“WE ARE SO going to regret this,” Daniel said with a sigh.

He smiled as he blew over his teacup, and from across the breakfast counter, Jeff grinned at him. He’d already packed their lunches for Daniel’s last day of work and Abby’s last day of school. Their suitcases were waiting upstairs, almost ready. In the morning they’d be on a plane.

For the first time in his many years working as a teacher, Daniel Wu’s winter vacation would begin a week early. As a supervisor, he would accompany a handful of lucky eight-year-old chess club enthusiasts for a training tournament in the picturesque snow-covered Austrian Alps. Daniel looked forward to showing Jeff and Abby one of the places he’d enjoyed the most during his travels.

A pancake flipped through the air and returned with a sizzle to the pan. Jeff shook his head, his excitement contagious.

“We’ll be fine. Between you and me and Amber and Nick, I think we can wrangle a bunch of kids.”

Jeff had a point. It shouldn’t be much harder than keeping an entire class in line during museum trips, especially with so many adults supervising. He just couldn’t help but worry a little, planning for disasters and busted knees and special dietary requirements.

“Besides,” Jeff continued, “other teachers will be there, won’t they? With the other teams.”

“Yep,” Daniel agreed.

The pension hotel they’d be staying at had been reserved to host a mini-tournament of the International Chess Club that Amber had convinced Daniel to join. As a novice teacher, Amber had needed someone else to co-supervise the school’s club. Honestly, it had been a good thing. Some of the kids—Abby especially—had taken to it incredibly quickly during the first months of the semester, and now, they were set to start participating in competitions. One of the perks of the ICC was the winter gatherings that served as practice before the summer tournaments. And some of next year’s teams in Abby’s age group would be present at the resort. It opened up opportunities to meet new kids, learn new things.

Nothing came without a price, however, and Daniel suspected he’d pay for this trip with his patience and a few white hairs. He was excited, for several reasons, and yet—

Some of his ambivalence must have been visible because Jeff said, “Don’t pout,” his smile just as bright as he pushed over a full plate.

“I’m not pouting.” Daniel pulled the flattest expression he could. “My face is poutless, see?”

“Sure.” Jeff looked at the ceiling. “Abby! Breakfast!”

She came thundering down the stairs, hair tied crookedly in two braids falling over her shoulders. She’d been getting better at doing them herself, with a determination Daniel figured she extracted from her passion of all things Wednesday Addams, but she still had a ways to go. It was a matter of practice. Abby waved the tip of a braid at him, a question mumbled around her mouthful of pancake.

“They’re better today,” he said.

“The best,” Jeff added with a pat to her head.

Abby’s teeth were smeared with jam as she grinned.

“Mouth closed,” Daniel chastised, gently, and heard Jeff’s lips smack against each other.

He laughed—couldn’t not with his precious persons. The happiness of it stung behind his eyes for a moment, and he took a deep breath.

“What am I going to do with you two, huh?”

“I guess you’ll have to love us,” Jeff singsonged in a bad rendition of The Addams Family tune, and Abby snapped her fingers at the end.

Daniel shoved a forkful in his mouth just so he wouldn’t blurt, “Marry me,” to Jeff right then and there.

 

ABBY FINISHED HER breakfast first and, at Jeff’s suggestion, went to her room to see if there was anything she’d want to take with her that needed cleaning. Jeff had taken the day off specifically to deal with the last of the packing and household chores before they had to leave.

Despite himself, Daniel sighed at the plate he was washing. Jeff’s arm came around his waist, chin on his shoulder.

“Still at this?” he asked in a whisper. “I packed two first aid kits. We’ll handle everything; we can do this.”

Daniel grabbed a mug, rubbed at it with more force than necessary. “It’s not the kids.”

“Hmm, what then? Oh,” Jeff said before he could answer. “Nick?”

With a nod, Daniel turned off the water. Holding the wet mug, he stood there, but so did Jeff, silently supportive. Probably thinking the same things. Daniel and Abby and even Amber attending the chess tournament would’ve meant Jeff spending the holidays alone. Besides, Amber’s long-distance girlfriend would be there, plus her brother, leading another team. Daniel suspected they were the reason Amber had gotten so passionate about chess, of all things. In any case, Daniel and Jeff had agreed to make it a family vacation as well, and along the way, it was decided Nick would join them. The parents of the other kids had been more than happy to approve the extra chaperones.

Outside the window above the sink, the ground was covered in a thin layer of snow. Not enough to interrupt any traveling, but visible enough to have Daniel roll back over the last two years of his life and the cornerstones that had changed it. Seemed like the most important things happened to him in the snow. And the next one would, too, if nothing interfered with his plans.

He set the mug down and pulled Jeff’s arms tighter around him.

“He can’t even look me in the eye,” Daniel said.

Jeff didn’t reply, not with words. Instead, he pushed his face against Daniel’s neck and breathed there deeply.

When Daniel got together with Jeff two years before, it meant Abby would also be in his life. The little girl and her adoptive father had swiftly and enduringly pulled Daniel into their world. By last winter, his circle of close friends also included Jeff’s longtime bestie, Amber, who, as the school’s newest teacher, had managed to outshine even Daniel’s starting semester there. They’d taken to each other so quickly Jeff claimed to have gotten whiplash.

The same hadn’t happened with Nick, though. One fateful winter day last year, the man had appeared, trying to reclaim Abby as his daughter. Biological contribution wouldn’t—couldn’t—erase the fact that Nick had taken off the night Abby had been born, the same night his wife had passed, the same one Jeff had lost his twin sister. As if his entitlement hadn’t been enough, Nick had been outright judgmental toward Jeff and Daniel’s relationship. They’d set him straight, under the looming threat of lawsuits, and Nick had changed his mind. He’d been in their lives ever since—mostly because of Jeff—and had surprised them with how easily he settled into the role of uncle for Abby. But while Nick and Jeff’s rapport had been improving, things between Daniel and Nick weren’t as rosy.

“Give him some more time,” Jeff said quietly. “Please.”

Daniel nodded, petting at Jeff’s forearm as it squeezed around his chest.

All relationships worth anything were works in progress, so Daniel held onto his patience with metaphorical claws. His little family deserved the effort. What helped was that Nick seemed to be trying just as hard. Two weeks, though, in close quarters with him nearby? Daniel was understandably anxious.

 

THE DAY WENT by fast. The last bell rang, and Daniel turned off his laptop. Next week’s activities would be covered by Evelyn, the other third grade teacher, and the classroom was tidy. Nothing else to do but take Abby home to where Jeff was probably panicking over the luggage. Even with Jeff’s brave front, Daniel had seen his packing list. It was extensive.

“Ready?” Amber’s voice drifted in from the hallway. “I can’t wait,” she added, bouncing on her feet.

“You’re just happy to see Sara.”

“Duh. But also, the Alps, and skiing, and the Alps!”

It pulled a laugh from Daniel. “It’s beautiful over there, yes.”

They shared the mirth as they walked down the hall, but sobered as they reached the administration desk.

“Do you have all the paperwork? IDs? Proxies? Phone numbers?”

Daniel patted his backpack. “All here.”

“Good, good.”

They took a few minutes to say goodbyes around the office and the teachers’ lounge, wishing happy holidays. By the time they stepped outside, Abby was moving away from the group of kids waiting for pickup. Amber waved as she hurried across the parking lot, shouting a cheerful, “See you in the morning,” before taking off.

Daniel met Abby at the car, and she raised an eyebrow. She was getting better at that, too.

“Do you have it?”

For the second time in the last ten minutes, he patted the backpack. “In here.”

She nodded, not unusually silent, but still a little more subdued than the excitement of the trip warranted. Daniel set the backpack in the car, turned to her, and crouched down. He wanted to be at her eye level for this. He gripped her shoulders gently.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? If you don’t want me to—”

“Yes! I’m sure!” Her surprise was obvious, so it wasn’t that. “I want you to ask Daddy. Promise,” she added when Daniel kept looking at her. Smart kid.

“Okay,” he said with a smile and received a hug for his troubles. “Are you sad because of something else, then?”

“I’m not sad,” she muttered. Embarrassed.

Huh. Abby fidgeted, a stubborn set of her face, and Daniel decided to let it go. She’d probably tell him or Jeff when she was ready.

“All right, kiddo. Let’s go home.”

He wasn’t too worried about what he was planning to do. He and Jeff had talked about marriage. He knew Jeff wanted it just as much as he did. It was only a matter of who popped the question first. Back in September, Daniel had taken Abby aside to explain and make sure she was okay with it. Apparently, Jeff had done the same, but Abby was convinced it would take a while for him to come up with something to his satisfaction.

“It’s because he likes you so much,” she’d said.

Daniel had seized the opportunity then. He really wanted to see the surprise on Jeff’s face, hoped it would be accompanied by delight. After much brainstorming, he and Abby had come up with the perfect way to ask—something sappy enough for the romantic in Jeff, and them enough to have a deeper meaning, to be memorable.

“I called the pension today,” Daniel said as he stopped at a traffic light. “They said the communal guest kitchen has ovens, and we can bake our cake there, no problem.”

From the back seat, Abby let out a victorious “Woo!” before squinting at him. Daniel eyed her warily through the mirror.

“Did you practice writing with frosting?” she asked.

Daniel huffed out a breath as he drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Didn’t have time, but how hard can it be?”

She gave him a look.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “I even looked up convenience stores; there’s two in the resort.” He wanted to reassure himself more than Abby as he went over the plan again. “I’ll sneak out in the morning, get the ingredients, and then we’ll make sure Jeff is occupied with the other kids. A couple of hours should be enough. We’ll put the cake in the fridge in our room and lure him there after dinner. I’ll ask Amber for help if we need it, okay?”

Abby had nodded until then, but suddenly she looked shifty.

Along the road, the trees parted to reveal their house in its small clearing, and Daniel parked while Jeff waved from the porch. He’d ask another time, then, what that was all about.

 

THE COLD WINTER air bit into Nick’s neck and the tops of his ears as he sat on the swing. He had wanted to step out of the apartment for a few minutes, maybe grab a snack from the store across the street, but he’d ended up here, without a cap or a scarf. This was the same park where he and Lauren and Jeff used to hang out when they were teenagers. Hell, they’d even met in the same spot as snotty five-year-olds. When their kindergarten teacher had told them all about snowdrops emerging from the snow, they’d spent an entire chilly February afternoon watching an iced-over patch of the sandbox for the first flower of spring. They’d teased each other about that, later on, until the memory faded within the tumult of life.

The playground was dark, only the sturdy swing set having survived the remodels over the years, and Nick pushed gently with his feet against the frosty ground. The chain squeaked. Lauren used to laugh at the sound. She’d laugh so much.

The bitter thought wasn’t far away. She’d be so disappointed in Nick. He’d really made a mess of things. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he closed his eyes and imagined her there, wearing that look that said You’re a moron, Mariani.

Sure, there was an explanation, but it sounded hollower the more he repeated it to himself. Being in pain didn’t excuse dishing it to others.

It had taken years to get past losing Lauren in childbirth. Seven, to be exact, in which he hadn’t seen or spoken to Jeff. Seven years in which he hadn’t known his daughter’s face. Most of that time, he hadn’t even been able to admit to himself she existed.

