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The first snowfall of 1922 was the first time Jimmy saw Thomas Barrow again. He’d bet on the first fight, and lost some money, and already tipsy and not wanting to venture out into the cold again, he’d stayed for the second. He didn’t hear the names being announced over the din of the crowd but he could see between the shoulders of taller, burlier men infront of him, glimpses of the ring.
At first he didn’t realize it was Thomas. Not because he didn’t recognize him, exactly- though, the other man did look different. The Thomas Barrow Jimmy had known was neat and had immaculate posture and always looked his best. The man standing in the corner of the ring was hunched over, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet with his bandaged fists held closely to his face, eyes intensely focused on his opponent. The cut of his cheekbones and jaw was familiar, if anything more defined than before, but his jawline was covered in a dark stubble and his forehead obscured by a long fringe of black hair falling into his eyes.
No, immediately Jimmy’s eyes seemed to hone in on him and his whole body experienced a jolt of recognition that started as a painful prickling in his chest and spread out as a startling feeling neither icy cold nor burning hot but some combination of the two that stretched over every inch of skin on his body. However, this was no new feeling for Jimmy and he’d experienced it on numerous occasions over the past two years (though perhaps with less force). It seemed that everywhere he looked he saw Thomas Barrow. Because Thomas Barrow had been haunting him since September of 1920 when Jimmy had forced him to leave Downton- with no reference, no hope of a life or career…. He’d seen his face, or thought he’d seen his face, many times- in every crowd, in every doubletake he took of a man with dark hair or nice eyes, in nearly all his dreams- Thomas Barrow. A man he’d worked with, a man he’d even felt affection for, who he’d punished and thrown out into a harsh and unforgiving world for being exactly the same as himself but being brave enough to not deny it.
But this time it wasn’t any half fledged imitation or spectre of Thomas, it really was him, as unlikely as it seemed. Jimmy pushed the men in front of him out of the way to move closer and raised himself up on his toes to get a better view as the bell rang.
His eyes moved briefly to Thomas’s opponent- a beastly looking man with a bald head and tattoos all over his body who charged forward from his corner like a wild bull nearly knocking the ref over and swung his arm, one meaty fist aimed right for Thomas’s head. He looked big enough that his fist could decapitate someone. Jimmy, despite having seen and bet on countless fights in the last few months felt his heart jump into his throat even though this was one fight he had no money riding on. But Thomas’s body swayed to the side in a seemingly effortless gesture, his head ducking under the fist at the last moment and Jimmy sighed with relief. In the close proximity and with his opponent recovering from his swing, Thomas used the momentum of his own defensive movement to lunge forward, his forehead pressing against the other man’s shoulder as he landed several brutal blows to each side of his tattooed ribcage then before his opponent could recognize what had hit him, fell back and retreated to the other side of the ring. The tattooed bully did seem to have a dumbfounded look on his face- like he wasn’t sure how or why exactly but his sides were suddenly in pain but after blinking a few times, shook his head vigorously and with a feral cry lumbered to the other side of the ring, arms out and swinging aimlessly.
Jimmy supposed vaguely that when you were that big there wasn’t much need for technique to win most fights but Thomas on the other hand was as graceful as a dancer and moved to the rhythm of the other man’s body, swerving and bobbing so not a single blow was landed then when the other man paused to take a breath, shooting a clean blow to his jaw that released a gruesomely loud cracking noise into the air. The man hit the canvas and the bell rang.
An obnoxiously tall person infront of Jimmy shifted where he was standing so he was directly in front of Jimmy who batted him out of the way and shoved his way forward until he was in the second row of the crowd. Thomas was sitting in the corner, wiping a towel over his face and looking like he was only half paying attention to a thin, black man in a fedora talking emphatically in his ear and giving him water.
It can’t be, Thomas…. Jimmy thought woozily. But it is… It can’t not be him either.
