Chapter 11

James woke up. Michael was already sitting up, with his forearms resting on his knees, he looked tense. “What’s wrong?” Asked James.

“You think we did the right thing” Wandered Michel. “I mean, running away. Do you think that our parents would have listened to us.”

James sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe they would accept us, but prejudice isn’t lost easily.”

“But what if they were just like that for a moment and would calm down soon.” Exclaimed Michael, scratching his shin and sweating slightly.

“Michael listen.” Said James, looking Michael in the eye. “You know it was going to be hell back there, and maybe child services would take us away, then what would happen, we’d be separated so much, we can’t lose each other, no matter what.”

“Yeah.” Mumbled Michael. “You’re right. Besides, we can’t turn back now. We took a leap of faith. But at least we’re holding hands for it.” They embrace and stayed their hugging until Andrew walked into the room.

“Morning boys.” He looked over at them and paused. “I’m not interrupting anything am I.”

“No.” Yawned Michael. “We’ve probably got to get up now. We can make breakfast.”

“Thank you.” Smiled Andrew.

“It’s the least we can do.” Replied Michael, rising up with a grin on his face.

James toasted some bread, making sure to add the yolk on top after the white had cooked, so the yolk would be even more runny. Meanwhile, Michael brewed some tea and laid the table. They sat down, and James smiled as he saw Andrew beaming as he mopped up the egg yolk with his bread.

“Andrew. We want to thank you for making us feel at home. It means a lot to know that we fit in.” James gratified Andrew.

Andrew waved his hand and laughed. “I really do enjoy the company. Me and Jack never had children of our own, but if they turned out like you, we would have been so proud.”

“That might just be the nicest thing somebody other than Michael has said to me.” James exclaimed, with a feeling of satisfaction in his heart. Michael and Andrew both smiled, and they continued chatting and eating their breakfasts on that worn down, wooden table for the best part of an hour, before Michael insisted on washing everything up.

Andrew took them on a walk around the town. They first walked past the Black Gate pub. It was a red brick building, that stood in a prominent part of the village. The walls were covered in blackboards of meals ad special nights or were covered in ivy. The slate tiles of the roof were very worn down and uneven, as if they were just the misshapes of the rock, that were on offer. Dotted between the asymmetrical brickwork were small black windows with glass that looked like the wind could shatter it, but its stained presence suggested it had been there for longer. James put his elbows on a wooden barrel outside and peered in. There was nobody in there and it looked like a fairly ordinary pub, taps at the bar a mix of barstools, and tables to eat at and a beer garden in the back. The only thing that seemed odd was that the whole floor was covered in a floral carpet that had muddy boot stains all over it but giving the pub a more comfy and homely feel.

They walked past the church. Made of small stones stuck together, with a small steeple at the far end, that could well have been made out of the same material as the pub roof, and the whole roof was covered in moss and lichen. The church had a few small windows around the edges and a large window with a cross hatching design above the old oak door, which was worryingly at an angle, looking like a simple push could bring it crashing down. And right at the top of the steeple there was a small cross which was damaged and had the ends break off, making oit more like a strong line at the very top of the building. It was Sunday morning so they could hear the drone of the priest inside the church, and the occasional hymn.

Graves were dotted around the structure. Most too covered in moss and lichen, though those people lived lives, with emotions like the boys, they had long since been forgotten, and disappeared. It’s an oddly saddening feeling that James felt; that he would end up like that, but then he remembered, that’s why he had to live in the now and seek purpose in what he has. He had Michael, so that’s how he sought purpose, without him, James would have no purpose, that’s why he meant it whenever he told Michael he was ‘his all’.

All but one grave was poorly kept. That grave was new and only had a wooden marking because it hadn’t set yet. It read ‘Jack Whitely �" My All’, and below ‘1939-2022’. It had a bunch of roses in a pot and it’s own small flowerbed above it, and some perfectly curated stones and memorabilia of Jacks life, from photos of them to souvenirs from adventures. Andrew explained how Jack was never religious, but in his will, he wrote ‘bury me where we met, because even in death I will never stop falling in love with you’. Andrew visited it everyday and kept the flowers in order, he said it gave him a role and believed Jack would have done the same for him. A moving story, a theme that had seemed to become common with these stories surrounding Jack. James opened his mouth to say how much they loved each other, but then stopped, because he realised it was the thought in everybody’s mind.

The roads of the village had a few more modern sturdy looking houses, but the majority resembled Andrew’s half-timber cottage. They all had those black metal windows and puffy thatched rooves, with that oddly cute asymmetrical stance, that made the building look like it could collapse if somebody pushed it hard enough. They mostly had well kept gardens, with lawns and vibrant flower beds, except for a few where weeds and ivy had spread themselves out across the ground and had even begun to crawl up the walls, but these were the gardens with the most butterflies and bees bringing the whole scene to life. On a few of the lawns there were men basking in the glorious light reading the paper wih the occasional chortle of tut and shaking of the head. It felt like a small English village.

They went to the pub for lunch. James got a pie, Michael got a burger and Andrew got a Ploughman’s, they talked as they ate. Andrew went on a whim about his love of David Bowie, and why he was the greatest musician of all time, for fifteen minutes, while the boys listened with genuine interest. Then they moved on to the future.

“We’ll be leaving this afternoon, and we just wanted to thank you for letting us stay the night.” Said Michael.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Replied Andrew. Reinstating what he had said numerous times. “You can stay for longer if you wish.”

“We’ll be fine. We’ve got a lot to accomplish. Things that can’t be done in a village in the Midlands” Turned down Michael.

“I understand. I was there once.” He remembered and seemed to faze off into a daze for a moment, before returning. “I wish you too all the best, and I will think about you every day. If you ever need anything, call me, but by the time you visit I will probably be dead. I will lie next to Jack, so if you ever fell like visiting you can.”

They returned and James and Michael tidied up the house, and packed bags, with some extra gifts and money that had been given to them, and they had received with the utmost gratitude. They said their goodbyes and left to continue their journey through the pristine fields and forests of England.