『𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣』 『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』
𝕊𝕒𝕥: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟞, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~ 𝟘𝟡𝟘𝟘
Christmas felt sore on waking up, the bruises and needle pricks that Sander had clutched around his waist and hips flaring to life before even his mind could. And slightly lower, there was a minor discomfort—the raw feeling of flesh that had been rubbed constantly. It was a pleasant reminder and a present bother.
But none of those sensations compared to the warm weight settled over him in place of the blanket that had been pulled down to his waist sometime in their sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, wanting already to fall back asleep—at least until he finally registered the quiet breaths against his cheek and saw the clean line of Sander’s jaw where the morning sun caught the curve just right, framing a section of hair and cheekbone as well in a thin rim light.
Breathtaking, like living artwork.
He wished the aches and pains had melted away at the sight, but they persisted, albeit with a silver lining: they had worsened because he and Sander had found another way for their bodies to fit together. It wasn’t a bad thing—not when viewed in that light shining on that sleeping face.
He reached out with a bandaged arm, fingers shaking from morning weakness but steady enough to follow the line of light across Sander’s face, ending near the base of the ear.
Sander shifted slight, unconsciously pressing himself toward the touch. Catching the response, Christmas let his hand rest on Sander’s cheek, trying to hold all that warmth for himself while he replayed in his mind the memory that Sander was his boyfriend. Had confirmed it. No misunderstandings. No fears that Sander was simply being nice.
His boyfriend.
”…Are you really…?” Christmas whispered to himself.
The light touch was enough to rouse Sander from his sleep then. The blood mage blinked blearily, stretching languidly and shifting to accommodate the smaller body beneath him. Consciousness slowly dawned though, and Sander looked at Christmas with sleepy eyes, still half-draped over the boy.
“Hi.” -He couldn’t hold back a smile then.
And neither could the timid healer, who found the smile contagious.
”G-good morning.”
As Sander woke up more, memories of last night activities were also slowly coming back. –“Wow.” -He mumbled sheepishly, the smile slowly stretching into a grin –“How are you feeling?”
The blood mage rolled off Christmas then, but he reached over afterward and grabbed the hem of Christmas’ sweater, looking at the boy meaningfully.
”Um…s-sore but…but it feels nice. A-A good sore?” Christmas’s hand now rested on Sander’s bare shoulder and only when Sander moved off did he finally realize his—the word still had to fight for acceptance—boyfriend was entirely naked. A quick rise of heat to his cheeks followed and Christmas shuffled forward, hiding his sightline against Sander’s shoulder. ”…Really good,” he murmured into the skin there.
Sander understood ‘good sore’ as the ache in his muscles after every vigorous working out session, so he figured it wasn’t anything serious. It took some weight off his chest, especially when he had recalled how rough he was last night.
“Thank you.” -He mumbled into Christmas’ hair -”You’re the…best thing that had happened to me in a long while.” -The confession felt stiff on his tongue, like he wasn’t entirely sure Christmas was really his to begin with, but he was grateful anyway, for whatever the blond boy would give.
“Thank you.”
”I…” The words failed him. Christmas didn’t know what it was to be someone’s “best thing.” It made so little sense for him when the feeling was mutual. Sander was his “best thing.” He had expected to be just one more in a series of middling people in Sander’s life—the type that didn’t stand out from every other faceless encounter. That was the role he had accepted in the social pecking order throughout his entire meager existence, and it had taken the shift to USARILN East for him to realize the world was so much more than high school lunch tables and stratified cliques. More than locked doors and barred windows because his mother sometimes feared—irrationally so—that something would take her son away. Or perhaps she was some measure of clairvoyant, because in the end he had taken himself away from that place.
The morning thoughts slipped along tangents he didn’t want to explore, not with Sander so close to him. He breathed in the scent of Sander’s faint cologne instead, surprised that of the many salvaged items the cologne bottle had somehow survived.
That he had somehow survived.
”Y-you’re…my best thing. E-ever,” he tried to explain, but the past stories withered on his tongue and he rested beside Sander silent, preferring instead the moment and wishing for a future that he now dared to want.
And that still puzzled Sander. He couldn’t understand how someone like him could be even likable. He was dangerous. A black mark. He had killed enough people to get several hundred life sentences, and he was killing, here. Just because he could. Just because it was all he really could do. If they had just locked him up, he wouldn’t have minded the slightest. Wasn’t that where beasts were kept? In their cages?
Yet in USARILN, everything was different from his expectation. He was free. Chained, but they let him roam. They let him see Christmas. And the blond boy stayed, despite having been on the receiving end of Sander’s power multiple times. That was too much, and Sander didn’t understand why. But he strove to repay the kindness, nonetheless. He would do everything to make Christmas happy, even when the boy wouldn’t want to be.
So he leaned in and kissed Christmas. The motion was gentle and after a small huff of surprised breath, the blond relaxed into the kiss, giving way to Sander’s whims eagerly. Eventually, though, he needed to sit up, raising himself up on an elbow only to lay back down slowly, wincing at his lower body’s protest.
Sander broke the kiss immediately at the sound of distress, alerted.
“You’re alright?” -He lifted himself off the bed, hovering over Christmas. Lifting a corner of the blond boy’s sweaters revealed the bruises and puncture marks around his waist, agitated by their activities last night. Sander placed a gentle hand over them, as if covering the marks would heal them, somehow.
Christmas only nodded, waiting to move again.
”B-bathroom,” he mumbled, embarrassed.
“Oh.” -Sander mumbled dumbly, before his eyes widened and he lifted his hand -”O-Okay.”
“Do you need help?” -He offered tentatively, sitting up straight.
”I-I can…just…a second,” he winced, lifting himself up properly this time. After testing his legs and finding that only his hips were sore, Christmas hobbled gingerly to the bedroom door, recalling the general instructions Sander had relayed to him yesterday about the bathrooms. ”U-um…b-back soon,” he said, turning around like he thought he couldn’t leave without the notice.
By the time Christmas came stumbling back into the bedroom, Sander had already put on a pair of boxers and a loose shirt, though his hair was still uncharacteristically unkempt. He was lounging on the sofa then, wolfing down on a sandwich that staff had packed into their untouched picnic basket. Noticing Christmas’ presence, the blood mage looked up with a fond smile and a streak of mustard on his cheek, gesturing to the empty spot next to him. Christmas obliged, sitting down slowly and now more comfortable with the idea of casually repeating the motions: sitting close, laying close, always by Sander’s side.
The smile caught him off-guard again and he leaned forward, bolder after the night before. His body still ached gently, but the pain was slow and steady now, so he could ease himself around it one way or another. Now he simply raised himself just enough to kiss Sander’s cheek, licking the bit of mustard away as well. With an embarrassed, but elated smile, he ducked his head and hid beside Sander’s arm, hugging the limb and keeping his small joys to himself. It felt weird to be so happy over being able to do that, but he thought—guessed, probably, maybe—Sander wouldn’t mind.
“Food?” -Sander swallowed another mouthful, patting Christmas’ knee with his free hand. There was several more sandwiches on the table, along with a few small cartons of juice.
With another nod, Christmas picked up the nearest sandwich and bit into it, hungrier than he realized.
As the boy ate, Sander kept running his hand up and down his thigh, watching. Eventually though, his gaze stopped on the patch of bandage. The parts that he fixed the other day was still holding, but there were several loose patches that he would have to rewrap later. He didn’t like seeing wounds on Christmas, Sander had noticed. Red did not fit the boy.
“It’s not fair, you know, when you can heal others and not yourself. You should be able to.”
”I…I don’t mind,” Christmas answered after a bite, the words automatic and without conviction.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
A pause, then the healer nodded, sandwich half-eaten in his hands.
“Then why don’t you mind?”
”Because…because I…I deserve it…? E-Even…even the power is the same.”
“…You don’t deserve pain, Christmas.” -Sander leaned over slightly, pressing their shoulders together -”How could someone like you deserve that? I don’t believe it.”
”But I’m…not nice,” he whispered, not looking up.
“You are.”
Christmas shook his head. ”Not nice. Just…always selfish.”
“That’s hardly wrong. It’s not wrong to…want.”
”…I…I want to have, too…a-all for myself.”
“Then have it. You deserve it.”
The words made his eyes water, the pressure of tears building. What did he deserve? He wanted to be a good person. Wanted to not want—because good people were happy with what they had. They didn’t want more. If he wanted—if he wanted, would he be a bad person?
”What if…I have it and…and I’m…even worse? More selfish and—and want more?”
"Nothing wrong with that."
”…Really?” Because he trusted Sander. More than the world that had told him he was wrong all his life.
"Yeah." -The confirmation came quick and easy.
He took some time to process it, the fact that Sander thought it was okay. The sandwich was growing cold in his hands and he resumed eating automatically, not wanting to waste the toasted warmth. The process was mechanical. Just following the motions of eating, chewing, and swallowing while his mind waged its private war against the beliefs he had internalized because he knew no other way to make sense of himself.
It was a hard fought battle, but Sander beside him carried him through.
By the time he finished the sandwich, he at least had found one small conviction, though the rest remained deadlocked.
”…I want to…heal myself, too.”
Even saying it made his moral compass panic, but he leaned against Sander and closed his eyes, trying not to apologize for wanting, because this at least, he wanted to believe was okay.
