 
# Christmas at the Wellands

## Liz Jacobs

### Contents

Copyright

Author's Note

Christmas at the Wellands

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About Liz Jacobs

More By Liz Jacobs
Copyright © 2018 Liz Jacobs

Published by Liz Jacobs at Smashwords

* * *

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

# Author's Note

_Content warnings for parental loss, depression, past suicidality, and past self- harm._

# Christmas at the Wellands

By the time they were nearly to Andrew's house, the snow had begun to stick to tree branches, fluffing them up with white wetness, to the roofs of the houses they passed, and finally, even to the road, piling quietly on as if a myriad cars had not been heating it on a regular basis. The sleepy Connecticut roads were turning as picturesque as any Christmas postcard, which really put a damper on Kev's brooding thoughts.

At the wheel, Andrew looked quietly pleased, peaceful like the snowfall outside, and Kev did his best to mirror him. He had a feeling that his own face looked less pleased and more constipated, but he just couldn't seem to shake his internal dread.

"All right, so, things to know," Andrew said as he made another turn onto an increasingly suburban street. They were definitely getting close. "My sisters talk a mile a minute, but you really don't have to pay attention to them. Like, they'll let you know when it's important."

"Tessa and Cherry, right?" He knew they were twins, and still in school, though wasn't totally clear on actual ages.

"Yes!" Andrew flashed him a quick smile. Kev burrowed deeper into his scarf. Andrew's smiles were like the clouds parting to reveal a full moon. Unexpected and bright, for all that they were easy to goad. It still managed to pluck at Kev's insides every time in ways that were best left unexamined. "Right, and then there's Sandy."

"Your...aunt?"

"Yeah, dad's sister. She's, uh. Well, try not to pay too much attention to her, either, now that I think about it."

"Any particular reason?"

"She's a little...uh..." Kev watched as Andrew chewed on his lower lip. "I guess you could say she's a bit kooky. I mean, she's harmless, but, uhm..." It was adorable, really, how easily Andrew blushed. Actually, embarrassing Andrew had become one of Kev's biggest joys in life since they'd palled up in bio last year, and it was cute to watch him squirm, when Kev wasn't the cause of the squirming. "Well, anyway, she's been staying with my parents since her divorce. She's in the apartment over the garage."

That sounded pretty fancy. Kev vaguely knew that Andrew's family was comfortable, which only ratcheted up his own discomfort the closer they got. He still couldn't believe he'd let Andrew talk him into coming to his parents' place for Christmas.

"So, then there's Mom and Dad. I know you've met them, so you're, you know, familiar with their...everything..."

Kev had met them when they'd come for Parents' Weekend back in October. The two of them were straight out of a Norman Rockwell special. Andrew looked just like his mom, blinding smile and all. Kev had felt the need to squirm himself, when they'd taken them out for dinner. "It's so nice to meet you, Kev!" Andrew's mom—Mrs. Welland—had gushed. "I'm just so glad he's found a friend, finally." As if Kev had been the one to save Andrew, and not the other way around.

"But don't let them get to you—they're a lot, but they mean well, you know?"

"They're nice, man, don't worry about it."

But Kev worried. Kev worried that he wouldn't fit into the Wellands' loving, perfectly ordinary family. He worried that he hadn't gone to the barber in too long and his hair was a shaggy mess that would be a lightning rod for all their curiosities. He worried that he would put his elbows in the wrong place at the wrong time. He worried that for all that his skin was dark, the circles under his eyes were darker. He worried that, when the sun began to set shortly, he wouldn't be able to avoid the feeling of dread in his stomach, and the sleepless, endless night that would follow. He worried about the morning after.

He cleared his throat. "You said you had others coming for Christmas, right? Who else you got?"

Andrew blew out a breath. "Well, let's see... There's my grandparents—Mom's side, Dad's are gone—and my other aunt and uncle, and their kids. There's four of them."

"Wow. Your family doesn't fuck around." Kev paused, rethinking. "I mean, I guess they do, in fact."

"Oh my God, do not make me dump your ass on the street. Stop talking about my family like...eurgh. Gross."

Kev grinned, gloomy mood momentarily dispelled. Andrew was such a good boy. He only cursed when it was a _curse_ , and not the actual act. Andrew, apparently, did not _fuck_. Andrew "saw" girls and occasionally "spent the night" with them. Kev could only imagine that he probably took them out for breakfast afterwards and held their hands. Kev was the fuck-and-run dude around these parts.

As Andrew drove, he took Kev further and further away from everything Kev knew.

"Sorry," he conceded, settling into his seat. "Okay, so aunt and uncle. And four cousins. What are their names? Just so I'm prepared." Although he hoped Andrew didn't expect him to memorize any names at the outset.

Andrew appeared to shake himself off. "Okay, so it's Aunt Mabel—"

"No way is your aunt named Mabel."

"What, why?"

Kev shook his head. "God, you're fucking wholesome." It wasn't a complaint, really. Just a fact, possibly mixed in with some wonder.

"I am not!"

"All right, you're not. Your uncle is..?"

"Mike."

"Aunt Mabel and Uncle Mike?"

"Right... Okay, I see what you mean."

Kev cracked a grin. "Cousins?"

Andrew shot him another look, tips of his ears adorably pink. "Katie, Toby, uh, Andy—"

"No fucking way."

"She's a girl!"

"Who's older?"

"I am!"

Kev could feel laughter—almost unfamiliar in its unbridled, easy nascency—bubbling up his belly. He tried to hold it in, if only because releasing it would jar him with a long-forgotten sensation, but one look at Andrew's indignant face and he was gone. _Gone_. He doubled over and wheezed, his throat long unused for the purpose, his body remembering all the ways that a person could laugh. The slap of a hand against his knee, the lightest of aches in his abdominal muscles, and that feeling of joy that came with this sort of laughter. A feeling of joy that had the potential to last, sustained by more laughter, and more joy.

"So, they stole your name and used it for parts. What's the last cousin's name?"

Andrew had that look on his face that Kev knew so well—wanting to be annoyed, but being too fucking good-natured to follow through. "Ugh. Mike Junior."

"Oh, dude."

"I know."

Andrew took another turn, and instinctively, Kev knew they were on his street. They were close. He didn't know how he knew, but he felt the change in the air, like anticipation coming off of Andrew in waves. Kev's stomach clenched up. _You can do this. You can._

Especially if he continued mocking the crap out of Andrew. "Mike Junior. What do y'all call him?"

"Mikey. I mean...nobody but Uncle Mike calls him Mike Junior."

Kev shook his head. "Poor kid. How old is he?"

"Five."

Kev would have laughed again had Andrew not taken a decisive, final turn, the slush of snow obvious under the tires, and pulled into a driveway that sloped slightly downward. At the end of it stood his house.

Technically, it was a house, but to Kev, that shit looked like a small mansion. And not one of those fake-ass McMansions made out of plywood and tax evasions that littered half of Jersey, either. Maybe mansion wasn't even the right word for it. It was made of wood, not stone—were mansions ever built from wood? But it had a timeless sturdiness to it.

So had Kev's apartment building in Queens. But that timelessness had been dilapidated and plastered over with decades of neglect.

Andrew's house looked like it could withstand all sorts of crap, of the man-made and act-of-God variety.

"Well, here we go." Andrew pulled in behind a parked sensible but swanky-looking SUV and turned the car off. They sat there in silence for a moment, then Andrew unbuckled his seatbelt and turned towards Kev. "Ready?"

Kev looked at his earnest green eyes and shored up every bit of himself to say, "Yeah, man. Totally ready."

Before they could even get out of the car, he heard a shriek, then another, and two long-haired creatures were tearing towards the car like bears were chasing them. Andrew laughed and just managed to open his door, when two identical pale faces with giant grins appeared. "Andy, Andy! You're here!"

Kev just watched as Andrew unfolded from his seat, still laughing, and managed to get out of the car before the twins plastered themselves up against him. "I've missed you, too, you tiny monsters." He smushed them to his chest, kissing each ginger head in turn, and the ache in Kev's chest nearly knocked him flat.

Kev didn't know the protocol here—let them have their moment? Get out of the car and grab his things from the back seat? Introduce himself? Indecision paralyzed him, thus making the choice for him. He waited for Andrew to make a move.

"All right, all right, I can't breathe. Mom let you out without coats on? It's freezing out here!"

The girls giggled and finally extricated themselves. That was when they noticed Kev, faces turning curious. One of them watched him, while the other turned her eye on her brother. "Is that your friend?"

"It is. Tessa, Cherry—this is my best friend Kevan. He goes by Kev, though. Kev, these are my sisters."

Kev's smile came easily enough. The two were sort of adorable, if creepily identical. "Hey," he nodded at them. Suddenly he wondered if they'd ever seen a black person this up close before. "Good to meet you guys."

They giggled, pressing up against each other. He really had to get out of the car, this was beginning to feel awkward. Andrew caught his eye, then turned back to his sisters.

"You two, run back into the house before you die of cold, and we'll see you there in a minute. Tell Mom to put the kettle on."

One of them—Kev should probably figure out which one was which sooner rather than later—rolled her eyes. "It's already gone off, like, three times already."

Andrew shooed them away after another moment of sibling wrestling, and finally, Kev made himself get out of the car. Their eyes met over the top of it. "Kettle? What are you, British?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, my family loves tea, so it's sort of a tradition that every time we come home or whatever, we have tea." It was hard to tell whether Andrew's pink cheeks were the result of the cold or a true blush. Kev felt a momentary urge to cup his face and feel for himself. He'd only be scalding himself, though, so he looked away. "I don't actually know if you like tea."

Kev shrugged, went to grab his backpack from the back seat. "I don't, like, drink it on the regular, but I've had it before. If it's sweet. Is it sweet?"

"It can be whatever you want it to be—we don't have tea rules or anything."

When Kev straightened with his bag on his shoulder, Andrew was smiling at him, and it was impossible to tell, for once, if he was being funny on purpose. It was hard not to smile back, though.

"Baby, there you are!"

The door was barely shut behind them when Andrew's mom hurried up and enveloped Andrew in a hug. The twins were also crowding them, but Kev could only focus on one thing at a time, so he watched the spot where Mrs. Welland had her face tucked into Andrew's neck.

Kev missed his mom constantly, but it was always worse when other people's moms were involved. It was epically worse if those moms loved their sons unabashedly in Kev's proximity.

Then she was letting go of Andrew and turning her familiar face on Kev, her smile changing in nature but not dimming in any way. He itched under his collar—the house was warm. "Kevan, it's so good to see you again, honey. Welcome, make yourself at home."

She reached out her hands to him like a lady in an old black-and-white film, and he had no choice but to take them, feeling all sorts of weird. "Thank you for inviting me." He sounded stilted. He had to do better. "I really appreciate it, Mrs. Welland."

"Oh, silly, it's our pleasure!" How did she manage to take her hands back so effortlessly and easily, while he was sweating his balls off and forgetting how to move his body like a human? "When Andrew told us you were just going to stay in the dorms for Christmas, well, that was no choice at all, was it, baby?"

Behind her, Andrew was scratching the back of his head, looking almost embarrassed. "Right."

Kev gave them both a smile that felt awkward, for all it was genuine. "Well, thank you. The dorm food wasn't gonna be much of a feast."

He didn't know why he said it. They all knew that dining halls weren't open over the break, anyway. He'd have subsisted on Cup Noodles and the occasional ramen, if left to his own devices. But mercifully, nobody said anything.

"Well! The kettle's just about to go off, and I bet you boys want to take off those heavy coats and boots, and settle in, don't you? Andrew, take Kev's coat, and show him around the house, all right?"

That was when Kev realized he hadn't even taken in the house itself. From the outside, he had imagined it would have one of those grand entrances with a gigantic, waste-of-space foyer and a wide staircase. In reality, it looked practical and felt warm, like being wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket. The staircase was wide, but tucked to the side, not dominating. The wood was dark, its carvings ornate, but not ostentatious—just old-fashioned. There was a wide bench with hooks hung over it, and the light streaming in through the stained glass window made you feel protected.

He could glimpse the living room to the left, and then the dining room beyond it with what he imagined to be a giant kitchen at the back.

Kev had never lived in a house, but he'd watched enough movies to know what he'd been missing.

"All right, you can just chuck your shoes off here, and I'll get your coat..." Kev let Andrew bustle around him and allowed himself to simply follow his lead and not overthink.

Once he was down to his hoodie, jeans, and socks, Andrew grabbed Kev's backpack along with his own suitcase, and made Kev follow him upstairs. The twins followed closely behind, whispering to one another and giggling. How did they have the energy?

The second floor contained three bedrooms, most doors flung open like nobody particularly cared about keeping their privacy, apart from one—the one that Andrew proceeded to open and walk through.

"Ta da!"

What a dork.

"Hey Andy, are you guys gonna be long? Mom wants to know if she needs to pour you tea!"

"Oh my God, give it a rest, Mom so did not ask you." Andrew laughed even as he ushered Kev through the door and proceeded to shut it in front of the twins' faces.

Their protests died out after a few seconds and Kev could hear them galloping down the stairs.

While Andrew dropped their stuff to the floor and stretched, Kev looked around. It wasn't what he had been expecting, but also he realized that he hadn't had any particular expectations to begin with. It was bright—the windows large, the walls a butter yellow—and the bed was a queen. That was the surprise. He'd been expecting a small bed, a teenage boy's bedroom. Probably because Kev had never had a bed wider than a twin in his life. He'd once spent two years sleeping on a rickety old sofa.

Andrew had a queen. He also had a wide, light-colored dresser, a matching desk, and one of those ergonomic desk chairs that were supposed to support you and keep your posture in as good condition as your trust fund. The only other piece of furniture was a tall bookshelf, stuffed absolutely full of books. It looked like fantasy dominated, but he saw some long-ass names, too, like heavy-sounding Russian literature type of stuff.

Andrew had posters up, and they were all framed. Kev wondered if that had been Andrew's doing, or his mother's. The only unifying theme was "movies"—the movies themselves had no rhyme or reason to them, or at least, not that Kev could tell. There was The Breakfast Club, then Dog Day Afternoon, and then The Fast and The Furious. When he turned, he saw the last one—Titanic.

"Dude."

"What?" Andrew was already in the process of flinging open his closet door.

"You're a fucking dork, did you know that?"

"What? Why?" He looked genuinely confused as he rummaged around his closet and came out with a soft-looking flannel shirt, and Kev didn't know how to break to him that most guys probably didn't hang Titanic posters up in their bedrooms. But then, Kev had already known that Andrew was a big movie buff. It was just interesting to see what high school Andrew had been all about.

He pointed to the Titanic poster anyway, just to have something to focus on, because Andrew was suddenly stripping off his hoodie, followed by his t-shirt, and rummaging in his dresser while half-naked in front of Kev.

Not that Kev hadn't ever seen that before. They were roommates. He'd seen all that, and more, but it felt like in invasion to be witnessing it here, in Andrew's childhood bedroom. There was enough chill in the room that Kev could see the goosebumps rise across his pale pink skin.

