I laugh. I did use to say that. Utter crap, but yeah.
And what am I thinking about? His letter? The fact that I feel all buoyed up by it? The fact that some far more sensible part of me wishes I didn’t feel anything at all?
The snow is getting heavy now, settling, my bike tyres starting to slip even on the rough tarmac. We should probably go, head into town, but the far less sensible part of me doesn’t want to leave, not yet.
“Why didn’t you want Char to know you knew me?” Of the hundreds of questions crowded in my head, I’m not quite sure why I ask him this one. It’s not like he’s going to answer it. But it’s bothering me who the fuck this Char is to him. Is she the one who gave him the bruises? From the way she was looking at him as he gave that false name to the police, I wouldn’t be completely surprised.
“Oh my God, you are king of the delayed response.”
And Kim is king of dropping hints in conversations and never going into detail. People who don’t know him think he’s direct, but he’s not. He’ll hand you pieces of himself, but he expects you to put those pieces together. And I don’t think he’d ever reveal everything to anyone. Even back when we were close, I was never sure I got the full picture. Plus, I’ve never been the best at asking the right questions. If people want you to know stuff, they usually tell you, don’t they? Well, that’s what I used to think anyway…but maybe I’ve been wrong about a lot of the things I used to think were true.
“Coventry was really shitty,” he says, his teeth starting to chatter.
“Yeah?” I pull the bike up sharply. I can feel the shivers vibrating through him. “Do you want to swap?”
“Swap what?”
“You ride. I’ll hang on the back. It’ll warm you up a bit.”
“You’re trusting me with your bike?”
I shrug as I pull off my gloves, then unsnap my helmet strap. He didn’t seem that worried when he cycled off with it earlier. “Not going to be my bike for much longer. Probably going to give it to a friend’s niece when I leave.” Jill’s sister’s kid is thirteen and getting into the whole skatepark scene, and though it’s an expensive bike, I figure maybe she could have a bit of fun on it. Selling it to some stranger feels wrong—this bike is like part of me. Whoever I give it to, I feel like it should mean something. I tug down Kim’s hood and gently wiggle the helmet onto his head, careful not to snag any stray hair or press against any of his bruises.
Kim watches me with an unreadable expression. “Where are you going?”
“Travelling.”
His dark eyes go wide. “What? How long for?”
“I don’t know. A year, more maybe. Just want to see stuff, have an adventure. Not got anything to come back here for. Come on, get on.”
The weight distribution is different with me on the back, and Kim wobbles a little. I mean, he’s probably still barely five foot four, and I’m now pushing six foot. I grip his coat as we shoot off down a steep bit of path, and Kim whispers “Fuck, fuck fuck,” until the bike slows and he has to peddle madly up the little hill next to the ramp.
“So why was Coventry so shitty?” I ask.
“People like Char… Shit, this is not as easy as it looks,” he pants a little, but I know the way his voice changes when he’s smiling. He never seemed too interested in actually messing around out here when we were seventeen—I mean, it wasn’t like he actually had a bike or a board though, so maybe that was why. But it’s funny how some things change and some things seem to stay exactly the same. “Where are you going first?” he asks.
Now we’ve started asking questions, it’s like the floodgates have opened and we can’t seem to stop. Two years ago, all we did was dance around one another.
“Got a one-way ticket to Jakarta. Indonesia. 6:00 p.m. Boxing Day and I’m gone. You moved back to Northampton now?”
“I don’t know. I go where they go… Why Jakarta?”
“I put a pin in a map. Who are they?”
“Char and that.”
I don’t miss that he doesn’t ask me another question—we’re back to being vague, I guess, but still I ask, “Back at the warehouse that girl looked at you like she was going to end you if you said the wrong thing. Why follow her anywhere?”
He stops and we wobble. I quickly put my feet down so he doesn’t have to hold my weight. I’m a lot bigger than he is, a lot heavier.
“Could you…would you put your arms around me, properly.” He sounds upset, not just out of breath.
“Hey…are you alri—”
“Please,” he whispers.
I wrap my arms around his narrow chest. Feel the way his heart is pounding hard against my arms, even through all his layers of clothes. Holding him like this hurts, and I don’t want to stop. He’s upset, and even after all this time and all that’s happened between us, all I want to do is make whatever is upsetting him go away, but I’ve no idea how to do that. I’ve no idea what’s wrong or what kind of trouble he’s in.
We take off again. The snow is almost blinding now. Kim avoids the little hills, and instead we circle the very edge of the skatepark, around and around, slipping and sliding until the bike threatens to skid out from under us with every pedal.
“Hey, stop,” I say gently, and he does.
For a while all I know is the cold strangeness of the falling snow and the heavy thump of Kim’s heart.
“We should go, head into town,” he says eventually. Maybe I’m imagining the tightness in his voice, the reluctance. Maybe I just want it to be there.
“Okay.”
Before we swap places, Kim forces the gloves on my hands. “I know you’re going to refuse the helmet.” He gives me a wry smile.
It’s hard work cycling along the road in the snow. The bones of my face are aching from the cold. I convince myself that’s why Kim has his face pressed so hard against my back. I convince myself that’s why I’m taking it so slow, why my stomach feels like I’ve swallowed a bucketful of lead. I’ve spent the last two years trying to forget him. And now in two days I’m leaving.
I need to let this go. I need to let him go. I thought I was over him, but with every pedal I realise I was lying to myself. There’s been no one else for me. I never even think about being with anyone like that anymore.
Halfway up Abington Street, I slow even more. A few people stagger laughing out of the pub opposite, but mostly all there is is snow falling on dark empty streets. “I don’t want to just leave you in the middle of town. Will you give me an address?”
Kim shifts his head, maybe looking around at where we are. I feel him sag. “Here’s fine, honestly.”
I stop. It’s a good few seconds before he lets go of his tight grip of my chest and climbs off.
Closing my eyes, I tell myself I should just say goodbye right here, right now and forget him. But I can’t. I just can’t. “I’m worried about you.”
I search his face. All sharp and striking and somehow never quite in reach. Otherworldly maybe. Something tells me he’ll always be the most beautiful guy I’ve ever known, but right now he looks exhausted, worn thin, scared.