The field stretched as far as the eye could see, waves of sun-bleached summer grass brushing against his hips as he stood and waited for—for someone. Something. He couldn’t quite understand how he knew, but the empty swing beside him was now occupied by a figure wearing a red ribbon around its left wrist. Featureless and translucent, it stared at him, the pale imitation of Sander’s form fading at the outlines, like it couldn’t stand to be corporeal.
The wind from before had died down now and thin shafts of light stitched the clouds in golden orange lines. One ray of light hung like a sparkling thread of sun, its vertical line touching down into grass and dirt in the far distance.
The figure looked towards the line of shimmering gold. Christmas did, too.
He blinked, feeling Sander’s arm beside his temple, the smell of grass and soil fading as suddenly as the vision had come.
And he knew something was different from the small tingling throughout his body and that pure instinct with knowledge accessed from somewhere or something beyond him. His body was healing itself. Slowly, glacially. But it was healing.
He looked up at Sander, eyes wide.
Sander blinked, returning the wide-eyed gaze with a confused look.
Christmas sat up straight, pulling up his sweater sleeve and unwrapping the bandages on his left arm, knowing already what he would see.
The lighter bruises and puncture marks had faded to simply reddened skin. Deeper piercings from the needles were no longer throbbing and within the hour he knew those, too, would be gone. He looked to Sander again, still the same gaze, eyes near circles in surprise.
Sander took the unwrapped hand in his, holding the smaller hand close as he frowned down at it, unable to believe his eyes.
“W-What?” -He gaped, unhelpfully, thumb brushing the reddened skin where a puncture mark once was -”Why? Are you…?”
Powers didn’t work like that. Dreamcatchers didn’t work like that. They didn’t just give power just because you asked nicely. It just…didn’t work like that. But beneath all that confusion, Sander was grateful, if anything. Christmas healed. Christmas was well, and he was not in pain. Maybe the how and the why didn’t matter that much.
He lifted the hand to his lips, pressing kisses onto the tender skin. Yeah, maybe it didn’t really matter at all.
Christmas didn’t understand it either, because he had wanted to heal himself before and yet nothing had been so generous then. But before he could ask himself “Why?” that tiny haven where he was collected and aware and here had already supplied the answer, one he knew but never admitted to. Wanting to want, and then wanting to have, regardless of the “wrong”s and “right”s he had grown up with. One small step, and Sander had led him there.
He moved the hand away from Sander’s mouth, instead lacing their fingers together.
”Thank you,” he whispered to the clasped hands, tucking himself back into place beside Sander. ”Thank you.”
“You did it.” -Sander smiled, mimicking the words that Christmas had given him before -”I didn’t do anything.”
”N-no…you did everything,” the blond replied, still clinging tight to Sander’s arm. He found the words carefully, like examining the edges of puzzle pieces. ”It was for you.”
Sander gave a light laugh at that, the sound so soft and content and happy he had a hard time believing it was his. Without another word, he threw one hand over Christmas’ shoulders and pulled the blond boy close, relishing in the warmth against his chest. Safe in Sander’s arms, Christmas wondered if he could find the strength to want more and the lack of selfishness in that surprised him. Want to want and want to have, but not for himself. For Sander. In a far corner of his mind, he thought something sparked to life, like he could dare to be better than himself. It was far in the distance, but so bright. Against Sander’s chest, Christmas’ hand clutched the shirt a bit tighter.
But none of those sensations compared to the warm weight settled over him in place of the blanket that had been pulled down to his waist sometime in their sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, wanting already to fall back asleep—at least until he finally registered the quiet breaths against his cheek and saw the clean line of Sander’s jaw where the morning sun caught the curve just right, framing a section of hair and cheekbone as well in a thin rim light.
Breathtaking, like living artwork.
He wished the aches and pains had melted away at the sight, but they persisted, albeit with a silver lining: they had worsened because he and Sander had found another way for their bodies to fit together. It wasn’t a bad thing—not when viewed in that light shining on that sleeping face.
He reached out with a bandaged arm, fingers shaking from morning weakness but steady enough to follow the line of light across Sander’s face, ending near the base of the ear.
Sander shifted slight, unconsciously pressing himself toward the touch. Catching the response, Christmas let his hand rest on Sander’s cheek, trying to hold all that warmth for himself while he replayed in his mind the memory that Sander was his boyfriend. Had confirmed it. No misunderstandings. No fears that Sander was simply being nice.
His boyfriend.
”…Are you really…?” Christmas whispered to himself.
The light touch was enough to rouse Sander from his sleep then. The blood mage blinked blearily, stretching languidly and shifting to accommodate the smaller body beneath him. Consciousness slowly dawned though, and Sander looked at Christmas with sleepy eyes, still half-draped over the boy.
“Hi.” -He couldn’t hold back a smile then.
And neither could the timid healer, who found the smile contagious.
”G-good morning.”
As Sander woke up more, memories of last night activities were also slowly coming back. –“Wow.” -He mumbled sheepishly, the smile slowly stretching into a grin –“How are you feeling?”
The blood mage rolled off Christmas then, but he reached over afterward and grabbed the hem of Christmas’ sweater, looking at the boy meaningfully.
”Um…s-sore but…but it feels nice. A-A good sore?” Christmas’s hand now rested on Sander’s bare shoulder and only when Sander moved off did he finally realize his—the word still had to fight for acceptance—boyfriend was entirely naked. A quick rise of heat to his cheeks followed and Christmas shuffled forward, hiding his sightline against Sander’s shoulder. ”…Really good,” he murmured into the skin there.
Sander understood ‘good sore’ as the ache in his muscles after every vigorous working out session, so he figured it wasn’t anything serious. It took some weight off his chest, especially when he had recalled how rough he was last night.
“Thank you.” -He mumbled into Christmas’ hair -”You’re the…best thing that had happened to me in a long while.” -The confession felt stiff on his tongue, like he wasn’t entirely sure Christmas was really his to begin with, but he was grateful anyway, for whatever the blond boy would give.
“Thank you.”
”I…” The words failed him. Christmas didn’t know what it was to be someone’s “best thing.” It made so little sense for him when the feeling was mutual. Sander was his “best thing.” He had expected to be just one more in a series of middling people in Sander’s life—the type that didn’t stand out from every other faceless encounter. That was the role he had accepted in the social pecking order throughout his entire meager existence, and it had taken the shift to USARILN East for him to realize the world was so much more than high school lunch tables and stratified cliques. More than locked doors and barred windows because his mother sometimes feared—irrationally so—that something would take her son away. Or perhaps she was some measure of clairvoyant, because in the end he had taken himself away from that place.
The morning thoughts slipped along tangents he didn’t want to explore, not with Sander so close to him. He breathed in the scent of Sander’s faint cologne instead, surprised that of the many salvaged items the cologne bottle had somehow survived.
That he had somehow survived.
”Y-you’re…my best thing. E-ever,” he tried to explain, but the past stories withered on his tongue and he rested beside Sander silent, preferring instead the moment and wishing for a future that he now dared to want.
And that still puzzled Sander. He couldn’t understand how someone like him could be even likable. He was dangerous. A black mark. He had killed enough people to get several hundred life sentences, and he was killing, here. Just because he could. Just because it was all he really could do. If they had just locked him up, he wouldn’t have minded the slightest. Wasn’t that where beasts were kept? In their cages?
Yet in USARILN, everything was different from his expectation. He was free. Chained, but they let him roam. They let him see Christmas. And the blond boy stayed, despite having been on the receiving end of Sander’s power multiple times. That was too much, and Sander didn’t understand why. But he strove to repay the kindness, nonetheless. He would do everything to make Christmas happy, even when the boy wouldn’t want to be.
So he leaned in and kissed Christmas. The motion was gentle and after a small huff of surprised breath, the blond relaxed into the kiss, giving way to Sander’s whims eagerly. Eventually, though, he needed to sit up, raising himself up on an elbow only to lay back down slowly, wincing at his lower body’s protest.
Sander broke the kiss immediately at the sound of distress, alerted.
“You’re alright?” -He lifted himself off the bed, hovering over Christmas. Lifting a corner of the blond boy’s sweaters revealed the bruises and puncture marks around his waist, agitated by their activities last night. Sander placed a gentle hand over them, as if covering the marks would heal them, somehow.
Christmas only nodded, waiting to move again.
”B-bathroom,” he mumbled, embarrassed.
“Oh.” -Sander mumbled dumbly, before his eyes widened and he lifted his hand -”O-Okay.”
“Do you need help?” -He offered tentatively, sitting up straight.
”I-I can…just…a second,” he winced, lifting himself up properly this time. After testing his legs and finding that only his hips were sore, Christmas hobbled gingerly to the bedroom door, recalling the general instructions Sander had relayed to him yesterday about the bathrooms. ”U-um…b-back soon,” he said, turning around like he thought he couldn’t leave without the notice.
By the time Christmas came stumbling back into the bedroom, Sander had already put on a pair of boxers and a loose shirt, though his hair was still uncharacteristically unkempt. He was lounging on the sofa then, wolfing down on a sandwich that staff had packed into their untouched picnic basket. Noticing Christmas’ presence, the blood mage looked up with a fond smile and a streak of mustard on his cheek, gesturing to the empty spot next to him. Christmas obliged, sitting down slowly and now more comfortable with the idea of casually repeating the motions: sitting close, laying close, always by Sander’s side.