The tattooed man stood up again, looking a bit shakier than before and like the lower half of his face was in danger of falling off but valiantly put his dukes up and began bobbing around- albeit a bit more cautiously this time. Now it was Barrow’s turn to take the offensive and ruthlessly dove towards his opponent, swinging his fists in short, calculated blows against his torso then thrusting his elbow into some soft part of the other man that made him cry out and stumble back, doubled over. Jimmy pushed forward in the crowd as the jeering and cheering began to close in around him again, obstructing his view. This time he fell to the direct front, the rope around the ring inches above the top of his head.
It really was Thomas. There was no doubting it. The hand that he’d worn his glove on back at Downton was wrapped more thoroughly with bandages than his right hand. And when he pushed his hair back out of his eyes as his opponent recovered, Jimmy nearly saw a glimpse of the Thomas he knew whose hair was constantly slicked back with pomade.
It had taken two years and two months but he’d found him again.
Thomas circled around to the other side of the ring as the tattooed man stumbled back to him with renewed vigor and cornered against the rope was forced to take a blow to his ribs before darting away again, out of the bigger mans’ reach. Then he lost focus- for just a moment, and his eyes locked with Jimmy’s. Jimmy kept his gaze though it felt searing to him, like if he held it too long he might burn up or break apart. He held his gaze until the fist collided with the side of Thomas’s head and he was knocked flat to the floor.
Jimmy jolted forward, hands on the edge of the canvas now as he saw the streak of blood staining the white on the other side of the ring in a line leading to Thomas’s mouth.
Jimmy held his breath as he watched Thomas raise himself up wearily and pull himself to his feet. The two fighters levelled glares at eachother as the bald man cracked his knuckles menacingly and Thomas spat blood out of the corner of his mouth. They circled eachother slowly and the tattooed man moved first, jabbing Thomas from his left but falling just short of hitting him and giving Thomas an opportunity to slam him hard with his knuckles colliding three times fast with his ribs, knocking him back several steps. Without pause Thomas leapt forward again and this time from below, sent the side of his fist smashing against his opponent’s chin, knocking his head back and sending him crashing to the ground.
The ref leapt at the opportunity and the bell rang for a final time as the crowd cheered. But Thomas looked in a daze out at the crowd, eyes searching around until they landed on Jimmy’s face once more. Jimmy couldn’t move at first like his feet had been glued to the ground but finally and with some effort he stepped back and let the crowd swallow him up again.
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The next week when Jimmy came back, Thomas fought again. Again, it was the second fight of the night when less people were there. Jimmy stood towards the front and saw Thomas smoking a cigarette as he stretched and waited for his opponent. He’d shaved this time. And slicked his hair back. He was looking around the crowd expectantly until his eyes lighted on Jimmy and… he grinned. Like they were old friends. Like Jimmy hadn’t ruined his life. He was beaming just the same way he used to at Jimmy in the servant’s hall. The same warmth and slight apprehension that his smiles for Jimmy and Jimmy alone always carried. Like nothing had happened at all. Jimmy turned and left before the fight started, running back through the crowd as fast as he could until he was outside where the air was bitterly cold and chilled the moisture in his eyes. His teeth chattered as he sunk to the ground in the alleyway and he wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing them for warmth.
What am I doing here? he thought vaguely, looking up at the black sky and the white flecks of snow twirling lazily down from it in the lamplight. He stood back up, pulling his scarf up around his face and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the hotel he’d been staying in for the last 3 weeks off gambling won money.
Thomas’s face was clearer in his mind than it had been. He’d often wondered if it had ever started to fade from his memory- if the Thomas that he imagined and that came to him in his dreams was different than the Thomas he’d really known, if his own expectations and warped memories had recreated him. Now when he blinked he saw the image of the man in the corner of the boxing ring reflected like it had been tattooed on the back of his eyelids. He pulled his coat closer around him and breathed out a huff that turned into steam in front of him in the cold air.
