Page 18 of Sunshine Boy

“If it offends you that much, you can pay me back. Or do whores pay back loans now?” He was unable to keep the frustration out of his voice and winced. He hoped Julian wouldn’t hold it against him. He’d been trying so hard to be good. Couldn’t Julian see how hard he was trying? “Look, you said yourself you won’t be able to go out as much so long as you’re behind on your rent. So just look at this as my investment in our continued courtship.”

Julian snorted. “Courtship? All right, Sir Lancelot. I’ll just pop round my parents’, get permission for you to walk out with me. Maybe have your family give mine a goat to ensure the match.” But he was smiling again, the heat gone out of him, so Michael didn’t take offence to his mockery.

He reached up and cradled the back of his neck, stepping into his space in the narrow hallway. He felt Julian’s muscles tense, ever so subtly, beneath his grip, even though his expression never changed. It was moments like these that made Michael question his sanity. What was it? What was there?

He tried to push these thoughts aside and not let them colour his actions as he leaned down and pressed his lips to Julian’s. The dark-haired boy kissed back, teasing Michael with just a hint of his tongue before he danced out of Michael’s grip and backed out the door, grinning at Michael with an unspoken promise of more once he got off work. It would have been no different from any other goodbye they’d shared, if not for that canny reticence in Julian’s eyes.

* * *

Rahul had been late, of course. Nearly an hour late by the time he finally made it in. Mel had predictably blown up at him. He took it on the chin like a good soldier, even if he couldn’t have agreed less with Mel’s assessment that he was a “prickless wonder” who was better off “scouring bogs at Wembley.” And then when Julian was later even than Rahul had been, Mel predictably only tutted at him as though she were a long-suffering school marm and he her naughty pupil. It made Rahul so mad he could spit. But he didn’t. Because if Rahul Chaand was one thing, he was a man of class. Yes, sir. A true gentleman. The kind you don’t see nowadays. The eighties truly were the apocalypse that so many science fiction writers had predicted, devoid of manners and civility. It wasn’t quite the motoristic hellscape Mad Max had envisioned, but Rahul thought he could fare pretty well in a post-apocalyptic society. His father had taught him to drive and he’d passed the exam on the first go. Not a lot of others could boast the same. He was practically Evel Knievel. Out on the streets they called him Rahul “Speed Demon” Chaand.

“What’re you muttering about over there?” Julian asked, laughter written in his toothy grin.

Rahul’s cheeks heated, not having realised he had been speaking out loud. Again. He really ought to break himself of that habit before he accidentally said something too embarrassing to come away from. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“You did. I heard you. Pretending to read your little smart person book, mumbling away to yourself.”

“Your hearing’s gone, small fry. All that loud music finally done your ears in, just like I always suspected it would.”

“Did you say something about being a ‘speed demon’?”

Rahul chucked his heavy Tolstoy volume at him, and Julian caught it deftly out of the air. Bollocks. He’d forgotten Julian had done sports in school.

Julian laughed and flipped idly through the book’s pages before deciding it held no interest for him and dropped it onto the counter. “Honestly, I don’t know why you go on talking to yourself when I’m right here. You could just talk to me. I don’t care if you’ve just got a load of rubbish to say.”

“Thanks,” Rahul said acerbically.

“Come on, you know I talk rubbish all day long. You can’t even stop the rubbish coming out of me. I’m like a skip with great hair. If I stand outside for too long the bin men try and haul me away.”

Rahul laughed along with him, enjoying the levity that came with spending time with Julian. It made a nice break from Henri’s dour intensity. It’s fine and well to enjoy a bottle of red wine, but sometimes you just wanted a can of fizzy pop to refresh yourself with.

“Or maybe you’re busy saying all sorts of smart things to yourself and you don’t think I’d get it.”

“Now you really are talking nonsense,” Rahul admonished.

“You’re smarter than me. Everybody knows it. I don’t mind. I like being mates with the smartest bloke around.” Julian nudged Rahul’s elbow with his own where it rested on the counter. Rahul expected him to flash one of his usual cheeky grins, the kind he’d been teasing Rahul with since they were kids, but what he got instead was a coy little smile, one that saw him bite his lip and quickly look away.

Rahul swallowed heavily, hearing his own throat working in the sudden quiet. “Come on, Julesy. We all give you a hard time, but you know you’re far more clever than you give yourself credit for.”

“Nah. You’ve heard Mel. I’ve got nothing but candy floss up here.” He tapped his own forehead.

“Jules --”

“It’s fine. Honestly. I’ve had loads of time to come to terms with being the thick one around here. It doesn’t bother me anymore. Really.”

“Jules.” He filled his voice with as much command as he could. It worked, and Julian turned to look at him. He was smiling still, but there was just the slightest edge of exhaustion to his eyes, a subtle dulling of their brilliance. “You’re not stupid. Could a stupid person write such incredible songs? Or know so much about music? Or remember every ridiculous fact about Adam Ant?”

“His mum used to clean Paul McCartney’s flat. Imagine that!”

“See what I mean? Could you store that much useless information in your noggin’ if you weren’t at least a little bit clever?”

Julian ducked his head, grinning despite himself. “Yeah. All right. Thanks, Rahul. You really are a diamond, you know that?”

“And you’re a glittery ponce.”

Julian barked out a surprised laugh that turned into a full belly laugh. He shoved Rahul’s arm so his elbow slipped off the counter. Rahul shoved him back, laughing himself, nearly sending Julian sprawling. They kept laughing and shoving until they were breathless and their ribs ached. Mel even had to shout from her office for them to keep the ruddy noise down, didn’t they know there were people trying to work around here?

As their laughter finally died down, they found they were just looking at each other, neither willing to be the first to look away. Rahul was struck for the millionth time by how beautiful Julian was. Truly. Especially on days like today, when he was fresh-faced and dressed down, just the subtlest shadow of stubble on his jaw. He looked more real. He looked like something you could reach out and touch, rather than the ephemeral faery flitting from one moonlit grove to the next. On days like today he was just the boy Rahul had fallen in love with -- a South End yob with a core of sweetness running straight through him.