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Winter in Ketterdam was frankly awful. The perpetual fog that hung over the city became bitingly cold, drenching your clothes subtly so that you didn’t even realise you had icy water pressed against your skin until you took off a coat or jacket and felt the beads of damp welling under your fingers. There was no sunlight before ten in the morning, and it barely rose above the skyline before meandering below the horizon again sometime after lunch. Wylan hated the end of the year in Kerch, preferring to spend it all indoors by yellow lamplight, playing his flute and experimenting with some of his less explosive materials in the warmth of the Van Eck mansion.
However, while Jesper may not have been what one would call perceptive, Wylan’s misery was especially noticeable, and his boyfriend didn’t like to see him so glum. Hi skin grew even paler from the weeks indoors, and the freckles that Jesper loved so much faded away as well, until he looked blotchy and unwell.
Wylan was set to simply endure another season of grey days and boredom in Kerch when one morning over breakfast, Jesper made an interesting suggestion.
“Why not come back to Novyi Zem?” he said.
Wylan paused as he took a sip of tea, and put down the cup carefully.
“Why would we do that?”
“You forget that the continent works on a different timezone,” Jesper explained, “and that the main benefit is opposing seasons. It’s summer for the Zemenis right now. Longest days of the year.”
Wylan’s jaw dropped, and Jesper gave him a pleased grin.
“I hadn’t even considered that before.”
“Of course you hadn’t, Wy. You’ve never been, have you?”
“No, but I would love to. Are you saying we could spend the winter in the sun rather than here?”
“Absolutely.” Jesper reached across the table with his long arms, and took Wylan’s skinny hand in his own. “We can go back to Cofton and stay on the farm with Da. He’d love to see us both again, I know it. You can experience a real Zemeni Christmas.”
“Can we do it? Leave Ketterdam, I mean. I don’t know who would take care of the house while we were gone, and are there even boats from here to Novyi Zem at this time of year?”
“You forget we are friends with a pirate, sunshine.” Jesper gave him another cheeky grin, and Wylan clapped a hand over his eyes. “Everything can be sorted at some point. What matters is whether we want to do this.”
“I really do,” Wylan said. He had never considered the possibility of seeing another land at such short notice, and especially not of being part of Jesper’s family like this. It was a dream.
“Finish your breakfast then, and we can start talking to people.”
“You finish your breakfast.”
“I’ll finish yours if you don’t hurry up.”
“Leave my toast alone.”
***
Wylan realised for the first time just how many people he knew in Ketterdam now. For the first fifteen years of his life, he had been locked away as the petty secret of Jan Van Eck. Now, however, he was a leading mercher and part-time gang member, meaning he had plenty of connections everywhere from the offices of the Ketterdam embassies to the grunts of the Dregs. It wasn’t difficult for him to meet up with some of his upper class associates to ask about the social etiquette when it came to leaving a house on the Geldstraat for a prolonged period of time. He was assured that merchers took plenty of holidays and that it wouldn’t affect their social standing within the community – something that Kaz took more seriously than either he or Jesper did. Wylan was also given some useful advice on how seriously to take security of the empty house.
“There are a number of opportunistic gangs who will take every occasion to at least snoop around, if not take things,” he was told by Count Koning. “Be careful to make sure your windows and doors are triple-locked and guarded.”
Privately, Wylan was less concerned about the security issue. Being part of an opportunistic gang himself, he felt sure that Kaz and the rest of the Dregs would watch their back while they were gone. But he did drop into the Slat to make that specific request of Kaz, who begrudgingly said he would have some men guard it.
Then came the actual trip. Jesper had gotten in touch with Nina, who was in Ravka with Matthias, and through her they had gotten a letter to Inej, whose ship was currently making her way along the coastline around Os Kervo. A week later and they had a reply: she would be docking at Berth 22 a few days from the time the letter arrived. From there, she would be making her way to Eames Harbour, up the side of Novyi Zem, and on to the Bone Road. And she would be happy to take on two extra passengers.
