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EIGHTEEN
October 6th 2020
James places the last candle on the cake, carefully pressing it down into the smooth dark chocolate icing next to the seventeen others.
“Eighteen. I can scarcely believe it,” he hums and Harry smiles at him from across the prep counter.
Tony has graciously let them rent out the Hutch for the evening. Catering and all services included , ‘With a thirty percent family discount,’ Harry had said proudly when he had suggested it to James during their romantic summer holiday in Croatia back in July.
And why not throw Romeo a big birthday bash? His only child turning eighteen and entering adulthood was worth celebrating after all. He had grown rather fond of the teenager, although he still finds it hard to express his affection for him in grander terms. But they both know what they mean to each other.
Earlier, during breakfast, he had made sure to instruct his son to show up at the Hutch for a family dinner at 6 pm. But in reality, it will be a surprise birthday party. All of Romeo’s friends are invited, James barely knows half of them. Even Tabby, the American great grandmother, whom Romeo has never met before, has flown in especially.
They’ll also be gifting his son a light blue authentic Italian Vespa. He and Harry picked it out in Manchester a few weeks back. So, no more driving Romeo around, he’s finally got his licence and is ready to go out on his own. Although James can’t help worrying about the hospital bills that might follow. Not to mention the insurance fees that will surely be piling up. The woes of fatherhood.
“It’s been two years now since he showed up,” James muses and takes a step back from the cake, admiring his fabulous decorative handiwork.
“Like yesterday, innit?” Harry says and comes to stand beside him after putting away the spare candles.
Thinking back to those days in late October two years prior, thoughts start to rumble around in James’s head. His boyfriend slides a hand down his back, offering support without even knowing it. Just Harry’s presence is comforting to him. Always has been.
He remembers how he had kept seeing the tall, dark-haired, teenager around the village, suddenly popping up all over the place. James even mistook him for a beggar outside the hospital once and then again outside his door.
Romeo bore a striking resemblance to himself in his early twenties but he didn’t think anything more of it. Why would he?
When they had partnered up to destroy Harry’s upcoming wedding, he discovered that the teenager had a flair for the dramatics just like himself. But in the end, James didn't have the strength to go through with exposing the affair in front of the whole village. Harry had begged him not to interfere, putting that paradox on him to let him go if James really cared about him. So he had cancelled the whole theatrical revenge plot because, yes, he did love Harry and that meant he had to take a step back.
He had gone home all alone and brokenhearted instead and cracked open a bottle of whiskey, downing it in large gulps from the neck. Romeo had shown up shortly after wanting the promised compensation for his efforts with the giftbag keyrings while James had been in a trance of pitiful heartache and sorrow, monologuing over losing the love of his life. And that’s when the shocking revelation had been exposed, knocking him for six.
Romeo was his son. His flesh and blood. The son he had no idea even existed. It was like a punch to the gut, like the ones his father had inflicted on him so many times in the past.
He had a son, a mirrored image of himself. A son his mother and father had hidden from him for sixteen years. It even turned out that the money he embezzled from his first law firm and framed an innocent man for in a desperate attempt to make Mac love him had been used to pay Donna-Marie to keep her mouth shut about him fathering her child.
The pain and nausea twist in his stomach thinking about that day. It’s been months since he last felt it. The memories of his sixteenth birthday will always haunt him in some way, no matter how far he buries them. The nightmare of it will never fully disappear. What his father had forced him to, what that vile woman forced him to will always remain a part of him and his son.
“Still..,” he mumbles, feeling uneasy, hands shifting by his sides, staring at the eighteen unlit candles. That something so innocent could come to life from such a horrid act?
The warm palm resting against his lower back shifts and finds its way into his hand, clasping around his sticky fingers smeared with flecks of icing. But Harry's hand stays put despite the mess. “She’s never coming back here. Alright? She made sure of that. Didn’t even have to get your hands dirty this time.”
Harry’s words echo somewhere in his head as he keeps staring at the birthday cake. It was the worst night of his life. It ruined his life. He had never been so scared. It also made him feel even more pathetic and weak, worried that his father would see it on him and hurt him worse than before.
