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I wake from a nap at 9pm - my sleep pattern is, as always, a mystery to everybody, myself included. It takes a few moments for me to figure out where I am, and what year it is. And then I notice it: a soft song, ethereal, almost haunting. I know the voice. I know exactly where it’s coming from.
I tiptoe through the hall, making as much effort as possible in my still-sleepy state to avoid every creaky floorboard.
When I reach Jimmy’s room, I find Rowan on the floor outside. His eyes are closed and he’s leaning his head back against the door, noiselessly mouthing along to the words of the Christmas carol emanating from the bedroom. I sit silently beside him, and he opens his eyes and turns to face me. He smiles at me, but there’s the slightest glimmer of sadness behind his eyes - it’s a look I know well lately.
“What’s happening?” I whisper.
“He’s calling his grandad.” He gently replies. “He’s been singing carols for his grandparents on Christmas Eve since he was like eight. Did he never mention?”
He didn’t, actually. There’s quite a lot I don’t know about both of the boys, things they’ve known of each other since before I met them, things they confided in all the years they’ve been closer than I can ever hope to be. They’ve included me more since that shitty summer, but there are still aspects of their bond I can never hope to replicate.
“It must suck.” Rowan continues, “Not being there in person this year. I wish there was some way around it.”
“This year sucks in general.” I murmur in response. “It’s weird. I miss you guys every Christmas when we’re at home, but… I d’know. I wish we could’ve gone.”
Jimmy begins another song, and my breath catches in my throat. Unlike Jimmy, I don’t believe in a God, but if I did I’m sure He’d sound something like this. There has always been something about Jimmy that makes me think he belongs to the angels. Not that I’ve ever said that aloud - it was embarrassing enough to tell him I had feelings for him, let alone to let him know I think he’s heaven-sent.
“What song is this?”
“I can’t remember the name. We sang it in church when I was a kid.”
I nod slowly. “It’s beautiful.”
My knowledge of Christmas songs is pretty much limited to radio bops and the most basic carols you sing in primary school Christmas concerts. Anything more religious than Silent Night is beyond me.
I keep listening, Rowan and I in comfortable silence. I guess the upside to being trapped in London for Christmas this year is that we get to hear this performance, something neither of us have been witness to before. It feels like eavesdropping, but I can’t bring myself to tear myself away.
The song ends again, and I hear Jimmy clear his throat before starting O Holy Night. If I thought the last performance was godly, this one is positively rapturous. I can practically feel my soul leave my body.
Jimmy’s voice rings out bright and clear throughout the apartment, filling the halls with its poignant cadence. Against my will, a tear slides down my cheek. Ro slides his hand into mine and squeezes. Gratefully, I return the gesture.
I think I forget to breathe all the while Jimmy’s voice is surrounding us.
We hear Piero applaud as the song ends, and there’s some crackly audio of him thanking Jimmy for the show, wishing him a Merry Christmas and gushing about how much he misses him. The two of us don’t listen in to this bit, instead rising to our feet and traipsing through to the kitchen, where Rowan puts the kettle on. He makes three mugs of spiced tea, and hands me one, which I take in slightly shaking hands.
“He’ll be done in a few.” Ro murmurs, looking me up and down.
“Do you think he’s alright?”
Rowan shrugs. “You know how he gets when he misses Piero. I think we should probably stick with him for a bit.”
“Yeah.” I agree, nodding solemnly. It breaks my heart to think how sad Jimmy sounded at the end of the last song. “We could do a movie night? Plenty of Christmas films on.”
“ Muppet Christmas Carol is on Disney Plus. And Paddington 2 is on iPlayer. That’s a whole evening sorted.”
Jimmy potters quietly into the room, his eyes slightly red-rimmed.
“What are we talking about?”
“Christmas movie night. What do you think?”
He lets out a non-committal hum. “Might be nice.”
Jimmy rests his head on my shoulder and sighs. I take his hand under the table, and feel him relax ever-so-slightly. Rowan slides the third mug of tea across the countertop towards Jimmy, and then circles round to come and embrace us from behind. Something warm rises up within me, the comforting sense of being home.
I know we aren’t home. We haven’t been in months. Being stuck here instead of back with our families feels like the cherry on top of a bullshit sundae at the end of an all-round awful year. But honestly? If I had to be trapped anywhere, I’m glad it’s with these two.
“Come on, lads.” Rowan murmurs into the tops of our heads. “Let’s make the best of a bad situation.”
It’s all there really is to do in times like these.