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Over the years, Robert had grown to have a soft spot for Christmas. When he was younger, Christmastime was always something wonderful. He loved the giddy anticipation of opening gifts as they slowly started to pile up under the tree and the two weeks of freedom from school for the holidays. But what he loved most was how cozy his home felt after the hustle and bustle of Christmas shopping was through, when he could lounge around in his pajamas and feel comforted knowing that no matter how cold it got outside, he was safe and sound at home.
In the two years after their mum died, Robert didn’t think he’d ever be up for Christmas again. Andy would visit Robert and Victoria day-of in the flat they shared, but the glaring absence of their mother and the empty spaces where Jack should have been with them was draining.
But then Jack died, and things had to change.
It was slow - impossibly slow - but things got better. They learned how to celebrate their parents without mourning, and they learned just how much they needed each other. Suddenly the storefronts decorating well before November didn’t carry the weight of bad omens, and Christmas adverts didn’t play like a funeral dirge. It was just Christmas, and maybe Robert would never love it the same way again, but he could be okay.
But right now Robert was in hell.
He’d only been in this taxi for 20 minutes and he could already feel the life being sucked out of him. If it wasn’t bad enough that an entire country music discography of Christmas classics was playing so loudly that Robert couldn’t even think without it sounding like Garth Brook’s voice, but the driver was insistent on talking even louder over it, chatting about the one time he’d been to London 12 years ago and how Robert should show him around next time he was down there.
He could feel the artificial warmth of the heater dehydrating him, the telltale signs of a headache already starting to form. The dull pain he’d been sporting since the train ride had eased its way across his brow ridge, back toward his temples, but no amount of massaging would relieve it. Robert had come to associate the thought of seeing his family with that ever-present squeeze behind his eyes.
Things were easier, sure, but Andy was still Andy, and no amount of sibling bonding could erase that fact. It hadn’t been so bad, though. He and Andy had made it a tradition to go to Vic’s since she was the one doing most of the cooking anyway, and it always felt easier there. It was neutral ground, unscathed by an angry history of resentment and the emptiness Jack’s sudden death left them with. Every inch of her home was so very Victoria, and in those spaces Robert could allow himself to remember better times between them.
Victoria had that effect on people. Or, maybe it was just her brothers, who loved her more than they hated each other.
No, not hate. I could never hate Andy. Not when he and Vic are all I’ve got, Robert reminded himself as the taxi took the familiar left turn through Connelton, trading the consumer-based festivity that overtook the businesses of Hotten for its suburbs, only a few miles out from the farmlands that Robert would know blind.
In Robert’s 28 years, he’d had lived in many places. The red and orange bungalow he’d shared with his mum and Victoria, trading the bastle and farmlands and his everyday when Jack had let him go, years before the cancer took Sarah away. Then it was the modest two bedroom flat with the creaking flights of stairs that he could barely afford, even with the money Vic chucked in from various part-time jobs. Then there’s the studio he rents now, hardly big enough for him to live, but just on the outskirts of London, keeping him in the thick of it all.
But it was here, amongst the fistful of businesses and grass-fed sheep, that you could always find the beating heart of the Sugden’s legacy kept alive. There were scars across the fields that tore through the village like scorch marks, every inch holding his soul, his memories, deep in the soil and bricks.
It was him that suggested Christmas in Emmerdale. Victoria had been thrilled, and Robert could tell Andy was biting back his questions, just relieved not to have to travel. They’d agreed to meet that evening at mum’s memorial plaque next to dad’s grave and spend Christmas Eve catching each other up before Andy would drag them all back to his for the night.
The civility of it all was almost cruel, like a special technique of torture to hide the very fact that if Jack hadn’t died so quickly after Sarah, Robert probably never would have spoken to Andy again. He never would have tried to look in his eyes and look past the eyes of their father, so much like him even though his blood didn’t run through Andy’s veins. But this was their lives, and they were his family, and that’s all there was to it.
The ache in his temples had seemed to nestle in and settle, and Robert bit back the urge to sigh, lest he accidentally disturb the modicum of peace that finally came over the taxi as it made its way to the B&B. The music was still blaring, but the chatter had stopped somewhere around the driver’s lengthy explanation of the history of the Thames. Robert didn’t spare the man a goodbye, just handed him the fare and shouldered his duffel, gladly trading the warmth of the car for blessed quiet. Instantly, he was greeted with a chill that ran through the air and sent a flush to his cheeks and nose.