Guilt had sneaked up on him, though, and no measure of justification could make him wipe the metaphorical slate clean so he’d start a new life. It had taken too long to heal, and for that, an innocent little girl had lost both her parents. He wasn’t proud of how he’d handled it, but he also hadn’t been able to take care of himself, let alone another human being. The day the adoption by Jeff was finalized was the day Nick admitted himself into a psych ward as far away from his hometown as possible.

At about this time the year prior, he had reached the decision to return. The town, as he’d driven back in, had assaulted him with all the memories of loss and grief. He should have waited, calmed himself down before reaching out to Jeff and Abby. Should have taken the time to process seeing them with Jeff’s boyfriend. Instead, he’d threatened them and uttered such bullshit…

The words banged around in his head, echoing with vicious clarity. You’re gonna turn me gay, too? Such a hypocrite Nick was.

Jeff hadn’t forgiven him for his extensive disappearance, but he’d at least accepted his apologies. Abby and Daniel, too. For a while—when he’d been busy searching for an apartment, distracted by moving back—it had felt all right. Water under the bridge, and they’d allowed him into their family. Uncle Nick instead of Daddy, but it suited their situation. He’d given up Abby, and it wouldn’t be fair to rip her away from Jeff when he was the one who’d raised her.

When spring came, Daniel had to go and be accommodating and understanding. With each interaction, Nick had gotten more and more weighed down by the events of last Christmas.

He was so ashamed.

He’d treated Daniel like a disease. All the remorse in the world wouldn’t make it right. Nick had to do something, to prove somehow to Daniel that he wasn’t the asshole he appeared to be. Until then, he didn’t dare look at him.

It was why he’d been filled with anticipation about this trip. Abby had let it slip that Daniel wanted to propose, and what better way for Nick to show his support than by helping? He was willing to clean puke from kids if it meant giving Jeff and Daniel some time together, away from the bustle of daily activities during the chess tournament. If it meant making sure their vacation would be memorable.

His phone pinged with a message from Jeff, with the pickup time in the morning. He sent a confirmation back, and then the screensaver popped up, Lauren’s face smiling at him.

“I hurt our family, babe,” he confessed to her. It wasn’t the first time in the past months.

His therapist’s words came back to him in Lauren’s voice. Wallowing never did him any good. He couldn’t change the past, but he could change where he was heading. How, too.

“I miss you,” he told her, imagining the words flying up into the night.

He missed her, but it wasn’t all-consuming anymore. It was a feeling that was partly bitter, partly sweet, memories both painful and happy wrapped around it. She wouldn’t have liked the way he’d isolated himself after his discharge. Jeff didn’t like it either; he’d been clear about that, and Nick was starting to consider letting him set him up for a date. Maybe. Coming from him, his face so similar to Lauren’s, it felt like she had been saying it.

With a huff, he shook his head at himself.

The screen went dark, and he turned it on again. He smiled at her smile.

Eight and a half years later, he missed having someone in his arms.

He turned the phone off by choice, then, and slipped it in his pocket.

Maybe it was time.

 

ON THE SUNNY morning of December fifteenth, Nick stepped out of the airport shuttle and stretched his limbs as best he could. The clamorous voices of their kids countered the silence of the pine trees, spilling over the slope of the mountain. Above them stretched the snow-laden forest and below, the rest of the hotels, houses, and pensions. The resort was neither small, nor too big and overcrowded, but it had some stores and enough life that it didn’t feel cut off from the world. The kids shuffled over to where Daniel was calling for them, and Nick took the accidental elbow as gracefully as he could before unloading the luggage.

Three interconnected buildings made up the large pension booked by the ICC, two for guests on the sides and a middle one with the common areas and staff quarters. The common rooms would be the scene for all the chess and socializing bits. The smaller structure closest to the tree line housed their rooms, Jeff had explained. They were supposed to share with the team led by Amber’s girlfriend and her brother. Or something. Nick hadn’t paid that much attention. Amber and Jeff’s friendship had started after…after he’d left.

Nick groaned as he hefted one of the suitcases out of the van, briefly imagining, with a hint of jittery hysteria, a bunch of bell weights in it. It was a sign he needed a nap, but it was only 10 AM, and they’d probably need to wait until at least noon to get to their rooms. The other more blaring sign that he was tired was the dull thump the suitcase made when he smacked it into someone’s middle.

A new someone.

“Ow.” The guy said it with a smile, like he didn’t really mind. But then—because why shouldn't the long trip end without stabbing Nick in the butt—he added, “Isn’t it too early to hit on strangers?”

The guy bit his lip, blinked once, and Nick swallowed his tongue.

The silence stretched a little too long, it seemed, because the expression on the man’s face turned satisfied. Nick swore internally, with a frantic scramble to find something to say. A hand on his shoulder drew his attention. Jeff.

“Hey, this is Nick,” Jeff said. “And this is Leon, Sara’s brother.”

“Nice to meet you, Nick,” Leon offered while plucking the suitcase out of his hands. He made it look like it weighed nothing.

Nick glared. Jeff poked him in the side, muttered, “Play nice.”

The smug bastard must’ve heard it, because he turned after setting the case down and winked. “Yeah, Nick, play nice.”

Whatever retort had begun forming on his lips died then and there, as someone else rounded the corner of the van.

“Here you are,” Sara said.

It had to be her; there was no doubt in Nick’s mind. She had the same face, albeit softer, the same eyes, same smile. Same dark skin and posture and the same long fingers as she waved at him in hello. Just as tall as her brother.

Twins.

Nick’s heart lurched.

 

NICK MUST HAVE managed the introduction and then helped carry the luggage inside because, next he knew, he was sitting at a round table in the pension dining hall. Jeff and Daniel on one side, Amber and Sara in front, and Leon to his right. The two tables flanking them hosted the kids of the two teams, their voices filling the room. They all seemed to be talking to their parents one way or another, most of them on video calls, quite loudly and overlapping.

He wondered for a moment how those parents felt having their kids away for the holidays, and, frankly, he didn’t have an answer. Nick had only spent one winter with Abby, so he had no baseline. Maybe those parents were grateful, looking to spend time alone together. Maybe they were worried but had made the effort so their child could experience new things. He searched for Abby and found her talking animatedly to the only other kid without a phone or a tablet in their hands. Daniel had mentioned the boy—workaholic parents, bright mind, withdrawn. Nick scratched his nose with a sigh.

Around him, the conversation ebbed with the food. Chess and school seemed to be primary topics. Nick only half paid attention, but enough to gather that both Sara and Leon were teachers. They sat next to each other, sometimes snatching words and ideas from the other. It reminded him so starkly of Lauren and Jeff and the days when they were happy. And he couldn’t stop staring; for the love of any and all deities, he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. Leon, especially, gesturing as he spoke, mouth full of food as he tried to talk—

The image dug up a memory of Lauren eating a hot dog and telling him about a poodle wearing a cape. He never heard the end of the story because half the meat, mustard, and bread had ended up on his shirt while Lauren guffawed.

“So, Nick,” Sara said, thankfully pulling him back to the present, “what do you do?”

He cleared his throat, self-conscious. “I…write.”

“Yeah? Have I read anything of yours?”

“Maybe. I’m a ghostwriter.”

“Ouch,” Leon said with a wince. “Letting others take credit for your work for money—doesn’t sound too pleasant.”

Nick couldn’t suppress his answering scowl, and Leon raised both palms in a placating gesture.

“I just meant I couldn’t do it. It’s your business, man.”

“Have you written for anyone famous?” Sara asked, interrupting whatever was about to come out of Nick’s mouth.

He forced a smile he hoped was amiable enough. “I can’t tell you any names, but there was this French actress with a memorable life story. Needed help with a memoir.”

Sara grinned. “What was that like?”

Nick shrugged. “I enjoy writing about other people.” It had kept him above water, so to speak, when he’d needed it most. But they didn’t have to know that. “Biographies in particular. It’s as if I’m being allowed to see into their most inner core, see what makes them tick.”

Leon whistled, and Nick almost forgave him his trespasses. Almost, because the next thing he said, while slapping at Sara’s upper arm with the back of his hand, was, “Hey, we’re French,” and with a suggestive move of his eyebrows at Nick, “How can I convince you to write my memoir?”

Nick wanted to do something to him. “You don’t sound very French.”

“We were born there,” Sara explained, “but Mom landed a job in London shortly after. A couple of years later, we moved over the pond, as they say. Our primary language isn’t French. I can speak it though.”

“I can say bonjour and what do you want for breakfast.” Leon grinned, unrepentant.

“He’s not very good with tongues.”

“But I’m amazing with my hands.”

He winked at Nick again, wiggling his fingers and drawing laughter from the rest of the table. Face hot, Nick decided he definitely wanted to punch him. A little bit.

 

THE ROOM WAS perfect, in tones of wood and green, a window that faced southeast, sun slanting in at an angle. It felt homey and warm. The only problem was the bed. The only bed in the room. Which he’d have to share with Leon of all people.

Nick dropped his bag on the floor and stifled a curse.

Through the open door he could see into Daniel and Jeff’s room across the hall. Over their heads, the patter of children’s feet beat an irregular rhythm. Three bedrooms on the ground floor for the adults, two large ones with bunk beds upstairs for the kids. There were no more available rooms to be had, the pension booked full by other teams. At least they had their own bathrooms.

Leon grinned at him from where he sat, bouncing on the mattress.

“Are you sure we have to share?” Nick asked, loud enough to make Amber poke her head in with undisguised interest. Nick glared at her.

“He won’t bite,” Sara called, most likely from her and Amber’s room. “Much.”

Jeff laughed boisterously at that. Nick hadn’t heard that sharp sound in what felt like a lifetime. It shuddered through him, and he took an involuntary step back, skin raised with goose bumps. Vaguely, he registered Leon shutting the door—and most of the noise out—before he came closer.

He leaned in and with a low voice, said, “Are you really uncomfortable? ’Cause I can go see if they have a cot or something. Or I’ll sleep on the floor. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

He looked sincere and concerned, and Nick’s chest felt almost soft. He shook his head.

“I’m fine. Was just joking, I don’t mind sharing the bed.”

It seemed that he’d misjudged Leon, and for a moment, they stood there smiling at each other. Until Leon opened his mouth again.

“Good, ’cause I like to cuddle. Octo-Leon is what they call me.”

He winked at Nick with that toothy grin again, and Nick deemed neither of the two responses he came up with—the ones involving Leon’s face—suitable. So he straightened his shoulders and put on a scowl.

“I kick in my sleep,” he said before walking into the bathroom.

“Feisty.”

Leon’s voice followed him, sending a shiver down his spine. Nick felt like laughing, too, and he did just that as he leaned against the closed door, hand over his mouth.

 

DANIEL GAVE HIMSELF a few minutes of rest as he lay down on top of the covers. Upstairs, the twelve kids of the combined teams were alarmingly rowdy as they unpacked, but they were all accounted for, fed and healthy and filled with excitement. The plans for the afternoon involved having a meet and greet with the other four teams in the main hall, and then taking a walk through the resort until dinner.