"Oh, that?" Andrew snorted, and shut the drawer carelessly. "Yeah, what can I say—I contain multitudes."

"No shame?"

Andrew's face disappeared as he pulled on a clean black t-shirt, and when it reemerged, he looked smug as hell. "None. Hey, it won an Oscar, didn't it?"

Kev snorted and let it go. Andrew pulled on the flannel he'd excavated from his closet, and just like that, he seemed to match the house. Why was that? Kev bet that if he got close enough to him, he'd be able to smell the house permeating his every pore, every single thread of the material that made up the shirt, and every single atom that made up Andrew.

Was that a smokiness he sensed? Yeah. Somewhere, a fireplace was already going.

"Do you want to change or anything?" Andrew asked, dropping onto the bed.

"Why? Do I need to?" Kev didn't know if there was a rule about it. He also didn't know where he should sit, the chair or the bed, next to Andrew? What was Andrew expecting of him? Was Kev already failing?

Even as he stood there awkwardly, looking at Andrew, Kev could feel the isolation of it all encroaching, a disorienting darkness beginning to settle in. The pull of depression was always worse as the sun went down.

"No, dude, of course not. I just do it because I hate smelling like car and exhaust and whatnot. Whatever you want is fine."

As soon as Andrew said it, it was like someone fine-tuned Kev's sense of smell. He could feel the scent of the road clinging to his nostrils until all he wanted was to be rid of it. The trip had been a transition. He'd always hated transitions.

"I guess I could..." He turned around and crouched down next to his backpack. He'd brought a few changes of clothes, but knew he'd eventually have to avail himself of their laundry. He just hoped it was somewhere far enough away from everyone that he didn't have to be observed.

He didn't get up in order to change his shirt, or turn around. He shed his hoodie, then stripped his t-shirt off. He could feel Andrew's gaze on him, anyway, and was grateful he'd turned his back. Andrew had visited him in the hospital, had seen him at his absolute worst. But it didn't feel right, exposing him to it in his own home, somehow. His back wasn't marked by anything worse than an occasional zit, and he changed as quickly as he could into a different long-sleeved t-shirt. It smelled like his dresser back at his dorm. For a moment, he felt a disorienting feeling of homesickness but did his best to shake it off.

It was becoming a little easier, these days. The meds were working, it seemed.

"Ready to face the firing squad?" Andrew joked as Kev rose from his crouch and turned around.

The room was growing darker already. It was only three pm. Something about standing over a seated Andrew made Kev feel uneasy and...what was that feeling? Oh yeah. Predatory. Andrew looked entirely unmarred, looking up at Kev in this open, trusting way. For a moment, Kev saw Andrew's light green eyes flicker, and his body processed it before his brain did. His belly tightened, did a wriggle type of wiggle. He swallowed, looked away, and when he glanced back down at Andrew, everything was normal again. "Yeah, uh. Let's go have some tea."

The kitchen was as big as Kev had pictured it—bigger, actually, because he'd always had trouble thinking big.

It had white cabinets and one of those huge white porcelain sinks. The appliances were stainless steel, and the stove had, like, six burners on it. He looked around—oh, damn. There were two ovens set into a wall. Swanky didn't begin to describe it. The fridge was bigger than Kev's childhood closet.

"Kev, honey, what kind of tea do you like? Or are you not a tea drinker? I can make you coffee, or hot chocolate?"

His head spun. "Uh, whatever Andrew's having is fine. Thanks, Ms. Welland."

"Oh, just call me Madeleine, you're both in college now. I'm only Ms. Welland until high school graduation." She smiled as easily as her son did. Her red hair was peppered with grey at the temples. It was pulled back into a pony tail that made her seem youthful, and it didn't actually take that much of a leap to think of her as Madeleine. She had this efficiency of movement that drew his eye. She appeared completely in control of her motions, of every part of her body. She appeared completely and utterly at home.

Andrew plopped down onto the bench by the window, so Kev followed suit, awkwardly shuffling in behind the table. What did they call this on HGTV, a breakfast bench? He imagined it was better sitting here in the morning, when it was bright and airy. He was too aware of how dark it was getting behind him, even with the snow still falling and reflecting white and glowing.

"I don't have any pie for you yet, but I did pick up these turnovers at the bakery today," Madeleine was saying as she bustled around. Should he go and help? Andrew's lazy ass was sitting cozy, but he was probably used to his mom waiting on him.

"Uh, can I give you a hand with anything?" he managed.

"Oh, you're sweet—of course not, you're a guest. Andrew, baby, why don't you heat these up in the toaster oven, hmm?"

Ha. Kev shot him an amused look. Maybe not so used to it, after all. Andrew rolled his eyes and made a big production of heaving himself out from behind the table and marching over to where his mom had put the turnovers on a plate for them. Kev forced himself to relax and unclench as much as he could, watching them move around one another. He wondered when the kooky aunt—what was her name, again?—was gonna make an appearance.

He heard what sounded like an entire herd of elephants coming from the direction of the stairs, and there went the twins, falling through the kitchen doorway. "Andy, we didn't hear you come down!"

"Was it because you were too busy screaming?"

"We don't scream!"

"We can't help who we are!"

They both sounded too indignant for however old they were, and Kev had to work at hiding his smile behind his hand. The movement must have been more obvious than he thought, because one of them—seriously, which one was which?—turned to him and hurried over, plopping onto a chair across from him. "Hi!"

"Hey there," he smiled, no longer hiding it. "Let me guess...Cherry?"

"No, I'm Tessa!"

" _I'm_ Cherry!" The other one abandoned her scolding of Andrew and joined her sister. "See?" She pointed to a button pinned to her sweater.

Kev made a show of squinting. "Are those grapes?"

She rolled her eyes while her sister squealed with delight. "No, silly, that's _cherries_. Have you never seen cherries before?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said as seriously as he could manage. "I probably need to invest in glasses. Obviously those are cherries. That your idea, to wear that?"

She looked at him in what could only be described as smug way. "It was!"

"Liar, it was _mom's_!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Girls!" Madeleine's voice cut through the increasing tween noises. "We don't call anyone names, do we, Tessa?"

"But mom—"

"Uh-huh, _do we_?"

Tessa slumped down, cheeks pinking up. "We don't," she mumbled.

When Kev looked at Cherry, he expected to see a certain look of sibling triumph, but instead, she was biting her lip and giving her sister a worried look. Then she looked at him sideways and also blushed. "I forgot mom had the idea first."

"It's cool," he told her. "Honest mistake. Happens."

He watched as she nudged her sister. "Sorry, Tess."

Tessa sniffed and nudged her back. "Whatever."

" _Girls_."

"Ugh, fine." Tessa rolled her eyes. "Thanks for apologizing."

"Sorry for lying."

They looked at each resentfully for another moment, and then it was like someone pulled a curtain over the whole thing, and they were back to the identical, curious monsters that greeted him earlier.

"Are you into movies like Andy?"

"Do you draw?"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Oh my God, leave him alone. Shoo. Shoo!" Before Kev could process a single question, Andrew set down the plate with the turnovers on the table and forced the twins to scatter. They went, pouting, but didn't stray too far, choosing to watch Kev from the corner of the kitchen.

"Sorry about them. Told you they talk a lot." Andrew came back with steaming mugs for them both, giving Kev an apologetic smile. "Here, tea."

"Thanks. And it's all right. They're cute." If a lot. "I don't draw," he said, addressing the twins, "But my favorite color is yellow."

Cherry beamed at him, while Tessa scuffed her toe against the floor.

The tea turned out to be a chocolatey, pepperminty sort of thing that tasted bitter at first, turning liquid chocolate the more Kev tasted it. It was hot, and sweet, and it warmed Kev from the inside out. When he looked up, Andrew was watching him anxiously. "Good?"

Kev set the mug down. "Really good, man. Thanks."

Andrew beamed and grabbed a turnover from the plate.

It was hours later, when the whole family—apart from Andrew's dad, who was, apparently, working late—was sitting around the living room and chatting, with Kev keeping them silent company, that Kev heard a creepy sort of whistling moving down the stairs. He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed it when the whistling grew closer and a woman walked into the living room.

No, "walked" was the wrong word for it. She glided, looking like an extra from a Harry Potter movie set. She had long, curly hair that was equal parts grey and brown, with a wild patterned scarf wrapped around her head like a hippie. She wore a long, patterned skirt that made a jingling noise every time she moved—it took Kev a second to spot the actual jingle bells hanging from the skirt ties—a bright red turtleneck, and the ugliest Christmas vest that Kev had ever seen.

True, it was the _only_ Christmas vest Kev had ever seen, but that did not take away from its hideousness.

"Andrew, my darling dearest boy!" Her face split into a giant grin as she spotted him. "Why didn't you come up and say hi?"

"Aunt Sandy!" Andrew hopped up from his perch next to Kev and went over to give the crazy lady a hug. He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Kev she was kooky. "Sorry—I didn't know you were in the house."

"I was resting in the library, communing with my poets."

"Poems?"

"Poets, darling. Poems are the manifestations of their breaths, and we are simply privileged to be able to share that air."

"Right. Well, cool. How have you been?"

Kev didn't know what his face was doing, but he did his damnedest to control it. When he glanced over at Madeleine, she was taking a healthy sip of her wine. The two people whose faces would not be controlled were obviously the twins, who had been working on some puzzle on the floor and were now rolling their eyes and sighing loudly.

"I've been as well as I have been allowed to be, darling. Come, sit by me. Oh! This is your friend, isn't it? My, you didn't tell me he was such a _handsome_ young man."

Kev wanted to die. "Uh, hi."

Andrew looked pained. "Yeah, Aunt Sandy, this is Kev. Kev, Aunt Sandy."

"My dear." She floated towards him like that crazy-ass teacher from Harry Potter with the giant glasses. She wasn't wearing glasses, but she did have the air of the crazy-ass about her. If not for that, he would have noticed her face sooner—she was seriously good-looking, if kinda old. Wide brown eyes, high cheekbones—real model stuff. She had probably been a total babe at their age, but the crazy obscured it now. "It's a great honor to meet you. Andrew has told us so much about you." She leaned down and took his hands. He knew he should have gotten up first, but there was nothing he could do about it now, so he forced himself to endure her scrutiny and her grip. "How are you doing now, dear? Spiritually, that is. Are you feeling healed?"

Correction: _now_ Kev wanted to die. He knew Andrew must have told his parents about him, and what had happened, but he'd been counting on their WASPiness to save him from having to talk about it. He could feel mortification coming off of Andrew, tension from his mom, and that unbearable curiosity of his sisters. He swallowed, looking into Sandy's dark brown eyes, and forced himself to say, "Yeah. Doing all right."

She squeezed his fingers. "If you ever need to talk, dear, please know that I am here. I'm a very good listener."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." He extracted his hands from her grip.

"Oh dear. I'm afraid I am being too open again."

Kev gritted his teeth. He felt his shoulders rising up to his ears. His toes curled against the rug.

"You see," she went on, "It is not my habit to hide behind shallow civilities and social norms. I don't believe—" Here, her voice rose with a steely sort of note, "—in keeping quiet for appearances' sake. We will never truly heal if we never talk about the difficult things in life."

Well. Now would be a great time for somebody to come and save him, but he couldn't communicate with Andrew, not even with his eyes, because he thought she'd pounce on him if he even moved his gaze from hers for a second. "Uh, sure...?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Sandy, please let the boy breathe—he only just got here. This isn't about social norms, you're just making him uncomfortable."

Whoa. Okay, cool. Madeleine to the rescue. Sandy looked so annoyed for a minute there, he almost sympathized, but then she snapped back into her serene witch routine, and sank into a nearby comfy chair. "I'm very sorry if I made you uncomfortable, dear," she breathed. "Andrew, darling, will you bring me my sherry?"

"Sure thing."

Andrew skedaddled and left Kev alone. Great.

"What happened to you, Kev?"

"Are you okay?"

"You _look_ okay..."

Oh, fuck. He felt the panic prickling at the corners of his mind, plucking the well-tuned strings of anxiety. Any minute now, they'd grab hold and work up to a symphony of panic.

"Girls!" Madeleine was watching them fiercely. "We don't pester people with questions we haven't been invited to ask."

"Uh, I'll be right back—bathroom—sorry..."

He found himself out in the hallway, looking for the bathroom like a total idiot, half-wild with humiliation.

"Kev?"

Andrew appeared at his side with a tumbler full of amber liquid.

"Just looking for—where's the bathroom?"

"Over there, through the kitchen... Are you okay? Listen, I am so sorry." He lowered his voice. In the dim light of the hallway, Kev could make out the shadows of Andrew's lowered eyelashes over his cheeks, and the lightest of blushes. "I only told my parents, and only because they needed to know where I was. I can't believe they told Aunt Sandy, and I can't—well, no, I _can_ believe she fucking brought it up, because she's a kook, but seriously, I am so, so sorry to have put you in that position—"

Kev cut off his urgent whispering with a hand to his shoulder. As soon as he realized it, he dropped it. Twisted his fingers together. "I get it, man, it's cool. I mean...it's not, but...it's not your fault. I figured your parents had to know."

"And I'm so sor—"

"Andrew. Man. It's okay. She's clearly off her nut. I just..." He paused, uncertain how to phrase what he wanted to say. "I just...don't wanna talk about it. At all. Is there—"

"Yes. I'll make sure of it. Okay? Rest of the time here."

Their gazes met and Andrew had never looked more fierce. Maybe in the hospital, after Kev woke up and found him at his bedside, looking like a knight protecting his kingdom or whatever it was knights protected. He swallowed. "Okay. Thanks."

Then he escaped to the bathroom.

Andrew's dad came home right before dinner, which turned out to be a ridiculously fancy affair, for a regular, non-holiday meal. They all sat around the dining room table with an honest-to-God centerpiece of candles, holly, and pine branches, and said grace before eating.

_Grace_.

Kev had to endure holding Aunt Sandy's hand again, but at least he had Andrew on his other side holding him steady. Aunt Sandy would probably say, _spiritually._ And she stopped asking him questions, anyway. In fact, she didn't say a single word throughout dinner, looking piqued and highly offended.

The meal consisted of a rump roast with orange and thyme, wild rice, and some fancy kale salad that Kev politely washed down with water. It wasn't like he'd never had a balanced meal before, but this one came with a few too many trimmings and trappings of wholesome life. He wanted badly to mock the shit out of Andrew, if only he wasn't constrained by manners. Even the twins were polite little pod people throughout the meal, cutting their meat up into bite-sized pieces before chewing with their mouths closed. The meat and rice really were damn delicious.

"It's very good to see you again, Kev," Mr. Welland said as he poured himself some wine. "I'm glad you'll be staying with us for the holidays."

"Thank you." He'd almost said 'sir.'

"Did Andrew tell you about who'll be joining us tomorrow?"

Kev and Andrew exchanged a look. "Yeah, Dad. He knows about Aunt Mabel and Uncle Mike and stuff."