Robert closed his eyes to the feeling of the bite of winter, his body realigning to the familiarity of the air. He couldn’t deny how much he loved the village this time of year. The Christmas lights along the buildings were lit, and there was the tale-tell sign of fireplaces roaring inside as puffs of smoke rose from chimney stacks. There was a commotion of children playing coming from behind the row of houses, and the colors of the world around him felt tinted in greys and blues.
All of the ice had melted down in the sunlight of the day, leaving puddles that gathered in the road, but by night they would surely freeze over. He hoped Vic would bring something warm to drink with her when they went out to the grave, already dreading the oncoming chill.
He shot a quick look over to the Woolpack, feeling the sudden sting of a memory at the sight of the unchanged patio tables. It was there, so many years ago, that he had gripped the strap of his backpack so tightly his fingers ached just so that he wouldn’t reach out to hold the newly calloused hands of the only boy who had the power to make him stay.
It was good that he came. It’d been 13 years since he saw Aaron last, and it was long overdue. They were meant to meet again three years ago, but when Robert had asked around, he’d learned that Aaron had done a runner, fleeing from some crime he didn’t commit to save his friend. Robert had choked down the bile that burned his throat when he’d heard, but forced a smile so Andy would be none the wiser on the other side of the phone.
Andy had told him and Vic about Aaron’s return over the summer, but Robert had made no moves to see him and finish what they’d started. For all he knew, Aaron didn’t even remember their pact, and Robert would just look like a starry-eyed idiot who bathed in nostalgia to avoid the reminder that his life was nothing like what he’d wanted it to be.
But then talks of Christmas plans had started, and Robert had made the snap decision for Emmerdale. He’d asked Andy to tell Aaron he’d be coming, and Andy had pretended not to know why. There were years of scars between him and his brother that might never be healed, but still, there were times like this when Andy reminded him that he, too, was raised by Sarah’s warmth and understanding.
Robert turned away from the Woolpack and started the slow trek up to Wylie’s, confusing the pounding of his heart for the exertion of walking, and not for the fear that Aaron wouldn’t show.
This is Aaron. He’ll be there, he told himself, persuading the roiling in his gut to go away.
There was a car parked outside Wylie’s barn, the door swung open as the engine still ran. Robert felt something like giddiness as he walked just a bit faster, past the house and toward the car where Jacob Miller played loudly from the stereo.
“All this time, and you’re still listening to this noise, then?” Robert called out by way of greeting, smiling when Aaron’s hand shot out to flip him off even as he turned the car off.
“Says you, Mister ‘Crosby’s a Christmas icon!’” Aaron mocked as he got out of the car.
The years had been good to Aaron – very good – and the nerves that had been running rampant had calmed at the sight of him. He had a beard now and a fullness to his body that made him look strong, but there was still that same bobble hat atop his head and a cheeky sparkle in his eye when he smiled at Robert that made him feel 15 again.
“I’ve moved on from Crosby,” Robert said with a laugh. “I’m a Bublé man now.”
Aaron scoffed. “Mate, that’s so much worse,” he said as he moved in for a hug, grasping tightly to Robert who gave as good as he got. Aaron’s body was warm and Robert could feel it seep through his skin and straight into his chest, settling comfortably. When they parted, the millions of words Robert had thought he’d say – hell, practiced he’d say – were swept away, and all he could do was smile dopily.
“How have you been?” Robert asked earnestly, greedy to know everything he’d missed in the years.
Aaron leaned back against his car and tucked his scarf into his jacket before zipping it up. “Y’know, it’s fine,” he shrugged. “I’ve been away for a few years, but I assume Andy’s told you all about that.”
“Nah, when’ve I ever trusted Andy with gossip,” Robert said with a nudge. Robert leaned back with Aaron, and he let himself relax. Talking with Aaron felt good, felt normal, like no time had been lost at all. This was his best friend, no matter what the years tried to say.
“My mate got into trouble ‘s all, and I couldn’t let him go down for it. So I took the blame then legged it to France with- err, w-with a boyfriend,” Aaron mumbled, and when Robert looked over at him he caught him chewing on his lip, a tale-tell sign of his discomfort.
