December 19: The Christmas Ex Rock

Pairing:Thomas/Jimmy

Rating: T for strong language, and Jimmy doing some more drinking.

It probably had nothing to do with his epiphany, but Jimmy began to realize that, ever since he had begun to question his sexuality, he ended up sitting at a pub with a tall glass of beer in his hands. He wasn't the type to frequent pubs, especially alone, but since the day that he confessed to Thomas that he held romantic feelings for men ( and later broke up with Ivy), he had spent an hour or so every evening at the pub close to his house. It was, at least some form of, social life, and it was better than sitting at home and wondering who his next romantic partner would be and when he – or she, as Jimmy had not ruled out bisexuality – would appear to him like Gabriel coming to Mary.

That was why tonight he was still sitting by himself, half-absorbed in the football game playing on the telly. He liked this pub, which is why he kept coming back night after night, but it wasn't a fantastically popular place. Young people did not flit in and out like bees to a field of fresh flowers here, and that was major one downside of living in this small town that caused Jimmy to often think about leaving. Meeting a new person was like meeting a celebrity. Even so, he would have been glad for some company, even with Thomas, but he was working at the restaurant, and Jimmy did not know who else to talk to, as Thomas was the only one aware of his sexuality crisis.

Somehow, Jimmy's eyes got attached to the television screen on some advertisement, and he didn't realize someone was tapping his shoulder until he was practically punched in the arm.

"Watch it, mate," Jimmy snapped, and whirled around.

"Hey, easy. Sorry about that, but you were quite enraptured by that IKEA commercial. I remember you from somewhere, though. Are you a friend of Thomas Barrow? I'm Philip Crowborough, we've probably met before."

Jimmy sat shock still. He knew this face; he recognized him from Thomas's old Facebook photos, and in fact had met him before, while Philip and Thomas were together.

"Uh … yeah, I know Thomas," stuttered Jimmy. He hoped that the alcohol hadn't fucked up his mind and would cause him to say something stupid. "I'm Jimmy Kent." For courtesy's sake, he held out a hand.

"Nice to see you here," Philip said, shaking Jimmy's outstretched hand.

Jimmy was unsure of what to say next. Fortunately, whatever drink Philip had had before (Jimmy could smell something on his breath) must have loosened his tongue.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Philip asked, not waiting for an answer from Jimmy before taking the stool right next to him. "I see you around now and then. I notice you've been coming here a lot recently."

"Yeah," Jimmy muttered. He did not appreciate having Thomas's ex sitting next to him, and he wished he could drink enough to drown out Philip's chit-chat, or be sick in order to have an excuse to stumble home.

"Any big fun Christmas plans?" Philip asked, leaning towards Jimmy.

"No," Jimmy said slowly, feeling suspicion creeping up behind him. Just like Philip's wandering fingers. He turned away a bit to avoid any physical contact.

"Hm," Philip murmured. "Me neither, nothing major like last year. I was in London with my folks, but I decided to take a break from all that posh and gold and shit. Why I'm staying here, as a matter of fact. Cutty Sark this time, please," he said to the barman. "And one for my friend."

"I don't need that, thanks," Jimmy said. To be well honest, he was not appreciative of how close Philip was getting. What was this fuckery? Why was Philip getting so close to him in the first place? Didn't he know of the concept of personal space. Evidently not.

"I think it's time you had something other than a plain beer," Philip pressed on.

"I said I don't need it," Jimmy repeated, this time with slight aggression in his tone. Philip raised an eyebrow.

"Suit yourself," he said, making light of his rejection. "My ex used to really like having me buy him drinks, though I suppose that was just so he didn't have to pay."

"Thomas, you mean," said Jimmy through gritted teeth. He was unable to pinpoint why he suddenly felt like punching Philip in the gut.

"Yeah, Thomas," Philip said, one corner of his mouth turning up in an ironic smile. "We were good mates. Had lots of great times. I liked Thomas a lot, even if he can be a manipulative bastard."

"Then why did you break up with him?" Jimmy interrogated. In his mind he churned the words manipulative bastard. In his opinion, that label was better fit for Philip Crowborough.

Philip waved it off. "What does it matter? It's over. It was for a long time. I just couldn't break it off easy with Thomas, that's all."

Jimmy clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles began to whiten and strain. "You really hurt him, you know."

"Sticks and stones. It happens to everyone. I'm just not that guy for him."

"Damn right."

Philip drained his glass of Cutty Sark. "I don't want to be the villain. But somebody has to do it."

Jimmy sat in quietude, observing Philip's careful movements. Even with alcohol in his system, Philip was composed, his posture unrivaled, even if nothing but shit was coming from his mouth. It was no surprise that Thomas had liked Philip, as Philip was handsome, if only on the outside. But it was odd that he acted as if he hadn't gone out with Thomas for over a year. Dating someone for that long would certainly lead to a few personal conversations of varying preferences.

"Hey … can I ask you something?" Jimmy asked, uncertain if he was being an idiot.

"Sure, what?"

"What does Thomas like? As a gift? Like for Christmas."

Philip looked straight into Jimmy's eyes. "As a friend or a partner?" he inquired, giving the other man a teasing look.

"As a good friend," Jimmy concluded. "As someone who really care about him."

Philip chuckled. "Let's see …" He traced the rim of his empty glass with his index finger. "I remember something he said to me a few months ago, but I can't remember why. He said that his father was a watch designer or something, and he always liked clocks and such. Kind of macabre, if you think about it. Liking clocks, liking the passage of time."

"Okay," Jimmy said, halting Philip's diversion from the main topic. "Does he, like, have a watch?"

"Not a fancy one," Philip said. "Maybe I would have bought him a Cartier one, if I thought he was worth it."

"Huh." Jimmy thought, Watches are nice. Thomas could use a fancy accessory like that. Pretty damn expensive, though.

"So, do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?" Philip asked, being quite direct.

Jimmy blinked, wide-eyed and more astonished than if someone had proposed to him in the middle of the street. He knew what Philip was asking: he recognized this type of behavior, from men and women alike, and from his initial impression of the guy, he wasn't going to give him a single inch.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Jimmy said. He gulped down the rest of his beer.

"Oh," Philip said, surprised but unconvinced. "What are you doing?"

"Last minute Christmas shopping," Jimmy answered, slapping a note on the counter. He started to exit the pub.

"Hey, wait," Philip said sternly. Jimmy turned around, and asked, crudely, "What do you want?"

"Are you really going to be this way with Thomas?" Philip asked. "How long have you known him. He can be a senseless, megalomaniac bastard. He's been involved in some crazy shit, believe me."

"I don't, actually," Jimmy said. "I dunno what he was like with you, but he's a nice guy. Deep down. It took me a while to uncover that about him. He just needs someone who cares."

And with that, not bothering to say goodbye or acknowledge Philip, Jimmy walked

outside, the snow crunching beneath his heavy shoes.

"I don't give a shit about going broke," Jimmy said to himself. "Thomas is going to have a watch all wrapped up and waiting for him on Christmas day. He deserves it."

It was certainly good tidings that the relationship between Philip and Thomas had ended.