Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Dad?" a small voice asks from the other side of the living room. 

Marvin jumps, dropping the picture in his hands and the box in his lap, the prints that were previously in it now scattering across the floor. He hastily wipes his tear-stricken face before trying to gather the photos back together in one pile. His trembling hands are doing a pitiful job at it, but that's only until small gentle porcelain ones come to the rescue.

"Thanks," Marvin says softly after Jason hands the fixed pile to him.

He unconsciously fidgets with the photo on top: their family picture taken by Trina at Jason's bar mitzvah. Its corners are frayed, the thick paper now flimsy and filled with wrinkles and dents. 

Jason only watches as his father holds the paper with a shaky grip, his frown growing as the seconds pass. His eyes never even leave the photo.

He hesitates to say something, but he really wants to say it and get it out, so he decidedly shifts from kneeling to sitting on the floor.

Marvin breaks from his trance and puts the photo back on the pile, as if he had just remembered his son was right in front of him. "Sorry," Marvin sniffs. "Did you need anything, kiddo?" he asks, his throat raw from crying. He glances at Jason to acknowledge him, but never keeps his gaze.

Jason shrugs, dismissing the question. He swallows his instinctive fear of his father's anger (Marvin's changed— he knows that) and wills himself to say what's on the tip of his tongue. 

"Dad, why don't you— Have you— ever thought of, maybe, framing? That picture?" he says smally.

Marvin jerks his head up and looks at Jason, so many emotions passing through his face.

"You seem to really like it," Jason adds, voice even quieter.

Marvin's eyebrow creases and his frown deepens, the light of the living room reflecting on his glassy eyes. His jaw clenches, the words still formulating in his mind. His lips are quivering, Jason notices. It takes a while for him to be able to say something.

"I can't do it," Marvin then says, his voice breaking. He looks down at the photo, his fingers twitching as they itch to take it.

Jason looks sympathetically at his father, who's starting to break into tears. It's even worse seeing him try to hold them back.

"And you're wrong," Marvin says, shaking his head, frowning, looking down at his lap. 

Jason doesn't say anything, instead just patiently waiting for his father. It doesn't mean he isn't hurt by it, but he fights through the pain. "I hate it," Marvin eventually whispers, covering his face with his hands as he sobs.

(It helps because at least he doesn't see how heartbroken Jason looks right now.)

Jason blinks and blinks, desperately trying to will away his tears — the sight of Marvin along with his admission being too much to not be affected by.

Impulsively, he pushes the box of pictures aside and decides not to focus on his own feelings. He just throws himself onto Marvin, mushing his face onto his father's shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. 

It makes Marvin sob even harder, Jason just holding him tighter in turn. 

Jason's eyelashes grow wet in the embrace, but it also helps him as much as it does Marvin, so he doesn't let go for a while.

It takes minutes until Marvin composes himself and once his breathing evens out Jason gently sits back up. The kid rubs his eyes, playing it off as something that isn't wiping away his tears. Marvin doesn't comment on it.

Marvin sniffs, running a hand down his face to catch the tears then over his nose to wipe the snot. He wipes his hand on his pants.

"Dad… That's disgusting," Jason says, making a face. 

Marvin laughs, brief and momentary. A weight lifts off his chest as he does. A small smile appears on Jason's face.

He ruffles Jason's hair with his clean hand, looking at him earnestly with his puffy eyes.

"You're really special, you know that?" his hand moves down to the side of Jason's face, gentle in his touch.

Jason smiles at him, his eyes flitting from Marvin's face to the floor to a corner of the room each time he blinks.

"Do you really hate it?" Jason asks, now searching Marvin's eyes. 

He looks away and sighs deeply, his whole body deflating. His hand falls from Jason's face to his knee then reluctantly, to the box of photos. 

He sets aside that photo, the one on top, and shuffles through the rest of the pile. They're pictures of him, Charlotte, Cordelia, and Jason — some individually, some together. 

They're all lovely, full of smiles and happiness and wonderful memories. There are a handful of good candid shots — Marvin laughing, Marvin gazing into the distance, Marvin being caught by surprise from Whizzer's camera — although most of the other ones just look ridiculous — Marvin frowning at Whizzer's surprise camera, Marvin captured licking the spoon from Cordelia's batter bowl, and Marvin with his mouth wide open, drool at the corner of it, sleeping like a log.

Most of the photos are posed rather than candid, with Jason's awkward smile and Cordelia's sunshine-bright grin and Charlotte's one-sided smirk. All of them are tied to memories— moments that they can easily recall. Relive.

They're all good memories. Good feelings.

(And yet, it all feels so bittersweet.)