He watched Jeff putter around the room, exchanging shouted words with the others for a while, and then everything was muffled when he closed the door. He sat on the bed, hip against Daniel’s, and leaned in for a kiss.

And another on his cheek, his forehead, his nose.

“Hi, honey,” Daniel said.

Jeff looked pensive as he pushed the hair from Daniel’s forehead. His gaze traveled down his face, then up to Daniel’s eyes, with regained focus. “I love you, too.”

Daniel pulled him back down, locked their lips, and kept him there with anticipation he couldn’t express, lest he ruined the surprise.

“Scoot over,” Jeff said when they broke apart.

They lay face-to-face, quiet for a while before Jeff chuckled.

“What?”

“Do you think we can sneak some mistletoe in here?”

Suspicion gripped Daniel. “Why?”

“I think Nick likes Leon. We’re going to witness either a romance of epic proportions, or a massive communication failure. Either way, mistletoe wouldn’t hurt.”

“You mean Nick of the gay-is-yuck variety likes a guy.”

“He doesn’t—” Jeff rolled onto his back with a sigh. “Him, me, Lauren—we all dated both girls and guys in college. And during one memorable semester, a genderfluid cutie who went out with all of us. Not at the same time. Anyway, he’s not straight.”

Daniel sat up, crossed his legs under him. Nick hadn’t often been a subject of their conversations, and when he was, it mostly concerned Abby. Daniel hadn’t felt the need to pry further, and Jeff hadn’t seemed willing to reopen old wounds. “This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“Really?” Jeff’s eyes were wide and round, and when Daniel shook his head, he said, “I thought I told you. I’m sorry. I guess, in my mind, he’s always belonged with Lauren. Anything else was irrelevant.”

The new information wasn’t as surprising as Daniel would have expected it to be. He lay back down, head on Jeff’s chest that time, to listen to his heartbeat.

“Then it’s sad,” he said, “that he thinks he can only build a life with one gender and not the others.”

Jeff’s fingers were gentle in his hair. “I still have hope for him.”

“See, that’s why I love you.”

A fake gasp. “I thought it was for my pancakes!”

Daniel took Jeff’s other hand, placed a kiss to his knuckles. He smiled up at him. “We’re not getting mistletoe.”

“Aww. Not even a tiny one?”

 

WHEN NICK OPENED his eyes, two things became immediately evident. First, the sun hadn’t risen yet, although the sky outside was a shade lighter than in the pitch of night. Second, warmth weighed down half of him. Nick lay on his back, fingers of one hand resting on Leon’s short curls, a leg caught between Leon’s. Wetness seeped into the cotton of his T-shirt, right next to where Leon’s cheek pressed onto his shoulder.

So the cuddling hadn’t been a joke.

Lauren hadn’t been much of a snuggler, and there, in that moment, the body next to him felt different enough that he could enjoy it as it was, with nothing bitter attached to the sentiment. He let the air out of his lungs, as slowly as possible, and petted the top of Leon’s head. Once, twice, and then let his hand fall back upon the pillow.

Nick was pondering whether or not to wake him when Leon’s phone gave a sharp ring.

Leon startled with a snort and rolled away. With a groan, he reached over to turn off the alarm.

Perhaps he wasn’t a morning person? Inconclusive yet.

When Nick looked over, Leon was blinking tiredly at the ceiling.

“What time is it?” Nick asked.

“Six thirty.”

“So we’ve got half an hour before the kids are up. Want coffee?”

Leon stared at him. “No sugar, splash of milk,” he said slowly.

Nick nodded and got up. He detoured to the bathroom to brush his teeth before ambling out. There was no noise from the other two bedrooms, and he decided not to wake them. The corridor Nick followed opened into the passageway toward the center building. He’d spotted a coffee machine on the table next to the reception. The space was chilly, but not as much as a trek through the snow would’ve been. For that matter, he looked down and then promptly grunted at his bare feet. Great.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one searching for coffee; others were there, gathered around the table, speaking in hushed voices. In order not to wake the kids yet, he overheard someone say, and fully agreed.

The bedroom was empty when he returned, and he sat on the bed against the headboard, sipping at his drink, listening to the hiss of the shower. Leon finally returned, a towel around his hips. Nick tried not to stare, but he couldn’t not look, either, as Leon rummaged through his toiletry kit, dropping things on the mattress. Toothpaste, deodorant, a silicone dick.

Nick squinted at it; maybe he’d seen wrong. Nope, definitely a dick, but not a dildo.

Leon was a picture of nonchalance as he seemed not to find what he was looking for. He stretched, twisted one way and the other. The low light from the window outlined the sinews of his body, and now that Nick paid better attention, there were telltale scars at the bottom of his pecs.

A pinprick of ache formed behind his ribs, and he wondered why. Too early in the morning for that, though.

Leon didn’t look at him. Instead, he dropped to the floor, for push-ups of all things, and Nick rubbed at his face.

He counted to fifteen before Leon paused, arms taut, holding himself up against the floor.

“Aren’t you gonna ask?”

Nick took another sip of coffee. “Are you always so blatantly aggressive when you come out to other people?”

Leon barked a laugh at that, and he faltered in his motions. He stood up, gestured with his fingers. “Turn around. I wanna get dressed.”

“Now you want me to turn around,” Nick commented, but he obeyed and sat up, his back to Leon.

“Shut up, man.” And then, as fabric rustled in the silence, he added more softly, “Thanks.”

 

SUNLIGHT GLITTERED OFF the white expanse of the sleigh slope. Everywhere, children frolicked in the snow, their mirth lifting in waves. Jeff was halfway down the hill, picking kids up when they took a tumble, Daniel at his side. Nick had volunteered to stand watch at the top with the first aid kit ready. Sara sat with him for a while, and then Leon switched with her, leaving Nick to be the recipient of bad flirty puns. Also, this:

“Yeah, Andy! Come on, boy, get up, there you go!” Leon shouted down the slope. The kid in question wobbled to his feet. He stuck a thumb up, grinning, before he ran off again, and Leon’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“How can you remember all their names?”

“Well, you can’t, not at first, but you don’t need that. You just need to know how many there are and how to tell them apart. Look—” He moved next to Nick, pointing across the space below them. “We have twelve kids between us. The five blue hats are yours, the seven green ones mine. Always count them and keep track that they don’t lose their color.”

That explained the ugly hats. Nick glared up at his. Leon chuckled, low and warm.

“Don’t worry, you’re still pretty.”

Nick couldn’t help but feel he’d passed some kind of test that morning, yet why did Leon keep trying to rile him? He elbowed Leon in the ribs, but that only made him laugh harder.

“What about telling them apart?”

“Assign descriptors. Orange gloves, red pants, braids, and so on. You’ll learn their names in time.”

“Braids is Abby. She’s my d—niece.”

Leon nodded, thankfully oblivious to his almost-slip.

“Cool kid. Also kinda scary.”

“Tell me about it.”

 

THE NEXT FOUR days blended into each other. Nick woke up entangled with Leon one way or another. He’d fetch them coffee then watch Leon exercise. It was strange yet curiously familiar. Not unenjoyable, not at all.

Their schedule was filled to the brim with an array of chess games as kids rotated to play against as many opponents as they could manage. The team supervisors milled among the players, giving them suggestions and pats on the back indiscriminately. It was because this was a practice tournament, Daniel had explained. They’d choose four finalists to go against each other the following Monday and designate winners, but it would be symbolic rather than part of any official ranking.

On the sidelines where Nick was observing, there were parents, too, chaperoning their respective progeny. They gushed over their children to whoever was listening, and it made Nick feel disconnected. Not Jeff, though; he was there at the front with praises about Abby, each one adding to the ever-growing lump in Nick’s throat. He didn’t think he belonged there, among them. Didn’t think he even deserved Jeff including him in all those conversations.

In their lives, really.

 

THE WEEK HAD been a little overwhelming for Daniel. He’d learned as much about the chess tournament as the kids had, and felt a whole lot more prepared for the summer competitions. Still, at the end of the day, it was exhausting. Jeff seemed to enjoy the whole thing, though, and Daniel curled up next to him at night, counting the days until he and Abby could set their plan into motion.

He’d been aiming for the weekend break. Saturday, however, instead of the lazing they’d wanted to do, they all got roped into another trip to the slopes. Daniel couldn’t stay behind, and could give no reason other than something worrisome, like a health issue, which would have kept Jeff behind as well.

It had to be Sunday.

In an amazing stroke of luck and brilliant thinking, Abby managed to start a snowball fight soon after breakfast. Curiously, it was Nick who threw the first metaphorical punch by shoving snow in Leon’s face. It escalated quickly, and Daniel took advantage of the chaos to sneak to the store.

By the time he made it back and had safely hidden the supplies, the snow fight had drawn everyone in the pension, kids and adults alike. There were camps and generals and a few snowmen soldiers as well.

They broke for lunch, after which, drained and warm and content, the masses retreated for naps. Brilliant idea through and through; Daniel would have to get Abby an extra present on her birthday.

Jeff was snoring lightly when Daniel went to get her from her bunk. She was a bit sleepy, but adamant to help, and besides, Daniel didn’t want to do this without her.

The kitchen was deserted, and Daniel first grabbed them hot chocolate from the machine in the lobby. They sipped their drinks while double-checking they had all the ingredients on the list before starting.

Just as Daniel was about to crack the first egg, the door opened, and Nick strolled in.

“Here I am,” he said, as if he’d been expected.

Daniel side-eyed Abby. There it was, that shiftiness in her posture as she set her phone on the counter and pursed her lips. “What did you do?” he asked her slowly. Daniel turned to her in time to see her lift her chin, but the subsequent staring contest didn’t last long.

“He knows,” she said quickly, “and he wants to help and the fight was his idea and he knows exactly how Daddy makes the cake!”

She was a little breathless at the end there, and it made Daniel smile. Well, if this little girl he loved so much trusted Nick, so could he. He winked at her as warmly as possible.

“Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

The recipe wasn’t hard to follow, but Nick took the sheet they’d printed it out on and scribbled modifications. He was as helpful as he could be without taking over completely. The batter went into three pans instead of one, at his behest, and they waited for it to bake while listening to Abby’s vision of the future wedding. Maybe they should get married on Halloween to save them the trouble of cleaning fake spiderwebs twice. Nick barely said anything.

Not until the oven pinged. That was when he insisted on not waiting for the cake to cool all the way.

“You know why the cake Jeff makes seems to melt and falls apart before it’s done?” he asked them, mostly Abby. “Well, because the first time we made it, we didn’t wait. Everything was a hot mess.”

From where she was sitting on the chair next to the counter, Abby leaned in. “Really?”

“Yep,” Nick said. “We were at Grams—you remember Grams, don’t you?” Abby nodded, so he continued. “Okay, the story starts before that. When we were kids, I was always there at Grams with your mom and your—Jeff. Three musketeers and whatnot. But one day, Grams comes home to find us eating sugar out of the jar, and she huffs and tells your mom she needs to learn to cook.”

He poked at one of the pans then, checking to see if the contents were ready to come loose. He laughed a bit, and it sounded like it hurt, but Abby didn’t catch it, thankfully. Daniel’s throat, though, was dry.

