Archive of Our Own

Pavel was never one for celebrations.

It was not as if he had never partaken in them. He did have fond memories of celebrating special occasions with his family—birthdays, usually; or isolated bouts of good fortune that remained unattached to a particular day on the calendar. Their celebrations tended to be quick and simple: crafting a simple gift to show one’s appreciation, saying a prayer in gratitude to whatever forces guided their fate, preparing a unique meal together and taking a moment of peace to savor it. Due to their lifestyle, his family hardly ever had the opportunity to indulge, and the occasions in which they did probably paled in comparison to what most people would think of when the word indulgence came to mind.

Only after moving to Perland and observing ostentatious parties and city-wide festivities did Pavel truly realize that, however. He recalled his curiosity the first time he saw all streets and buildings, from the lavish homes of the nobility to the poorest of commonfolk, put up decorations on their doors for a whole week during summer, and when his parents took him to the large gathering at the square to watch fireworks after the Dessert Festival; and, of course, those times the children in their neighborhood knocked on their door to invite him to the Harvest Festival, in which kids dressed up in costumes and ate far too much candy (again).

Still, after years residing in the city and vowing to dedicate his life to its protection, Pavel did not feel like he fit in whenever such holidays came by—for reasons far beyond his lack of a sweet tooth or his difficulty adjusting to groups. Perhaps it was because he had not grown up in Perland, thus lacking the collective foundations laid in its citizens’ minds by the long-forgotten historical events each festival—and everything else about the culture—was rooted in. Perhaps it was because his personality, so practical and quiet, was the very antithesis of “festive”. Whatever the reason may be, it only added to his dreams of protecting Perland, including during those moments in which it came to life so vibrantly. How could he do so if he wasted his time partying, after all? He would much rather watch from the sidelines, picking up on people’s habits and growing to understand the most popular holiday traditions from afar, allowing him to easily detect anything that may be amiss and quickly act on it.

As it was, his observations also proved useful when it came to bringing a traditional holiday meal to his partner, who could currently be found in a hospital room, recovering from a serious wound inflicted during his last mission with the Raiders about a week prior.

He reflexively tightened his grasp around the handle of the basket he had brought from the restaurant—the first part of his "surprise", while the second was kept safe deep in his pocket—as if doing so could help suppress the aroma that emanated from it. He had been given Lilias’ blessing for this (would still be patrolling the streets if it weren’t for her, actually) and even the nurse that escorted him to Violet’s room had given him permission, so long as he did not bring any alcohol. Yet, something about the whole situation had him feeling as if abnormal discretion was required, far beyond his usual operations with the Raiders. Those, he could handle. A surprise to be delivered personally to his partner, though? That involved skills he could not exactly list among his specialties.

“This is Sir Violet Harrison's room,” the nurse announced in an overly formal tone as the two stopped in front of a door: wood painted white much like the rest, yet standing out due to the wreath hanging from it, a simple circle of artificial green leaves and glistening golden ornaments with a single red bauble dangling from the bottom.

Probably a keepsake from their colleagues, Pavel thought. Some of them had reluctantly come to him for advice on what sort of Midwinter Festival decoration Violet would enjoy. Knowing them, he wondered if the red ornament was supposed to represent an apple.

The nurse knocked softly on the door, waiting a few seconds before opening it. He was a young man, possibly a few years younger than Pavel himself, and had only recently started to work at the hospital. That would probably explain his restless demeanor, not unlike countless new recruits Pavel worked with.

“Sir Violet—” the nurse started as he stepped inside, halting the moment the cool winter air greeted their faces, “it is freezing in here! Could it be some problem with the insulation in your room? We should—”

“Be at ease, my friend,” he heard a familiar voice say, its warmth contrasting with the chilly atmosphere, “I believe the insulation is fine. Let’s just say I needed a breath of fresh air, is all.”

The nurse sighed. “Sir, if you must have a breath of fresh air, please ask somebody to escort you to one of our external areas… Opening the windows will freeze your entire room for the rest of the night!”

“I do apologize for troubling you, but I don’t suppose this is what you came here for, is it?” Though he could not see much into the room from where he stood a few steps behind the nurse (who was taller than him, despite his juvenile features), Pavel had the impression Violet was trying to peek beyond the doorway as he spoke.

“Oh, right,” the young man replied, a faint hint of exasperation in his tone. “You have a visitor. But first, wouldn’t you like me to, uhm... bring a heater into your room? We don’t want your condition to worsen when you were just getting better…”

“I assure you it takes more than a little chill to affect someone such as myself.” He probably had a self-assured smile on his face, Pavel thought to himself. “If I may offer a piece of advice, though, I would recommend checking in with the other patients. Just to make sure their rooms haven’t been affected by my small bout of selfishness.”

“Y-yes, sir, I will get to that now,” the young man said as he stepped back awkwardly, turning to look at Pavel before moving on to the neighboring room. “Please, call me or one of my colleagues if he needs anything. Happy Midwinter to you, sir!”

Pavel simply nodded in response, taking hold of the doorknob and walking into the room at last.

