Much Smaller Things, page 17
Tom chucked his sports bag onto the back seat of his car, then climbed in, amazed at how not-nervous he felt. Alfie had been keeping him distracted, after all. Everything seemed brighter and just better with Alfie there. He had helped him realise there were reasons for doing things other than because his dad said so or because someone else had told him to. He could do things because he wanted to, no matter what anyone else thought.
And for the first time in a long time, when they pulled up outside Fernsby Academy and they had parted with a kiss, Tom walked into the changing rooms filled with nothing but elation. Not even the sight of Jason and the others larking about in the corner could dampen his glow today. Alfie was going to be out there. Everything was going to be great.
Shit. Alfie is going to be out there.
What if he played like crap and embarrassed himself in front of his new…? Boyfriend? Tom gave himself a quick mental shake. He knew it wouldn’t matter how he played, knew Alfie would be supportive no matter what. And if he did make a fool of himself, they could laugh about it together later.
Still, the nerves arrived as Tom stood with the others, waiting while Mr Cooper gave his final pep talk. After weeks and weeks of practice, the day had finally arrived. The sun had come out, and luckily, it had stopped snowing long enough for the pitch to be cleared and just about suitable for play.
As he followed his team out, Tom couldn’t help but scan the stands for Alfie. It wasn’t hard to spot him; the stands were pretty empty as usual, and also, Tom would know Alfie anywhere.
For a moment, Alfie seemed a little sad, a little lonely, as if he were feeling out of place again, surrounded by families and friends cheering. But then he caught Tom’s eye and everyone else seemed to disappear.
Tom grinned and waved.
Alfie grinned and waved back, and Tom could tell he was not the only one who had been calmed.
The sight of his own scarf wrapped around Alfie’s neck, protecting him against the harsh December chill, melted some of the cold Tom had been feeling. Alfie was there—there to see him, to support him. And Tom knew, whether he won or lost today, it didn’t matter. It only mattered that Alfie was happy.
But then again, Tom couldn’t pretend he didn’t want to impress him. Maybe it would be nice if they could try to win.
“Tom!” Max shouted from somewhere to his left. “Come on, mate!”
He snapped out of his daydream. “Sorry.”
The whistle blew.
Never before had Tom played a game of football without his dad there watching him, but he soon found he couldn’t care less. Tom was there. Alfie was there. And Tom knew he could do this.
Fernsby put up a fight, but today Tom had wings. And he soared.
The ninety minutes went by in a blur of sweat, mud, and cheering.
Tom scored the final goal.
St. Andrew’s won.
23
Alfie
The match had finished half an hour ago, and Alfie was still waiting outside the changing room door. A huddle of friends and family members hovered nearby, doing as he was, but Alfie felt worlds away from all of them. And not just because he had placed himself physically apart.
He leant against the brick wall of the sports building, his breaths coming out as clouds in the evening air, and wished Tom would hurry up just a little bit.
But then, the doors flew open and the football team piled out.
All chattering and thumping each other on the back, Tom’s teammates surrounded him. Alfie couldn’t care less about football, but the smile on Tom’s face made him warm inside.
Separate from the cluster around Tom, another group of about six lads were laughing loudly at something a boy with gelled hair was saying. Alfie recognised him at once from the photo on Tom’s wall. So that was Jason? And there were Max and Connor, too. The boys who had ditched Tom and made him feel so unworthy.
Alfie looked around, searching for Tom again. He was now directly in the centre of the huddle of boys, some of whom were Fernsby players. None of them seemed to hate Tom. At the moment, they all seemed to adore him.
“—and Tom didn’t pass to me that whole game!” Jason and his mates had moved close enough for Alfie to hear every word of his pathetic whine. “It’s such bullshit.”
“You killed it anyway, mate,” said one lad.
“And we won,” said another.
“Obviously I’m pleased we won,” said Jason. “I just wish he didn’t get to soak up all the glory.”
“He is the captain,” said Connor.