The smile caught him off-guard again and he leaned forward, bolder after the night before. His body still ached gently, but the pain was slow and steady now, so he could ease himself around it one way or another. Now he simply raised himself just enough to kiss Sander’s cheek, licking the bit of mustard away as well. With an embarrassed, but elated smile, he ducked his head and hid beside Sander’s arm, hugging the limb and keeping his small joys to himself. It felt weird to be so happy over being able to do that, but he thought—guessed, probably, maybe—Sander wouldn’t mind.
“Food?” -Sander swallowed another mouthful, patting Christmas’ knee with his free hand. There was several more sandwiches on the table, along with a few small cartons of juice.
With another nod, Christmas picked up the nearest sandwich and bit into it, hungrier than he realized.
As the boy ate, Sander kept running his hand up and down his thigh, watching. Eventually though, his gaze stopped on the patch of bandage. The parts that he fixed the other day was still holding, but there were several loose patches that he would have to rewrap later. He didn’t like seeing wounds on Christmas, Sander had noticed. Red did not fit the boy.
“It’s not fair, you know, when you can heal others and not yourself. You should be able to.”
”I…I don’t mind,” Christmas answered after a bite, the words automatic and without conviction.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
A pause, then the healer nodded, sandwich half-eaten in his hands.
“Then why don’t you mind?”
”Because…because I…I deserve it…? E-Even…even the power is the same.”
“…You don’t deserve pain, Christmas.” -Sander leaned over slightly, pressing their shoulders together -”How could someone like you deserve that? I don’t believe it.”
”But I’m…not nice,” he whispered, not looking up.
“You are.”
Christmas shook his head. ”Not nice. Just…always selfish.”
“That’s hardly wrong. It’s not wrong to…want.”
”…I…I want to have, too…a-all for myself.”
“Then have it. You deserve it.”
The words made his eyes water, the pressure of tears building. What did he deserve? He wanted to be a good person. Wanted to not want—because good people were happy with what they had. They didn’t want more. If he wanted—if he wanted, would he be a bad person?
”What if…I have it and…and I’m…even worse? More selfish and—and want more?”
"Nothing wrong with that."
”…Really?” Because he trusted Sander. More than the world that had told him he was wrong all his life.
"Yeah." -The confirmation came quick and easy.
He took some time to process it, the fact that Sander thought it was okay. The sandwich was growing cold in his hands and he resumed eating automatically, not wanting to waste the toasted warmth. The process was mechanical. Just following the motions of eating, chewing, and swallowing while his mind waged its private war against the beliefs he had internalized because he knew no other way to make sense of himself.
It was a hard fought battle, but Sander beside him carried him through.
By the time he finished the sandwich, he at least had found one small conviction, though the rest remained deadlocked.
”…I want to…heal myself, too.”
Even saying it made his moral compass panic, but he leaned against Sander and closed his eyes, trying not to apologize for wanting, because this at least, he wanted to believe was okay.
The field stretched as far as the eye could see, waves of sun-bleached summer grass brushing against his hips as he stood and waited for—for someone. Something. He couldn’t quite understand how he knew, but the empty swing beside him was now occupied by a figure wearing a red ribbon around its left wrist. Featureless and translucent, it stared at him, the pale imitation of Sander’s form fading at the outlines, like it couldn’t stand to be corporeal.
The wind from before had died down now and thin shafts of light stitched the clouds in golden orange lines. One ray of light hung like a sparkling thread of sun, its vertical line touching down into grass and dirt in the far distance.
The figure looked towards the line of shimmering gold. Christmas did, too.
He blinked, feeling Sander’s arm beside his temple, the smell of grass and soil fading as suddenly as the vision had come.
And he knew something was different from the small tingling throughout his body and that pure instinct with knowledge accessed from somewhere or something beyond him. His body was healing itself. Slowly, glacially. But it was healing.
He looked up at Sander, eyes wide.
Sander blinked, returning the wide-eyed gaze with a confused look.
Christmas sat up straight, pulling up his sweater sleeve and unwrapping the bandages on his left arm, knowing already what he would see.
The lighter bruises and puncture marks had faded to simply reddened skin. Deeper piercings from the needles were no longer throbbing and within the hour he knew those, too, would be gone. He looked to Sander again, still the same gaze, eyes near circles in surprise.
Sander took the unwrapped hand in his, holding the smaller hand close as he frowned down at it, unable to believe his eyes.
“W-What?” -He gaped, unhelpfully, thumb brushing the reddened skin where a puncture mark once was -”Why? Are you…?”
Powers didn’t work like that. Dreamcatchers didn’t work like that. They didn’t just give power just because you asked nicely. It just…didn’t work like that. But beneath all that confusion, Sander was grateful, if anything. Christmas healed. Christmas was well, and he was not in pain. Maybe the how and the why didn’t matter that much.
He lifted the hand to his lips, pressing kisses onto the tender skin. Yeah, maybe it didn’t really matter at all.
Christmas didn’t understand it either, because he had wanted to heal himself before and yet nothing had been so generous then. But before he could ask himself “Why?” that tiny haven where he was collected and aware and here had already supplied the answer, one he knew but never admitted to. Wanting to want, and then wanting to have, regardless of the “wrong”s and “right”s he had grown up with. One small step, and Sander had led him there.
He moved the hand away from Sander’s mouth, instead lacing their fingers together.
”Thank you,” he whispered to the clasped hands, tucking himself back into place beside Sander. ”Thank you.”
“You did it.” -Sander smiled, mimicking the words that Christmas had given him before -”I didn’t do anything.”
”N-no…you did everything,” the blond replied, still clinging tight to Sander’s arm. He found the words carefully, like examining the edges of puzzle pieces. ”It was for you.”
Sander gave a light laugh at that, the sound so soft and content and happy he had a hard time believing it was his. Without another word, he threw one hand over Christmas’ shoulders and pulled the blond boy close, relishing in the warmth against his chest. Safe in Sander’s arms, Christmas wondered if he could find the strength to want more and the lack of selfishness in that surprised him. Want to want and want to have, but not for himself. For Sander. In a far corner of his mind, he thought something sparked to life, like he could dare to be better than himself. It was far in the distance, but so bright. Against Sander’s chest, Christmas’ hand clutched the shirt a bit tighter.
𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕣: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~ 𝟘𝟡𝟘𝟘
Christmas held a knife in one hand and a roll of paper towels in another, sitting cross-legged on a patch of fallen leaves and twigs in the forest that surrounded the mansion’s clearing. He wore clothes he wouldn’t miss, though the feeling applied to most of his wardrobe; a simple blue sweater and long, dark pants, the sleeves and legs of which had been rolled up to elbows and knees.
Sander had left early in the morning for a jog, which left Christmas to his own devices after waking up naked once more. After the first time together, Sander had admitted to enjoying the activity and so they had established something of a new habit. Unsure of how long it would last, Christmas had resolved to make the most of the newfound passion, even if he still worried that Sander would eventually find him an irredeemable bore.
But that wasn’t what worried him at the moment. With the discomfort of uneven ground under him, Christmas was reminded that he had snuck off to the woods with a knife because he wanted to know exactly how long it took his newfound power to heal him. The needle pricks had entirely disappeared now, and he had been far too distracted with certain events to think about them.
Now, he breathed in deep, trying to calm himself as he inched the knife’s edge towards the back of his hand, remembering Sander’s words to cut on the outside so it would hurt less.
A tiny nick made his eyes water, but he stared at the thin line of red that appeared, then disappeared within minutes.
It was morbidly fascinating and the pain didn’t linger long either.
Again he tried it, watching red appear and disappear within minutes leaving nothing but the fading sting of tears behind.
He steeled himself again, cutting a bit longer and deeper now, swiping quickly with the red-rimmed edge before he could wimp out. He dropped the knife in the flash of pain that followed afterwards, whimpering and clutching the open gash to his stomach as he doubled over and waited for the heal to come.
It took too long for him, even for something as light as that cut. Five minutes felt like 30 and by the time the wound had fully healed he was sniffling from the tears, excitement over his power already gone. The magic would heal, but its progress was painfully slow. Droplets of blood stained his sweater and pants, with more dripping to the ground below and Christmas decided that would be enough experimentation for the day. He wasn’t sure he could try anything more serious than a light cut anyway.
Sander returned to an empty room after his morning jog. For the longest time, he stood at the threshold of their room, sniffing the air like a needy dog for Christmas’ scent, only to be disappointed. Christmas was gone. Mild panic broke out, twisting his guts, so he left and went looking for the blond boy. Scents after scents floated past him, and Sander did not stop running until he found the right one.
It didn’t take long for him to locate Christmas afterward, following the coffee aroma into the woods and catching sight of the healer’s blonde hair. The healer had flinched at the approach, but relaxed when he realized it was Sander, though his expression also looked a bit like a child caught doing something naughty.
Sighing in relief, Sander plopped down next to Christmas on the ground, eyes narrowing at the remnants of blood on the ground and the healer’s shirt. Old, though. No wound.
“…Are you testing it?”
Christmas nodded, rubbing at a red smear on the back of his hand where a cut had been.
”I thought…it would be okay.”
“Was it okay?” -Sander reached out for Christmas’ hand, touching the red smear tentatively.
”It’s…slow. Like me.”
