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>One day, many of those years later
>Kris sets the last box down in the attic and wipes his forehead
>You never think about how much *stuff* you have until you have to carry it, box by box, up a rickety ladder that feels like it could shatter beneath your feet with every step
>And boy, is there a lot of it
>Sweaters
>Yarn for sweaters
>Yarn for non-sweaters
>Yarn that doesn't seem to be for anything at all
>Kris suspects the yarn may have started spawning.
>He's tried to organize the boxes to keep that in check, but determining which yarns are male and which are female is mostly guesswork on his part
>That's without even getting into the possibility of yarn parthenogenesis
>(Noelle was not particularly amused when he asked for her opinion on the matter)
>And of course, enough ornaments for a forest of Christmas trees.
>Mostly Noelle's, unsurprisingly
>When she'd suggested throwing some of it out, he'd practically leapt at the chance, doubly so when she specifically asked him to be merciless about it
>The attic's practically standing room only at this point
>He's just about to pop open the first box and get to work when-
>"Kris? Could you come down here for a second? There's something I need to ask you about."
>Uh oh.
>He knows that tone.
>Sugarplum sweet but sharp as a holly leaf
>She doesn't use it often. In fact, he could probably count the number of times she has in all the years he's known her on the fingers of one hand
>Which is exactly why he scrambles down the ladder like a spider monkey, ignoring the ominous creaks and crackles, and darts towards the sound of her voice
>It's a rare occurrence
>Rare like a polar vortex or an avalanche
>Noelle Holiday is seriously pissed off
>She's standing in the living room, hands on her hips and one hoof already scuffing irritably against the carpet when he arrives
>Eyes gleaming a furious jade, buck teeth in full view as she pouts
>It's been a while since her last haircut
>More important things to worry about, what with it being the Christmas season already
>Well, by Holiday standards, which is to say it's mid-October
>Her hair is shaggy and a bit frizzy, tied up in a long ponytail that blooms out into a great golden tuft
>Her antlers are in their fullest glory, having long since shed their springtime fuzz
>They glow a warm coffee-brown in the evening light
>And yes, maybe she's been letting her winter coat get a bit unkempt, but even so
>She's lovely.
>Truly beautiful.
>So much so that Kris can already feel the infatuated smile lazily spreading across his face, even as he knows now is absolutely not the time for it
>Noelle's eyes narrow dangerously
>"And just what are you smiling about, hm?"
>Fortunately enough, this is the kind of problem that solves itself
>"Just thinking," he says innocently
>"Oh? About what?" Noelle pinches the bridge of her snout. "Oh, don't tell me. You already know what this is about, and now you're just-"
>"About how beautiful you are, and how much I love you, and how lucky I am to have you," Kris replies without missing a beat
>So honestly it sounds like he's lying
>So calmly it sounds like he's mocking her
>Noelle glares at him for just a second longer, but he can see the way the light from her nose flares higher, the blush that starts to burn in her cheeks
>The tiniest quirk of a bashful smile in the very corners of her lips before she tamps it back down
>"D-*Don't* you think you can sweet-talk your way out of this that easily!"
>Her voice wavers, and Kris suspects if he really wanted to he *could*
>But putting off whatever this is will only make it worse if (when) it comes up again further down the line
>And besides, he's curious.
>"I wouldn't dream of it. What was it you wanted to talk about?"
>Noelle presses a palm to her forehead and takes a deep breath
>"Okay."
>She points behind her, to a half-finished scarf resting on the coffee table
>"I'm making your dad a scarf for Christmas. I was thinking I'd go with-"
>"Looks nice so far, by the way."
>It did, at that, Noelle being possibly the only person on the planet who could reliably get knitted goods done in time for Christmas
>"He's definitely going to love it."
>She doesn't take the compliment. Another glare, sharper this time
>Hmm. Maybe he can't talk his way out of this one after all.
>"As I was saying, I was working on a scarf for your dad, and I thought maybe I'd go with a floral theme. Since... well, yeah."
>It's funny how these things are sometimes.
>"The more I thought about it, though, the more it seemed like *just* using a flower pattern would be a bit boring, so I got a book on flower language from the librarby. So I could make something... meaningful, I guess."
>You spend so much time worrying about something that you get used to it
>And then it doesn't.
>So instead you get used to it not happening, so you stop worrying about it
>And then it does.
>Kris glances at the oversized picture book, still open beside the heap of scarf
>To a particular page, in the M section
>With a particular flower blooming brilliant across the glossy paper
>Shit.
>"You'll never guess what I found."
>In a voice that, of course, implies that Kris will very easily guess what Noelle found
>Kris has gone beyond dread, beyond panic
>His brain is filled with a strange, peaceful white noise
>The satori of someone who is completely fucked
>So even though he can see the trap shining steel-toothed in her words, he doesn't hesitate for a beat before stepping right into it
>"How about you just tell me?"
>In an instant, the book is in Noelle's hand, one furry finger slapping against that particular page
>"Mirrored lotus. Meaning, eternal love."
>She sighs as she sets the book back on the table
>"Kris... isn't that the same flower that's on my ring?"
>The one he bought her all those years ago.
>Still shining a brilliant platinum on her left hand
>She's really taken good care of it, hasn't she, he thinks
>"It does look that way, doesn't it."
>"Did you know? When you bought it for me, did you know what it meant?"
>He's a little disgusted at how quickly the lie starts to form on his tongue, in the half-second before Noelle's scowl fades to a frown
>Before she tugs at the hem of her wildly out-of-season Christmas sweater and looks him straight in the eye
>"Kris, please. Just tell me the truth."
