He didn't realise it at the time, but he knew Jimmy. From a life so long ago it felt almost like a completely separate existence. When the young man walked in on his first day for his interview, of course he saw that he was gorgeous, but there was something else to him, he seemed familiar, yet new and unexplored at the same time. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and as the valet looked into the bright blue hues something stirred from deep within him(not like that), like their souls had once met, and were destined to meet again. He wasn't sure that he actually recognised him, but the other man had a look about his entire demeanour which made it feel like he had known him his whole life. The young blond just seemed to be innately recognisable. He felt a connection. He just couldn't put his finger on why.
In all honesty, he didn't really realise he was having an epiphany of recognition, he was too blown over by the other's astounding beauty. Nevertheless, he noticed that he did feel something other than obvious attraction to the good looking man, but there was something more, something indescribable; like he had been waiting his entire life just for them to meet again. And yet he didn't even know his name.
"Who's this?" he heard himself ask, his tone holding an embarrassing undertone of excitement. What a foolish thing to say to such a ravishing young man. But he couldn't help it; the words were out of his mouth before he could think things through.
"Jimmy Kent," the blond answered brightly. He hoped the look on his face wasn't revealing the extreme emotions that were sparking up within him. Now was not the time to break out the come hither look, but he couldn't help himself…He did so anyway. The other man started to look uncomfortable under the intense gaze and paused awkwardly before adding "at your service".
Never had Thomas been more turned on by those words in his life. However at the same time something else lingered in his mind, in his body, his heart; he felt the warm rush of a feeling quite alien to him. It had been so long since he had felt something like it. It was sort of sentimental and pure. He couldn't find many more words to describe it. It was most unusual. Unnatural even, for him at least.
"Mr Barrow, valet to his lordship," he said coolly, yet below the surface he was ablaze with excitement, passion, energy. It had been too long since a potential man had come along; and he surprised himself, for once, being asserted in the knowledge that, when Thomas looked into Jimmy's eyes, that he wanted something more, something deeper than just a quick dalliance filled with plenty of copulation. No, this time he wanted something real, his heart was screaming for attention, demanding what it wanted as it beat thunderously within his ribcage, so hard that he thought he may just end up with bruises upon his chest. For the first time in a long while, perhaps maybe even ever, he could look at another person knowing he desperately wanted their love, their companionship, no one else's. But more than anything, and this is the part which seemed to surprise him the most, he wanted to know who this man was, why he seemed so familiar.
Who are you?
That night, Thomas' mind strayed to areas best left untouched. It was that man, he didn't know why but he reminded him of the life he once had before all this-he looked around at his small shabby room in contempt-not that he ever had anything better at home. Home. The thought of living in a house with his family and calling it his home was…well, it was odd to say the least. He never gave much attention to letting his thoughts linger on his family-they weren't worth it-to be honest he felt let down by them even though it had been many moons since he'd left.
'Man shall not lie with man' his mother wailed from inside the house, as he stood outside, watching bitterly as she threw his belongings out the window. She had found out earlier that day, yanking him home and shouting at him in the garden until his father heard and stormed out of his workshop wanting to know what all the ruckus was about; as soon as he learnt of his sons 'wicked ways' he dragged him in through the house by the scruff of the neck and beat him senselessly against the floor when mother said she had caught him stealing a kiss with a boy behind the church.
They had kicked him out that day at the age of 16 and told him to 'find his own way in life'. Really, it was an amazement they hadn't caught him before, he shuddered at the memory. It wasn't healthy for him to think about the past, especially that past.
Well, at least I did make my own way, even if it did take blood, sweat and tears.
Thomas blew out the last light in his room and vowed not to think on it again.
He broke his own promise. That boy had showed up whilst he was out in London. Whilst walking through the attic corridors to get to his bedroom, he passed one of the unused rooms, the door slightly agar. It was basically inviting Thomas to look inside; it wasn't creepy to peer in if the door was already open. A warm smile graced his face before he could even stop it. It was that boy again, Jimmy… undressing. He let his gaze linger over the other man's body, turned away from him to give a full view of his back. It was a rather nice back, so toned and tanned and… since when did I become so fascinated by backs?