“I don’t mind.” -With blood out in the open and so close, Sander didn’t dare to do what he wanted. Instead, he just held Christmas’ hand in his, rubbing at the flakes of drying blood -”Did you…do it on the back of your hand?”
”D-did you want some?” was the response, the healer guessing more or less correctly at the reason behind the way Sander’s eyes trailed after the patches of blood on his sweater and hand.
“No.” -That was a lie. The only one Sander would ever say to Christmas, but he felt that it was justified. The blond boy would always give too much, and think too little about it. Sander couldn’t let him do that to himself -”I’m fine.”
But Christmas didn’t miss the way the Adam’s apple bobbed as Sander swallowed, the way the mage’s eyes jittered between the bloodstains and his face. It wasn’t the Sander who had looked haggard and starved in the hospital, but the vestige was there.
”I don’t mind.”
“I do.” -Sander sighed, repeating the words as if on cue. It felt like an old argument between them, where both would give and neither would take.
”Why?”
“This…is addiction.” -Sander gestured at the mark on his throat, breaking eye contact -”I don’t want to feed it.”
”Does that mean…if you like something a lot…you—you won’t…take it?” Christmas looked guarded, shoulders tense like he had already heard a bad answer.
“…In moderation.” -Sander mumbled his answer. He couldn’t bring himself to lie this time.
”…If…if you like me a lot…would you…mind that, too?” The question was quiet, and Christmas looked down at the ground, arms limp and shoulders sagging.
“You’re different. Not…like the blood. I like you because I just…do. Not because the mark told me to.”
His hand squeezed Sander’s and Christmas sighed, relaxing briefly.
”Because I like you…I-I don’t mind if you want to…take…in moderation,” he repeated the qualifier, thumbing the back of Sander’s hand as he spoke, the motion sliding skin against skin in what was quickly becoming a soothing remedy for his fears.
“Thank you. That means…a lot.” -Sander relaxed as well, letting the tension bleed out from his shoulders -”But…it’s hard to hold back…when I’m with you.”
“So I don’t really mind if you think I’m…too much.”
”You can—you can have as much as you like. Don’t…don’t need to ask me if it’s you.”
“That’s dangerous.” -Sander grimaced, but he leaned his head on Christmas’ shoulder, their difference in height making the gesture awkward -”I’m dangerous.”
”I know.” But Christmas wrapped his arms around Sander’s neck anyway, pressing his cheek to Sander’s temple. ”I don’t mind.”
"Too good for me."
”Y-you’re the one who’s too good…” Christmas sighed into the soft strands of Sander’s hair, unable to reconcile what was so good about him with the version in Sander’s mind, but he set the comment aside for another time. ”It’s okay if—if you don’t worry so much about…taking blood. I, um, I trust you. You…can trust yourself, too, maybe?”
"I…will try." -Sander pressed his lips together in a thin line -"Didn't work before."
Old words came to mind, seeping back from a day when Christmas had been scolded by the karate instructor for failing to successfully grasp any of the fundamentals despite a month of biweekly classes. They were Alan’s words, but he had taken them to heart, even if they had both known then that Christmas would never be proficient in martial arts to any appreciable degree.
” ‘Sometimes…it’s okay to fail,’ ” he murmured in repetition of a wiser person’s advice. ” ‘And then you can…choose: keep trying or…stop. One can still—still succeed. The other…the other ends.’ “
His arms around Sander’s shoulders tightened.
”…S-Someone told me that. I…I’ll keep trying too. F-for you,” he said, voice petering off as he leaned lightly into Sander, so that they both rested on one another’s shoulders. His thoughts were swerving onto tangents and worries and nostalgia and he wanted in the midst of it the security of Sander’s feelings for him. And, most of all, Sander himself.
”I think I…I could say I’m ‘addicted’ to you, if…if that makes sense.”
“I’m a bad thing to be addicted to.”
”I don’t mind.” Christmas shifted his cheek against Sander’s, the gentle friction of skin against skin tingling pleasantly. ”I’m…not—not sure about ‘bad’ and ‘good.’ I just…w-want to stay with you.”
“Even if…you don’t really know me?”
”I trust you.”
Sander opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but eventually, he let his jaws click shut. There was no point. Christmas’ trust was unconditional, terrible as it was in a situation like this, and Sander couldn’t really do anything to change that.
It scared him, when someone put so much trust on him like this, because he didn’t really think he could meet their expectations. Didn’t really think he could trust himself. He got better, yes, but what if? His power lurked, still, and he could still lose everything so easily.
“I don’t trust me.” -He admitted.
”Th-then…even if something happened…I—I wouldn’t hold it against you. N-never. Promise.”
“It’s…” -Sander breathed, as if steeling himself -”It’s not always the power.”
“Sometimes I…killed because I…could.” -He turned his head sharply to the side, hiding his face -”I killed a lot. Much more than you think.”
Christmas had heard a portion of the confession before—had already understood what it meant. He was a coward and a fool, but this much he didn’t need help comprehending. It was true that the world at large was too violent for anyone like him to survive long, and the thought that Sander had killed for the sake of it seemed to align too well with what television wanted the public to think of Aberrations. Rightly, he should have been appalled at the notion of murder.
But he remembered the pressure of a warm body against his palms and the shove that had come too easily to him.
He should have been appalled, but he didn’t think he minded so much. He had seen it, the horrors of Washington on the news. The callous disregard for the actual people and the insane fervor that the internet had taken to just to name the new spectacles.
One way or another, he was a monster with the rest of them. So he didn’t think he minded as much as he wanted to.
”Okay,” he replied, the acceptance simple. His hold on Sander didn’t relax and he pressed his face again to the turned jaw. ”I don’t mind.”
“I’ll kill again.” -Sander’s voice was suddenly shaky, the complete honesty in Christmas’ answer rubbed him raw. He expected fear and disgust; he would have been fine with it. Acceptance was just….too much. He didn’t know what to do with it -”I did. At Wisford.”
”Okay.” Because Christmas didn’t protest it. Didn’t question the inevitability of it, even if the future scared him with how vast its possibilities spread. Death was always a guarantee. He nodded, then repeated, ”Okay.”
This was awful, Sander thought, and he went ahead and said it too -”This is awful.” -Because Christmas shouldn’t have to be okay with this. Maybe it would have been better if he just…didn’t leave the Facility at all. Stayed where he belonged.
The words tightened knots in Christmas’s shoulders. ”A-Awful?” He let go, looking like he had been scolded. ”S-sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. -Sander explained quickly, reaching out for Christmas again because the loss of warmth was more than he could take -”You shouldn’t have to be okay with it. Shouldn’t have to stay with someone like me.”
“But you are, anyway. And I can’t really let you go.”
”You—you said it was…my choice. I…I’m choosing.” The healer tried to explain a comment made too long ago and too far removed from the circumstances. But he had taken it to heart. He rested his hands on Sander’s arms, leaning into the heat of the taller boy’s chest. Compassion and ruthlessness all in one—but deep down he supposed he had always known from his first meeting with blue eyes, then the terror of red against moonlight. ”I’m here.”
“You are.” -Sander gave the healer’s shoulders a squeeze, sighing as he finally decided to drop the topic and move onto to something else -”Did it hurt a lot?”
“Huh?”
“Your hand.”
”A-A little bit…a lot…” Christmas mumbled, unsure if the sudden change in topic meant anything serious.
“Just…do it on the outside. Maybe your forearm? It hurts less on the forearm.”
”H-have you tried it?” The healer blinked up at Sander, already expecting a morbid answer.
“I…My power doesn’t heal that way.” -Sander quirked an eyebrow, confused by the wording of the question -”No…I never cut myself.”
”Oh…then—then how do you know?”
“They cut me.”
”…They…?”
“The people at the…facilities.” -Sander kept his face blank as a host of unpleasant memories assaulted his conscious. But that was a long time ago. He deserved it anyway.
”Wh-Why?”
“I don’t know.” -Sander shrugged -”To see what I can do, I guess.”
Christmas opened, then closed his mouth, the slow realization seeping into his thoughts. Atrocities. It was different from mentally pardoning Sander, because this was agony inflicted upon the blood mage. He didn’t like it, the mere thought of “people at the facilities” cutting Sander open and apart. He held the arms tight, panic coating his face.
”I’m-I’m sorry,” he stammered, watching Sander’s expression darken at the topic.
“What for?” -Sander just ruffled golden hair, a tight smile lightning up his features, but it was more for Christmas’ sake if anything -”You didn’t put me there. I put me there.”
”H-huh?”
“What I did. I had to stay there.”
”What you did…?”
“I killed people.” -But that answer was insufficient, and Sander knew it. Christmas deserved the truth. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. At least, not the ones he wanted to -”I…I’ll tell some day.”- He mumbled, shamed. Because he wasn’t brave enough.
”Okay,” Christmas breathed, relieved that the moment had passed without incident. He moved into a tighter hug, breathing in the tartness of Sander’s green apple shampoo and hoping against hope that he’d keep surviving whatever was to come.
“You’re wonderful.”
”N-not really. You—you are, though.”
“I’d argue with you on that.” -Sander’s tone was suddenly light and playful.
”But it’s true,” the blond protested, voicing his disagreement into Sander’s chest.
“Not true.”
”True.”
With a sudden lurch forward, Sander pushed both himself and Christmas onto the dry leaves and twigs below, the blood mage’s arms cradled protectively around the smaller boy’s body. Just like that, Sander hovered above the blond boy, blue eyes bright from the fond smile on his lips.