Jason simply watches as Marvin goes through the pictures, the photos stirring up a warm yet tight feeling in his chest. He wordlessly waits for what Marvin has yet to say. 

It comes around the time he's gotten to the middle of the pile.

"Look. This is all us," Marvin points out, tossing the photos around. He starts out calm, but as he mentions their names he starts to grow frantic. "You, me, Charlotte, Cordelia." A mess of pictures start to cover the floor. Marvin slowly loses his composure.

"See? There's even one of Trina and Mendel," he scoffs in disbelief. Jason notices how his father's hands start to tremor once again.

"All of these," he wildly gestures at all the pictures. "They were taken by Whizzer," he says, his tone shifting at the mention of his passed lover, growing softer. " He was the one behind every one of these pictures," he says wistfully, a sad smile on his face. He searches through the mess, shuffling the pictures around. His hand stops at that picture, almost like a flinch from the suddenness of the movement. " This —" Marvin's breath catches. 

He takes the family photo from the bar mitzvah, his grip creasing the paper. 

"This is my only photo of him," he says shakily, tears forming in his eyes. He tries to smile, really he does, but it's too wobbly to even last a second.

"Ever since we got back together he was always the one who took our photos but that only meant he was never in any of them. And the one time— the one time he gets to be in a photo he just looks pale, and sick, and dying ," Marvin hiccups. His sobs start to return.

"It's not fair," his voice hushed. "He was beautiful, Jason."

Jason stays silent, staring at his father. The tears pooling in his eyes fall down his cheek the moment he blinks.

"He really was. God, he was so beautiful. He knew it, too. And then he—" Marvin breaks off, the coming words just pouring salt in a fresh, open wound. It takes him a few tries to get out.

"He got sick, " he sobs, sounding utterly broken. "Didn't mean that he wasn't beautiful anymore. If anything, it was the opposite. But Whizzer didn't think that."

Marvin easily ( way too easily) remembers Whizzer in the hospital, asking day after day if he still loved him even if he looked the way he did. He remembers how Whizzer cried as he held him close, as he kept hushing him, as he kept muttering soft reassurances, as he kept telling him that he was still beautiful, as he kept whispering that he loved him no matter what. He remembers how Whizzer never believed him, how he continued to ask him the same thing day in and day out, how it broke his heart every time he did, and he remembers how he never tired of trying to convince him, how he always kissed the bony knuckles fisting the fabric of his shirt, how he tenderly wiped away Whizzer's tears and never let his own fall. He remembers it all too clearly, the memory still so raw— so recent, the hurt and grief hitting him deep. 

Yet still, he all but wants to tell Jason this, 'cause it'll only add to the grief, he knows. So instead, he swallows his sorrow and puts on a brave face, saying, "Ridiculous, really. For him to worry about how he looks at a time like that." He chuckles softly, the sobs catching in his throat. “I guess that’s Whizzer for you,” he adds lightly. He hears Jason huff a tiny breath, sees him give the smallest of smiles — he takes it as a small victory.

"And when he still could he always went on and on about making sure his photographs were perfect, always taking the time to frame it properly and get the right angle and lighting and all of that," Marvin says, Jason nodding. "He said that he wasn't just paying good money for film, he was paying to keep a memory alive forever and— that always drove him to put so much care into taking his pictures and I know —" Marvin inhales sharply. 

"I know that he hated this photo," he looks at Jason apologetically. Jason looks back at him, understanding, but the frown remains on his face and his tears continue to fall all the same. 

"He didn't want it to be in it. He said he didn't and I knew he didn't but still I— I convinced him to because it was a big moment and we couldn't not have a picture and I don't regret it, kid, I promise, but—" Marvin sighs, his shoulders heavy. The tears cloud his vision, and he wipes them away when they fall on the picture. (It's witnessed too much grief, really.) "It's just so unfair that this is his only photo because it's that image— of him in so much pain," Marvin sniffles, "it's that that's gonna live with me forever," he says, his voice trembling. The tears are back — he doesn't know when he started crying again, but he knows it isn't going to stop now. "I just— wish we had something to hold on to, that isn't just a memory, where he was happy. You know? Something, where he was actually smiling and—"

Very suddenly, out of the blue, Jason quickly wipes his face, stands up, and runs to his room. Marvin flinches, startled and shocked and staring at the now empty space in front of him speechlessly.

You scared him away, a voice in his head snaps at him. Again. Just like you always did.

He shakes his head, tries to shake the voice away, his mouth trying to form words in an attempt to tell it no.

He whimpers, but other than that he can't seem to make another sound.

The silence rings in his ears. All the emotions are swirling in his stomach and all the voices in his head seem to drown him. The images surrounding him start to blur together, a mish-mashed puddle of memories filled with laughter and joy and yet it pierces his ears. He makes it want to stop — wants the memories to disappear because it's unfair. How can these blissful moments be captured when Whizzer doesn't have a single one of his own?