When he got to the hotel he stood outside and lit a cigarette in his numb, shaking fingers. The smoke warmed him up and it tasted good. At first he hadn’t cared much for the taste but he’d soon grown fond of it. He told himself it was a lark- taking up smoking. But deep down he knew that it was much more than that- it was a memento. Not that he needed one. He’d never forget. The strained smile on Thomas’s face when he’d nodded at Jimmy as his form of silent goodbye before turning out the door- carrying all his worldy possessions in two thin briefcases. Jimmy had never felt such a deep sense of desperation as he had had in that moment. Because he knew what he was doing was wrong. To let Thomas walk away was wrong. But he’d stood still even with every nerve in his body willing him forward, willing him to speak, he’d stood still and kept his mouth shut. He dreamt about it some nights- dreams where he was paralyzed and his mouth was stuck shut with glue and he could only watch Thomas turn away from him and fade out.
Jimmy shivered and took a long drag. After that day, he’d started to feel an emptiness within himself that nothing seemed to ease. It wasn’t a dramatic feeling of sadness or grief like losing a parent. It was just a gnawing feeling of absence, of regret, and in a certain sense, of loss.
Before Thomas had kissed him in his sleep, he’d known he was attracted to him. Attracted to Thomas’s beauty, and his mind, and his sharp tongue, and the way he looked at Jimmy as if he saw in him everything Jimmy wanted to be and everything he was afraid to be.
He’d fancied him. Privately, of course. It always had to be privately. Because Jimmy would never dare admit that he was attracted to someone of the same sex. He’d determined that a long time ago. And though it thrilled him everytime Barrow’s hands lingered on him a little longer than was proper or said something on the borderline of flirtation, it scared him too. He feared someone would notice his arousal or even just notice that he didn’t protest- that they’d make the connection and realize that Jimmy was “not quite as he should be.” In his whole life Jimmy had tenaciously tried to force himself to love women- to fit in with his school friends, to fit in with the men of his platoon, to keep his job for god’s sake. He thought the more he pretended, eventually someday he would start believing it. Sadly, he’d discovered it didn’t work that way. He could try all he liked to touch himself at night while forcing images into his mind of naked breasts, long hair, and rouged cheeks, but the only thing that could bring him off were the exact thoughts he’d tried so hard to force down- of the handsome paper boy and the plane of skin revealed when the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, or of his mate at school when he’d seen him naked in the changing room, or even Rudy Valentino. Then he’d come and feel so ashamed of himself that he’d determine to try harder the next day, maybe take the girl who’d fancied him out for a date, try it on with her, anything to rid himself of the feeling that he was dirty, and different, and alone.
But he’d never met someone as brave as Thomas Barrow. He’d met other men who were like him in that they were open about the way they were. But none seemed to do so, in Jimmy’s opinion, with such a strong, and frankly unapologetic, grace as Thomas. Because there was nothing lavender about Mr.Barrow- as much as Jimmy had wracked his brain trying to think of ways in which Thomas was somehow different, he wasn’t. He was a man. And no less so for liking other men. And it nearly intimidated Jimmy how much he envied him for his courage.
Is that why you ruined him? Jealousy? he’d thought that often enough. He’d become a puzzle to himself, he’d go over again and again wondering why he hadn’t done something to stop himself from getting Thomas fired, sent out of the house he’d worked in long before Jimmy was ever around, without a place to go. It wasn’t jealousy, though. It was self preservation. Jimmy knew that. And hated himself all the more for it. It wasn’t that he didn’t think self preservation was a good trait. Even if it meant throwing other’s over, Jimmy had always prided himself on being able to weasel his way in and out of situations but in this case, in his heart, he knew he’d been wrong- because he’d hurt someone he’d cared for. Someone who’d understood him, been kind to him even if he wasn’t a kind person by nature, someone Jimmy might’ve even grown to love if he’d known him longer. And yet he’d pretended that he didn’t want something that really he had wanted. All to avoid getting caught. All to avoid having to admit to himself that he wanted Thomas to kiss him, wanted Thomas to like him.
He threw the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with his toe.