“Not true.”
The impact knocked a bit of the wind from Christmas, even with Sander cradling him, and the boy gasped for breath for a moment before moving his hands to Sander’s face, cradling taller boy’s jaw.
”…True,” he repeated.
“Not true.” -Sander grimaced, before trying one more time -”Please?”
”You’re wonderful,” the blond repeated with a small laugh that he quickly banished with a quick clear of his throat.
With no option left, Sander leaned down and pulled Christmas into a kiss. It was passionate, open-mouthed and dirty with the full intention to tease a reaction out of the healer. As if feeling that just the kiss wasn’t enough, Sander pressed the full length of his body onto Christmas, pinning both of the healer’s arms above his head.
Christmas squirmed, finding it incredibly unfair for Sander to win the argument that way, but the motions were half-hearted. He enjoyed it, the surprise of it all, and when the initial fluttering of his heart had finally calmed down, he was warm underneath Sander’s body. As heat crept up the smaller boy’s shoulders, Sander got what he wanted—Christmas, flushed and panting as the kiss ended, lips reddened from where Sander had pressed his own repeatedly against them.
”S-See?” the small boy stammered in a rare moment of audacity, ”Wonderful.”
"You should see yourself right now. -Sander mumbled, lost -My best thing...”
At that Christmas laughed, the sounds soft and quiet, but he didn’t cough it away. Out of habit, his hands wanted to cover his mouth, but he ended up no match for Sander’s strength.
”I don’t…really understand it,” he admitted, ”why you…why you think that so much but…I think that you’re—you’re my best thing, t-too.”
"We both don't get it, huh?"
”…I don’t mind that.”
“This is awful.” -Sander complained, but the bright smile on his face betrayed his happiness -”But I guess I don’t mind, too.”
As the words left him, he leaned down, pressing another kiss onto Christmas’ lips.
Sander had left early in the morning for a jog, which left Christmas to his own devices after waking up naked once more. After the first time together, Sander had admitted to enjoying the activity and so they had established something of a new habit. Unsure of how long it would last, Christmas had resolved to make the most of the newfound passion, even if he still worried that Sander would eventually find him an irredeemable bore.
But that wasn’t what worried him at the moment. With the discomfort of uneven ground under him, Christmas was reminded that he had snuck off to the woods with a knife because he wanted to know exactly how long it took his newfound power to heal him. The needle pricks had entirely disappeared now, and he had been far too distracted with certain events to think about them.
Now, he breathed in deep, trying to calm himself as he inched the knife’s edge towards the back of his hand, remembering Sander’s words to cut on the outside so it would hurt less.
A tiny nick made his eyes water, but he stared at the thin line of red that appeared, then disappeared within minutes.
It was morbidly fascinating and the pain didn’t linger long either.
Again he tried it, watching red appear and disappear within minutes leaving nothing but the fading sting of tears behind.
He steeled himself again, cutting a bit longer and deeper now, swiping quickly with the red-rimmed edge before he could wimp out. He dropped the knife in the flash of pain that followed afterwards, whimpering and clutching the open gash to his stomach as he doubled over and waited for the heal to come.
It took too long for him, even for something as light as that cut. Five minutes felt like 30 and by the time the wound had fully healed he was sniffling from the tears, excitement over his power already gone. The magic would heal, but its progress was painfully slow. Droplets of blood stained his sweater and pants, with more dripping to the ground below and Christmas decided that would be enough experimentation for the day. He wasn’t sure he could try anything more serious than a light cut anyway.
Sander returned to an empty room after his morning jog. For the longest time, he stood at the threshold of their room, sniffing the air like a needy dog for Christmas’ scent, only to be disappointed. Christmas was gone. Mild panic broke out, twisting his guts, so he left and went looking for the blond boy. Scents after scents floated past him, and Sander did not stop running until he found the right one.
It didn’t take long for him to locate Christmas afterward, following the coffee aroma into the woods and catching sight of the healer’s blonde hair. The healer had flinched at the approach, but relaxed when he realized it was Sander, though his expression also looked a bit like a child caught doing something naughty.
Sighing in relief, Sander plopped down next to Christmas on the ground, eyes narrowing at the remnants of blood on the ground and the healer’s shirt. Old, though. No wound.
“…Are you testing it?”
Christmas nodded, rubbing at a red smear on the back of his hand where a cut had been.
”I thought…it would be okay.”
“Was it okay?” -Sander reached out for Christmas’ hand, touching the red smear tentatively.
”It’s…slow. Like me.”
“I don’t mind.” -With blood out in the open and so close, Sander didn’t dare to do what he wanted. Instead, he just held Christmas’ hand in his, rubbing at the flakes of drying blood -”Did you…do it on the back of your hand?”
”D-did you want some?” was the response, the healer guessing more or less correctly at the reason behind the way Sander’s eyes trailed after the patches of blood on his sweater and hand.
“No.” -That was a lie. The only one Sander would ever say to Christmas, but he felt that it was justified. The blond boy would always give too much, and think too little about it. Sander couldn’t let him do that to himself -”I’m fine.”
But Christmas didn’t miss the way the Adam’s apple bobbed as Sander swallowed, the way the mage’s eyes jittered between the bloodstains and his face. It wasn’t the Sander who had looked haggard and starved in the hospital, but the vestige was there.
”I don’t mind.”
“I do.” -Sander sighed, repeating the words as if on cue. It felt like an old argument between them, where both would give and neither would take.
”Why?”
“This…is addiction.” -Sander gestured at the mark on his throat, breaking eye contact -”I don’t want to feed it.”
”Does that mean…if you like something a lot…you—you won’t…take it?” Christmas looked guarded, shoulders tense like he had already heard a bad answer.
“…In moderation.” -Sander mumbled his answer. He couldn’t bring himself to lie this time.
”…If…if you like me a lot…would you…mind that, too?” The question was quiet, and Christmas looked down at the ground, arms limp and shoulders sagging.
“You’re different. Not…like the blood. I like you because I just…do. Not because the mark told me to.”
His hand squeezed Sander’s and Christmas sighed, relaxing briefly.
”Because I like you…I-I don’t mind if you want to…take…in moderation,” he repeated the qualifier, thumbing the back of Sander’s hand as he spoke, the motion sliding skin against skin in what was quickly becoming a soothing remedy for his fears.
“Thank you. That means…a lot.” -Sander relaxed as well, letting the tension bleed out from his shoulders -”But…it’s hard to hold back…when I’m with you.”
“So I don’t really mind if you think I’m…too much.”
”You can—you can have as much as you like. Don’t…don’t need to ask me if it’s you.”
“That’s dangerous.” -Sander grimaced, but he leaned his head on Christmas’ shoulder, their difference in height making the gesture awkward -”I’m dangerous.”
”I know.” But Christmas wrapped his arms around Sander’s neck anyway, pressing his cheek to Sander’s temple. ”I don’t mind.”
"Too good for me."
”Y-you’re the one who’s too good…” Christmas sighed into the soft strands of Sander’s hair, unable to reconcile what was so good about him with the version in Sander’s mind, but he set the comment aside for another time. ”It’s okay if—if you don’t worry so much about…taking blood. I, um, I trust you. You…can trust yourself, too, maybe?”
"I…will try." -Sander pressed his lips together in a thin line -"Didn't work before."
Old words came to mind, seeping back from a day when Christmas had been scolded by the karate instructor for failing to successfully grasp any of the fundamentals despite a month of biweekly classes. They were Alan’s words, but he had taken them to heart, even if they had both known then that Christmas would never be proficient in martial arts to any appreciable degree.
” ‘Sometimes…it’s okay to fail,’ ” he murmured in repetition of a wiser person’s advice. ” ‘And then you can…choose: keep trying or…stop. One can still—still succeed. The other…the other ends.’ “
His arms around Sander’s shoulders tightened.
”…S-Someone told me that. I…I’ll keep trying too. F-for you,” he said, voice petering off as he leaned lightly into Sander, so that they both rested on one another’s shoulders. His thoughts were swerving onto tangents and worries and nostalgia and he wanted in the midst of it the security of Sander’s feelings for him. And, most of all, Sander himself.
”I think I…I could say I’m ‘addicted’ to you, if…if that makes sense.”
“I’m a bad thing to be addicted to.”
”I don’t mind.” Christmas shifted his cheek against Sander’s, the gentle friction of skin against skin tingling pleasantly. ”I’m…not—not sure about ‘bad’ and ‘good.’ I just…w-want to stay with you.”
“Even if…you don’t really know me?”
”I trust you.”
Sander opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but eventually, he let his jaws click shut. There was no point. Christmas’ trust was unconditional, terrible as it was in a situation like this, and Sander couldn’t really do anything to change that.
It scared him, when someone put so much trust on him like this, because he didn’t really think he could meet their expectations. Didn’t really think he could trust himself. He got better, yes, but what if? His power lurked, still, and he could still lose everything so easily.
“I don’t trust me.” -He admitted.
”Th-then…even if something happened…I—I wouldn’t hold it against you. N-never. Promise.”
“It’s…” -Sander breathed, as if steeling himself -”It’s not always the power.”
“Sometimes I…killed because I…could.” -He turned his head sharply to the side, hiding his face -”I killed a lot. Much more than you think.”
