Chapter 27
Elliot
Having Jackson there to pick him up at the station in Leicester vaguely made Elliot feel like he was in an old-time film. Ok, so Leicester Station didn’t have that cinematic quality, but he still had a strange urge to leap into Jackson’s waiting arms. He didn’t, because that would have been absurd.
Jackson probably would have enjoyed it, though.
Instead, they avoided each other's gaze until they were sitting in the car. Then Jackson turned to him and dove in for a kiss. Elliot sighed against his mouth, trying to project every feeling he had into the press of their lips.
“Shall we try this again?” Jackson asked.
Elliot nodded, suddenly nervous.
“I love you, Ell,” Jackson said softly.
Elliot smiled. “I love you too, Jackson.”
They kissed again, lost in their own world until a horn sounded, making them jump apart in shock. Jackson laughed and started the car. Elliot watched him as he pulled out of the station.
“How’s your dad doing?”
Jackson’s smile dimmed. “Better, apparently. They still won’t let us in to see him, though.
It sounds like it was touch-and-go for a bit.
I can’t believe I wasn’t here. I should have been here.
It feels so bloody selfish.” A strangled sob escaped Jackson’s throat, and Elliot reached across the console and squeezed his knee.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be breaking down like this. You’ve just arrived, and I’m so glad you’re here, but I’m not very much fun right now.”
Elliot reached over and cupped Jackson’s jaw.
“You don’t need to be fun, Jackson. I’m here for you.
For every version of you, even when things are hard.
” As he spoke, he realised it was true. Elliot was all in on this; he wanted every moment with Jackson, no matter how selfish that made him.
“And I will be here, beside you, for everything. Every race, every triumph, every failure. I’ll be there to celebrate with you, kiss your tears away, or to rub it in your annoyingly gorgeous face when I beat you. ”
Jackson let out a watery laugh. “Sounds like you're proposing.”
“Not yet, Jennings. Calm down.”
Sobering, Jackson spoke quietly. “He won’t have forever; I know that. Mum says they think years rather than months, which is good. But nothing seems like enough, you know?”
Elliot didn’t know, not really. He’d never had the kind of connection Jackson had with his family.
Still, he couldn’t actually fathom how he would respond if he were in the same situation.
Probably not as indifferently as he liked to think, despite how angry he still was with his dad.
They drove out of the city, and the streets widened, giving way to leafy suburbs.
“What do you want me to tell them?” Jackson asked.
“About what?”
“About us, Ell,” Jackson replied gently. So gently it made Elliot’s heart ache. “I’ve explained that you’re coming and that we aren’t archenemies or anything, but…I didn’t want to say more without checking with you first.”
“Do you want them to know?”
Jackson chuckled. “If I had my way, I’d shout from the rooftops that you’re my boyfriend. I’d tell literally every person I meet that I’m in love with Elliot Owens and that it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Elliot flushed. “What if I can’t get there? What if I can’t give you that?”
“Then I won’t say anything.” Jackson shrugged. “I’m not going to tell you it’ll never bother me to drop your hand in public or lie to my friends and family, but the single most important thing to me is that I never make you feel afraid.”
“It’s not that I want to hide forever. I don’t think that anymore.”
“I know that, Ell.”
“And it’s not that I think your parents will be horrible about it. But some people are, and I don’t know if I can handle it. Even the comments on your videos sometimes make me feel sick, Jackson. I don’t understand how you let it all wash off you.”
Jackson was silent for a moment. He looked contemplative. “Hate comments and online trolls are just a fact of life in what we do. You must get them too?”
“Yeah, but they’re, like, about my shit performance or that I’m a dick. Not some fundamental truth about my identity.”
“You are kind of a dick, love. That’s a fundamental truth.”
Elliot could tell he meant it fondly, and instead of voicing the biting reply that was on the tip of his tongue, he smirked. “Nothing wrong with dicks.”
“Fair point. Rather fond of yours, in fact.”
Elliot let out an exasperated laugh. “My point is, those kinds of comments, they don’t hurt because they aren’t true, because those people don’t know anything about me except what I let them know.”
Jackson turned down a small cul-de-sac and pulled into a drive. He stopped the car and turned his full attention to Elliot.
“The comments you’ve seen on my posts, the homophobic ones, the ones insulting me for daring to be an out athlete. They aren’t true either.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. Stop, Ell. I think you need to hear this.” Jackson took his hand and looked him in the eyes.
