Jimmy Kent was not the type of man who would dwell on something for too long or try to find hidden meanings and read into things. He liked to live in the moment; he loved the thrill of action and to experience the world with his five senses – by dancing to music and playing an instrument himself, by tasting good food and drinks, by exploring, by learning by doing… He preferred a direct, engaged approach when it came to experiencing the world around him.
But Jimmy's body was a traitorous thing these days, and his mind was unreliable, constantly diving in some odd, unknown depths. It felt like jumping down the rabbit hole. He couldn't rely on what he was experiencing; like yesterday, when something in him so casually brought him into that situation with Thomas – it made no sense, and yet it was the most comfortable and genuine thing he felt in a long time.
It didn't feel as wrong as it should. It felt right, in fact – all of it. All laughs and stolen glances, all the way until that one specific moment when Jimmy snapped out of it and hastily tugged back with all his strength and willpower to crush whatever was between them, and more importantly - whatever could follow.
It was because he was aware that it was wrong – or would be if he were to trust his instincts all the way. It simply wasn't how a man was supposed to act with another man! It was too familiar, too close. Too intimate.
Ultimately, Jimmy was certain that it wouldn't have been half as unsettling if there weren't for- something. That something which was always burning in him, no matter if it was buried under feet upon feet of gravel and soil, feet upon feet of Jimmy's own restrictions. That something that probably made Thomas believe that there was more between them and drove him to decide on that reckless kiss…
If your own feelings become entangled in a web of misdirection, then you're not only unable to trust yourself, but you also aren't able to communicate to others what you truly want.
'Wants' and 'have-tos' were not always supposed to be the same thing. Often, they couldn't be the same thing. Jimmy learned that in his youth and it continued to prove right as he grew older.
He wanted to be as rich as the Lords and Ladies he was serving, but he had to recognise the fact that he wasn't born under a lucky star. He wanted to travel the world and uncover its wonders, but he had to accept that he would have to work for decades before he could even dare to dream of affording a lavish lifestyle like that. As bold as he felt admitting it even to himself, he wanted to be close to Thomas, closer even, much closer- but what he had to be was…
A man.
A man who marries a lass, settles down and raises a family – not yet, certainly not yet – but one day. A man who doesn't yield to flimsy emotions and loses his head over some ridiculous improper, scandalous, illegal desire - if that's even what that was. Jimmy wasn't even sure of it.
His emotions didn't show on the outside – at least he thought they didn't – but Jimmy felt like a bottle of champagne; the pressure rising inside him, everything ready to burst out and fizz up when you pop the bottle. There was an anticipation in him, a yearning; as if he was waiting for something to happen, for somebody to shake him up and let him breathe at last. Unlike normally, in this case he needed someone to nudge him because he not only didn't know how to do it, but he was certain that couldn't do it on his own.
His mind briefly rewound to the gypsy at the fair. Yearning since that night. Of all the words that were spoken during their encounter, those continued to stick to him like resin. Everything that happened that day made the ground beneath his feet unstable.
Still, as much as that 'prophecy' bothered him, and as bitter as he was when he realised that his watch had been stolen, the overpowering emotion that afternoon was simply relief that Thomas was alright. It was all that mattered – all that truly mattered. One of the few things Jimmy was certain of was that he couldn't live with himself if something happened to Thomas – especially if it were because of him.
He wouldn't be mean towards Thomas in the past if he hadn't been afraid of his own emotions. The problem was that he could hardly control them.
Control. He had a love-hate relationship with it. Jimmy normally enjoyed being free in his expression and actions, but in this one particular case he couldn't tighten the restrains on himself hard enough. He needed to control… that.
But he was also terribly confused. He didn't know what he wanted. On the one hand he enjoyed their friendship and wanted things to stay like this; in a safe place forever. But the other side was pulling him into a darker, more dangerous, perhaps even more enticing place where his heart skipped a beat when Thomas told him that he still loved him.
It shouldn't mean anything – it should even make him mad – but it gave him hope instead.
