Late, 4th November, 1893 — Kieran & Leeny’s Flat
The last couple of weeks had been a lot. Jude thought that was fair to say. The end of campaigning – the election, and the results – a new Minister, and still, a lot of people who also newly knew Jude, who had even perhaps actually voted for him. And there was a lot to be done now, to move forwards with that.
And on top of all that there was Kieran. The novelty of that changed relationship was no closer to wearing off or sinking in for Jude yet: not for all the diligent repetition of the kisses or the touching, the days or the nights spent together, nor that continued jolt of feeling of the I love yous.
He’d woken to stillness and darkness and the sound of Kieran’s slow breathing, and glanced at the window. Probably still the middle of the night. Jude lay there for a few minutes, and then quietly eased himself up, too thirsty to go back to sleep. Eileen hadn’t been home when they had come in earlier, but if Jude had to guess, it must be well after closing now. So if she had come back to the flat, hopefully she was already asleep and the coast was clear – carefully, he padded out to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water as silently as he could.
Satisfied by his clandestine success, he took a sip, and then turned around to sneak back to Kieran’s room – and promptly sloshed half the water in the glass over himself, because Eileen was right here. In the kitchen, looking tiny and terrifyingly menacing in the dark. Shit. Jude mostly stifled his hiss of surprise, uncertain how he was going to explain this – but thankful that at least he was wearing underwear.
/
“Eileen!” Jude – well, exclaimed under his breath, wide-eyed, much too unprepared to see her to feign anything casual and careless back. And she had called him Wright, which felt like a bad sign – and she was wearing as few nightclothes as he was, and she was grinning: and all of these elements put together were rather disconcerting.
How much did she know? She and Kieran were much too close to keep secrets, he had figured, but he didn’t know how much Kieran had said to her yet, in the whirlwind of the last week or two; and if Kieran had mentioned to him how he ought to deal with Eileen, Jude, half-asleep and altogether unfamiliar with – all this, couldn’t remember it. And he certainly hadn’t spontaneously come up with another reasonable excuse to be in their kitchen in the early hours of the morning.
“I – er – I was just – how are you?” Jude said helplessly. “I didn’t hear you get in.”
“Sorry,” Jude said guiltily. He didn’t know if she meant that comment pointedly or not – he wasn’t sure how loud, exactly, they had been earlier – but he was grateful that it was still dark enough in here that she might not notice the full extent of his flushing.
“Oh, no, I was just thirsty,” he said, hastily lifting his glass of water in illustration – although, having looked at Leeny munching on that bread, his stomach had the indecency to rumble audibly at that very moment. Still, even if he was hungry, he hadn’t planned to – make himself so comfortable here as to eat them out of house and home by it. (He did feel worryingly comfortable here already, but – he was trying to be considerate. And unobtrusive. And usually more dressed than this.)
He took another sip of water, trying to match Eileen for ease, though she had the home advantage so was certainly still winning. “I’ll try and be quieter next time, though,” he added, both a joke and a promise.
He took the hunk of bread she’d offered, tearing off a piece and only then realising that he had been quite hungry, after all. When he glanced up from it to murmur his thanks, Eileen was smiling – more gently still, enough that he felt the rest of the tension in his shoulders ease. He and Leeny had never been close the way she and Kieran were, but perhaps Jude had inwardly been worried she would be annoyed by this unexpected turn of events, that she wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t approve. But if she had disapproved of this, Jude fully expected that she would say. Eileen had never been one to hide her feelings on anything, particularly not her disgruntlement (which was often when the boots came out). So maybe – this was fine. Maybe they could still be friends as usual.
More at ease now or not, Jude still couldn’t help the pink flush that spread over his cheeks at my side of the bed. He swallowed a piece of bread before he answered, finding it almost hard to verbalise how he was feeling. He was – happy. Happier than he’d known he could be. (He thought, he hoped, that Kieran was too.)
He was also more daunted than he had ever been.
“Yeah, er, good,” Jude said, embarrassed at her phrasing of the question and more embarrassed at his complete failure to keep his cool about it. “It’s all very – new,” he confessed (new with Kieran; a new arrangement for him, generally). “And it feels... a bit fragile, too? Like I’m afraid it’s too good to be true, or something.” Maybe that was it. He was afraid something would go awfully, terribly wrong: he would do something wrong or say something wrong, or they would have an argument and everything would come crashing down around them. And Jude had never wanted anything so badly, and he had scarcely had time to let it sink in. He – wasn’t ready to lose this yet.
It was almost more natural to hear Eileen voice her warning than to hear her saying she was happy for them – Jude suspected that in the morning he might wonder if he had dreamt that part.
But it did have him finally relaxing, because this was more usual territory for them both. And really he should have expected it; Kieran and Leeny did come as a pair, closer than friends somehow and more like siblings. Or like odd, belligerent Irish twins. So –
“Of course,” he said seriously, “how will you do it?” The murdering, he meant; if he could see it coming he might be able to save things before he got too close to the edge, or realised he was on thin ice. In all truthfulness, Jude hoped he would see it for himself, if things soured one day and he was making Kieran unhappy. (They had not been particularly good at keeping on an even keel historically – and maybe there was some comfort in knowing that they had weathered bitter arguments before – but hopefully things would be... easier from here.)
“Though if anyone does get hurt here,” Jude added quietly, more earnestly than before, “I think it will be me.” There had never been anyone for him but Kieran, so if this ended badly, he imagined he would have done all he possibly could to save it. And if Kieran changed his mind one day, which was perfectly possible – Jude wasn’t sure how well he would recover.
No, he probably wouldn’t. Eileen was tiny – she was easy to miss. He hadn’t seen her coming here, pouncing on him from the kitchen counter, so.
And he was strangely touched by her commitment to equal-opportunity-murder, that she might have it out for Kieran as much as for him if things did go badly. Jude wasn’t sure she could really mean that, because he could not envision anything breaking up Kieran and Leeny’s friendship, could not fathom her ever picking anyone over him – but he appreciated the sentiment regardless. (And in truth, although Eileen was not as devoted to their politics as some of his friends were... it would hurt him to lose her friendship just as badly as anyone’s.)
“I can imagine worse outcomes,” he joked, with a quick brief smile to express his gratitude, sincerely, that she could even flippantly imagine being on his side. And in the interest of saving their friendship if things did continue going well – “But if we ever do – annoy you,” Jude added, trying to suppress a grin and look as serious as usual, “you can kick us out, and we can go to mine.” He also had a flatmate to worry about, but he was sure they could juggle everyone’s tolerance. He and Kieran had already, er, been spending a lot of time together.