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The guests filling up the ballroom were in masquerade attire. Jimmy saw through his own reflection in one of the mirrors that made up the walls of the room that he too was wearing a black domino mask over his eyes like most of the other men. He was sure it was a room in the Anstruther’s…. but it wasn’t quite like any room he’d ever been in before, really. He’d never been someplace with so many mirrors. The thought only lingered briefly as his attention was caught by a figure moving through the crowd of whirling, dancing, bodies. The man Jimmy looked at was in a black suit and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the dancers because his was the only face in the room that wasn’t obscured by a mask or feathers or lace. And with nothing to hide his features his cold blue eyes locked with Jimmy’s across the room and with a slight turn of his lips he began to cross over to him. Jimmy stood still, watching him walk at a leisurely pace through the crowd, moving without ever averting his gaze from Jimmy, yet with effortless grace avoiding every other person- sometimes narrowly- as they turned and swayed all about him without ever noticing his prescence.
“Thomas…” Jimmy said when the man had finally reached him.
“James.” Thomas said, a mischevious glimmer in his eye as he bowed his head once.
“You’re not in costume. Didn’t anyone tell you it was a masquerade ball?” Jimmy asked with a sigh.
“Not for me.” Thomas said, his expression sombering slightly.
Jimmy blinked and the crowd had dissapeared. It was just himself and Thomas in an empty, silent, hall of mirrors.
Jimmy’s hands went up to his mask, smoothing it closer to his face and adjusting it back in place but Thomas strolled over to the gramophone. He looked up at Jimmy and smiled.
“They’re playing our song.” he said quietly before placing the needle on the record. A bittersweet melody echoed loudly throughout the room. The singer began “Because of all there is between us-“. The record player made a slight scratching noise and then the song started again. “Because of all there is between us-“ Again and again repeating from the beginning.
Jimmy winced, putting his hands over his ears.
“Stop it, Thomas!” Jimmy gasped, feeling like his head would split open if the music kept playing, repeating over and over and over again….
“I can never give you what you want!” he cried out, exasperated, “I’m- I’m not brave like you! I’m a coward! So just stop-“
The very dimensions of the room silently changed around him as he stood, becoming narrower and longer as if it had been squeezed tightly. The mirrors came so close that they were on either side of him, touching each shoulder. And Thomas and the gramophone only got farther away, down a corridor made of his own reflection.
“Th-Thomas, wait!” Jimmy gasped, pushing his way through the corridor, breaking into a run but Thomas’s figure only grew more and more distant and smaller. “I have to tell you-“
In an instant the room burst open once more back to its original dimensions, and Jimmy felt fingertips brushing the back of his neck. When he whirled around Thomas was standing behind him as if he’d been there all along, smiling patiently. Thomas calmly removed the mask from Jimmy’s face and brushed his hair out of his eyes.
“Thomas, I…” Jimmy started, swallowing hard. Thomas leaned in and kissed Jimmy on the lips once, chastely.
When he pulled away he whispered. “You have to wake up now, Jimmy.”
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Jimmy woke up in the dingy flat he’d been renting for the last 6 months with an empty bottle of gin under his pillow.
No sooner had he wiped the sleep from his eyes when there was a loud banging on his door and his landlady’s scratchy voice hollering, “Mr.Kent! Are you in, Mr.Kent?!”
Jimmy sighed, pulling himself reluctantly out of bed and kneeling down next to his suitcase. Half a year he’d been in the apartment and all of his few worldly belongings were still packed in two bags, leaving the closets and dresser empty.
“MR.KENT!!!” the landlady screeched, her banging on the door causing sawdust to crumble from the ceiling.
“Alright already, you cow…” Jimmy muttered under his breath, fishing through the clothes in his suitcase down to where he kept his money… then inhaled sharply. “….Oh.”
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That night Jimmy showed up later to the boxing ring than he normally did- missing the earlier fights with the more well known boxers, but a few minutes before Thomas usually appeared.
The bell clanged and two boxers climbed onto either end of the ring. The scattered crowd- mostly stragglers from the previous fights, men too drunk to be eager to get into a cab, or husbands avoiding going home to their wives maybe- shouted with various levels of enthusiasm. Jimmy craned his neck to get a glimpse of the ring but neither of the men were familiar to him.
