Gaudete (6 page)

Callum snorted his opinion of that.

“Naomi has to give a sermon soon, because she’s head of the girls’ choir. She’s stuck with her speech. Um, I’m in a new dorm now, with James and Edmund, which is cool, though Edmund snores a lot. I don’t know what to say, Callum.”

But it had been enough just hearing him talk for a bit, that cool, quiet, hesitant voice soothing Callum’s mood. He stood up, taking a deep breath and then letting it out with a groan. “S’okay, now. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For, I don’t know, being Jonah.”

“I can’t help that,” Jonah said, and his mouth twitched a little at the sides. “It just comes naturally.”

Callum elbowed him again, because he wasn’t funny. “Shut up, you. What do you want for Christmas this year?”

“A solo.”

“I can’t get you that. Not unless you want me to blackmail Dr. Andrewson.”

“How would you do that?”

Callum shrugged. “I’d find a way.”

“I’m sure you would,” Jonah agreed, “but let’s not. I don’t want to get expelled.”

“They’d never expel you,” Callum said confidently. “I haven’t been expelled from anywhere yet, so you’re definitely safe.”

They’d been let out unsupervised this year, so they’d wandered down through town until they hit the river. It wasn’t much of a river, Callum thought, but it would do, and it made a pretty good racket going through the weir down here.

“Want to see me run across the weir?” he offered.

“No,” Jonah said firmly.

“I bet I could.”

“Yeah, but if it went wrong, you’d have to rely on me to pull you out.”

“I bet
you
could.”

“No,” Jonah said again, and that was that. “What do you want, then?”

“A dog,” Callum said glumly. “Just like every year, but Mum still thinks I won’t look after it. A dog is for life, Callum, not just for Christmas. As if I don’t know that.”

“I’d like a dog one day,” Jonah said, and he sounded sad again. Well, given how he didn’t really have a home to go to, it probably was too much for him to hope for a dog.

“You can share mine,” Callum offered. “If I ever get one.”

Jonah shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered something.

“What was that?”

“I said, I’m just for Christmas too, aren’t I?”

“What?” Callum said blankly. It was like Jonah had just smacked him. “Are you insane?”

Jonah muttered again.

“You are
not
just for Christmas. You’re for always. We’re mates, aren’t we? Just because I only see you at Christmas, doesn’t mean we aren’t mates the rest of the time!”

“Yeah?” Jonah said, and he didn’t sound all that sure.

“Yeah!” Callum insisted, and stopped dead as a brilliant idea hit him. “In fact, we don’t have to see each other just at Christmas anymore, do we? We’re not babies. I can get the bus up here any time. We could hang out for the rest of the year too.”

“Really?” Jonah asked, but he was starting to smile again.

“Of course,” Callum said. “Hey, I could come and hear your solo.”

“If I get it.”

“You will.”

This year might have been rubbish, but next year, with so much more Jonah in it, was going to be the best year ever.

B
Y
THE
time they left the pub, the streets were quiet. Even the last of the Christmas shoppers were long gone, and the only noise was from the occasional workplace Christmas party spilling out into the streets. Frost was already gleaming faintly between the cobbles on the High Street, and their breath plumed in front of them.

Above them, on the hilltop, the cathedral was illuminated, seeming to float above the clustered roofs of the old town like a ship sailing across the Downs. They walked back toward it hand in hand, and even Callum had gone quiet, not needing to say anything much.

As they climbed the steps onto the cathedral green, the sound of young voices raised in song met them. The choristers were lined up on the steps of the cathedral, singing “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.”

“Must be the end of the carol concert,” Jonah said quietly. “‘Once in Royal David’s City’ and ‘We Wish You Merry,’ and they’ll be done.”

“You did that one, didn’t you?” Callum asked. “Want to stay and listen?”

Jonah nodded, and they joined the back of the quiet crowd gathered around the steps. Applause greeted the end of the song, and then one boy stepped forward from the group. He didn’t look nervous, despite the responsibility, and Jonah could remember that too. He had never been afraid to sing, and he wondered if he would ever feel so utterly confident again. Perhaps you could only be that fearless when you were a child.