The Wraith arrived at Fifth Harbour early on the morning that she was scheduled to arrive. Wylan and Jesper went sleepily down to the docks, still in their nightclothes with heavy winter coats thrown over the top, and met a much better-dressed Kaz, who was nervously thumbing the head of his cane and scowled at them over their outfit choices.
“Inej has been on a ship with no running water for the past month, Kaz,” Jesper said. “She’s not going to look too pretty herself.”
Kaz raised his eyebrow at that, and Wylan shared an amused look with his boyfriend. The three of them watched the ship land, and Inej herself appeared at the side to throw a rope down to Kaz, who tied it in place. She came down the gangplank as soon as she had set it in place, and greeted Wylan and Jesper warmly with hugs. He wasn’t going to say it, but Jesper had been completely right: as Wylan hugged her tightly, the smell of unwashed bodies and sea air floated up from her clothing.
They both stepped back so that Inej could greet Kaz, and he actually offered himself for a hug too. She wrapped her arms around him, and Kaz ran a gloved hand down her back softly.
“I’m docking here for a week before we head off for Novyi Zem,” Inej said. “I want some time to see everyone.” Her eyes were on Kaz as she said this, and Wylan took it as their sign to go back home and wake up properly.
Inej’s arrival in Ketterdam certainly made those final days in the grey city more fun. They visited the Crow Club for drinks and card games, and Inej stayed with them in the Van Eck mansion for a few nights. She complimented them on how they had kept the house so nice, and mentioned how lovely it was to stay in a proper bed for the first time in so long. Of course, Inej was more frequently with Kaz, and Wylan was perfectly happy for her to be apart from the rest of them for the week she had with her partner.
The morning of the voyage arrived, and Wylan spent another few frantic hours packing his luggage with far more clothing than he probably needed. Jesper reminded him of how hot it would be in Novyi Zem at this time of year, and persuaded him to take out a few of his jackets. They met Inej at the ship, and she helped them to load their bags. Kaz waved them off from the dock, promising to keep Berth 22 clean for when they came home, and didn’t make the walk back to the Slat until they were too far away to see his monochrome figure on the grey streets.
Wylan didn’t take to sea life well. He was ill for most of their first days on board, and Jesper and Inej spent many hours between then encouraging him to eat and take walks out in the bracing air. Fortunately, the voyage was fairly smooth and there were no additionally challenging waters to trouble him. That being said, he was very glad to be back on dry land five days later when they docked at Eames Harbour.
The change had been gradual as they passed through the ocean that isolated Kerch, but Wylan hadn’t noticed the shift in temperature and day length until they were stood under a hot sun on the pier at Eames. Jesper was wearing appropriate attire – royal blue shorts and a burgundy shirt which he had tied in a knot above his navel – but Wylan was still in the double-lined shirts and trousers that he wore in Ketterdam. Before Inej left with the ship once more, Wylan ducked into his cabin to change into a plain shirt and cuffed trousers instead. He rejoined Jesper and Inej on the harbour, and saw that Colm Fahey had just now arrived on a horse and cart, and was hugging Jesper firmly.
“Adjusting to the weather?” he chuckled as Wylan walked down from the ship, already aware of his pale arms and legs compared to his company. Even Kaelish Colm was tanned golden from the Zemeni sun.
“We’re here for a roasting, Da, and we’ll make sure those freckles come back by the time we’re back on The Wraith.” Jesper slung his arm over Wylan’s shoulder and stroked his thumb over his cheek. Wylan resisted his natural urge to blush, and just smiled up at Jesper with affection.
“Ready to hop on? Inej got your bags on there already.”
Wylan sighed at the thought of several hours in the back of a cart, and Jesper heard him.
“At least your legs aren’t as long as mine,” he said, reaching around to pinch at his pale thighs. “I’m going to be scrunched up like a one kruge note in the back, there.”
