It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
Druig desperately wanted to take Makkari up on her offer and bolt. His feet were already numb from the cold, and he’d pocketed his earrings just in case. Thena had told him to flatter Makkari’s family- but the one who really mattered was her mother, Ajak, and accidentally disgusting her with his life decisions probably wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t think she’d be the type to judge him for having pierced ears, but his nerves were screaming at him to do something about his appearance. The house looked inviting enough- yellow siding, sagging porch, Christmas lights strung along the eaves. He was out of place in his black on black layers and permanent frown, like blight in a flower garden.
No one was going to believe their story. Makkari was happy, energetic, adventurous- Druig had spent his whole life having to force himself to shower because he couldn’t come up with the motivation. He loved Makkari, would follow her anywhere, but who would believe she felt the same?
Self deprecation wouldn’t get him anywhere, and Makkari needed a believable date. A real boyfriend wouldn’t be scowling up at his girlfriend’s house. Druig had never been good at theater, but that was due to his dancing skills, not his acting skills. He had been a veritable chameleon for most of his childhood- this holiday would be no different. Steeling himself, he let his knuckles bump against Makkari’s wrist in warning before he took her hand. He could do this. They could do this.
Makkari squeezed his hand in response, fingertips freezing, palm warm. A reassurance.
—————
Ajak was first and foremost solid. Solid arms wrapped around Druig’s shoulders, solid hands held his face, solid warmth permeated her voice as she greeted him. She wasn’t what he’d expected. Makkari was light, transient- but Ajak was rooted to the ground like the mountains, weathered but steady.
“Come inside, it’s cold out there. Dinner’s in the oven, so come down in an hour. You’ll be in Makkari’s room, she can show you.” Ajak spoke and signed at the same time, with a fluidity that told of years of practice.
Makkari practically leaped into her mother’s arms, and Druig shuffled to the side to give them room. The entryway was bright, a table topped with car keys and wallets to one side, shoes in a neat line on the other. Druig took the hint and untied his boots, setting them to dry by the door. Makkari followed suit, albeit haphazardly, kicking off her tennis shoes before grabbing his wrist.
As soon as her shoes were off, she was running, giving Druig no choice but to stumble after her. They passed blurry doorways, but Makkari didn’t slow, all but dragging him up narrow stairs and bursting into the first room on the left like the floor was burning. With the door shut firmly behind them, Makkari finally let go, a sudden absence of pressure that made him blink. She set her backpack on the bed and began to go through the motions of unpacking, so Druig let his eyes wander around the room they’d flown into. It was Makkari’s- he would have known it by the air alone, squeezing around his ribs like home. Her bed was pushed up against one wall, and her desk against the other, beneath a window. Shelves, like overstuffed pillows, teetered against all the remaining wall space. Books, boxes, trinkets, photos- a visual record of life, sedimentary rock, layered from floor to ceiling, Makkari’s attempts to preserve every moment in some physical form. He knew how important the tactile library of memories was to her- she had a similar setup in their apartment. He had never asked why she collected so much stuff, just as she didn’t ask about his barren walls, an unspoken agreement that some things were just better off private. Standing in her childhood bedroom felt like an invasion of that privacy, but she didn’t seem to mind. Dragging his gaze away from the towering bookshelves, Druig set his bag on the desk chair. He folded his jacket and set it on top of his bag before tapping Makkari on the shoulder.
What do you think your mom made for dinner?
It wasn’t what he wanted to ask, but at least it was something.
Probably lasagne. She makes it with zucchini noodles, but it tastes really good. You can put your earrings back in if you want, Mom won’t mind.
Druig knew his face was red from being caught in his nervous habit, but he fished the studs out of his pocket and put them back on anyway. They were a comforting presence, a reminder of his autonomy. A stupid sentiment to be attributed to metal stuck through his earlobes, but one he couldn’t shake. He’d gotten his ears pierced in his eighteenth birthday, overcoming his fear of needles just to prove that the body he was in finally belonged to him. Having them in kept him grounded, and he needed all the help he could get.
Do you think she bought it? He couldn’t help but ask.
Yes.
He longed to share Makkari’s certainty.
————-
Dinner went surprisingly well, all things considered. All things being that Druig and Makkari weren’t actually a couple, Makkari’s sister Sersi was Ikaris’s ex-girlfriend- currently dating a near carbon copy of him, a doctoral student from Olympia’s literature department named Dane- and that Phastos and Ben were so sickeningly perfect for each other it made Druig want to claw his eyes out. At least Makkari’s running commentary beneath the table kept getting more and more elaborate as she got bored. She almost knocked over her glass in an attempt to keep her hands hidden from Ajak’s knowing gaze, but Druig saw it coming and snagged her drink out of the way just before her elbow collided with it. They always moved like that- Druig around Makkari, Makkari around Druig. It was instinctive. Holding her glass, listening to the buzz of conversation rise and fall, he truly believed for the first time that maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off.