Jimmy looked towards the window and squinted at the morning light filling the room. He reluctantly got out of bed and started getting dressed, his mind persistently filled with a thousand thoughts which he couldn't disperse.
He washed his face, brushed his teeth, put on his trousers and a fresh white shirt and combed his hair. He reached in the drawer and shuffled things around absentmindedly, looking for pomade-
"Ow!" he hissed and pulled his hand away immediately.
Staring back at him were two thin, narrow slits on his index and middle finger, out of which oozed little drops of blood.
Jimmy slowly reached into the drawer with his other hand, carefully feeling the contents of it – and then he felt under his fingers the blade of a razor which he apparently hadn't folded back into the handle.
"Well that's just dandy!"
He scoffed angrily under his breath and scanned his room in search of whatever he could use to wrap around his bleeding fingers. He found a fresh handkerchief and though reluctantly, he picked it up and pressed over his hand, wrapping it around a couple of times, not bothering to tie it.
A knock on the door startled him.
Bloody hell, what now?!
"Yes?" he asked politely, trying to not let any of his agitation seep through and reveal itself in his tone.
"It's me," a muffled voice spoke. "May I come in?"
Recognising Thomas, Jimmy instinctively straightened himself, brushed his clothes with his uninjured hand, making sure that he looked proper and well put together, even though he was not yet fully dressed and had a handkerchief awkwardly wrapped around his bleeding fingers.
"Ah… sure," he hesitantly replied when he was at least somewhat pleased with his brashly fixed appearance. He made sure to position his left hand so that it was half-hidden behind his leg.
The door opened and Thomas stepped in.
"I brought you something," he recited, sounding excited, not even taking a proper look at the man in front of him yet.
He stopped in his place after two steps, probably not wishing to intrude in Jimmy's personal space. But then he realised that the vest of Jimmy's livery was lying on the bed and his eyes spotted the untied bow tie loosely hanging around the blonde man's neck.
"Sorry, if this is a bad time, I thought you'd be rea-"
He noticed Jimmy's bandaged hand and instinctively took a step closer, concern cloaking his face. "Jimmy, what happened?"
Jimmy put on a casual smile, trying to sound nonchalant.
"It's alright…" Just leave, Thomas, please! "Been a bit clumsy, 's all…"
There was an awkward pause between them. Thomas observed Jimmy and the blonde man looked around and back at his feet.
"Um… yes, well… just have to get that wretched thing-" Jimmy began.
He fumbled with the bow tie one-handedly but couldn't make his fingers do what they were supposed to. The three other uninjured fingers of his left hand were holding the handkerchief in place so that it wouldn't untie; they were of no use. He gave up and burst into an awkward laugh, shaking his head.
Thomas scanned Jimmy head to toe and pondered something for a moment, appearing torn between two ideas.
"Well, would you want me to-" he finally uttered and gestured towards Jimmy's undone bow tie. "So that you don't get any blood on it – if you don't mind," he suggested, though uncharacteristically insecure.
"Oh," Jimmy breathed out, realising what he was offering. "I'm- well… if you- I mean-"
He exhaled a shaky breath and let go of the bow tie, letting his hands rest by his sides; a stance which was supposed show that he was accepting Thomas's offer. He nodded once, trying to look at the man in front of him, but avoiding eye contact.
"Alright then."
Thomas mirrored Jimmy's small nod and moved to close the door behind him.
It creaked, but closed almost without a sound. Thomas took a few steps forward and stopped, his chest mere inches away from Jimmy's. An odd silence pervaded the thick air between them.
Jimmy's mind was becoming hazy and nearly unable to focus. The time felt like it was slowing down. As if they were trapped in an aura of their own, their own little bubble that didn't obey the laws of time and space.
Jimmy felt his heartbeat quickening. Don't stand so close, he thought faintly. His head wanted to lean in, wanted to rest on those broad shoulders- He fought the urge, straightening himself to stand as still as a statue.
Thomas raised his hands in a cautious motion, as if he were performing a delicate procedure and couldn't allow his moves to be too sudden, too reckless. His hands reached for the bow tie and began tying it; as they did, his fingers gently brushed against Jimmy's neck.