“You know what dear Lauren did then?” A headshake. “She crossed her arms like you do, looked Grams in the eyes, and said, Why should only girls cook? Teach the boys, too. In the end, it was only Jeff and me who ever learned how. She never touched one spoon. As a matter of principle.”

“Whoa,” Abby whispered. “Mommy was a badass.”

Daniel startled. “Abby! Where did you learn that?”

“Sorry, that’s my fault,” Nick said.

His gaze fell, the amusement on his face dropped, and only then did Daniel realize that for the past hour, Nick had been interacting with him as naturally as possible. As he watched Nick painstakingly remove each sheet of baked cake from its pan, it dawned on him that perhaps the reason Nick was so distant wasn’t because of Daniel, but because of guilt.

On the counter, the three layers sat in a row of slightly misshapen rectangles.

Without a word, Nick grabbed a knife and started cutting off corners until they resembled disks. Abby looked distressed when Daniel met her eyes from Nick’s other side, as if she didn’t know how to process the sudden change. He moved closer, draped his arm across Nick’s back, and squeezed his shoulder.

“Thank you for helping,” he said.

Nick’s head jerked with a nod, and he was blinking really fast, too fast, so Daniel pulled him tighter against his side.

“Really, Nick. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Abby added.

Whatever else any of them were about to say was interrupted by noise in the hallway.

“Have you seen Daniel?” Jeff’s voice drifted through.

They jumped apart, Daniel scrambling to find an excuse, when Nick caught his arm.

“Go,” he said. “Keep him busy. We’ll finish here.”

His indecision must’ve shown, because Abby jumped off the chair and pushed him toward the door. “Go, I know what it needs to say.”

Daniel took a deep breath. “Okay, okay.” He pulled the box from his pocket, handed it over. “Here, make sure he can find it quickly.”

“Yes, Daniel,” came in unison as he sneaked out of the kitchen.

 

IT WASN’T DIFFICULT to distract Jeff, especially because Jeff wanted them to step outside to watch the sunset together. The reddish glow lit up the peaks, blanketing the white-topped forests, and they held hands taking it in from one of the benches that dotted the roads of the resort. It didn’t last long, but Daniel’s chest was full of warmth by the end of it. He stole a kiss, got another for free, and then his phone pinged.

Go get dinner together, we have it under control here. From Nick.

Jeff wasn’t hard to convince.

Some Kasspatzln and a couple of beers later—because one couldn’t travel to Tyrol without trying at least one of the local dishes—they made their slow way through the resort, lingering among the snow-covered buildings. The sky was clear, the air crisp, and Daniel dragged his feet not only because he wanted to get back after the kids were in bed, but because it felt like a good buildup to the surprise in the room. Together, enjoying the evening in silence, much like how they’d started two years back.

“I didn’t realize it’d gotten this late,” Jeff whispered as they entered their room.

Daniel shrugged. He couldn’t trust his voice, not yet. He inhaled deeply as they shed their coats and boots, steeled himself in front of the bathroom mirror as he washed his hands.

He beelined to the small fridge in the corner before Jeff could get there, opened the door—

And dropped his knees to the floor in surprise.

On top of the melting monstrosity that was Jeff and Abby’s favorite cake sat a large flower, the ring nestled in its center, amidst pointy petals of red frosting. The words Marry Me surrounded it along the rim. A note was stuck to the plate. We couldn’t help ourselves. Good luck, Abby & Nick.

He huffed a laugh.

“What?” Jeff asked.

And Daniel… He couldn’t really breathe. He withdrew the cake, and turned around, pulled one knee up.

The way Jeff’s phone flew from his hands would’ve been hilarious if Daniel’s heart hadn’t been beating so hard.

Jeff was two steps away, and kept gaping. Kept staring, unblinking.

“So?” Daniel prompted, voice cracking with the words. “Will you marry me?”

He’d never seen Jeff move so fast. He almost upended the cake on Daniel as he skidded to a halt, right there on the floor in front of him.

“Yes, yes. Definitely, yes!”

Daniel’s face split into a grin so wide, it hurt.

 

NICK WAITED, LEANING a shoulder against the doorjamb. Across the hall, Abby stepped away from the closed door of Daniel and Jeff’s room, skittered into Nick’s, and as soon as she was inside, she whisper-shrieked, “He said yes!”

“Yay,” Leon grunted from under the covers. “Now go celebrate somewhere else.”

It was late, and Abby should have been in bed, but she was thrumming with excitement. Half an hour to wind her down wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m taking your coat,” Nick told Leon, right before he gave his to Abby. “Let’s go get some tea, yeah?”

She couldn’t stop giggling, and it was adorable. He took a couple of photos when she wasn’t paying attention as they waited for their tea to steep, mostly for Jeff and Daniel, to see her joy.

They ended up on the low bench lining the porch of the center building. The light from the windows stretched in elongated shapes across the driveway, making the snow sparkle against the dark. She looked so delighted he felt it by proximity alone. Abby managed to take a sip before another cackle took over.

“I’m happy,” she said, breathless. “Are you?”

It was such a simple question and such a simple curiosity behind it, but it still choked him. He rubbed the top of her head.

“Yeah, kid. I’m happy. Your dad is lucky.”

She leaned into him.

And—

And in his chest, something came loose. He felt free, all of a sudden, unburdened, uncoiled.

“I know I’m not your dad, kid, but I’m here. Whenever, whatever you need, I’ll be here for you. Not gonna disappear again.”

He wasn’t her father—that was the whole point. He kept telling himself that, yet he hadn’t really believed it, not until then. She might’ve been his child, but she wasn’t his daughter, and that was okay.

Abby hugged him in reply.

Later, as he got in bed, he would’ve cried. Leon was there, though, latching onto him like a human cephalopod, and Nick let the sensation of safety that came with it drag him to sleep, to dreams of a future in which the world didn’t seem intent on flaying him raw.

 

MONDAY WAS THE last day of the tournament. Abby, of course, was one of the four finalists announced in the morning. Amber scurried her away to prepare for the afternoon games, and Daniel rounded the other kids up in the main hall to write home. Where he’d produced a stack of postcards was beyond Nick, but he filled in one of his own that showed the peaks visible through the windows, before stepping out.

That was how he ended up next to Jeff, kicking at the snow as they walked along the tree line.

“Daniel told me what you did.”

Nick didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t say anything. Judging by the tone, it wasn’t a reproach. He turned, instead, a few steps between the trees, and leaned on a trunk to watch the canopy. Green pine needles under the snow. Soft and fluffy on the outside, prickly on the inside.

“I hated you so much back then.”

Jeff’s voice sounded heavy. His footsteps, too, as he approached. Nick expected him to stand there, or lean against the same tree, but Jeff grabbed a handful of his coat.

Right over his heart.

Nick blinked at his white knuckles.

“I don’t think I can forgive you.”

His stomach flipped painfully, and it was quiet for a moment, some sort of stillness permeating the space between them. And then, suddenly—

“Not yet.”

He heard it more than felt it, the crunch of snow under his boot, the shift of fabric as Jeff pulled, hard. He stumbled forward into tightening arms, and he couldn’t do anything other than clutch back.

“But I’m gonna try,” Jeff whispered close to his ear. “I’m happy you’re back and that you’re alive. I’m gonna try.”

Nick closed his eyes and buried his face in Jeff’s scarf.

 

“WHAT HAPPENED TO you?” Leon’s concern was obvious, and Nick waved it off.

“Family stuff. Emotions are dangerous.”

That earned him a grin. And then it faltered. “I know it’s supposed to be a secret, but if they don’t say something soon, I’m gonna spill the beans to Sara. Can’t ever hide anything from her. You know how it goes.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. Lauren couldn’t keep anything from her brother either.

At that moment, though, he wasn’t in the mood for more forays into the past, and he changed the subject.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dancing the dance of the unvictorious? Why are you so chipper?”

“I’m about to climb in bed with you; what’s there to be sad about?”

By then, Nick had developed somewhat of a thick skin against all the flirting. Still, somehow, his face heated.

“Do you ever stop?”

Leon did pause, then, and looked at him with interest. “Do you want me to?”

If he was honest with himself—and Nick couldn’t afford not to be—he didn’t. Not really.

“No,” he said, offering a smile. It felt like a choice.

“Wait, is Abby upset she came in third?”

“Not at all. I think she was just happy to have been chosen. She’s pretty new to all of this.”

Leon laughed, and that sound was already so familiar to Nick it sent a shiver down his spine. “Man, Jeff must be so proud. If I ever have kids someday, I hope they end up like her.”

Nick lay down, feeling slightly nauseous, and he wondered if he’d eaten something bad as he wrapped an arm around Leon’s shoulders.

 

CHRISTMAS EVE PASSED like a whirlwind. The staff had prepared a presentation on Krampus and then gave the kids an assortment of chocolates and chocolate figurines, just enough to have them jittery during the afternoon. And that was when true chaos really started, because they had another competition on their hands: the wreath. There were a lot of children who already knew about it from previous trips, and their excitement spread like the plague.

As far as Nick could understand, each team was supposed to build a popcorn wreath. Whichever was the longest and most colorful won the honor of being draped in the dining hall. The rules were simple. They could use food paints and as many bags of microwaved popcorn as they pleased, as well as any other small objects they wanted. But there still had to be at least three kernels for each of whatever other things were shoved through the string.

It wasn’t enough, it seemed, because at some point during the general disorder, one of the kids climbed a table and yelled, at the top of her lungs, that they should tie all the wreaths together so that they’d all be winners.

The day had been fun but exhausting, and around eight, Nick felt like he could sleep for a week. Jeff caught him, though, right after they called lights out to their kids, and dragged him back to the dining room.

A few other adults occupied some of the tables, talking quietly. Nick’s group was seated at the one they’d been using, with the cake in the middle and a tray of steaming drinks.

“I guess by now, you all know why we’re here,” Daniel said while Jeff handed out the mugs. The ring on his finger glinted as he moved.

Scents of spice and cinnamon wafted from the hot wine, mixing with the sweet notes of the cake.

Amber let out a cheerful “Woo-hoo,” sotto voce, so as not to disturb the peace of the space. It sent the message across anyway.

“Hear, hear,” Sara said, and they all raised their drinks.

Congratulations tumbled from everyone. Some teasing, too, and a few questions about the wedding.

“What I really want to know,” Leon said at last, pointing at the cake, “is why there’s a piece missing?”

“Abby had it,” Daniel said. “There isn’t enough cake for all the children, and we didn’t want to dangle it in front of everyone.”

“She would’ve been here with us, but she’s all tuckered out,” Jeff added. “Who wants a piece?”

Cake dished out and mugs half empty, the voices at their table remained subdued but no less cheery. At some point, Nick lost track of the conversations and sat back to just listen to the noise. That was until Daniel switched seats with Jeff and leaned into his space, gaze intent.

Nick swallowed and held his eyes even though it felt like he might burn right through.

Daniel nodded, once, as if to himself, and squeezed Nick’s arm briefly. It wasn’t enough, still not enough. Nick had to say something, to avoid any misunderstandings. He stood and guided Daniel away from the table. None of the others was paying them any attention, and Nick took a breath.

