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Dead as a doornail	By : fundamellie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pet Shop Boys Views: 798 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The days passed and then a year was over and then another and again a new one began.
Stefan and I got together after a few months apart but the boy remained instable and had nervous-breakdowns all the time. He got increasingly moody, avoided his friends more and more and clung to me with added vehemence. We had more fights, terrible fights and even quit repeatedly. I had the occasional one-night-stand and sometime in the middle of all that mess even a short lived affair with a friend’s girlfriend. Of course Stefan and I fought because of it, of course I quit and of course I thought that this time it was over for good. I believed, or at least tried to believe that it was the best thing for both of us and certainly the best for the boy if he finally got rid of me. We vowed to stay friends but our new, supposedly neutral relation was strained from the start. I was too eager to prove I was doing fine without Stefan and did not want him back and Stefan tried too hard not to let it show that he was desperate and the one thing in the world he wanted was to get me back.
The Christmas which had followed the one I described earlier, I spend on Jamaica. I had deliberately wanted to get away from the traditional British celebrations which suddenly seemed both pointless and old-fashioned to me.
The one after that I had to spend mostly in hospital corridors as Stefan had developed a severe eating disorder and needed constant medical attention. I had feared for his life then but was also so weary of the endless complications. During our last meeting before Stefan agreed to be taken to hospital, I had somehow managed to shake him up a bit, to get him to open up and confess some of his fears to me. It had been a good talk, it had created a least the tiniest cracks in the solitary casing of that near shell-shocked boy. When I left him in the care of doctors and therapists, I felt overwhelmed, drained and resigned. I wanted somebody to take this burden from me, relieve me of the responsibility for this broken boy. Most of my friends now thought that Stefan should have stayed away from me from the start for it had never done him any good to be my boyfriend. There was only one person who shared my sentiments of feeling trapped and weary and it was this friend’s girlfriend whom I had had this affair with. I had gone to see her again one night after I had visited Stefan in hospital. Christmas was over and the New Year was still young but already seemed grim to me.
“Sometimes I just want to be free,” I told her, looking up at her, sitting on her sofa, feeling like I might do something stupid that night. She nodded and wordlessly handed me another glass of red wine.
“It’s all too much; I’m tired of all the complications, of all the worry. I wish all that Stefan and I had ever been was friends. He would not depend on me so much now. I don’t want to be careful all the time. I don’t want to always have to watch my words and actions.
I want to have a bit of fun. I want to have a goodtime with my lover, to laugh with him and to… you know? I simply want to enjoy the time I spend with him, no to always feel like walking along a steep cliff, dreading the fall. I mean, Stefan has got his doctors and therapists to take care of him. What can I do that they couldn’t? ”
I did not realize it back then but in that instant I put all the blame on Stefan. I turned him into a killjoy, a pain in the neck and a burden. I unfairly acted as if he had planned all of his mental and emotional instability as some kind of revenge to pay it back to me. What did I care about obligations or promises or even morals? It was my life I was living and I felt tied down too much.
I went home later that night after hours of talk and drunken laughter and quite a few hints from her side that there might be a way the two us could have even more fun. I did not let it happen then but knew that I might soon enough. For some reason I thought of that odd night time visit of Jeffery’s ghost when I sat in the backseat of a taxi, staring outside into the darkness.
“Ghost!” I caught myself thinking. “Now that really is some crap. Come on, Neil, you have been sentimental about this bad dream of yours for long enough!”
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