A sudden urge to rip the photographs or crumple them up rises in Marvin's system, and he unconsciously takes a random one before realizing his thoughts and abruptly lets it go.

The picture of Cordelia and Charlotte laughing as they're covered in flour slides across the floor, pushing other pictures back with it.

Marvin buries his head in his hands, digging the heels of his palms in his eyes not really to stop tears but more just to… feel something. To distract him.

He takes a deep breath, tries to reset his thoughts, whispers I'm sorry to no one in particular, and just closes his eyes and drifts.

An eternity goes by, or maybe it's just a few minutes, Marvin doesn't know, but eventually Jason comes back out of his room.

He walks cautiously towards Marvin, his hand closed in a loose fist.

"Dad, are you okay?" Jason asks, concern laced into his tone. Marvin doesn't move.

"Dad?" Jason pokes his father's shoulder. Marvin looks up at him, almost disoriented. "Are you okay?" Jason asks again, sitting back across Marvin.

"I don't know," he answers in a whisper. Confusion looms over Marvin's face, not helping with how bone-deep tired he looks. 

He waits for Jason to say something.

Jason takes Marvin's large hands and places a small black thing in them before he does. He glances once at Marvin before playing with the hem of his shirt, finally speaking.

"Whizzer promised me we'd get that developed together," he mumbles. "We never got around to it," he adds sadly.

Jason looks up when too many seconds have passed and Marvin still hasn't said a single word. He finds him only to be looking even more confused than he was earlier.

"Dad? Will you say something?" Jason pleads.

Marvin looks at the object, blinking multiple times as if it would help make things clearer in his mind.

"I don't—I don't know what this is, kid," Marvin answers, hoping for an explanation.

Jason's facial expression changes, Are you serious written all over it. It's really almost laughable if Marvin wasn't so puzzled right now.

"Whizzer let me borrow his camera for a while. He taught me how to use it and stuff," Jason says. The gears in Marvin's head start to turn. "I took photos of Mom, and Mendel. And Charlotte, and Cordelia, sometimes you," Jason enumerates. Marvin's eyes gather with tears, holding his breath in anticipation.

"And Whizzer," Jason finally says, happiness blooming in Marvin's eyes. Once the information sinks in, he smiles, filled with immense relief. He laughs and he cries at the same time, clutching the thing in his hands. 

"Where—"

"It's in that," Jason points to Marvin's hand. "We have to get it developed at the mall," he answers without even having to know the question.

"Okay. Okay, we'll go tomorrow," Marvin says, breathless with disbelief. Jason smiles awkwardly in front of him. 

(He still mourns Whizzer's unfulfilled promise, the film cartridge in Marvin's hand taunting him. The ache in his chest is eased by his father's laughter, but it's far from gone.)

"You never told me Whizzer taught you photography," Marvin says, his gummy smile a contrast to his glassy, bloodshot eyes. (He forgets sometimes that Whizzer was as much a father to Jason as he was his lover. It's nice to be reminded.)

"We didn't do it that much," Jason replies nonchalantly. "It's not that special. I kinda miss playing baseball with him more. Or chess," he adds, Marvin only now seeing the sadness behind his tone. He says their pastimes with a kind of fondness, a kind of yearning, that makes his heart hurt. 

"Oh, kid. I know," he lays his hand on Jason's knee. "I miss him, too," he squeezes his knee, giving him a melancholy smile.

Jason only looks at him a moment before looking down, slowly reaching to fidget with Marvin's hand. He turns it over and runs his thumbs over Marvin's palm, slightly moving his fingers around, curling them in and out. Marvin just lets him for a while. 

"Hey. What's on your mind?" Marvin asks gently.

Jason glances at him then quickly averts his eyes, shrugging and giving a tight-lipped smile. 

"I'm just sad. Which I know is normal," he states, as if completely unaffected. Marvin's face is purely understanding.

"It is. But you can always tell me how you feel, okay? Whatever you're thinking," Marvin says while Jason still plays with his hands.

(Jason knows that. He's working on it.)

"I'm getting kinda sleepy," Jason says, diverting the conversation. He isn't really, not when he's been having trouble sleeping, but he is tired. That counts for at least something, he supposes.

"Okay," Marvin nods, not even batting an eye. He knows what Jason is doing, and he lets him get away with it. "We'll go to the mall tomorrow as soon as you wake up?"

Jason's eyes dart to the film cartridge, looking at it longingly before his eyes go misty with wistful gratitude. He just nods, smiling genuinely at Marvin. Before he makes a move to stand up, Marvin's free hand sandwiches Jason's hands on his knee.

