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>The storm envelops the Holiday residence, swallowing it whole
>It drums against the roof, rattles the windows, howls and moans around the walls
>The trees lining the driveway creak in protest as the wind pulls them this way and that
>Thunder rumbles now and again, closer every time
>Until it shakes the floor, so loud it's more a feeling thrumming through the air than a sound
>And yet, as Noelle Holiday slips between comfortable consciousness and a pleasant doze, she realizes she isn't scared
>She doesn't like storms.
>Too many memories, all of them bad.
>Of Mom sitting up all night next to the phone, clutching at her sleeves so hard her nails ripped through the fabric
>Of Dad, his voice shaking as he told her it'd be okay even as he desperately tried to avoid looking her in the eye
>Memories of long, dark nights that felt like they'd never end
>Of muffling her screams with her pillow so she wouldn't wake her parents, of the bed on the other side of the room, empty forever more
>But tonight's different. She's not scared, even as the lightning casts the living room into sharp, flashbulb-white relief and the wind screams past and the sound of the rain fills the house
>A little bored, maybe. The power went out hours ago
>No TV is bad enough, but (like the dummy she is, she thinks) she forgot to charge her handheld, and by now it's far too dark to read
>Can't use her phone, either. Mom will blow a gasket if she finds out Noelle wasted battery life on anything that wasn't an emergency
>So instead she sits on the couch, head on Kris Dreemurr's shoulder and hand resting lightly on his thigh
>Listens to the wind and rain as a a warm, soft drowsiness settles over her
>Settling so completely, in fact, that when Kris finally speaks she startles awake with a yelp
>She whips around to face him, so quickly that he only barely manages to lean back fast enough to avoid getting an antler to the eyeball
>"Whuh?!"
>"Oh. Sorry."
>Kris shifts a little further away from her, smooths down his sweater
>"I was just thinking... This probably isn't what you had in mind for your birthday, huh?"
>She snorts as she settles back into the couch
>"Fahaha. Well, you're not wrong."
>Storms don't often hit Hometown.
>It's too far inland, too far from the mountains and the sea for anything much more impressive than the occasional springtime downpour
>Sometimes the lake will creep a few inches past its banks and soak the shoreline
>Or the drains set into the sidewalks will overflow, puking brackish water and scraps of leaf mold onto the street
>But by and large, the weather in Hometown is mild year-round. So mild it's almost boring.
>That summer, though, had been an odd one.
>It started with a week of brutally high temperatures, so cloyingly humid they made breathing feel like sucking on boiled cotton
>Day after day of desperately trying to stay awake in class while the elderly air conditioner sputtered and wheezed
>The pool party Noelle had planned for her birthday started to seem less like a fun way to kick off the summer and more like the only safe way to get a group of people together under the circumstances
>Kris had shown up hours before anyone else, ostensibly to help her set everything up
>Of course, he'd actually just skulked around the perimeter and snuck candy out of the snack bowls
>But it had been a very long time since Kris had come to one of her birthday parties, so she let it slide
>Mom had gone to the hospital that morning to see if Dad was feeling well enough to come home
>And then, so fast it was almost uncanny, the storm had rolled in
>One moment she and Kris were setting up umbrellas over the tables by the pool, in the vain hope they could keep the metal surfaces from getting hot enough to cook the guests alive by noon
>The next they were desperately trying to hold onto them as the skies opened up and the wind whipped at their hair
>Things went downhill quickly after that.
>Mom called, her voice terse and edgy, to say she was stranded at the hospital until the roads cleared, probably overnight
>Catti had been the only one to text her to say she couldn't make it to the party
>Noelle appreciated the thought, even though one look out the window was enough to make it clear that the party was definitely not happening anymore
>The pool spilled over the rim, slopping all the way up to the back door and filling the damp air with a chlorine stink
>The front driveway had turned into a small creek, and she suspected the roads in town were little better
>And then the power went out, plunging them into darkness and forcing her and Kris to navigate by the dim, rosy light of her nose until they managed to find the candles
>Kris isn't wrong. This definitely is not what she had in mind for her birthday.
>He's not wrong, but...
>Noelle remembers how she felt all morning
>Worried, mostly.