He took a step back, lowering himself off his tip toes.
“Jimmy?”
He looked up. Thomas was making his way across the crowd. He looked more than ever like the Thomas that Jimmy remembered, the Thomas who visited him in his dreams. He was wearing a black suit and a red tie, his face was shaven, his hair was slicked back. Though he had a dark purple bruise on one cheek which was the one thing that brought Jimmy back to the reality that he was awake.
And with that realization Jimmy turned on his heel and broke into a run towards the door.
“Jimmy! Oi- wait!”
He pushed people aside, elbowing his way through the crowd until he reached the door, his heart hammering in his ears.
“Jimmy! I just want to-“
he was surprised at how close Thomas’s voice sounded and broke into a sprint again across the sidewalk and without thinking out into the road.
The oncoming car honked and for a moment Jimmy was blinded by it’s headlights. Instead of moving he put his arms infront of his face to sheild his eyes from the light. He heard a screech of wheels turning on a black iced road and all of a sudden felt his whole body yanked back with great force by the back of his jacket.
The car’s wheels nearly brushed against the edge of his toes still hanging over the side of the sidewalk as he fell back against Thomas’s body.
He looked back, dumbfounded, still blinking in shock.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thomas asked breathlessly. Kneeling beside Jimmy he could see his features clearly. His cheeks were pink from the cold and his breath was coming out in soft puffs of steam. There was a light spattering of freckles on his left cheekbone- the one that wasn’t bruised.
Jimmy swallowed. He’d saved his life. Even when Jimmy had ruined his. He shakily got to his feet, noticing that Thomas’s grip on his arm tightened slightly as he stood up.
“Are you alright?” Thomas asked quietly.
Jimmy nodded stiffly.
“I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you off.” Thomas said, abruptly dropping his hand from Jimmy’s arm and averting his eyes to the pavement.
“Did you not fight tonight so you could catch me?” Jimmy asked, trying to keep his voice level.
Thomas’s eyes flew up to meet Jimmy’s, lighting up at the sound of his voice.
“No…” Thomas started but then looked back down, smiling sheepishly, “Well… Yes, and no… Didn’t fight because I was smarting a bit from last time. But I showed up anyway ‘cos I was hoping to see you.”
“Why?”
Thomas looked back up at Jimmy, meeting his gaze this time with no hesitation.
“Why do you keep coming to see my fights?”
“I…” Jimmy didn’t know where to start. Because I’m probably in love with you and I dream about you constantly and you haunt my every waking moment?
He sighed, passing his hand over his face. He looked up at Thomas once more, trying not to flinch or look away.
“Let me buy you a drink. Do you know any place quiet we can go?”
Thomas’s laugh came out in a puff of smoke and Jimmy was struck by how he’d assumed for the last two years that he would never see Thomas smile again.
“It’s two in the morning- everyplace is quiet.” he answered, the smile still lingering on his mouth.
There were carolers outside of the bar Thomas led Jimmy to, singing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. It was warm inside and a fireplace was still roaring in the center of the room.
Thomas ordered them each a pint as Jimmy slid into a booth at the back of the room, away from any people still lingering by the bar.
“Is the family spending the holidays in London?” Thomas asked when he sat down across from Jimmy. He was smiling even more brightly than before as if he was the fucking spirit of Christmas, not a man who’d been fired by that same family and was making money getting the shit kicked out of him.
“I don’t work for the Crawleys anymore.” Jimmy said flatly, unable to match Thomas’s good cheer. “I quit six months ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Thomas said hesitantly and Jimmy glared at him.
“Well it wasn’t your bloody fault.”
“That’s good. I thought maybe it was because of rumors.” Thomas said with a shrug, ignoring the bite in Jimmy’s tone. “You get caught being kissed by a bloke, people might talk and all.”
“Is that your idea of breaking the ice?” Jimmy snapped between gritted teeth.
Thomas lit a cigarette.
“Where do you work now?” Thomas asked.