Robert nudged him again, much lighter this time. “Yeah? You and him still together?” he asked, praying his voice sounded casual.
Aaron snorted. “No. We only made it about two months before we called it.” Robert nodded and looked out at the dying grass, not sure of how to say what he was thinking. Aaron beat him to it though, asking, “Is it weird? Like, most people when they find out I’m gay, it’s like I can’t even bother caring, but like, you knew me before, so…” he trailed off, scuffing the toe of his boot against the dirt.
Taking a deep breath, Robert said, “Would be a bit of a hypocrite if I thought it were weird.”
He felt Aaron look at him. “Wait, you’re-”
“Bi. N-not gay, but, yeah.”
He thought he heard Aaron whisper out a “huh” but he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like no one knew about him, but Aaron was right. With him it felt different. It was the weight of the world sliding off his shoulders as Aaron nodded along.
Robert cleared his throat and looked around. “Well, shall we?” he asked, looking out at the pale dirt and yellowing grass that lined the back of the barn.
Aaron seemed to shake himself from his thoughts and circled around his car to the boot. “Brought these. Much better than Edna’s hand trowels, eh?” he said, passing Robert a spade, and Robert laughed at the memory.
“God, it took us ages,” he remembered fondly, following Aaron toward a patch of grass about a fifty meters out. “Mum thought I’d miraculously taken up gardening with how mussed up my clothes were.”
“Huh. Paddy just thought I’d buried a body out in the woods,” Aaron said offhandedly, and Robert just squinted his eyes but let it pass. Without preamble, Aaron started working at the dirt, shoveling it out of the way. The ground hadn’t been too hard, warmed nicely from the morning, and the whole process had been much quicker this time around. Aaron’s spade had clinked against metal, and they worked the rest of it out by hand, pulling out the old tin box they’d hidden there.
Robert had been a week out from 16 when they’d buried their homemade time capsule. Robert remembered spending the whole weekend gathering odds and ends to shove in there. He remembered some parts of it, knew there was some shirt in there and probably a couple pictures, but the details were fuzzy. He knew for sure he wrote a letter, but they both had done so. It was to their future selves, incentive for them to come back in ten years, when they thought 25 was older than they could imagine.
But 25 hadn’t worked out the way they’d hoped, and 28 wasn’t too far off. Suddenly, he didn’t know if he was more anxious to see what Aaron had written, or himself. Then, there had been the comfort of time. Whatever Robert would say wouldn’t be seen until he was much older and the words couldn’t touch him. Ten years was a lifetime away when he was 15, but now hindsight was kicking Robert’s nerves into gear.
Aaron led the way back to his car, Robert sliding into the passenger’s seat with the box in tow, letting Aaron get the car heated as he fiddled with the lid. It was an old Christmas cookie tin that his mum had turned into a sewing kit before graciously giving it to Robert for him to bury into the ground. There was a rosy cheeked image of Father Christmas that took up the whole lid, and mismatched snowflakes around the outside.
“Well, go on then,” Aaron ordered, sliding his seat back to lift his leg up under him and switching on the Christmas radio. Robert raised an eyebrow and lifted the top to the box up, gesturing to it with grandeur. Aaron slapped his hand away and dug inside, and Robert took a second to really take in the moment. They’d been around each other for nearly 20 minutes now, and not a second of it had felt awkward. That same familiarity Robert felt about the village he felt about Aaron, too. There was much more to Emmerdale that made this place home.
He watched Aaron lift up an old shirt that Robert had contributed from the first concert they’d ever been to when it had been him, Aaron, Andy, Katie, and Donna. They’d lied and said they had to go into Hotten to see some single-showing at the cinema of a documentary about space that they needed to do a report on for school. Instead, they’d driven out to Leeds to see some band called The Baileys that Donna had insisted would be well worth it. They hadn’t been, but their shirts were cheap and kind of cool, so Robert had bought one.
It had spent most of its life in that box underground, but Robert still felt a little sentimental seeing it. They sifted through the items, both silently agreeing to leave the letters for last. Aaron picked up a slip of paper and read it before snorting. “Hey, what’s white and goes up?” he asked, voice lilted with mirth.