The first thing he saw upon entering the chamber was, unsurprisingly so, a bouquet of flowers inside a glass container, which shared the restricted surface of a small corner table with a bowl containing two apples. Next to it, a chair originally meant for visitors was now occupied by a small pile of presents neatly wrapped in green and red paper.

“Looks like you were busy today,” Pavel said, turning to look at Violet as he closed the door behind him.

Violet was sitting on the bed, his legs covered by a thin blanket while a thick quilt remained neatly folded at his feet. Pavel had seen him in hospital many times before—including a number of visits over the past week, in fact, though he would usually find Violet knocked out from painkillers. So by now, Pavel was familiar with the subtle signs of weariness in his partner’s otherwise impeccable appearance. Surely, anybody who failed to look closely or who was not terribly familiar with Violet would have been amazed at the smooth texture of his skin or at how good his hair managed to look, even when he was in hospital. Pavel, however, could notice it when the other’s skin was a few shades paler, almost desaturated, to the point one could see the ghostly silhouettes of veins beneath the surface; and when his eyelids were ever-so-slightly swollen and the usual grace of his movements was hindered by fatigue, like a stream of water that struggled to flow after a rockslide, yet carried on all the same, breaching through whatever crevice it could find between the debris.

Though it pained him to see his best friend and partner in such a state, being able to detect those small imperfections, indicatives of the self-proclaimed “great” Violet Harrison’s humanity, was a little comforting somehow. Perhaps what comforted him was not necessarily that Violet was afflicted by those signs at all, but the fact that he could identify them so easily, thus being able to tell how Violet probably felt at a glance.

“The winter spirit must be getting to people,” the corner of Violet’s lips quirked downwards ever-so-slightly as he spoke. “It’s a shame so many seem to forget about it by the time the new year comes.”

Right. One of Perland’s many Midwinter traditions (a name Pavel failed to comprehend, as the festival in question was actually held at the very start of the season) advocated for generosity during the cold months—something about opening one’s heart and home to those who would otherwise fall victim to the merciless weather. Snow was not as common in the city as it was farther south in Cidonia, but drizzle and hail were; as was the fog, which made it more difficult for those on the road to detect monsters as they approached. According to folk tales dating back to when Perland was a kingdom under the banner of the Perlutia family, “evil spirits” (probably Unknown, according to Violet’s research) would come out more often on Midwinter Night, the longest one in the year, so mages would cast bright magical barriers to ward them off, bathing everything inside the large fortress walls in warmth and light. Those pieces of holiday trivia were particularly vivid in Pavel’s memory, as it was during winter that his family was welcomed into the city.

“A shame you can’t be there, too,” Pavel remarked as he approached the bed. He spoke both out of consideration for Violet, whose frustration at his condition was clear, and as a way to express his own feelings. “Some people seem hellbent on increasing our workload during the holidays.”

“It does feel strange to spend Midwinter without working for the first time in ages. Honestly, I’m surprised you could make it here as well,” Violet replied. He then raised an eyebrow as he looked up at Pavel, the barest hint of teasing in his voice. “Missed me that much, did you?”

“That’s not the point, but yes,” he admitted, looking away in an automatic attempt at focusing on anything else. Maybe it was a byproduct of his acute survival instincts: looking for an escape by focusing entirely on his surroundings came to him easily, even if what he needed to escape were his own emotional reactions. One may think what lies inside you is inescapable, but sometimes it worked surprisingly well, if only to shift his attention to the outside world for long enough to make time for whatever plagued his mind to settle. At that moment, however, his only so-called escape turned out to be the table and chair in the corner of the room. “We all did, clearly. As if it was possible not to feel it when somebody like you isn’t around.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment, but I will take it as one.” Violet scooched over to the side of the bed, a bruised hand tapping on the newly vacant space next to him. “Will you join me? There’s room for two.”

The bed was quite narrow—hospital beds are not meant to be shared, after all—but Pavel managed to make himself comfortable, even if his right side was pressing onto Violet while his left leg hanged from the mattress. Or, well, as comfortable as he could manage, considering how tense he still felt. Aside from the uneasiness that came with the surprises he had prepared, it always took him a while to find his footing whenever he accepted somebody new into his life—a phase he did not think he would need to undergo again in his relationship with Violet, the person he trusted the most after years as colleagues and close friends.

As it turns out, a romantic relationship was not the same as friendship, and as solid as the foundations they shared may be, there was an array of new additions to their dynamics that he was still learning how to deal with.

“I, uh, brought you some stuff, too,” he tripped over his words, now hyperaware of how close the two were, one’s cheek mere inches away from the other’s. Violet could probably feel the heat emanating from his face, especially given how chilly the room still was.

He moved the cloth covering the basket in his hands to the side, revealing a rectangular white box, wide yet relatively shallow, atop of which stood two smaller, square containers. Their designs were incredibly simple, favoring utility over appearance, with no aesthetic markings or ornaments on display save for red ribbons that enveloped the smaller boxes, keeping their lids in place. Pavel figured some sort of enchantment—or technology, or a combination of the two—had been used to keep the food inside from going cold, as the warmth emanating from the bundle hit his face the moment he unveiled it.