Huh. That was news to him. He smiled to himself. Of course Tom was the captain. His… were they boyfriends? His maybe-boyfriend was very talented and a wonderful person—the perfect person to lead a team.
“He’s only captain because Mr Cooper feels sorry for him,” Jason spat. “Everyone thinks he’s so special now just because he sucks dick.”
A few of the lads guffawed while Alfie scowled. He couldn’t believe Tom would ever be friends with people like that. Maybe it was a massive blessing they had all ditched him. On the other hand, Max and Connor looked a bit uncomfortable. But they weren’t saying anything against Jason, either.
Alfie glanced over his shoulder, checked no one was watching, then gathered a handful of snow from a low nearby wall—and lobbed it at the back of Jason’s head.
“Ow!” Jason cried. “What the fuck?” He spun about, the back of his hair dripping.
Alfie shoved his hands back into his pockets and turned away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason narrow his eyes at him, but Alfie kept walking until he neared Tom’s huddle.
“You coming out?” Alfie heard one of the lads say. “Pizza Express. Sir said he’s buying.”
“I would, mate,” said Tom. “But I can’t. I… I have a date.”
A cacophony of laddish jeering went up in a big “Wa-hey!” and Tom disappeared once more under a torrent of back pats and head rubs.
Someone yelled, “Who’s the lucky lady?”
But then another voice piped up and cried, “Or the lucky fella!” And then everyone burst out laughing a little too loudly, a little too uproariously. Only Jason and his mates stayed on the sidelines, scoffing between themselves.
Meanwhile, Alfie could feel Tom’s embarrassment from where he was standing, and was sympathetic to the bright red hue of Tom’s face. He spotted Alfie and hurried over.
“That was very brave,” said Alfie.
“Maybe stupid,” Tom mumbled. Behind him, his teammates continued watching them from afar, apparently shocked Alfie was actually a ‘fella.’
Alfie tried to ignore them. “So, you have a date, do you? Who is this lucky person?”
“You,” said Tom without hesitation. “If you say yes.”
“Yes. I would like to go on a date with you.”
Clearly relieved, Tom beamed. Still doing his best to block out the rather laddish attention they were getting, Alfie took Tom’s hand and the two of them set off across the school towards the car park.
“You know,” said Alfie. “You could have gone to get pizza with the others if you wanted.”
“I want to hang out with you.” Tom sighed. “I did consider inviting you to pizza with them lot, but I didn’t think you’d want that.”
“Yeah. That was probably smart thinking.”
“And to be honest,” said Tom, looking at his feet. “I don’t really want to spend any more time with them than I have to.”
Alfie frowned. “Some of those boys don’t seem too bad, Tom. Most of them don’t seem to hate you at all. Some of them seem to like you a lot, actually. Jason’s just… very loud.”
Tom shook his head. “They’re not really like that most of the time. That was just post-game hype. Most of us don’t talk outside of practice.”
“Well, you were definitely right about Jason,” said Alfie. “He’s a fucking arsehole.”
Tom laughed. “Told you so.”
“But I do still think he’s jealous.”
Tom gave Alfie’s hand a small squeeze. “Yeah. Maybe. But I don’t care what he thinks anymore. At least, I’m trying not to.”
Alfie squeezed back.
“So,” said Tom. “What did you think of the match?”
Alfie grinned. “You were very good. You scored a lot of points.”
“They’re called goals, Alfie.” Tom laughed affectionately. “You could have been watching anything, hey?”
“Oh, leave me alone!”
Tom nudged him with his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for saying so, though. Did you manage to have a good time, at least?”
“Yeah. I actually did. Mostly because it seemed like you were having a nice time. I liked watching you do something you clearly love. It was very… um, well… never mind.”
“No, tell me. What were you gonna say?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Go on. Tell me.”
“Tom—!”
“Alfie…!”