Jimmy felt shivers at the touch and his face going hotter. His heart was throbbing in his chest, the vein in his neck pulsating. He was certain his whole body was shaking and he tried to steady his breath without making it obvious. It's only Thomas, it's fine! It's nothing! He couldn't look up so he directed his gaze over Thomas's shoulder, fixed on the door.
"You trying to copy me, then?" Thomas commented to ease the tension between them and looked up for a moment with a half-smirk.
Jimmy didn't register it immediately because he was so focused on controlling himself, but then the reference to Thomas's war injury caught on and he let out a soft laugh.
"Could be worse," he said dryly. "I could've decided to copy Mr Bates."
He lifted his gaze – only for a second. Thomas was grinning, his lips stretched widely and white teeth gleaming brightly in the dim light of the room. His eyes were framed by small wrinkles, but there was a sparkle in them that made them so prominent; so alive.
Jimmy loved seeing Thomas laugh, and he loved it even more if he was the reason for it – but this guilty pleasure sent waves of fear through his body.
The black-haired man was standing so close to him that another sense of Jimmy's awoke. He closed his eyes to focus on it. It wasn't any scent in particular, just… Thomas. It was the smell of his skin mixed with the scent of pomade in his hair, with a touch of aftershave and the crisp smell of his starched shirt. It all intertwined into a harmony so painfully familiar to Jimmy. It was so distinct, so irreplaceable, that for a fragment of a second Jimmy felt a possessiveness which surprised him.
"You, um," the other man breathed as he was making the knot, his voice quiet and rather unsteady. "You might want to get a linen bandage from the cupboard downstairs," he suggested.
Jimmy nodded absentmindedly and even though he resisted looking at Thomas's face, he had to take another brief look. The man's jaw was set, his expression focused, but it almost looked pained somehow.
Jimmy's glance briefly brushed over Thomas's lips when he looked down again.
I'm sorry, he thought, with no specific thing in mind. He was just sorry for… many things.
Thomas finished his work, removed his hands and stepped back – and Jimmy felt like somebody had punched him in the stomach; it was a regret, a defiance over the fact that the moment was over - he craved to prolong it, though he wasn't sure what was so great about it other than-
Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn't filled with rising expectation, just with hollowed emptiness.
"Thanks," Jimmy muttered. He meant it, but he was dazed over the loss of the moment between them. "You, um… you said you had something for me?" he remembered.
The other man's face suddenly lit up. "Right, yes!" Thomas reached in his pocket. "I thought you might miss it," he said and pulled out a small silver watch.
Jimmy's eyes widened and he hastily reached for it.
"Is that-" he gawked, and Thomas nodded, a pleased but still somewhat reserved expression drawn across his face.
"But how did you- where did you find it?"
He couldn't hide the surprise or the excitement, but then he noticed that the hands on the watch were moving, accompanied by a quiet ticking sound.
"Thomas! Did you fix it?"
His smile unfading, the black-haired man nodded again, raising his eyebrows mischievously. "Thought I'd take the liberty – I did promise you I'd take a look."
"Thomas…" Jimmy was lost for words and he didn't think that what he was about to say could ever suffice in conveying how he truly felt. "Thank you."
Thomas's lips curled into that very genuine, benevolent smile that seemed like it was reserved only for Jimmy.
"But I don't understand-," Jimmy shook his head and furrowed his brow. "Where did you get it? I thought I'd lost it-"
"-at the fair." Thomas completed the sentence, an undertone of question in his statement.
Jimmy looked up into Thomas's eyes. It became clear to him now that he apparently knew something more.
"Yes," he quietly replied with insecurity threaded through his voice.
As much as Jimmy didn't want to talk about it, he felt he owed Thomas at least some part of an explanation. He decided to test the ground for how much the other man knew.
"How did you find it?"
There was a woman at the fair," Thomas began. "A gypsy fortune teller, it seemed."
Jimmy listened, eyes wide, uneasiness in him growing.