"And your grandparents."

"And my grandparents."

"It'll be a full house, son, so brace yourself." Mr. Welland seemed happy enough about it, and Kev forced a smile.

"I'm ready," he lied.

Luckily, nobody asked him anything else, and he passed the rest of dinner minding his own business while eating well-prepared meat.

"Sorry about, like, my parents." Andrew hung awkwardly by his own bedroom door. "I'd offer you a beer or something, but I think Aunt Sandy's still down there, so..."

"Yeah, no, I'm cool." Kev watched Andrew for another long moment. "Man, you gotta chill. What's wrong with you?"

Andrew huffed out a laugh, but uncoiled a bit, dropping down onto his bed next to Kev. "Sorry, I dunno. Just...it's kind of weird having you here, I guess?" After a silent moment, he continued. "I mean, it's just...I haven't brought a lot of friends home, you know?"

"Yeah. Why is that?" Kev had often wondered this, but never asked. He surprised himself now by doing it. Something about the muted light of Andrew's bedroom, maybe, or the unfamiliar sounds of a household settling in for the night outside of it.

Andrew shrugged. "I mean, I've never really felt that close to too many people?"

Andrew's mom had said that Andrew finally had a friend when he first met her, and it seemed like the strangest thing in the world that Andrew—open, sweet Andrew—should be friendless. "How come?"

Andrew scratched the back of his head, then bounced up off the bed and went over to peruse his own bookshelves. As he walked, Kev felt a strange, kinetic sort of energy coming off of him, and it zinged across his own skin. He watched Andrew's slim fingers dance across the worn spines of his fantasy books and waited.

"I guess...you know, my parents have always thought it was because I was awkward, or a nerd."

Kev watched the snow continue to fall outside as he listened. He felt his shoulders pulling up, tugging at his skin, at his limbs, at his entire body. He felt _it_ coming on, that unbearable wave that made it hard to breathe. He forced himself to focus on Andrew's voice.

"But honestly, most people just bore me."

"Uh...what?"

Andrew looked over at him, half a smirk building. "What? Surprised?"

Was he? Kev supposed he was—Andrew never said a single negative thing about anyone if he could help it. Certainly not where Kev could hear him. "I guess." Which made him wonder what made him so different from everyone else, since he was here. The possibilities swirled uncomfortably in his guts.

Andrew turned back towards his books. The tips of his ears were pink. "Well, anyway, I didn't go to school with too many interesting people, therefore—not a lot of friends. My parents were always trying to get me to, like, go to school dances, do sports, just, like. Participate and stuff, you know?"

Kev could imagine, but only as a distant picture, or something safely behind a screen. His mom had been too busy with her two jobs to encourage him in anything more than his studies, and Kev had never been much of a joiner, anyway. He could study, though. For a while, it had been the only way to occupy his mind that didn't drive him crazy. Crazier.

"So what, you never told them you just...didn't want to?"

"I tried, but they just didn't get it, I think. Not that they didn't believe me, exactly, more like...they're just so different, they fundamentally didn't understand and kept on trying."

Kev thought that maybe Andrew was waiting for some sort of a reaction from him, but the weight of his expectation became a boulder on Kev's shoulders and he kept quiet for lack of anything useful to say. After a while, Andrew went on talking as he carefully paced the width of his room. Kev had never seen him this edgy, if you could even call it that. On Kev, it would have looked like a day ending in Y.

"My mom's a therapist, so if she found other people boring, that would be, you know, pretty bad for everyone involved. She loves her clients, and I'm pretty sure she's never found a person boring in her whole life. And my dad is, just... I don't know. He's Dad. He's..." Andrew stopped and shrugged. "He's Dad."

_So where did you come from_? Kev wanted to ask. _How did I not know this? Why are you telling me this now_? He didn't ask anything, the questions he had voiced earlier stuck in his throat. The room was dim, and Andrew's lanky form threw a shadow across the floor. It was so weird how now, more than at any other time, Kev felt as far away from him as could be. Mom's voice sounded in his mind, chastising him across the years. _Don't ask impertinent questions, Kevan. Don't intrude._ Don't stand out, she had meant. Don't give them a reason, he'd learned over the years.

_Stop asking_ , he told himself now.

"Well, I'm beat, man."

Something shifted in Andrew's gaze, an imperceptible shuttering. Then he shook himself off and gave Kev a smile—one of those unassuming, sweet Andrew smiles that masked the weirdo within, apparently. "Of course. Here, let me get you a towel and show you to the bathroom. I'll set up the inflatable bed."

Kev stood in front of the mirror for too long, studying his own reflection. Hair a mess, eyes dark, chin in need of a closer shave than he'd managed that morning. He'd lost weight, too. The dorm bathroom was always dim, but here, he saw himself for how he truly was—a messy intrusion into a bright, spotless world.

_Get a grip_.

He brushed his teeth with his back to the mirror.

That night, sleep didn't come easily. The house, the street, the _world_ , was so quiet, there was not enough there to drown out the thoughts. New York was always good for a distraction. As a kid, he would fall asleep to the sounds of the neighbors fighting, or loving, or laughing, or simply living their lives out loud. Dogs and cabs and the thrumming rhythms of a city going through its cycles made up the night's soundtrack. Even as a kid, he rarely slept well, but the presence of others soothed him if nothing else did.

He couldn't allow himself to toss or turn or make even the slightest of movements that would disturb Andrew. It was foolish—Andrew always slept like a rock—but it was just so _quiet_. As Kev began to drift off, the red light of Andrew's alarm clock turned into the flame of a single candle, keeping a vigil over him.

In his dreams, the vigil turned into a funeral.

His tears were silent, and his mother so still. It was a church—it wasn't supposed to be a church—he heard wailing.

Then he was looking up at her as she wailed over him.

Then the darkness turned bright, and clean, and dazzling, and Kev woke up.

For a moment, he was a fish out of water, thrashing and gasping on rough sand. The sheets released him. He took a breath. Then another. And another.

He scrambled up. Andrew was still asleep up on his bed, his ginger hair just visible over the edge, but Kev had made it. He had made it through another night. He rubbed his clammy forehead and simply let himself breathe.

"I hope the inflatable bed wasn't too uncomfortable for you, Kev."

Ms. Welland—Madeleine—was bustling around the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a spatula. By the smell of things, she was frying up bacon and making pancakes. Andrew didn't look surprised, so this must have been a regular Welland household occurrence. Incredible—did they not believe in meals that came in cans or from boxes? He wasn't complaining. His stomach, at least, was in good working order.

Another tiny miracle of the last few weeks—his appetite awakening, uncoiling like a beast.

_Score one for Luz_. His hospital-assigned therapist would be pleased.

"Oh, it was great. Thank you."

She gave him a quick pleased smile and turned back to the stove. She was wearing a fuzzy robe and the sort of pajamas you only saw in TV commercials. Coordinated and with buttons.

"Mmm, pancakes. Mom makes amazing pancakes." Andrew was already pulling out mugs for them and pouring them coffee. Kev didn't have to tell him light and three sugars. "Here."

Kev took the proffered mug with a smile, and made himself sit down at the breakfast nook. The snow had stopped falling for the moment, but the outside was blinding with it. He was right—sitting with his back to the window in the morning was as sweet as the coffee Andrew had made for him. Kev inhaled the scents around him—the crackling butter, the sweet batter, the savory brininess of the bacon—and allowed it to loosen his shoulders. Movement caught his eye and he glanced out the window. Outside, the two identical monsters were already industriously rolling snow into giant balls.

For a moment, he felt at peace.

He had only begun to fully appreciate mornings after he had thought he had seen his last.

"You good?" Andrew plopped down beside him and gave him a smile. He didn't feel far away now, but it was raw, watching him. Why? _Try to tease out what the emotions are_. That was what Luz always told him.

_Why_? He dug around his brain for a possible answer. Like, he had expected to find out something new about Andrew on this trip—it was inevitable, considering they were going to Andrew's childhood home. He had expected it to be something concrete, tangible. A couple of old Playboys hidden underneath the mattress. An embarrassing amount of comic books stashed in a corner. Even someone—maybe a girl next door who Andrew had been nursing a secret crush on for decades.

He had not been expecting the information to come from Andrew himself, offered as if it wasn't a huge, earth-shattering deal.

_Why is it a huge, earth-shattering deal?_ The Luz-in-his-head asked him.

_Because_.

He didn't know.

It was simply because.

"I'm good," he told Andrew over the rim of his mug.

The kitchen was so bright that every freckle on Andrew's face was apparent—the smattering across his cheeks and nose, the handful splashed across his chin like confetti, the steady map of them scattered over his forehead. Kev's mom had had freckles—dark ones, on the tops of her cheeks and down her nose. When he'd been a kid, when she wasn't too tired to engage, she would let him count them with his hands. Carefully, he would walk his fingers across her skin, counting them one by one. He'd had a favorite—a small one right by the corner of her eye. When she smiled, it would disappear, and then reappear, like a wink. That's what he had called it— _wink_.

Andrew had a wink of his own, on the opposite side. Kev looked down into his mug and squeezed his eyes shut. It was an inverse image there, ginger transforming to dark brown.

"Andrew, will you do me a favor and get the girls back in here? And try to get them to take their boots off in the mudroom. You know how grandma gets about wet floors."

Andrew sighed. "Yeah, sure thing. When is everyone getting here, by the way?"

That was when Kev remembered it was December 23rd.

He couldn't believe he had forgotten. His sense of time had become fucked over the last several weeks. It wasn't exactly unprecedented—it had happened before, during darker days, but he had never experienced the sort of complete disconnect between dates and their meaning before.

Mom would have been forty-six today.

The edges of the morning light wavered, dimmed. He took another sip of coffee.

How could he have forgotten?

He itched to text Luz. She'd told him to keep in touch and let her know how he's doing over the holiday. He'd never done it, scared, somehow, to open that door. If he did, he could find himself walking through it every day, treading a well-worn path to instant help without any meaningful reward.

_You're paid to tell me these things_ , he'd told her once when he was having a particularly bitter day. _It doesn't actually mean anything_.

But Luz wasn't the sort of person to bullshit or placate him. _Yeah, I'm paid, because I gotta make a living. But if you think I took this job, and that I care about your well-being, only because of money, you should look up how much hospital social workers are paid._

Yeah, she did care. But he couldn't allow himself to even crack open that door.

In a flurry of exuberance, the girls ran in. The kitchen turned to chaos of breakfast—cluttering plates, scrape of spatula in a pan, excited squeals. Apparently the girls were allowed hot chocolate on weekend or holiday breakfasts. This was neither, but it seemed close enough.

The pancakes were as promised—fluffy, light, just the right amount of sweetness. Kev liked things real sweet, but these hit the spot, especially after he drowned them in syrup. Real Vermont maple syrup, too—in a glass bottle, none of this off-brand supermarket shit in the Welland household.

"I kinda wanted waffles," one of the twins shared in a stage whisper.

"You'll eat whatever I've made or you can make your own," Madeleine responded calmly, flipping the last of the pancakes. "How is it, Kev? All right?"

Kev, who had about half a pancake stuck in his mouth, attempted to swallow, but then just nodded and made an embarrassing noise. She seemed to enjoy the response well enough. Andrew, his own mouth full, smirked at him.

Kev forced himself to stay in the moment. The sweetness of the syrup-laden pancakes trickled down his throat.

The rest of the family descended shortly after breakfast was done and put away. Kev was upstairs taking a quick breather when he heard a car pull up outside. Andrew's room looked out over the driveway, and Kev watched from his perch as another giant SUV pulled to a stop beside the family car.

A voice downstairs yelled, "They're here!"

Kev told himself he was simply staying out of their way as he stood and watched the family file out. The guy who got out of the driver's side was so run-of-the-mill middle-aged white man, Kev forgot his face as soon as it was out of view. The woman who got out next looked harried and a bit strained, but it made sense, considering that as soon as a back door opened, four kids practically fell out, followed by the grandparents. Jesus, it was like a clown car of Wellands. Although, weren't these Madeleine's side? He squinted at the mom—definitely Madeleine's side. Red-haired, Andrew's mouth. He swallowed and turned away from the window.

The Titanic poster stared back at him over Andrew's bed. He couldn't believe Andrew found most people boring but loved this movie. Kev had seen it—of course he had, he didn't live under a rock—but talk about boring and predictable. He had never resented a scene more than the one with Rose on the door. She promised to never let go and then _plonk_ , there Jack went, right into the freezing water.

Kev knew metaphors and allegories and all that jazz well enough, but that had been plain ridiculous. People actually cried at that scene? He had just scowled at the TV and taken another hit of his bong to get refreshed.

The kid he'd been fucking at the time mocked the shit out of him for getting so het up about a stupid white people movie, but Kev hated a badly-executed idea with great potential.

He wondered what Andrew liked about it. He wondered if he dared ask, and if he wanted to hear the answer.

Once he managed to come downstairs, he found it in total chaos. He did his best to melt into the background, but it was like Andrew was honed to his presence. He appeared at his shoulder in a nano-second.

"Kev, hey!" He was ruddy-cheeked from the cold, hair kind of a mess, and that unbearable, inexorable sparkle of his pulled Kev in despite his every better intention. "Once they all settle in, want to meet everyone?"

"Andrew, is this your friend? Can we say hi?" A small child with brown curls and big green eyes bounced up to them. "Hi, I'm Mikey!"

Aha. That would be Junior. He didn't look like a Junior. Kev hoped he took after his mom in looks and not his jar-of-mayo dad. He cleared his throat. "Hey Mikey. I'm Kev."

His shoulder was mashed against Andrew's in a way he couldn't extricate from easily, and he endured its insistent warmth, the sheer physicality of contact that shouldn't have been as intimate as it was. He and Andrew rarely touched. When Andrew had reached out at the hospital and nearly brushed his bandaged wrists, Kev had been well doped-up, but even still, it rocked through him as bad as if Andrew had completed the gesture.

Intimate. Unbearable. Inexorable.

That was how Kev had agreed to come here for the holidays. Andrew had looked at him with those hopeful eyes that seemed unused to rejection and Kev was agreeing before he could think anything through.

Now he was in the middle of a family gale, and the family wasn't even his.

Children stomped in and out the hallway, adults shuffling through with suitcases and bags of wrapped packages, and all Kev felt was a knot in his stomach and his nerves sparking where Andrew's shoulder and arm pressed against his own.

"It'll calm down," Andrew murmured in his ear. "The kids are kind of crazy energy fiends, but my mom's side of the family is pretty chill once they're settled. We'll probably end up playing Scrabble or Uno or something, but that's as rowdy as it gets."

His breath was warm, but his words were ridiculous. "You actually play board games together?"

When Kev looked over at him, Andrew looked confused. "Yeah, of course. I mean, isn't that what people do when they get together?"

Kev honestly wouldn't know. He shrugged, turned back towards the safer haven of the chaos happening in the hallway. "I don't think I've ever played Uno."

