The next night, Daniel doesn’t hear Rob’s boots walking up Market Street. Or the following night, or the one after that. Seems Rob’s found another route home after work. Daniel hates that it hurts. He knew this was coming, didn’t he? You don’t let someone f**k you for money and then expect to still be friends. He wishes he’d gone home early that night, like he’d planned to before Rob turned up. But he’s wished for a lot of things in his life and got sod all to show for it. He doesn’t expect anything to change now.
So he smiles at the punters and gives them what they want and takes their money, and afterwards he goes home to his bare little place—minimalist, a bloke he brought back called it once, which Daniel thinks must be a euphemism for bloody depressing, not that it’ll bother him for
