“Christ, Lan. You are one of the most hardworking men I’ve ever met. You deserve to be proud of the work you do. There are young queer people out there, watching you live their dream. You make it seem possible for them, and that matters.” It pissesme off that his dad does this so often. As a father, he should be celebrating Harlan’s accomplishments. Lan got his work ethic from watching his father, so I know it fucks with him when Noah shits all over his work. “I’m so sorry he did that to you.”
“Mum tried to convince me to stay, and I feel guilty about leaving Millie, but I’m not doing it anymore. I promised Mum I would meet her in London for a bit after the New Year, but I won’t be going back to the house again. Not unless my father apologizes, and we both know that will never happen.” He releases a big yawn against my skin. “Thank you for letting me crash your Christmas.”
“It’s our Christmas, sweetness. You know my family will always welcome you, and they love you exactly as you are. Why did you text my sister and not me?” The answer isn’t relevant—not really—but I want him to know he can count on me.
“I wanted to make sure it was a good idea. I didn’t want you to feel obligated, and I knew she’d be honest with me,” he says, his words beginning to slur as sleep pulls him under.
“Harlan, having you here isn’t an imposition. I would never want you to be alone on Christmas. Get some sleep, I’m not going anywhere.” I kiss the top of his head while stroking softly up and down his spine. His breathing evens out, soft and steady against my neck, and sleep finds me easily, with Harlan in my arms.
Soft kisses on my neck wake me up, and instinct has me leaning into the touch, with a quiet moan. My veins are on fire with anticipation before I can entirely understand what’s happening. I tighten my grip on Harlan’s bare hip, where the pants he’swearing have slid down. “Hi there,” I gasp as he nips at the skin under my jaw. My cock is uncomfortably hard and leaking already as his thigh grinds insistently against it.
“You taste so good.” His words are a caress on my skin, as he moves his mouth to mine. He stops just shy of kissing me. “Is this ok?” His hesitance won’t do. I grab his face with my free hand, pulling his lips to me. Things get heated quickly as he gifts me with his needy noises and the relentless press of his own erection into my hip.
“Kissing you is more than ok. It will always be one of my favorite things.” Harlan smiles softly at my confession before taking my mouth with his again. He starts grinding more insistently against my hip. Starting something with my family in the house seems like a terrible idea, but his urgency is fueling my own. “Fuck, you’re making this incredibly difficult,” I grunt.
“Papito!Harlan!Dinner!” My mom’s voice on the other side of the door may as well be a bucket of ice water. Harlan starts to giggle into my chest. “Cover up, because I’m coming in.” Harlan adjusts the pants that slipped down his waist. With no further warning, my door swings open, and Mama is standing there with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“We’re coming, Mama,” Harlan says sweetly, sitting up and offering her a brilliant smile. She returns an indulgent smile at this beautiful boy in my bed.
“Not in a fun way,” I grumble. He smacks my chest before following my mother into the hallway, his laughter trailing behind him.
After dinner, Harlan insists on a quick trip to his apartment. I drive him, suggesting that he pack some clothes to sleep in, since Mama told him he’d be spending the night. Antonella and Enrique pout at having to wait longer to open gifts, but with a sharp look from our mother, they quickly closed their mouths.
“I’ll be right back,” Harlan says, opening the door before I’ve even put the car in park. He hauls his suitcase from the back seat, declining my help, before hurrying into his building. I smile at his retreating figure. I can’t think of a better way to end Christmas than with him in bed next to me. When he readily agreed to stay the night, I couldn’t hide my excitement.
Twenty minutes later, the back door opens, and a huffing Harlan is dropping several bags into the back seat. “Do I want to know?” I smirk in the rearview at his frazzled expression.
“Gifts,” he puffs out. “I was going to ship the stuff to your family when I got back from London, but since they’re here, I figured I’d bring them.” He flops into his seat before buckling his belt. My family has a stack of gifts for him under my tree, and I can’t wait to watch him be spoiled by people who love him.
Once we’re all settled around the tree, Mama starts handing out gifts. She still labels our gifts from Santa, making all four of us smile. Harlan flushes as he thanks everyone for the unexpected presents, and when he finally gets to my gifts, my nerves kick in. There’s no reasonable explanation, but my palms start sweating anyway. He treats me to a soft smile as he opens the slippers. He slips on the neon green atrocities—which he loves immensely, obviously—before moving to the set of perfumes.
“You always pick the best fragrances.” He opens a few, smelling them before passing them to my sister, who sprays her favorite on her wrists, before handing the bottles back. “Thank you, Dare. I love all of them.” Surprising me, he slides closer and kisses my cheek. He hands me two elaborately wrapped gifts. My name is on the labels in his impeccable handwriting. It brings back memories of him surrounded by boxes and several different wrapping paper rolls each Christmas.
Gift giving is Harlan’s love language, so he always looked forward to Christmas and birthday celebrations. He used toshop months in advance, buying things the moment he realized someone would love them. Our closets were always full of things that he forgot he purchased, until it came time to wrap. I was on tape duty because I can’t wrap a perfectly square box without fucking it up.
It feels like a sin to ruin the paper, so I tear through the first one carefully. Harlan cannot contain his giggle as I pull out a book. A cookbook, to be exact. “Baking Pies for Beginners,”I read aloud. His giggle turns into an outright cackle as he tells my family how I ruined the pumpkin pie. “Hilarious, Lan. You missed your calling as a comedian.” He shrugs as my mom and sister join in on the laughter.
The next gift is heavier. I tear the paper just as gingerly, revealing a framed painting of Craig and me running in the park. It occurs to me that he must have snapped this on one of our morning runs. “One of Penelope’s friends is an artist. Painting, obviously,” he says.
“It’s perfect, sweetness,” I assure him. The only thing that would make it better is if he were in the picture, too. One day. “The details are incredible. Thank you so much.” I place the painting to the side and pull him against me for a kiss.
“Best Christmas ever,” Antonella squeals. I murmur my agreement against his lips, and he smiles in return.
“Merry Christmas, Dare,” he whispers. It’s definitely a Merry Christmas.
Christmas with Darío’sfamily made me feel supported and loved in a way that I never would have gotten with my parents. More specifically, my father. My mum has reached out a few times to check on me, but I’ve not heard from my dad at all. It doesn’t surprise me. He’s stubborn and incapable of admitting fault and undoubtedly believes I owe him an apology for disrespecting him. It’s a never-ending battle, where everyone loses.
Once all of the gifts were opened and the garbage cleaned, we all settled in the living room to play board games. Mama made her hot chocolate, and Dare kept me pinned against his side for the entire night. It was perfect in every single way. I’ve not slept as well since I came home, and I have only seen him once since the day after Christmas, when he drove me home. Now that I’m going to see him tonight for New Year’s, I’m starting to freak out a bit.
My anxiety is through the roof as I take in the heap of clothes piled haphazardly in the middle of my bed. I can’tdecide what to wear, which has led to the mess before me. Do I go casual? Slutty? Is that too presumptuous? I decide I need reinforcements in the form of Wes and Penny.
Me
Hi. I need help.
Wes
Don’t you have a therapist for that?
