Chapter 11

In which Thomas and Jimmy cuddle, pseudo-platonically.

"Beer?"

Thomas glanced at the two beers that Jimmy had pulled out of the fridge, nodding. "Yeah, thanks."

Jimmy tugged the caps off with his teeth, handing one to Thomas before they collapsed on the sofa.

"God, I'm exhausted," Jimmy sighed, taking a long swig from his beer as he put his feet up on Thomas' lap. "Double shifts really take it out of you. How was your day?"

Shrugging, Thomas took a sip of his own beer. "The usual. Workshop, tutorials, lectures – I went for lunch with my friend Edward, but apart from that? Nothing out of the ordinary. I don't envy you, spending hours catering to people's demands for overpriced coffee."

"Tell me about it," Jimmy scoffed. "Sometimes, I think… screw this! I'll just throw in the towel, tell them all where to stick their stupid frappuccinos, but then I remember that I would lose the money that I need to live. So, there goes that plan!"

"What would you do?" asked Thomas. "If – if you were to quit tomorrow, what would you do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Work at Costa?" He snorted. "I'd have to get another job, and chances are it would be somewhere even worse. No, I'm best off where I am – at least it's reliable."

"Yeah; it's got that going for it, I suppose."

After a beat, Jimmy glanced at Thomas, concerned. "You know, it's pretty warm in here. You can take your jumper off, if you want, or roll the sleeves up or something."

Thomas half-shrugged, shifting to a more comfortable position. "I'm fine; I like the warm."

"'kay. As long as you're sure."

The conversation came to a natural pause, each sipping their own drink and enjoying the other's presence. It was odd, Thomas thought, how comfortable they were together; he would happily say that there was no replacement for Jimmy's company, and he didn't think it particularly narcissistic to suppose that Jimmy would think the same about him. There was an ease when they were together, one that he'd only just begun to recreate with Mary and that he'd never shared with anyone else.

Maybe… maybe Jimmy would be okay, knowing the truth about him and Mary. It was tiring, constantly hiding from him, constantly worrying about how he might react. It wasn't even the usual case of coming out, of confessing some sort of necessary lie of omission; this was outright deceit, lying to the world for over two years about his personal life, and there was no way of knowing how Jimmy would take that. But still, he wanted to be able to talk to Jimmy about it. He was spending more and more time with Edward, and he had to admit that he was starting to find the other boy quite attractive; both in looks and in personality. Edward made him feel like it was okay to be finding this hard; like it was perfectly natural to be struggling, and for the first time he had someone who really understood. They rarely spoke about such things, but it was something that each of them had accepted and was an unspoken agreement between them. It was as if Edward was the boy that a younger, school-age Thomas had always hoped for; someone who, through gentle nudges and caring support could coax him out of his shell.

Was it so bad for him to want to talk to Jimmy about that?

"I - " he started before he could lose his nerve, but as he spoke Jimmy said "So at - "

They both stopped talking, looking expectantly at each other.

"You go first," Jimmy said after a second, indicating towards Thomas with his beer bottle.

"Oh, no, it's fine," Thomas forced out, feeling his nerve slipping away from him with every second. How could he have thought that telling Jimmy was a good idea? "You go first."

"Well," Jimmy shrugged. "It wasn't much. There was just this couple in the shop today, right, and – well, it was weird. I mean, they were both women – which I don't have an issue with," he hastily added, not sounding entirely convinced. "Anyway, so they come in, and place their orders and everything, and I just…" He tailed off, clearly unconvinced by his own story. "Well, it was weird, you know? That they were just so… normal. You think lesbian, and you think either two really hot birds getting it on," he gave Thomas a look that clearly meant that he was expected to agree, "Or you expect, like, two plaid-wearing builders or something. But you couldn't guess, from looking at them separately, that they were gay."

"Maybe people are just more complicated than you think," Thomas snapped, quickly losing his patience with Jimmy's 'story'.

"Yeah, I suppose," Jimmy said, completely missing any criticism in Thomas' tone. "It makes you think, though, doesn't it? I mean, anyone could be gay, and we could just… not know."

"Yeah," Thomas said coldly, concentrating on the beer in his hand and not trusting himself to say anything else.

Jimmy cleared his throat awkwardly. "Thomas, am I… you know, am I a bit behind on all of this? I feel like everyone's so okay with everything, but I'm only just getting it."

"Yeah." Thomas laughed more with relief than anything else; finally, some sense. "Yeah, that's about the most accurate thing you've said so far."

"Time for another beer after all that," Jimmy said incredulously, getting up from the old sofa. "You want another one?"

"Sure."

"Anyway, what was it you wanted to say?"

Thomas shook his head, focussing on his fingers tapping a rhythm on his knee. "Oh, it was nothing."

He took the second bottle from Jimmy, trying his best to stay relaxed as Jimmy sat back down again, this time close enough that their arms and legs were touching.

"You know, I still can't figure you out," Jimmy said, the tipsiness already starting to show in his frank speech. "There's just something about you that I… that I can't work out. You're something else, Thomas. You really are." He shuffled slightly so he could rest his head on Thomas' shoulder.

"What do you – what do you mean by that?" Thomas asked quietly, trying to distract himself from the tickle of Jimmy's hair against his neck.

"Well, you believe in me," Jimmy said sleepily. "It's been a long time since someone did that."

