The Pajama Kid

Chapter Eleven- What are we?

Hola! An update on the mysterious lives of Will and Freddie. The last chapter was quite upsetting so this chapter is full of fluff- although it is quite bittersweet since we can see signs of Freddie's home life.

Hope you guys enjoy reading 😊
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Will's PoV

Icy cold wind nips at the pale skin on my fingers, grazing the surface with cool fangs. My hair sways manically in the swift breeze- my teeth chattering slightly.

A red woolly hat snuggles onto my small head; a matching scarf curling around my neck. Gently, a hand- radiating intense warmth- wraps around my glove-clad palm, stroking the surface softly.

Warmth blossoms across my forehead as a chapped pair of lips kiss it, the gentle caress of heat slowly travelling downwards until it touches my own lips.

We kiss for what feels like an eternity, sat on the smooth surface of the bench in my garden; huddled under a sea of cotton blankets.

Freddie fists a hand up the back of my shirt. The stark contrast of his freezing skin ebbs away at the little warmth my coat had conjured. We pull apart, panting slightly from restricted breathing- the small price we pay for such a beautiful embrace.

Despite the biting wind, the freezing cold, the icy weather- I burn up inside.

"I can't believe it's nearly Christmas" Freddie says quietly- gazing adoringly at the multiple decorations Megan has put up around the garden. His face has a small bruise on it, from falling over and bumping into one- I didn't see it myself but it looks like it hurt.

I mutter an agreement to his statement- looking at the nearly frozen garden in quiet wonder.

"Benny put up loads of homemade decorations one year, mini paper chains, cardboard Christmas trees and cute little drawings. He hung them all around our room, it was probably one of my favourite Christmases to date. He loves doing things like that, making something joyful out of nothing."

His brother seems to be his idol, his motivation to do well in life. Almost every story he tells involves Benjamin in some way- I can't wait to meet him. But something doesn't sit well with me, not once has he mentioned his mum or dad-

"How come you never mention your parents?"

His breathing hitches, barely noticeable but there all the same. His hand detaches from mine and settles in his lap; his fingers shaking- seemingly from the cold?

"They're a bit busy most of the time- you know? Dad's always at work and mum helps around the house but she's busy doing the washing- and stuff."

His hands seem to shake more-

"Christmases with them are the best, they're so generous and kind and-"

Freddie chokes on a hurried breath, covering it up with a laugh- tugging at his thick coat sleeves; pulling them further over his arms.

He tells me a story, about last Christmas. His parents got up real early to surprise him and his brother with a trip to Scotland. It was, 'truly extraordinary' according to Freddie, though his voice sounds detached- as if he can't remember it clearly.

We sit silently for a while, skin touching skin.

Freddie and I, our conversations seem to mean more- in a way. We allow the silence to overcome us, thinking quietly for a while, before engaging in interesting discussions; in interesting debates.

It's what makes up our rela-

I don't know what we are.

Agitation seems to take over my mind, supplying my anxiety with multiple scenarios- what if he only wants to be with me for my body? He only wants to be friends? To be something more? I don't know, we haven't addressed the topic.