Jimmy shrugged. “I don’t really. I gamble a lot. That’s how I make any money I’ve got.”
Thomas looked amused and Jimmy ducked his head.
“And what about you? Is there good money in boxing?” Jimmy asked bitterly, though he knew he was the one who had no reason to be bitter.
“Not much.” Thomas answered with a shrug, “And the places I fight, you only get paid if you win. Which at first was almost never. Now I rarely pick a fight that I lose.”
He blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“But that’s only some nights. In the daytime I move crates on the docks. And in the evenings, I bartend at a place a few blocks from here.”
Jimmy stared at the knots in the wood of the table they were sitting at and tried to keep his lips tightly shut as words gone unspoken for the last two years threatened to spill out all at once.
“I’m sorry.” he finally managed, without looking up.
Thomas took a drink of his beer. “I’m sorry too. We’re both sorry so let’s just call it even.”
“ThomasI’mahomosexual.”
the words came out all in a bunch so fast that Thomas raised an eyebrow at him and said “Say again?”
Jimmy sighed, rubbing his temples.
“I’m… Thomas, I’m… I’m like you. I like… men.” Jimmy stammered under his breath, eyes darting around the room nervously.
Finally he looked to the other man for his reaction. Thomas was calmly tapping his cigarette in an ashtray on his side of the table.
The carolers outside sang “Noel, noel, noel, born is the king of Israel….”
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Jimmy hissed.
“Well, obviously that was my suspicion in the first place so is it really appropriate for me to act shocked?” he asked with so much nonchalance that Jimmy wanted to throttle him.
“But I-. Don’t you see? I-I had you thrown out for being the same as me and-“ Jimmy halted, breathlessly, unable to form words in his frustration.
Thomas was silent, as if he was allowing Jimmy to compose himself.
Finally Thomas said, “I tried to be angry with you. At first. I kept thinking ‘god, I’ve gone soft. A few years ago if someone had tried to out me I would’ve at the very least dragged them down with me, no matter how good looking they were.’ I thought about telling Carson that you’d kissed me back- that we’d been having a secret romance for months before Alfred walked in.” he laughed once, running his thumb around the edge of the ashtray mindlessly, “But… I couldn’t muster the spite to do that. Not to you.”
“…and why not?” Jimmy asked, holding his breath.
He watched Thomas’s face for just one barely perceivable moment take on an expression of overwhelming sadness. Before he forced the corners of his lips back up again and muttered in response “You know why...”
Jimmy’s chest burned with a deep, stinging pain that felt renewed after months of being almost a dull ache before he’d seen Thomas again.
“It shouldn’t be like this…” Jimmy said, shaking his head. “It’s… wrong. Our lives- they shouldn’t be like this.”
We should’ve been together, he thought.
“We weren’t meant for this, Thomas. I know it.” he looked into the man’s eyes, “Ever since you left Downton, my life’s stopped. Like everything’s frozen and I can’t move forward.”
Thomas didn’t speak and Jimmy felt on the verge of tears. Tears of frustration that Thomas couldn’t understand him, tears of grief for the life he should’ve led, tears of relief that he’d found him again and have a second chance to be true to himself.
“It’s because of you, Thomas. My life can’t move forward because I wasn’t meant to go on living without you.” He realized his hands were on the table and he was leaning almost fully across it now. But Thomas didn’t move. His cigarette was burning away to ash in his hand.
“Thomas, I-“
“Don’t.” Thomas said. All the false cheer and nonchalance from his face was gone. He looked like he’d aged several years in the span of a few moments. He looked exhausted and pale. He spoke slowly, drawing out every word, “I don’t want to be pitied. Least of all by you.”
Jimmy fell back into his seat.
“Pity? You think I pity you? Didn’t you hear a word of what I’ve just said?!”
“Jimmy…. I think you really believe what you’re saying.” Thomas said, “But I can tell you why your life can’t move forward- it’s because you feel guilty.”
He put his cigarette out in the tray.
“But I’m telling you that you don’t have to feel like that.” his eyes met Jimmy’s, “Because if I’d done what you did to me, I wouldn’t have felt guilty.”