"I love you," Marvin tells Jason, putting weight to his words. He looks straight at Jason as he says it, watching as his smile spreads and his eyes grow soft. 

"Me too, Dad," Jason tells him, slowly wrapping Marvin in an embrace. 

Marvin closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as his arms encircle Jason's whole torso. 

Jason pulls away after a long moment looking nervous, something clearly in his mind. Marvin is about to ask when he feels Jason press his lips to his cheek, softer than a gentle breeze of wind.

His son stands awkwardly after doing it, but Marvin's surprised smile is so heartwarming that one spreads across Jason's lips, too.

Marvin raises his hand to brush his thumb across Jason's cheek, wiping away the tears that have long fallen. "Sleep tight, okay?" Marvin tells him softly.

Jason nods, his smile affectionate. "Goodnight, Dad." 

Jason walks to his room, looking back once only to find Marvin looking back at him fondly. They share a smile before Jason turns around, the door clicking shut behind him.

Marvin exhales a deep breath, that one particular photo being shifted by his air. He picks it up for what has to be the hundredth time that day, only now holding it with a kind of gentleness that he's never given it.

"You sleep tight, too," Marvin tells Whizzer's sickly and still yet smiling face. "One of these days, you're gonna wake up and I'll be by your side again, okay? Just hang in there."

"Hang in there," Marvin repeats, a whisper.

(This time, he's telling himself.)

* * *

Morning comes and Marvin gets out of bed, running on around three hours of something he can't even call sleep. He makes breakfast, which is more of reheating whatever Cordelia had brought him a few days ago and making coffee rather than actually cooking. Jason comes out of his room soon enough, hair mussed and eyes bleary from sleep and puffy from last night's tears.

"Sleep well?" Marvin asks, putting a plate and utensils in front of his designated chair.

"Well enough," Jason shrugs, fixing himself breakfast.

Marvin watches him carefully, Jason always having answered that question with a persuasive nod.

"Don't want to sleep in? We can go later today," Marvin suggests.

"No, it's okay. Happens a lot," Jason tells him, forking himself some of the brisket.

"Does it really?" Marvin asks before he can even think about it.

Jason glances at him before easily answering. "Yeah," he says softly.

Marvin looks at him and he only now notices the dark circles that have been surrounding his eyes recently. He remembers when those weren't there— those were the times when he never even got the chance to look him in the eye. They're closer now, though. Jason is now telling him about it. It's really not a big deal, but— he's being more honest now. Telling Marvin about the little things. Letting Marvin in.

That matters to him.

"Ew. The texture is horrible," Jason mumbles, completely unaware of his father's train of thought. His full mouth distorts his words while he makes exaggerated chewing motions, his cheeks stuffed with meat. (It's mostly horrible because it's been reheated and not straight from the kitchen, but still. Horrible.)

The smile that was already forming on Marvin's face now morphs into a laugh.

"I'll let Cordelia know," Marvin jokes. 

"No!"

* * *

After Marvin washes the dishes (and Jason dries them) they immediately dress up and get ready to go to the mall. Jason restlessly waits by the door as Marvin grabs his wallet and the film cartridge and shoves them in his jacket pockets.

Marvin locks their front door on the way out and as he does that Jason knocks on Charlotte and Cordelia's door out of habit.

"We're just going out for a bit," Jason says once the door opens, Cordelia greeting him with Charlotte trailing behind her. Marvin pockets his keys and stands behind Jason, plopping his hands on his son's shoulders.

The girls' eyebrows raise in sync, their eyes lighting up. "Really?" Charlotte asks.

It's surprising because ever since the funeral Marvin has mostly been holed up in his apartment and only really went out when absolutely necessary. All of them have tried to get him out of the door multiple times, mostly to just eat out or come along to buy groceries (he hasn't even visited Whizzer's grave), but he wouldn't budge. They never forced him, though, so now that he's going out willingly they're extremely glad.

"Yeah, just a little trip to the mall," Marvin confirms, smiling humbly.

"That's great!" Cordelia exclaims with a big open-mouthed grin, Charlotte lightly punching his shoulder.

"Eh. Yeah," Marvin says, demure. "We just wanted to let you know. Jason? Anything you wanted to say to Cordelia before we go?" Marvin raises his eyebrows innocently before Jason tilts his head up at him, eyes full of betrayal.

Cordelia stands there, her expectant smile never fading.

Jason scowls at him before looking back at Cordelia and telling her, "The brisket was so good," in a tone so convincing it's actually concerning.

Cordelia beams at him while Marvin and Charlotte share amused looks.