“Some stuff? This is more like an entire dinner!” Violet leaned closer, cautiously taking hold of one of the smaller boxes on top, as if it contained a precious treasure. “Hmm, these two look familiar. Are they from the bakery near the Perlutia estate?”

“Yes. Those are from Lilias, actually.” In fact, Pavel hadn’t been to the bakery himself, though he knew where it was located. He had been busy with patrols for most of the day, and had to stop by a few other places to pick up the rest of Violet’s “presents” before going to visit him. “She asked me to bring them when I went to report to her.”

“So not only did she give you a break during one of the most hectic times of the year for us, she also sent me presents?” He furrowed his brow, appearing to be genuinely intrigued. Pavel did not blame him, honestly. Unlike Violet, his relationship with Lilias was strictly professional, based solely on her position as Citylord and his as a member of the Raiders, and built atop quick and straightforward meetings. So he had also felt a little confused when she handed him those boxes, a friendly smile where he was used to seeing a sharp, calculating expression. For the two of you to share, she had said.

“Whatever you said about the winter spirit before?” Pavel suggested.

“Hah!” Violet chuckled. “If there’s one person I know who is not fazed by holidays, that’s Lilias. Though she’s not immune to emotion, I suppose.”

Violet opened the box, revealing two small pie-shaped pastries, each containing a dark red filling that could be seen through awfully intricate openings on the crust. Pavel had never tried them, but he knew they were called mince pies, despite not containing any actual meat and being, in fact, quite sweet.

“How considerate,” Violet smirked. “I’m almost touched.”

“There’s more,” Pavel offered him the second box from the same bakery. “But maybe save those for dessert. The actual food is in the last box.”

“So you did bring me dinner! Now that is touching.” Violet smiled, leaning in to plant a kiss on the corner of Pavel’s lips before taking the box from his hands. “Thank you. I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you once I’m out of here.”

“I— I didn’t do this to get anything in return,” Pavel spat out, and this time he couldn’t find an escape because even if his eyes darted around the room, Violet’s presence was so encompassing—the weight of his body leaning gently against his own; how close his voice rang against Pavel’s ear; his scent, still recognizable under those of food and whatever concoction conferred that distinct smell of medical supplies that every hospital seemed to have—that he felt… embraced, maybe. Not trapped, as he usually would: when he was trapped, he could think logically, look for alternatives, devise plans; all of which were very much impossible in the whirlwind of unreasonable emotions he currently felt.

“I know, and I’m not saying this out of some sense of obligation.” Violet’s eyes and voice were both calm as he spoke, conveying a feeling of honest simplicity Pavel could often sense in his actions. Certainly, neither simplicity nor honesty were words most would associate with the narcissistic heir of the Harrison family, as they would usually stop short at his eccentricities, or his charm, or his exuberant confidence. Never deep enough to read his heart, whose intentions Pavel knew to be in the right place. It was one of the things that drew him so intensely to Violet, after all.

“Plus,” he continued, and only when he watched his partner’s expression shift into a provocative one did Pavel realize he had probably been staring into his eyes, “I never failed to make it worth your while whenever I said I’d make up for something, hm?”

Though he hardly ever blushed, Pavel could immediately feel the heat take over his face and ears. Had Ralph been there, he may have asked the wolf to antagonize Violet somehow, in an attempt to choke back how flustered he felt at his partner’s comment (especially considering he was not wrong). Verbal comebacks did not exactly come to him easily, and even if they did, he suspected he would have been at a loss for words either way.

Instead, he silently pressed his lips to Violet’s. He initially had no intention beyond getting his partner to stop running his mouth, his movement—precise, yet hurried, not too different from when he located a target and had no time to waste before firing a single accurate shot—guided by the erratic beat of his heart. His demeanor changed, however, when he felt the other man’s lips curl into a smile against his own as he started reciprocating the kiss, leading it towards a slower, gentler direction, with the newfound purpose of simply allowing them to savor each other’s presence.

Oh, how dearly did he miss Violet. Of course, Pavel was aware of his partner’s absence when the two went so long without being assigned a mission together, or when he went back home alone for days in a row, unlike the nights in which he would accompany Violet back to his own place, occasionally stopping by somewhere for dinner or taking some time to unwind after a particularly draining day, sitting atop that hill Pavel enjoyed watching the city centre from. Those were all things the two of them had been doing for years, and going about them without Violet by his side felt as strange now as it did back when they were only friends. Physical intimacy, on the other hand, was new. Pavel had never realized how much he craved it and was still coming to terms with how much he enjoyed it, making it easy to slip back into the old, barely conscious habit of repression.

Good thing it probably wouldn’t be long before Violet helped him out of it, though.

“See? Made it worth your while,” Violet said as soon as the two separated, a playful glint in his eyes and a light pink tint to his cheeks.

“And here I thought that’d make you stop talking,” Pavel grunted, lowering his eyes to the boxes in his and Violet’s hands. “Weren’t you going to open those, too?”