Elliot felt like squirming away, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact.
“There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with us loving each other.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” Jackson asked. “Because you’ve had this idea drilled into you that you have to be some perfect, emotionless portrait of a human by the people who are meant to love you unconditionally, and I’m not sure if you realise that the problem was with them.”
“I know.”
Jackson arched a brow at him.
“No, I mean, I know that on an intellectual level, right, but I can’t help but think about all the things that could go wrong.”
“But what about all the things that could go right?” Jackson whispered.
“Like this? This is right,” Elliot replied, lifting Jackson’s hand and kissing his wrist. This was more right than anything Elliot had ever felt. He didn’t know if he was ready to tell the world about their relationship, but maybe he could work up to telling Jackson’s family.
“I think we could tell them. Your family, I mean,” he said. “But maybe not right away?”
Jackson beamed at him. “Of course. We can take as long as you need.”
Jackson squeezed his hand and climbed out of the car, stretching his long limbs.
Elliot watched as Jackson’s shirt rode up, exposing the soft trail of ginger hair beneath his navel.
Part of Elliot—the part that wasn’t scared half to death of meeting his partner's parents for the first time—that tiny part of him wanted to lick that exposed bit of skin.
However, they were currently standing on the drive of a suburban house, on a suburban estate in Leicester, and any overly horny impulses Elliot had developed since Jackson had so completely consumed his life were firmly quashed by the domestic scene that reminded him he was going to meet the parents.
And sisters. Jackson had sisters. Elliot took a shaky step forwards, which Jackson misinterpreted, rushing to his side to help him into the house. “Did you push too hard at the trial?”
He had, but it wasn’t that. “I’m fine, Jackson. It’s just…”
“Beth, grab Ell’s bag from the car,” Jackson shouted as he entered the house.
“Get it yourself, wanker!” came the reply.
The door opened directly into their front room, giving Elliot very little time to orient himself before he was face-to-face with three women and a toddler, all staring at him.
Elliot blinked at them, feeling incredibly out of place.
Jackson’s arm was still around him, and he was suddenly immensely grateful for the tape job on his ankle that he’d kept up just in case.
If nothing else, it gave him an excuse to lean on Jackson for support.
“Everyone, this is Elliot. He’s come up to make sure I don’t slack off on my training while I’m here.”
“Oh, that’s very kind, dear,” Jackson’s mother said. “I’m Ellen. Would you like to take a seat, love? Can I get you a cuppa?”
“How’s he planning to keep you motivated, then?” came the suggestive reply from Beth. Elliot recognised her from Jackson’s pictures, and she clearly at least knew of him—likely nothing flattering. Elliot tried not to blush.
“Bethy, shut it,” Jackson replied. Elliot knew that tone, but he’d never heard it directed at anyone other than him. Jackson was pissed off.
Beth cackled. “Why? Will I offend his sensibilities? Or is it that he doesn’t know you watch videos of him on repeat all alone in your room?”
“Don’t be crude, dear,” his mother said.
Jackson caught his eye, embarrassment clear on his face. Sorry, he mouthed.
Elliot was enjoying this, though, the back-and-forth. This was what family banter was meant to feel like, he imagined.
“I’m Anna,” the woman sitting on the floor with the toddler shouted over the sound of Jackson and his youngest sister arguing playfully. “You might meet our eldest sister, Katie, as well. She’s hoping to fly in tomorrow. And this is Noah.”
“Are you Uncle Jacksy’s boyfriend?”
Elliot smiled. The kid was adorable. The whole family felt like warmth and safety, and so different to anything he was used to that before Jackson could step in with a response or an excuse, he replied. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“I thought you didn’t want to say anything?” Jackson mumbled into his hair.
Elliot shrugged. “Felt right.”
“Beth, go get Elliot’s bags from the car,” Mrs Jennings repeated Jackson’s earlier instruction.
“Jackson should do it. He’s his boyfriend!”
“Beth.” And holy shit, Ellen Jennings was not one to cross. “Now, how about that cuppa?” She turned and smiled at Elliot as she said it.
They followed her into the kitchen. Jackson still seemed a bit stunned, and it made Elliot smile to think that he’d surprised him. He felt unexpectedly alright with them knowing.
“You know you didn’t have to do that, right?” Jackson whispered to him as they walked. Elliot turned and kissed him softly on the lips. “Makes doing this easier if they know, though, doesn’t it?”