"You got the job then?" the valet asked without even having to think. It was a stupid question and come to think of it he really didn't want to make his presence known; it would have been nice to just stand and watch a few minutes longer, but then again, the last thing he wanted was to be caught staring with no obvious intention to speak.
The blond turned around, flashing a broad smile, clutching his shirt front in his hands aimlessly, the task of dressing seeming to be temporally forgotten.
"I'm on my way, Mr Barrow"
On your way to my bed…
Wait…what?
(Who said that?)
The young blond continued to smile pleasantly before his expression mellowed into one of neutral curiosity. He paused for a second then looked like he was about to say something, as if he was saying the words in his head to make sure that they sounded acceptable.
"They say you were a footman once?"
"That's right" the valet replied with a smile.
"So can I come to you if there's anything I need to know?"
"Certainly, why not?" With one last look, Thomas drank in the sight before him, trying his hardest to memorise every little detail of the man in front of him, until (begrudgingly) walking away when it was clear the conversation was over and it was no longer appropriate to stand and stare. Despite hating having to leave, the valet walked away with a content half-smile playing on his lip, and for the first time in a long while it's not because of someone else's downfall or misery.
Later that day he went in to see Jimmy sitting at the servant's hall table, everyone already hanging off his every word. Thomas couldn't help but briefly stop and stare. He was so enticing. So magnetic. And as he looked at him again he was certain that they had met, or that he had at least seen him without exchanging words at some point in his life. Who are you?
The problem with this was that to unravel the truth, the past had to be re-entered, and he couldn't possibly do that.
Thomas did it anyway. As he stared up into the blackness of his ceiling that night, he began to subconsciously sift through his memories, starting from where he had last left off several weeks previously.
He had to leave his village immediately, he couldn't linger in his hometown; the news would have already started to spread. He needed to get out. He stumbled along to uneven surface of the many country roads for what felt like eons of time. He eventually came to rest for the day in a village about 10 miles away from his own. His feet were aching horribly and he was desperate to just stop and have a rest. He appeared to be in a small village, although it was hard to tell as there wasn't much there apart from a small pub and he had never been there before. As he neared the building the sound of an enchanting melody filled the air, as if hypnotised, Thomas felt himself rove towards the door.
It was warm and the smell of home-cooked food wafted through the air pleasantly. There was a small fire burning in the corner and a man with greying flaxen hair stood at the bar. Thomas swiftly ordered a drink and was told he could 'sit wherever he liked'. He knew he should have been saving his money, but the room was so cosy, and he was desperately tired. He noticed that the source of the sound was coming from a door to the side. He didn't even have to think about moving; before he knew it he was already inside. In front of him sat the cause of the elegant sound. A piano faced towards the wall, just by the door. The boy playing didn't stop at the sound of approaching footsteps, his back still turned away as he played. Thomas felt his cheeks flush as he went to stand by the end of the instrument and watch the performance, or more importantly the performer, more closely.
The other boy was probably only a few years younger than him, well at least no more than 5. Thomas felt somewhat guilty for finding a boy younger than himself rather cute. He was stunningly beautiful, even in the awkward stages of youth his skin was bright and clear. Smooth blond hair flopped slightly in front of his eyes as he looked at his own fingers dancing over the keys. Thomas immediately drew the connection that the man in the other room must have been his father. When he finished, he cranked his head up and to the side, looking at Thomas with a sweet smile and wide eyes.
"You like it? I've been practicing for months!" he said cheerily as he swung his legs around and hopped off the chair. Thomas nodded in reply, unsure of what to say, slightly taken aback by the younger boy's cheerful and earnest attitude. If he had leant anything in his time on this earth, it was that generally people weren't kind to you unless they wanted something, and if they didn't want anything then they were bound to backstab you eventually. But he could never picture the youth before him doing anything of the sort-he seemed to break the rule-Thomas felt himself give a genuine smile even though he knew he should have being having qualms. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it abruptly at the painful feeling of his body aching, quite a lot actually, and the more he thought about it, the weaker he felt, like his legs might just give out…
He awoke some hours later to warm breaths on his nose. His eye lids fluttered open, rousing him from his unconsciousness. He wondered how exactly he got in this bed; the room he was in was modestly furnished, yet had a cosy, homely feel to it. The piano boy perched at his side on the bed quickly drew away from him as if he had been burnt. He looked embarrassed for a moment until flashing him a relaxed smile.