“When I said I didn’t get it,” he explained quietly, “about you and Jeff, it’s not what you think.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, questioning.

“It wasn’t because you’re a guy and Jeff’s a guy— No, actually, at the time it was, but that wasn’t the real issue.”

Nick rubbed at his forehead. He’d had months to untangle that mess, even booked a couple of sessions with a counselor so he could have a sounding board. Thankfully, Daniel waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“The real issue,” Nick repeated— The real issue was him and him alone. He sighed, bit the bullet, and swallowed it whole. “I guess deep down I was expecting Jeff to have a me-shaped hole in his life. Instead, he was happy with you, and I felt robbed. They were my best friends. I had Lauren on one side, Jeff on the other, and you’d taken the last crutch I had left.”

There. He’d said it.

Daniel didn’t offer him pity. Instead, he hummed, and Nick couldn’t tell if it was with understanding or not.

“I know that doesn’t excuse—”

“Nick.”

“—but I wanted to explain—”

“Nick, it’s okay.”

His teeth clacked as he snapped his mouth shut.

Daniel smiled at him. “Okay,” he said again, and patted Nick’s cheek before returning to the table.

If that didn’t feel like absolution, he didn’t know what else would.

“All right, everyone.” Jeff’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he retook his seat. “Around Christmas, we have some traditions. Yes, yes, already. For one, we make Chinese dumplings at home, but since we’re not at home yet, I guess we’ll have to share those next year, when you’re all invited to get your hands dirty.”

Laughter rippled over the table, but the joke was lost on Nick.

“On the Eve, though, we do apples.”

“Apples,” Sara started to say, and then abruptly switched to, “Ooh! I heard about that. You gift special apples to friends and family.”

“Yes,” Daniel said. “There are some variations on how to buy the apples, but since we’re here with limited options, I thought we’d decorate them instead, to make them meaningful.”

During this time, Jeff had stepped away, but he returned with another tray. This one held round red apples and a few small knives. Daniel pulled out a few strips of paper from his pocket and let them fall on the table.

“We’ll draw names, and then you have to carve something on the apple for that person.”

They plucked at the papers, one by one, until Nick had to grab the remaining name.

Leon. Of course it was Leon. He, who had somehow ended up next to Nick again, who kept an arm around his shoulders half the time, who smiled so brightly it made the room fuzzy around the edges.

Nick took his apple, rubbed his thumbs on its skin, and immediately thought of drawing a dick on it. He laughed at himself as he picked up a knife. Laughed while he carved a snowdrop instead. He started with a thin stem, curling downward from the top where the bell of the flower would be attached. The elongated petals turned out wobbly, but Nick was pleased with the result. He kept on laughing when Leon kissed the apple with a flourish, and didn’t stop when Jeff gave him one with a replica of his cake-flower on it.

There, somewhere in the middle of all that, he thought he heard Leon’s breath hitch, just a tiny whisper in a sea of delight. It settled in his chest, hooked itself there, and Nick wondered what it might turn into.

 

THE PENSION BEING as large as it was had been a good thing during the mini-tournament. It meant they had a large hall at their disposal with various chairs and tables and sofas lining the walls. Only, in the past few hours, a hurricane of paper and plastic and cardboard had been unleashed.

Christmas morning meant presents, which had been carefully wrapped by parents, collected by chess club supervisors, and mailed to the pension beforehand. At least that was how Amber and Sara had described it, as they all stared at the mess left in the wake of fifty kids opening presents. Sure, the gifts were small enough to be taken back in suitcases, but there’d been so many.

Someone had commented along the lines of not leaving all of it for the staff to clean up—maybe Daniel—and Nick, of course, had promptly opened his mouth.

“I can’t believe you volunteered us for this,” Leon said, fluttering a trash bag open.

“I volunteered myself. You can go.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “And miss the opportunity to stare at your ass while you bend over to pick all this up?” He extended the hand with the bag, grin wide. “Get to it.”

Hell. Nick couldn’t help laughing, not anymore.

“Aw, there it is again,” Leon crooned, self-satisfied as usual. “I knew you had more of it in you.”

“More of what?”

“Laughter.” He said it with such simplicity that something shuddered inside Nick. Something old and cold.

Leon had already turned away, though, picking up boxes, and Nick pushed that weird feeling aside.

They worked in silence for a while, dividing the trash into piles of plastic and paper, and, in one disgusting instance, the contents of a small abominable slime jar.

The commotion in the dining hall was in full roar with a late lunch when Sara dropped off sandwiches and tea for them.

“There’s a choir concert down in the resort, next to the statue,” she said. “We’re taking all the kids there after they eat. Join us?” She blinked at Leon; Leon blinked at her. “Or don’t.” Her gaze skittered briefly to Nick. “See you later!”

“What was that all about?” Nick asked.

When he looked over, Leon had half of a sandwich in his mouth and eyebrows raised in an expression that was supposed to convey ignorance.

Nick hummed, unconvinced, and grabbed a sandwich for himself. Whatever was in it was delicious, and the tea hot. Sitting there, thighs pressed against each other’s on the sofa, Nick felt mellow. The emotional turmoil of the past few days had drained him, and he leaned back to enjoy the quiet in his head; a break was just what he needed.

They were down to the last mouthfuls of tea, Leon’s thumb warm as it shifted across his shoulder—and when had he put his arm along the back of the couch?—when Nick thought to ask.

“Why did you come out to me like that? It doesn’t seem like you.”

It didn’t, not really, now that he’d gotten to know Leon better. What Nick had learned was that Leon came across as an overt and flirtatious guy, but he was still pretty reserved. He made people laugh, but he didn’t reveal much of himself, other than inane tidbits. He was the opposite with Sara, Amber, the guys, and, surprisingly, Nick. Warm instead of cordial, truly open instead of simply polite. Nick couldn’t quite understand why he’d been privy to his secrets from the start. Why, actually, Leon had tested him.

“You had drool on you.”

“Huh?”

Leon withdrew his arm and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He held his mug between his palms for a moment. The small smirk he threw over his shoulder didn’t reach his eyes.

“Usually, I don’t share beds with strangers because I invariably end up all over them. As you’ve no doubt learned by now. But it’s stupid and silly. I forgot to ask for an extra pillow that night, too tired from the flight, and honestly? I was expecting some awkward morning shuffle from you. Was ready to tease the hell out of you.”

He drank from his tea, and Nick matched the gesture, if only to give his mouth something to do.

“But you had to go out with my drool on you to get us coffee.”

Leon swallowed audibly and set down the mug. He turned to Nick, then pried the one from his hand, too.

Didn’t let go of his fingers after.

“I thought I might grow to like you, so I had to know where your line was.”

Nick cleared his throat. “I see.”

“You see,” Leon repeated, amused. “What do you see?”

Irresistible splendor, Nick almost said. Instead, he gripped Leon’s fingers tighter. Found it hard to look away from his eyes, solid and light and saying everything words weren’t.

“So that’s how it is.” Leon shifted closer. “You’re gonna make me do all the work.”

“No,” Nick countered immediately. “I want—”

He reached to—to what? What did he want?

The stubble on Leon’s cheek was not unfamiliar as he whispered, “Me, too,” against Nick’s palm, and—

His lips were hot, and Nick floated fuzzily somewhere in the space between them. He hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.

So that was what he wanted.

That place inside his chest, that part of him that stung and scraped—he wanted it to be soft again.

Like fresh snow. Like how kissing Leon felt.

Like a snowdrop instead of pine needles.

They parted, and Leon’s teeth glinted under his grin as he said, “Not bad. We can work with that.”

Which meant more kissing and more softness, going on dates and smiles and touches, maybe a relationship somewhere on the horizon if it worked out, warmth and life—

—lifeless eyes staring at the light overhead, cold and dark and stinging.

Nick’s breath froze halfway down, settled in a painful lump somewhere along his windpipe.

That was how panic usually started to set in; he was starkly aware.

How he managed to say, “I have to go,” was beyond him. Or maybe he hadn’t gotten more than a rasp out, but his legs listened, and he moved.

 

HE NEEDED A quiet place to curl into, to breathe and count and calm down. To ride the exhaustion after. But everything was loud, so loud. Children shrieking, bumping into his legs. Hands on his arms. His room, maybe, but Leon had followed him there, right behind him, so he grabbed his coat and moved.

Kept moving.

The trees were silent, and they blanketed the rushing in Nick’s ears somewhat. Not enough, not yet, and he pushed further.

Funny how the snow crunching under his feet seemed to follow him, his own name pulsing in the wind, as if the forest were scolding him. It only drove him to move faster, until the air turned sharp as it whipped over his cheeks—maybe he was flying—and he came face-to-face with a wooden door.

Refuge, it said on it, in four languages.

Yes, that was exactly what he’d been looking for, and he slipped inside.

 

WHEREVER HE’D LIVED in the past years, he’d always made sure to have a place to curl into. At the hospital, it had been a small space between the frame of the bed and the wall beneath the window. At home, he had positioned the bookshelf far enough from the corner that he could sit there, walls around him, and close his eyes. He even had a pillow on the floor, a blanket or two as needed. It made him feel safe and warm and not broken.

In the small room of the refuge, though, the air was stale and cold, the floor unyielding and the wall behind his back not that reassuring.

A mistake.

There was an empty space around him where Leon’s warmth should’ve been, if only Nick hadn’t run.

And that, more than anything else, refocused his senses. There was still panic there, at the back of his mind, pulsing like it had a will of its own, but it wasn’t trying to claw its way out anymore.

Not good, he reckoned. That only meant he’d crash later rather than sooner, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he prodded back at that softness, that kiss, to unwrap the fear and see beneath it.

Leon was nothing like Lauren.

Aside from a couple of obvious similarities, the parallels of their existence were so far apart they might as well have been on different planets. The number of idiosyncrasies and microexpressions they shared was too small to coalesce into anything to show likeness to each other. Their lives, as much as he’d learned from Leon so far, had been wildly different. Divergent, even.

And yet, and yet, and yet. He couldn’t help but predict, with ridiculous irrationality, that they’d both end in the same way.

Nick pushed the heels of his palms against his eyes, waited for pressure-light to draw swirls on the back of his lids before letting go. He looked up just in time to see the door open and close.

Leon sat next to him, there in the dank cold. Nick kept track of his hands as they shifted, first on the phone screen, then up to his ear.

“I caught up to him, yes.” He paused, listening to the other end, then asked Nick, “Are you hurt?”

Nick shook his head.

“He seems fine. We’re at Refuge 14.” Another pause. “Yes, the small one to the west.” And again, longer that time. “Really? Damn. No, we’ll be fine, see you soon.”

He hung up, let the phone dangle from his fingers.

“There’s a storm coming,” he said. “We should go back before it hits or before it gets dark.”

Nick knew Leon was looking at him, felt his gaze burning into the side of his head.

“Wanna tell me what this is all about?”

Nick closed his eyes. He could hear Leon’s breath, harsher and harsher, and he counted. Twelve, eighteen, twenty-two.