"I'll teach you, man. Anyway, want a breather? Mom wanted me to run to the store for some last minute things."

Escaping the house just then felt like the greatest gift Andrew could ever give him.

Kev hadn't counted on suburban grocery stores being agents of holiday chaos, which was, in hindsight, stupid of him. But at least he didn't have to keep track of anyone other than Andrew.

"All right, so—we need red-leaf lettuce, more fresh thyme and rosemary, four oranges..."

"Oranges?"

Andrew looked up from the list briefly. "Yeah, Mom makes amazing mulled wine."

"Wow. Like, _actual_ mulled wine?"

"Oh yeah, it's her family's tradition. My grandma would disown her if she didn't make it this year. So, we also need cloves, cinnamon sticks..."

It took a lot of elbowing of suburban mothers, threading in between tantruming children, and doubling-back a whole bunch of times for them to get through the entire list. Even Andrew looked harried by the time they were unloading at checkout.

The drive back was silent, and Kev was grateful for it. His house was always quiet, once his father had peaced out. Mom never yelled, she was quietly stern, and Kev had never been particularly talkative. Anyway, who would he have talked to, when his mom was constantly out working?

He closed his eyes and let himself rest his head against the window.

"Are you taking a longer way back?" he asked after a while. He didn't open his eyes.

"I wanted to let you have a moment before we have to dive back into the fray."

Despite himself, Kev smiled. Something about the diffused light behind his closed eyelids and Andrew's careful driving made it easy to say, "Dude, why don't you have a girlfriend yet? You're the sweetest kid I know."

Andrew didn't respond right away. When Kev cracked an eye open, he saw that he was flushed, eyes firmly on the road. His shrug was a stilted, uncertain movement. "Told you—most people bore me."

Kev swallowed and didn't respond. Anything short of what he was dying to know would have been a waste of words, and the real question dried up on his tongue.

"Oh good, you're back!" Madeleine looked as harried as her sister had when Kev had watched her from the window hours earlier. She grabbed the bags from them and rushed in the direction of the kitchen. When they followed her, Kev saw an older woman sitting where they'd had breakfast earlier with a pad of paper in front of her, furiously writing. "Mom, the boys are back, we can get started on the dough."

Andrew's grandma nodded without looking away. "Right, so, if we're to have enough for all of us, we'll have to make, what, four pies, Maddy? Five?"

"Four is probably enough."

"Well, with Kevin here—"

"It's Kevan, or Kev for short." Kev watched as Madeleine's ears went as pink as Andrew's always did. Inwardly, he sighed. "And he's right here. Kev, dear, this is my mom."

Andrew's grandma finally looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry! I got carried away counting pies. Kev, is it? I'm Mrs. O'Donnell."

Kev nodded, uncertain as to whether to go over there and extend a hand or what. He chose to wave from his spot as far from her as possible. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. O'Donnell."

She smiled—that Andrew smile, man, it got him even when it wasn't Andrew's face—and nodded decisively, going back to her list. "Six pies, Maddy, we need to feed these boys before they disappear."

Madeleine shook her head. "I'll check the larder for more flour." Then she looked up from putting away the groceries. "Andrew, honey, why don't you go see how your father and uncle are getting on with setting the tree up? I can hear a lot of commotion—make sure the kids aren't under foot, God knows they won't notice..."

Kev followed Andrew out. Did most white people wait to set up the tree until two days before Christmas? He and Mom had had a small fake one when he was a kid. Not much space in their Queens one-bedroom, but because it was fake, it always went up right after Thanksgiving—no worry about it shedding and dying on them. It came with lights, and they'd hang the ten ornaments they'd bought at Rite Aid one year and just stare at it together, with all the apartment lights off. Mom would have a rare glass of wine, Kev would have his hot chocolate, and it was always better than Christmas itself. Christmas was always a disappointment to Kev, because they could never afford the shit he wanted. His mom would try, but mostly she used charities to get him gifts, and they were always knock-offs that just weren't as shiny as the stuff he'd dream up in his head.

They found Mr. Welland and Andrew's uncle wrestling with a gigantic tree that scraped the ceiling. A gaggle of kids were squealing and yelling directions all at once, just like Andrew's mom had said, and Andrew ran over to grab some of them and pull them away.

"Hey, guys, careful—don't get hit. Andy—Andy!"

The girl had the same brown curls as her young brother. She wore overalls that made her look like a blue-collar worker of some sort, especially with her current stance—hands on hips, feet wide apart, assessing the situation like an actual foreman. She was probably eleven or so, but he couldn't be sure. Kid ages eluded him.

"They're gonna break off the top," she muttered when Andrew went to pull her back, as well. "Look how hard they're bending it!"

"I just don't want them to hit you by accident..."

Both Andys had a point—Andrew's dad and uncle were maiming both the tree and the ceiling, and their asses were coming perilously close to shoving a vase off a shelf.

"Uh, Dad, Uncle Mike, can I help?"

His dad grunted. His uncle muttered something under his breath. Kev couldn't look.

"You're Andrew's friend."

Kev turned around and saw an older kid—teenager, actually. She was watching him from under her ginger mop, head tilted. "I'm Katie." She actually extended her hand to him. Wow.

He shook it, introduced himself. "Yeah, I'm Kev. Good to meet you."

"Where's your family?"

"Uh—"

"Katie, c'mon, go see if your mom needs anything, all right?"

"Ugh, whatever." She rolled her eyes and almost strained her neck, watching Kev as she walked out of the room.

"Listen, if we don't take the kids out of here, my mom will kill me. D'you mind going outside?"

How Andrew managed to make it happen, and so fast, he didn't know—maybe Kev wasn't the only one who was under his stupid thrall. By the time they made a couple of snowmen out in the yard amidst the squeals and yells of children, Andrew's dad and uncle managed to wrestle the gigantic tree into place and clipped the top that Andy had been so concerned about.

"Whoooooa!" Mike Junior, cheeks ruddy from the cold, watched it entranced. "That's the biggest tree I've ever seen!"

"The one in New York City was bigger!" Cherry was a combative one, huh?

Andy rolled her eyes. "Duh, but it's not _indoors_."

"I _guess_."

"Who wants to help me carry the decorations down?" Andrew clapped his hands and within mere moments, he had a following of six ducklings thundering up the stairs behind him. "Kev, we'll be right back!" Andrew yelled over his shoulder, and Kev was left alone with Mr. Welland and Uncle Mike, who were shaking out their dad sweaters and clapping each other on the back on a job well done.

"How is the tree coming along? Oh, there she is—a real beauty, isn't she? I knew she'd be the one!"

That had to have been Andrew's grandfather. Kev wished they could all just know each other already and have it be done with, but he tapped into an inner strength he didn't know he possessed and extended his hand. "Hi Mr. O'Donnell, I'm Kev, Andrew's friend."

"Well, good to meet you!" He smiled nice enough under his mustache, and he shook Kev's hand like he didn't mind touching him. Kev had gotten used to being in the minority amidst the NYU student body, but it was nothing compared to this. When was the last time he was the only Black person in the company of a dozen white people, and on their turf, no less? Old white people in particular made him wary.

He took a deep breath. What sort of small talk was expected at this moment?

"Were you the one to pick out the tree?" he asked.

"I've been picking out our Christmas trees since Andrew was a baby," he told him, looking up at the gigantor wedged in between two chairs by the front window. "I like 'em big and sturdy."

Kev nearly choked on his tongue in the rush to stop himself from saying the first thing that came to mind.

Entirely unsurprisingly, trimming the tree turned into a whole thing. It became clearer with each moment that Andrew's mom ran the show, and everyone else followed. Not with any good grace—at least not everyone. Andrew's grandma would purse her mouth occasionally whenever a kid was instructed to put an ornament in a spot not of her choosing, and Uncle Mike would roll his eyes whenever Madeleine attempted to explain to the kids how to behave, which was rich of him, frankly.

Something about the guy gave Kev bad vibes, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Maybe it was because he reminded Kev of a Social Studies teacher he once had. They had been prepping for the Regents and going over the curriculum when Tayesha started asking questions about why they were studying European history in much more depth than Asian or African. Kev thought it was a good point, but Mr. Kazinski evidently thought it was ridiculous enough that he didn't even bother hiding his annoyance while he gave her some bullshit about how European history involved other continents as well. Tayesha went on to become valedictorian of their class, and then skipped merrily off to Columbia. Kev was pretty sure Mr. Kazinski was still polishing the chair in classroom 204 with his lazy ass.

The ornaments going up on the tree were less color-coordinated than he had expected. He had vaguely pictured some monochrome Martha Stewart monstrosity, but mostly, the decorations looked either like heirlooms or handmade, childish things. Then somebody popped a whole boatload of popcorn and Kev was recruited into making a popcorn-and-cranberry string, along with Andy-the-forewoman. An actual fucking popcorn-and-cranberry string. That _was_ some Martha Stewart shit right there.

Andy gave him a single glance, set down her needle and thread, and asked, "Have you ever done this before?"

He didn't even mind her slightly withering tone. "I gotta be honest," he said. "Not once."

"I'll show you, then." All business, she licked the end of her string and performed some magic with her small fingers. "You have to make a knot first, so it doesn't fall off, you see?" She waited for his response, then said, "Here, why don't you take my string, and we'll go from there."

After they exchanged the goods, she showed him her favorite pattern—three popcorns, two cranberries—and they were off.

As he strung the popcorn and cranberries on, smelling the strange scents of pine and movie theater, Kev checked in with himself.

Shoulders? A bit tense, but nothing too out of the ordinary. He rolled his neck a little.

Stomach? Hmm. No habitual knot of anxiety, not even while being eyeballed by an eleven-year old who clearly expected his popcorn string to be perfect. Maybe it was the smell of popcorn—he'd always loved going to the movies as a kid. It settled him, being in the dark and watching other people's stories.

Brain? Not too racy or whirly. He had the most difficulty describing to Luz what it felt like, when _It_ was happening. That pulling, horrible, sinking feeling into never being happy or joyful again. Most of the time, it felt like a dense fucking cloud pushing him downward, but sometimes, it was worse. Sometimes, it was a never-ending spiral of self-loathing so toxic, it choked him for hours. A guttural, inevitable sort of pull that turned everything to ash in his mouth.

It had been that kind of night when Andrew hadn't been home, and Kev had pulled out a straight razor.

"Ohh, that's good, you're doing a good job!"

He blinked and resurfaced. Christ. He looked down at his handiwork—not bad, indeed. The brightness of cranberries interspersed with the puffy light of the popcorn looked almost like jewels in his hands. "Yeah? Not bad for a first time, right?"

Andy gave him a beaming grin. "Not bad at all! Andrew told me you were very good at stuff."

"Did he now?" Kev's stomach did an almost forgotten somersault, and he forced himself to think straight. That meant nothing at all. He'd probably told her that so Kev could have a soothing, repetitive task to focus on.

"He did." Her small hands continued to pluck cranberries from their shared bowl and thread them deftly on. "He said that you were one of the smartest people he knows."

Kev's dry throat clicked. He went to pierce a kernel of popcorn, missed, and stabbed himself. "Ow, shh—shoot." He sucked on his finger. "Whoops."

"Are you okay? Do you need a bandaid?" She peered at his finger with her eyebrows drawn in.

"Nah, it'll be fine, thanks." He shook his hand out. "Can't be that smart, huh?"

"That was an accident, duh. You didn't, like, stab yourself on purpose."

Kev was extra careful stringing the next bit of popcorn onto the string and did not respond.

Kev absolutely hated learning to play games, because rules rarely made sense to him when they were being explained. He especially hated it when he had the entire Norman Rockwell family watching him, making sure he understood before they all got down to business.

He gritted his teeth. "Why don't I watch you play for the first round, and then join in?"

"Sure, that's totally fine. No pressure, man, really."

Kev spent the next fifteen minutes watching Andrew trounce everybody in his family. Of course this nerd would be an Uno shark. There were times when Andrew was seriously the whitest boy of Kev's acquaintance.

"See?" Next to him, Andrew radiated satisfied smugness. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair stood a bit on end because he'd run his hand through it so many times. It was only a momentary madness, but Kev had a flash of what Andrew might look like after sex—debauched and satiated. "It's not so hard. Wanna give it a shot?"

It was only then that Kev realized he hadn't been paying attention to the rules at all. "Uh... Sure?" Oh God, it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn't exactly say that, with what felt like a thousand pair of eyes trained on him in anticipation. He rubbed at his forehead. "I don't think I remembered all the rules..."

He didn't learn the rules on the next round, either, mostly because Andrew tucked himself by his side and whispered instructions into his ear. Kev was grateful his blushes didn't show, but he sweated like a hostage. Every time Andrew's warm breath puffed against his ear, every time he shifted next to Kev or touched his arm, he felt a twinge in his belly, a stirring inside that he couldn't encourage. If it uncoiled, he feared he would lose utter control of it. But Andrew—sweet, weird nerd Andrew—was like a snake charmer, coaxing the desire from him. By the time the winner yelled in triumph, Kev was shivering with want.

"Well, hey, not everyone can be as good as me," Andrew laughed, sitting back.

Kev breathed out. "Sorry, dude. Hey, I'll be right back."

Too aware of each movement, he pushed his chair back and slunk out of the room to the sounds of another round starting up, one of the kids declaring the next set theirs. He took the stairs two at a time and locked himself in the upstairs bathroom.

_Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip._

During the last—and worst—bout of his depression, he'd all but lost his sex drive. He could barely get hard, and there didn't seem to be much point, anyway. Now he was taking his meds, and the punch to the gut of _want_ came slamming back in full force, despite being told to expect the opposite.

He wanted Andrew. He wanted him so much. He had wanted him even when he hadn't wanted anything else. It hadn't even been sex he'd been wanting—just _Andrew_. His spare, thin frame under Kev's; his lanky arms wrapped around Kev; his warm face tucked against Kev's neck.

He propped himself up on the vanity with both hands and did his best to breathe.

That night, after he and Andrew had settled into their respective beds—Andrew up on his queen with Kev on the floor by his side, Andrew finally outlined what the rest of the trip had in store for them.

"All right, so, I didn't want to freak you out, but uh...how do you feel about going to church?" Andrew asked in the dark.

Kev allowed himself a huff of laughter. The rest of the house was surprisingly quiet now, considering it was bursting at the seams with Andrew's family. Not even half an hour ago, it had been chaos of pounding on bathroom doors and aggressive shouts of "Good night!" coming from every direction. "Church, huh?"

He could practically hear Andrew squirming up on that bed of his. "Yeah, we all go for the Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. I mean, you absolutely don't have to, I just wanted to ask, just in case."

Kev turned over on his inflatable mattress and rubbed his nose on the pillow. "It's cool. So what else is gonna happen? Might as well give it to me straight."

Andrew laughed—a single exhalation—then said, "Well, all right. We're probably all just gonna hang out in the morning. I'm gonna suggest going outside a few times—the house can get kind of crowded with everyone all up in each other's business. Then we all have lunch, which is basically a buffet-type of thing, and not too much food, because—"

"Dinner's a big deal?"