Christmas had heard a portion of the confession before—had already understood what it meant. He was a coward and a fool, but this much he didn’t need help comprehending. It was true that the world at large was too violent for anyone like him to survive long, and the thought that Sander had killed for the sake of it seemed to align too well with what television wanted the public to think of Aberrations. Rightly, he should have been appalled at the notion of murder.
But he remembered the pressure of a warm body against his palms and the shove that had come too easily to him.
He should have been appalled, but he didn’t think he minded so much. He had seen it, the horrors of Washington on the news. The callous disregard for the actual people and the insane fervor that the internet had taken to just to name the new spectacles.
One way or another, he was a monster with the rest of them. So he didn’t think he minded as much as he wanted to.
”Okay,” he replied, the acceptance simple. His hold on Sander didn’t relax and he pressed his face again to the turned jaw. ”I don’t mind.”
“I’ll kill again.” -Sander’s voice was suddenly shaky, the complete honesty in Christmas’ answer rubbed him raw. He expected fear and disgust; he would have been fine with it. Acceptance was just….too much. He didn’t know what to do with it -”I did. At Wisford.”
”Okay.” Because Christmas didn’t protest it. Didn’t question the inevitability of it, even if the future scared him with how vast its possibilities spread. Death was always a guarantee. He nodded, then repeated, ”Okay.”
This was awful, Sander thought, and he went ahead and said it too -”This is awful.” -Because Christmas shouldn’t have to be okay with this. Maybe it would have been better if he just…didn’t leave the Facility at all. Stayed where he belonged.
The words tightened knots in Christmas’s shoulders. ”A-Awful?” He let go, looking like he had been scolded. ”S-sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. -Sander explained quickly, reaching out for Christmas again because the loss of warmth was more than he could take -”You shouldn’t have to be okay with it. Shouldn’t have to stay with someone like me.”
“But you are, anyway. And I can’t really let you go.”
”You—you said it was…my choice. I…I’m choosing.” The healer tried to explain a comment made too long ago and too far removed from the circumstances. But he had taken it to heart. He rested his hands on Sander’s arms, leaning into the heat of the taller boy’s chest. Compassion and ruthlessness all in one—but deep down he supposed he had always known from his first meeting with blue eyes, then the terror of red against moonlight. ”I’m here.”
“You are.” -Sander gave the healer’s shoulders a squeeze, sighing as he finally decided to drop the topic and move onto to something else -”Did it hurt a lot?”
“Huh?”
“Your hand.”
”A-A little bit…a lot…” Christmas mumbled, unsure if the sudden change in topic meant anything serious.
“Just…do it on the outside. Maybe your forearm? It hurts less on the forearm.”
”H-have you tried it?” The healer blinked up at Sander, already expecting a morbid answer.
“I…My power doesn’t heal that way.” -Sander quirked an eyebrow, confused by the wording of the question -”No…I never cut myself.”
”Oh…then—then how do you know?”
“They cut me.”
”…They…?”
“The people at the…facilities.” -Sander kept his face blank as a host of unpleasant memories assaulted his conscious. But that was a long time ago. He deserved it anyway.
”Wh-Why?”
“I don’t know.” -Sander shrugged -”To see what I can do, I guess.”
Christmas opened, then closed his mouth, the slow realization seeping into his thoughts. Atrocities. It was different from mentally pardoning Sander, because this was agony inflicted upon the blood mage. He didn’t like it, the mere thought of “people at the facilities” cutting Sander open and apart. He held the arms tight, panic coating his face.
”I’m-I’m sorry,” he stammered, watching Sander’s expression darken at the topic.
“What for?” -Sander just ruffled golden hair, a tight smile lightning up his features, but it was more for Christmas’ sake if anything -”You didn’t put me there. I put me there.”
”H-huh?”
“What I did. I had to stay there.”
”What you did…?”
“I killed people.” -But that answer was insufficient, and Sander knew it. Christmas deserved the truth. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. At least, not the ones he wanted to -”I…I’ll tell some day.”- He mumbled, shamed. Because he wasn’t brave enough.
”Okay,” Christmas breathed, relieved that the moment had passed without incident. He moved into a tighter hug, breathing in the tartness of Sander’s green apple shampoo and hoping against hope that he’d keep surviving whatever was to come.
“You’re wonderful.”
”N-not really. You—you are, though.”
“I’d argue with you on that.” -Sander’s tone was suddenly light and playful.
”But it’s true,” the blond protested, voicing his disagreement into Sander’s chest.
“Not true.”
”True.”
With a sudden lurch forward, Sander pushed both himself and Christmas onto the dry leaves and twigs below, the blood mage’s arms cradled protectively around the smaller boy’s body. Just like that, Sander hovered above the blond boy, blue eyes bright from the fond smile on his lips.
“Not true.”
The impact knocked a bit of the wind from Christmas, even with Sander cradling him, and the boy gasped for breath for a moment before moving his hands to Sander’s face, cradling taller boy’s jaw.
”…True,” he repeated.
“Not true.” -Sander grimaced, before trying one more time -”Please?”
”You’re wonderful,” the blond repeated with a small laugh that he quickly banished with a quick clear of his throat.
With no option left, Sander leaned down and pulled Christmas into a kiss. It was passionate, open-mouthed and dirty with the full intention to tease a reaction out of the healer. As if feeling that just the kiss wasn’t enough, Sander pressed the full length of his body onto Christmas, pinning both of the healer’s arms above his head.
Christmas squirmed, finding it incredibly unfair for Sander to win the argument that way, but the motions were half-hearted. He enjoyed it, the surprise of it all, and when the initial fluttering of his heart had finally calmed down, he was warm underneath Sander’s body. As heat crept up the smaller boy’s shoulders, Sander got what he wanted—Christmas, flushed and panting as the kiss ended, lips reddened from where Sander had pressed his own repeatedly against them.
”S-See?” the small boy stammered in a rare moment of audacity, ”Wonderful.”
"You should see yourself right now. -Sander mumbled, lost -My best thing...”
At that Christmas laughed, the sounds soft and quiet, but he didn’t cough it away. Out of habit, his hands wanted to cover his mouth, but he ended up no match for Sander’s strength.
”I don’t…really understand it,” he admitted, ”why you…why you think that so much but…I think that you’re—you’re my best thing, t-too.”
"We both don't get it, huh?"
”…I don’t mind that.”
“This is awful.” -Sander complained, but the bright smile on his face betrayed his happiness -”But I guess I don’t mind, too.”
As the words left him, he leaned down, pressing another kiss onto Christmas’ lips.
𝔽𝕣𝕚: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~ 𝟚𝟛𝟛𝟘
𝕊𝕦𝕟: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~ 𝟙𝟘𝟘𝟘
A text from Emma earlier that day invited him to a beach party, and Sander had to admit that he really wanted to go. Before the Facility, his family never travelled, mostly due to the threats of monsters and subnaturals outside the cities. And after, there was really no point. But now, he was allowed to and he didn’t really want to miss the chance. Especially when he could go with Christmas.
That morning, after returning from his jog in the woods, Sander immediately went for the kitchen where he could grab some breakfast. As usual, he took some coffee or milk for himself, while bringing back breakfast for Christmas. However, he decided to ask for some swimwear too, since the staff had been nothing but accommodating toward his requests the past weeks.
When Sander arrived at the kitchen, he simply began rummaging through the fridge for a drink. Knowing his schedule well, the staff would often leave food on the counter for him. However, Sander didn’t just take the food and leave, but instead approached one of the maids working in the kitchen at that time.
“Excuse me.”
The redhead turned around, one hand trying to tame her messy curls back into the bun on her head.
”Yes, sir?” she asked, giving up on her hair and clasping her hands politely in front of her.
“Can I…get something to wear for the beach?”
”Certainly! What would you like?” the girl sighed, glad it was a simple request. She hadn’t been there long and the last thing she needed was for Aldrich to scold her again.
“Uh.” -Sander narrowed his eyes, trying to recall what Christmas said he wanted to wear -”Beach clothes. The ones that are…frilly and pretty.”
She raised an eyebrow, having known—as did the rest of the staff—who roomed with whom and the clothing sizes of the various guests. He didn’t seem to be asking for himself, either. ”For you as well?”
Sander looked slightly alarmed at the suggestion, because Christmas had only ever mentioned what sort of dresses he liked, not who he wanted to see in them. Sander wouldn’t mind either way, but it did make getting them harder, as he and Christmas did have vastly different body types.
“I’m…not sure.” -He mumbled, before venturing -”Yeah?”
The maid stared, then nodded. ”Okay, I’ll bring back a variety in both your sizes. Please wait here.”
True to her word, the maid was back in little over ten minutes carrying two small baskets of what looked like folded laundry at first glance, but was actually a large selection of male and female swimwear in varying colors and styles. She placed both baskets on a nearby counter and curtsied to Sander.
”Is there anything else you’d like, sir?”
“…No. Thank you.” -Sander stared a bit, slightly taken aback by the large selection of clothing. He walked over and picked up one of the basket, testing its weight. However, a thought occurred, and he looked back to the maid –“Can I…get one of your uniforms too?”
“It’s…frilly and pretty too.” -He smiled, suddenly looking apologetic, trying to explain his difficult request.
”…A-Absolutely, sir. I’ll fetch that right away.”