“I see.” Cracked all the way through, that’s how those words sounded. Leon cleared his throat.

“No, you don’t,” Nick whispered, against his better judgment.

“Then why don’t you explain it to me?”

Why didn’t he, really? What was stopping him? Wasn’t it better to shut it down before it even started? In the quiet, Leon’s warmth seemed to seep toward him even through their thick jackets, and Nick felt it deep in his bones, like a psychosomatic reaction to his closeness. Nick pried his eyes open, not without difficulty, and looked at him.

“Do you really wanna know?”

Leon nodded. “Yeah.” He elongated the word so much it sounded like a duh.

“Okay. I just… I need a minute.”

 

A MINUTE TURNED into ten, and Leon kept checking outside, then tapping at his phone.

“Can that minute you need happen while we’re walking back?” he asked. “’Cause that storm is coming fast.”

Nick’s fingers were still shaking. He doubted his legs would hold him. “No.”

“Whoa, what’s—” He was there, suddenly, kneeling in front of him, taking Nick’s hands between his own. And then, with that teacher voice Nick had been hearing for the past week and a half, he said, “Tell me what you’re feeling. Does anything hurt?”

“No, nothing. It’s an aftereffect.”

“Panic?”

“Yeah,” Nick rasped.

Leon sighed. “We’re not leaving soon, are we?”

“Sorry.”

At that, Leon winced, squeezed his fingers. “Don’t be. I have to call back and let them know we’re staying here, okay? And then you’ll tell me how to help.”

Nick felt selfish for accepting it so easily, but he really didn’t want to be alone. Not anymore.

“Cold,” he said. “I’m cold.”

 

WITH FOCUSED EFFICIENCY, Leon laid out one of the two folded cots and then bundled Nick on top of it into a nest of thick, scratchy blankets. He started a fire in the stove, even brought in some more wood. Already cut. Must’ve been a stash out back.

There were supplies inside, too, bottles of water and cans of food, a well-stocked first aid kit, all shelved neatly in the storage space behind one of the two doors that didn’t lead outside.

“There’s no running water,” Leon said as he came out of the tiny bathroom. He gestured with the metal basin in his hands. “But we should be able to wash our hands.”

He went out, the wind already howling in a way that sent shivers down Nick’s spine, and returned with snow in the basin, which he set down next to the stove.

“Where are we?” Nick asked.

The look Leon gave him was thoroughly unimpressed. “It’s a refuge that belongs to the resort, put out here for idiot tourists who get caught on the mountain at nighttime in a storm.”

“It’s not nighttime yet.”

“Don’t you snark at me,” Leon admonished, a hint of his usual amusement under there. Not enough to bring the smile back, though.

Nick pulled the blankets closer and circled around what he was going to say once Leon finished making tea.

Too soon, he handed over a metal mug, and then dragged one of the folding chairs in front of where Nick was leaning against the wall, cross-legged on the thin, lumpy mattress.

The wind sounded like the mountain was dying. Scraping, making it bleed.

“Feeling better?”

Nick nodded. He sipped at the tea, a horrible tasting liquid, not like the one down at the pension. He felt stupid all of a sudden.

“Sorry you’re stuck here with me.”

Leon rubbed a hand over his face. “The things I do…” He let out a long exhale through his nose.

Right, right. It jolted unpleasantly through Nick that Leon was there to hear Nick’s explanation. “Are you sure you wanna know?” he asked.

“Sure-sure.”

That was that, then.

Nick must’ve been silent for too long, searching for a way to begin, because Leon cleared his throat. Startled, Nick almost spilled the drink on himself.

“You’re nothing like her,” he blurted.

A dawning kind of horror overtook Leon’s face. “Excuse me?”

“Lauren.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Who’s Lauren?”

Wife, sister, mother, specter. A lot of things. Nick patted his pockets, no phone. Maybe he should start at the very beginning, then.

“She was Jeff’s twin.”

Leon muttered, “Was,” seemingly to himself, but Nick took a deep breath and pushed forward.

“I’ve known them since we were little kids. We grew up together, inseparable, us three against the world. Hell, Grams raised me along with them. Their grandmother,” he explained. “My home environment wasn’t the most nurturing, and she took me under her wing without a word. Anyway, we turned out fine under Grams’ watchful eye. She’s—she’s gone now, too.”

He’d always felt it like a throbbing pain in his teeth when he remembered he’d missed her funeral, and he had to wait for it to pass. Thankfully, Leon waited with him.

“Well, we went to college, expanded our horizons, made friends and dated and went through all the learning curves you’re supposed to have. In the end, it was still just the three of us. And then, through some miracle, Lauren and I, we—”

He had to close his eyes for a bit, rub at them.

“We got married in the summer, right after we graduated. Everything was absolutely, amazingly blissful, for almost four years.”

“And then what happened?” Leon asked quietly.

Nick barked out a laugh, hollow and dry. “Remember when you said you wanted kids like Abby? You definitely shouldn’t go through the whole experience.” He saw Leon start to frown, so he hurried to explain. “The night Abby was born, Lauren was gone. There were complications; her heart gave out on the operating table. I saw it happen; there was an observation room—”

He breathed in, breathed out.

“—her eyes were still open—”

And leaned into Leon. Nick hadn’t seen him move, but he was there, sitting next to him…at least for a little while, until Nick would say the rest, and disgust would take over.

“So that’s why Abby looks like you. I thought you and Jeff were brothers.” Leon paused, probably turning it over. “Then why are you the uncle and he the father?”

“Because I’m an asshole,” he threw out, bitter.

“Nick.” The admonishment was gentle, but it hit the mark.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, gulped down a couple of mouthfuls. “I walked into traffic that night. Needed air, went outside, and then stepped in front of the cars. When I reached the other side of the street, I thought how lucky it was that I wasn’t holding the baby. And then I thought that maybe the baby deserved it. It had killed my wife, after all, hadn’t it?”

Leon jerked next to him, hard, but Nick kept staring at one glinting spot on the metal leg of the chair.

“And when that particular thought occurred, I knew I couldn’t go back inside the hospital. So I ran. I got in the car and drove straight out of town, to a lawyer my father used to know. He helped, arranged the adoption, made sure I didn’t have to face Jeff or the baby.”

The air that rushed out of him turned into a shuddering sigh.

“I committed myself into a psychiatric clinic as far away as I could possibly find. Got out after six months. Didn’t last two weeks before I was back in.”

Leon shifted.

“It was ugly, everything was so ugly.”

“How are you now?”

“Surprisingly stable. Except for impromptu runs through the woods, it seems.”

Leon snorted at that, and Nick rubbed at his mouth. He didn’t really need to tell these bits, but he might as well. In all the way.

“I did get better, eventually. Only, it took a lot longer than I expected. Years. I don’t need constant therapy or medication anymore. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all rosy, I’m—I’m not the same. Won’t ever feel completely healed, but I’m moving forward instead of back.”

Another deep inhale.

“I still go to these— There are these group sessions at the community center for grief counseling, and I go once a week. They’re mostly for people experiencing recent losses, but they like to see it’s possible to survive, even if it takes a long time, and—and I go to check myself. If I can talk about it, I’m good.”

“Can I hold you?”

That made Nick look over. Leon seemed so gentle. Nick nodded, and immediately, he was wrapped in Leon’s strong, heavy arms, huddled tight against him.

The tea was cold. Nick finished it anyway.

“Thank you for telling me all that,” Leon finally said, “but it doesn’t quite explain why you freaked out on me.”

Nick curled up tighter, if even possible. “You aren’t her, but for a moment, you were. There it was, another twin for me to murder.”

“What the fresh hell, man?”

“I know, right?”

It was almost funny. Almost. Leon, however, didn’t laugh. Nor did he let go.

“I’m not a good person, Leon.”

“Bullshit,” he countered, tightening his hold.

“I hurt everyone dear to me.”

“You went through trauma.” He shook his head. “We all make mistakes and, of course, that doesn’t mean they should be excusable. But sometimes all the choices we have are between crappy and worse. I don’t think that should, all by itself, decide the level of goodness in one person.”

Leon was silent for a while, and then, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Sara.” His fingers were on Nick’s chin, pressing upward. “If I were you, I probably would’ve done the same.” And Nick let himself move, looked up, and got a smile for it.

The fire needed tending and their legs some stretching. Nick gulped down an entire bottle of water. Food, though, wasn’t an option for him, his stomach squirming between hope because Leon was still there, and dread because Leon was trapped there.

“Does Jeff know all of this?” Leon asked while chewing crackers.

“No. And I’d rather he didn’t. Some things are just…” He waved, unsure how to explain.

Leon nodded, understanding anyway. “Why’d you tell me, then? You could’ve kept the details for yourself.”

Nick felt bold, mouth in a half-smirk as he said, “I was out of dicks to throw on the bed.”

Leon laughed, deep and velvety. The sound persisted, bringing relief as he closed his eyes.

 

THE MORNING WAS crisp, air sharp when they stepped outside the refuge. Clouds were dark at the distant horizon, but directly overhead the sky was blue. The forest remained undisturbed, in opposition to how Nick felt things had changed during the night. Leon’s bones cracked as he stretched. He appeared tired, but they’d both slept, albeit uncomfortably slumped against each other.

“Didn’t snow much,” he commented.

“Wind got very strong,” Leon said.

That was it, nothing else about last night. Nick sucked in a sharp breath. Maybe in the light of day it wasn’t so easy to accept how screwed up he was.

Making their way down the hiking path was harder than Nick remembered the reverse being. It didn’t take long, though, to reach an opening through the trees. From there, they could see the resort, smaller and farther away than Nick thought it would be.

“We’re really high up.”

“Yeah,” Leon huffed, “who knew your scrawny ass could run that fast?”

Nick shrugged, and then, against all odds, Leon’s hand gripped his.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting,” he said.

Nick wanted to groan.

 

“I HOPE HE’S all right,” Jeff said as he ended the call, “so I can kill him when he gets back.”

He lay down on the bed, head on Daniel’s thigh, and blew out a breath.

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Daniel said. “Or at least reasonable for him.”

“I don’t understand him anymore. Sometimes he does and says things that are…not like him. We used to know everything about each other. It feels like he’s a whole new person.”

Daniel hummed, considering. “Maybe he is.”

“What?”

“Maybe he’s a new person. What you two went through was traumatic enough.”

Jeff sat up and turned to face him. “But I’m the same.”

“Are you?”

That seemed to give him pause, and Daniel took his hands, smoothed this thumbs over his knuckles.

“I don’t know how you were back then, but even if you weren’t that much different, time changes us.”

“I guess,” Jeff muttered. “I just wish I knew what’s in his head, at least a little bit.”

“Well, I think I can help with that.” Daniel let go and leaned over the edge of the bed to rummage through his backpack. He was going to give the card back to Nick, but maybe him leaving it behind meant he wanted someone else to read it. “Here.” He flipped it over, handing it to Jeff.

“Dear Lauren,” Jeff read. “Thank you for the soul you brought into the world. Thank you for loving me. Babe, I think I’m ready to L-V-E again. It’s scary, but I’m not alone. Until we meet again, N.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow.

“To L-V-E again?”

