In the first two parts of our story, a new lodger finds himself unexpectedly needing care – and cuddles! But the embarrassment of a wet bed finds the young man in need of a different kind of protection.
A special thanks to Anthony for the amazing story. Here, we bring you to the conclusion of Part Three. To read the previous chapters, click here.
I woke up early the next morning and made my way out of bed. I woke Tim up in the process; he looked at me and I stroked his hair gently.
“It’s OK, go back to sleep,” I said. It was Saturday, and he didn’t need to go to work. He closed his eyes again. I quietly gathered some clothes. I got ready and headed out the door. I went shopping for some supplies to help Tim’s current problem.
I got back home a few hours later, and Tim was awake, dressed and in the other room. I put my shopping on the floor in the living room and asked Tim to join me. He walked in and saw me just sitting on the chair looking at him.
“What’s the matter, Andy?” he asked.
“Sit,” I said gesturing the sofa next to me. He sat down and looked at me intently.
“Tim, as you know you’ve been having… accidents,” I said. He was about to jump to his defence, but I up my hand and this stopped him from interrupting. “I don’t know why. I don’t know if you’re… well… I don’t know; however, what I do know is that I’m not prepared to let this happen again.”
“But, …” Tim interrupted.
“SO!” I said over him and he stopped. “I’ve got a solution for the short term, and hopefully by then this will sort itself out. You may think that this is a little drastic, but I want you to at least give it a try.”
From the bag I pulled out a plastic bed sheet.
“This will go on your mattress, and I want you to wear these to bed, at least for the time being.” I showed Tim a large packet of adult disposable nappies.
Tim went wide-eyed. His face went white. He sat there in shock; staring at the packet of nappies.
“I am not wearing them! No way! End of story!” he said.
“Well if that’s the case you can’t live here any more because I am not having you sleep in one of my beds as you currently do. I am not having a repeat of the last two nights. I don’t want you to move out Tim, I really don’t. I like you living here. You know I do. But if you’re not willing to live under my rules then you can’t live under my roof.”
“This is fucking blackmail!” Tim insisted.
“No, this is me, trying to be a friend and helping you out,” I corrected him. “You know it’s better than the alternative. Can you at least give it a try? The doctor said that this should stop soon enough. When I’m happy that this has stopped you won’t have to wear these again.” I gestured towards the pack of adult nappies on the floor. “I promise.”
Tim looked crestfallen. He looked at the nappies and the plastic sheet. He sighed.
“OK,” he said. “I’ll wear the damn nappies.”
“Wonderful,” I beamed. “I’m glad you see sense.”
The rest of the day wasn’t out of the ordinary. In the afternoon Tim and I went to do our weekly grocery shop. Late in the afternoon we relaxed and did out own things. That evening we ate and talked as we always did. We watched TV together for a little while. It got to 11pm, and Tim looked at his watch and yawned loudly.
“Night, Tim. Don’t forget to get changed.”
“Get changed? What you talked about?” he asked.
“You know what I mean,” I said. Tim frowned.
“C’mon, do I really have to?” He asked.
“Yes, Tim, you really have to,” I affirmed. He sighed sadly and started looking at me pouting. I stared back at him. He pouted some more and I widened my eyes further. Tim smiled back.
“Worth a try,” he said. “Where are they, then?”
I picked up the bag that was sitting by the side of the chair. I pulled it open and took one out and handed it to him. He opened it up and looked at it.
“Christ! They’re huge!” He began to examine the nappy to see which end was the front and which was the back.
“Do you need a hand?” I asked.
“Erm… no, I’m sure I’ve got this,” he said and left the room for a shower.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked.
“Surprisingly comfortable,” he said, and he sat down next to me on the couch. He smelt like shower gel and baby powder. He began to wiggle slightly in his seat.
“Stand up,” I said. He looked at me puzzled. “I just want to make sure they’re on properly.”
“God sake!” He groaned and stood in front of me. I pulled his bottoms down and got a full view of his nappy. I looked up at Tim and he was turning a shade of red.
“Cheer up, Tim, you should see how adorable you look,” I said. Tim turned a darker shade of red. I turned him around and inspected the back. “This is expertly done, Tim, you’ve had practise?”
“No, it’s not rocket science to put a nappy on is it?” I patted his bum on a job well done and he pulled his bottoms back up. “Do we have to do this every night?”
“No, you seem capable enough,” I said. “But, do feel free to show me whenever you want,” I smirked.