She returned quickly with two uniforms, one in Sander’s size and another in Christmas’s, face blank as paper to hide her confusion at the request. Still, she had learned not to question things by now. As long as they were harmless enough activities, she’d stay well out of their way.
“Thank you.” -Sander put both outfits inside one of the baskets, along with some breakfast for Christmas, before picking them up. He shifted his shoulders slightly to accommodate the weight, giving the maid another ‘thank you’, then quickly walked back to his room.
Christmas had been worrying all morning about the beach party ever since Sander had informed him earlier. He thought it would be fine if he arrived in his normal clothing, since he didn’t particularly want to swim in the water. On top of that, he didn’t know anyone in class too well outside of Sander, Lily—and even her only partially, and Ernie. The last name made him grimace and he almost missed the awkward tapping on the door of Sander’s room, where he had spent most of his time.
He opened it carefully, then quickly when he realized it was Sander carrying two baskets of clothes and another bundle of items. He grabbed one of the baskets that looked like it was ready to fall, setting it down and then sitting down beside it, staring at the colorful, decorated swimwear within.
Sander left the boy to his own device, occupying himself with a carton of chocolate milk. However, he did interrupt Christmas bit to press a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil into his hands.
The boy mumbled a “thank you” before looking up at Sander.
”What—what is this?”
“Swim clothes.”
”F-for…who?”
“Us.” -Sander settled down on the floor next to Christmas -”We are going together, right?”
He picked up a set of blue swimwear—a frilled tube top and a matching skirt with shorts beneath—staring at the pieces in his hand like he had been given gold ingots.
”…I can wear this?” he asked softly.
“Yeah.” -Sander sipped from his milk carton, watching Christmas closely. However, the content look on the boy’s face told him he had nothing to worry about -”I can wear it too?” -He offered, glancing at the frilly apparel. Clothes were just clothes to him; he wore what he wore from a force of habit. He figured he didn’t mind changing that much, if it were for Christmas.
”Do you…do you want to?” The question was genuine confusion. ”Th-these suit you more?” Christmas replied, picking up a pair of black board shorts hemmed with red accents.
“I don’t mind either.” -Sander reach out for the pair of shorts in Christmas’ hands -”Do you prefer me in these?”
The blonde took a moment to picture Sander in the shorts, standing in the ocean surf and looking back at him. A cough later and the heat was creeping towards his neck again, so he busied himself picking out more of the swimwear, pretending he hadn’t already found one he liked.
Sander just sat next to Christmas in silent, letting the boy poking around among the clothes for as long as he liked.
“I think you would look good in anything.” -He said eventually, leaning toward Christmas.
”…I believe you. Th-that you think that…I-I mean.”
“I also think you would look good wearing nothing at all.”
Christmas had been slack-jawed until then, mesmerized by the sight of girlish clothing he was allowed to wear. At the comment, he froze, teeth clicking together as his jaw abruptly tightened. The heat rushed full force to his face now, the words sending him careening back to memories of passion under a setting sun and the cool ocean breeze across his bare body. He hugged the selected pair of swimwear to his chest, trying to remain calm when Sander had practically hummed the line into his ear.
The better part of him found some words in response, dredging them through the fever of desire.
”N-naked…you—you look better.”
“I wasn’t looking at myself.” -The scent of coffee suddenly flared, and Sander couldn’t help but turn his face into the crook of Christmas’ neck and inhale. A shiver passed through the smaller boy’s body at the motion and Sander thoroughly enjoyed the effect he had on Christmas, the palpable reactions sating the part of him that wanted to think only he could make the blond boy tremble in anticipation at a single touch. Emboldened, Sander leaned in and placed a wet kiss against the side of Christmas’ neck, tongue wetting the skin just above the pulse point. He got the reaction he wanted—a quiet gasp and a stronger shudder along Christmas’s shoulders.
Sander was tempting himself as well as the blond boy. He kept his nose buried in the heat at the nape of Christmas’ neck for as long as he dared, savoring the delicious aroma that lurked just beneath pale skin. It wouldn’t take much to create a scratch, just deep enough for the red to ooze. And it wouldn’t hurt Christmas a lot now that the boy could heal himself, the addict in him coaxed.
Sander broke the contact in one quick motion, lifting his head off Christmas’ shoulder. He remained close though, going back to finish the carton of milk in his hands.
“You know, if you ever want me to stop…If I ever do anything you don’t like…Just say it. I’ll stop.”
”Can…can I say…’don’t stop’?” Christmas replied, a longing gaze on his face as he looked up tentatively.
Sander’s eyes went wide, but a smile easily broke across his face -”I think that defeats the purpose of making me stop.”
Christmas opened, then closed his mouth. After a moment, though, he had his final decision. ”…Don’t stop. I-I can…it heals now. You don’t have to…stop.”
“You spoil me.”
”I want to.”
“Then please let me return the favor sometimes.”
”You don’t…um…don’t have to. I just—I like doing what—what you want.”
“What if I want to do what you want?” -Sander tried one more time, throwing one arm around Christmas’ shoulder, the motion had grown casual, like a habit -”Please?”
Christmas didn’t know how to resist Sander’s “please,” and even the instinctive anxiety that came with memories of being held by the shoulder faded quickly just moments later, the reminder of more visceral acts with Sander far more recent and vivid than older fears. He nodded instead, trying to escape the question of what he wanted.
“Well…Tell me. What do you like to do? We always do things I want.”
Unsuccessful and a small part of him didn’t mind, though it fretted all the same over what he did and didn’t deserve. Embarrassed even in Sander’s company, he scooted a bit closer and leaned to whisper in Sander’s ear like he was afraid the bed or the walls would judge him.
”I want to…to go on a…a date. And then…afterwards f-from—from be-behind…” He ducked his head into the bundle of clothes in his arms, turning away to hide after the confession and panicking at the thought that it was too forward, even for Sander.
“From behind?”
Christmas just shook his head, the little burst of courage gone now and replaced with his usual worries.
”S-Sorry.”
“Tell me next time then? After the date?”
Slow nods answered Sander, but Christmas avoided looking up, not ready to own up to admitting what he liked.
“We should get ready for the beach.” -Sander finally abandoned that particular topic, instead focusing on the more pressing one at hand -”So which one do you want me to wear?”
The healer pushed the black and red board trunks at Sander before collecting the pieces of blue swimwear.
”You—you think it’ll be okay…if—if I wear this?” he asked, looking at the two-piece in his hands.
“I think you would look beautiful.” -The answer came naturally, with no hesitation. Then Sander’s smile took a wicked turn, though the evident blush on his cheeks contrasted his confidence -”Then maybe you can…wear them for later too. When it’s just us.”
Christmas gulped, the thought of “later” mirroring Sander’s blush on his neck and shoulders, too. He nodded again, snatching at sandals and hurrying off to the bathroom to change, emerging minutes later in a frilled tube top and matching ruffled skirt that exposed the meager amount of muscles he had built up doing beginner exercises months ago, when he had thought to try and better himself for someone else with something as unfitting as martial arts.
He kept his ribbon on, not expecting to actually swim, and crossed his arms across his stomach like he was trying to hold himself together.
”Is…is it okay?”
Sander had already change into his swimwear, but he kept his t-shirt on, planning to take them off when they arrived at the beach. Once Christmas emerged from the bathroom though, Sander paused, eyes instantly drew to the expanses of exposed white skin.
“Wow.” -He mumbled, taking a few steps toward. It was silly, he knew. He had seen Christmas naked before, in various settings. Yet, there was something alluring about partial, skimpy clothing. Like it was tempting him to take the rest off.
”N-not okay?” the blond asked, already wringing at his hands and unsure what “Wow” meant other than surprise. Surprise as a reaction had rarely been good for him, but he wanted to hope.
“No. No. It’s--” -Sander began, catching Christmas’ hands in his and smoothing out the restless fingers -”It’s…nice. You look nice.”
At that the smaller boy looked up, worry on his face as he checked for sincerity on Sander’s. After a moment, though, the furrows on his brow relaxed and he managed a small smile.
”Thank you.”
“Let’s go then.” -Sander tugged on Christmas’ hands then, eager to head to the beach. The blond boy complied easily, and soon enough, they were on their way.
That morning, after returning from his jog in the woods, Sander immediately went for the kitchen where he could grab some breakfast. As usual, he took some coffee or milk for himself, while bringing back breakfast for Christmas. However, he decided to ask for some swimwear too, since the staff had been nothing but accommodating toward his requests the past weeks.
When Sander arrived at the kitchen, he simply began rummaging through the fridge for a drink. Knowing his schedule well, the staff would often leave food on the counter for him. However, Sander didn’t just take the food and leave, but instead approached one of the maids working in the kitchen at that time.
“Excuse me.”
The redhead turned around, one hand trying to tame her messy curls back into the bun on her head.
”Yes, sir?” she asked, giving up on her hair and clasping her hands politely in front of her.
“Can I…get something to wear for the beach?”
”Certainly! What would you like?” the girl sighed, glad it was a simple request. She hadn’t been there long and the last thing she needed was for Aldrich to scold her again.
“Uh.” -Sander narrowed his eyes, trying to recall what Christmas said he wanted to wear -”Beach clothes. The ones that are…frilly and pretty.”
She raised an eyebrow, having known—as did the rest of the staff—who roomed with whom and the clothing sizes of the various guests. He didn’t seem to be asking for himself, either. ”For you as well?”