>A constant, background hum of anxiety that made her stomach queasy and her head hurt as she tottered around in a daze
>Wondering if Dad would be able to make it home for once, if it was even safe to have people over when it was this hot out
>(It's the sort of thing you worry about a lot more when your best friend is a cat, even when she's a shorthair.)
>Wondering if maybe she was just being selfish.
>Causing everyone a whole lot of trouble for something she herself wasn't even sure she wanted to do.
>Her afternoon with Kris, on the other hand, had been very low-key
>Reading by candlelight while he did months-overdue homework
>Surviving off of party snacks, since cooking on the electric range wasn't an option
>Sitting together in silence and listening to the rain
>Was it fun? Maybe not as such, no
>But it's been a long time since Noelle felt so relaxed
>So before Kris can object, she takes his arm and pulls him close
>Gently nuzzles his cheek, a lazy smile spreading across her face as he tenses up
>"...Noelle?"
>"I guess this isn't how I planned to spend my birthday, but so what? I have a birthday party every year. This..."
>Spending time with him
>Being close to him
>Turning the silence, the stillness of the Holiday house into a blessing, when once it was a curse
>"This is different. It's special, Kris."
>She squeezes his arm and giggles
>"I'm having a good time. I promise. So quit worrying about me, fahaha!"
>Her smile only widens as she feels a sudden flush rising in his face
>"Oh. Glad to hear it."
>For a moment, he lets himself relax, puts his hand over hers and smiles shyly
>But then the embarrassment returns, too strong to ignore, and he stands suddenly, covers his mouth in a futile attempt to hide his blush
>"I-I'm gonna go grab a snack. You want anything?"
>"What do we have?"
>Kris shuffles to the dining room, starts digging through the pile of snacks on the table
>"Chisps or... sour cream and onion chisps. That's about it."
>Noelle makes a face. Chisps for lunch had been tolerable, but chisps for dinner was really pushing it, and a third serving of chisps in a row...
>Not that there's much they can do about it. Even Kris's kitchen skills only go so far without a way to heat food
>"I'm good. Thanks, though."
>She sighs, kicking her hooves as she flops back into the couch
>"I wish I'd remembered to to buy some more candy. I should have known a certain *someone* would eat it all."
>Kris snickers, his sly grin glinting in the darkness
>"Sorry about that. Good news, though! I've got the perfect way to make it up to you."
>He trots back into the living room, a bag of chisps under his arm, and sits down beside her
>Starts to rummage through the backpack he brought with him, pulling out dogeared textbooks and fistfuls of crumpled notebook paper
>"Here, I baked these last night. I think they turned out pretty well. Happy birthday, No-"
>He freezes, the blood draining from his cheeks
>His hand skitters frantically against the sides of the backpack, scratching at the fabric like a trapped animal
>Sweat beads on his forehead as his eyes start to jitter
>"Crap."
>Before she can react, he's already scrambling towards the front door
>"I'm just going to run home for a second and grab something. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes."
>The idea's so absurd that it takes her a moment to process what he said
>The rain is still spattering against the windows, so loud that she has to raise her voice a little as she speaks
>"Wh-?! You can't be serious! It's pitch black out there!"
>He kneels, pulling his shoes on and fumbling with the laces
>"I've got a flashlight on my phone."
>"It's pouring! You'll get soaked!"
>One hand's already on the doorknob, the other gripping the strap of his backpack
>"I'll get a change of clothes while I'm over there. I'll be fine, Noelle."
>This is a joke, right? she thinks
>But she knows better, knows that look in his eye
>The kind he always gets when he's fully committed to being a stubborn dope
>"Kris. *Stay*."
>She doesn't realize how it sounded until he smirks and raises an eyebrow
>"If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, call animal control. Someone should be able to identify me by the tag on my collar."
>"Y-You know that's not what I meant! I'm serious, Kris, don't!"
>She sputters, but it's not just flustered embarrassment
>There's something deeper, something worse
>Something making her heart pound fast and painful and acid burn the bottom of her throat
>Memories of another night like this one
>Of another person she cared about walking out into the night and never coming back
>She blinks quickly, hands clenching into fists as she tries desperately to control herself
>"Kris. Please. Don't go out there."
>He sighs, pushing his hair back as he frowns
>"But... It's your birthday. And I forgot your-"
>"I don't care!"
