I realize there has been some chronic delay in updating the Anthology. Exhaustion is getting to me (not solely from writing this, but many other things). So please bear with me, be patient, and keep on reading. I may update some of the entries from the past week, just give it some more meat, but I was prioritizing putting these up instead of making them pretty.

December 11: Have Yourself a Merry Little Romance

Pairing: Thomas/Jimmy

Rating: T for strong language and some Thomas angst that may or may not make some people cry. Really sorry.

One minute, Jimmy was deep in REM sleep, and the next he was being rudely interrupted by "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire. Quickly making a mental note to choose a softer ringtone, Jimmy blinked, searched blindly for his phone, then grasped it and hit the answer button.

"Hmm, wha'?" he gargled. If Jimmy ever had sex, he would hope that his partner would not wake up before him and see his Sleeping Beauty impression. His mouth was coated in filmy spit and his misty eyes felt like those of an old woman's.

"Hey, Jimmy. It's Thomas. Are you awake?"

"Not fully," Jimmy said bitterly. "You do realize it is only …" He checked the alarm clock on the dresser across the room. "... seven-thirty in the fucking morning."

"Are you really not up yet? Are you one of those people who sleeps in until ten?"

Jimmy groaned loudly into the mouthpiece. "Thomas, did you call me just to berate me about my sleeping habits?"

"Sorry, no," Thomas said. His voice softened. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the night of the party. About … what you said."

"Yeah, I feel such an idiot," Jimmy said.

"How do you mean?" Thomas asked.

"Stop acting the fool, Barrow. I promised I'd get you a drink, and then I'm the one who goes and —"

"What?" Thomas exclaimed. "No, that's not what I meant. Forget about the drink, I mean what you said about Ivy and … then what you said about possibly being gay?" he added, sounding uncertain.

That all came back to Jimmy's mind. For the past few days, ever since the party, he had been reconstructing what he had said in front of Thomas, despite the fact that he had consumed drinks with more alcohol content than he had ever put in his mouth. And the dismal fact was, it was probably all true.

To tell the truth – not out loud, of course – Jimmy had never really been sure of his sexuality. In school, he had, along with his schoolmates, looked at pictures of blonde pop stars and actresses, because not doing that was considered 'mental.' (Later, 'gay' became a synonym for that.) Even if Jimmy found that 'sexy star' to be lacking in anything real or looking like a Photoshop creation, he didn't say it out loud.

When he came across an older student in college, a brown-haired youth with a chiseled jaw and a nameless visage, Jimmy had to pinch himself from thinking how hot he was. And it was not just a passing thought, or an imagined competition of good looks: in his head, it was like the initial signal of attraction.

Somehow, Jimmy had ignored any indication that he might not be completely heterosexual. He did think that two of his friends, Daisy and Ivy, were cute, and while he had decided to date Ivy, their relationship had not been as romantic as television and movies made it out to be. This peeved Jimmy: why were stylized romance dramas continuously churned out if the plotlines couldn't be experienced by everyone? Then again, most of those dramas concerned American boy-with-girl relationships, and since Jimmy was not American, that ideal romance was probably void.

"You know, if you need to talk, just come to me," Thomas continued, delivering Jimmy from his flashbacks. "I know what it's like to be confused."

"Who said I was confused?" Jimmy exclaimed.

"I did. Even if you aren't gay, you've still obviously got an issue with that Ivy – "

"Thomas," Jimmy interrupted. "I broke up with Ivy."

There was silence following this statement. Jimmy tapped the volume button in case he had accidently pressed the mute button with his cheek.

"Hello? Er, Thomas?"

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just – well, they all have it coming."

"Whaddya mean?" Jimmy frowned.

"Nothing, really," Thomas said, brushing off Jimmy's accusatory tone. "Listen, how about we meet up somewhere for breakfast? Because I don't feel that we're going to have a meaningful chat just over our phones."

"Okay, so now the British government is recording mobile phone conversations?" Jimmy said, laughing and throwing aside the sheets still covering his body.

"C'mon Jimmy, they've always been doing wiretaps and shit like that," Thomas said. "There's that tiny coffee shop near your place. I'm going to meet you there."

Jimmy jumped out of his bed. Holding the phone in place with his shoulder, he began to search for a shirt. "Yeah, that sounds alright. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Twenty minutes later, Jimmy pulled open the door to the Coffee Mug or some other generic café name. Thomas was waiting for him, already sitting at a small round table with a pot of tea and a croissant sandwich.

"I'm sorry. Did I keep you waiting?" Jimmy asked, settling into the chair directly in front of Thomas.

"No, not that much," Thomas shrugged. "I'm just glad you did not come in your pyjamas."

"Amusing, Thomas, you're really quite the comedian," Jimmy retorted. Thomas smirked.

"Heh. Go buy something to eat," he told Jimmy. He waited patiently as Jimmy ordered an egg sandwich and sat down again.

"So," Jimmy said shortly.

"So," Thomas parrotted.

Jimmy snorted. "Don't give me that, for God's sake. You're the one who called me out of bed at the ungodly hour that you did."

Thomas lifted his hands in apology. "You're right. Sorry. It's just … I wondered if you had anything troubling you that you needed to tell someone."