Then the boy looked up and began to sing. The first verse was his alone, one voice against the cold night and the sweep of the stars above them. The choir joined him on the second, voices merging. Someone pressed a hymn sheet into Jonah’s hand then, but he passed it to Callum without looking. He knew the words.

On the third verse, the audience joined in as well. The perfect harmony dissolved into the warm mass of many voices, the trained and the untrained together. It felt good to sing with others again, and he let his voice out, clear and steady so that less certain singers could sing with him.

After the last carol, one of the smallest choristers came round to do the collection, and Jonah slipped a note in quietly. Around them, the crowd was breaking up, and the choristers were dashing forward to talk to their families. Dr. Andrewson was there, marshaling them cheerfully.

“Going to say hello?” Callum asked.

Jonah shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

As they walked away, Callum asked, “Why not?”

He thought about it. “It’s the past. I spent so much time missing it that I stopped thinking about the future. I want to do that now.”

Callum squeezed his hand. “And I’m part of that future, right?”

“It’s all about you.”

“And I was afraid I was going to scare you off,” Callum said, his voice a little awed. “Look, you know I don’t think before I decide things, right, and that it works out in the end, because I know what I want and I just go for it and never stop until I get it and… and I’m rambling, but it’s because of you. All the things I’ve done, all the things I’ve wanted—they all go back to you, and I’ve
missed
you so damn much.”

It was the most incoherent declaration ever, and Jonah loved it. Well, if it was time for confessions, he had one too, and he tried to find the right words for it. “I could have had a terrible childhood,” he said abruptly, and Callum caught his other hand, pulling him close. Jonah took a breath and continued, “But I was here, singing, and so it was extraordinary instead, but it wasn’t happy. It wasn’t fun. Not until you found me, and then every other time I was happy had to measure up to you, because nothing in the world was better than spending time with you, and I don’t think I even know how to be truly happy with anyone else and I don’t care, because nobody could be better—”

And Callum kissed him, up against the cathedral wall. This wasn’t as tentative as their earlier kisses, but a slow deliberate plunder of his mouth. His hands slid into Jonah’s coat, pressing on his hips, and Jonah took the kiss with a groan as his body caught fire. He could feel every place where Callum was pressed against him, and every touch of his hands and slide of his tongue was another flare. Jonah kissed him back in self-defense, wanting him so much that words, not his friends at the best of times, were not enough, and he had to communicate with the rasp of his breath and the clutch of his hands on Callum’s arse and the rocking of his hips as Callum’s thigh pressed between his.

“God,” Callum gasped, breaking away. “Jonah.”

“Not the same thing,” Jonah managed and Callum laughed, dropping his head into the crook of Jonah’s neck and then lifting up enough to nuzzle kisses there, his breath ragged.

“So, basically,” he said as Jonah shivered against him, “you’re saying that you’ve been in love with me since you were eight years old.”

“Oh, like I was the only one,” Jonah protested.

Callum looked up, his eyes bright, and then he was kissing Jonah, and this time it was tender again, full of promises. When he did pull away, it was to say, “Can we take this home now? It’s fucking cold, and I think we’re committing blasphemy.”

“I don’t care,” Jonah said, dazed by happiness. “I’m an atheist.”

Callum seemed to find that hilarious, as he promptly laughed into Jonah’s shoulder for longer than Jonah felt necessary. “You?”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Jonah said indignantly. “If they don’t want me to get married in their church, I’m not going to worship in it either.”

“Yeah?” Callum said, failing to keep a straight face.

“Yeah. Stop laughing at me.”

“Come home with me, then.”

“No,” Jonah said, though he was tempted. “I told you. We’re doing this slowly.”

“I won’t break the speed limit.”

“No,” Jonah said and kissed him in apology, which delayed them a little longer.

By the time they made it back to their cars, Callum actually believed him, though he wasn’t happy about it.

“I don’t want you to change your mind,” Jonah said again, pressed against the door of his car by a warm and grumpy lover.

“I won’t.”

“But I need to be sure.”

“Why?” Callum grumbled.