It was indeed an uncomfortable few hours. Wedged in between their luggage and the knapsack of food Colm had packed to keep them going, it was hard to talk or play card games with the constant jolting of the cart and the noise of the wheels on unevenly tiled roads. Fortunately, after the days of learning to sleep through the lurching of his stomach on the ship, Wylan was able to drop off and snooze against Jesper’s chest for a lot of the journey, and only awoke to take sips of tepid water from the flask in the bag and feel Jesper run a hand through his fiery curls.
They finally approached Cofton just as the sun was beginning to set, and Wylan woke up enough to lean out from under the shades and look up at the enormous sun as it cast beautiful golden light over the fields they drove past.
“Yeah, it’s amazing here,” Jesper said, his voice sleepy. They both shifted to sit with their legs hanging from the back of the cart, arms around each other as they watched the light shift from yellow to orange, admiring the pink clouds as they sunk lower on the horizon.
Finally, they arrived at the Fahey’s family farm. It was a lovely-looking squat wooden building, surrounded on all sides by the rusty jurda blossoms that filled their land. Wylan felt as though he had stepped into a photograph. This land was all bright tropical colours, warmth and light – it didn’t quite feel real. Or maybe that was the days of travel finally catching up with him.
“You boys can sleep in Jes’ old room,” Colm said, shouldering their bags and taking them inside. “The bed’s big enough, and I won’t bother you.”
“Da!” Jesper protested, but his father just chuckled and unlocked the door, disappearing inside.
“Put away the horse for me, boys!”
Jesper tutted and stretched out his arms, revealing more of his beautiful brown stomach. Wylan slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to Jesper’s chest.
“Can’t believe I’m here with you,” he said, burying his face against Jes’ silky shirt. Jesper lowered his arms and held Wylan close, kissing the top of his head.
“Me neither, sunshine.”
Jesper showed him how to decouple the cart from the saddle, and together they put away the equipment and changed the horse’s hay. It gave a soft whinny as Wylan patted its velvety flank, and Jesper smiled as he inhaled deeply. With his eyes closed and his soft dark eyelashes fanned against his face in the dim light of the stable, Wylan thought he looked like some kind of statue made to Ghezen. He looked holy.
“I missed the smell of the farm,” Jesper murmured, his eyes still closed. “I like the city, but nothing is like life here.”
Wylan walked over and slipped his hands into Jesper’s. Jesper looked at him, his irises golden, and smiled as he leaned forwards, brushing his nose against Wylan’s. Wylan lifted a hand to cup Jesper’s cheek as they kissed, soft and firm, bathed in gold and the sweet warm smell of the hay. Jesper held Wylan so gently, always, like he was something precious. He melted against his lips, smiling as Jesper lowered his hands to tap his butt lightly. They pulled apart, and it was clear that they were admiring each other equally in the fading light.
“Bedtime?” Wylan whispered.
“I don’t know if I want to sleep yet,” Jesper grinned, kissing him on the lips again.
“I kind of do…”
“Then we’ll sleep. We have so much time here. Plus Da will be out working the fields every day until Christmas, so we’ll have the house to ourselves, and—”
“Stop making yourself more excited,” Wylan chuckled.
“Okay fine, yes. Want me to carry you to bed?”
“I’m not going to say no.”
Jesper scooped him up in his long arms, and Wylan felt the swell of his biceps against the back of his legs. He kissed Jes on the cheek as he walked them into the house, closing the door with an unfortunate clatter and swearing a little as they made their way to Jesper’s childhood bedroom.
It was sparsely furnished, containing only a dresser and double bed. But the decorations were something else. Bright paintings covered every wall, including the ceiling as Wylan saw when Jesper laid him down on the bed. Everything was swirling with colours and patterns, some clear pictures while others were simply abstract smears of wonderful hues and shades.
“That was Ma,” Jesper whispered, taking off his shirt and falling on the bed beside him. Wylan took off his shirt and trousers too before shuffling under the covers. “She always said that being zowa allowed her to feel the colours more intensely. She said my room had to be the most intense one in the house. I love being in here.”