"Oh yeah. And after dinner, all the adults put the presents under the trees, and kids are allowed to open one present. And then we play more games, probably, and then church."

"And Christmas morning?"

"Oh, it's a madhouse. My mom and Aunt Mabel are on pancake duty, and my grandparents control the present giving out after that. Then we have a giant breakfast, and another big dinner at night. We don't really do lunch, just sort of pick at whatever's available."

"Y'all are into big meals, aren't you?"

"Hell yeah, man! It's Christmas!"

Kev sniggered. "I should have brought my second stomach."

"It'll be great," Andrew said. Kev could hear the smile in his voice. "You'll see."

It wasn't until after Andrew had fallen asleep that Kev realized his shoulders were barely tense at all. Night covered him like a blanket instead of menacing him with its monsters.

_Happy birthday, ma_ , he told her silently. _I love you._

He fell asleep, still filled with wonder.

As promised, Christmas Eve morning was largely a controlled sort of chaos. Maybe there was a reason why they had been so dead set on playing games the day before—without any structure, meltdowns felt pretty imminent.

And that was just the adults.

"Honey!" Uncle Mike bellowed from the bottom of the staircase as Kev and Andrew were descending for breakfast. "Mikey wants breakfast!"

"Why don't you get him his Cheerios?" Aunt Mabel called down from above. Kev did his best not to look at either Mike or Andrew.

"I can't find them! Can't you come down?"

It went on like that as they shuffled past him, and then met more chatter and wild activity in the kitchen. Andrew managed to scoot the twins out of the way so they could squeeze into the breakfast nook with the other adults, and Kev made himself focus on the incredible smells of coffee and waffles. These weren't some Eggo's—Andrew grandma was manning the waffle maker like a pro, flipping the machine with evident satisfaction, and popping out waffle after perfect waffle.

"Here, since you're the guest..." Andrew slid a plate with two gigantic steaming waffles in front of Kev. When Kev looked up at him, nakedly grateful, Andrew was grinning. "Coffee? Also, didn't know if you'd want butter or syrup or what, so here." He'd been holding the butter dish and the bottle of Real Vermont syrup under his arm, the weirdo, and now extracted them and plonked them onto the table. "Both!"

"Thanks, man."

Kev had a hard time looking away from Andrew's beaming face, but then—coffee and waffles. If he'd stayed in the dorms, he might have treated himself to a diner breakfast, but this felt like a minor miracle in comparison. And it was free.

_Yesterday would have been my mom's birthday._ He didn't know why the desire to say that came on suddenly in that moment, but he swallowed it back and focused on breakfast after mumbling a quick thanks.

He'd barely managed to swallow the first bite when Cherry, Tessa, and Andy appeared at his side and began peppering him with questions.

"I wanna visit our snowman!" Mikey announced after breakfast.

His mom had had to come downstairs before the kid could be fed, because apparently, no other adult knew the exact way he liked his Cheerios. Now she sat on the sofa next to her sister, both with steaming mugs of coffee in hand, and watched the kids putting together puzzles with a small smile on her face.

"Mama, can we go outside?"

"I don't know, does anybody else want to go?"

"I can go myself," the kid insisted.

"I'll take you, buddy," Andrew said, in the most unsurprising move possible. "Anyone else?" He levered himself up off the floor. "Kev, you can stay here, if you want."

With the rest of Andrew's family, who kept sending him looks of varying interest when they thought he wasn't looking? No, thanks.

"I'll come out."

The ritual of getting the kid into his snow clothes was akin to battle, but finally, sweaty and rosy-cheeked, he marched them out the door. No wonder Mabel looked exhausted to the bone. They were quickly followed out the door by the wonder twins and Andy, all pulling their boots on as they hopped out.

Kev felt like he was in a Hallmark movie or something, because pretty soon, a fierce snowball battle ensued and he was laughing—actually laughing—as Mikey attempted to hit him in the head and thwacked himself in the face instead. "Sorry, kid, you'll need longer arms than that if—"

A hard wet thump to his head. Kev twisted around. "What the f—"

"Children abound!" Andrew sing-songed, his smile sweet as pie.

"This is war." Kev knelt down. "Hey, Mikey, want revenge?" Was he conscripting a little kid into a snowball war against his best friend? Yes, yes he was.

The kid toddled over like he hadn't been huffing and puffing about nailing himself in the face with a snowball just a second ago. "Yeah! Revenge!"

"All right, so—you make the biggest, wettest snowball you can, right? And then I'll help you out with the short arm problem, aight?"

"Yeaaaah!"

It was when he was holding a squealing, delighted, squirmy kid in his arms and charging into Andrew with Mikey's snowball-bearing hand held aloft that he identified what he was feeling.

It wasn't joy. It wasn't exactly relief. It was a complete and total absence of dread. In fact, now that the dread had lifted for a blessed moment, he was able to sift through the emotions underneath, and realized that he felt _anticipatory_. As if Christmas Eve, and Christmas itself, wasn't something he needed to get through, but something he was actually looking forward to. Something to look forward to—he hadn't had that since his mother passed.

"Take that!" Mikey yelled as he got Andrew square in his pretty, pink-cheeked face. "Raaaah!"

The next second, Kev and Mikey tumbled to the ground as three pre-teens attacked them from behind.

He had not felt this clearly, brightly wide-awake in years.

It turned out, the dining room table could grow. Kev, alongside Andrew and Uncle Mike, was recruited into pulling the extra leaves out of a closet and inserting them on each end. This was no IKEA plywood—the table was solid pine, and Kev strained under the weight of the leaf he had to set down without damaging the rest of the table.

Across from him, Andrew was doing the same, his face red as a tomato, while Uncle Mike scrutinized their movements and grunted when Kev's grip nearly slipped.

"Careful, now, don't drop it..."

Kev wedged the leaf into place and slumped down. "Yep. Got it." When he wanted to do was land a nice punch to the guy's jowls, but he understood that would probably be frowned upon in this wholesome house.

"Well, now you have to get the pegs into alignment, see? And then get down and work the mechanisms underneath to secure it. Ever done that before?"

Kev set his jaw and thought it best not to answer. He was studying to be a structural engineer. Yeah, he probably knew how to _work the mechanism_. He did it silently and efficiently, pleased that the pegs lined up easy, and the locks didn't even get stuck.

"Andrew, man, need a hand?"

Andrew was making frustrated noises from beneath the table, and Kev thought nothing of dropping down to see what was up.

"Make the kid do it himself," Uncle Mike said. "That's some queer ass shit," he muttered, quietly enough that Kev didn't think he'd been meant to hear it. Or maybe he had been.

He tried to catch Andrew's eye, but the only indication that Andrew had heard was the darkening of his ears. He'd already been red from carrying the leaf, so who even knew, but Kev's desire to land a good punch to the asshole's face only increased.

He decided it best to ignore Uncle Mike as much as he could get away with for the rest of the visit. Andrew swore, and Kev carefully took Andrew's hands in his, lowered them from where Andrew had been fruitlessly fighting the locking mechanism, and finished the job off himself.

Andrew finally met his eye, and it was entirely possible that Kev wasn't the only one in this family who wanted to knock Uncle Mike the fuck out. He gave Andrew a quick smile, then chucked him softly underneath his chin. The smile he got in return was enough to blind a man.

The table was, in fact, right out of Martha Stewart's playbook. White linen lay covered in white plates with gold leaf holly edging. The centerpiece was a silver candelabra, its long candles twinkling merrily. Pinecones and fake pine branches surrounded it, looking like a postcard. The food smelled out-of-this-world amazing—savory, warm, comforting.

Kev was seated in between Andrew and Andy, which, he found, was the best arrangement possible in present company. Andy had praised him for his excellent popcorn-and-cranberry string skills from yesterday and the snowball fight earlier, and now appeared to consider him worthy of conversation. Andrew was Andrew—warm and steady at his side, nudging him occasionally and asking if Kev was okay quietly enough that nobody else, not even Andy, could hear.

Kev couldn't remember the last time he was in a room this loud that wasn't filled with drunk college students. Kid chatter filled in all the cracks that the booming voices of adults left, and the cacophony left Kev little space for thought.

"Kev, Andrew tells us you're an engineering major," Mr. Welland called out. "What made you decide on that?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know—I guess I like making things work." He'd never had a good answer for this question. A teacher once told him he had a head for it, he'd studied up on it, and then it was a done deal.

"An engineer, eh? I guess not everyone can be a rapper. You're not really tall enough to be a basketball player, either." Uncle Mike chuckled to himself as Kev felt Andrew freeze next to him. A sort of tension rippled across the table and adult conversations petered out awkwardly. Kev pretty much wanted to disappear, if only to not have to deal with whatever the hell came next.

"Why would Kev be a rapper?" one of the twins—Cherry—piped up.

"Yeah, Uncle Mike." Andrew. His tone had a razor sharp edge to it. Uncle Mike had better watch out. "Why _would_ Kev be a rapper?" Andrew brought his glass of mulled wine to his lips and Kev watched, rapt, as he slowly took a sip while holding his uncle's gaze. Holy shit.

Uncle Mike grew deeply, uncomfortably red. He huffed and puffed and then deflated like someone pricked him with a needle. "It was just a joke, jeez. I didn't mean anything by it."

"You sure? Okay."

"So, who wants more mashed potatoes?"

Kev largely wanted to vomit, but a sort of defiance made him pipe up, "I'll take some, Madeleine, thank you so much."

He found the courage to reach across Andrew and take the bowl from her hands. He even met her eye and gave her a smile. _Take that, you racist douchebag_.

"Structural engineer—it's a hell of a job. Good for you." Andrew's grandpa. "I'd wanted to become an engineer of some kind back in my day, but didn't have enough, you know, up here." He tapped his head. "But I did all right in the end, didn't I, Mandy?"

Mrs. O'Donnell— _Mandy_? Seriously?—gave him an indulgent look. "You did all right, honey. Business is almost as smart as engineering." Then she turned to Kev and winked. Actually winked. Old white people could be wild.

"What sort of business?" Kev asked. He could feel eyes on him. His fingers dug into the fork he was holding and he had to force himself to loosen his grip.

"Personally," Aunt Sandy's dreamy voice cut across the table silencing whatever Andrew's grandpa was about to say, "I think the most important business is art. Art is what separates us from beasts."

"Uh—"

Uncle Mike mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "high as balls" and Kev hated that he found himself agreeing with the fucker. Then he wondered if Aunt Sandy would share.

"I mean, do we quote engineers or, ha, _businessmen_ as inspirations? No, of course not. We quote Dickinson and Shakespeare and—"

"Teddy Roosevelt!" Andy sounded happy to contribute.

Aunt Sandy stopped speaking abruptly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Teddy Roosevelt! He was President from 1901 to 1909, following the assassination of President McKinley."

"Yes, dear, I know. I meant, what could we possibly quote inspirationally from that man?"

"Comparison is the thief of joy," Andy mumbled. Kev had the weirdest urge to hug the kid. "He...he said that."

"Oh, well. I suppose that fits the bill, though it is a tiny bit hackneyed, don't you think? But my point," Sandy went on in her high-as-fuck tone, "is that the arts are wildly more important than most other work, and just as under-appreciated or utilized."

"Tell that to the people who build your roads and bridges," Mr. O'Donnell said with a chuckle.

"I suppose," Sandy countered, glass of sherry firmly in hand as she gestured, "there is a sort of art to the making of those. Isn't there, Kevan?"

"Oh, uh—"

"The Art of Building Roads and Bridges... I like that..." She sipped her sherry and looked like she'd forgotten other people were even at the table the very next moment.

Mr. O'Donnell didn't miss a beat. "Well, back to business, Kev—I own a chain of convenience stores."

"The art of feeding and watering just around the corner," Andrew's dad said under his breath, and Madeleine snorted into her wine.

Kev leaned down to Andy and told her, quietly enough that no one else could hear, "I like that quote."

She looked up at him and beamed. "I have a poster with it up in my room!"

"Right on." He extended his fist to her, belatedly remembering she was a very white child, but she bumped it the next moment, beaming even harder.

All right. The Andys of the family could stay.

"Mike, will you take Mikey to the potty?" Andrew's aunt sounded tired.

"Honey." Uncle Mike's tone suggested anything but an endearment. "I'm in the middle of a conversation here with my brother-in-law. Can't you do it? What else are you doing right now?"

Kev looked around the table to see if anyone was going to react to that, but people were still chatting, or making a good show of it, anyway.

"Fine." Andrew's aunt scraped her chair against the floor as she stood up, face frozen, and took a dancing Mikey by the hand, disappearing into the hallway.

Kev caught Madeleine's gaze and lowered his eyes. That hadn't been for him to see.

"Kev!"

"Yeah?"

Andy blew her curly hair out of her forehead. "As I was _saying_ , I was curious about your reading preferences. What genres do you enjoy?"

This kid, man. Kev did his best not to laugh as he pretended to think. "Hmm, what genres... I like all sorts of books, I guess. I don't think I gravitate towards any particular genre, if I'm honest."

"What does gravitate mean?"

Talking to this kid was like whiplash. "I guess it means, like...being attracted to. Enjoying."

"Oh! Sort of like Andrew gravitating towards boys and girls?"

A fork clattered, and then all noise stopped. Kev's entire body flushed and then seized up. He felt a painful shift in his brain, like it tilted on its axis. What. The fuck?

"Andy, what the hell are you talking about?" Uncle Mike barked, while Andy looked to Kev for help, which he was pretty unequipped to do right about then.

"I just meant Andrew likes both boys and girls..."

"Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"Mike, please lower your voi—"

"No, this is my kid. Andrew! Did you tell your cousin something you shouldn't have?"

Kev couldn't look anywhere apart from at the slice of apple pie on his plate.

"Uh, we had a...conversation...recently." Andrew's voice was a rasp. He was giving off so much heat, Kev wondered if he'd spontaneously combust. Then he hoped that Andrew would take him with him if he blew.

"What?" Uncle Mike, when Kev finally looked at him, was bright red and furious. "What is wrong with you? You should know better than to fill the kids' heads with this nonsense! They're too young to know about...about that stuff."

"I'm sorry, I missed what Mike is yelling about now," Mrs. O'Donnell piped up. "Andrew, darling, what's going on?"

Kev did a quick scan of the table through the pounding in between his ears. Andrew's mom was burying her face in a glass of wine, while his dad squirmed in place and shot daggers at Uncle Mike. Mr. O'Donnell looked like he knew exactly what the shouting was about, but was determined to ignore it entirely. All the kids were absolutely rapt, like—mouths open, gazes unblinking. Only poor Andy on Kev's left was drooping, giving off almost as much heat as Andrew.

Andrew. Who was bi? And had told his little cousin but not _Kev_?

Holy shit.