"Yay!" she squeals. "I'll make sure to cook you some more soon—" 

"Okay, sweetie, let's not keep them from their trip to the mall," Charlotte interrupts, not even having to look to know about the grateful looks on Marvin and Jason's faces. "Tell us how it goes later?" Charlotte asks Marvin.

Marvin nods and smiles, his teeth showing. "Yeah."

"Alright, kiddo, let's go?" he tells Jason softly. He nods.

"You guys have fun!" Cordelia calls after them once they're a few steps away.

Charlotte chuckles and shakes her head, telling Cordelia to close the door and to join her back in their bed.

* * *

It's a fairly short trip to the mall, Jason easily locating the place to get it developed. They hand it over and the girl at the front tells them it's going to take a few days, but that they can pay extra to have it done quicker. Marvin looks at Jason but he only shrugs, completely leaving the choice up to him.

He's counting his bills before he pauses, instead asking, "What do you think I should do?"

"Huh. I mean, if you really need it then you pay extra, but I'm gonna be honest — it doesn't look as good. If you want the best quality I say you wait it out," the girl says.

"Okay," Marvin puts back some of the money he pulled out from his wallet and hands the girl the initial amount. "Good things take time, don't they?" he adds. (He knows from experience. He doesn't want to skip that stage again.)

"Indeed. Thank you," she says, taking the money and putting it in the register. "I'll have it done after a week at most. Just come back then." 

"Got it. Thank you, young lady," he smiles kindly at her. "Come on," he taps Jason's shoulders and ushers him out.

He halts when he's out the door, turning around and walking back to the desk. Jason confusedly follows him back in.

"There's no chance that the photos might get ruined, right?"

The girl looks up at him, thrown off, reading his gaze. "There is, actually, but it's a small one," she answers then pauses, thinking what to say. She settles with, "Don't worry, Sir. I promise I'll take care of these personally. And I'm basically the best in here," she says playfully. She gets a laugh out of Marvin.

"Yeah— That'd be great, thanks. And, uh, sorry, for asking, it's just— They're special, you know?"

"I get it," she says, and there's something in her tone that tells Marvin she really does.

"We'll be back next week," Marvin says, looking at Jason for confirmation. Jason nods, his smile not fully there.

"Hey," the girl speaks, now facing Jason. "I know a week might feel like forever but I think seven days is more than worth it for something that's actually gonna last you forever. Sit tight, yeah? It'll be done before you know it." It placates Jason. 

Marvin watches her, her words striking a familiar chord. "Whizzer would've liked you," he says under his breath before he can even stop himself.

"Whizzer?" the girl tilts her head. Marvin falters, though barely perceptible.

"His dad," he answers immediately, gesturing to Jason with his voice full of emotion.

"Oh. So you're…?"

"Also his dad. It's complicated," he says simply.

"Alright. Sorry, none of my business," she says lightly.

"Don't worry about it," Marvin replies sincerely. 

"Next week, m'kay?" She raises the film cartridge and puts it in her breast pocket, tapping it once it's inside.

The silver pendant hanging from the bracelet around her wrist catches Marvin's attention. (A double-headed axe.)

Her eyes follow his gaze, down to her own hand then back to his eyes. They stare for the briefest of moments before recognition blossoms behind their eyes.

They share a smile.

"Next week."

* * *

The week passes by the way most weeks have for Marvin, with grief and sleepless nights and dull moments that feel like eternities, with his tight-knit family and their shared sorrow, care, love, and worry, with longing and anger and regret and sentimentality, and now with brimming anticipation.

He doesn't get a wink of sleep the night before they go to the mall again, and when Jason eats breakfast with him he thinks he isn't alone.

When they arrive the girl greets them with cheerful recognition, their envelope at the top of their pile.

"Hey! Here you are," she says, handing them over the second they reach the counter.

"Thanks. How'd they turn out? Since you're the best in here, apparently," Marvin says, smiling.

"They turned out great, thank you very much," she answers confidently. Then, she asks, "Have they been undeveloped for long?"

Marvin stands there, unknowing. He looks at Jason, who gulps nervously.

"Yeah, kinda. A few weeks, maybe a month by now," he says, voice breathy.

"Okay. That explains why it's just a teensy bit faded, but it's nothing too obvious. Did you take these?" she asks Jason. 

He nods, smiling though tight-lipped.

"They're beautiful," she tells him. "They really are," she tells Marvin. "There was one photo in particular — the one on the bottom, I think it really captured 'save the best for last' really well. It was my favorite, and I think it'll be yours, too," she says warmly. She doesn't point out the way Marvin's hands seem to start shaking.

"And I know I'm way out of line here, but if it's Whizzer that's in these photos, I really think I would've liked him, too."

Marvin clenches his jaw to hold back the tears forming in his eyes, but he smiles at her with all the heart that he can muster.