Thomas stood up but Jimmy leapt to his feet as well and grabbed Thomas by the arm, looking him in the face.
“But you didn’t do anything to me.” Jimmy hissed under his breath. “Even when you would’ve to anyone else- you said that. The same thing that stopped you from hurting me is what makes me feel guilty when otherwise I wouldn’t.”
Thomas tried to move but Jimmy tightened his grip on his arm, digging his fingernails against the fabric.
“I’m not half as good a person as you think me, Thomas. And I say that knowing you probably don’t think very highly of me after what I’ve done.” his voice had become strong and insistent now but Thomas still refused to meet his eyes, “And I know you’re no saint either but you’ve been good to me. And me alone.”
“I don’t have anything to give you, Jimmy.” Thomas said quietly. “They gave you a reference when you left Downton, didn’t they? Well use it. Get a job and move on with your life.”
He uncurled Jimmy’s fingers from his arm and walked out of the pub, leaving Jimmy standing still in shock.
The room was silent but the muffled sounds of the carolers singing “Gloria in excelsis deo.”
After several moments he sat back down in his seat and downed the rest of his pint in one gulp.
He walked outside, not even feeling the cold and began walking to the bar near his flat. He ordered a whiskey. And then another. And then he stopped remembering how much he’d drunk or what of.
The loudest, rowdiest, drunks in the bar were singing “O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, your branches green delight us” off key.
Jimmy briefly joined in with them and attempted to play the piano to accompany but found his fingers didn’t move at all the way he wanted them to and eventually he just slumped on the piano bench, nearly falling asleep before the bartender slapped his back to wake him.
“I hate Christmas!” Jimmy shouted loudly raising his arms above his head. Other drunks cheered for this, probably without realizing what he was saying.
“M’all alone, me.” Jimmy slurred to the bartender, “Pour me another, eh?”
“You haven’t payed for the last three yet.”
Jimmy frowned and began feeling his pockets.
“Oh.” he hiccuped more than said, “That’s because I haven’t got any money... Do you have any mulled wine? Seasonal an’ all…”
The bartender sighed in exasperation and began steering Jimmy toward the door.
“Oi! Y’can’t kick me out.” Jimmy said, slapping his hand off him, “I’m a boxer, me. Put up your dukes.”
He giggled, putting his fists infront of him.
“Now, don’t make trouble.” The bartender said patiently.
“I’ll beat ya. Knock you out flat, mate.” Jimmy said swooping in and out of the bartender’s reach as he tried to grab him to push him out the door. But in his drunken stupor his balance was off and he stumbled backward until a hand fell on his back, holding him steady.
“I’m sorry for my friend. I’ll take him home.”
Jimmy broke into a grin, leaning his weight on the man behind him. “Thomasssss,” he chirped happily, “Do you come here often?”
Thomas steered Jimmy out the door and back out onto the cold streets where it was starting to snow again. Jimmy could barely see for his bangs kept obscuring his view and he had to push them out of his eyes.
The cold air sobered up Jimmy slightly. But only enough to eliminate the gleeful high put on by the alcohol and he stopped abruptly, wrestling his arm free from Thomas’s grip.
“Whatcher doing here?” he demanded.
Thomas rolled his eyes impatiently. “Trying to get you home safely. A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”
“You follow me?” Jimmy huffed.
“Yes.” Thomas said between gritted teeth.
“Why?”
“I just wanted to make sure you got home safe. I didn’t want you doing anything stupid.”
“Why would I do something stupid?” Jimmy snapped.
“Well you almost ran right into traffic earlier tonight.” Thomas pointed out calmly.
“You’re the one who tried to kiss me in my sleep!” Jimmy hollered as loud as he could. Thomas jumped forward, grabbing Jimmy by the lapels of his jacket to keep him from falling backwards and clamp a hand over his mouth.
“Shh! Don’t shout about that!” Thomas looked around nervously but no one was stopping to arrest them. “You bloody idiot…”
Jimmy pushed away Thomas’s hand and gave the other man a hard shove away from him.