“What?” Robert asked, not following.
“C’mon,” Aaron said, waving the paper that Robert now recognized as a joke sheet from a Christmas cracker. “What’s white and goes up?”
Robert paused, his mind immediately falling to the gutter. Surely it’s not…
“A confused snowflake,” Aaron deadpanned, and Robert could only blink at him.
“I- That’s awful,” Robert complained, snatching the paper from Aaron to read for himself. “Why’d that get put in?”
“Dunno,” Aaron shrugged. “Must’ve been you though. I had way better taste than that,” he said, continuing his dig around.
“God, you really do love a wind up,” Robert muttered, dropping the paper onto the pile on his lap. In the box he found a frayed bracelet Victoria must’ve made him, and a bottle cap from a beer they’d been too young to drink. At the bottom, there were pictures, still in the envelope they came in from the developers. Aaron must’ve put them in, because Robert didn’t recognize the first few. There were blurry shots of the view outside Aaron’s bedroom window at Smithy’s and a few of various animals that had probably been at the vet’s.
But then there were the ones Robert did recognize. He hadn’t taken the photos, but he’d been in them. There was one of the gang in a booth at the Woolpack, crammed in like sardines because none of them wanted to get the orphan’s chair. Most of them were from school, pulling various faces and making vulgar gestures they thought made them look hard when they were young. But there was one that made Robert pause.
It was just of him, sitting on the bridge like he and Aaron would do so often, tired of the rest of the gang’s love triangles and drama. He was backlit by the setting sun, and he wore his signature denim, back when he had just started growing his mullet. He could remember every detail of this moment down to the second, but he hadn’t known Aaron took this photo. That Aaron had seen something in this moment worth photographing.
Robert looked up, ready to show Aaron the photo, but Aaron was already looking at him. His head was tilted against the headrest of the seat, and there was a softness in his eyes that used to drive Robert crazy trying to figure out.
Again, there was hindsight rearing its ugly head.
When Robert had found out Aaron was gay – not from his mumbled confession, but the first time, from a newspaper article no less – the world had shifted and realigned until finally, for the first time since he met him and his heart had skipped a beat, Robert had seen the world in crystal clear focus. But it had been too late, then. Mum was sick and suddenly Andy was living with them full time, and the world kept moving, unwilling for Robert to catch up with himself.
The song on the radio changed to that Carpenters song his mother always played when he and she would decorate, Victoria teaching herself the fundamentals of baking in the kitchen, and Robert felt the photo fall back into the box before Aaron reached over to put it in the backseat.
…but I still have one wish to make. A special one for you… Karen Carpenter’s voice sang, her words swirling as Robert didn’t stop to think twice, leaning into Aaron’s space and nearly sighing against him when Aaron’s lips met him halfway. He’d be a fool to think this wasn’t why he came. He’d hoped, pleaded, for all the bad in his life to culminate to this one good thing. That Aaron – Robert’s biggest secret, ever since the day he’d worn a suit for Marlon’s wedding and Robert had choked on the word “beautiful” – had kept him a secret, too.
Aaron kissed him like he’d been aching for it, leaving no room for open mouths or tenderness. It was a hard press of his lips against Robert’s, just craving closeness. Robert wanted to lose himself in Aaron, wanted to reach up and cradle him until Aaron’s breaths became his own, but Aaron was already leaning back, his eyes locked on Robert’s for full seconds, and Robert couldn’t resist knocking his nose against Aaron’s.
“Robert,” he laughed breathily, leaning up quickly to press another kiss before fully pulling away to look at him. Aaron’s eyes reflected the sun, their icy blue sending a chill up Robert’s spine and leaving him shivering for his touch. “I want you to read my letter,” he whispered, pulling it off the dash and handing it to him.
“Only if you read mine,” he said, doing the same. Truthfully, he had wanted to vet the letter first, make sure it wasn’t painfully embarrassing the way teenage memories always are, but in the spirit of Christmas, Robert could gift him his words.
Future Aaron,
First of all I hope your not dead. Thatd be really awkward if you were dead. Also I hope its you reading it and not some rando who dug the box up searching for burried treasure or some shite. But its probably you so thats cool. Right now im sitting in the dirt across from Robert while we write this and then were gona burry the box with the tools I nicked from Edna. Since your future me you can tell her sorry and she cant even be mad because it was ten years ago. Thats mental.