“I was, but something even more interesting came up,” he punctuated his sentence with a quick kiss to Pavel’s nose—a display of affection he seemed particularly fond of—before turning his attention to the container in his hands. He swiftly removed the elegant ribbon and opened it, revealing an assortment of butterfly-shaped biscuits, their golden dough carefully decorated with elegant patterns laid in white icing. Pavel’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the level of thought that had been clearly put into that box.

“Now this is something I hadn’t seen in a while,” Violet sounded contemplative, almost nostalgic, as he took one of the confections between his fingers and analyzed it from up close. It emanated a faint scent of spices.

“Didn’t we have that last year?” Pavel inquired, the smell awakening memories he had actually forgotten.

It was true this was technically not the first Midwinter he spent with Violet—the previous year, despite being busy with work the entire day, both managed to join some of their colleagues for a modest late-night celebration at one of the few taverns that remained open. Neither was willing to hang around for too long (the environment did get quite rowdy within an hour), so they left together, initially with no goal in sight. A walk around the city centre had them observing the vibrant decorations and flickering lights, groups of people talking loudly and nearly spilling their warm beverages while others bid their relatives farewell outside their homes, stalls around the main festival area closing down and establishments with particularly festive ornaments opening their doors. The cobblestone thoroughfare was still slippery from the light drizzle that had fallen in the evening, and they found themselves helping more than one inebriated soul back up after nearly falling victim to the treacherous ground.

Well, aside from those who had had a drink too many, there were also a few who suffered the same fate, in spite of their sobriety… One such case being the elderly lady who was so thankful to the off-duty Raiders who saved her from possible injury, she decided to give them a bag of gingerbread biscuits in return. They had been a present from her niece, she explained, but oh, the girl didn’t know she was allergic to at least half of the ingredients, and her intentions were so pure, the old woman simply did not have the heart to say no.

So that was how the two of them ended up walking back to Pavel’s place while sharing some gingerbread. They were vaguely shaped like people and trees and stars, and while the taste was a little too sugary for Pavel’s liking (as with most of Perland’s confectionery), he was not dissatisfied with their level of spice and crispy exterior.

Next time, I’ll get us some hot chocolate to go along with these, Violet had said. I actually know a recipe that isn’t sweet at all. Maybe you’d like it.

As expected, however, the weeks that followed swamped the two men with work, quickly drowning any prospects of further wintery snacks. Not like it mattered much, anyway. Warm drinks were the very last thing in their minds when they had their hands full with actual threats to the city they vowed to protect.

“We did, yes,” Violet’s voice brought Pavel back from his recollection of the events from the previous year, “but these remind me of the days before I became a knight myself. When I was Lilias’ squire, I mean.”

Pavel did not say anything besides a simple “oh”. Despite how much his partner enjoyed conversing, he often avoided going into detail about some of his time attending to Lilias—whether because it evoked painful memories or the shame that often came with remembering one’s inexperienced days in any given field of work (particularly for those with as big an ego as Violet), he did not know, and little did it matter.

“We had a… falling-out, once,” Violet continued. “Looking back, I think we were both rather unreasonable. Can you believe she nearly managed to scar me?” He touched the area above his left eye, signaling where the scar would have been. Pavel simply kept listening, his eyes never straying from Violet’s face. “Now, I didn’t resent her back then, or at least not too much, anyway. We both had more important things to worry about, so we carried on.”

He paused for a second, his finger tracing the patterns on the gingerbread butterfly’s wings. “Then Midwinter time came, and she decided to take a day off. That was unusual enough; her dragging me along, even more so.”

Another pause, as if Violet needed time to sift through the memories and match each to the most appropriate wording. “It was interesting, to say the least. We talked about many things I doubt we would have addressed at any other moment. Didn’t talk about our fight from before, but I felt much lighter about it after that day nonetheless. I think it was one of the few times I saw Lilias with her guard down,” he chuckled, a somewhat humorless sound. “That’s the impression I got, at least. But even the brightest of minds would have trouble reading her, so who knows. At any rate, as I was saying, that's when we passed by that bakery and she treated me to some biscuits. I must say that establishment certainly lives up to its name.”

“So you felt better because she treated you like a friend,” Pavel pointed out bluntly.

“I suppose so. I may have called her a friend before, but I’ve always seen her more as somebody I looked up to. That Midwinter, though, I felt like we stood on equal ground.” He placed the biscuit back into the box, carefully accommodating it amidst the others. “It makes me wonder about her intentions with these. I can’t tell if she’s trying to make up for something, or if she was simply in the mood for a friendly gesture for whatever reason. My wound was certainly not the trigger; I’ve been gravely injured before and it never changed how she acted around me. So why—”

“You said it before,” Pavel intervened. “She’s not immune to emotion. Her reasons could be as simple as looking back on those memories.”

“I get a feeling you believe in those words as much as I do,” his lavender eyes were confident, yet serious when he directed his gaze at Pavel, as if Violet could see right through him—and knew it.

