Fletch could barely see Monty in the shadows of his room. He looked quite ill, laying there so still as if he might have already done himself in. For what, over the likes of Gemma? who was a slapper through and through, or so Fletch had now decided.
He was ashamed and suddenly not sure of himself. How could that be. It was brilliant with Lauren. Wasn't it? Now he felt so unraveled. Gemma reminded him so much of Kelsey. It was shocking yet new with her, and he'd missed those times with Kelsey. They were fresh on his mind still. And to think those had been the best of times so long ago. And now Gemma. Jesus, he felt sure he'd go a bit a crazy if he kept this many secrets. He hated secrets. Really, he did. He wanted to remain true to Lauren. But what if she wasn't true to him, either.
It was confusing, but he didn't want to lay dying, there, like Monty.
"Monty?" He kept his voice low. There was no movement. Perhaps not a breath. It gave Fletch goosebumps. "Monty, please, be all right." He used his normal tone then. He was about to shake him, but finally Monty mumbled something.
Fletch jumped back, yet relieved that Monty was still in the here and now.
"Monty." Fletch looked at him, but didn't know what to say. What could he say? Exactly? I almost shagged your bird. Fletch just glared.
"What?" Monty winced. There was a silence. "Just let me sleep, will you?"
Fletch sat down on the bed, close to Monty who rose up on his elbows. Fletch couldn't help but to hug him so. And the next thing he did, possibly scared Fletch more than it did Monty.