"Yer fainted downstairs in the pub" he said in explanation to the question Thomas hadn't yet asked. He had only seen him for no more than five minutes and he could already feel himself growing a strange attachment to the younger boy. Although not much younger, Thomas reminded himself again, smiling weakly in return. He shuddered as he felt him wiping a damp cloth across his brow. The coldness of the water made him realise just how hot he was feeling. As stray droplet of water trickled down face and onto his check, Piano Boy gently brought a finger up to brush it away, both of them colouring slightly at the contact, the others hand moving away quickly as his cheeks continued to burn; he dropped it to lie on the bedside table as he placed his palm easily on Thomas' shoulder, bending forwards slightly so that he towered over top of him, lying beneath the blonds two arms. Piano Boy ran the palm of his hand across his face to see his temperature, letting it linger over his forehead as he spoke softly in a similar Yorkshire burr to that of his own.
"How ya feelin'?" he asked, brushing his fingers along his temple and down to his cheekbone. Thomas felt his face burn again at the attention he was getting; no one ever gave him much notice so he was slightly baffled as to why Piano Boy was taking such care with him. His stomach twisted with nerves, although it wasn't the same feeling as unpleasant worry. It was something new. Thomas' mind briefly wondered if this is what it felt like to fall in love, but he quickly pushed the idea away. Silly nonsense.
Seconds later, the blond's father walked in and frowned at the sight before him. Not many men would be pleased to see their son caressing the face of a total stranger, and this man was no exception. Thomas couldn't help but wonder about the boy; he honestly seemed to see no wrong in what he was doing, he was innocent, naïve, yet bizarrely curious and fearless as he continued to run his hand over Thomas' face regardless of his father's presence. As much as he was enjoying the contact, Thomas grudgingly shrugged away from the touch so not to give the boy's father any ideas. Nothing was really happening after all and he'd be damned if he was to be harshly kicked out and pushed away twice for indulging in his preferences.
"You feelin' better lad?" the older man asked, his brow creasing. Judging by the uneasy look he was giving the two of them, Thomas took that as his sign to leave, even though he was still tired and hungry, and desperately wanted to know more about the boy he had just encountered.
Less than twenty minutes later he found himself back on the street, thanking the man as he left. He never did find out their names, never being one to want to be overly familiar, nor grow close to people who will only leave and let you down, a fact life had already made quite clear for him.
Perhaps that was the boy? Unlikely. Thomas thought. There's more than one blond haired boy in Yorkshire. Although it was hard to tell, the memory already seemed so distant. He hadn't really thought about that incident since it happened; he had more important things to think about at the time other than silly boys playing the piano. Okay, strictly speaking that wasn't entirely true, he may have thought about him a little bit, but like everything else about his past he had willingly pushed it away into the deepest, darkest, corner of his mind to fade away.
Some days later, Thomas had found himself at Downton Abbey seeking employment. He was met by an old man with furry eyebrows which looked like a caterpillar had just died across his forehead, who introduced himself as the butler, Mr Carson. Thomas had made sure to spend the little money he had on a room in the village for the night before just so he could look presentable. The rest of the days he had just been sleeping rough. This really was his only chance. He should have thought himself lucky-Carson took him on as a hallboy-despite him having no reference, and only his word that he was a clockmakers son and he had been working for his father-turns out, one of the other boys had suddenly quit so they were actually in need of a replacement. Thomas wasn't too impressed by this position and was determined to move up. Although even he could accept that 16 was too young, but in two years Thomas was working as a footman after proving to Carson that he could in fact stand up straight and hold a tray. Thomas was glad that he was actually able to, he had made a big deal to Carson that he could hold a tea tray perfectly without actually trying prior. His clockmakers hands had to be good for something…
Thomas turned over to lie on his side. No point in dwelling on something so silly.