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“Neeejjj, are you serious?”, Simon wailed and made a suffering face at Wilhelm, who shrugged his shoulders, defeated.
The look on his boyfriend’s wrinkled brow was devastated.
“I tried everything, I swear, but my parents are just crap.”
It had been the last days of school before the Christmas holidays would start and they had made a plan. Wilhelm’s parents would stay in France until New Year’s and Wille had protested with his best outraged-teen-attitude that he would not accompany them on the trip.
“I’ll stay here, back in Hillerska, so we can be together over the holidays”, he had promised with his cute hazel-eyes, and Simon had believed him.
“Thank you for not leaving me alone”, he had whispered against Wille’s cheek and sent him off to defy his parents with this resolution with a kiss full of support and encouragement, only to now be kicked in the guts. Basically, Wilhelm’s parents didn’t mind leaving Wilhelm in Sweden. So far the plan had gone well – although it broke Simon’s heart a little to see them prove their lack of interest in their teenage son this bluntly. But unfortunately their parental conscious did not approve of him staying at the boarding school all by himself, like the boys had hoped for.
“Why must it be August of all people?”, Simon whined and rolled his eyes.
Wilhelm frowned, upset and helpless.
“He’s family. If I don’t stay with my parents, I have to stay with his clan in Karlstad. They’ll pick me up on Christmas Eve on their way back from their skiing weekend or whatever – I didn’t listen.”
“But Karlstad is miles away! We won’t be able to see each other at all. That’s so so bad!”
“I know, Simon and believe me – I hate the thought of spending the holidays with them just as much. August will be at my ass the whole time. Don’t know if I will even find a quiet minute to call you.”
“No, fucking WAY. This is shit!”, Simon growled and not even the cozy hug from his boyfriend could make him feel any better.
Back on the bus home a little frustrate tear stole into his eye. He was sorry for himself, for the ruined holidays and sorry for Wille. Because France with his parents would probably still have been the lesser evil than Karlstad with the Horn family.
Batshit! This is gonna be the worst Christmas ever!
On the twenty-fourth of December Simon didn’t even want to get out of bed. What would he even get up for, as the present he had made for Wille would not be delivered. He couldn’t even pack it up for him, for it was a song he had written and planned to play for him on this special day – their first Christmas together. But they had said their goodbyes yesterday and would probably not meet again before the beginning of the new year. And what good could that bring – what good was having a boyfriend at all – if Simon wouldn’t even be kissed at midnight? The curly boy let out a sad huff and rolled over in his tangled sheets. Maybe the disappointment wouldn’t hit so hard if he hadn’t imagined everything already – how it would feel to be in someone’s arms under the Christmas tree, to touch hands in the candlelight, have a cup of steaming punch, eat Christmas cookies and sing cheesy songs together. Or at least start a happy new year with a kiss, to snuggle up close in the cold of the last day of December and see the reflection of the fireworks sparkle in the eyes of his love. Instead, Wilhelm would have to suffer through a seven-course dinner at the Horn estate, sitting up straight in a choking black suit, faking smiles and talking polite, and Simon was stuck in his boring ass living room with his annoying sister and would probably end up in front of the TV, watching stupid shows on repeat and fall asleep before midnight. No Christmas together, no New Year’s, no Wille’s song, no corridors of Hillerska all for themselves, no boyfriend, no kissing – no nothing.
Dammit, why can’t those Bernadottes be normal for once?
He kicked the messed up blanket off with an angry grunt and sat up, staring at the glow of his fish tank with a sad face. Olle, Oski and Felle stared back at him with their big round eyes. If they had anything clever to say, they kept it to themselves. Simon dragged his feet through the day like it was Friday thirteenth instead of Christmas Eve, and not even the delicious Pabellón his mom had prepared for lunch succeeded in cheering him up. He spent the afternoon gazing out the window and watched some lonely snowflakes tumble to the ground in the dark of the Swedish wintertime while his fingers were picking at some lose threads in his curtain that a pair of tiny clawed feet had left there – very much to the dismay of his mother. His thoughts kept spinning around Wille, who was probably on his way to the Horn estate in a big black shiny car right now, and the shattered fantasies of a ridiculously perfect boyfriend-holiday got the better of him.
Hope Wilhelm has a nice Christmas after all.
But yeah – who am I trying to fool? It’s gonna be awful.
When the clock struck eight, he couldn’t bear it anymore.
