Page 7 of Sunshine Boy

Rahul felt his stomach lurch. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He looked down at the book in his hands instead of Julian’s huge, questioning eyes. “I mean. Maybe you would like to come with me to my mum’s house. For Christmas dinner. But you don’t have to. If you don’t want. It was only an idea. Forget it. It was stupid. Never mind --”

“I’d like that.”

“Sorry?” Rahul wasn’t sure he’d heard him, he’d spoken so softly. He chanced looking back at Julian and found him smiling. Not his usual infectious grin, but something small and fragile as a snowflake.

“I said ‘all right’.”

Julian’s gaze on him was soft, too, and Rahul felt hot suddenly, tugging at the collar of his jumper. “Good. Great. Christmas it is. You don’t have to bring anything. Unless you want to.”

“Reckon I should give your mum some new pants?”

“Shut it,” Rahul snorted, but his lips twitched with an answering smile despite himself.

“You’re right. I should be getting your stepdad new pants. What do you reckon he likes better: flamingos or little kisses?”

Rahul kicked at Julian’s stool but didn’t manage to unseat him. Instead, he rang a little laugh from Julian, like the tinkle of a bell. It made Rahul’s heart swell. “Is that what’s on your pants, eh? Not goth smiley faces or little fish with mohawks?”

“I get my pants made to order. By pants elves. They have a special shop in Lapland right next to Father Christmas’s. Only they’re shunned by the other elves. It’s quite sad, really.”

“No more respect for the craft of pants-making in this day and age. It’s a right shame. Back in my day, pants-making was honest work.”

“Back in your day? We’re the same age, you bellend.”

“I’m an old soul, small fry.”

“You’re an old wanker, is what you are.”

Julian’s smile was very nearly a grin when he went back to scratching a blocky “J” into the skirting board with an old biro. For a single, wonderful moment, it was like nothing had changed and they were the same Julian and Rahul they always were. But then the silence lengthened and the moment dissolved like so much sand in the surf, making Rahul’s chest constrict. He’d get him back. Even if it meant having to forget about loving him.

Chapter Four: Last Christmas

They walked to Rahul’s mother’s home mostly in silence. The streets were hushed, lampposts illuminating a reluctant flurry that threatened to break out into a full snow at any moment. Julian had the hood of his parka up, hiding his face from view. Rahul kept throwing worried, sidelong glances at him as if he might disappear when he wasn’t looking. He kept nervously readjusting the parcels under his arm.

“She’ll be pleased to see you,” Rahul reassured Julian for the hundredth time since he’d met him at the train.

The hood of Julian’s parka nodded.

Rahul hated these silences. Before… everything, you’d be hard-pressed to shut Julian up. Now he was always quiet, thinking. At least tonight would be a distraction from trying to decipher whatever was going on inside that head of his.

Rahul rapped on the red door set into the brick front of the house. It opened in moments, revealing the warm, cheerily lit interior and the stout form of his stepfather, Ron, along with two yapping little balls of fluff that Ron had to keep back with his foot.

Ron’s bristly eyebrows drew up, which was the most delight he was capable of expressing. “Ah,” he said, by way of greeting. “Come on in out of the cold then, boys.”

Once they were safely inside and shedding their coats, dogs nipping at their heels, Rahul and Ron shook hands stiffly.

“Good to see you, sir,” Rahul said.

“And you, my boy.”

“What’s all this?” Julian smiled. “A military parade?” He went in and hugged Ron, who showed he was startled by stiffening minutely. He was pleased, though, Rahul could tell, because he didn’t pull away.

“Is that you?” Rahul’s mother’s warm, accented voice preceded her before she sashayed into the hall, her festive sari twinkling in the golden lamplight and reflecting in her golden smile. “I thought I heard your voice. How lovely to see you.” Rahul held out his arms for his mother’s embrace but was pushed aside as she pulled Julian into a crushing hug.

“Cheers, Mrs. Chaand -- sorry, Mrs. Field,” Julian said, hugging her back just as tightly.

Rahul rolled his eyes. Even in his mother’s home, Julian was everyone’s favourite.

“I haven’t seen you since you were a boy,” Mum was saying, trying to pat Julian’s hair flat even as Julian was trying to dart away from her hands. “Look at you. So skinny! Do you not eat? Come, dinner is almost ready. We must put food in you.”