Sander looked slightly alarmed at the suggestion, because Christmas had only ever mentioned what sort of dresses he liked, not who he wanted to see in them. Sander wouldn’t mind either way, but it did make getting them harder, as he and Christmas did have vastly different body types.
“I’m…not sure.” -He mumbled, before venturing -”Yeah?”
The maid stared, then nodded. ”Okay, I’ll bring back a variety in both your sizes. Please wait here.”
True to her word, the maid was back in little over ten minutes carrying two small baskets of what looked like folded laundry at first glance, but was actually a large selection of male and female swimwear in varying colors and styles. She placed both baskets on a nearby counter and curtsied to Sander.
”Is there anything else you’d like, sir?”
“…No. Thank you.” -Sander stared a bit, slightly taken aback by the large selection of clothing. He walked over and picked up one of the basket, testing its weight. However, a thought occurred, and he looked back to the maid –“Can I…get one of your uniforms too?”
“It’s…frilly and pretty too.” -He smiled, suddenly looking apologetic, trying to explain his difficult request.
”…A-Absolutely, sir. I’ll fetch that right away.”
She returned quickly with two uniforms, one in Sander’s size and another in Christmas’s, face blank as paper to hide her confusion at the request. Still, she had learned not to question things by now. As long as they were harmless enough activities, she’d stay well out of their way.
“Thank you.” -Sander put both outfits inside one of the baskets, along with some breakfast for Christmas, before picking them up. He shifted his shoulders slightly to accommodate the weight, giving the maid another ‘thank you’, then quickly walked back to his room.
Christmas had been worrying all morning about the beach party ever since Sander had informed him earlier. He thought it would be fine if he arrived in his normal clothing, since he didn’t particularly want to swim in the water. On top of that, he didn’t know anyone in class too well outside of Sander, Lily—and even her only partially, and Ernie. The last name made him grimace and he almost missed the awkward tapping on the door of Sander’s room, where he had spent most of his time.
He opened it carefully, then quickly when he realized it was Sander carrying two baskets of clothes and another bundle of items. He grabbed one of the baskets that looked like it was ready to fall, setting it down and then sitting down beside it, staring at the colorful, decorated swimwear within.
Sander left the boy to his own device, occupying himself with a carton of chocolate milk. However, he did interrupt Christmas bit to press a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil into his hands.
The boy mumbled a “thank you” before looking up at Sander.
”What—what is this?”
“Swim clothes.”
”F-for…who?”
“Us.” -Sander settled down on the floor next to Christmas -”We are going together, right?”
He picked up a set of blue swimwear—a frilled tube top and a matching skirt with shorts beneath—staring at the pieces in his hand like he had been given gold ingots.
”…I can wear this?” he asked softly.
“Yeah.” -Sander sipped from his milk carton, watching Christmas closely. However, the content look on the boy’s face told him he had nothing to worry about -”I can wear it too?” -He offered, glancing at the frilly apparel. Clothes were just clothes to him; he wore what he wore from a force of habit. He figured he didn’t mind changing that much, if it were for Christmas.
”Do you…do you want to?” The question was genuine confusion. ”Th-these suit you more?” Christmas replied, picking up a pair of black board shorts hemmed with red accents.
“I don’t mind either.” -Sander reach out for the pair of shorts in Christmas’ hands -”Do you prefer me in these?”
The blonde took a moment to picture Sander in the shorts, standing in the ocean surf and looking back at him. A cough later and the heat was creeping towards his neck again, so he busied himself picking out more of the swimwear, pretending he hadn’t already found one he liked.
Sander just sat next to Christmas in silent, letting the boy poking around among the clothes for as long as he liked.
“I think you would look good in anything.” -He said eventually, leaning toward Christmas.
”…I believe you. Th-that you think that…I-I mean.”
“I also think you would look good wearing nothing at all.”
Christmas had been slack-jawed until then, mesmerized by the sight of girlish clothing he was allowed to wear. At the comment, he froze, teeth clicking together as his jaw abruptly tightened. The heat rushed full force to his face now, the words sending him careening back to memories of passion under a setting sun and the cool ocean breeze across his bare body. He hugged the selected pair of swimwear to his chest, trying to remain calm when Sander had practically hummed the line into his ear.
The better part of him found some words in response, dredging them through the fever of desire.
”N-naked…you—you look better.”
“I wasn’t looking at myself.” -The scent of coffee suddenly flared, and Sander couldn’t help but turn his face into the crook of Christmas’ neck and inhale. A shiver passed through the smaller boy’s body at the motion and Sander thoroughly enjoyed the effect he had on Christmas, the palpable reactions sating the part of him that wanted to think only he could make the blond boy tremble in anticipation at a single touch. Emboldened, Sander leaned in and placed a wet kiss against the side of Christmas’ neck, tongue wetting the skin just above the pulse point. He got the reaction he wanted—a quiet gasp and a stronger shudder along Christmas’s shoulders.
Sander was tempting himself as well as the blond boy. He kept his nose buried in the heat at the nape of Christmas’ neck for as long as he dared, savoring the delicious aroma that lurked just beneath pale skin. It wouldn’t take much to create a scratch, just deep enough for the red to ooze. And it wouldn’t hurt Christmas a lot now that the boy could heal himself, the addict in him coaxed.
Sander broke the contact in one quick motion, lifting his head off Christmas’ shoulder. He remained close though, going back to finish the carton of milk in his hands.
“You know, if you ever want me to stop…If I ever do anything you don’t like…Just say it. I’ll stop.”
”Can…can I say…’don’t stop’?” Christmas replied, a longing gaze on his face as he looked up tentatively.
Sander’s eyes went wide, but a smile easily broke across his face -”I think that defeats the purpose of making me stop.”
Christmas opened, then closed his mouth. After a moment, though, he had his final decision. ”…Don’t stop. I-I can…it heals now. You don’t have to…stop.”
“You spoil me.”
”I want to.”
“Then please let me return the favor sometimes.”
”You don’t…um…don’t have to. I just—I like doing what—what you want.”
“What if I want to do what you want?” -Sander tried one more time, throwing one arm around Christmas’ shoulder, the motion had grown casual, like a habit -”Please?”
Christmas didn’t know how to resist Sander’s “please,” and even the instinctive anxiety that came with memories of being held by the shoulder faded quickly just moments later, the reminder of more visceral acts with Sander far more recent and vivid than older fears. He nodded instead, trying to escape the question of what he wanted.
“Well…Tell me. What do you like to do? We always do things I want.”
Unsuccessful and a small part of him didn’t mind, though it fretted all the same over what he did and didn’t deserve. Embarrassed even in Sander’s company, he scooted a bit closer and leaned to whisper in Sander’s ear like he was afraid the bed or the walls would judge him.
”I want to…to go on a…a date. And then…afterwards f-from—from be-behind…” He ducked his head into the bundle of clothes in his arms, turning away to hide after the confession and panicking at the thought that it was too forward, even for Sander.
“From behind?”
Christmas just shook his head, the little burst of courage gone now and replaced with his usual worries.
”S-Sorry.”
“Tell me next time then? After the date?”
Slow nods answered Sander, but Christmas avoided looking up, not ready to own up to admitting what he liked.
“We should get ready for the beach.” -Sander finally abandoned that particular topic, instead focusing on the more pressing one at hand -”So which one do you want me to wear?”
The healer pushed the black and red board trunks at Sander before collecting the pieces of blue swimwear.
”You—you think it’ll be okay…if—if I wear this?” he asked, looking at the two-piece in his hands.
“I think you would look beautiful.” -The answer came naturally, with no hesitation. Then Sander’s smile took a wicked turn, though the evident blush on his cheeks contrasted his confidence -”Then maybe you can…wear them for later too. When it’s just us.”
Christmas gulped, the thought of “later” mirroring Sander’s blush on his neck and shoulders, too. He nodded again, snatching at sandals and hurrying off to the bathroom to change, emerging minutes later in a frilled tube top and matching ruffled skirt that exposed the meager amount of muscles he had built up doing beginner exercises months ago, when he had thought to try and better himself for someone else with something as unfitting as martial arts.
He kept his ribbon on, not expecting to actually swim, and crossed his arms across his stomach like he was trying to hold himself together.
”Is…is it okay?”
Sander had already change into his swimwear, but he kept his t-shirt on, planning to take them off when they arrived at the beach. Once Christmas emerged from the bathroom though, Sander paused, eyes instantly drew to the expanses of exposed white skin.
“Wow.” -He mumbled, taking a few steps toward. It was silly, he knew. He had seen Christmas naked before, in various settings. Yet, there was something alluring about partial, skimpy clothing. Like it was tempting him to take the rest off.
”N-not okay?” the blond asked, already wringing at his hands and unsure what “Wow” meant other than surprise. Surprise as a reaction had rarely been good for him, but he wanted to hope.
“No. No. It’s--” -Sander began, catching Christmas’ hands in his and smoothing out the restless fingers -”It’s…nice. You look nice.”
At that the smaller boy looked up, worry on his face as he checked for sincerity on Sander’s. After a moment, though, the furrows on his brow relaxed and he managed a small smile.
”Thank you.”
“Let’s go then.” -Sander tugged on Christmas’ hands then, eager to head to the beach. The blond boy complied easily, and soon enough, they were on their way.