"She walked up to me and just… gave it to me," Thomas continued and shook his head as if he were questioning the validity of his own words. "I recognized it was yours and…" He chose to shorten the story. "Well, the rest is history."
Jimmy felt a lump in his throat.
"Did you know her?" he asked.
Thomas shook his head. "No. I thought maybe you did, since she had your watch."
"No, of course I didn't, I-"
So that damned woman gave my watch to a stranger?! Jimmy thought. He contemplated if there was any way to tell this without coming clean about the entirety of his peculiar adventure at the fair.
"But why did she give it to you?"
"I don't know," Thomas said earnestly, looking Jimmy in the eye. He paused, pondering for a moment whether he should say what he was going to, or if it was simply too strange. "She told me to 'return it to him'".
There was a pause and only the quiet ticks of the watch echoed across the room.
"But that doesn't-" Jimmy tried to gather his thoughts. "-that makes no sense…" Who is 'he'? Did she mean me? How could she have known Thomas and I knew each other and that he'd give it back to me?
Thomas took a step closer. "Jimmy, maybe she saw us at the fair together? Saw you losing the watch and-"
"But I didn't lose it," Jimmy quietly but sternly admitted, looking down at the watch in his hands.
Don't tell him, he'll laugh at you, he thought, instinctively mindful and protective of his own pride – but something about Thomas's concerned, caring look made Jimmy comfortable enough around him. It wasn't like there was another way.
"I'd seen the gypsy earlier that day…" he continued, persistently looking down. "She walked up to me and said she'd tell me my fortunes and she needed my watch to do that and… I forgot it in her tent. I was certain she'd pocketed it and ran away with it."
He still didn't understand why she tried to return the watch. She could sell it and get a nice sum for it.
There was a pause; Thomas appeared to be thinking and Jimmy felt a joke.
"Well, go on then, have a laugh," Jimmy said cynically, much to Thomas's puzzlement. "A grown man havin' his fortunes read at a fair," he scornfully elaborated his thoughts, scoffing at himself.
"I won't laugh," Thomas spoke calmly, giving Jimmy a sincere look and reaching for his shoulder – but he changed his mind halfway and pulled his hand back.
"If you thought I'd ever laugh at you, you don't know me well, James Kent. You can trust me. No need to draw a veil over this - or anything. Honest."
Jimmy's smile came involuntarily, but in the same moment a strange sensation ran through his body as he remembered something.
"So is that why you were so upset?" Thomas went on. "Did she tell- Jimmy?"
Jimmy made a step back; his legs failed him and he plopped down on the bed.
Draw a veil… blood of love will lift the veil- "Jimmy?" … twelve moons… craving since that night…- "Jimmy, what's wrong?" … when you're given back the time… step through… "Jimmy, talk to me!"… love has already found you… step through the looking glass… given back the time-
"JIMMY!"
Thomas's hands, resting on his shoulders, brought Jimmy back from the confusing place where his mind had wandered. Saturated with everything he'd heard at the fair, his thoughts at long last began making some crazy sense. It was anything but credible, but it was an explanation nonetheless.
"You…" Jimmy managed to utter, his frightened eyes looking directly in Thomas's. His throat felt dry and his words like they weren't his own. He looked to his left hand, resting by his side, clutching the pocket watch and continued looking at it even as he addressed Thomas. "You gave me back… the time."
The black-haired man gave Jimmy a concerned look, both of them disregarding the fact that he was keeling in front of Jimmy, his hands still resting on Jimmy's shoulders.
"You could say that," he replied, sounding detached and only focused on the blonde man's face, trying to discern whether he was truly alright now.
"Thomas, we need to talk," Jimmy said with a sense of great urgency.
The other man nodded, removing his hands. "Alright, sure. But now's really not the time," he tried to reason with him. "We have to get downstairs, they'll send a search party if we don't show up soon."
"Alright, but soon," Jimmy insisted. "May I-"
He felt his face going hot. "May I come to your room in the evening?"
Thomas's face was so astonished that it practically didn't express any emotion. Jimmy wanted to come to him? To his room? Thomas's response was barely audible and perhaps more a question than an answer.
"Yes, of course."