"It's no big deal, Grandma." Andrew's voice grew louder. "It's just that Andy and I recently had a talk about relationships, and she asked me some stuff, and I answered. It was a private conversation, but it wasn't—" Here, Andrew turned his gaze on Uncle Mike, and Kev wondered how that guy was still able to keep his head up. Andrew looked ready to slice him open. "—Anything shameful. I explained to Andy that I'm bisexual."

"Oh!" Mrs. O'Donnell blinked a couple of times, but didn't look on the verge of keeling over yet. Unlike Kev.

"Yeah." Andrew shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"I—I see." She took a sip of her wine and glanced over at her husband, who was caressing his mustache sort of thoughtfully. "Oh, where has Mabel gotten off to? I'm going to go check on her..."

"I'm here." Mabel followed on the heels of little Mikey, sweeping her hair out of her forehead and smiling the smile of the tired. Andrew had mentioned she was his mom's younger sister, but one of them looked older, and it wasn't Madeleine. "What's happening?"

"Andrew said inappropriate stuff!" Toby-the-9-year old piped up. "But I don't get it..."

Kev had to cover his mouth with a hand before he could give himself away. He didn't even know what he'd be giving away—horror? Laughter? Relief, utter terror? He was a mix of all of it, and the sudden urge to run as far from here as possible was a beast to fight.

_What can you do at this very moment?_ Luz asked him in his head. _If it's not destructive, do it._

Running away would have been destructive. He had no idea if this town even had a bus or a train station. His shit was upstairs. And he'd be leaving Andrew. He didn't even know if Andrew had just come out to his entire family for the first time, and could not even begin to understand why. He could have just blown Andy off, or told her to shut up, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd told his uncle off and told his grandparents that he liked guys.

Oh, God. Andrew liked guys.

Did he—

No, no, no. Maybe he didn't even know what he was saying. Maybe he was playing it up for Kev's benefit, like...like he didn't want anyone to make more homophobic remarks. But Kev didn't know if they even knew _he_ was gay. Would Andrew have told them? Would they have picked up on it on their own?

This very straight-laced family who had endless children, made waffles from scratch for breakfast, and decorated their dining table with pine cones and holly, would they see him for who he was?

He missed his mom.

He missed his dorm. He missed Andrew.

_His_ Andrew, the one who was his sweet, solid port in a storm. The one who could make him laugh just by being his earnest, nerdy self. The one who never once questioned Kev retreating into the cave he'd created for himself out of his lower bunk bed by tucking a sheet under Andrew's mattress and giving him privacy when he couldn't handle any more input and had to concentrate on his work or just needed a break. His Andrew, who would sit with his laptop at his desk like a weirdo, and Kev would stare at his profile in the dark, illuminated only by the glow of the screen, and feel nothing but comfort and trust.

"—It's only inappropriate if you make it inappropriate, Michael, and nobody here was doing that." Madeleine. Goddamn.

"It is _never_ an appropriate conversation to have in front of children, and frankly, I am completely furious that this is still happening—"

"Ugh, _Dad_ , it's fine, half the school is, like, bi and pan these days, _God_. You're so old." Over her father's spluttering, Katie-the-fourteen-year old made a noise of complete derision and scraped her chair back. "I'm done with dessert, so like, can I go and be alone?"

"No, you may _not —_"

"No, honey, this is family time. You may be excused to the living room."

"No, she may _not_ , she will stay _here_ while I explain that this sort of rudeness will not be tolerated in this house—"

"Michael, please." Mabel had said it quietly, but you could have heard a pin drop. It hadn't been the volume, but the tone. All Kev had seen from her up until now had been largely resigned exhaustion, but this wasn't resignation of any kind. Her tone brooked no refusal and Uncle Mike shut the hell up. When Kev looked around, everyone was giving everybody else the sort of incredulous side-eye you only saw on Real Housewives or whatever. "It's all right, Katie, go into the living room," Mabel went on like nothing had happened. "We'll be there shortly."

Katie skedaddled mighty quick after that, and when conversation resumed, it had a forced joviality to it that made Kev's teeth hurt. Then it occurred to him that he didn't have to stay at the table, either. He was human. He could go to the bathroom.

He escaped as quietly as he could, hoping no one would pay him any mind. He muttered to Andrew that he'd be right back, then slipped out of the room and into the front hallway where he grabbed his jacket, slipped on his boots, and quietly snuck out onto the front porch.

It wasn't till he had his back to the wall that he took his first deep breath of the night. The air was frigid, and he visualized it filling his lungs like white smoke, cleansing him of tension. He wished he hadn't promised Mom he'd quit smoking, because some real smoke might have been welcome right about now, too.

No, this was fine—just him, the glowing blanket of snow in the dark, and the cold, clean air.

You didn't get quiet like this out in Queens, that was for damn sure. For all he would find himself overwhelmed by input from time to time, Kev couldn't imagine living a life here, on this quiet street where people had their own yards and driveways and two-car households. What was it about this quiet that felt so unsettling?

Heartbeats per square foot, that's what it was. The house was packed to the gills now, but when all the guests left, it was just four Wellands—mom, dad, monster twins.

It felt sparse, somehow, and incomplete. Not like his and Mom's apartment building had, bursting as it was with people.

The door creaked open and Kev's whole body tensed. Why hadn't he thought Andrew would follow?

But it wasn't Andrew at all—it was Mabel.

"Oh, sorry," he found himself saying automatically, not sure if he should leave now or if that would be rude or what.

"No, no, stay—I'm the one who's disturbing you. Do you mind?"

She had a coat on, but no scarf or anything, and she hadn't buttoned it up. Kev was about tell her that he didn't mind—what else could he say?—when she reached into her pocket and extracted a packet of cigarettes and one of those cheapo plastic lighters.

Well.

"Do you smoke?" she asked, eyeballing him like she was ready for him to turn narc at the same time as she extended a cigarette towards him.

"No," he said, taking it off of her. She lit both their cigarettes and when Kev felt the smoke hit his lungs, he fell back against the wall and slipped his eyes shut from sheer relief. "Oh, man. Thanks. I needed that." _Sorry, Mom_.

He heard her huff out a laugh next to him. "Me too, kid."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

It was Christmas Eve, and he was hiding from his best friend's family by having a sneaky smoke with his aunt.

What a world.

"I'm sorry about my husband."

Kev's eyes flew open and he looked at her standing next to him. She wasn't looking at him, but up at the sky, for all it was utterly black. He wondered if that meant it would snow again soon. Mabel looked younger in the dark, and she had Andrew's profile. Kev hadn't noticed before. "Uh..."

"I mean, just... I hope you won't let it ruin your holiday."

Kev squirmed, then looked away. "No sweat." At least he wasn't married to the guy.

"We're getting divorced," she said abruptly. "We just haven't told anyone yet."

Uh, holy shit. What? And what the hell did she expect him to say to that? Then he realized she probably had no expectations, and just needed to say it out loud. If they hadn't told anyone yet... "Wow. Um...good for you." He winced, took another drag of his smoke. Had that been too forward?

This time when she laughed, it was full-throated, deep, with a hint of smoke. "Thanks. I guess I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Yeah?" He inhaled another lungful of tobacco. Exhaled.

She shrugged, took a slow drag of her own. "Isn't divorce like a failure of sorts?"

Kev wouldn't know. He didn't say anything.

"We decided before Thanksgiving, but, you know. We were with Mike's family for that, and then it was almost Christmas, and...we'll get going on it in the new year." A tremulous sort of sigh. "What a start to the year."

"I'm sorry." He probably should have said that first.

"No, I'm sorry. Wow." She shook her head and pressed the heel of one hand to her eyes. "I can't believe I just came out here and forced you to listen to family drama you don't care about. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Kev thought he knew. He'd experienced the signs himself, especially as Mom had first fallen ill. Every time he'd walk out after another round of chemo, the nurses would give him the same look that he'd seen Andrew's grandma send Mabel.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he mumbled, wincing inwardly at how presumptuous and stupid he probably sounded. "Divorce isn't a failure. Maybe more like knowing when to cut your losses."

"Yeah?" She turned her head towards him and gave him a smile—genuine, blinding. In the near-dark, he thought her eyes looked a little less spooked now. "I like that. Wonder if Mikey will see it that way. What do you think?"

"Uh—"

"Sorry. Gallows humor. I'm wrecking my family." She threw down her cigarette, stomped it out until it was nothing but ash, then buried it under snow. "Andrew's a really good kid, by the way. First grandson, and he could have been spoiled all to hell, but Madeleine would never allow that. I don't think he could have become spoiled even if we'd tried, to be honest. When he was really little, like, three or four—I was still in college—he broke Maddy's favorite vase. It had belonged to our great-aunt and Maddy had been so damn proud of inheriting it." Rapt, Kev could only watch her as she shook her head, looking rueful. "She kept it in a special place, behind glass. Family heirlooms were always important to her. Anyway, she had taken it out once to dust the shelf and..." She made a gesture like, _kapow._ "He'd been playing with trains on the coffee table or something and knocked it over. It shattered into a million pieces, and poor Maddy was beside herself. Not that she was blaming him," Mabel rushed on. "Just that she was so upset, she couldn't hide it. Know what Andrew did?"

Kev shook his head, still captivated by the precious glimpse she was offering him.

"He put himself in the corner. Nobody knows to this day where the kid had gotten the idea from. Maddy had never put him in the corner once, only had a time-out chair in the hallway, but...he put himself in the corner, and said, _Andrew's bad_. I mean, it was heartbreaking."

"He said he was bad?"

She nodded even as she half-laughed. "Yeah. And then he said, Mama, I fix it! And dragged over his bin full of Elmer's glue. Mama, I fix it..."

Andrew _was_ a fixer. There were times Kev wondered if Andrew was only friends with him because he sensed Kev needed fixing, but he hated that thought more than any other, so he did his best not to dwell on it. Of course, like a beast, it would gnaw at him in the darkest of moments. After Andrew had found him that night, Kev wondered if he'd managed to subconsciously plan in that way—that Andrew would save him. Then again, Kev hadn't been capable of planning anything more complicated than _fuck it all_ , so who even knew.

"That's wild," he said now, shaking his head. "What a do-gooder."

"Mmm. You know...I named Andy after him. I've always lied about that, told him it was Mike's great-aunt's name or whatever, but he was the kid who made me want kids. Katie was named after Mike's mom, but Andy...Andy was because of Andrew."

Kev's head was spinning. "You didn't want kids?"

"God, no. Well, I don't know." She took a deep sigh, slumped back against the wall. "I wasn't sold, let's put it that way. Wouldn't change a thing now, though." She paused. Kev imagined they were both thinking the same thing. "I love them. I just don't want to mess them up."

"They...they seem like pretty great kids, to be honest."

"Yeah?" The smile she gave him was heartbreakingly hopeful. Jesus, why was she coming to him with all of this? Didn't this woman have friends who could tell her the same things?

"Totally."

"I can't believe Andrew came out to Mom and Dad."

Oh God. Kev had nearly forgotten. "Uh, yeah..."

"I knew he and Andy had talked about it, she told me."

"She did?"

She grinned. "Sure. We're close. She knows I won't...tell her dad. She's got her first crush on a girl, you see."

"Oh." Of course. That made a hell of a lot of sense, now that he thought about it. "And you're..."

"Oh God, I'm fine. It's Mike...well. I'm fine with it. I'm fine with Andrew, too. Hell, he told me when he was fourteen and angsting over it." The smile on her face was so fond, Kev's whole chest felt like it had been squeezed.

"He never told me," he blurted out. "I didn't know."

"What?" She looked at him with her mouth open. "You didn't know Andrew was bi?"

Kev just shook his head. Why? Why hadn't Andrew trusted him with it, why hadn't he _said_?

"Oh. Well..." She looked down at the ground, then ran her hand through her ginger hair. "Has he not dated anyone since you guys met?"

"Not that...not that he's told me. I mean...we just haven't talked about that."

"Huh. Well."

The front door squeaked open and yellow light spilled across the porch. For a moment, Andrew was a stark silhouette, and then he moved forward and his face came into focus. "Hey." He gave them both an uncertain smile. "The kids are clamoring for their Christmas Eve present..."

"Of course! Sorry, just got lost in our chitchat." Mabel rushed inside, leaving Kev alone with his smoldering cigarette and Andrew. He threw the cigarette on the ground, made sure it was out, then picked it back up and pocketed it.

"Hi."

"Hey."

Carefully, Andrew shut the door behind Mabel and leaned one shoulder against the wall. He wasn't wearing a coat or anything, and Kev thought he saw him shivering. He didn't know what to say.

"Listen, I'm...I'm sorry about Uncle Mike," Andrew began. "I should have...I should have probably warned you, but I was honestly hoping for better than that from him. He's...he can be unpredictable, but he's never this bad. I just...I feel awful. I'm sorry."

Kev pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, then dropped it. "That's what you're sorry about?" Shit. That had come out meaner than he'd intended.

In the darkness, he saw Andrew flinch. "I...yeah."

Kev waited, but when the silence stretched out, he said, "Okay."

Then he moved towards Andrew—Andrew took a step backwards—and Kev, feeling like complete and utter shit, carefully opened the front door. He didn't wait for Andrew to follow.

Kev hadn't been to church since he was a kid. Mom got to be too busy after dad split, and he wasn't exactly clamoring to go into a place that promised he would burn in hell for being a homo.

This place was slightly different from the church of his childhood. For one, it was ninety percent white. Decked out for Christmas, but in tasteful ways—lots of candles, with what Andrew called an Advent Wreath up front. Dark red ribbon ran along the backs of pews, and all the church-goers were decked out in their Christmas best. If Kev had felt uncomfortable in Andrew's house, it was nothing compared to this.

"I thought you said it was a midnight mass," he whispered to Andrew once they were seated.

"Eh, if you start earlier, more people attend. Anyway, we're Methodist, not Catholic."

"What's the difference?"

Andrew cracked a grin. "Less hardcore."

Kev could argue that going to mass at eleven pm was just as hardcore as midnight, but he desisted. He was seated at the far end of their pew, thank God, with the rest of the Wellands et al seated on Andrew's other side. He and Andrew were squished together again, and Kev didn't think they'd ever touched this much in their whole time of knowing one another. His armpits prickled, and the collar of the crisp white shirt he'd had to borrow from Andrew chafed his neck.

"You look so proper," Andrew had told him once he Kev had changed, but then he'd hurried out of the room and left Kev to wonder what the hell that even meant.

Now that he was here, it occurred to Kev that he should have stayed back at the house, like kooky Sandy had. What was he doing here? He didn't belong at this church. His very skin announced him for the interloper that he was.

"How long did you say this thing lasts?" he muttered.

"Just over an hour. That okay?"

Kev nodded, all the while screaming internally. A whole hour wedged in between a hard pew and a warm Andrew, who hadn't even seen fit to tell Kev—Kev, his best friend—that he was bi. As the mass wore on, and the choir sang, Kev thought back to all the moments Andrew could have done it. Whenever Kev would get back from a hookup, whenever they'd get drunk together and talk about past relationships... Except, of course, it was mostly Kev talking, and Andrew listening. Andrew asking questions. Andrew coaxing him into revealing himself, bit by tiny bit. Occasionally, Andrew would go on a date with a girl and come back in the morning without a single word apart from "nice" to say about it.