“Hot,” said Alfie. “I was gonna say it was very hot, okay? You’re fucking gorgeous anyway, but—stop looking at me like that.” Alfie clamped both hands over his cheeks in an attempt to hide the fire burning in them. But he had made Tom blush too, and they were both grinning massive grins. “Besides, it was very impressive how well you all did, considering Fernsby is a sports academy.”
Tom shrugged. “I suppose so. We’ve never managed to beat them before. I think you may be a bit of a good luck charm. I haven’t played like that in ages. I was so focused.”
Alfie snorted. “I didn’t do anything other than—”
“Be there,” said Tom. “You were there, Alfie, when you didn’t have to be.”
“I wanted to be.”
“Well, I’m still really grateful.”
They had crossed the car park and were reaching Tom’s car when Alfie stopped dead, his hand outstretched for the door handle.
He did a double take. Cars were moving all around them, lots of people trying to get out of the small car park at the same time.
Between the headlights, on a grass verge, stood Liam Kelly.
His face half in shadow, he scowled down at the phone in his hands, one fist balled at his side, a denim jacket framing his broad shoulders.
Feet rooted to the spot, heart pounding, Alfie grabbed onto the sleeve of Tom’s hoodie.
“What is it?” Tom’s tone morphed into startled concern. “Alfie?”
A few cars moved away and then… Alfie blinked. The man was quite clearly not Liam at all. It was just some stranger in a denim jacket. Possibly someone’s older brother, waiting for them to be done at the match.
Alfie tried to open his mouth, to form words, but all he managed was a pathetic little whimper. He bundled himself into Tom’s chest and, without hesitation, without question, Tom wrapped his arms around him. “Alfie, you’re shaking.”
Alfie screwed his eyes shut and let the soothing sensation of Tom’s hand in his hair, at his back, make everything else melt away. He didn’t know how long they stood there by the car, holding each other, but eventually the tension drained away into a dull sort of hum.
“You okay?” Tom kissed Alfie’s head.
And Alfie nodded because, at that moment, he was okay. He was safe there, with Tom. But there was still a voice at the back of his head, louder than he’d like it to be.
You can’t pretend forever.
24
Tom
Where are you taking me?”
“On a date, remember? It’s a surprise.”
Tom tried to rein in both his excitement and his nerves as he drove back towards town. Maybe Alfie wouldn’t like his plan. But then again, maybe he would. Tom thought he might.
He glanced at the passenger seat.
Alfie’s hands were clasped tightly in his lap as he looked out the window, restless. “I’m not sure I like surprises,” he said. “Seriously, where are we going?”
Tom’s stomach dropped. “We’re almost there now anyway. It’s the last night of the Christmas market tonight. I thought we could have a wander and maybe get some food?”
He looked over again in time to see Alfie’s look of surprise—before something else overtook it and Alfie seemed struck, quiet, overwhelmed.
That moment back in the car park, when Alfie had been so afraid. The way he’d been shaking, clinging to him. Tom had no idea what Alfie had seen for him to react like that, or what he had remembered. He’d had no idea what to do other than hold on to him.
“If you want to go somewhere else, that’s fine,” said Tom. “Or we could just go home, I really don’t mind.”
“Tom, no… I—I’d like to go. I just—thank you for telling me. I know you wanted to keep it a surprise, and it’s… very sweet and amazing of you, really. I just… I can’t do surprises, okay?” And then Alfie added quickly, “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. I understand. I’m sorry for not thinking.”
Luckily, Tom found a place to park with little searching, and the two of them set off toward the market proper. At the entrance, in a ring of twinkling pine trees and wooden food huts, a choir sang carols, accompanied by a brass band. Tom glimpsed plates and cups in the hands of each passer-by, filled with all manner of wonderful, Christmasy treats. Everything smelt divine. People were wrapped up warm, arm in arm with partners and friends, or else anxiously hanging onto the hands of excitable children in the bustling crowd.
“What do you fancy?” asked Tom.
“Literally everything.”
Alfie eyed the massive circular German sausage stall and the smells coming from it, and Tom grinned, leading them over.