“Live, love.” Daniel shrugged. “I guess that’s for him to say.”

“Guess so,” Jeff said, still clutching the card.

 

THEY MADE IT back in time for lunch. Leon was swiftly swept away by his duties to the children, and Nick used the shower as an excuse to get away from Jeff’s hard stare.

When he got out, there was a plate of food on the dresser and a note in Daniel’s handwriting that said they’d all gone to the sleigh slope. They only had this day and the next before making their way home.

Across the room, the bed with its rumpled sheets stared back at him. With sudden jitters in his fingers, he grabbed the plate and skittered to Jeff’s, refusing to think how awkward it would get come evening.

He must have dozed off in the armchair because, next he knew, it was dark, and his shin throbbed with pain. Jeff kicked him again.

“Ow, you ass. What the hell—”

Another kick, but that time, Nick moved his legs out of the way.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Daniel said. He turned to Nick. “Dinner’s over. Are you hungry?”

He wasn’t, not really, and shook his head. Thirsty, though, and took the bottle of water Jeff handed him.

They didn’t throw him out, not even after the kids were tucked in to sleep, and the pension stilled with silence. Daniel was in bed, too, reading under the small lamp on the nightstand. Nick’s body was half numb, but he didn’t want to move. When Jeff put a blanket on him, he sighed.

Immediately after, Jeff sat at the foot of the bed, a hand on one knee, the other fisted against his hip. The look on his face was sour, and Nick knew what was coming.

“You have to explain this to me,” Jeff finally said. “Otherwise, I’ll be breaking my mind trying to figure it out.”

Nick pulled the blanket closer.

“Leon kissed me.”

Jeff blinked a few times, fast. “And you didn’t want to?”

“No, no I did. I just—”

“What?”

“I thought, suddenly, what if I kill him, too.”

He couldn’t really hear his own words as he spoke them, but Jeff must’ve understood them all right, given the way he froze, hand in midair.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“If I hadn’t insist—”

“No,” Jeff interrupted. “It doesn’t work like that. All the what-ifs in the world won’t make it better. I know. I went through all of them myself.”

Nick shifted to look at him. Really look. “Me, too. But I never could get rid of all the blame. Some small part of me thinks it’s the only viable explanation for what happened. And in a way, it’s easier to swallow than a random series of meaningless events leading there.”

Jeff flopped on his back; at that, Daniel leaned forward, to touch him. Nothing more was said for a while, and Nick watched Daniel’s hand running through Jeff’s hair, entranced.

“There are never any assurances,” Daniel said, “when it comes to the future. You can’t know what will happen, but if you don’t try…”

His entire demeanor screamed affection as he smiled at Jeff upside-down, and Nick’s chest ached. He closed his eyes.

“Do you like Leon?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna kiss him again?”

“Yeah.”

“Then maybe you should do just that.”

 

FOR THE SECOND morning in a row, Nick woke up with a crick in his neck and soreness in his limbs. After that, he somehow managed to avoid being alone with Leon all day, ignoring the half-disappointed looks both Sara and Jeff threw at them.

At nightfall, however, he went back to their shared room. He’d been expecting to see an extra pillow, there next to the duvet. There wasn’t one, and with that absence, hope flared.

Leon got ready for bed, still not saying anything, but Nick felt his eyes follow him as he did the same. And soon there was nothing left to do but stare at each other from across the bed.

“We didn’t start out awkward,” Leon said, “so it’s a little unfair that our torrid affair should end on that note, don’t you think?”

That pulled a laugh out of Nick, and he let it rumble along with the swift pang in his chest. Of course. It was supposed to be a vacation fling. Leon would return to his city, his school, his job and the life there.

Suddenly, that sharp coldness holding him back was fading away. Removing the possibility of permanence felt like eliminating a threat.

“So do something about it.”

Leon grinned—finally, finally—and the softness in Nick’s chest renewed when Leon extended a hand.

“Come here,” he said.

Nick went.

They kissed for what felt like hours, first standing, and then shivering from the chill of the night air. Nick squirmed closer under the covers, plastering himself over all that warmth. His lips were numb, but Leon’s mouth wouldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to, either.

Until hot palms found their way under his T-shirt, and he had to pull away. He rolled onto his back, unsure how to—

Leon leaned over him, braced on one hand. The fingertips of the other traced the line of Nick’s jaw as he whispered, “Just kissing.”

Not a question, but an offering.

Nick pulled him down.

 

IT WAS SUNNY as they said their goodbyes in the parking lot of the pension. There were tears and hugs and a whole lot of kids promising to text each other. Nick wasn’t really listening, too entranced with watching him a little bit longer.

Sunshine caught in Leon’s eyelashes, glinted in the corner of Nick’s eye as Leon kissed his cheek.

“I’ll call you when we land,” Leon said, as if it wasn’t over right then and there. “Bye, Nick.”

In that instant, with that terminating conclusion, Nick felt it—the desire to see each other later, continue this, find out where it would go. It burned fast in his entire body, knowing the chances of that happening were slim to none.

The twofold ache left him shaking all the way back home.

 

“AND THEN,” ABBY said, “we all agreed on the pine cone and declared it our traveling treasure.” She skipped over a puddle as they walked through the park. “We’ll send it to each other every three months.”

The town was disparagingly gray. A warm front had melted all the snow, and no more had fallen by the time they’d returned. Maybe in a couple of days it would snow again, after New Year’s.

“Who has it now?”

“Siobhán. She lives near Dublin, and she has to send it to me.”

“We should build it a little home, then, so it has a place to live while in your room.”

Abby grinned toothily, and Nick grinned with her.

He bought them warm chestnuts before steering them onto a bench. For the first time, she’d be sleeping at his place to give Daniel and Jeff the day, and night, together. December thirtieth was their anniversary, after all.

“Did you know,” she said, “that Daddy bought Daniel a ring, too? He never said.”

“That’s him, all right.”

She nodded knowingly. “He gave it to him last night. It has two sides, and they come apart, and in the middle it’s written something that Daniel said I won’t understand until I’m, like, thirty or something.”

Abby huffed a sigh, squinting into the distance.

“I still don’t get what’s so nice about having a date at home. It gets boring after a while.”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to laugh. “Yeah?”

“They should go dancing, or ice-skating, or, or! To the carousel!”

“You wanna go ride on the carousel?”

“Can we?”

“Sure. Before we go, though, I have something for you. A present.”

Interest piqued, she gazed up at him.

“I thought we’d make a Christmas tradition of our own,” he told her, “to always remember the plushie debacle.”

Her face fell in slow motion, unabated distress crawling over it. He didn’t let it reach her eyes, though, and pulled the little paper bag out of his pocket.

Abby whined a disparaging “Nooo,” but she still opened it.

The keychain dangled on her fingers twice before she registered what it was. “Cousin Itt! It’s not a plushie,” she corrected, “it’s Cousin Itt.”

“Technically, if it’s made of plush, it’s a plushie.”

She cradled the tiny top hat in her palm and the rest of it against her chest. “Don’t you listen to him, Cousin Itt, he’s a big meanie.”

Nick laughed. “Whatever you say, kid.”

“I say thank you, Uncle Nick.”

And that there—that finally felt like it fit.

 

THE LAST DAY of the year was overcast. It was cold, but it lacked the bite of winter. The streets and buildings and people seemed otherworldly, somehow, layered with a sheen of uncharacteristic warmth, but Nick kept shivering.

It had been three days since Leon and Sara would’ve made it home, and Leon hadn’t called. Nick knew they’d gotten there just fine; Amber had let them know, and the silence stung. He shook it away, or at least tried to as he finished his grocery shopping.

That night, he’d opted not to encroach on Jeff and Daniel and Abby’s time, not that they’d offered, specifically, that he join them. They were supposed to meet tomorrow for the dumplings anyway.

He sent a quick text to Jeff, wishing them all happy celebrations, and turned his phone off.

He made it until after sunset before the walls of the apartment started crowding in on him, and not in any way that felt comforting. So he grabbed his coat and went out, back to the park and the swings, but he took a seat on a nearby bench instead.

He leaned his head back, let his eyes fill, and then overspill.

 

“THEY LANDED!” ABBY shrieked, watching Daniel’s phone like a hawk. “Amber texted. Nick’s gonna be so happy. He was sad yesterday.”

“Was he?” Jeff asked.

Daniel kept a hand on Jeff's back as he decorated gingerbread cookies. They didn’t have a tree this year, but they could have the smell of Christmas in their home.

“Uh-huh. But he’s happier when he’s talking to Leon. Do you think they’ll smooch?”

“Oh, kiddo,” Daniel said, “they already did.”

Abby clapped her hands, delighted.

“Told you,” Jeff said, smugness on his face, looking very kissable himself.

Daniel stole one of those, then two gingerbread stars, dancing away when Jeff swatted at his hand. He shared the loot with Abby as he joined her at the breakfast counter. Soft music drifted in from the living room, the fire crackled, and he basked in the ambiance of his home.

Amber kept them updated on the long drive back from the airport. With the new additions, the family around Daniel had grown. Surely, there would be more bumps along the way, but he felt confident they’d manage to overcome them. Together.

After arriving in town safely, Amber made a final call so they could all wish each other a fun evening and to settle on a time for the next day. The dumplings wouldn’t make themselves after all.

Half an hour later, though, just as they were digging into their dinner, Daniel’s phone rang.

“Hey,” Leon said as soon as he picked up. “Do you have any idea where Nick might be? He’s not answering.”

Daniel motioned to Jeff to lean in so he could hear the conversation. “Didn’t Amber drop you off at his place?”

“She did, but I’ve been knocking for a while now. His phone’s been off, too. We figured he didn’t charge it. How concerned should I be? Should I…call someone?”

Jeff was out of his seat before Leon finished speaking. Daniel handed him the phone.

“What’s going on?” Abby asked in a small voice.

“We don’t know yet,” Daniel told her. “No reason to worry, though, okay?” He took her hand, offering her the most reassuring smile he could. There really was no point in alarming her if it turned out to be nothing. He encouraged her to continue eating, keeping an eye on her and an ear on Jeff’s side of the conversation.

“Okay,” Jeff was saying, “now take a left. There should be a pharmacy on the right, around the corner. Good, good, go past that. And then cross the street and go straight ahead. Yeah, that’s right, under the ivy. There’s a café there in the summer. You should see the park now. Okay, go to the left, then turn right, and then the second alley to the left again.”

He took a longer pause, and Daniel held his gaze in support when he looked over.

“He’s there,” Jeff said with a long breath. “Okay, call us if you need anything else.”

He kissed the top of Abby’s head when he returned to the table, smiled with a nod. “All’s good. Uncle Nick’s gonna get more smooches tonight.”

 

“IS THIS SEAT taken?”

Nick looked up to see Leon, standing there outlined by the muted glow of the nearby streetlight, and wondered idly if hallucinations were a symptom of anything. He shifted over. Leon didn’t disappear. Instead, he dropped his backpack against the bench and sat with a groan.

“Man, that thing’s heavy.”

Nick poked his arm. Solid. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what I’m doing here? We had plans, remember?”

He didn’t, actually. He would’ve. Nick rubbed at his cheek with his sleeve. “What?”

