It’s a few weeks later when he hears the boots again. Maybe longer. Maybe one month and seventeen days, but who’s counting? It’s on the High Street, on Daniel’s way to the shops because there’s only so long you can live on the contents of what was a pretty poorly stocked store cupboard to start with.
“Daniel,” Rob’s voice says. It’s still as deep as ever, but now it sounds hoarse as well. Daniel looks up to where he knows Rob’s face must be. The freshening breeze whips Daniel’s hair over his eyes and he brushes it aside automatically. He hasn’t bothered to get it cut for a while.
“‘Lo, Rob,” he says, trying to smile. It’s hard, because Rob’s voice isn’t smiling and well, there’s f**k all for Daniel to smile about at the end of the day.
“Daniel, I’m sorry, mate. I—look, can I buy you a c