“Fine,” he conceded, looking away towards the window. A thin layer of condensation was starting to form on the glass, further blurring any glimpses one could take of the world on the other side, though Pavel had a feeling there would not be much to be seen, either way. There were no reflections of the city lights shining on the glass, only the warm glow of the lamps inside the room and the pitch-black of the night outside. “Call it boosting morale, then.”

“That sounds more likely.” Violet set the boxes of pastries on the bedside table. There was a resolute air to his movement, as if he intended to physically lay the topic to rest for the time being. “Well, that's something I’ll have plenty of time to figure out once I’m out of here. What sort of boyfriend would I be if I kept prattling on while you went through the trouble of sharing your Midwinter dinner with me?”

Boyfriend. That word still sounded strange to Pavel’s ears, as if it failed to fully cover the extent of their relationship—which is why he personally used the term partners, something he and Violet were as friends and continued to be as a couple. He did not think their relationship had transformed to the point it required a new name, forsaking all that came before in order to set brand-new parameters: instead, he knew they were continuing to build upon the years of mutual trust and understanding they had cultivated.

He was not entirely opposed to it, though. Perhaps he just needed more time to get used to it. As efficient as he was at adapting to the ever-changing environment around him, it did not mean he liked it—he did spend most of his life before Perland craving some semblance of stability—and his approach to his personal relationships bore testimony to that. Furthermore, he would be lying if he said he did not feel an odd sense of comfort whenever Violet proudly proclaimed himself his “boyfriend”. It reminded him a little of those times back when the two started getting close, when the man he then saw as a competent colleague who acted too full of himself started calling him “friend”. There was such genuine interest behind his words that Pavel could not find it in himself to fully reject them.

Instead of voicing any of those thoughts, however, he said, “I was starting to think you wanted to let it cool. You can talk for long enough to make time for that.”

“Hey!” Violet raised his eyes from the final box. It was shut tighter than the other two, possibly to maintain the temperature of its contents for as long as possible. “First off, I’m sure it would only go cold because it’s chilly in here, not because I talk that much. And even so, I’d take full responsibility for it.”

“Speaking of,” Pavel changed the subject, finally addressing something that had been on his mind since the nurse opened the door earlier, and that grew more intense when he noticed the dreary view from the window, “what was your sudden urge to have ‘a breath of fresh air’ about?”

“Oh! About that—” Violet’s speech was cut short the moment he managed to pull the lid of the box, an intense aroma engulfing both of them. Though the box itself was not large, it was internally arranged in a way that allowed for what was, in Violet’s own words, an entire dinner: slices of turkey, roast potatoes and vegetables, and a small vial containing some gravy. Despite not feeling like he was particularly hungry up until that point, Pavel felt his mouth water the moment his senses were flooded by the food.

“You can't be serious,” Violet said after a second or two spent staring at the meal.

“You don't like it?” Pavel asked hesitantly.

“No no no, on the contrary!” By the way Violet’s eyes were shining, Pavel could tell that he meant it. It was a little surprising, admittedly—he did not think his partner would be this emotional over food, but perhaps he hit something deeper than intended. “This looks great, Pavel. It’s been a long time since I last had such a traditional Midwinter dinner."

Oh, he thought, that explains it. Nostalgia seemed to play a crucial role in most Perlanders’ feelings about the holidays, and though the two had never openly talked about it, he could now see that Violet was no exception.

“But before I answer your question,” he proceeded, “did you bring anything we could use to eat this?”

“Yeah,” Pavel reached for the basket he had originally used to carry the boxes, examining it for the wooden utensils he had picked up at the restaurant. Whether he had only picked one or somehow lost the others, he could not recall, but his hand resurfaced with nothing but a single fork. “There’s only one, though.”

“Sharing is fine by me,” Violet’s lips curled upwards as he spoke, his voice slipping into a sly tone. “I could even feed you, if you’d like.”

“No,” Pavel rebutted immediately.

“You could feed me, then.”

“Your hands recovered just fine.”

“By the Gods, fine, we’ll take turns then,” Violet huffed dramatically before impaling a piece of carrot with the fork. “You’re spoiling me so much today, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to make a little suggestion of my own.”

“All the more reason not to push your luck,” he said as he picked up the vial of gravy and loosened the cap. It looked like the miniature equivalent of a bottle of liquor, making Pavel wonder whether storing alcohol was its intended purpose. Not many people ordered Midwinter dinners to go, probably.

“So,” Violet said as soon as he swallowed the vegetable, wasting no time before trying to fold a slice of turkey onto the fork, “regarding your question, I really needed to breathe a little. There is only so much of this stagnant hospital air I can take, and it’s not every day that I can ask somebody to take me out. That guy who brought you here is especially resistant to letting me go outside when there's as much as a chilly breeze, despite what he said earlier.”

“The kid is probably too worried about doing what’s right,” Pavel remarked as he took the liberty to pick a piece of potato with his hand and pop it into his mouth. “New recruits will be the same anywhere.”