“You better not be enjoying this!” he snarled. I laughed, and I pulled Tim down to sit next to me. I put my arm around him.
“Of course not. When you get through that bag and I’m convinced that you don’t need them any more you can stop wearing them, I promise.”
“What if the bags empty and you’re not convinced?” He said looking at me. I looked back into his eyes.
“Well, you have just said they’re comfortable.” He groaned and rested his head on my shoulder. I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.
In the fortnight since I asked Tim to wear protection to bed he had been to the doctor a couple of times to try and sort the problem out. He was prescribed a course of desmopressin which gave Tim terrible headaches and didn’t work if he didn’t take a dose before bed. The GP suggested a ‘star chart’ and a bed wetting alarm; however, nor Tim or I was convinced that either would permanently remedy the problem. Since then Tim began to wear nappies to bed every night and the sound of rustling plastic became common place.
Tim walked into the kitchen. He was wearing my dressing-gown, it was half open and I could see a nappy and t-shirt underneath.
“So that’s where that got to. I was looking for that,” I said.
“It’s warm!” he stroked the soft fluffy material. “You want it back?” he asked untying the chord.
“No, you keep it on,” I sighed. “You had a good night?” I asked. Tim shook his head. “Oh, never mind”. I went and gave him a reassuring hug. It seemed that since Tim had begun to wear nappies to bed he had been having more poor and wet nights than he did good and dry ones. The nappies had also leaked on a small number of occasions. I would have to buy some thicker and more absorbent ones in the future. “How about some breakfast.?” I asked helpfully.
After breakfast and having a shower Tim rejoined me downstairs.
“You got any plans for the day?” he asked.
“Not really. You got anything in mind?”
“Swimming,” he said. “I haven’t gone swimming in ages.”
“That sound’s like a plan,” I agreed.
Tim and I got ready, and I drove us to the water park. I insisted on paying for us both and we got changed, and I stepped into the water. It was colder than I would liked it to have been. Tim jumped into the pool and started to swim. I saw a verruca plaster float on the surface of the water and remembered why I stopped swimming in the first place.
I had an enjoyable time. There was a a couple of water slides to go on and I managed to do some laps. I stood up at the shallow end to catch my breath. While I was there I saw a young father with a small boy, no older than four. He was teaching his son how to swim. I was transfixed by the young boy laughing as he splashed about in the water and how his father was sharing in his son’s enjoyment. The young dad saw me and smiled, and I smiled back.
I felt someone tugging at my hand and saw Tim. He asked me to help him get a double swimming tire for one of the slides. As we stood in the queue for a tire I saw the young dad carry his son up the stairs. I looked over at Tim hugging himself and I placed an arm around him and asked him how he was. He gave me the quickest of hugs and felt him place his hand on my bare chest.
As the afternoon wore on I began to feel cold, wet and miserable. I told Tim I wanted to go. He said ‘OK’ and we left the water for the lockers.
I finished getting ready and went up to the cubicle that Tim was in. I knocked on the door, and Tim said that he would be five minutes and asked me to wait.
As I stood outside of the cubicles and waited from Tim a group of about five young men came in and made their way to unoccupied stalls. I took out my mobile phone and went to check my e-mails to pass some time. I didn’t have any messages and put the phone back in my pocket. “Come on mate, hurry up!” one of the lads said. I glanced over and saw that one of the young men was standing out of the stalls. He had stripped to his boxers and was waiting for one his friends to change so he could continue to get ready.
As I looked at him I thought about Tim. This kid must be no more than about nineteen or twenty, but for some reason he just seemed older than Tim. I know Tim looks young for his age but that wasn’t it. It was just mentally I had Tim down as being a lot younger than I knew he was. Maybe it was because I’d seen him when he was ill, and he’d been really upset on a couple of occasions and of course I’d seen him nappies. I’d been thinking of Tim as being ‘the boy I’m living with’ rather than a young man. It occurred to me how me I actually enjoyed looking after my lodger. I never wanted children of my own and Hell is other people’s children, but for some reason I’d develop this urge to ‘father’ Tim. Take him under my wing, to protect and look after. I thought about the young father and his little boy and realised that’s was how I pictured our relationship. I dismissed it earlier, but I felt like we where like father and son – or something very close to that.
