The room responds with a chorus of greetings, some enthusiastic, others still cautious. Slowly, both guys visibly relax, their grip on each other loosening slightly as tentative smiles replace their anxious expressions.
"There's space by the window," Drew tells them, pointing to an unclaimed blanket nest. "Help yourselves to food, we've got plenty."
"Thanks," Miguel says, his voice thick with what sounds suspiciously like relief. "We appreciate it."
As they enter the room, they move together rather than apart under the curious stares. I hear Danny whisper, "See? I told you they'd be cool."
Tyler is watching the guys with a particularly intense expression. More than most of us, he understands what it means to find yourself on the wrong side of assholes in EBM. When the couple walks by him, he gives them a small nod that says everything.
Across the room, Emily catches my eye and gives me a thumbs up, her smile wide and approving. The first refugees from the homophobic frat next door have found sanctuary, and on Christmas Eve no less. It's almost too on-the-nose to be real.
Ian emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "James, we need more hands for food prep. The popcorn situation is getting out of control."
"Popcorn situation?" The three of us head back toward the kitchen.
"Ya'll found more people than we expected, and apparently, movie night requires popcorn in quantities I've never seen before."
The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity. Cameron and Brian are operating three popcorn makers simultaneously, with kernels occasionally flying out when one overflows. Emily directs sorting operations, with separate bowls for toppings: butter, caramel, and something that looks suspiciously like Sriracha.
"We're also running out of serving dishes," Drew says, pulling open cabinets. "Any ideas?"
Scanning the kitchen, I'm thinking. "Check with Rex upstairs. He has that collection of weird souvenir plates from every state."
Drew nods. "Good call. How's the stray-collecting going?"
"Pretty well. We found a Japanese exchange student abandoned at the student center. His roommate ditched him."
Drew shakes his head. "Man, that sucks. What about you? Usual plans this year?"
Hesitating, I'm busy sorting through the cabinet for more bowls. "I was thinking of sticking around here. Last few years I've volunteered at Rainbow Haven House for Christmas Day, but..."
"But this year there's Caleb," Drew finishes for me.
"He's leaving tomorrow morning for his family thing, but yeah. Thought I'd hang here until he leaves."
"How's he doing with that? The family visit?"
Finding a stack of plastic containers, I hand them to Drew. "Not great. His dad's ramping up campaign stuff, so he's under more pressure than usual."
"That whole situation sounds rough," Drew says, lowering his voice. "Tyler mentioned, no details but... an incident a few years back?"
Tensing automatically. Caleb hasn't shared many details with anyone, but apparently, he told Tyler. "It's not my story to tell."
Drew nods, understanding immediately. "Totally. Just... keep an eye on him, okay? Family stuff can hit hard during the holidays."
"Yeah." My stomach knots at the thought of Caleb heading off alone tomorrow. "I know."
The kitchen door swings open, and Gavin enters triumphantly. "I solved the dish crisis," he announces, holding up what appears to be a collection of frisbees. These are clean, I swear."
"Frisbees?" Drew asks, looking skeptical.
"They have edges. Food stays on. Problem solved," Gavin says with the confidence of someone who has never been wrong about anything.
Emily appears behind him, sighs, but nods. "At this point, we'll take it. James, can you put together a quick playlist for between movies? Something festive but not too... jingling bells?"
"On it."
An hour later, the living room has transformed into a sea of blankets, pillows, and bodies sprawled in every possible configuration. The potluck spread takes up two tables, featuring everything from Emily's perfectly arranged Christmas cookies to what Taj has proudly labelled "India-Meets-America Fusion Stuffing" to a mound of pizza rolls someone dumped on, yes, a frisbee.