>She takes a deep breath, too upset to be embarrassed about snapping at him
>"Just... Please. I know it's important to you, but if you go out there I'm going to be worrying the whole time. B-Because... I know it's stupid, but..."
>Noelle's voice flags, wavering as she presses a hand to her forehead
>"It... it's just like that night."
>Kris's eyes go wide, horror streaking through the crimson
>"Oh God. I'm sorry. I didn't-"
>He bites his lip, shaking his head as he cuts himself off
>Takes her hand silently and leads her back to the couch
>They sit together for a while
>Noelle takes long, slow breaths, closing her eyes, focusing on the warmth of Kris's palm
>The dread ebbing away as she squeezes his fingers, smells the faint, artificial scent of his apple shampoo
>Kris mostly just pouts, staring into the shadowy corners of the room
>She can tell his heart isn't really in it, though
>Before long he gives up and starts to lean into Noelle
>"Well, happy birthday anyway. Sorry about your present."
>She chuckles quietly
>"Fahahah. I'm sure it'll be just as good when you do get it to me."
>"I worked pretty hard on it."
>Noelle bites her lip, trying not to snicker at the note of genuinely wounded pride in his voice
>"I believe you."
>And she does.
>She's not sure she's ever seen Kris this sulky about anything, let alone a birthday present
>It excites her a little. The thought that he made something for her that's special enough to get upset about.
>"Y-Y'know..."
>She wants to say it.
>Wants to tell him that it's enough that he's here
>That *this*, this comfortable silence that she missed so much, for so long, is more than she could ask for
>But just like always the words start to sound corny and stupid before she can say them, and the sweat beads cold and slick on her forehead, on her palms
>She lets go of Kris, wipes her hands nervously on her skirt
>"N-Never mind! Just... It's getting pretty late, huh? L-Let me know if you start feeling sleepy, I'll get one of the spare bedrooms set up for you."
>Kris checks his phone and frowns
>"It's barely even 10 o'clock."
>"W-Well, yeah, but... I mean, there's not really much else to do. Unless you want to just keep sitting here, fahaha."
>That'd be fine too, she thinks
>"True. Okay, go ahead and-"
>He pauses, eyes narrowing just a little
>Speaking slowly as the idea takes form, as though it'll startle away if he's not careful
>"Do you guys still have that piano?"
>"Hm? Oh, yeah. Right where it's always been. You must have missed it because of the dust cover. Gosh, I can't even remember the last time someone used it!"
>"C'mon."
>Without waiting for her to respond, he grabs her wrist, practically dragging her behind him as he races towards the dining room
>"Wh- Kris?!"
>Together, they stumble up to the great white shape that sits in the corner of the dining room like a particularly lumpy ghost
>Kris grins as he pulls the dust cover off in one sweeping motion
>He runs his fingers across its surface
>Lifts the long-forgotten books off the cracked leather seat of the piano bench
>"Perfect."
>As he lifts the fallboard, he glances back at her, an unusually serious expression on his face
>"...Just so we're clear, I *do* have a real present for you. This is just a temporary replacement."
>Noelle's emerald eyes go wide, her nose glowing cherry-red
>"Y-You're going to play? L-Like, *for* me?!"
>There must be some kind of misunderstanding, she thinks, fidgeting nervously
>He used to stop playing if he so much as saw her peeking around the doorframe
>But Kris just rolls his neck, then rests his fingers featherlight on the keys, shaking his sleeves further up his wrists
>He opens his mouth, then closes it into a nervous frown
>Excuses swirl in his mind as his heart slams in his chest
>"I'm not that good."
>"It's been a while."
>"I know this isn't as good as a real present."
>Part of him still wants to say them, but he just can't bring himself to
>The cowardly, self-deprecating impulse still tugs at his brain, but for once he doesn't... no, *refuses* to indulge it
>Maybe he isn't that good. And it has been quite a while since he played on a real piano.
>But this is the present that he has for Noelle. And he is going to make the best of it.
>"Yeah. I am."
>He bows his head a little, takes a deep breath, and begins to play
>Noelle's heart soars at the familiar sound, and she clasps her hands together, her ears fluttering blissfully
>She tries to place the tune, closing her eyes as she focuses
>It doesn't sound classical. A little too upbeat, a little too triumphant
>Why, if she didn't know any better, she'd almost say it sounds like...