"Dad, I wanna see them," Jason says, gingerly taking the envelope from Marvin's grip.

"You think you can wait until we get home?" Marvin says roughly, the sadness clogging up his throat.

"Yeah, I want to open it with you," he replies, staring at the envelope.

"Okay. Sorry, do you mind if we—?" Marvin gestures outside the door.

"No, no, not at all. Go ahead," she says understandingly. "I never got your names, though," she adds.

"He's Jason. I'm Marvin." 

"Marvin. Okay," her voice goes soft, a newfound fondness in her tone. Her smile matches it completely. "And you, Jason. I really hope you keep taking pictures. You took really great ones, you know?" 

"I don't know. Maybe," he says, but it's an obviously empty promise.

"Ah, come on, I didn't see nearly enough of this old man in your photos." 

"Hey, I'm not old!" 

"You are, Dad," Jason deadpans.

"He said it," she shrugs, innocent but actually mischievous.

"Okay, can we not?"

She laughs heartily. "I won't. But don't be so against it, yeah, Jason? Wouldn't hurt to have a few more memories to keep through the magic of photography," she says lightly.

(Marvin internally realizes that she's right. That one of these days they'll really need something of him to hold on to. They just don't know it yet. He sighs.)

Jason looks at her, his subdued mood now more lifted. He hears Whizzer's philosophy in her words.

He smiles with only one side of his face. "Okay, I'll think about it."

"Well, that's all I ask. Now, don't let me keep you, I know you've been dying to see the photos." 

Marvin swallows at her wording, but still finds it in himself to smile gratefully. He mouths thank you and waves before walking out the door. Jason comes along but pulls him back in when he says, "We didn't get your name!"

She grins.

"I'll just have to tell you the next time you come back, then." 

Jason's eyes sparkle with excitement. "Deal."

"Marvin," she says in acknowledgement. "Till the next time," she salutes. 

They both salute back.

* * *

Marvin buys Jason ten new film rolls and a photo album before they go home, along with three too many picture frames that definitely do not go with his apartment's interior. (He doesn't really care.)

They sit side by side at their dining room table, clearing out the space entirely before putting the envelope on top. Marvin picks at his nails, looking at Jason to open the envelope for him. He looks back at him nervously but complies.

The lip of the envelope rips open instead of a clean peel — which is in no way satisfying, the contents pouring out inevitably from the slippery, glossy nature of the paper.

Jason shakily gathers them up into a pile before they even catch a glance of the images. He inches his chair closer to Marvin before diving in.

This is what they see:

1. The top of the pile is a black image. No, actually, when they look at it closer they can recognize the vague silhouette of the living room. It's a test shot — Jason's first.
2. Jason grinning. It's toothy and awkward and his brows are furrowed. The photo is simple, the messy living room as the backdrop and Jason as the subject. He's perfectly centered. The angle makes it so that he's right in front of the camera — not too low or too high. Whizzer obviously took it, definitely teaching Jason as he did.
3. Whizzer grinning. It's pure teeth and cheek and eyebrows, mocking. His hands are glued to his sides and his shoulders are tense — an uncanny resemblance of Jason's posture. The picture is tilted and blurred and the angle is a tad too low. The camera is in Jason's hands now. 
4. What follows is a genuine smile from Whizzer. Definitely taken just moments after the previous. It's wide and proud and his shoulders are now relaxed and it's him. It's really Whizzer now, in the photo. Just him being happy. (God, is he pretty. And God, does Marvin miss him.)
5. The two of them, still in the same outfits, with one of Whizzer's arms outstretched towards the camera, taking the photo, and one of them around Jason's shoulders. His head rests atop Jason's head, big smiles going up to their eyes. (It's a picture of two best friends. Jason still remembers the weight of Whizzer's head on his own and his large hand on his shoulder. He really really wants it back.)
6. New setting. Somewhere next door. It's the lesbians' apartment, the two of them standing in the middle. Cordelia's elbow rests on Charlotte's shoulder, Charlotte's arm is wrapped around Cordelia's waist, and the two of them look at each other while their heads stay facing the camera, both of them smiling inwardly. It's a good photograph with well-arranged elements, their pretty faces front and center. Jason's getting the hang of it.
7. It's the same setting as above, same subjects with their same pose, only now they're smiling— probably laughing, actually, with their faces facing each other — inches apart. They're closer, happier, realer. It's a candid photograph, and somehow, it's even better than the other.
8. Whizzer, again. Different clothes, definitely different day. He's out on a field, the grass beneath his feet and the sky above him with the sunshine beautifully resting on his skin. He stands cross-legged, leaning his weight on an upright baseball bat as he stares into the distance. (It's a shame to think that he's always behind the camera when he's this beautiful in front of one, Marvin thinks.)
9. Again, it's the same as the previous (Jason points out that he prefers to have two snapshots of each moment, just 'cause) with Whizzer still surrounded by green and blue, except in this second one his head now faces Jason, a grin going up to his hairline and his hand up, waving.
10. Same field, different subject. It's Jason, this time, post-swing. It's masterful, the way the photo was captured. The bat is over his left shoulder, his torso is twisted, and there are stars in his eyes, visible even with his cap, from the surprise of hitting the ball for once. (Jason remembers how Whizzer looked incredibly proud.)
11. The two of them, the field and the sky being covered by their faces. Jason's taking their photo, the same way Whizzer took the fifth photo in the pile, though shaky from adrenaline. The sun reflects on their sweaty skin, but they don't seem to mind from the open-mouthed grins plastered on their faces.
12. Trina and Mendel. (Marvin is pleasantly surprised.) Mendel has his arms wrapped tightly around his wife with his head fitting perfectly in the junction between her neck and shoulder. He smiles with his perfect set of teeth, Trina caught mid-eye roll. She's not annoyed— not fully, only playing a character. The corners of her lips that are fighting to lift are betraying her.
13. Trina giving in to the smile, affection spreading in her facial expression. Her eyes are still rolling, (how she does that Marvin still doesn't know even after years of knowing her) but she's leaning in to the kiss being planted on her cheek. (What's not captured in the photograph is Jason saying blegh and gross. Yet somehow they can still hear it.)
14. Mendel being overenthusiastic. Note: he's not in the photo. What's in the photo is an ankle length floral skirt and the bottom hem of a sweater with a tan blob occupying a third of the shot. Worst part is that it's a complete blur— a sure accident. A premature click of the shutter button. Basically, a waste of film. (But it's hilarious, and oddly endearing— at least to Jason, so it's not completely.)
15. Mendel gets it this time. The angle is horrible and slanted and his finger is still visible at the corner of the image but at least there, photographed, is Trina — poise and beauty and elegance. She definitely has no idea Mendel just took a picture of her legs moments prior.
16. Whizzer again. (A concoction of different emotions brew inside Marvin's system seeing Whizzer in this way and it makes him want to throw up and cry and smile and laugh and die all at the same time.) It's a bit meta. Whizzer's taking a photo himself (they're at the park they frequent for walks), facing the sunset, meticulously trying to capture the perfect picture. There's deep concentration weaved into the crease of his forehead, his eyebrows drawn together. The golden orange tint of the sky is breathtaking, especially in the way that it engulfs Whizzer's figure. It's one of Jason's best pictures so far, and Marvin couldn't care less about the sunset or the scenery or whatever Whizzer was taking a picture of because this, right here, is the best view one could ever see. (Nonetheless, he makes a mental note to finally will himself to go through Whizzer's things after all this time and get his films developed. He owes him at least that much.)
17. Whizzer, still surrounded by warm light, with proud satisfaction all across his face. He's not taking pictures anymore, just looking at the view. He probably doesn't even realize Jason's taking pictures of him. It's obvious that all that matters to him is the moment he's living in right then and there. He did that, sometimes. Just breathed and took it all in and felt grateful. It's there, evident in the smile on his face — full of happiness and peace and contentment. (If Jason and Marvin notice that he's a bit less filled out than before, they don't say anything. The photo of him is too beautiful to be tarnished by reality.)
18. The dining area of Charlotte and Cordelia's apartment. The table is packed with trays of tinfoil-covered food, occupying the whole space of the table. It was an order for Cordelia's catering that got cancelled. She did get a refund for it, but Charlotte still looks absolutely troubled. Horrified. Because she realized that she's stuck with a whole lot more of Cordelia's cooking for the next few… days. Weeks, even. (Jason found her expression to be photograph-worthy. Marvin approves. He'll definitely give her so much shit for this after he stops laughing.)
19. Cordelia now behind her, arms wrapped around Charlotte's neck with her hands resting across her chest. She's leaning down, her cheek on top of Charlotte's head, a gentle smile directed at the camera. Charlotte holds her forearms and closes her eyes, love etched inside the dimples of her cheeks. (It's sickly sweet, the way that they are. Charlotte still obviously can't stand Cordelia's cooking, but that barely matters. Their love is the only thing that does.)
20. Charlotte, Cordelia, and Whizzer, dawn peering right outside the window, beaming smiles brighter than the sunrise. They're laughing, all together, the light of the television illuminating their faces in the dim area. They're in the girls' living room, sitting around a coffee table with their plates on top of it. (Cordelia's is a few grains away from licked clean, Charlotte finished her food but skillfully pushed away some to the corners — she's definitely had some practice doing that, and Whizzer's plate seems like it was barely touched.) The television is the main source of light in the photo, but it's too far away in the shot for its image to be made out right away. It takes a few seconds of narrowing his eyes and staring, but soon enough Marvin realizes that what's on the TV is him, showing that day's weather forecast. He can't recall which day that exactly was, but he can surely say it was one clear, sunny day. (His friends never watched his portion, always sleeping through it. Jason tells him that they woke up sometimes, most times when he was there, to have breakfast together and watch. Laugh. Be happy.)
21. The angle changes and the view of the television (of Marvin) is much better. He's still in the middle of discussing the weather, his stylish outfit picked by Whizzer the night before. The three stand next to the TV, making ridiculous faces at the camera. (Idiots, Marvin thinks. He chuckles.) Charlotte's raising her eyebrow and pointing her thumb towards the screen, the smirk on her face saying Look at this guy. Cordelia is crouched below her, mouth open and eyes wide and palms spread out, theatrically amazed. Whizzer is on the other side — on the side of the screen where Marvin's standing, his hand on top of the television and his other on the screen exactly on Marvin's belly and he's making a duckface, his lips angled towards Marvin's cheek. (His cheekbones are hollowed, deeper than they normally are, and it burns in Marvin's chest but the sight of Whizzer is enough to soothe the pain.) TV Marvin is captured mid-sentence, pointing at the predictions with absolutely no idea that the people he loves the most are on the other side of the screen, having the times of their lives.
22. A silhouette of two people sitting on the sofa, the bright light of the television in front creating it. Whizzer is asleep, his head lying on Marvin's arm which is outstretched across the back of the couch. (He dozed off watching a baseball game, which is uncharacteristic of him. He'd usually be at the edge of his seat screaming at the TV. Marvin knows why he wasn't now.) From the shadow it can be barely seen, but it's there — the way Marvin looks at Whizzer with so much love. His cheeks are bulging — the sign that tells them he's smiling, even when they can't see clearly. (It's an intimate moment caught on camera, one that should've stayed inside the bubble that belongs to the two of them alone, but Marvin's glad it's been eternalized. More than anything.)
23. Marvin rests his head on Whizzer's now, his arm curled around Whizzer's shoulder. (Marvin looks at Jason, tears filling both their eyes, and he curls an arm over his son's shoulder, kissing his temple and murmuring his thank yous in his hair.)
24. (It's the last photo, and Marvin wipes away his tears before getting to it. The girl said it was her favorite, and he wants to see it clearly before anything else. It's bittersweet, he thinks, to be at the end of it.) A scene from one of Jason's baseball games. It's taken from a distance but they're there, right at the middle. Marvin and Whizzer, shoulder to shoulder, sitting on the bleachers. Their fingers are interlaced and they're looking at each other. Whizzer's smile is carefree and beautiful and his nose is scrunched and his eyes are directly on Marvin. He's looking back mirroring the same wide smile but with a softness in his eyes, the unchanging gaze of affection and adoration bleeding into his expression. (It's always there when he looks at Whizzer. Even now, as he looks at the picture.) They're happy, in the picture. Happy and smiling and in love. They're together, in the same kind of place where they found each other after two years of being apart, and it's wonderful. The photo captures the whirlwind of emotions (mostly joy) that comes with falling in love— falling back in love, and it's more than words can say.