The gentle touch of the familiar and soft hands cup around his cheeks, turning his face to the side. “Look at me,” Harry begs, voice laced with concern. It’s enough to make James snap out of his trance and lift his gaze. The blue eyes shining up at him are full of warmth. “They can never hurt you again. Okay?” Harry assures him and James nods in response, knowing the words to be true.
The concern that was etched on his boyfriend’s face quickly fades away and makes way for a soft smile, relief showing instead that Harry’s gotten through to him.
Finally, Mac and Donna-Marie can’t hurt him, or anyone he loves, ever again. After being duped into prison Donna-Marie had fallen into her old habits and spiralled even deeper. She had attacked and killed another inmate and injured a guard in some violent drug brawl earning herself an added sentencing of a lifetime in prison. She is never getting out of there.
Romeo had of course blamed him for it, seeing as James was the one who had tricked her into falsely confessing to Mac’s murder. Harry had defended him trying to get through to his step-son best he could. It was truly something to behold. No one had ever stuck up for him like that before and his heart had soared. To be loved with such passion, such strength, still left him speechless at times.
It was during the heated discussion with Romeo when James had tried to stop his son from telling Juliet about their mother’s forced incarceration, that the whole horrifying truth of the night of his sixteenth birthday had slipped out. Romeo found out the circumstances around his conception and the lengths Mac had gone to in his sick and twisted attempt at gay conversion therapy.
James never had any intention to ever tell his son the grisly details but the way Romeo kept going on, and on, defending his mother, James had finally snapped. He could tell that Harry was close to breaking point as well but still kept his promise to never talk of it until James was ready.
James had collapsed down on the sofa, perching on the edge, knot in his throat, and told Romeo of Donna-Marie’s true nature. When he felt too sick to get the words out Harry had taken over. It was enough to turn son against mother and leave her to rot in prison where she belongs.
“He’s a credit to ya, y’know?” Harry reassures him as if he can read his mind.
“He’s a credit to you ,” James counters, meaning every word of it.
He could never have been a father to Romeo without Harry’s continuous help and support. Those first few weeks living together on their own had been unbelievably awkward or ‘cringe’ as Juliet would say.
Harry moving in and becoming a part of the household had made all the difference. It bound them together, the five of them, as a unit, finding their roles in their very own motley crew.
With his mother, his son, his half-sister and the man he loves by his side: he finally feels accepted by a family. It’s their own little unconventional family and he has never been happier.
“We did it together,” Harry smiles up at him, optimistic and bright, always more than generous in his belief in him.
He studies the man before him, eyes trailing across the handsome face. Harry looks happy. It makes it easier to dig himself out of the dark void he’s so often found himself in. Harry’s made him believe he’s capable of love. Capable of having a family. Capable of making Harry happy, as happy as Harry is making him.
He recalls a fleeting moment two years ago before he found out that Romeo was his offspring. Seeing a reflection of his younger self had made him feel ancient, briefly making him wonder what Harry even saw in an old, bitter and twisted man like himself. But the wet lips and exploring hands and whispered promises of a future together pushed all those thoughts to the back of his mind whenever they met up for their incandescent affair.
Their affair is truly one of the highlights of his life but he can’t say he misses it. The turmoil he had found himself in during those three months: having Harry but not being allowed to have all of him had been excruciating and unbearable. Being so close to the one you love but still kept out of reach, gagged behind lock and key like a dirty little secret. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.
It seems so long ago now as they’re both standing in the Hutch kitchen together, happier than ever, finishing off the final preparations before the guests arrive for his son’s surprise birthday party. Their son, James smiles to himself. They raised him together.
It’s just the two of them in the restaurant. Tony and the rest of the staff will arrive shortly but for now, they get to have this quiet moment together before it all kicks off. A low hum of dance music is floating through the air around them, something Harry has picked out, knowing what kind of genres Romeo likes. It’s not all cause for ear ache, James too can appreciate the exhilarating beats that make clubbing fun.
Harry picks up the ladle from the dark chocolate icing pot, licking it clean while humming delightedly. It reminds James of the same icing that still sits sticky and annoying on his fingertips. He steps over to the little basin in the corner and washes his hands, drying them off on a rag before turning to face his boyfriend again.
