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Uncertainly, Thomas turns and twists the now slightly crumpled photograph in his trembling hands.
'Whatever picture you'll send me, I'm sure it will be at least as beautiful and radiant as you are.'
Richard's words reverberate in a thousandfold volume as a deafening echo in Thomas' head and he has to cover his ears to nip in the bud the various sensations that are raining down on him like the hot water of a shower.
The thoughts that circle unstoppably in his head like a merry-go-round going too fast. The voice in the back of his head whispering that Richard will definitely not like the photograph. He would just laugh at him and realise that Thomas not only didn't deserve him, but on top of everything else, he wasn't photogenic at all, so Richard would immediately throw away the only picture he had received of Thomas.
Deep inside, Thomas knows that Richard would never do something so painful and ruthless. That Richard loves him the way Thomas is. With all his rough edges. With his moods and his emotions, which boil up far too often, making him see red. That Richard would never judge him based on his looks. That is beneath Richard and Thomas feels sick at the thought of lowering Richard to such a level.
Jerkily, Thomas shakes his head to clear these disturbing and false thoughts from his mind. He can almost feel the tower of fear and insecurity in his head collapsing like a structure made of building blocks.
When he can think reasonably clearly again, he remembers their telephone conversation, which first brought this idea to life.
On a quiet Thursday evening, after Thomas had turned out all the lights in the servants' quarters and all the other employees had gone to bed. A conversation in pitch darkness, in his office, protected from prying eyes and pricked ears. The curtains drawn, the only sound other than his own raspy voice has been the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall.
The quiet, yet steady warning that time was moving inexorably on and soon the kitchen maids would be up again. A reminder to be quiet and quick. Even as Thomas's heart aches for the person on the other end of the line, tightens painfully at the thought of Richard Ellis, in Mr Wilson's office in the middle of the night.
Even though in every laugh, honest as it may be, there is a hint of longing and pain. The desire to see Richard again. To hold him in his arms, to reunite his lips with Richard's, to kiss Richard until they are both out of breath and dazed. Until Richards lips are swollen and shiny. Until Thomas can let himself fall into the strong arms of this amazing man.
Thomas takes a deep breath and thinks of Richard's words that night.
'It's not fair that you received the pendant from me and I don't own anything to remember you by. Not that I would need a picture to remember this loving, thoughtful and beautiful man.'
Thomas could not prevent the heat from rushing to his face at these words and an unnatural shade of red from creeping onto his otherwise pale cheeks. A sly grin stole onto his lips and even though Richard hadn't been able to see him through the phone line, he couldn't possibly miss the smirk in Thomas' voice.
'You had me worrying for a second there.'
Thomas' voice is teasing, almost mocking, and he could hear Richard hissing on the other end of the line before a loving laugh made its way to his ears. When Richard finally started speaking again, Thomas couldn't help but notice the amused and equally teasing undertone in Richard's voice.
'Mr. Barrow is right, of course. Once again... But it would be nice to have you with me all the time. To feel your photograph in the breast pocket of my coat.
So close to my heart, which already begins to pound inexorably at every memory of you. To have you with me. Even if we can't see each other. A faint whisper of what could be if this world wasn't so cruel.'
And of course Thomas could not refuse Richard this wish. Just as Thomas cannot refuse Richard any wish at all when Richard begs him in that pleading voice. Richard Ellis simply knows how to wrap Thomas around his finger.
For this reason, Thomas now stands forlornly in his office, the photograph he has had specially taken by a professional photographer crumpled in his clenched fist. But finally he makes up his mind, puts the photograph into the prescribed envelope and places it on the neat pile of letters that will be posted the same day.
Hopefully Richard will like the photograph.
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When Thomas visits the Ellis family a few weeks later at Easter, the first thing he notices is the countless family pictures on the furniture and walls.
He knows that the Ellis family has a very strong bond and that Richard can always count on the support and love of his parents. A painful twinge enters his heart at these thoughts.
He cannot stop the gnawing memories from rising in his stomach and crushing his heart during his visits to Mr. and Mrs. Ellis. Memories of his own family, who have never been so loving, attentive and supportive.
His family who chased him out of the house into the street like a dog after his father found him in the backyard with the neighbour's boy. His mother, who screamed in his face, spat at him and told him he was not her son. She doesn't know him. She doesn't want a faggot for a son.
How the contact broke off. Thomas built his own life. Dwelling in the shadows, too afraid to open up to other people. Afraid of rejection, hatred and disgust. The same emotions his own parents have shown him.
When Thomas first visited Richard's parents with him, he was so taken aback by the genuine love, affection and support that he had to pull himself together to keep from bursting into tears in the middle of the hallway of the Ellis family home. The genuine, sincere joy with which Mrs. Ellis greeted him in the living room, immediately offering him biscuits and tea and reiterating how glad she was that 'Dickie' had found him and had already told her so much about him.