Had any of those dates actually been with guys, and he'd simply allowed Kev to assume otherwise?

Kev jumped as Andrew's pinky brushed his own over the seat of the pew. His heart plunged down to his feet, returned, and beat three times faster. Kev looked down—had it been an accident? But Andrew's pinky was still there, resting against his own as if with intention. Then—his heart sped up even more—Andrew moved his pinky over Kev's and hooked on, squeezing. The choir was singing _Silent Night_.

Bewildered, Kev looked up, but Andrew looked impassive as he listened. Only the flush of his cheeks gave him away.

Kev looked away and focused on the choir.

Their hands were still touching when the midnight bells went off.

It was Christmas.

They didn't speak the entire way back. It would have been hard to, anyway—they were sharing the car with Andrew's parents and sisters, who were both asleep in the very back, identical mouths open, leaning towards each other like saplings.

Kev watched the empty roads go by and wondered what the feeling in his belly was. It felt impossible to pin down, and it wasn't just in his belly. His heart felt in on it, as did his skin, and his throat. Everything felt tight and tingly as his blood beat faster through his veins.

They arrived with the quiet crunch of snow against tires. The girls woke up, yawning behind them, and he and Andrew had to hop out to let them out. Madeleine and Andrew's dad helped them down, each one bundling a girl in their arms and making an efficient beeline for the house. Mike and Mabel pulled in after them, the SUV spilling out kids and grandparents, and the whole time, Kev and Andrew stood aside and let everyone pass without saying a word to one another.

"Andrew, Kev?" Madeleine peeked out of the front door. "Are you boys coming in or spending the night outside?"

"We'll be in in a minute," Andrew said, and then, they were completely alone in the freezing night, both watching the house.

Kev swallowed. Andrew's presence next to him was overwhelming. He wasn't looking at Andrew, but he was intensely aware of being under Andrew's scrutiny, and it felt nearly suffocating, not saying a word. He needed Andrew to start. He needed Andrew to _speak._

"Kev—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" It burst out without his input, and he turned to Andrew, taking in his bright pink cheeks illuminated by a streetlight, and his eyes, huge and terrified. "What the hell, man?"

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"You're my best friend. Do you know what that means?"

Andrew looked agonized as he chewed on his lower lip.

"It means you _tell_ me shit, all right?" Kev reached out and shoved a single finger at Andrew's chest, covered by his stupid preppy peacoat.

"I know, I'm _sorry,_ it was just—it was—"

"What, man? What?" Kev realized he was being way too loud for a sleepy Connecticut street and dropped his voice. "You just let your little cousin tell everyone?"

"It wasn't—shit, Kev, that's not how it happened—"

"That's how it happened from where I'm sitting. And like, I'm not saying you have to share all your shit with me, but this, Andrew, man, _this_? And what had that been, back at the church?"

Andrew flushed deeper, and Kev realized they were mere inches away. "It was...I wanted you to know that... I wanted you to know..."

"What?" Kev's throat hurt from forcing himself to be quiet. Was that the only reason? "What did you want me to kn—"

The rest died against Andrew's lips. Kev jerked back and Andrew immediately retreated. Their gazes me.

"This," Andrew breathed. "I wanted you to know this."

Kev watched him, every atom in his ricocheting back and forth, forcing him to tremble. "I..." He swallowed. "I don't know what that means." He was touching his own mouth. He hadn't made a conscious choice to.

Andrew licked his lower lip, then stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I didn't want to tell you the whole truth because I liked you." His voice was trembling. "Like you. So much, Kev."

Kev was getting lightheaded. Huh? _Oh_. He dragged in a deep breath, let it slowly out. It puffed out between them. He was aware it was freezing outside, but the cold was no longer touching him—he was burning up.

"Then why—"

"Because I didn't want you to feel pressured. You see? If you'd known, it would have...it would have changed us. I thought of telling you every day. Every single day. I almost told you when you came out to me, do you remember?"

Yeah. Kev remembered.

_" Listen, man, if we're really gonna talk about being roommates, you should know something."_

_" What is it? You clip your toenails in front of people for funsies?"_

_" Nah, dude. I'm gay. You still okay to live together?"_

_Andrew hesitated, then gave him a giant grin and said, "Of course. So, no exhibitionist toenail clipping?"_

_" Nah, not my kink."_

"I'd almost said it then, but...I didn't. I was...I was already so into you."

Kev's chest was rising up and down at an alarming pace, and he wasn't getting any less lightheaded. Andrew had been into him before they'd even moved in together? That had been last January, when Andrew's roommate had dropped out with no preamble and Kev's was driving him insane.

"Why? Why _not_?" He sounded close to pleading. "Couldn't you—couldn't you tell?"

"Tell what?"

"That I was into you, too, you idiot!" His voice rose again, but he didn't modify it now. The cold air hitting him every time he opened his mouth felt so good, so pure.

"What? Why?"

Kev rolled his eyes and pulled Andrew in by his lapels. "You're such a dumbass."

Andrew's lips were hot against his, and his mouth, when Kev deepened the kiss, even hotter. A desperate noise vibrated between them— _Andrew_ —and Kev pulled him in harder, as if there was any way to get closer while they were wearing shirts and sweaters and scarves and coats.

Kev couldn't believe he was kissing Andrew. He couldn't believe Andrew was kissing him back. Kissing him back desperately, beautifully, soft and biting at once, hands wrapped around Kev's jaw. Kev had always loved it when guys did that. It made him feel warm, protected. Cared for. Andrew was cradling him as if he wanted to keep him safe.

Kev broke off when he had no more air in his lungs.

"Oh." Andrew rested his forehead against Kev's. Their noses touched. "You have a dog nose," Andrew murmured.

"Huh?"

"It's cold." Even with his eyes closed, Kev knew Andrew was smiling.

"Does that mean I'm healthy?"

A warm exhalation against his mouth. "Kev..."

Kev blinked a few times, his mind clearing. He flattened his hands against Andrew's chest and pushed him away. "We need to talk, huh?"

Andrew looked so serious just then, like he was getting ready for battle. He covered Kev's hands with his own and squeezed. "Let's go in."

As Kev followed Andrew in, hand in hand, it began to snow.

Someone had left the fire burning low in the living room. The rest of the house was dark, and they did not turn on any lights. They chucked off their boots, then Andrew took off his coat, reached for Kev's. Kev allowed him that odd moment of chivalry, and trembled at Andrew's breath ghosting over his neck as he slipped Kev's coat from his shoulders. The trembling turned to shivering as his body adjusted to the nip in the air.

Andrew led them to the living room and settled on the floor by the fire. Automatically, Kev joined him. It was odd, feeling the heat from the fire at his front, and the slight draft of the cold at his back.

"I was getting ready to tell you," Andrew began with no preamble. "Last March, I knew it was getting ridiculous, and I was making too big a deal out of it, but..."

But Kev's mom had taken a turn for the worse in March. She was gone by April.

"Oh."

Andrew reached out and took Kev's hand in his. "It didn't...it didn't feel right, after that. And I...later, I just... I didn't want to burden you with...this stuff. You had so much going on. Do you get it?"

In the firelight, Andrew's eyes looked almost amber. What a strange trick of the light. It was as if he took on the properties of whatever surrounded him at any given moment. Out in the snow, his eyes had glinted his eyes had glinted bright, a flash of steel in the cold. Now they glowed with the reflection of the crackling fire, and Kev longed to reach out and run his fingers over his eyelids, the softness of his cheeks, the texture of the ginger stubble starting to show around his jaw.

He curled his fingers into a fist, leaving it in his lap. "Why would it have been a burden?"

Andrew raked a hand through his hair and turned to look at the fire. "It's just...you've had a truly shitty time. It wasn't about me, I didn't—I didn't want to make it about me, you know? You were..."

A mess. A disaster. A lifeless zombie.

"You were vulnerable."

Kev snorted out a laugh. "Yeah. That's one way of putting it."

They were silent then. Kev felt questions swirling in his mind but they were hard to pin down or separate. Then one in particular floated to the top and he caught it, allowing himself to blurt out, "Why now, though?"

Andrew turned and their gazes met once more. "It's not because Andy spilled it. You should know that."

Kev blinked. Andrew looked fierce, almost angry. It was clear the anger wasn't directed at Kev, but he still felt himself drawing inward, making himself smaller. "Okay?"

"I was...I was gonna tell you. On this trip. I was just so fucking scared because...you're my best friend. You mean so much to me. I'm so scared to wreck us."

Kev felt his heart squeezing, releasing, beating harder. Andrew wasn't a particularly demonstrative guy. Always genuine, but rarely this verbose about his feelings. Telling it to Kev straight like that—it was like a series of tiny explosions getting set off through his body, waking him up. It was almost one am, and he was as awake as it got.

After the grey, sucking fog of this whole year, this reawakening was setting his skin alight.

"You can't wreck us," he whispered, uncertain he even believed that. But he wanted to. He wanted so badly to believe it. "Andrew, I—I've never had a friend like you. Okay? I..."

Andrew had just come clean, so it was Kev's turn, wasn't it?

_Maybe the thing you're imagining coming true in your mind is just your fears owning you. Don't let them._

If only Luz was here to hold his hand.

But then again...maybe he didn't need her to.

What was his biggest fear? That he would somehow sully Andrew. That he would suck him into his depression, his world of bleak thoughts that would grip him so hard sometimes, he couldn't get out.

But he was _working_ on that, wasn't he? He was taking his meds. He was going to therapy. And Andrew was watching him in a way that made his throat close up.

_Be brave_. That sounded like Mom.

"Look." Kev straightened his back, leaned in, caught Andrew's gaze. "If you don't want us to...to be anything other than what we are, that's fine. I'm not gonna force you, I'm not gonna—" _Make a fool of myself trying_. "But if you wanna try. If you wanna come over here to me and let me show how much I want you..." He swallowed, forced his hands to unclench. "I will do it in a heartbeat," he whispered.

Andrew exhaled, and Kev felt that ragged breath in his bones. "Fuck. _Kev_."

They met in the middle. On their knees, they kissed—hot, hard, open-mouthed, velvety kisses that stopped all thought. Andrew felt just as good in Kev's arms as Kev had imagined, all those times in his mind he barely allowed himself to acknowledge. Those long seven nights in the hospital, after Andrew would be kicked out of Kev's room for the night, and before he would return in the morning with smuggled-in Twizzlers and a flask of Starbucks coffee.

He was a thin dude, but he was strong, lithe. He trembled in Kev's arms as Kev lowered him to the floor, still kissing, and ran his own shaking hand down to where Andrew's heart beat hard and fast.

"This much," he whispered as he covered Andrew's face with kisses. "I want you this much." The thin skin of Andrew's eyelids was warm and silky and Kev felt a tenderness ripple through his belly. He slowed his movements until he was caressing Andrew with his lips and fingers. Small, gentle movements as Andrew shook beneath him. Kev was hard, but he couldn't spare it any thought, not even that this was the first contact with a guy he's had in over a year.

Because it wasn't just contact, and it wasn't just some guy.

This was Andrew, and he was uttering Kev's name like he was praying.

Kev caught Andrew's mouth in another soul-searing kiss, and finally lowered his body to meet Andrew's. Oh God, it felt incredible. Everywhere they touched—chests, hips, legs—he felt another awakening. He wanted so much, he wanted _everything_.

Andrew had him round the waist as he hauled Kev fully on top of him. Kev gasped as their erections touched, ground down automatically. The friction, the pressure—God, it drove him wild. "Fuck."

Andrew groaned, ground up against him. They couldn't stop kissing, and if they didn't stop kissing, Kev would absolutely blow too soon, and he never wanted this to end. And they were still fully clothed.

He broke off just long enough to say, "Let's get upstairs. I really don't wanna be interrupted by your grandpa coming down for a glass of milk or something."

"Did you mean Santa Claus?"

Kev pulled back. It was impossible to say if Andrew was being a smart-ass or not, but he cracked up anyway, and scrambled off of him. "Lead me to your giant-ass bed now."

Andrew's face grew serious and he followed suit, clambering up to his feet in a seriously ungainly move, and reaching for a fire poker.

"Dammit, come on..."

Kev watched as Andrew fought to douse the low fire in ashes. He was still hard as fuck, but something about the crackling of the fire and the flying sparks settled him in a wholly new way.

He felt anticipation, yes, but not just anticipation—it was certainty. A certainty in Andrew. A certainty that once they got upstairs, Andrew wouldn't pull away, or get suddenly shy, or tell him he'd changed his mind after all.

No. Kev gloried in his desire, his trust that it would be fulfilled as soon as this fire was out.

He definitely planned to start another one upstairs.

Finally, the last of the ambers went out and Andrew straightened up. It was so dark around them now. He guessed the Wellands didn't believe in running Christmas lights all night long, which was fine. Andrew took his hand and led him confidently towards the staircase, then up. Their hands sweated together, and every step they took sounded too loud to his ears.

It was stunning agony, waiting until they were finally safely behind Andrew's closed door, mouths meeting even as they struggled to get each other's clothes off.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into wearing a button-down..." Kev's fingers felt like claws as he attempted to undo button after fiddly button.

"Here, let me..."

Kev dropped his hands and, eyes already adjusted to the dark, saw a crooked smile form on Andrew's face. "You're such a choir boy. How come you weren't up there singing Christmas songs?"

A quick glance up, then Andrew looked back down to where he was unbuttoning Kev's shirt. It wasn't the most intimate thing they'd done together, but it felt like he was undoing Kev with every bit of skin he exposed. "I lost my voice when I got my balls."

Kev blinked. That was surprisingly crude, for Andrew. "You were seriously a choir boy? Wait, of course you were."

Andrew's response came in a dip of his head and then a slow, hot lick to the spot below Kev's jaw. The noise Kev made was ungodly.

Andrew hummed, and then a ripping sound made Kev jump—Andrew had actually given up on buttons and pulled half of them clean off the shirt. "I remembered this was my shirt," he whispered before tugging Kev closer and claiming his mouth in another hot kiss.

Goddamn, this boy could kiss. Where did he learn to kiss like that? Kev's knees threatened to buckle at the slide of their tongues against each other.

"Are you a secret player?" he mumbled as he went to rip Andrew's shirt right back. The clacking of the scattering buttons could probably be heard in the City. He didn't give a shit.

"Who, me?"

Andrew sounded innocent enough, but Kev was learning better. Andrew's hands were already on the button of Kev's pants, then dragging his zipper down carefully over the bulge of Kev's dick.

"Oh, f-fuck..." Kev's head fell back and he had hold onto Andrew's shoulders for purchase as Andrew ran a hand against his erection. He rarely allowed himself to picture what the two of them together would be like, but if he did, he never pictured it as Andrew leading the charge.

He didn't hate it.