“I love it in here too,” Wylan murmured. He turned to Jesper in the dark, laying his hand over his boyfriend’s heart. He could feel the warm thump of it quicken slightly, and he leaned over to kiss him again, gently.
They fell asleep like that, pressed against each other, mouths inches apart.
***
There were a few days to go before Christmas actually arrived, and Wylan fully embraced the Zemeni lifestyle. He got up before the sun had fully risen to make the most of the cool mornings, normally awoken by Jesper wriggling in his sleep or the sound of Colm making breakfast in the kitchen. They ate little and often, and Wylan could feel his energy returning after the sluggishness of hibernation in Ketterdam. Sometimes he and Jesper would help out in the jurda fields, watering them with great buckets pulled from the well behind the house, or picking the little orange flowers when they reached maturity. He ended up with stained fingers and knees from the hours of walking through the little colourful flowers.
But most of the time, he and Jesper just enjoyed the warmth and sunlight. They went for walks along the edge of the Fahey’s land, sweating through their shirts and taking them off when it got too hot, then got back to the house and ate fresh fruits on the porch, feeling happily at one with the landscape. Colm kept a vegetable patch as well, and they would go out to pick the available produce and bring it inside for lunches. They would run cold baths and wedge themselves in their together, kissing lazily as they cooled off and enjoyed the feeling of their hot skin pressed against the other.
Wylan knew nothing of a winter like this, one where you were more likely to shiver from the bead of sweat falling down your back than from the aching chills of a Ketterdam storm. He watched his face grow less and less pale in the mirror hung by the door of Jesper’s room, and admired the swirls of freckles that bloomed all over his back and limbs. Everything about him got darker, and even Jesper glowed more than usual in the constant sunlight.
But finally, it was the night before Christmas. Colm had told Wylan about his present for Jesper, and asked if Wylan wanted to make it a joint gift. Although Wylan was touched to be invited to share in that exchange, he politely declined. Wylan had already got something for Jesper, and was very pleased with it. They prepared for the day itself by making up decorations with old scraps of fabric from Colm’s especially worn-through shirts, and tying them to the fir tree that he had brought back from a market in Cofton. Colm found a bottle of spirits he had been keeping for a special occasion, and they sat outside the house in large straw hats studded with jurda flowers, sipping the strong tawny liquor and sighing pleasantly in the heat.
“I have to ask,” Wylan said as they gently perspired under the midday heat, “what is the stance on Christmas jumpers over here?”
Colm and Jesper both laughed, and Wylan grinned at them both through half-lidded eyes.
“You wear a Christmas jumper, and we won’t both reviving you,” Colm chuckled.
“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it,” Wylan smiled.
Wylan climbed into bed beside Jesper with an excitement he hadn’t felt in a while. Christmas hadn’t been the most exciting affair in the Van Eck household – what with his father being permanently disappointed in him and the upper class snobbery that ruled their behaviour meaning that all his presents were boring or unusable and the meals were dominated by polite inquiries about the health of relatives with other mercher compatriots. But now he was in Novyi Zem, with his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s family, to celebrate it in a way he never had before. There was so much to look forward to, even if Jesper’s own excitement meant that the bed was rocking with his restlessly shaking limbs.
“Stop that,” Wylan murmured, rolling on top of Jesper to stop him bouncing.
“You stop it.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re squishing me, Wy.”
“Only because you wouldn’t stop it.”
“I’ll kiss you.”
“Go on. Do it. Bet you won’t.”
Jesper rolled them back over so that he was on top of Wylan, kissing him warmly. Wylan wrapped himself around Jesper’s solid form, sliding one hand up to cup his jaw as Jesper slipped his tongue into Wylan’s mouth with a soft groan.
With a boyfriend like this, Wylan wasn’t sure there was any better gift he could get the following day.
***
He woke up later than he’d intended, his head on Jesper’s chest and a hand lazily perched on his backside. Wylan looked up blearily, and saw the first golden rays of sunlight peeking in through the slats of Jesper’s blinds.
