Chapter Text
Outside his window, the snow was turned to greyish slush, and spat out from vehicles as they sped by. Everything this Christmas seemed half-baked.
He was a half-hour away from his parent’s house and he felt so completely out of his depth. They hadn’t even had a chance to needle him with questions, and he was already plucking up lies.
How was he supposed to tell them he’d broken up with Quinn. For all they knew, they were happily approaching a sixth month anniversary.
George’s smile had long since settled into a grimace and he turned his eyes away from the grey of outside.
Stuffed in seats too small for winter coats, the Christmas eve passengers of the train all looked similarly pleased to be on public transport. George focused first on two red-faced children, sausaged into blue and red puffy jackets, noses running rampant. He cringed and moved on to who he assumed was their father.
The man was leaning away and whispering harshly into his phone, eyebrows drawn down. Holidays sure did bring people together.
Finally, George let his eyes fall on his seatmate. He had his hood up and a scarf up to his straight nose. He was staring intently at his phone, swiping quickly. George leaned a little into his space and saw a rapidly assembling playlist. He squinted to make out the title:
Possessed by the demon called Christmas
George let out a puff of air, barely a laugh, but the man turned his head.
He fixed George with an amused stare, the corners of his eyes crinkling. They were surrounded by blonde-tipped eyelashes and George knew he was staring too.
“That’s festive.” He pointed down at the stranger’s phone.
“It’s the truth.” He had pulled his scarf down and George grinned. He was American.
“It is a bit demonic isn’t it? Cultish.”
“Very. And I’m thoroughly indoctrinated. You?” The man replied.
“Not especially. Consider me a non-believer.”
“What?” The stranger’s face contorted in a sort of disbelief. “I mean I get it, fuck the capitalist machine, but really?”
“I don’t hate it. I just...”
The man seemed to really look at him then, and George turned away, feeling seen. “There’s got to be something about it that you like.”
George mulled it over. “Sure. Yeah.” Silence followed and he went on. “I like watching other people love Christmas.” He felt warmth spread over his cheeks and smoothed a hand down his jacket. “Like, seeing some kid staring at a toy display. I like that.”
“You’re a people watcher.”
“Well.” George was taken-aback. “If you want to call it that. Yes.”
There was a quiet, pleased sounding laugh, and the stranger leaned back into the seat. “Honest too. Where are you headed? I can’t imagine stalking people is the only thing on your schedule.”
“Hold on!” George said indignantly. “Stalking? Stalking is not on the table.”
“Fine then. Plans?”
George debated lying for only a second. “I’m visiting my parents.” He said.
“And you sound so happy about that!” His eyes were green. And he was laughing at him.
George scowled a little but couldn’t keep an uneasy smile from brimming up. “Yes, well.” He let out a breath. “It’s just that I think it’s going to be a very disappointing Christmas for them.”
“How so?”
“They’re expecting to meet my partner.”
“The man looked pointedly at the seat he was occupying. “Invisible?”
“Cheater.”
“Invisible would be less disappointing. You should go with that.”
George had half a heart to push the man into the aisle, but he laughed instead. “Right. Will do. I’m George by the way, since we’re baring our souls and all that.”
“Clay.”
--
“Doesn’t it suck how we can want to run from our families but impress them at the same time?”
George lifted his head from the game he was tapping at. Clay had his head tipped back, and George had thought he’d fallen asleep. “I don’t want to impress mine.” George replied.
“You do, a little.” Clay needled, a grin poking up.
“With my invisible significant other.” George groaned
“That’s pretty impressive to me! The first invisible person and you’re dating them.”
“Was. Was dating them.”
“Oh god, are you still hung up on it?” Clay’s smile quickly turned to disbelief and George wanted to duck and hide.
“It was six months.”
“In an entire life-time! You’re not a disappointment just because one relationship fucked you over.” George met Clay’s intense stare, unsure what to do with all this unbridled good intention.
He huffed a breath and turned to look out the window, which was altogether less aneurysm inducing. The city had faded to farmland, wide and expansive and covered in patchwork snow. George’s eye followed down a laneway where it split two fields, catching only a glimpse of the brown barn at its end.
“I just hate the way I know they’re going to look at me. All this anticipation, and I’m alone.” George said finally.
“You’re not. You’ve got them, right?”
George let that depressing thought hang in the air. At least he’d always have Mum and Dad. God. And when he was 40 and alone still, daddy and mumsy would still be there. He cringed.
“And what about you, Clay? Isn’t there some obscenely large Christmas tree you need to be decorating?”
“Because I’m American? Ha.”
George turned to fix Clay with a deadpan stare. “Well?”
“I’m on my way to a meeting actually.”
George’s mouth dropped open a little as he took in his seatmate. Clay, in his green puffer jacket and disgustingly plaid scarf. “What, like for work? On Christmas eve?” He didn’t look like the sort to be working through the holidays.
“It’s on the 28th actually, but Christmas flights are cheaper, so I made a trip out of it.”
“Since when are flights cheaper?”
“I dunno. I don’t book my own flights, that’s just what they told me.”
George’s surprise turned sour. “What the fuck?” Clay at least had the sense to look embarrassed. “You don’t-“ Clay’s backpack was discarded at his feet, slowly soaking up the melted snow on the train floor. “Who are you?”