“The run-of-the-mill ones, sure— hey, could you pour a bit of gravy here for me, please?” He asked as soon as he managed to hold the turkey in a more or less satisfying way, and continued to speak as soon as Pavel complied. “Thank you. Anyway, yes, he’s still going through that initial phase, but perhaps he—and his colleagues—could trust me a little when I say my resistance to cold is pretty good, actually. Other than that… I wanted to see if I could watch the lights from here. Unfortunately, my room isn’t facing the right direction.”

He stuffed the slice in his mouth, momentarily closing his eyes and sighing in approval. His shoulder seemed to relax, and the soft expression of delight on his face made Pavel acutely aware of how attractive that man was. How devilish must one be to look this good even when bedridden, shortly after struggling to fit a forkful of food in his mouth? And worse yet, how deep must one have sunk to be actually affected by that? He was positive his own reaction bothered him much more than the sight itself.

So he followed his survival instinct once again. Which, for some reason, dictated he should pick another vegetable (a piece of parsnip this time) with his bare hand and fling it into his mouth, only so he would have time to regain his composure. (There was no way he was voicing any of those thoughts. Violet would absolutely not let him live it down.)

“I was just about to ask if you wanted to use the fork, you know,” his partner said as he opened his eyes.

“I-it’s fine,” Pavel responded, though he took the utensil anyway. The gravy would probably make it too messy to fish a slice of turkey with his fingers. Once he felt his voice was stable enough, he said, “if you want to watch the lights, how about going up to the rooftop?”

Truth be told, that idea had been simmering in his brain for a while now. He had noticed it before—how enthralled Violet seemed to be at the festival lights, how they managed to catch his attention while the two walked together the previous year, observing them with near childlike wonder. He was initially not sure whether Violet would be well enough to go outside that evening, but the past few minutes washed away any doubt he may have had.

Still, the man in question stared at him for a moment, looking as dumbfounded as if he had been invited to celebrate Midwinter by hopping into a Chaos Gate to dine with Unknown.

“What?” Pavel asked before even swallowing his own slice of turkey. “You want to see them, don’t you?”

“Is this a trick question?” Violet blinked, his lavender irises shining with what could be confusion, excitement, or a bit of both. “Are you inviting me to sneak out to watch the festival?”

“From afar, but yes, I am inviting you,” Pavel’s tone was emotionless, as if stating the simplest of facts. “What’s so unusual about that?”

Violet laughed—not chuckled or smirked, but laughed, a brief yet genuine sound. His overall expression was the most amused Pavel had seen in ages. “Oh, it is highly unusual. I wouldn’t peg you for the type who indulges his injured boyfriend by helping him escape the confinements of these cold hospital walls.”

“Spare me the theatrics,” he averted his gaze, feeling the heat on his face once again. Props to his partner for getting that reaction out of him twice within such a limited time span. “Just say if you’d like to or not before… my winter spirit fades, or something.”

“Why yes, Pavel, I would love to watch the lights with you,” he said, still with a hint of drama, before giving his partner a peck on the lips. “I hope that poor nurse’s shift is over, though. I wouldn’t want him to fret too much over our little escapade.”

“He did say you could ask somebody to accompany you to the roof.” Pavel took one last potato before offering the fork back to Violet. “If he insists, I’m sure you can sweet-talk your way out of it.”

“So long as you back me up,” Violet nudged him on the shoulder. Pavel stole the slice of turkey he was going for in return, spilling a few droplets of the gravy on Violet’s sleeve.

They were granted access to the rooftop more easily than anticipated. The young man Violet was worried about had just gone home when they left the room, and a few convincing words with the chief nurse (combined with the clear weather outside, thank the Gods) were enough for her to allow them some time on the rooftop. They had not been the only ones to have that idea, apparently—two other patients were already there, one accompanied by hospital staff and the other by two people, presumably family members. The hospital was a three-story tall horizontal construction, with a flat rooftop that quickly became a spot for staff members and patients alike to unwind. The hospital administration had recently put a simple fence in place to prevent accidents, and word had it they were planning to turn it into a proper external area, with benches and gardens. For the time being, however, there was nothing but the cold rooftop and the metal bars that prevented anybody from getting too close to the edge.

The pair promptly located the direction they should face if they were to watch the lights at the main square. The illumination ceremony was always the highest point of the Midwinter Festival—it started early in the evening, and lights of different colors forming a wide array of shapes across the city centre were gradually lit up, following a pattern that told some sort of story. The tale would then be told in detail by storytellers in an event that would be carefully scheduled to end the moment the last few lights went on at the main square. Word had it that those customs—which catered mostly to children and particularly nostalgic folks nowadays—had evolved from the protective barriers devised by mages of old.

Judging by the view from the hospital, the event was nearing its end. Most streets in Perland sported some sort of sparkly decoration, but the closer they got to the central area, the brighter they shone. By following the trail of light, their eyes could find the buildings surrounding the square, some of which were being illuminated at that very moment, sparks of yellow making the constructions look as if covered in golden crystals. The large pine tree at the center of the square had yet to be lit up—it was the climax of the event, after all—but its shape was easily discernible amidst the sea of light that washed over Perland.