>Her eyes snap open, going wide with disbelief
>"Is that the Dragon Blazers-?!"
>She slaps her hands over her mouth, blushing scarlet, but Kris doesn't look up
>Just keeps playing, and removes any doubt.
>It's the Dragon Blazers theme.
>Specifically the arrangement from the first game
>It's a good choice, she thinks. The sound chip they were working with for DB1 was way simpler, so it translates pretty well to piano since there's no attempt to emulate other instruments-
>No, no, no! She nearly slaps herself.
>None of that is important right now! Why does Kris know how to play this? He's not even really into Dragon Blazers, he's more of a platformer and fighting game fan
>Sure, he used to watch her play Dragon Blazers 1, but learning how to play the main theme on piano? You'd only do that if you were a real fan or...
>The blush deepens, burning in her cheeks like a fever
>Or if you knew a real fan. And you wanted to do something really nice for them.
>So she sits down on the floor beside him
>Holds her knees close to her chest as she listens to the main theme, as she hums along to the tune under her breath
>Beaming as tears start beading in the corners of her eyes
>Until, at last and yet too soon, it comes to an end
>She sighs happily, moves to stand up
>But he's not done yet.
>After a quick breath, a half-second to shake the weariness out of his hands, he keeps going
>The lilting, cheerful tones of the overworld, the tense staccato of the battle theme, the slow serenade of the credits
>Every time she thinks he's done, he launches straight into another song
>And every time, the memories come surging back
>Of watching Dad play through the first game, spellbound as she sat on his lap and tried to comprehend what she was seeing
>Of finally learning to play it herself, spending hours reading the manual with a flashlight under her blanket long after she was supposed to be asleep
>Of December becoming even better than she was at the game, even though she barely even liked it, just so she could do something about it when a boss fight made Noelle cry
>And of Mom, scoffing as she watched the three of them playing together, only to end up pulling an all-nighter the first time she tried it herself
>And now, as Kris plays on, she realizes that those games are more to her than just a reminder of the good times
>They're something she can share with Dad, even when he's too sick to walk or stand or even eat
>A constant in her life, even when everything else feels so dreadfully temporary
>The tears overflow, spilling down her cheeks and slicking her fur
>But the smile stays, even as she wipes her eyes on her sleeves and sniffles
>Kris holds the last note for a moment, staring at the keys
>The momentum leaves him, and the worry flows into the spaces where it used to be
>Only to melt away as something rams into him from behind, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, hard enough to force his fingers down on the keys and send a discordant jangle echoing through the house
>"Kris. That was..."
>Noelle's arms wrap around his chest, hugging him with every iota of strength she has
>"Thank you. That was the best present *ever*."
>He reaches up, squeezes one of her hands, a proud little smile wavering on his face
>"Happy birthday, Noelle."
>She didn't think she'd ever have the courage to say the words she says next
>"I love you, Kris."
>It feels natural.
>So natural it almost surprises her. So natural that she can say it without a hint of hesitation, without a beat of embarrassment, almost without conscious thought
>Has she said them before?
>Murmured them in a dream on the edge of waking?
>She's certainly thought them, felt them so strongly that speaking them seems almost like a formality
>And yet even so it should be difficult. The kind of thing she has to spend weeks working up the courage to say
>It doesn't matter. What does matter is the little hitch in Kris's breathing, the almost imperceptible shiver that runs through his body
>And the feeling that sings in his voice when he finally replies
>A concert just for her.
>"I love you too."
>Carol yawns as she blearily wipes the fog out of her eyes
>She doesn't usually wake this peacefully
>There's no panic, no bitter disappointment as the memories reorder themselves and she remembers where and when she is
>...That's about the only good thing she can say about how she's waking up.
>Her mouth is dry, sour at the corners
>There's a dreadful crick in her neck, bad enough that she can barely turn her head as she stretches
>And, of course, there is her husband, Rudolph, smirking as he watches her curse and struggle to sit up
>"How long was I out?"
>Her voice is froggy and thick, and she clears her throat self-consciously
>"Couple hours. You zonked out right after dinner."