I hope you still like the same music and havent turned into some poser or something. Please tell me you dont work in a office or that your homeless or something either. If you are homeless that sucks. Sozm8. But your probably adventuring and seeing the world.
…Is Robert there w/ you? Hed better be w/ you or else he sucks too. No, hes there. Its Robert of course hes there. He always is. Have you told him yet? I know hed probably be fine w/ it so I hope your braver than I am. You probably are. Your an actual adult now your probably not scared of anything.
I hope Robert is there w/ you. Tell him if you havent already. Dont be scared like I am. Then you can live together in your big manshon with your lamborgini and 50 dogs like weve always wanted. I just hope your doing alright is all.
See ya in 10 years!!
Aaron
Robert read the letter over again and again, just for the sake of the 15 year old version of him that would have died on the spot if he had read this then. His lips tingled with the memory of their kiss, and he could feel the way his cheeks started to burn from how much he’d been smiling. Teenage Aaron had been a snarky mess that Robert had wanted to spend his every day chasing around forever, and this letter was just proof that he hadn’t been alone.
He’d never been alone.
“‘I hope Robert is there with you. Tell him if you haven’t already,’” Robert recited, pulling Aaron’s attention away from his own letter. “’Then you can live together in your big manshon and 50 dogs.’ Aaron, I’m sorry to break it to ya but I don’t think I can afford a mansion on an auditor’s pay,” he teased and Aaron rolled his eyes.
“That’s nothing,” he said, going back to Robert’s letter and clearing his throat. “‘When you dig this up, I command you and Aaron to take a two month trip across Europe where you order the most expensive thing on the menu and spend at least a week of that time on the sea. If your job doesn’t let you get that time off, then just make sure Aaron gets to go.’” Aaron folded up the letter. “Well, where’s my all-expense paid trip across Europe I’ve been promised?” he asked, holding out his hand as if waiting for his handout.
Robert slapped his hand onto Aaron’s who grabbed just quick enough to hold him by the fingertips, laughing when Robert tried to pull away in vain. Finally Robert slipped away, but he wished he hadn’t tried so hard, happy to keep himself in Aaron’s grasp.
It occurred to him that he could probably reach out and hold Aaron’s hand if he wanted to, and everything felt surreal. Jingle Bell Rock chirped through the radio and Aaron was still smiling from the remnants of his laughter, and Robert had permission to do the one thing he’d never been able to do before. He wasn’t some terrified teenager ignoring his feelings for his best friend until it burned him inside out. He didn’t have to be afraid of what his family would think if they ever knew, or if Aaron’s eyes would never be able to meet his own again.
I hope you’re braver than I am, the letter had read, and Robert knew he couldn’t let past-Robert and past-Aaron down.
“I was 14 when I knew I liked boys,” Robert said, and Aaron’s features melted into one of intent listening. “It was the day Marlon got married, do you remember? I didn’t go because I didn’t know him, but I stuck around while you and Paddy got dressed for it. Paddy was annoyin’ you with his fussing, and you pulled me up to your room to get away from him. You were changing your shirt, and I’d seen you and all sorts of other boys change before, but I was in your room and you were getting broader, and I remember the air felt like it had been sucked from the room. And then you blasted your music so loud that Paddy practically ran out the house, and that’s when I knew that it was you. Not just boys, but you.”
Aaron sighed out, and Robert watched him close his eyes to gather his thoughts. When he opened them, he leaned into the back seat to search through their time capsule before pulling out the photo of Robert. “I was going to tell you this day. That I was in love with you,” Aaron said, smiling down at the photo softly. “I dunno if you remember, but this was the day we spent the whole 24 hours trying to stay awake together.”
“I remember,” Robert interrupted, and Aaron nodded.
“I was delirious by this time. It was right after we’d missed the bus in Hotten and decided to walk the eight miles back home to kill the time rather than just wait for the next one.”
“We were idiots,” Robert groaned, remembering the instant regret about a mile into their walk.