“Jes,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to Jesper’s chest. “Wake up. It’s Christmas.”
There was a loud inhale, and Jesper lifted his head as he opened one eye.
“There’s already been a miracle,” Jesper murmured. “There’s a naked angel in my bed.”
Wylan giggled and nuzzled into Jesper’s chest again.
“Nooo, look at me again. I know you’re blushing, let me see your cute face.”
Wylan looked up. Jesper had both eyes open now and was biting his lip with a grin.
“Hi handsome,” Wylan said, leaning forwards and pecking him on the lips.
“That’s it, the day is perfect. Merry Christmas, let’s go back to sleep.”
“Stop it,” Wylan laughed, waking up more. He rolled off of Jesper and sat up, grabbing his nightclothes from the floor and putting them on.
“Shame,” Jesper said. “I was enjoying the view.”
“I can still enjoy it,” Wylan replied, reaching over and poking Jesper’s soft stomach. He gave a yelp and a laugh, rolling out on his side of the bed.
“I’m putting clothes on now too!”
“Spoilsport.”
“Who started it?”
They both got dressed again, albeit only in their nightshirts, and went to knock on Colm’s bedroom door.
“Da?” Jesper said.
“Come in, boys.”
Colm was already dressed for the day, sat reading a battered paperback on his bed, with two parcels waiting in front of him. He smiled as they both walked in.
“Merry Christmas!” he said, patting the bed. “I thought we could do presents like we used to when Jes was young. How does that sound?”
“Yeah, that sounds great,” Wylan said, and Jesper nodded with a broad grin. They both gave Colm a hug, and went to fetch their gifts for each other.
Colm went first, and unwrapped the toolkit that Jesper and Wylan had bought him. He gave a low whistle, turning it over in his hands and admiring the pieces included in a neat tin. There were more hugs as he thanked them and handed Jesper a large flat package.
Jesper opened it up carefully, and inside was a canvas covered in a painting of the landscape as seen from the Fahey’s front porch. Wylan heard Jesper gasp as he opened it, covering his mouth as he looked over the picture.
“Is that…”
“One of Ma’s, yes. I’ve been saving it for when you have a house of your own, so you’ve got some way to remember what it’s like here. She made it when you were a baby, and I’d always planned to give it to you for a new home. When you find someone to live with.”
Jesper’s eyes were flooded with tears, and he gave a little hiccup as he leaned over and kissed Colm on the cheek.
“I love it, thank you Da.”
“I didn’t really have anything for you, Wylan,” Colm explained, “because I don’t know you as well as I’d like. But the painting is for the house you have together, so I hope you can enjoy it too.”
Wylan smiled broadly.
“It’s beautiful, and I’m so honoured that you want to share that bit of your life with me as well.”
They sat quietly for a moment, Jesper wiping his eyes as Wylan squeezed his hand, before Colm gave a subtle cough and blinked hard.
“Well, let’s not dwell on the people who aren’t here,” he said. “What did you get Jes, Wylan?”
Wylan passed his boyfriend the parcel he had carefully hidden in his luggage, and watched as Jesper unwrapped it. Inside was a new leather gun holster, handmade by a Ketterdam craftsman who had owed Wylan a favour, with embroidery on the outside. There were a myriad of images that covered it, but the most noticeable ones were a large golden sun, and some little orange jurda flowers that lined the straps.
“Oh Wy,” Jesper said in awe, turning it in his hands. “It’s beautiful!”
He leaned forward and kissed Wylan softly, smiling against his lips. Wylan held onto him for a second before pulling away.
“Now I feel a bit shit about what I got for you,” Jesper grinned.
“Language, Jes.”
“Sorry, Da. Here it is. I’ll explain it when you open it, because it isn’t obvious right away.”
Wylan was handed a small rectangular package, which he unwrapped easily. Inside was a book. His heart sank immediately, just for a moment. There was a picture on the front, an old ink drawing of a young girl playing a string instrument.