How Richard's sister greeted him like a brother and whispered in his ear that he would have to deal with her if he even thought of breaking Richard's heart. Through his moist eyes, Thomas has had to smile. He's pretty sure Phyllis said the same thing to Richard the last time Richard visited Downton.
At the time of that visit, it felt like coming home to a place he had never been before.
Already at the sight of the house, as they both walk along the gravel path together but at a respectable distance from each other, Thomas' heart swelles. The familiar sight of the flowerbeds in bloom on the window sill. Blue forget-me-nots and white daisies swaying in the gentle breeze.
But when he enters the living room of the Ellis family this time, the walls, the decoration and the furniture are already so much more familiar and homely to him. In the hallway, Richard, the gentleman that he is, takes his jacket from him and hangs it on the rickety clothes rack next to the door.
It almost feels like he belonges here.
As Thomas now lets his gaze wander through the living room, he notices that something is different. Somehow he remembers the room differently. With fewer... pictures.
Richard gives him a mischievous grin and points to the shelf in front of the sofa, which is connected to a glass cabinet containing several place settings and family pictures. Thomas has admired this showcase on each of his visits, both for the loving decoration, consisting of of carved wooden figures and small stuffed animals, as well as the pictures, which are the obvious proof of this wonderful connection between this family. Thomas takes a closer look at the display cabinet.
On the right side of the display cabinet is a photograph of Richard. Thomas cannot prevent an affectionate smile from stealing onto his lips at this photo. Richard's photo seems to be relatively new. At any rate, Thomas had not noticed it during his last visit at Christmas.
The Richard in the photo is wearing a black suit and a white shirt, which he has casually unbuttoned at the first button. His hair is carefully combed back as usual, but for this photo he has dispensed with the usual gel which otherwise adorns his hair and keeps it nicely in one place. It is clear that this photo was taken by a professional photographer and therefore probably cost a lot of money. Just like the one Thomas had made for Richard. He wonders what Richard did with this photograph?
Just as Thomas wants to ask Richard about it and turns his head to the valet, his gaze sweeps the other side of the display case for a few seconds... and his question literally sticks in his throat.
Jerkily, he can almost hear the uncomfortable cracking of his neck, he turns his head in the direction of the display case... and as if on cue, his lower lip begins to tremble and his eyes become moist.
There it stands. Framed in a silver picture frame. The photograph he sent to Richard. His picture. His photograph stands in Mr. and Mrs. Ellis' house in their display case, turned so that Richard's and his picture look at each other almost imperceptibly.
His photograph is there, along with all the other family pictures. Pictures of Richard, his sister, his parents... and Thomas is a part of it.
As Thomas takes a step towards the display case, he notices that the pictures of Richard and him have probably been placed that way on purpose. Far enough apart for anyone to have noticed anything. Especially since his photo is slightly hidden behind a wooden figure. But there it stands, clearly facing Richard's picture. And their photographs smile at each other.
Subtle... but if you know it... impossible to miss.
Thomas has not even noticed that Richard has slowly approached him and now puts a hand on his shoulder.
'Welcome to the family, Thomas' he whispers, and as Thomas turns to give Richard an incredibly grateful, almost desperate kiss on the lips, he finally starts to cry.
Richard presses him against him, kisses his temples gently, almost tenderly. Richards lips soft and longing against his hot skin.
'There is only one problem' he murmurs as they finally separate, breathing heavily and Thomas' face wet with tears.
'What?' Thomas asks, his face reddening and his eyes glazed over with tears.
Richard gives him such a loving smile that Thomas would like to kiss him again right away.
'You have to send me another photograph. Otherwise I see this one far too seldom. I can't help it. Mum almost begged me to ask you for it. She said she would need a photo of her unofficial son-in-law if her only daughter refused to marry at all.'
He laughs.
'I asked her once and she answered that she can only imagine her life alone. All her attempts at dating have been fruitless. She told me they were all terrible for her and felt like she was trying to force to be someone she isn't. To feel something she doesn't feel. But now she lives alone in her small but cosy flat in York and Mum and Dad are already proud to have such an independent and great daughter. I guess they're glad that at least I brought home a son-in-law.'
Thomas cannot prevent tears from welling up in his eyes again. He could only have dreamed of something like this at home. Richard seems to notice this, because he takes Thomas' hand in his and wipes Thomas' tears from his heated cheeks.
'Sorry, we're all a bit mad here' he says.
But now Thomas laughs and kisses Richard on the forehead, gently, almost carefully.
'It doesn't matter. I like mad. As long as there's still a place for me here?'
Richard replies 'Always' and holds out his hand to Thomas.
After a gentle kiss on the back of Thomas' hand, they enter the living room of the Ellis family and Thomas feels like he has finally found a family. A family that will never let him go.