Merry and Bright

aka the christmas fic

The Allens and the Lamberts have been neighbors and close friends since the dawn of time, though no one can really tell why, because they have virtually nothing in common. Their kids grew up together, were the best of friends, and left for college at about the same time. Now, with all children grown up and moved away, the parents seem to be tighter than ever. At least that’s what Kris thinks when he goes home for Christmas.

His mother has been preparing the meal all day, and Mrs. Lambert arrived with her arms full of dishes that afternoon. It’s a tradition for the two families to have the Christmas dinner together, just like it’s tradition for the ladies to gossip all day while cooking and the men to hang out at the Lamberts’ house, keeping out of the way.

Every year, Kris expects things to be different when he comes back, but every year they stay the same. No matter how much his life changes, home is always just like he left it.

The dinner is a boisterous affair, people talking all at once, his father’s laughter filling the room. Kris finds himself smiling all the way through it. His eyes keep drifting to his right, where an energetic Adam is telling Daniel a story, hands flailing around, and he has to tear them away forcefully every time.

Adam hasn’t changed either. He is still—beautiful, strong, radiant—the same.

Adam usually brings a boyfriend to these gatherings. And Kris usually brings Katy. This year, neither of them have a significant other with them, and he is sure Adam knows about he and Katy’s break up in great detail, just like he knows about Adam and Brad’s. Their mothers are a busy duo. They make sure to mention things to them in casual conversation.

Kris isn’t sure if this is better or worse.

Having Katy with him was better, because she reminded him constantly that he wasn’t alone. But it was also worse, because Adam and Katy in the same room was the perfect setting for him to compare the two, and those comparisons never came up in Katy’s favor. Adam’s lack of a boyfriend is—well, there is no bad there. Only maybe the temptation. Not that Kris will act on it. Not after all these years. That would make no sense.

Adam always knew he was gay, and Kris always knew Adam was gay, because he and Adam practically shared a brain back then. It didn’t mean a lot to Kris until Adam moved away and Kris didn’t have him all to himself anymore. Suddenly he had no Adam and everyone else who tried to fill his place came up short. And that first Christmas back, when Adam showed up with his boyfriend—well, let’s just say Kris didn’t give himself alcohol poisoning over nothing.

Adam meets his eyes over Daniel’s head and gives him a huge smile, and Kris finds himself mirroring it. Seeing Adam is like joy and torture intertwined together, the feeling leaves Kris breathless and shaken every time. It always takes a month for the radiance of Adam’s picture to fade in Kris’ mind and only after that can Kris return to his normal, Adam-less life. He should call January his Adam month.

He helps clear the dishes just to have something to do with himself, and perches on the arm of his mother’s chair as they open the presents. He hangs out with his father and Mr. Lambert for a while, talking about sports, watching from the corner of his eye as Adam and Neil have a whispered conversation at the other side of the room. After 45 minutes of nodding his head to one man or the other, he thinks he did a great job of acting cool and normal and decides to reward himself by slipping away into the backyard and leaning against his favorite tree to breathe a little.

It’s surprising, how little oxygen there is in that house.

“Bored already?”

Kris stiffens and then hopes Adam didn’t notice it. Not that he’s ever seen Adam miss anything before.

He turns to face Adam with a smile. “Just getting some air.”

Adam comes closer, joining him under the tree, one of the lower branches brushing his shoulder. His eyes look unnaturally bright in the moonlight.

“I wanted to give you your gift,” Adam says.

“Oh,” Kris says, surprised. He didn’t know they’d be exchanging gifts. They haven’t done that in years.

He looks down, but there’s nothing in Adam’s hands. When he looks back up, Adam’s face looks serious.

“It’s an offer,” Adam says.

Kris’ heart starts beating madly in his chest.

Adam takes a step closer to him. “I know I haven’t been making this up. I know it’s real. And I know you won’t deny it. But…”

Adam looks away really quick, like it’s too hard to keep the eye contact. Kris doesn’t even blink.

“Maybe it’s too late,” Adam continues. “Maybe you don’t want it. I mean, we both know that there’s wanting it and then there’s wanting it. And that’s okay, too. Time, missed chances, whatever. I just. I can’t just never try it.”

Adam reaches a hand to Kris’ cheek, barely touching, and then chuckles softly. “I can see the shock, but I can’t tell if it’s good shock or bad shock,” he says with a smile. Then his smile slips away; he lets out a breath and brings their lips together.

Kris’ eyes close the second they touch, and he can’t breathe or move or think until Adam lets go of him. He finds himself gasping softly as Adam takes a step back, licking his lips, and stands there blinking up at Adam’s face as if he just woke up from a deep sleep and isn’t sure if he’s still dreaming or not.

“I have this,” Adam says, pulling a squished piece of mistletoe out of his pocket. “So you can take this and we’ll say it was the mistletoe’s fault.”

Kris looks at the tiny, misshapen mess of leaves, looking funny and lost in Adam’s hand. “Or?” he asks.

“Or you can come with me next door. To my room. Where there’s no one else. And a door that locks.”

Adam doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks dead serious. And he doesn’t look very hopeful either. In fact, he looks more nervous than Kris has ever seen him. The silence stretches between them, and Adam finally puts the mistletoe in Kris’ hand.

“Either way we’re okay,” he tells Kris. “We’re best friends. Forever and ever.” He is smiling, but Kris thinks he’s never seen Adam look sadder.

Adam turns to go, and that’s when Kris’ body finally remembers that it can move. He drops the mistletoe and grabs Adam’s hand. Adam looks at him, blue eyes big and expectant, and Kris feels his heart beating in his throat. He tries to talk a couple of times to no avail, and then smiles and makes a gesture that he hopes says I have no fucking idea where my voice is. When he gets himself under control, he croaks out one word. “Really?”

Adam’s smile is like a flower blooming in the moonlight. “Yes,” he says, nodding enthusiastically.

Kris grins up at him. “Okay.”

The End

September 9th, 2009