“Tch, yeah. But it wasn’t all bad. We talked so much on that walk about all sorts, and I already knew I had a crush on you or whatever, but by the time we had practically crawled our way to that bridge, I was damn near ready to blurt out every feeling I had for you. I made myself promise to wait until I’d slept, that I’d tell you in the morning, but I bottled it. And, well, here we are now.”
“Yeah, here we are,” Robert said, his voice sounding sad even to his own ears. The thought of it all was bittersweet. Sure, they were still young, and they knew now, but what would’ve life been like if Robert had known what Aaron had been thinking that day. If he had known then, would he have left with Sarah? Stayed with Jack and Andy so that he could stay with Aaron?
But then would he have missed out on those last years with his mum? Would he have grown to resent Aaron for it, even though it would never have been his fault?
Who’s to say? The point was that he was here now, and it was Christmas tomorrow, and Robert was already given the only thing he’d ever wanted.
He leaned forward again to kiss Aaron gently, a promise that his confession wasn’t for naught. “Aaron, I don’t know what I’ll do once I go back to London,” he admitted, and Aaron nodded.
“I’m not askin’ ya to upend your life. I just wanted you to know,” Aaron said.
“I’m glad you know, too.” Aaron smiled and shifted his seat back into place, starting the car. Robert checked the time and grimaced, realizing he was definitely late for his meeting time with Vic and Andy, but he hoped they’d understand. They couldn’t get mad at him at Christmas, after all. Especially when the love of his young life had just irrevocably changed Robert’s entire world in just one day.
As they drove through the village snowflakes started to fall, melting as they touched down on the window of Aaron’s car. Robert resisted the urge to stick his hand out to catch them like he would when he was a boy. Instead he leaned his head against the window and watched them fall. Soon, the whole village would be transformed, blanketed in white.
Aaron pulled up alongside the small cemetery and honked, startling Vic and Andy from where they stood looming over what was probably Jack’s grave. Andy spread out his arms in a “what the hell?” gesture, but Vic waved cheerily and pulled Andy’s attention back to her. Robert leaned back in his seat and turned his attention to Aaron.
“Y’alright?” Aaron asked, and Robert wished he hadn’t heard the apprehension in his voice. He wanted to reassure Aaron and tell him that everything that happened today meant something to him. That things were going to change. He wanted to take Aaron’s hand and tell him that everything was different now, and that he was coming home.
But he couldn’t promise that. Aaron deserved more than empty words fueled by the rush of emotions the holidays brought. Robert couldn’t lie to him, he never could. And somehow, Robert knew that Aaron knew that. There’d be Christmas dinner tomorrow and a flurry of seeing old friends and acquaintances who would prod and poke at him while they ate their ham and shoveled green bean casserole by the spoonful. Then there’d be the 24 hour vegetation day known colloquially as Boxing Day, and then Robert would go home.
Well, he’d go back to London, at least. And maybe he’d see Aaron over Christmas day, and spend whatever time he had left learning the parts of Aaron he never dared to think about since he’d seen him last. He knew he’d think of him when the holidays had passed and the world settled back into its routine.
He wouldn’t make promises, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it. Spending the next year readjusting his larger than life aspirations to fit the smaller, more important dreams of coming home to a quiet village – to Aaron – and knowing it was the way life was always meant to be. He could let himself imagine Christmases creating new traditions for himself that looked a lot like those infamous Dingle parties he remembered.
Robert hummed sleepily, reaching out to stroke his thumb across Aaron’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, because this he could give. Aaron stared at him steadily, and Robert let him look his fill. He must have decided something, because he just unwrapped the scarf from his neck and looped it around Robert’s, tugging him in to give him another gentle kiss, letting him know he understood.
When Robert got out of the car the snow fell across his shoulders and he could feel it start to cling to his hair. He pulled the scarf tight and hugged his arms around himself, dropping his bag to the ground. “Happy Christmas, Aaron,” he said, poking his head through the window.
“I’m seein’ ya tomorrow,” Aaron teased, but when Robert exaggerated a frown, he rolled his eyes. “Fine, Happy Christmas, Robert.”
When Aaron drove away, Robert took a second to watch him go.
Life couldn’t change at the drop of a hat. He couldn’t just uproot everything he’d had at the snap of Aaron’s fingers, but there was something magical about the possibility. Maybe not now. Maybe not even this time next year. But one day.