The underwear clad kid looked over at me. I’d been looking at him long enough for him to notice. I turned to face another direction and got my phone out again and began pressing buttons to look busy. “Faggot,” I heard him say. I glanced back at him and shot him a contemptuous look. He saw me and turned his head sheepishly. I was relived, I wasn’t in the mood for a fight.
“Ready,” Tim said as he walked over to me.
“Got everything?” I asked him, and without thinking I brushed his wet fringe away from his eyes.
“OK, son,” I said to him and smiled. We headed back to the car and made out way home.
Halloween. Tim had spent the entire morning and good part of the afternoon nursing an exotic hangover from a Halloween party the night before.
“Not putting your dancing shoes on, then?” I asked him and he emphatically said he wasn’t.
After the Trick or Treaters had stopping knocking our door down Tim started a horror movie marathon. I sat down next to him.
“Can we have a chat, handsome?” I asked and clasped his knee a couple of times.
“Yeah, what about?”
“Nappies,” I said.
“Oh… right. You want me to keep wearing them don’t you?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. It’s OK.” It occurred to me that I never had to remind Tim to put one on. I was beginning to think that Tim might actually like wearing them.
“Hmm, that was easy enough,” I said. We sat together and it wasn’t too long until I had enough. Tim gave me a hug and I made my way up to bed.
It was half-two in the morning when Tim came into my room and woke me up.
“Andy… Andy!” he whispered, shaking me awake.
“Huh, what?” I said half-asleep.
“I’ve… I’ve had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?” he asked. I look at my alarm clock and saw the time. I was not impressed.
“Are you taking the piss?” I asked. “I was fast asleep. Go back to bed. You are unbelievable!”
“Dammit, Andy!” he climbed into my bed anyway and lay on top of me. I stuck my hand in to check his nappy and it was soaked right through.
He made no attempt to move at all. It was like he was hanging on for dear life.
“Tim?” I asked and looked at him. He was holding on to me and looked scared shitless. “Was your nightmare that bad?”
“Yes,” he said. I started to rub his back gently.
“You’re going to be OK. When you’re with me I’m not going to let anyone harm you,” I said calmly and reassuringly. “But you will get a rash if you don’t change that nappy of yours. So do that for me now, and I’ll be here when you get back. I promise.”
Tim got up quickly and left the room. He showered for less than a minute and dried himself quickly. I then heard the tell-tale sound of a nappy being taped up. He was gone no more than five minutes. He dived back into my bed and lay right on top of me again. He was still a little bit shaken up. I rubbed his back again.
“So, what is it that’s got you spooked?” I asked.
“Ghosts,” he said sullenly.
He sounded stupid and I laughed loudly. He thumped me hard on the side and he winded me slightly.
“Ow!” I barked. “I’m sorry, Tim, sorry,” I said still giggling.
“It’s not funny!”
I kissed the side of his head. I began to rub the back of his neck with one hand and cradle where I had been punched with the other.
As the night wore on Tim began to settle. He fell away from me and slept with his hand around my waist. He woke me up again as he stirred in his sleep. We lay there looking at each other. He grabbed my hand that was furthest away from him, and he pulled it over to him as he turned to face the other side. This made me slide close to him, his back against my front. I could feel the back of his nappy press against my crotch as we lay. I pulled him close for a hug and quickly fell back to sleep.
A few weeks later, I was sat in the kitchen reading the newspaper and heard Tim walk in.
“Tim, cancel your plans for this evening. There’s a film on at the cinema I want to see. I would go by myself but that’s not how I roll. What do you say? Eh?” I asked and Tim didn’t answer. I looked up to see why and saw he looked like he was in a daze. His eyes were red and his face sullen. He looked like he had been crying. “Are you OK?” I asked and put the newspaper down.
“I… I told my Mum about what’s been going on,” he said wiping his face, almost sobbing. “During the night, I mean.”
“Oh…?” was all I could manage.
“She seemed concerned. Said she wanted to me go back home… and then she told my Dad…” he started to well up again. “…and he started shouting…” He put his head in his hands. “…he said I was… he called me a… said I was a…” and burst into tears. He seemed heart-broken. I jumped up and put my arms around the boy.
“It’s OK Tim, sshhhh,” I said. He started crying on my shoulder. Tim managed to explained what he father had said to him. I was dumbfounded.
“It’s not going to stop is it? I’m going to piss in my sleep until the day I fucking die!”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” I rubbed Tim’s back, trying to find the right words to say. Tim was unimaginably upset.
