with you," he whispered.

I couldn't resist the entreaty in those eyes. I didn't know what Bruno was hiding. I wasn't sure even he knew. But we would get through this. Together.

*****

As usual, there was nothing on TV. Bruno's eyes drifted shut halfway into an insipid sitcom, and I made no attempt to wake him. God knew, I had precious little furniture, but the couch was fairly comfortable and big enough for both of us. We had started out sitting side by side, but somewhere along the line, Bruno lay down with his head in my lap. Under normal circumstances, it might have seemed like an invitation to fool around, but these weren't normal circumstances by any stretch of the imagination.  He rubbed his cheek against my thigh in his sleep, and I threaded my fingers through his thick dark hair.

The phone rang, but I didn't want to disturb Bruno by getting up. I heard the answering machine click on, and then the flat was filled with the sound of Jack's voice.

Jack would understand.

*****

Jack probably did understand. The first time. But one night turned into two, two nights turned into three, and suddenly a whole week had passed.

Bruno wasn't sleeping well. Neither was I. Every time he fell asleep, he would twitch restlessly for twenty or so minutes before erupting into a full-blown nightmare of unbelievable proportions. He refused to say a word about the dreams except to describe them as bad. Which meant one thing. I was no closer to figuring out what was going on in his head.

And they were getting worse. Much worse.

I had a feeling I was in over my head. But I kept thinking, I can handle this, I can handle this.

I couldn't handle this.

I wanted to call Jack. But Bruno was adamant on that score.

I prayed for divine intervention. What I got was almost as good. Jack.

Undeterred by missed rehearsals, missed phone calls, and missing persons, Jack suddenly appeared one night, his elegant form framed in the doorway. "You never call. You never write. Was it something I said?" he asked dryly.

"Jack-"

"Ah, it speaks. So you are alive, after all."

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Jack. At last, something normal. Though normal is a word I'd hesitate to use in Jack's presence. After all, a six-foot tall transvestite is hardly the stuff dreams are made of.

Unless you're Arthur Stuart.

"You look tired, Robert. Is Bruno keeping you up nights?" Jack all but winked at me. Usually I would have responded with something that felt vaguely like amusement, but in my present mood, Jack's comment merely irritated me.

"You'll have to ask Bruno," I replied.

Jack gave me one of those elegant What-the-fuck looks he's partial to, and I just stared back at him. "So...what have you two been up to?"

"It's a long story."

"I'm all ears. Make me a cuppa tea and I'm yours."

Jack settled himself on the couch, his long muscular legs crossed one over the other. He was definitely staying. Now I had plenty of time to figure out how to explain what was going on with Bruno.

I sighed and absently raked a hand through my hair, which had the unfortunate effect of making it stand up on end. Where to start? "I-I...I'll go get the tea," I said lamely, bolting for the kitchen.

I almost made it, too. But Bruno was asleep in the bedroom. Or he had been. There was a blood-curdling scream, and I completely forgot about Jack. I ran into the bedroom like the gates of hell had opened behind me.

"Bruno!"

I felt Jack brush against my shoulder. "How long has this been going on? Why didn't you tell me this was what you were up against?"

What I saw brought tears to my eyes. Naked to the waist, Bruno was on his knees on the floor beside the bed. He was pounding on the mattress, chanting something that neither one of us could make out.

Then all of a sudden, he turned, his eyes red and swollen, his face frozen in a mask of horror. His hands were clasped around the stuffed tiger's neck, and if it'd been a real cat, it would have been dead.

"Robert! I killed him!"

End