—————-
He was wrong. Very, very wrong. Makkari had called first shower, leaving Druig alone with his thoughts in her room. Ajak had made good on her promise to provide matching pajamas, but due to the short notice, they had each only received a pair of fuzzy grinch patterned pants. His were definitely going to be too big for him- Ajak had apparently not been informed that he was well below six feet tall- but Makkari had outshone the Christmas tree when she’d seen them, so he figured he could roll the waist and make it work. What he could not make work, by any stretch of the imagination, was their sleeping situation. One bed. A very small bed. It felt like a cheap romcom, something out of a hallmark movie. Thena had warned him, but he’d half hoped that Ajak would make him sleep on the sofa. He and Makkari had set rules in the car on their way down- no kissing unless it was previously discussed, hands on waist or shoulders only, and either one of them could tap out if they needed space. They had not set a rule regarding the bed. With Makkari in the shower and undoubtedly using up all the hot water, Druig did the only thing he could think of- he picked a side and plugged in his phone. He had an unread text from Kingo telling him to enjoy his break, so he typed out an appropriate response as he listened to the house settle for the night. To the left of Makkari’s room was Sersi’s, and he could just make out the soft notes of some Christmas pop station through the wall. Phastos was across the hall, but he and Ben had retired first and were silent. Ajak was downstairs, her steady footsteps shadowing the path between the kitchen and the living room. A dog barked, the trees settled, and the water shut off in the hall bathroom. Druig grabbed his shower bag, pajama pants, and a clean shirt, before sliding out the door as soon as Makkari entered. A shower would be a welcome distraction, although temporary.
——————
Static rose behind Makkari’s eyes as Druig shut the door behind him. She hated this. At dinner, for a moment, everything had been alright- as if there was no lying, no tension, just a family eating veggie lasagne- but now it was gone, and she was alone. Makkari had always been a good liar, because no one ever expected her to lie. Sersi was the golden child, Phastos was brilliant, and Makkari had an honest face. She’d used it to her advantage in highschool, but now it just felt like dipping her feet into dirty bath water that she knew needed to be drained. Falling back on old habits sucked.
There was hot water running through the walls, heat radiating from behind the plaster- Druig was in the shower. The floor shifted, probably Sersi and Dane getting in bed. The neighbor’s lights shut off, and the smell of cinnamon wafted through the vents- Ajak was downstairs, baking. A standard night, peaceful. Except the static kept creeping in the corners of her vision. So much could go wrong- Ajak could hate her, or worse, hate Druig. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he was just devastatingly loyal. And kind, even if he thought he hid it well. He couldn’t hide much from her.
The heat behind the wall was dissipating, a gentle heads up that Druig would be coming in soon. Makkari noted his phone plugged in on the left side of the bed, so she pulled back the blankets and curled up on the right. He’d gone rigid when he saw the small bed, but seemed to calm down at dinner. Makkari wasn’t really worried about sharing a bed- she’d lost track of how many times they’d passed out on some impromptu surface together. Usually they made it to the couch, but once she’d woken up on top of Druig in a frat house bathtub. The smell of the memory alone was almost enough to make her gag- sweat, 18-in-1 soap, cheap alcohol, and mildew. At least Druig was there with her, eliminating the fear of waking up somewhere unfamiliar. As long as he was there, she was safe.
So she wasn’t really worried, but she was a bit nervous- Druig had been her other half since freshman year, and she didn’t want anything that happened because of her shortcomings to push him away.
—————
Makkari was curled up under the blankets when Druig pushed open her bedroom door, half asleep already. She acknowledged him with a bleary blink. He didn’t know why sharing a bed was putting him on edge- they’d fallen asleep tangled up together more times than he could count. He ran cold, and Makkari was extremely tactile, so when exhaustion set in, they gravitated towards each other. This was no different. Thena was just messing with his head.
Good night, Makkari.
She smiled, half signing a response, before he turned the light off, effectively ending their communication for the night. He could just make out the curve of her shoulder by the glow of the streetlight outside. The steady rise and fall betrayed her exhaustion, so he steeled his nerves before pulling back the covers and settling beside her. In the dark, it was easier to pretend that everything was fine. Easier to pretend that they were passing out on the sofa after a movie marathon, easier to pretend that the tightness in his chest was because his shirt was twisted, easier to pretend that he’d wake up to the smell of coffee and Makkari’s cinnamon protein oats. Beside him, she shifted closer, just like she always did. The warmth was comforting, familiar, and Makkari’s even breathing blended together as sleep washed over him.