I rubbed his back in small circles as he purged tears. I just held the boy in my arms, frustrated that I couldn’t do anything more.
I felt that I had some responsibility of taking care of him. No, it wasn’t just a feeling, It was something that I wanted. I wanted to always be there for Tim; to wipe away his tears, be there to ease any pain or anguish and dispel all his fears and anxieties.
“My mum’s right, I should go back home,” he eventually managed to say.
“No, I think you should stay. Finish that placement. It’ll be five months wasted otherwise,” I said. I didn’t want Tim to leave at all.
“No, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.” I held Tim’s face in my hands and looked him in the eyes.
“Listen: don’t let this get you down. I know what you’re going through isn’t fair, but we will get through this. Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. You don’t have to go anywhere. You’re living here with me… and that’s all that matters! We will get through this… together! All right?”
“You don’t mind me staying?” he asked.
“Not one bit.”
Tim looked at my shoulder and saw the damp patch he caused. He looked at me and gave out a nervous laugh. He eyes were big liked a puppy dog’s.
“It’s OK,” I laughed back and pulled the boy close for another hug.
A few days later I received a telephone call. A man with a heavy Scottish accent was on the other end.
“Hello, can I speak to Andrew Norcroft please?”
“It’s Northcross actually, but, yes, speaking.”
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Northcross,” he corrected himself. “This is Peter Myers, Tim’s dad.”
Tim walked into the room and handed me a cup of coffee.
“Oh… Hello, Mr. Myers, it’s nice to talk to you.” I said taking the cup of hot liquid from Tim. As I said this Tim looked at me bemused.
“Is that my Dad?” he asked quietly. “Is that my Dad on the phone?” I nodded. Tim threw his arms in the air “For fucks sake!” he muttered and walked towards the door. “If he asks, I’m not in. I’m out with friends or something,” and headed for another room.
Peter Myers and I discussed Tim, his wanting to stay with me and his night time accidents. He began to apologised on Tim’s behalf at length. I was under the impression that he was more embarrassed about his son’s condition than Tim was. I also noticed there was a distinct lack of sympathy for his son. I seemed to get the impression that he was trying to coax me into saying, “Your son is irresponsible and he should be ashamed of himself,” but I was unrelenting in saying that is was Tim’s business and had nothing to do with me.
I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. I tried to imagine what I would be saying if my son told me he was having problems with bed-wetting. I didn’t know what I would be saying, but I was sure it wouldn’t sound anything like this – then again I wouldn’t have told my son he was a ‘useless cunt’ either.
“Well if Tim gives you any more trouble please feel free to call me at any time,” he said and proceeded to give me a telephone number.
“I’m not sure I’ll need to, but thank you anyway.” I tried to imagine what this man looked like and how a few rounds of my fist to his face would look too.
“OK, well thank you for your time,” he said.
“OK, bye,” I replied and I put the phone down. What a prick, I thought.
“What did HE want?” Tim asked coming back into the room.
“Your Dad you mean?” I corrected him.
“Yeah, what did he want – let me guess: ‘I’m so sorry you had to find out my son is a disappointment. You deserve a medal for putting up with him. He’s always been a let down and he should be ashamed of himself,” he said doing a well rehearsed impression of his father’s voice.
I looked at the floor. Tim had seemed to hit upon the major themes of our telephone conversation. Tim shook his head in disgust. He was completely riled up.
“God, he’s such a fucking wanker!”
“Tim, come on, you shouldn’t talk about people like that.”
“Well you try living with him if you love him so much. I told him there was absolutely no need for him to speak to you. But did he listen?” Tim looked like he wanted to hit something. “I’m off out somewhere. I’m going to spend some money. That’ll no doubt piss him off,” he said walking towards the door.
“Wait a couple of minutes,” I said. “I’ll come with you. I don’t want you coming back tonight saying you killed someone.” I put on my shoes and a coat, and Tim and I got in my car.
Tim began to calm down as we shopped together. We spent the entire afternoon walking from shop to shop. Tim wanted to go into a music retailer; he browsed the aisles and picked up a few CDs and DVDs he wanted to buy. I took them from him and walked up to the counter with them.
“What you doing?” he asked.
“My treat, don’t argue,” I replied and did exactly the same thing in a video game retailer and one of those trendy, student-y clothes shop I would never have visited in a million years.