“Because last time it went wrong, it felt like the end of the world.”

It was the truth, but he felt Callum go tense. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I just need to know you’ve thought about it this time. You have to be certain.”

“I am,” Callum said, but stepped back. “If you need to wait until morning to believe it, okay then. Just… don’t make me wait too long. Please.”

“I’ll find you in the morning,” Jonah promised, and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch Callum drive away.

W
ATCHING
J
ONAH
sing “Once in Royal David’s City” was awesome. It made Callum feel hot with pride, knowing everyone in the crowd was watching his friend and in awe of how lovely his voice was. The only thing that spoiled it was knowing there was no one here from Jonah’s family to be just as proud of him.

Well, Callum would be his family, then, and be proud enough for three people.

During the clapping at the end, Leanne turned round to him to say, “He’s really good at this, isn’t he, your little boyfriend?”

“Don’t call him that!” Callum snapped, going tense.

“Jesus, Callum, it was just a joke. No need to overreact.”

But the concert was breaking up, so Callum ignored her to shoot forward and tell Jonah, “You were brilliant.”

Jonah gave him that vague, half-lost smile that told Callum he was still caught up in the music. “Thanks.”

“Totally, utterly, magnificently brilliant.”

That got a better smile, one that reassured him Jonah was back in the real world. “I don’t think the last one is actually a word.”

“Well, it ought to be,” Callum said grandly, to make Jonah smile. “I’m going to see you tomorrow, aren’t I?”

Jonah nodded. “As long as it’s between morning practice and evensong. Tomorrow’s a quiet day otherwise.”

“Ten o’clock,” Callum said as Dr. Andrewson appeared beside them.

“Ah, young Callum,” he said. “Again, like the proverbial bad penny.”

He’d definitely been hanging around the choristers too long if he knew that was meant kindly rather than being an insult. “Evening, sir. Wasn’t he brilliant?”

“A most satisfying performance, certainly,” Dr. Andrewson agreed. “But now, I’m afraid, to bed with all good choristers. Our festive season is far from over.”

“Brilliant!” Callum called after them as Jonah was swept away in Dr. Andrewson’s wake. Callum caught a last glimpse of him smiling over his ruffled collar before Leanne was back to march him to the car.

“You’ve cheered up,” she mentioned as they walked toward the car park. “Mr. Mood Swing.”

“Ha, ha,” he muttered, rolling his eyes at her. She was getting less annoying with age, but only by a little bit.

“What, was it because I called you gay?”

“I’m not gay!”

She laughed at him. “Like anyone would care.”

“
Everyone
would care,” Callum told her bitterly. It was all right for her. She was sixteen and a girl, and therefore just didn’t get it. Everyone cared, all the time, and he was so tired of always being on guard. It hadn’t been so bad last year, but suddenly it seemed like there were girls everywhere, expecting you to notice them and worship them and take them out, and he just didn’t want to, which made him the weird one. His friends just kept toppling, one by one, and there were only so many times he could tell himself he was just a late developer.

Not when he looked forward to seeing Jonah every weekend in exactly the same way his mates longed for Kayleigh and Emma and Meena.

It wasn’t as if he wanted to snog Jonah or anything truly gay like that. He wasn’t going to go holding his hand or carrying his bag or anything stupid. He didn’t want to touch him.

Except sometimes he did. Sometimes he looked at Jonah, who was so calm and collected and confident, and wanted to put his arms around him and soak up some of Jonah’s steadiness right through his skin, to drink it from his mouth.

Which was really weird.

And gay.

But he wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be, because school sucked enough without that. So he just hung out with Jonah and pretended his hands didn’t itch with needing to touch him, and it was both wonderful and pure torture.

And Jonah, of course, didn’t have a clue.

He still didn’t have a clue the next afternoon, when they sat in his room chatting. He actually had a room of his own this year, because he was head chorister, rather than sharing a dorm. It was tiny, with a slanting roof and crooked floorboards, but it looked right out over the cathedral green and the ever bigger Christmas market, and it was private. Callum would have swapped his boring square box of a room for it any day.