Leon frowned, more confused than upset. “Sara and Amber arranged for us to spend the rest of our vacation here. Scope out the town before our transfer, maybe find a place to rent. And then you and me—” He stopped when Nick wiped at his other cheek. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, too much so. “We were supposed to spend tonight together.”

“I didn’t know that,” Nick rasped. For the span of a breath, his mind was stuck on transfer.

With an aborted gesture and a half-bitten sound, Leon stood up. “We talked about this at the first lunch we had together. We’re going over to Daniel’s tomorrow to make dumplings.” He put a hand over his eyes, muttered, “I’m so stupid,” and Nick’s heart twisted.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. It was his fault, not Leon’s.

“What could have been more important than the plans we were making?” Leon asked, arms raised at his sides.

Nick opened his mouth and, instead of something sensible, said, “I was looking at you.”

It was high time this dream ended, and judging by how the vision of Leon froze there, it wouldn’t be much longer. Nick closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself to wait it out.

The air shifted with the rustle of clothes. Leon’s knee was warm against Nick’s thigh, his palm even more so on the chilled skin of his cheek. His thumb brushed Nick’s eyelashes, carrying away the wetness there. Nick shuddered.

“Take your time,” Leon whispered.

That, more than anything, made Nick look back at him. Dreams were never that considerate. Leon’s gaze was assessing, but there was no judgment in it, only patience.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” Nick croaked.

“For you, maybe,” Leon countered. “Imagine how hard I’m gonna tease you about this. Our children’s children will know the story. It will be told across generations.”

Nick’s breath stuttered at that, and he grabbed Leon’s wrist on instinct.

“Unless you don’t want to spend New Year’s with me,” Leon added, lower that time. “Or go on the dates I want to ask you on. In which case, it would be embarrassing for me.”

By the time he was finished, his hand was slack in Nick’s grip, and he was staring somewhere in the middle distance. Nick really wanted to smooth that crease between his eyebrows. Instead, he cradled Leon’s fingers in his palms, pressed his mouth to his knuckles.

“For New Year’s…what did you have in mind?”

Leon licked his lips. “Abby’s been singing your praises, so I was gonna convince you to cook. Then we’d watch the fireworks together. I’d kiss you at midnight, and then—”

“Then?”

“Whatever you’d let me have.”

“Let’s spend it together, then,” Nick said. “And we’ll see about the rest.”

Leon’s face cleared, and he gave a nod with a smile, but it was far from the mirth Nick had gotten used to seeing there. He stood, pulling at Leon’s hand.

“Come on, I have a dinner to cook.”

 

THERE WEREN’T ENOUGH ingredients at home to create a meal from scratch, but Nick had bought a roast which only needed heating; he could stir-fry veggies for a side dish. Some salad with tomatoes and cucumbers was easy to put together, too.

As he worked, Leon watched from one of the chairs at the kitchen table. It felt good to have company, and Nick allowed a fantasy of future food preparation to unfold. They’d be sweaty in the summer, fighting mosquitoes and trying to eat their weight in ice cream. It would smell like pumpkin in autumn. Maybe.

“Do you like pumpkin?” he asked Leon.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess pumpkin pie is nice.”

“Good.”

It was quiet again, for a bit, the pan sizzling, the knife falling intermittently onto the cutting board. When he turned off the stove, Leon helped set the table.

And then it got too quiet.

“Why were you crying, back in the park?”

Nick’s throat clicked audibly as he swallowed. For a fleeting moment, he considered denying it, but he’d been going into this—whatever it was—with Leon headfirst, no safety net, since the moment Leon walked out of that bathroom in only a towel. Nick squared his shoulders and turned to him.

“Because I was lonely, and because I was under the impression you thought of us as a brief fling.”

Leon huffed, looking to the side. “Nick,” he said, gripping Nick’s hand over the table corner. “I don’t run through the snow after just anybody. I don’t abandon my sister and my kids for a fling. I genuinely like you, and I think we might have a chance at something.”

Nick’s heart was in his throat; he didn’t remember his face being that hot. Ever.

“Hell,” he managed to choke out. “Warn a guy, would you?”

Leon smirked, but it started to slide off the longer Nick stared at him, helpless. Nick turned his hand and weaved his fingers through Leon’s. Most times, words failed him if he wasn’t writing them for other people, but right then, in that quiet moment, he knew what to say.

“You make me feel like a snowdrop.”

The corners of Leon’s lips quirked upward, half-wary.

“Safe and warm under the snow,” Nick continued. “Guiding me out. And even then, after I’m back in the light, I know you’ll hold me tight, keeping me upright. Until I’m ready to stand on my own.”

“Snowdrop, huh?” Leon was smiling. “And if I’m the snow in this scenario, what happens when I melt?”

Nick smiled back. “You’re not the snow. You are the spring.”

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Just to shut you up.” Leon shook his head. “It’s just not fair—”

“Okay.”

Leon moved, as if with single-minded focus, to press hot and hungry lips on Nick’s.

 

THERE WERE NO parties in Nick’s building, thankfully. People had gone into the streets for the midnight countdown, and fireworks banged about noisily for a while. He and Leon sat on the balcony to watch them together.

They met the first moment of the year sharing a breath.

Nick rolled his head onto the backrest of the chair, running a thumb over Leon’s where their hands were still clutched tight. Occasionally, voices carried up from the street, but it was peaceful, overall, much like it had been at the park. Wait.

“You said transfer, before.”

Leon laughed. “You missed that, too.”

“What,” Nick defended. “You were distracting me with your ridiculous flirting and your smile and your eyes and—”

“Okay, okay. I get it; I’m mesmerizing. But yes,” he said, growing serious. “Sara and Amber are aiming for the long run, and when a position opened over here, she snatched it. Convinced me to follow, not that it was hard. I usually go where she goes.”

“Where will you work?”

“Sara’s at the middle school, and I’m at the high school. Not looking forward to dealing with hormonal teenagers, but it’s the best I could find on such short notice, at least until a spot opens up at the elementary. I like working with that age group better.”

“Good luck with that,” Nick said sympathetically. “What subject will you teach?”

“Me and Sara, we’re both math.”

“Wow.”

Leon chuckled. “You thought I was just a pretty face?”

“No,” Nick hurried to say. “I saw you with the kids, and during the tournament, teaching them chess, you were really good at strategy—” He closed his mouth and pressed his lips together. So much for being smooth.

But Leon ducked his head, and Nick felt his ramblings were well received anyway.

He leaned down and in for a kiss.

And another.

Nick yawned.

“Lightweight,” Leon teased. “Let’s get you to bed. Do you mind if I wash up first?”

 

THEY ENDED UP taking turns in the shower, and as Nick pulled his pajamas on, Leon rummaged through his backpack. In only a towel. It was a thing with him, it seemed. When he finally found what he’d been looking for, he handed it over to Nick.

A blank journal. Nice, velvety covers, a pen tucked inside the spine.

“If you’re ever in the mood to write about yourself, or original stories, or whatever. Actually, wait.” Leon plucked it right back. He opened it, pulled the pen out, and scribbled something on the first page. “Here.”

To Snowdrop. Kisses, Spring.

Nick hugged it to his chest. “Do you ever stop?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No, definitely not.” His cheeks hurt from smiling. “Thank you. I don’t have a present for you, sorry.”

“Are you kidding me? You compared me to spring. My heart will never recover from that gift, and I’ll never let you live it down, either. You did this to yourself, pretty boy.”

Nick wanted to poke him in the side, face hot, but instead, he ended up splaying his fingers on the expanse of skin. His breath caught on an inhale.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Nick whispered.

“Me too. So, what do we do now?”

“We cuddle.”

They got under the covers and lay there like before, Nick on his back, Leon snuggled against him. The only thing Nick could think of, though, was the layers of cotton between them. Such a shame Leon had put a T-shirt on. His fingers tingled with the need to touch. He wanted to feel that warmth uninterrupted against his own.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” Leon said. He pushed himself up, leaning over Nick. “Out with it.”

Nick took a deep breath. “Can we be naked?”

“Sweaty naked or—?”

“No, just like this,” he explained as he ran his hand down Leon’s back, “but without clothes.”

Leon paused, considering, and in the end shook his head with a huff. “The things I do… Okay, off.”

Neither of them was very elegant as they squirmed out of their clothing underneath the blankets, but it didn’t matter. They pressed close, holding each other as tightly as they could. Brightness settled over Nick, unmistakable even with his eyes closed.

 

JEFF’S HOUSE STOOD in the middle of a clearing, at the edge of where the forest blended into their town at the foot of the mountains. Nick had been hearing of plans for it since childhood, how many stories it would have, what color the roof shingles would be… But it never failed to make his stomach flip every time he saw it. Jeff had built it after Nick had disappeared from his life, and being allowed inside, into this monument of what Jeff had accomplished on his own, was humbling. A warning—to not take the good in his life for granted, ever again.

“Are you all right?” Leon asked, standing next to him.

It had been snowing since midday, and now, with the lowering light of the winter afternoon, with the windows glowing in an orange hue, the home in front of him seemed taken out of a fairy tale. The image—its meaning—unspooled the tight knot of yearning hiding away at the back of his mind. For once, he wasn’t as afraid of it as he’d been.

“Yes,” he said. “I just realized how much I still want a family.”

The snow crunched under Leon’s feet. “It’s okay to want that.” He wrapped an arm around Nick’s waist and pulled his head down with the other to place a kiss on his forehead.

“But do I want to tempt fate again?”

Leon shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to see when the time comes. Or, you know, adopt.”

The softness within him expanded. “I really like you, you know that?”

Leon hummed, said, “Maybe you should provide some proof to that effect,” and Nick pulled him closer by the front of his jacket.

The kiss was short, sweet.

“One day, I’m going to get my hands on you,” Leon promised, something exquisitely filthy in his voice, “and then I’ll prove how much I like you.”

Nick couldn’t help himself. He grinned. “Sure, we can try that next year.”

“You,” Leon gasped, “must be a glutton for punishment because that definitely would kill me.”

Nick huffed, but as soon as the sound was out, it grew again in his chest until it turned into laughter. Leon dragged him forward, and he was still shaking with it when the door opened.

Light from inside spilled over them, encompassing, inviting.

Nick stepped through.

Being there, surrounded by this family on the first day of the year… Nick recognized it for what it was. A stepping-stone. He wasn’t going to delude himself that the mistakes of the past no longer had effects on their lives, but it felt like their damage was being repaired, bit by tiny bit, into something new. Something whole.

“Okay, who wants to fold the first one?” Daniel asked.

We should all do it together, Lauren’s voice whispered on the trail of a memory, and Nick repeated it out loud.

“We should all do it together.”

His fingers were busy, the combined joy of their gathering rising in the air when he let himself imagine her there with them. Maybe perched on the armrest of the sofa, hands extended toward the fire.

“Look,” Abby said. “You have to do it like this.”

“Show me again?” he asked.

Abby demonstrated, and Nick let the vision go.

He turned his attention to the present, to the people around him. To the press of Leon against his side, Jeff’s contentment, Abby’s laughter.

To life.