“I’ll take a spin”, he called out to his mother when he put on his shoes and jacket and stepped out the back door.
If anything could lift his mood out of the frost zone, it would be a bat shaped trip to the night sky. The moment the door fell shut behind him he was up in the air, flapping his little leathery wings to cast off all the hurt and frustration of the last hours. It was good to be out, even though it was cold, but his bat fur was perfect to keep him warm, better than any jacket in the world. And it was good to get a whiff of fresh air, too, and a change of perspective with it. Simon despised the dark of the Swedish winter, when the gloom set in at lunchtime and the black of night embraced the city as early as two in the afternoon. But Batmon was different. Batmon loved the darkness. It was what he was made for and his excellent navigation skills would safely guide him through the murk – as long as there were no obstacles crossing his path like chimneys, trees or telephone poles, that was. Or houses. Or birds. Simon felt his chest expand as he lifted off, and a little cheery whistle escaped his snout. Changing into bat form had become his favorite trick when he was being overwhelmed by emotions, because things looked different through bat eyes. They suddenly appeared much simpler, stripped off their ifs and buts and maybes and only showed themselves for what they really were. Right now, Batmon was angry. So he picked up speed, spiraled through the chill night air and hissed at the couple of cooing pigeons that were perched upon the telephone wires side by side, gawking at him sideways because their glassy eyes were sitting left and right of their heads for God knows what reason. Birds were his nemesis. They either tried to eat him when he was roaming the woods or got in his way midflight and made him tumble. Doves were the worst. They lingered about the city, doing nothing but eat and shit and goroo, and ruffle their pretentious shiny feathers at him all sappy like these two. Batmon drew a few quick circles around them because he knew it made them dizzy trying to follow his movements with their unturnable heads. One fine day he would manage to make one of them drop. But not now, as his eye fell onto the beautiful Christmas decoration that was illuminating the town underneath him, the sparkling lamps and fairy lights that made the city of Bjärstad look beautiful in the dark for once. In the distance, the music of the Christmas fair sounded across the street. Batmon left the pigeons to their senseless existence, drew closer and halted above a rooftop to perch upon a little chimney and take a good look around. But the surface of the construction was icy, his pace was too high and his landing feet slipped right off. Just like a bouncy ball he toppled down onto the snowy roof tiles with a squeak but couldn’t find any grip there either. The roof slope did nothing to check his tumble, so he rolled all the way down, wrapped in more and more snow and creating a miniature avalanche until the roof gutter stopped his lurch with a pang. For a moment he sat there, blinking, belly round and white with a little pointy snow hat between his ears, two black feet sticking out of the snow pile. Batmon couldn’t pout his snout, but for sure he tried and huffed out a grouchy grunt.
Stupid roof. Stupid snow. Stupid Wille’s parents. Stupid everything.
It took him a bit of struggling to free himself from the heap of snow until he managed to find a grip for his paws, pick himself up and shake the cold powder from his fur. This day just never stopped being annoying.
Christmas spirit, my ass!
As he looked down onto the busy marketplace at his feet with as grumpy a look as a bat could produce, suddenly a sweet scent wavered around his nose. Batmon sniffed. It smelled sugar and fruit and chocolate. Instantly his anger dissolved in the ambrosial cloud of Christmas dainties, and his eyes grew big with bliss.
I knew there was something good about this place!
With a jump he was down and swooped around the little timber huts where people in thick wool jerseys sold punch and waffles and roasted chestnuts to the visitors. Batmon didn’t even know where to turn his nose first – everything smelled just so delicious! But there were also a lot of people everywhere and it was scary to get too close to them. So he hung himself from the roof of one of the little huts and eyed the colorful gingerbread hearts that were dangling right in front of his nose. He had wanted to get one of those for Wilhelm, but the disappointment over their split Christmas had obstructed that plan.
Wonder if they are good.