“Don’t call me an idiot, you. big. POOF!” Jimmy shouted loud enough that it echoed through the alleyway they stood next to.
“Shut up.” Thomas was giving him his most menacing glare.
“Make me.” Jimmy tugged on the edge of Thomas’s sleeve, pulling him closer. “Go on. Hit me if ya’ like. Show me the ol’ famous right hook.”
Thomas shook his head. His face showed nothing but pity now and it made Jimmy’s blood boil. Thomas turned away, walking from him down the street.
“Come back! Come back here and fight me!” he shouted after him desperately.
Jimmy knelt down in the snow and grabbed a bunch of it in his hands, packing it into a ball and lobbing it at Thomas’s back. It hit his shoulder, leaving a white mark on his jacket but he kept walking without pause. Jimmy grabbed another, larger, handful of snow and threw it with as much force as he could at the back of Thomas’s head. It hit him and the other man stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel.
“What, is wrong with you?!” he yelled from halfway down the block.
Jimmy responded by throwing another snowball, hitting him directly in the face.
Thomas seethed for a moment before kneeling down in the snow, using two hands to pack it together and throwing a snowball back at Jimmy which hit him square in the jaw. The ice slipped down his neck, getting underneath his clothes.
Thomas advanced on him with another already in his hand and from a few feet away threw it hard at Jimmy’s chest where it soaked into his shirt and knocked him back a bit.
He was panting, standing over Jimmy. His hair had fallen out of place and his nose was red from cold.
“Are you demented?!” Thomas shouted. “I would’ve done anything for you! And now you say you want me?!”
His lips were trembling as he spoke but Jimmy could feel his own lips shaking too- from the cold, he told himself vaguely.
“I would’ve lived on the streets if it meant things could’ve gone better for you! If it had been what you wanted! And you just- you just throw it away?!” Thomas sighed and knelt down on the sidewalk next to Jimmy, resting his forehead on his hand. “All this time… I thought about you. It never stopped. I wanted so much for you to be happy. That’s… I’ve never felt that way about anyone before. I thought it would go away with time but everyday I’d wake up and wonder what you were doing. And I’d tell myself it was alright because you were better without me and it was better for me to be without you if you’d never love me.”
To his horror Jimmy felt tears streaming down his face and he wasn’t sure when exactly he’d started crying but they were starting to freeze on his cheeks. He grabbed Thomas by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into the snowbank with him. It wasn’t the way of a proper Englishman to hug. But Jimmy wrapped his arms around Thomas’s shoulders and held him.
“I was so scared…” Jimmy said, his voice cracking. “When Alfred walked in… I was more scared than I’d been since the war… maybe even more than that, I don’t know…”
Thomas’s hand had found its way to Jimmy’s back and was rubbing him gently between his shoulderblades.
“I was scared… of anyone finding out. I didn’t want to be different.” he sobbed, his hands clutching at Thomas desperately, “I didn’t want to be alone.”
“I know.” Thomas said in his ear. His breath was warm. It made him realize how cold the rest of his own body was comparatively.
“But then afterwards I felt more alone than I ever had in my whole life.” he was gulping air and trembling all over. The snow underneath him was beginning to seep into his clothes, freezing him. “I was scared you’d forgotten me. And fallen in love with someone else. I thought I was all alone.” his voice broke again and he buried his face against the warmth of Thomas’s chest and began sobbing uncontrollably until he was hiccuping and felt he might vomit.
Thomas helped him to his feet, putting an arm around his shoulders to steady him.
“S’alright… I’ll get a cab.” Thomas said.
Jimmy didn’t remember Thomas hailing the cab. He wouldn’t have seen it anyway with his face firmly pressed against Thomas’s shoulder. He could feel snow falling gently on the exposed nape of his neck and he could hear carolers pass by singing It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.
“Beneath the heavenly hymn have rolled, two thousand years of wrong, and man at war with man, hears not, the love-song which they bring, O hush the noise ye men of strife, and hear the angels sing….”