Jimmy sighed. Thomas was right: he was troubled. He would be spilling his guts right now if he was certain that was the right way to go about solving his problem.

"Well, I was wondering," Jimmy began, scratching the side of his head, "what it was like when you … you know … found out?"

Thomas smiled and laughed lightly. "When I came out as gay, you mean. Jimmy it's nothing forbidden."

"But people don't like it," Jimmy said.

Thomas scoffed curtly. "Jimmy, are you stuck in the fifteen-hundreds? It's becoming accepted." He peered closer at Jimmy. "Or are you afraid of what your friends think?"

Jimmy nodded dully. "Something like that. I mean, if Ivy catches wind that I'm attracted to guys in the slightest, she's going to come banging on my door asking why I ever even decided to go out with her."

"That would be typical of her," Thomas commented. "Speaking of, how did she react to you breaking up with her?"

Jimmy shrugged. "It was the usual: the denial, demand for explanation, bawling, saying I was going to regret this. I told her that we weren't compatible as boyfriend and girlfriend. Still, she acted like I didn't want to be friends anymore. But how did you find out that you were homosexual?"

Thomas sighed in his throat and leaned back in his chair. He took about thirty seconds to start giving his answer, but to Jimmy it felt like two hours. He was not very comfortable with silence.

"I'm not sure when I realized I was 'officially gay.' I mean, I had some idea that I was different, but I don't think I called myself 'officially gay' until I started feeling attraction towards this one guy at college."

"Did you know him well?" Jimmy asked curiously.

Thomas shrugged a bit. "Somewhat. We became friends slowly over time. He was studying to go into medicine, and we had some classes together. I think he wanted to become an ophthalmologist –"

"Oprah what?" Jimmy interjected.

"An eye surgeon, you peasant," Thomas said. "Actually, that didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"He joined the army," Thomas explained. "He went to Afghanistan. He didn't come back home the same."

"What happened?" asked Jimmy. Quickly, he noticed Thomas becoming misty-eyed.

"He was blinded by shrapnel. He was brought back to England to be hospitalized. And when I saw him on the ward — "

At this, Thomas's voice began to crack, but he kept on. "I wanted him to see me again, to let him know I was there for him. And that's when I think I began to realize I loved him. I just felt this attraction, something along the lines of me not wanting to leave his side. I was so damn worried about him."

Thomas cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. "He didn't make it. Some stray shrapnel had gotten into his brain. It moved, and he died in his sleep."

Jimmy's breath caught in throat. "My God. I-I can't imagine what that's like."

Thomas nodded as he grabbed his tea cup and took a big swallow of the scalding liquid. "I couldn't stop wishing he had lived for months. I quit thinking about medicine, because every time I thought about doctors, I thought about hospitals, and that's where he died. Somehow, I began to believe that, in some way, I could have saved him. But they knew he was going to die. They just brought him back to England to make him feel better, I think."

He breathed in heavily. "It was years ago, long before I met Philip. I still think about it sometimes, but I don't think he ever recognized that I was gay. Maybe he was straight. I never saw him in a relationship, and he never talked about wanting a girlfriend. Still — "

Jimmy looked at Thomas, visibly still shaken.

Purely on instinct, Jimmy reached over and grabbed Thomas's trembling hand. Thomas looked at Jimmy with red, wet eyes.

"Come on, mate," Jimmy said. "Let's go and do some Christmas shopping."

"What?" Thomas snapped.

"I said, 'let's go and do some Christmas shopping.' We're both single men looking for love, and I just so happen to have a long list of gifts I need to get for some people."

Thomas stared at Jimmy before a smile began to replace his shaking lips. "Let me see that list."

Jimmy opened up a note on his phone. Thomas took the phone, scanned the list quickly, then shook his head pitifully.

"The rest of the human race is so fucking stupid when it comes to gift-giving. I thought that was what Christmas was about."

"Then I suppose I'm lucky to have you as my shopping assistant," Jimmy said, taking back his phone and promptly deleting the entire list.

"Hey! I'm the professional one here," Thomas said. "Or are you planning to have me be the one hauling all of your bags to and fro?"

"Damn it, then, you've uncovered my great scheme," Jimmy said.

"Alright then," Thomas said. "I'll help you out, and I won't charge a penny."

"I'll still get you something. Maybe," Jimmy said.

"Wait, was I on that list?"

"No, but Santa Kent thinks you're a good guy, so why not?"

Thomas smiled slightly, the outer corner of his mouth turning upwards. "Let's go, mate. I want to see what monstrosity you get me so I can put it back on the shelf."

As he and Jimmy laughed, he pushed open the door, and was welcomed outside with a blast of frigid air.

"Shit! That's cold," Thomas cried out, teeth chattering like typewriter keys.

"You forgot your scarf, dummy," Jimmy said, holding the grey patterned fabric out for Thomas. Thomas took it and wrapped it around his neck.

"Where do we start, then?" Jimmy said.

The two of them set off down the road, as Thomas described what best to get for Jimmy's mother, with Jimmy hardly listening to a word Thomas said. He was, as cliché as it was, lost in Thomas's eyes and grateful just to be walking next to such a wonderful man.

Above, the silver clouds gathered in the sky. The first of thousands of snowflakes began to descend onto England, right down to Jimmy and Thomas.