Stealthily, he scooched closer. There was a cute one with a blue edging, sprinkled with pink sugar hearts and decorated with some white writing that Batmon couldn’t read. It probably said ‘To my cuddly bear’ or some cheesy shit like that. Batmon didn’t care. He stretched down as far as he could reach without losing his grip, drove his pointy teeth into the brown biscuit and with a strong bite snapped one of the corners. As the crumbs of the gingerbread slowly dissolved in his mouth, Batmon had to admit that the taste of the cookie was strikingly underwhelming. The sugar coating was nice, but the gingerbread itself was dry and crisp and basically tasted like a piece of thick cardboard. Batmon should know. For he had eaten some cardboard once in pursuit of the oh so desirable raisins it had been holding. Due to the lack of hands there had been no other way of getting into the box than by chewing his way through the carton. Dumb thing was that his mom had caught him right in the act and taken the pack away, so he had been stuck with the taste of the cardboard only. The raisins had wound up safely tucked away in a glass jar, and that was the end of that. In spite of it, the little bat took another bite of the gingerbread heart for good measure, just to get more annoyed that something that looked so nice wasn’t tasty at all.
All the sweet treats are fake. They are made out of old bread.
Only Wille was not fake. He tasted sweet for real. But he wasn’t there to nip on. Batmon eyed the display of candies in the hut. The red and shiny sugar-coated apples looked gorgeous, but they were locked away behind a glass pane, and the lady behind the counter didn’t really appear like she would fancy to feed a starving little bat from her shelves. With an annoyed chirp Batmon set off. The fair was lame without someone to snuggle into in the freezing December cold and share sticky candy floss with anyway. He was just pondering upon whether he should find a better place to distract his thoughts, when the music from the ice rink caught his attention. Batmon directed his flight there to watch as some thickly padded kids tumbled around on the slippery surface on their tiny ice skates. Couples skated side by side holding hands but WHO CARED, and the occasional showoff drew fancy circles in the center of the rink. It was fun to watch and the beat of the music wired his nerves – in a good way, so Batmon dived between the swaying people, flapping his wings to the upbeat rhythm of the tune that was blasting from the speakers. He was just pirouetting about and starting to enjoy himself for a minute when he almost hit a pale face with glowing red cheeks that suddenly appeared in his path. The woman screeched and threw her hands up as Batmon shot upwards to avoid the collision, but the lady was already out of balance and landed on her prominent bum with a cry. Her boyfriend, that had been clasping her hand but was no use in checking her fall, went down on top of her, throwing his long legs into an oncoming guy who tripped and faceplanted onto the ground, taking down a mother and her son in the go who made a nice cushion for the twins in their backs that stumbled on top of them. The smashup went on for a while even after Batmon had retorted to the air high above their heads and witnessed, how in a bit less than a minute he had taken down more than half of the skaters on the rink in one uncontrolled chain reaction. The black bat looked about itself in embarrassed confusion, but after a little moment a bratty cackle escaped its chest.
Okay, that was funny.
But although the music was cool and people-bowling was hilarious, the Christmas fair with all its cheer and romantics only got him more depressed than distracted from his unasked for loneliness.
Better to leave this mess of a Christmas Eve behind and get out of this godforsaken town.
With this resolution, Batmon drew high above the rooftops and directed his flight to the north, across the country road and out into the fields. The fresh snow had covered the meadows and a perfectly white surface spread under his wings and lightened up the dark winter night even without any artificial lamps. The soothing sight of the untouched blanket of snow finally managed to soften his ill humor and make room in his chest for the loveliness of the landscape. He wouldn’t fly to Hillerska tonight, for he had no reason to go there. The one window he would want to head to would be dark, and he really didn’t need his mood to slump any lower. So Batmon took the other direction and went for the great forest on top of the hill, where a bunch of eager kids had already scratched the snowy blanket open in the afternoon with their little boots and their sledges. The dark trees stood gracefully like an enchanted forest and a curious chirp sounded from Batmon’s snout when he dived in between the high firs.
Batmon loved to be out in the woods, although it was fairly hard to avoid all the trees. Trees were tricky, for they had the nasty habit of jumping into his path out of nowhere and it was so hard to clean the sticky resin out of his facial-hair after some wholesome tree-hugging. Still the forest was one of his favorite places, even more now in winter when the ground was sprinkled with crunchy snow and the treetops glistened with frost. The sounds of the night were muffled under the blanket of snow, so Batmon had to check his flight and listen as an unknown sound reached his ears. He drove a sharp corner and when he swooped down between two huge pine trees a clearing opened right in front of him. And on that clearing stood a herd of …
Reindeer?