>Carol grunts as she staggers to the window, peering out into the night
>The rain hasn't stopped, but it has at least slowed. The parking lot's still swamped, but she thinks it's at least subsided enough that she can leave by car rather than by boat
>"You could have woken me," she says, a hint of reproach in her voice
>"Aw, but you looked so peaceful."
>She rolls her eyes as she watches his reflection in the glass
>Only to see him staring at the blankets, a faraway half-smile on his face
>"It's been a while, hasn't it? Since we slept in the same room, I mean. Guess I just missed it a little."
>A lump rises in her throat, hot and achy, and she says nothing
>Clenches her fist so hard her nails almost break the skin as she leans against the windowsill
>Rudy is the first to break the silence
>"So, uh... Roads seem like they're pretty clear now. I don't wanna rush you out of here or anything, but I'm not crazy about the idea of Noelle being home alone on a night like this."
>Her ears flicker, and she folds her arms
>"There's no particular hurry. Kris is with her, I'm sure they'll be fine."
>Rudy chuckles, a lopsided grin splitting his face
>"Hah. Y'know, that almost sounds like *more* cause for worry to me, not less."
>Carol tilts her head back, tapping a finger against her chin
>"Hardly. I'm sure Kris knows that *I* know they're dating, after all. I doubt he'd be so foolish as to-"
>Something in the air shifts, and Carol stops, glancing back at her husband
>Barely manages to stop herself from cackling at his expression
>"Oh. You didn't know?"
>"The hell I did!" Rudy sputters. "That little- I- You've got to be kidding me!"
>He buries his face in his hands, pride and fury twisting at the corners of his mouth
>"Hm. Well, now you do."
>Rudy glances up at her, one thick eyebrow raising suspiciously
>"Gotta say, you are a *lot* calmer about this than I thought you'd be."
>"Am I? Are you sure that it's not just that you're overreacting?"
>He snorts
>"Guess I shouldn't be that surprised. You've always taken it easy on Krismas."
>Carol glowers at him, an irritable flush rising under her pale fur
>"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. And don't try and imply that I'd judge something like this based solely on my personal prejudices. I want the best for Noelle, just like you."
>"Right, because the kid who wears the same sweater 365 days a year and makes his mom put a padlock on the fridge so he doesn't eat whole pies overnight is "the best"."
>"I-!"
>She pinches the bridge of her snout, shakes her head
>"...I found out about the two of them when he came to me for advice regarding Noelle the other week. Of course I had my doubts, but he was... earnest. Thoughtful."
>There's a tenderness in her voice that makes Rudy sit up and listen
>An echo of a person he thought he'd never see again
>"If nothing else, he understands what she's been through. That ought to count for something."
>"Guess I can't argue with that."
>It takes Rudy a few tries to say what he says next
>A few dry, wheezing breaths as he stops himself just before he speaks, like a batter winding up a swing
>"Tell me something."
>His voice shakes, so softly that even Carol barely notices
>There's something there, under the words. A weakness, a worry that she's never heard before
>"It hasn't been easy, has it? Not for either of them."
>Carol's eyes harden, glacier-blue, and she rubs her temples
>"...It hasn't. And I certainly haven't been helping matters."
>Rudy chuckles, coughing as he stares down at his lap
>"Yeah, well. That makes two of us. But that's not my point. What I'm trying to ask is..."
>He pauses. Clutches at the blanket, his fingers trembling
>"You think they'll be okay?"
>"With each other?"
>"That too."
>Carol stares up at the lights in the ceiling as she thinks
>Closes her eyes, watches the afterimages dance in her retinas
>She remembers the good times, even though they seem so very long ago
>The bad times, even though sometimes it seems like they'll never end
>And then, for the first time in a very long while, she thinks about the future.
>Whatever it will be. However long it can last.
>And she crosses the room, her hooves clacking on the tile
>Kneels down next to the bed and puts her arms around Rudy's waist, rests her head on his chest
>She doesn't think about how bony it's become. How the sound of his breathing is so much more strained than it used to be.
>She just feels the soft warmth of his body, and listens to the sound of his heartbeat.
>"I don't see why not."
>And she smiles as she holds him close for a moment
>"After all, even we managed to make it this far, didn't we?"