“T-the view here is amazing,” Violet stuttered, rubbing his arms. Despite the coat an employee at his family’s estate had brought him a few days before, he was still plagued by the cold winter air.

“So much for having pretty good resistance to cold,” Pavel muttered in response, removing his cloak and offering it to Violet. “Here.”

“There’s no need,” the other protested. “A g-genius such as I will not succumb to a mere chill.”

“Sure. Because being a genius makes you immune to hypothermia.” In spite of Violet’s denial, Pavel easily adjusted the cloak around his shoulders before getting under the warm fabric himself (such are the perks of being the shorter one!) and wrapping an arm around his partner, the two remaining as close as when they sat on the bed.

“Now this is something I have no complaints about,” Violet said, pressing his lips to Pavel’s hair and trying to huddle even closer to him, as if it were possible. He did always bring up how amazed he was at Pavel’s intense, never-wavering body heat. “See, you're spoiling me.”

“Your standards are surprisingly low, if not letting you freeze to death means spoiling you.”

“I’ll have you know my standards are quite high, thank you very much,” Violet replied without missing a beat, as if he anticipated Pavel’s response. “Do you seriously think the amount of effort you put into coming to see me went unnoticed? I know you better than that, Pavel. And I truly appreciate it.”

In the distance, thin circles of bright blue lights surrounding the tree were gradually lit up, giving the impression of water rippling in gentle waves towards the center of the square. Pavel’s attention was directed almost entirely to what his senses captured— the crisp air against his skin as the softest breeze blew and the outline of each construction in the city centre, from those with vibrant lights to the ones on side streets and back alleys, made barely visible despite the overwhelming illumination due to a particularly fortunate combination of angles. Unfortunately, that also made him even more aware of Violet’s presence once again, as well as that one particular item inside his pocket, reminding him of its existence like a piece of flaming hot coal he had been trying to ignore.

Okay, he was not trying to ignore it. Rather, he was simply trying to brace himself, he thought as he fiddled with the item as if to ensure it was real.

“It just felt unfair to me,” he started speaking—cautiously, without hurrying, taking his time to translate his thoughts into words as he leaned just a little into the curve of his partner’s neck, “that you, of all people, would spend this holiday by yourself. It looked like it mattered a lot to you, and— ugh, it’d be our first one like this, and… it felt like something you’d care about.”

“Like this?” Violet inquired, and Pavel had a feeling, based on his intonation, that his words were accompanied by raised eyebrows.

“You know,” he fumbled with his words. Gods, that was especially hard when he tried to figure out his feelings as he spoke. He had never applied a label to his relationship with Violet; not beyond the usual partners, at least, and attempting to scramble for a concise description on the spot made him restless. In the end, all he could come up with was “together.”

Violet did not reply immediately, instead taking a few seconds of quiet contemplation and gazing towards the main square. “I’m no stranger to spending holidays on my own," he started at last. "I spent too long away from my family, and longer still throwing myself at work after they passed away. And, well, you know the one close friend I’ve had before meeting you isn’t exactly into celebrations… That’s just the kind of person that's drawn to me, I suppose,” a dry laugh escaped his lips.

“I didn’t mind it too much, honestly,” his voice was slightly higher as he continued to speak, as if slowly releasing itself from whatever held it down, including the usual flair he added to his speech. “It is only my duty to help ensure the people can live in freedom and safety, including during the holidays, of course. But I must say, these two Midwinters we spent together were special in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.”

“Last year’s too?” Pavel asked, mildly surprised.

“Of course!” Violet’s voice trilled with emotion, as if making great efforts to reassure his partner, before it returned to the lighter note from before. “It was the first time I spent it with a trusted friend in ages. Not just a friend, my best friend! And I do believe holidays are like apples: simple as they may be, it’s all about your mindset when biting into them.”

“…You still owe me that hot chocolate,” Pavel muttered, ignoring his partner’s comment about apple philosophy.

“That is true,” he admitted, sounding slightly amused. “I haven’t forgotten, just so you know.”

Before either could say anything else, a gust of wind blew by, ruffling their hair and clothes and causing both to shiver where they stood—even Pavel, whose resistance to cold was fairly decent. Violet, however, looked as if he would have wrapped himself around Pavel for warmth if he could.

At that moment, something in Pavel’s peripheral caught his attention—a light flickering in the sky, then another. He looked up to find a most unusual sight: a perfectly clear winter sky, speckled with a multitude of stars and further illuminated by a series of celestial bodies that faded in an out of sight, shooting across the atmosphere, leaving a short-lived trail of light in green and blue hues in their wake. He called Violet’s name softly, directing his attention to the airborne spectacle unfolding above them, transient light sources harmonizing with the motionless stars to bring the otherwise dark and dull Perland sky to life.

When even was the last time Pavel got to witness such a phenomenon? He could vaguely recall doing so once or twice, as a young boy, when his family still lived in the Shandra Ruins. The stars had always brought him some comfort—not in the spiritual sense they did with the ancient Shandrans, or even with modern Constellans; but before settling in Perland, the sky felt like one of the few sources of stability they had. Whether they stayed at the ruins or found themselves moving from one city to the next in search of shelter, the one thing that remained unchanged were the stars in the sky, their immovable position guiding the group of nomads, no matter how far they strayed.