“Clay, I already told you that.” His smile was sheepish.
“Geez, no wonder you don’t know about being a disappointment. You probably just have someone to do all that for you.” George’s brows were drawn down and he quickly turned back to his window. He liked the window, it didn’t surprise him.
“No, I’m afraid it’s my exclusive honor to disappoint my own parents.” Clay’s voice was even, but there was something missing. Humor, George thought.
There was silence for a while before George felt something tap his shoulder. He turned to stare at the proffered earbud, tinny Christmas music echoing out into the train compartment. Clay held it out to him like some token of apology and George took it reluctantly.
Snow’s coming down,
I’m watching it fall,
Lots of people around,
Baby please come home.
Clay’s face was turned to his phone, but George caught the smile. It was small and private, like they shared a joke between them. George closed his eyes and let the song play, warmth spreading across his chest like pins and needles.
George cleared his throat a little. “Sorry for being a dick.”
“Sorry for being an ass.” Clay returned.
George laughed a little at that and tipped his head to look at Clay. He was staring back, and his face was so open. It was like he had nothing on his mind except this, right now. George felt at once seen and insignificant.
Was this something that happened often, did Clay play therapist to all his seatmates? Maybe that was his job that set up flights and meetings during Christmas. George smiled.
“I can’t say I know what it’s like to be cheated on, but I get it. The disappointment thing.” Clay spoke slowly. “Every time I go home, they tell me it’s So Okay that I’m not in a relationship.”
“And why aren’t you?” George asked. Maybe he could take his turn as therapist. Or maybe he just wanted a little schadenfreude.
“It’s just not for me. Marriage is a sham. Dating is like getting the life sucked out of you and smiling about it.” Clay offered with a shrug. He was grinning, but George didn’t think he was kidding.
“Wow. And I’m the weird one cause I don’t like Christmas.”
“You are.” Clay nodded seriously, the ghost of a smile creeping up. “I mean c’mon, do you even know any happily married people?”
“My Mom and Dad.” George narrowed his eyes.
“So that’s why you’re all freaked out about bringing someone home to them.”
“What? This is so not about me.” The dulcet tones of Mariah Carey created a sort of discordant backing tack and it only made George frown further.
“Sure it is. You’re afraid you’ll never find what they have.”
“And you’re afraid that you will!” George plucked the earbud out of his ear and dropped it in Clay’s lap.
Clay picked it back up and shoved it in his direction. “No. You don’t get to tune out of this. I’ll shut up, but the Christmas hypno-therapy stays on.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just wanna see my baby
Standing right outside my door
The rest of the train ride was underscored with an ever-changing playlist of Christmas music, and the wash of train noise. It was hard to pinpoint what the sounds were, but there was a sort of rushing and wooshing and the shift of Clay’s jeans where they brushed his own. He was still tapping away at his phone, and George imagined the playlist was well into the hundreds now.
George gripped the shared armrest tightly as the train clunked to a halt. Without even realizing, he’d reached his stop. He blinked and stood a little awkwardly, stooping under the overhead baggage and looking to Clay. “Erm, this is my stop.” He said quietly, dislodging the earbud and handing it back.
“Oh, of course.” Clay slid out of his seat and George squeezed past him into the aisle. “George,”
George stopped pulling at his luggage where it was caught behind the barrier. “Yes?” He replied.
“I’m sorry. I come on pretty strong.” Clay said, still standing, head knocking against the low ceiling.
“No, it’s really fine.” George said, looking him over again. He was more awkward like this, half-bent and apologetic. Any air of rich asshole that George had gotten earlier seemed gone for a second. “You know, I’m sure your parents feel lucky to have you. Seriously.” He said.
“And yours don’t?”
“I’m not…I’m not all that.” I’m not you, he wanted to say.
“Sure, you’re not, George.”
George looked away and gave a final tug at his luggage. It pried free and he stumbled back to ease it to the floor.
“I’ll think good thoughts for you in the New Year.” Clay said, and if that wasn’t a hallmark card.
“God, my mother would love you.” George laughed, squeezing the handle of his case a little tighter as an idea seized him.
“They usually do.” Clay said, arching an eyebrow. “Hard not to like all this.”
George turned away, a smile gripping him. He started down the compartment a few steps then stopped. “Come home with me.”
“What?”
“Look. I know you don’t know me. I don’t even know if you swing this way, but just…” George pursed his lips for a minute. “I can’t deal with the look on their faces. Just be my boyfriend for one night.”
“Oh my god.” Clay was laughing. At him.
George took a step back toward him. “Look, what are you gonna do? Spend Christmas at some Holiday Inn? You’re going to be at a meeting, and then probably a plane home during New Years. Don’t you want a nice home-cooked meal?”
Clay wasn’t laughing anymore. He was just staring. George stared back and felt his face heat, sure he was blushing.
“It’s the right thing to do.” George supplied.
“Is it?”
“Okay, well. It’s just a little white-lie. And it’s just perfect. You’re American, you’re going home in a week. We can break up after all this and that’s that.”
Clay hummed a second, clearly turning over the possibility of spending Christmas with a crazy person. George bit his lip.
“Fine. And for the record, I do swing that way.”