Harry’s leaning against the prep counter, all dressed up. Casual smart: a pink button-down shirt and navy coloured suit. The late summer tan still lingers on his boyfriend’s silky skin. His hair is styled back and the neck James so enthusiastically was covering with wet kisses just a few hours ago in the shower, is perfumed with an extra spritz for the occasion.
Not only is Harry devastatingly gorgeous, but he’s also a good man. A good man with a beautiful soul. And that touch of darkness inside of him that James finds equally as captivating. There’s no one as special as Mr Thompson.
It’s almost funny how they’re both standing in the same exact spots as they did in 2016. Harry doesn’t look much older than he did back then but at the same time, he’s a different person now after all the hardships that life has put him through. But he is still the same man James has always loved: Harry Thompson, with all his glorious flaws.
Being there together in the Hutch kitchen takes him back to that day all those years ago: the day when James knew he had to have the young man that was standing in front of him, looking at him with those big blue searching eyes as James was helping Tony get full ownership of the restaurant and ruin Ste’s life.
He had seen Harry once before that: at the Bean, when James so elegantly had spit out the coffee he was drinking. It had gone back down into the cup and then he had offered it to an unknowing Cindy Cunningham. In the corner of his eye, he could tell that the stunning young man, who had so instantaneously caught his eye when he walked in, was watching him perform his antics, all the while trying to keep a straight face.
It wasn’t perhaps the ideal first impression on James’s part. Not that their second meeting made him any more popular for the object of his affection to be around.
“You know? First time we were properly introduced was in here, years ago now..,” he reminisces and saunters over to Harry. “You were arguing with Tony, you were clinging to Ste and I was just a smart alec lawyer.”
“Well, still are,” Harry ribs and wiggles his brows at him. James snorts and smiles. It’s true.
He remembers how his heart had skipped a beat watching Harry in that kitchen all those years ago. “Seeing the way you defended your man with such passion.. tenderness. I think I sensed it in that moment that you’d be a big part of my future.” There was something undeniably special about the young man that left him with a foreign feeling of hope. A feeling of home.
He couldn’t quite decipher it then, that it was love: love at first sight. He didn’t want to let himself acknowledge the depth of his feelings or he would have been at a disadvantage. He didn’t dare to think that someone, as damaged as him, could ever have it all. That someone like Harry could be his in every sense. So instead he had tried to make Harry his in the only way he knew how.
“And I thought you were a sleazy lawyer. Now I know you are,” Harry grins back at him, teeth showing his amusement.
Indeed, ‘Sleazy’ was more or less his middle name back then, that's also true. But James just knew he had to have Harry: somehow, someway, any way . That flicker of foolish romantic dreams reared its head as soon as Harry stepped into his life. And it made him hope that Harry could feel the same about him too one day.
“Well, I did try and make you mine in.. ehm.. less than a salubrious fashion .” He can't help but break out in a huge grin, laughing, head bowed. It was quite the time back then, so scandalously flirting and seducing Harry right under Ste’s nose.
“Mmm! Yeah, understatement of the decade!” Harry chimes, eyebrows raised high, and a finger pointing at him but there’s no anger there. Harry’s grinning just as much as James is. “You know? I was eighteen and a half when we did that. You were thirty,” his boyfriend reminds him. He remembers it well.
Their age difference never really bothered them, least of all Harry. Only eleven years separate them after all. For them it’s more an element for banter and teasing each other. It’s everyone else that seems to always have to make unsolicited comments about it in their presence.
“I’m almost inclined to say I’m ashamed. Almost. ” He doesn’t regret it. Although perhaps parts of it. Paying a young man for sex was textbook a terrible act. However, he didn’t coerce Harry into sleeping with him. He didn’t force him. But he did manipulate him in a way.
He knew that Harry and that useless street rat were homeless, unemployed and in desperate need of cash. And then, with a stroke of genius, he came swooping in, offering ten thousand pounds for one night of passion. Which in hindsight was an obscene amount of money for an act like that. It was ten, even twenty, times what he’s paid for sex before. But it was money that he knew was needed for a better life and a roof over their heads. Everyone has a price, after all, you just have to find the right buttons to push.