Pavel wondered whether the unnamed feelings welling up in his chest were anything like the nostalgia Violet had experienced earlier that evening, a sentimental sort of reminiscence paired with a sense of integration, as remnants of his past bled into a particularly tender moment in the present.

The two watched the shooting stars in silence for what could have been seconds, or a couple of minutes, or nearly an hour. For the first time in far too long, Pavel allowed himself to be completely drawn towards something, temporarily deactivating his constant state of alert. It was only when nearly nothing remained to be seen on the sky save for the still stars—and the occasional glimpse of the tail of a comet, burning out within a second of coming into view—that he took a deep breath and started to slowly regain awareness of his surroundings.

He turned to look at Violet, expecting his partner to be either facing the stars above or the city lights below. What he found, however, was a pair of lavender eyes gazing directly at him instead.

“My bad,” Violet said once their eyes met, his voice low and gentle and warm, “I didn’t mean to stare. You looked so peaceful.”

“Ah—” the sound rolled off Pavel’s lips with some difficulty, as if he still tried to return from an intense trip down memory lane. “Some things about nature make me feel that way. Like being around animals or looking at the stars.”

“Mmhm. I can see why,” Violet nodded, his hand tracing absent-minded patterns on Pavel’s back. “I’m actually glad we were here, of all places. I doubt we would’ve paid attention to the sky with all of the lights shining on our faces if we were in town. And trust me, those lights are so underwhelming in comparison to this."

“Yeah,” Pavel said simply.

He ran his thumb over the object in his pocket. He had been waiting for an opening to give it to Violet, or so he told himself whenever his nerves got the best of him. It’s better if I stop stalling, he thought to himself as he breathed in, finally pulling out a small velvet box, similar in simplicity to the one used for the meal they had shared: no ornaments, no ribbons, no markings.

“Violet, I—” he started, being immediately interrupted when he took note of the surprised expression on his partner’s face, “—why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why, Pavel,” Violet started, and the devilish grin that crept up his lips as he spoke made Pavel instantly regret asking, “and here I thought I would be the one to propose.”

“Fucking— I’m not proposing to you!” That man had already managed to make his face warm up in embarrassment twice that evening, but as the saying goes, third time’s the charm: chilly as the night may be, it was only then that Pavel felt his face burning. Had they been any closer to lights, he was certain his embarrassment would have been as clear as day. “It’s just— agh, it’s just a present! For you!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Violet held his hands up in front of his chest, an apologetic gesture betrayed by the laughter he clearly tried to suppress. “I didn’t mean to ruin your mood!”

Pavel cleared his throat, offering the box in Violet’s direction. “Yes, well, I got you a present. Just take it. Happy Midwinter.”

“Thank you, and a happy Midwinter to you too,” Violet graciously took the box from his hands, taking a moment to feel the velvety exterior before opening it. Pavel nervously watched as his partner’s eyes widened in surprise yet again, his lips barely hanging open while he removed the piece inside the box: a silver brooch shaped like a sword, its crossguard bearing a small violet crystal in the center, and sides that resembled the wings of a butterfly. A design that was clearly evocative of Violet’s own sword, even if slightly more refined for aesthetic purposes.

“Wow, Pavel,” Violet spoke hesitantly, almost in whispers, “this is beautiful. Thank you. I feel like I have thanked you a thousand times already, but you keep pulling surprises on me.”

The corner of Pavel’s lips quirked upwards in a subtle smile. He never tired of witnessing moments like those, when Violet, of all people, was rendered speechless with emotion. It was a side of his partner he knew not many had had access to, a display of vulnerability and trust that made his chest swell with feelings he would rather not name, yet he acknowledged—and was learning to feel truly comfortable with, at his own pace—all the same.

Those were the feelings that drove him to place his hand at the nape of Violet’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss: not an impulsive one guided by nerves this time, but one  that was charged with affection from the start. A kiss Violet responded to eagerly, throwing his arms around Pavel and pressing their bodies together.

Still, Pavel had a score to settle.

“Glad you liked it,” he said when he broke away…

…then bit Violet on the nose.

“Ow!” He protested, bringing the hand that didn’t hold the brooch to cover his face. “What was that for?!”

“Payback,” Pavel said simply.

“Oh, come on, are you still mad because of the proposal thing? I apo—” Violet’s words were cut short by a sneeze, and an incredibly loud one at that. Luckily, the other patients seemed to have left. “I abologized.”

“You did, and I accept your apology now,” Pavel choked back an amused snicker before reaching out his hand. “Let’s head back inside. We don’t want you catching pneumonia when you’re almost all healed from your wounds.”

Despite his whining, Violet took his partner’s hand, using the other to hold the brooch close to his heart as if it were the most valuable object in his possession. As the two made their way back inside the hospital, Pavel spared a moment to glance at the starry sky once more, barely catching sight of a pair of stray shooting stars, traveling together into the comforting darkness.