We had lunch at a coffee shop. Tim was standing next to me as I was placing our order. He kept staring at a really rich looking chocolate cake. I asked Tim to find us a couple of seats and he did while I continued at the counter. When I was done I looked over to find where Tim was sitting. I walked over with the tray of food and drink. There was a cup of coffee and a baguette for each of us as well as a slice of the cake Tim was looking at.
We walked into a large department store and we headed over to men’s wear. I picked up a jumper that I liked.
“What do you think?” I asked Tim.
“It’s green,” he said, and he walked away to another part of the shop.
I purchased the jumper and a few shirts and started to look for Tim. I couldn’t seem to find him anywhere and walked around looking for him for about 15 minutes. Eventually I found him in the last place I would have ever thought of looking: the toy department. Tim was standing amidst the teddy bears and soft animals. He was holding a teddy bear. One large enough for… well, someone Tim’s size. Tim was inspecting it intently, holding it, turning it in his hands, looking at the animal’s face.
“You all right?” I asked him. He looked over to where I was standing.
“I’m just having a look!” he said defensively.
“Are you thinking about buying that?” I asked pointing to the bear in his hands.
“No, I was just looking!” he protested.
“So, we’re good to go are we?” I asked. He put the bear back carefully, and he walked over to me. I saw him steal one last glance over his shoulder at the toy as we made our way out of the shop.
We arrived home sometime after 6pm. I was making some dinner when I heard the sound of a nappy crinkling. I looked over and saw Tim. He was walking over to me in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt.
“You’re ready for bed early,” I said as he came over and hugged me.
“I just felt like it,” he said.
We ate together and spent that evening watching some television. Tim was sitting on the floor playing with my iPad. I looked down at him and could see the back of his nappy poking out from under his bottoms. I spend a good while just looking at him thinking how adorable he is.
I got out of my chair to go into the kitchen to get something to drink. I came back in and Tim turned to look at me. I handed him a glass and he thanked me. Before I sat back down I went over to Tim and slid my finger in his nappy. This made him jump slightly. He turned and looked at me.
“What you doing?” he asked.
“Checking your nappy,” I replied.
“You haven’t moved all evening and I was just checking to see if you’re wet.” His nappy was dry.
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said and pulled the back of his t-shirt down.
“Why did you get ready for bed so early?” I inquired.
“I dunno, I just did,” he shrugged.
“What I mean is: why did you put a nappy on so early?” Tim started to look around the floor as if to find an answer and to avoid looking at me. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Is it just one of those things?” I asked. He smiled slightly and I ruffled his hair. I sat back down on the sofa. Tim looked over towards where I was sitting and crawled over to joined me. I looked down at Tim who was content to just rest his head on my knee.
I know that his Dad had really upset him and that phone call today was perhaps the final straw for him. Since Tim had moved in I had been more or less looking after him in a way in which someone looks after a child or dependent.
Today I treated him to just about anything he wanted and recently I feel like I’ve spoilt him rotten. I’ve never asked him to cook, wash up or even make his bed as I would do it all for him. “Have you got any money for lunch?” I’d ask him before delving into my wallet looking for bank notes to give him. He’s a grown man, and you treat him like I child, I thought. But if truth be told, I didn’t really mind it and I thought that Tim didn’t either. I felt certain that Tim had never had anyone look after him they way I do, even if it’s just to listen to him and ask ‘how was your day?’.
I remembered how stoic and introverted Tim behaved when he first moved in, and how he opened up and showed an almost childlike vulnerability – I mean: how many other twenty-five years old react to having a bad dream by sleeping and hiding in someone else’s bed?
I rested my hand on his waist, I patted and rubbed it slightly. Tim looked at me.
“You’re a good lad,” I said. Tim repositioned himself so he was lying on his front. He placed his hands on my lap and continued to lie there. We sat like that for an hour.
“Andy, have we got any nappies left?” he said lifting his head to look at me.
“Do you need to put a clean one on?” He nodded sheepishly. “There’s another pack in my wardrobe, son,” I said.
“Oh, OK,” he said putting his head back on my lap and I gently stoked his hair.
The programme that we were watching finished.
“Right, I’m off to bed,” Tim said. He pulled himself up and squeezed me tightly.
“Put on a clean nappy before bed. There’s a good boy,” I replied and then he headed for the door. The news started and I stayed up for another hour, not finding anything in particular interesting. When I felt tired enough I made my way upstairs.