“Okay, so it’s a poetry book,” Jesper said, “with woodwind accompaniment. Someone plays the sheet music beside each poem—” he took the book and showed the dual pages, one with words, and one with music “—while someone else reads the poetry.”
Wylan was amazed. There were words that could go with music? That could be shared between two people? It wasn’t song, it wasn’t like the bawdy chants that the grunts sang at the Crow Club or the operas he had been forced to try to read as a child. This was music and words separately, but that came together to make something far more beautiful. And Jesper had found this and thought of him.
“This is brilliant,” he grinned, turning the pages. Already there were tunes that jumped out at him, ones that made him eager to fetch his flute and practise them. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Wy,” Jesper smiled, kissing his temple and leaning over to read the book with him.
“I’m looking forward to hearing some music this afternoon, then,” Colm said, slapping his legs as he stood up again. “Breakfast?”
“Yes please!”
They ate their usual fresh fruit and scrambled eggs for breakfast, talking little as they tucked into the food. Jesper had put on his new holster and was running his fingers over the smooth leather reverently as he ate. Once they had finished and done the clearing up, Colm suggested they take a walk before the sun came up even more. They changed into some lighter clothes and set out, Colm and Jesper bringing their guns with them so that they could try shooting targets from the top of the hill nearby. Wylan was happy just to watch: he had little experience firing guns and wasn’t keen on his first time being in front of his trigger-happy boyfriend and father-in-law. The walk was warm work even without the full effect of the sun, and Wylan wiped his face on the hem of his shirt as they reached the top. Jesper was still full of energy, as always, and was dancing on the spot as Colm set up their big wooden targets at the bottom. He jogged back up the slope towards them, his freckled face wrinkled as he squinted up at the sun.
“No wind today,” he said. “Aim should be true.”
Colm took out his rifle and loaded it up, taking first shot at the row of white-painted circles. There were dozens of holes all over the face, evidence of the amount of practise both father and son had at hitting them. Jesper had a turn after that, spinning his pistols on his fingers before cocking them and shooting in a matter of seconds, spinning them again as he blew the smoke from the tips and reholstered the weapons.
“Now I know why you like guns so much, at least,” Wylan grinned as Colm took another shot.
“It definitely runs in the family,” Jesper agreed. “Ma loved shooting too.”
“Never at live things,” Colm added. “It’s not about the sport. It’s the challenge of managing to get that pinpoint accuracy. And of course, the fun of holding something as powerful as this in your hands.”
He cocked his rifle again and grinned at the sound it made.
They stayed up there for another hour or two, idly talking and shooting. Wylan got curious and took a turn, borrowing Colm’s rifle and aiming for the closest target. Jesper laid his arms over Wylan’s, helping him line up the sight and showing him how to take account of windspeed and all other factors affecting the accuracy. Wylan had to admit, he was more focused on Jesper’s muscular body pressed up against his, the tensing of his biceps along Wylan’s arm as he clicked the trigger and fired a shot with him, and the relief as the bullet struck somewhere on the left edge of the target.
“Reckon you’ve got it?” Jesper asked, his leg still pressed against Wylan’s.
“I think I’ll do better if you help me,” he said coyly, adjusting his grip on the rifle poorly.
“Of course you would,” Jesper murmured in his ear as he lined them up again, pressing himself a little more firmly against Wylan as they fired again.
When they ran out of bullets and started to feel hungry, they made the walk back to the farmhouse. It was an easier walk than on the way up, but now the sun was beating down directly from above, and Wylan’s shadow was a small black pool under his feet. They reached the house and immediately changed their clothes for less sweaty ones, coming back into the kitchen to prepare lunch.
Wylan had been surprised to find out that seafood and salads were more traditional Christmas meals in Novyi Zem.
“It makes sense,” he said, “what with all the coastal towns and the hot weather.”
“Some people do have a roast,” Jesper explained, “but we prefer a lot of little dishes rather than one huge turkey or something.”