There was nowhere to sit, so they found an empty curb side to stand and eat their hot dogs. Through the noise of the choir and the chattering crowd, they couldn’t talk too much. Instead, they stood in comfortable quiet, content to watch the barrage of people going past.
When they finished eating, they wandered further onwards, stopping to peruse the various stalls. The majority sold food and drink, but lots were selling Christmas decorations, cards, trees, lights, jewellery, clothes, and many hand-crafted items.
Alfie seemed fascinated by all of it.
Tom had been to several Christmas markets before, Stamford’s many times over the years, but he had never paid as much attention to things as Alfie was doing right now. Tom was more than happy to let Alfie take his time, entertained enough just by watching Alfie enjoy himself. And also by the lack of self-consciousness he himself was feeling with Alfie’s hand in his, standing closer than they normally would due to the lack of space. The fact that any number of people he knew from school might be there, too, barely crossed his mind. And when it did, he realised he didn’t care.
As Tom watched Alfie study every inch of a stall selling intricately handmade notebooks, Tom realised how little he actually knew about this boy. His maybe-boyfriend. But all the things Tom didn’t know were only face-value things. Like his surname, his parents’ names, what they did for a living, whether they were alive. He knew Alfie in other ways. In the ways which mattered perhaps more, he thought. Tom knew him in all the ways he needed to know to adore him.
A little while later, they came across a hut selling hot chocolate without much of a queue, and so Tom ordered two steaming cups with all the trimmings. Marshmallows, cream, cinnamon, chocolate sprinkles and a reindeer-shaped biscuit to top it all off.
Alfie held his cup in both hands and took a careful sip. He came away with a white nose and a massive grin on his face. “Wow,” he sighed. “This is even better than yours.”
“I should hope so.” Tom laughed. “This was like four times the price.”
“Oh. Well, thank you. This is so delicious, and so warm.”
They managed to find one half of a picnic bench to perch on and finish their drinks. It gave them an excuse to sit close together, and once they’d discarded their empty cups, their hands found each other as naturally as breathing.
It was getting late, but the crowd showed no signs of letting up. Tom wondered what Alfie might have been doing if Tom had never asked him over. How would Alfie be spending Christmas if they had never met? Alone? Cold? Afraid?
Tom fiddled with the piece of cardboard that had been wrapped around his hot chocolate cup and tried to force down his curiosity.
“What is it?” Alfie nudged his shoulder playfully. “Go on. Spit it out.”
Their sides were pressed together, Alfie’s arm around his waist. They had been having such a lovely evening, and Tom didn’t want to ruin it. “Could I… ask you something?”
“Of course you can.”
“Y-you don’t have to answer, not if you don’t want to, but why—?” Tom cut himself off and started again. “How did you end up…?”
“In my situation?”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Tom needed him to understand. “But I am willing to listen if you—if you ever do, and I’m… I can’t pretend I’m not curious. And as your boyf—I mean, I do care about you. A lot. About all of you. Every part.”
In the resulting silence, Tom wanted to dismiss the whole conversation, to go back to their evening, but instead he let Alfie think, process.
“I do want to tell you,” he said. “It’s just… some things are hard. Like, really hard to talk about.”
Tom nodded.
“The thing is… The things I’ve done. The things I’ve been through. People tend to look at people differently when they learn stuff like that and… I like the way you look at me now, Tom. I don’t want that to change, and I’m scared that if I do tell you, it will.”
Tom reaffirmed his arm around Alfie’s waist and kissed his cheek. “I’m not going to judge you, I promise. It isn’t about what you’ve done or what you’ve experienced. It’s just… well, partly because I want to know you better and partly because… I can tell you’ve been hurt. Badly. And I’m so scared I’m going to accidentally… repeat it.”
“Oh, Tom.” Alfie lifted a hand to touch Tom’s cheek. “You could never. Honestly, please don’t worry about that.” His eyes shone in the Christmas lights. “I will tell you. One day, I promise. Just not tonight, okay?”