I walked into the bathroom. Tim had left a nappy rolled up on the edge of the bath. I picked it up; it was heavy with urine. I threw it in the bin. I cleaned myself up and brushed my teeth.
I decided to check on Tim before I went to bed. I opened the door slowly. He was in a deep sleep, he looked innocent, curled up in the foetal position. I walked over to the bed, and I noticed he was cuddling one of his pillows like a child would a cuddle a toy.
“If Tim gives you any more trouble…” I remembered his father say. I shook my head as I thought of those words. I straightened his bed sheets and gently kissed his forehead. I walked towards the door. I looked back at him before I left his room.
“You’re not an ounce of bother are you, Tim?” I said quietly and carefully shut the door behind me.
One Friday night late in November, Tim didn’t return home until about nine. He came in a drunken stupor. He looked like he had one too many drinks.
“Everything OK?” I asked. He made a grunting sound and said he needed to make a phone call and went into his room.
He was in his room for a while. I went upstairs to see if he was all right. I got to the top of the stairs and could hear him say:
“I’ll just have to ask him won’t I… but I doubt he will… ’cause he won’t… he’s not like that… I don’t know Mum, I really don’t…” Not wanting to eavesdrop any more I made my way back into the living room. Tim came in shortly afterwards. He crashed onto a chair and let out a heavy sigh.
“That’s my Christmas down the shitter!”
“What’s happened?” I asked concerned.
“Well, they want me to work Christmas Eve, the 26th, 27th, 28th, 29th and the 30th,” he said counting each day on his fingers. “Meaning, there is no point going back home for Christmas.”
“Oh, Tim, that’s terrible!” I felt bad for him. He hadn’t gone back home since he moved-in. I knew he was looking forward to going home for a while. He gave another heavy sigh.
“So, if it’s not too much trouble would you mind if I stayed here for Christmas?”
“Tim, you know you’re more than welcome to stay.”
He smiled and thanked me. He looked at his watch and said he was fed up and was going to get ready for bed. Tim stood up and made his way into upstairs into the bathroom.
When Tim finished he came back down dressed in grey pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt.
“Forgot to give you a cuddle,” he said smiling.
I had settled down lying on the couch with a blanket pulled over me as I watched a film. He walked over to me, and I sat up and gave the boy his cuddle.Tim turned his attention towards the TV set and the movie that was showing. He sat on the chair at the other side of the room and began to watch. His nappy crinkling when his bum made impact with the seat. Half an hour into the film I looked over at Tim, he was huddled in a ball looking at the screen.
“Are you cold?” I asked.
“Yeah, a little bit,” he replied.
“I’ve got room for a little-un,” I said gesturing the blanket. He smiled and walked over and slid next me. Lying at my side, he placed his head on my chest and slid an arm around my waist. I readjusted myself, I had one arm over him and my other hand rested on his thick nappy.
“Thanks for letting me stay during Christmas, Andy,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Besides, at the risk of sounding selfish I hoped you would stay here for Christmas.”
“I really like your company Tim, and I love you to bits. There’s no-one else I know who I’d want to spend Christmas day with. Plus, you’re so cute with a nappy on,” I said and gave his padded bottom a hard and loud pat.
“Shut up,” he said meekly. His face turning red as he buried his head in my chest. I laughed a little and rubbed the back of his neck.
We lay together for the rest of the evening. As the movie made its way into the third act I heard Tim snoring quietly. I looked down at the boy sleeping sweetly next to me.
The film ended and I grabbed the controller and turned the TV off.
“Let’s get to bed,” I said softly.
Tim groaned slightly as I got the boy to sit up. I gestured him to wrap his legs around me and he complied. I stood up whilst holding the boy tightly. Tim was light enough for me to carry without too much trouble. He looked up. He saw I was taking him upstairs, and he shut his eyes again resting his head on my shoulder.
Rather than take Tim to his own room I walked straight into mine instead. I got Tim into my bed, and I showered quickly and changed into a clean t-shirt and boxers and climbed into the other side. I lay on my back and looked over at the young man lying next to me. You’re so beautiful, I thought. He saw me and he slid over and returned to the position he was lying in earlier. I gently kissed the top off his head and slowly rubbed the small of his back.
Tim fell asleep and I began to listen to his deep regular breathing. I lay there for a long time feeling the sleeping boy next to me. I was about to drift off to sleep, but I was woken by the feeling of warm urine beginning to flood the front of a nappy that was resting on my thigh.