And lots of dishes, there were. By the time everything had been plated up and placed on the table, there were vegetables and salads and seasoned potatoes, cold cuts of spiced meat and a huge tureen of clam bake. Sauces of every kind, garnishes, and Wylan’s mouth was watering just looking at everything on offer.
“Dig in, boys,” Colm said as he brought over a final platter of egg salad.
There was silence for the first twenty minutes as they filled their plates and started to eat, appreciative noises the only form of communication. Jesper got up once to refill the water jug, but other than that, the eating was everyone’s sole focus. Wylan tried a bit of everything. There were so many ways of cooking things that he had never considered before, and he made a mental note to ask Colm for some recipes he could give to their cook when they finally headed back to Ketterdam. Conversation slowly arose again, and the eating slowed. Jesper took second portions, Colm and Wylan paused for a moment before also serving themselves more.
When they had eaten everything they could, a quick discussion was had about whether they should wait for dessert. It was decided that they should sunbathe for a while to let their food go down before going back for the puddings they had prepared.
Wylan and Jesper found their favourite patch to lie in, so that their faces were shaded from the sun but the heat could reach every other part of their bodies.
“I’m so full, I don’t think I’ll ever eat again,” Jesper groaned, patting his bloated stomach. Wylan reached out his hand, and Jesper took it.
“We both know that’s a lie.”
They lay there in the sun for so long, dozing off a little with the heat and fullness, hand in sweaty hand. Wylan woke up what he felt was hours later, but it turned out had been less than one, to see Colm stood on the front porch with a bowl of fresh berries.
“We can save the cakes for this evening,” he said, “but I think berries in the sun would be a good way to spend Christmas.”
The three of them sat on the porch – once Jesper had also been awoken – and shared the fresh fruit. It tasted so good in the warmth of the sun, and Wylan realised that this was probably one of the happiest he had ever been. There had been many other wonderful moments in his life, but holding hands with his boyfriend in the sun on Christmas day with strawberry juice all over his lips? That had to come near the top.
When the heat got too much and Wylan’s stomach was looking a little too pink, they went inside. They spent the afternoon just chatting idly in the living room, spread out on the sofas and trying not to bring too much heat into the house. As the sun eventually began to set, Jesper suggested that they try some of the music from the book he had given Wylan. Wylan fetched his flute from the luggage and got Jesper to pick a poem he liked the sound of. It was a simple romantic ballad, one that sounded familiar in its platitudes, proclaiming love for one who was more beautiful than anyone the poet had ever seen, and Wylan couldn’t help smiling as he pursed his lips and played the first few lines. Colm sat in the armchair in the corner, tapping a percussive rhythm on the side as Jesper read aloud the poem and Wylan played. They worked their way through the book. There were so many poems that Wylan knew it would take several blissful occasions like this one to get through all of them, so he felt no guilt in skipping past random ones and choosing some based purely on the notes he could read.
The sun disappeared below the horizon, bathing the fields in a soft pink light, and the Faheys (plus Wylan, although he felt like a Fahey) finally ate the mince pies they had been saving for when they regained their appetites. Wylan curled up on Jesper’s lap to eat, his knees against his chest and his shoulder pressed against Jesper’s. Colm went to bed early, tired out by the exercise that morning and the heavy meal, so it was up to the boys to tidy the table and make sure everything was sorted for the next day.
Wylan was increasingly sleepy, leaning into Jesper whenever he could, and Jesper did most of the work. But there was always an arm draped around Wylan’s waist, or running through his hair, or stroking his back. Always a kiss pressed to the side of his head or his neck or his wrist. And when they finally went to bed, it was with arms tight around each other, lips pressed together, and smiles shared between kisses.
“I’m so glad you suggested this,” Wylan murmured, kissing Jesper again.
“We should have family Christmasses every year.”
“Not with my family.”
“Of course not, you dork. But we can come here every year.”
“I can do sunny Christmas every year, absolutely.”
Wylan kissed him again, and thought that yep, this probably was the absolute best moment of his life.