Kev sucked in a breath as Andrew squeezed him, then managed to walk them the two steps towards the bed. "You have got to get naked," he whispered, extricating himself from Andrew's grabby hands. "C'mon, man."

Andrew sent him a wicked grin as he stepped away and began discarding all of his clothes—shirt, undershirt, pants, socks, and finally, his boxer-briefs. Kev's mouth watered, his blood pounding hot through his veins. Andrew seemed to glow in the dark, a lanky beam of light that lured Kev to him like a moth.

Then they were falling into bed, and it was Kev clasping Andrew against him, and it was perfect. Andrew's skin was smooth and warm and every time he moved against Kev, Kev shuddered with how good it all was. Andrew rubbed up against him and just when Kev thought they would both come just like that, kissing and holding onto one another, Andrew slid down and engulfed Kev's dick in his mouth.

"Nghh— _fuck._ " Kev grabbed Andrew's head and bit his lip against a cry. He had to be mindful of everyone else in the house, but Andrew was _sucking his dick_ , and doing it like...well, like it wasn't his first time. Kev couldn't catch his breath and he had to stuff his fist into his mouth just to keep himself quiet. He was quivering all over, peripherally aware of Andrew's heavy breathing as he sucked him off with shocking expertise.

It didn't take that long for Kev to come—a combination of not having gotten any in over a year, and Andrew's wicked, talented mouth. He managed to tug Andrew up by his ginger hair before shooting. It caught on Andrew's open, red mouth, his chin, the tip of his nose. Kev felt another release as he shook from pleasure, and it sprang out of him with a laugh, half-delirium, half-joy. He used his thumb to wipe the tip of Andrew's nose as his body slowly came down from the apex of euphoria, then licked it off. He didn't even care that the movement probably alerted Andrew to the scars running across Kev's wrists, the ones he'd spent so long hiding from view.

Andrew didn't appear to take notice, though, as he slowly took care of the mess on his face. Kev couldn't look away as Andrew wiped his lips clean with his tongue, then used a discarded shirt for the rest. When Kev glanced away from Andrew's face, he saw his cock—hard and dark and tempting, like all things good.

"C'mere," he urged, then didn't wait for Andrew to do his bidding, sliding down until he was face to cock with him. He grabbed Andrew's hands and spread them with his own, pinned him to the bed. Despite already coming, he felt needy all over again, and sumptuous. He inhaled the scent at the top of Andrew's thighs, reveling in the shiver that ran across the pale skin. It was as if orgasming had simply scratched an itch, not getting to the need within. His blood pounded and he allowed himself to take his sweet-ass time. He stretched, cracking his back, bending at the waist, feeling the sensuous freedom of being naked with a person who wanted him.

"Jesus Christ, Kev." Andrew's voice broke on his name, and when Kev looked up at him, Andrew was staring back in wonder.

"Like what you see?" He wiggled in a way that brought Andrew's gaze directly to his ass. He'd lost a bunch of weight in the past year, but he knew his ass was still in good shape—round and firm and cute.

Andrew appeared to agree. He licked his lips. "God, yes. You're so gorgeous."

Kev smiled, Andrew's gaze intoxicating, waking his dick from its temporary slumber. That felt good, too—his desire hadn't been slaked yet, it was only just beginning. He allowed the heaviness of his hardening dick to lead him and finally lowered his mouth to Andrew's erection.

Mmm, God, he tasted good. Kev went deep right away, stretching his mouth to capacity, then widening his throat, getting himself used to the act again. It had been a while. Andrew was already leaking, tasting like all things sex heaven, and his skin was like silk against Kev's tongue.

He made noises, too. Unlike Kev, Andrew couldn't muffle them with his hands—Kev still had hold of them, and the grind of bone against bone was an exquisite counterpoint to the lushness of his cock in Kev's mouth. Andrew's noises were too quiet, probably, to carry through the house, but they made all the hair on Kev's body stand on end. High-pitched, breathy, needy little moans, escalating in desperation the harder Kev went.

He knew when Andrew got close, felt the pounding of it against his tongue. Andrew couldn't stop Kev from swallowing it down, once his orgasm hit, not with Kev still in possession of his hands. He took as much as he could, then let the rest dribble down against Andrew's darkened cock. He lapped at it slowly, languidly, his lips and throat sore and used and alive. He was still hard, too, and he allowed himself a moan of pleasure as his cock brushed against Andrew's shin once he slumped down.

"Christ," Andrew breathed out, and another little bubble of laughter escaped Kev.

"Is that appropriate or inappropriate to the moment?" His words came out slurred, thanks to his abused tongue, but Andrew must have gotten the gist, because he cracked up.

"You're awful."

"I know. The worst."

Finally Kev unclenched his hands and let Andrew go. Immediately, Andrew's hands were hauling him up and he went, settling right on top of him. He wiggled again and Andrew grabbed hold of his ass with one of his giant hands. "Mmm. So good."

Kev hummed his agreement. His need was present, but not overwhelming, and he thought he could stay hard and wanting forever, if Andrew would have him.

"That's really hot." Andrew's whisper was hot against his cheek.

"What is?"

"You getting hard again."

Kev pressed up against Andrew's hip. "I like sucking dick."

"Mmm. You're good at it. C'mere..."

Andrew brought him off by hand—slow, and slick, and tight. Kev hid his face in the crook of Andrew's neck and bit down when he wanted to scream. The room was no longer chilly at all, and the flannel sheets—of course Andrew had flannel sheets on his bed—crackled against the hairs on his legs.

They fell asleep with Kev's come drying between their bellies.

Kev woke up to a kiss. He kissed back automatically, half-asleep, lips already forming a smile. The kiss tasted like peppermint. It was that which woke him up fully, and he pulled back, Andrew's smiling face growing into focus. It was still dark. "Did you brush your teeth?"

Andrew opened his lips and Kev saw a round peppermint candy pop out from between his teeth. He slipped it back in and grinned. "Merry Christmas, buddy."

Kev rubbed his eyes and slumped back down, his own grin growing without permission. "Buddy? Really? You call every guy you sex up "buddy"?"

Andrew pecked him on the lips in response. "Only the special ones."

Kev shivered and shuffled closer. "How come we're not stuck together?"

Andrew frowned before his expression cleared. "Oh! I, uh. I cleaned us up. You were totally out. Do you always pass out after sex?"

Of course he cleaned them up. "You were a boy scout, weren't you."

"Yes. They taught us to always clean your jizz up after sex as a courtesy to your partner."

Kev laughed and shoved at him, then used the position to his advantage and settled his head on Andrew's chest. "That's way more useful than finding your way out of the woods or whatever it is they do in that cult."

"Mmm."

They lay there, Andrew's heart beating steady and strong and just a little bit fast beneath Kev's ear. Maybe that was what gave Kev the courage, or maybe it was the simple fact that they were cuddling naked on Andrew's childhood bed, and his body felt at peace for the first time in much, much too long, but regardless of the reason, Kev took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Andrew's response resonated through his chest into Kev's ear. It was comforting as hell.

"You know how you said that...well, you found most people boring?"

"Yeah?"

Kev ran his fingers lightly up and down Andrew's bare arm, warming his slightly chilly skin. "So, then...why me? Why do you find me interesting?"

Andrew stilled beneath him, as if he were holding his breath. Kev stopped moving his hand, too, as if he made any noise, he wouldn't catch Andrew's response. He wanted to hear it so bad. He needed to.

"Why?" Andrew finally said, sounding almost surprised. "Kev, you're...you're amazing." He made a move like he wanted to shift them, but Kev pinned him down harder, and Andrew subsided. "You're brilliant, and you have this way of approaching things that is, like... How do I explain it..."

Kev strained to hear every word like it could be snatched away from him at any moment. He was barely even breathing.

"You surprise me. Every day, you say something that is so smart and weird and you see things differently from other people. I don't know. This isn't making any sense. You just...you stand out. To me."

Kev's heart was pounding loud in his chest, echoing Andrew's. He didn't know how to respond, or if he needed to. He had no idea what Andrew was talking about, but if Andrew wanted to believe Kev to be some sort of genius he wanted to kiss and fuck, then he wasn't about to dissuade him. He did the only thing that came to mind in response and kissed Andrew on the chest. He lingered there, against his skin, and inhaled his sleepy scent.

Andrew squeezed Kev's shoulder and dropped a kiss on his head. "Merry Christmas, Kev."

Kev smiled at the non sequitur and then remembered. "Hey, what time is it? Is everyone else awake? How are the kids not pounding on the door?"

"It's, like, five am. Give them half an hour or so."

"Half an hour, huh?"

Andrew pulled back and then Kev did, too, and they stared at each other. Kev didn't know what Andrew saw in his face, but he felt totally dopey and punch-drunk. Andrew was grinning ear to ear. "What, do you have something in mind you'd like to do?"

Kev wiggled his hand beneath the covers and walked his fingers over Andrew's warm belly until he reached his morning wood. He wrapped his hand around it and squeezed, slowly, with promise. "Might have."

"Do tell."

Kev rolled them over.

It was forty five sweaty and satisfying minutes later that the first signs of life made themselves known in the rest of the house. Nobody could mistake the thundering hooves of the monster twins, as well as the warm, spicy smell of cinnamon pancakes wafting through the air. Underneath that, Kev sensed coffee.

"Oh man, that smells good."

"Want to go down?"

"Do we have to?"

"Not yet."

"Then nah."

They lay facing one another. Andrew was tracing his fingers against Kev's bare shoulder, while Kev was studying his face as the darkness of nighttime slowly began to lift. A few minutes ago, as they had rutted against each other, Andrew had taken gentle hold of Kev's wrists and kissed each of them in turn. Instead of wanting to curdle in humiliating agony, Kev had come. It was strange and unexpected and somehow, it was perfect.

"We smell pretty ripe," he noted.

"We'll shower. It's fine."

"I can't believe you don't have your own bathroom. This place is so fancy."

Andrew laughed, then shrugged. "It's an old house. Only my parents have an en suite, and they did that on their own. I mean, you know. Hired people to make it happen."

"I like it," Kev confessed. "I like it here."

Andrew pulled back, his hand stilling against Kev's skin. "Really? You mean that?"

"Of course, man. Why wouldn't I?"

Andrew's dawning smile was something else. "I was really worried about that. I mean, my family are...you know, a lot. And with Uncle Mike..."

"Well, he's not part of the furniture, is he? Besides, I like the rest of them. Mabel seems cool."

Andrew's smile warmed even more. "Yeah? She's the best. She's, like, the coolest."

Kev cracked up. "You're adorable. You're her favorite, in case you didn't know."

"Did she tell you that?"

"She did."

Andrew looked pleased as punch. What a nerd. Kev traced the shape of his smile with a finger. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For...for this. For Christmas. For...everything."

Andrew slowly took hold of Kev's hand and pressed it against his own chest. He was no longer smiling. "I wanted to give you this. I wanted...I wanted so much for you to have a good Christmas. I just...I really wanted you here." He paused, not looking away. "Really want you."

Kev didn't have a good response to that, so he leaned in and kissed him, instead. His mouth now tasted of peppermint, too, and come, and want. When they broke apart, he had one last confession to make. "I didn't get you anything." He felt his face flushing. "I'm sorry. I had no idea what to get you that would be...enough. So I just sort of...didn't."

Andrew pulled back, not letting go of his hand. "I don't want anything, Kev. Just this. Just—us. Is that okay?"

Kev hadn't realized he had been carrying around that weight until the last of it lifted. "Oh yeah." A kiss. "Totally okay." Another kiss.

"Good."

Later, there would be coffee and pancakes and screaming children tearing into presents. Later, there would be something terribly Caucasian like sherry for the adults, and Andrew's Aunt Sandy would pontificate on the nature of religion and Christmas, and Racist Uncle Mike would grumble and hate everything around him, and Aunt Mabel would probably ignore him and play games with the kids. Later there would be a dinner of sage-roasted turkey, a rack of lamb with mint and rosemary, a heaping bowl of roasted potatoes with garlic and thyme, and some stuffing, too—Kev had seen the menu pinned to the fridge. There would be snow fights, and probably some family fights, and there would be coffee and cake and arguments.

Later still, there would be recovery. He knew enough to anticipate more darkness, and more struggles. The scars in his mind would take longer to heal, and who knew what else he'd have to face.

But for now, there was this—just him and Andrew, under Andrew's heavy comforter, lying in between his flannel sheets, touching toes and kissing lightly, with no purpose, just because they could.

For now, there was Christmas.

# Epilogue

"Wait, wait, man, I keep meaning to ask you..."

"What? _Now_? While I'm about to—"

"Yes, now, it's _important_. Hang— _hnghh_ —hang on."

"Oh my God, you're not serious. Kev—"

"Titanic, though. Really?"

"Huh?"

"Leonardo DiCaprio is staring at me. You have a Titanic poster. Why do you like it so much?"

"Because! What, you don't like Titanic? How can you not like Titanic? Everybody loves Titanic."

"Uh, yeah, no."

"But, but...but it's so romantic!"

"What's so romantic about her letting him plop into the ocean, man?"

"That's not the point! She knows she can't save him, and he knows it, too. She never forgets him, though. She loves him forever, you see?"

"Oh my God, you are such a sap, dude."

"Kev."

"What."

"I'm holding your dick in my hand. Are you seriously insulting my tastes when I've got your dick in my hand?"

"All right, I see your point. I just had to ask. I'm sorry that I— _ah, fuck_ —that I was casting aspersions on your taste in cin-cinema."

" _Thank_ you."

"Please carry on with your previous activity... _hngh_. Yeah, like that... Just like that..."

"You sure? Just like that?"

"I—I'm—oh God. Just jerk me like one of your French girls, Jack."

"Kevan!"

"C'mon man, it won't jerk itself."

"You're awful."

"I know."

# Acknowledgments

With many thanks to Katie R. for the lightning fast beta read. Also, huge thanks to Erin for the cheerleading, and to my wife for reading and being as enthusiastic about it as I hoped she would be. Merry Christmas to all, and to all Good Night. Finally, with a profound thank you to Roan Parrish for encouraging this in the first place and asking for a Christmas story in July.

# About Liz Jacobs

Liz Jacobs came over with her family from Russia at the age of 11, as a Jewish refugee. All in all, her life has gotten steadily better since that moment. They settled in an ultra-liberal haven in the middle of New York State, which sort of helped her with the whole "grappling with her sexuality" business.

* * *

She has spent a lot of her time flitting from passion project to passion project, but writing remains her constant. She has flown planes, drawn, made jewelry, had an improbable internet encounter before it was cool, and successfully wooed the love of her life in a military-style campaign. She has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize for her essay on her family's experience with immigration.

* * *

She currently lives with her wife and dog in Massachusetts, splitting her time between her day job, writing, and watching a veritable boatload of British murder mysteries.

* * *

She is represented by Courtney Miller-Callahan of Handspun Literary Agency.

# More By Liz Jacobs

ABROAD: Book One

ABROAD: Book Two