(But then there's no second photo for that. The film has run out.)

Marvin and Jason frame photos 2, 5, 8, 10, 11, 21, and 24. They stay in the living room. (22 and 23 are also framed, but they stay in Marvin's bedroom.)

1, 3, 4, and 9 go to Jason's photo album. He can't wait to fill the rest of it up.

6, 7, 18, 19, and 20 go to Charlotte and Cordelia while 12, 13, 14, and 15 go to Trina and Mendel, with no accompanying picture frames. Trina would only definitely throw them away and take hours looking for better ones in the mall.

All of Jason's photos have found their place.

In the end, the photo from Jason's bar mitzvah does get framed and hung on the living room wall.

Yes, it eternalizes the heavy situation and the pain and the sorrow that comes with it, but it's also the only photo of their tight-knit family all together (even if Trina's behind the camera).

It's the photo that shows their unconditional love and support for each other. It shows their resilience despite everything that they had to face. (Not just Whizzer's sickness. Everything. From the small pains of everyday living down to the big life-altering events.)

It shows how much they care for each other and how much they mean to each other.

It's a celebration of Jason. Of him growing up and getting older.

It's proof of what love brings together, no matter how unlikely.

It's the memory of a man and his lover, of a father and his child, of a family, and of love.

That, no matter how bittersweet, deserves to live on forever.