Slowly and tentatively, as if afraid that it might break the spell, Thomas lifted his arm up and around Jimmy until it was resting on his far shoulder, draped over his back.

"Of course I believe in you," he whispered. "You… you have so much talent, Jimmy. You're something special, you really are. I just wish that you could see that."

For a few seconds he waited for a response before realising that Jimmy was fast asleep, his second beer bottle – nearly empty – slipping out of his hand. Gently, not wanting to jostle him, Thomas reached for it and set it on the floor before sitting up again and wrapping his arm slightly tighter around Jimmy. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through Jimmy's hair, settling instead for simply watching him; the way his nostrils flared slightly as he breathed, the way he turned himself further into Thomas' chest.

Thomas couldn't help but think that maybe he should have told him. It almost felt like a betrayal, being this close to Jimmy but still living some sort of lie. An unbidden part of his brain reminded him that, perhaps, if Jimmy knew what he was, he wouldn't want this; he wouldn't want to spend time with him, or to share any physical contact with him. The more rational side of his mind told him to stop being so ridiculous. Of course Jimmy wouldn't do that to him! They were friends, after all; even if Jimmy wasn't necessarily comfortable with it, wouldn't he at least make an effort?

It broke Thomas' heart sometimes, how little Jimmy believed in himself. As much as he joked about being content to work at Starbucks for the rest of his life, Thomas often thought that there was some sincerity behind it; that Jimmy honestly didn't believe that his dreams were achievable. Jimmy was capable of so much, Thomas knew that, but he had to persuade Jimmy that too…

An idea slowly started to grow in his mind, aided by the bravado that the beer had given him. Maybe Jimmy could achieve his potential; he just needed someone to push him in the right direction.

Well, he thought, couldn't hurt to try.

And he drifted off to sleep.

Jimmy woke up early the following morning as the light shone through the window, the crick in his neck making itself known as soon as he surfaced into consciousness. It took him a few seconds to work out exactly why he was sat in such an odd position, and had somehow managed to sleep deeply for hours like that, before he remembered that he'd fallen asleep next to Thomas, seemingly curled up under his arm.

"Morning, sleepy-head."

Jimmy jumped up at the voice, not aware that Matthew was there. He scowled at his roommate who was smiling amusedly while eating toast, leant against the kitchen counter.

"Looks like you two had a really wild night," Matthew grinned, indicating the four empty bottles of beer on the floor.

Jimmy mumbled, "Shut up." He opened the fridge, grabbing the milk and drinking straight from the bottle.

"Someone got out of the wrong side of the sofa," said Matthew. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing. I've got to get to work." Determined to leave as quickly as possible, he tore off the previous day's shirt and tugged on a fresh one before briskly leaving the flat as Matthew shouted, "Your shift doesn't start for another five hours!"

Thomas woke with a start as the door slammed shut, looking around for a few seconds with wide eyes before he remembered where he was.

"Oh," he said dejectedly to Matthew when he realised that Jimmy had just left. "I thought…" he shook his head. "Never mind."

Matthew stood for a moment, thinking. He put his plate into the sink before sitting down at the far end of the sofa, turning slightly so he was facing Thomas. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, I guess," Thomas shrugged awkwardly, unused to having one-on-one time with Matthew. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seem a little…" Matthew thought for a moment, racking his brains for the right word before settling on, "…down."

"You've been talking to Mary," Thomas accused, tugging his shoes on quickly. "Go on; what did she say to you?"

"She didn't say anything," Matthew said quickly. "She wouldn't say anything. But it doesn't take a genius to work out that you're looking a bit… glum."

Thomas stood up, grabbing his bag as he strode towards the door. "Well, she's all yours now, so what do you care?" He tugged the door open, grabbing his coat from the pegs.

"Wait!"

Thomas paused in the doorway as he pulled his coat on, turning. "What?"

"You - " Matthew looked lost for words. "You – you're good for Jimmy."

There was a long silence as Thomas looked at Matthew inquisitively, trying to work out the meaning behind what he'd said. "Try telling him that," he said scornfully. "And – I suppose you're good for Mary. Or, well, you're too good for Mary."

"I, er, wouldn't go that far," Matthew laughed awkwardly. "Well, I'd better let you be going. But I'll see you on Saturday?"

"Saturday?"

"The race."

"Oh!" Thomas rolled his eyes. "The race, how could I forget! No, I'll be there – as mediator if nothing else."

Matthew nodded awkwardly at him, and Thomas left.

That evening, Thomas tried his best to focus on his essays and assignments but couldn't concentrate for more than a few seconds. The work that he usually found so fascinating and inspiring had never seemed more dull and more pointless as he sat surrounded by textbooks bits and pieces of structures that he was building for class.

Instead, he was rifling through a pile of leaflets that he'd picked up in the foyer of the music department on his way home from lectures. They all seemed the same to him; an artistic photograph of someone playing an instrument on the cover, a list of presumably impressive alumni, and pictures of the various performance spaces. He went through each one, highlighting anything that he thought might be relevant, writing numbers on the front as to which ones looked better than others.

With the various leaflets spread in front of him, he opened up a website on his laptop and started to type.

APPLICATION FOR MUSIC AND DRAMA COLLEGES, COURSES BEGINNING IN 2017

Name: James Kent