Harry made his choice willingly when he showed up at the flat, grabbing James’s hand and determinedly steering him off into the bedroom. James would never have slept with Harry without his consent, no matter how much he craved to feel the sensational young man’s body on top of his. No matter how ardently he wanted those full lips pressed fervently over his mouth and around his cock.
Harry bumps his shoulder against James’s upper arm, bringing him out of his reminiscing. “If you take all that stuff away, you know: the money, the cheating. The sex was..,” Harry trails off and raises his brows, giving James a pleased look.
“Sensational,” James fills in, remembering vividly how good it was. He’ll never forget it. It was almost shocking how eager Harry was to please him that night. He more than earned every penny.
“Yeah, was pretty mind-blowing to be fair. Kept having all these hot dreams about you, bout us, after, y’know?” Harry bites his lip, pausing for a beat as if he’s contemplating something. “And maybe one or two hot ones before,” Harry whispers, looking adorably coy.
James raises his brows, surprised by his boyfriend’s confession but thrilled to no end by the new revelation. “You’ve kept that quiet.”
“Didn’t wanna inflate that massive ego of yours even more, did I?” Harry chuckles, eyes twinkling in the bright kitchen lights. He’s glad they can talk about that night so candidly. They haven’t exactly had the most conventional love story.
James knows he played dirty. He used the situation to his advantage, getting what he wanted. And that was just those first few months of knowing Harry.
His whole life he has been less than ethical. He’s schemed and lied, tampered with evidence, consorted with blackmail and embezzlement, and picked up more rent boys than he cares to remember. He even pimped Harry out, albeit to keep Harry safe off the streets but it was still wrong.
He has broken the law on so many, too many, occasions. It's not something he's always very proud of, at least the acts done for the wrong reasons. Those are the things he does regret. It’s a miracle he’s not been caught and disbarred as of yet.
He turns to face Harry fully, needing to share what he’s thinking, or it’ll just stay simmering in his head and ruin Romeo’s big day. “Look.. I know I’ve made some horrible mistakes. I’ve done some terrible things but .. you .. make me hope.. that I can be someone better. Someone that you deserve.”
He never thought someone as good as Harry could ever love him. It’s the longest relationship James has ever had the pleasure of being in. And he knows he wants to be with Harry forever. He knew that right from the start, all those years ago.
They are coming up on their two-year anniversary on January 23rd, it’s just a couple of months away. He knows Harry keeps count too, even down to the number of days together, surprising him on random day anniversaries like their one-hundred-and-sixtieth and five-hundred-and-forty-first day, just to name a few.
Harry is, simply put, the best thing that has ever happened to him. The best thing in his life. He’s the light in the darkness that makes James feel strong and loved. And he hopes that one day he will be someone that Harry deserves because God knows Harry deserves the best.
Harry reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing into it. “Hey, I’m the lucky one. Okay? I love you, more than anything,” Harry tells him, blue eyes shining so brightly they almost appear godly.
He gazes down at the shorter man that holds his whole heart. Harry’s wrong: James is the lucky one. Luckiest man in the world. “I love you,” he says. Those three words are spoken with a lot more ease and comfort now.
Harry smiles even wider back at him, looking surprised for a split second. That flicker of surprise makes him determined to tell Harry a lot more often what he means to him. He doesn’t want there to be any kind of doubt about the amount of love he holds for his boyfriend.
“I love you,” Harry recites back to him again. It sure is the sweetest sound James has ever heard.
He leans down pressing his lips to Harry’s, tasting the dark chocolate icing Harry licked off the ladle moments ago. He kisses him with every ounce of love inside of his body, feeling those soft, sweet lips meld into his.
After a while he reluctantly has to pull away from Harry’s mouth, taking a much-needed breath after such an intense set of kisses. He wraps his arms around Harry’s back and the younger man slings his up around James’s shoulders. Harry is swaying them from side to side to the music, looking so happily in love. James is feeling exactly the same.
He cocks a brow, thinking back once more on their first night together. “You know? I would have paid you double if you had played your cards right,” he can’t help but say, smirking proudly. It’s not even said in jest, he means it. The things they got up to were priceless really. That night he quickly discovered that Harry wasn’t as innocent as he looked.
“Oh shut up,” Harry rolls his eyes but still laughs amused. And then Harry kisses him again. James is a lucky man indeed.
THE END