>Kris runs a hand through his hair and mumbles something profane under his breath
>"...Yep. I knew."
>Noelle buries her face in her hands
>Lets out a long, high wail that's muffled by her palms
>Slowly slides them up to the base of her antlers, her eyes wide and manic with horrible vindication
>"Oh my *God*. Aghhhh! This is why you were acting so weird back then! I couldn't talk to you for MONTHS without you getting all... all tongue-tied and blushy!"
>True. At the time, he'd thought the whole stunt would make him feel better.
>One big act of catharsis and then he could move on or something
>It hadn't worked out like that.
>But then, of course it wouldn't.
>"It's why even after we started going out, you were nervous about literally everything! I thought it was just because you were weird, but-"
>It's maybe a little rude to call your longtime boyfriend "weird", and a little inaccurate to imply that he's no longer weird, but setting that aside, partially true.
>Kris felt like he'd tricked her into the relationship, somehow.
>Like it was too good to be true, like there was some sort of cosmic bank error in his favor and someday the world would notice and correct it
>Noelle fumes, storming over to the window and crossing her arms
>"Oh, don't tell me. *This* is why you always change the subject whenever I try to talk about marriage, isn't it?!"
>...Not *wrong*, but it's also not completely right.
>Kris has a variety of reasons that he feels a certain kind of way about the prospect of marriage
>Yes, the fact that he basically joke-proposed to his childhood friend about a month before they started dating for real is one of them.
>Only one of them.
>Kris's parents are wonderful. He loves them dearly, more than he lets on (which he sometimes feels guilty about)
>But...
>The fights, heard through the floorboards at night.
>The dreadfully silent dinners.
>Dad, trying his hardest not to cry (and failing, miserably) on the night he moved out.
>For all that they have done for him
>All that they have taught him
>They did not give him a particularly rosy view of marriage.
>"I mean, for the love of God, Kris! Why didn't you just..."
>His stomach knots even tighter, acidic regret rushing up his throat at the sight of the look on Noelle's face
>Not mad.
>Not disappointed.
>Bewildered.
>Confused.
>And more than a little hurt.
>"Why didn't you just tell me?"
>Because he thought it was impossible.
>Knew it was impossible.
>A girl like Noelle being friends with someone like Kris was already ridiculous enough
>Plausible only because they had known each other for so long
>Momentum can stand in for a lot of things, after all.
>But the further things went
>The closer they got
>The more she smiled at him, held him, *chose* to be with him
>The more absurd the whole thing seemed, on some level.
>As soon as it became possible
>As soon as it became real
>Kris got scared.
>He glances away, his crimson eyes darkening
>Loneliness he thought he'd buried, fear he'd tucked away coming to the fore after almost a decade in the dark
>"What would you have even done if I'd told you?"
>"I..."
>Noelle pauses for a moment
>She takes the ring off her finger, holds it up to the window and stares at it as the last rays of sunlight paint it a gentle, rosy peach-pink
>Her expression changes.
>Oddly wistful. A smile and a frown and a grimace and a pout fight for dominance on her face, twisting it into something uniquely...
>Noelle Holiday.
>"I don't know," she says at last, her voice low and soft. "Maybe nothing different. Maybe everything different."
>"But for now..."
>She rolls the ring between her fingers
>Kris's head spins, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth
>He feels like he's about to throw up.
>Idiot, he thinks to himself.
>At himself.
>Coward.
>This is what you get.
>What you deserve.
>Noelle strides over to him, her hooves clicking on the hardwood
>"Here."
>Takes his numb, limp hand, and presses the ring into his palm
>Curling his fingers over it when he refuses to do so himself
>"You can have this back."
>It feels cold. How can it feel this cold, when it was just on her finger?
>No, it makes sense. It's because it's not *hers* anymore, she's giving it back, because he's completely ruined everything-
>"*Temporarily*."
>Kris blinks, the dizzying spiral of bad thoughts suddenly unspooling
>"I'm gonna want it back, and soon. Until then..."
>And she smiles, really, truly smiles for the first time since the conversation started
>Leans in, careful to make sure her antlers don't poke his eye out
>And presses her fine-furred lips to his cheek
>"Think really hard about what you're gonna say when you give it to me this time, okay? I'm pretty sure even *you* know the kind of thing you're supposed to say when you give a girl a ring, fahaha."
>He nods, mute, struck dumb, and she giggles
>It hums into his mouth, sounds through his body
>"Good. I'm looking forward to it. Now!" She takes a deep breath and plants her hands on her hips. "I'll get back to work on this scarf. And *you* get to cleaning some of those boxes out of the attic!"
>Kris grins at that, rolls his eyes
>"Yeah, I was, until *somebody* interrupted me."
>Noelle just shakes her head as she flops back onto the couch, her eyes already hyperfocused on the scarf as Kris heads back up that deathtrap of a ladder
>Ring clutched in his hand so hard it'll leave a little red circle on the skin of his palm
>I'm really lucky, Kris thinks.
>To have someone like Noelle Holiday.
>To have someone like Noelle Holiday understand me, even when I'm not sure I understand myself.
>To have a second chance to say the words I should have said then, to do things right in a way I wouldn't have been able to then.
>He tosses the ring to himself (gently. If he lost the ring now, he really would never hear the end of it) and catches it
>It's been a long and roundabout road to get here.
>But more than anything, Kris is glad that he's walking it with her.