A surprised whistle left Batmon’s snout. He had seen wild reindeer before, back on holidays a few years ago. They were very common up in the northern districts of the country where they would roam freely in huge herds and randomly cross your path – preferably in the middle of the road with no warning. But down here in the south of Sweden, so close to the city, they were rarely seen just like that. Nine individuals he counted as he circled around them, relieved that there weren’t more because numbers above ten were difficult. The reindeer stood around a small pile of hay and languidly chewed on their dry snack. They looked friendly, so the little bat approached and perched on the huge antlers one of them carried on its head like a spiky crown. The horn that was wrapped with a fine fur felt funny under his feet. Just like the ragged carpet in Ayub’s living room. The reindeer snorted a little irritated grunt and peered up at him cross-eyed with a questioning look in its huge eyes as Batmon dangled there, right above its nose. They were brown, soft and beautiful those eyes.
Just like Wille’s.
And for a dreamy second, Batmon was thrown back to the image of Wilhelm, his handsome human boyfriend with his bangs and his dimples and his funny teeth, and a purr sounded from his little chest that came out a bit too corny to be rightfully uttered in public. Batmon braced himself. The reindeer was still curiously eying him and an embarrassed tongue flicked out of Batmon’s snout to calm his thumping heartbeat. Luckily his fluffy pelt did a good job covering the blush he could feel rising in his cheeks.
Let’s just hope mini-moose doesn’t speak bat.
What was he even thinking? It was just weird how his mind never stopped comparing each and every thing to Wilhelm, like he was the measure of all things. Like anything was comparable with him at all, so it was pretty useless to try, actually.
Stop being stupid!
Reindeer eyes were nothing like Wille eyes. Wille eyes were sparkling and tender and so damn fucking clever, while those deer eyes were huge, but also a bit watery and then it looked like the lights behind them were down on energy saving. Batmon blinked and the deer blinked back. Batmon blinked twice, the reindeer stared at him.
Yap. Definitely thick that one.
And - although friendly – it also smelled a bit too spicy for a sensitive bat nose. The scent of the deer and their warm bodies had attracted a bunch of flies that were circling around the herd, which was rare in winter and might have been a nice treat for his rumbling stomach, if Batmon had been a fly-eater. But he wasn’t. He had some grace and dignity, thank you very much! Just when Batmon considered to leave the furry animals to their haystack, a man came rumbling out of the little shed under the trees. He was dressed in dark pants, thick boots and a big coat. A fur cap with ear flaps sat on a torrent of grey hair that seemed to grow all the way down his face into a fluffy long beard. His bulbous nose was red with the cold and little puffs of breath escaped his mouth as he shuffled towards a vehicle that stood parked next to the shed. Batmon had never seen a sledge that huge. He wasn’t sure if it could even slide on the little bit of snow that was on the ground. But then he didn’t really care, for Batmon had wings – and wings were fit to get him everywhere. As long as he didn’t forget to flap them, that was.
Not like that had happened. More than twice. The first time he had crashed onto the wet grass in the back yard of their house. He had just started to learn how to be a bat out in the open, for he had figured that hopping from his bed and desk in his small boy room for practice would no longer do to eventually take flight. So when he had collected all the courage he could muster, pushed off the bathroom window sill and finally managed to climb up into the air, getting the flapping moves right for the first time, he had been so fascinated by his achievement that he had just stopped midair. This was also the day he had learned that a solid body went down much faster than up through the air and his plump bat-form had a tendency to somersault. Which was highly ungraceful and embarrassing and therefore something he would absolutely one hundred percent NEVER do again.
The second time he had fallen from the sky had occurred on a beautiful summer evening, when he had cruised the lake and found a bunch of students from that expensive-ass boarding school bathing and having a bonfire at the shore. He wouldn’t normally have cared for them at all, if there hadn’t been a tall and lean figure emerging from the waves in the glowing sunset, skin and hair gleaming golden and the most beautiful laugh on his lips. Batmon had been dumbstruck by the cute face and the dangling long teenage-limbs, the dripping bath trunks and the little ahhs and outches the boy had uttered as he had staggered across the gravel on his bare feet. Batmon couldn’t see clear enough on the flight, so he had just decided to stop and stare. Only – he had forgotten that he wasn’t on his bike like usual, and the staring very promptly made way for an unchecked tumble into the thorny shrubs. It was then, the idea had formed in his little head to pay a visit to Hillerska more often – and maybe get another glimpse of the cutesy boy in his natural habitat. The boy whose ultrasound echo was pure perfection and had resounded in his brain until the break of day. So this second downtime was hardly his own fault. He would hold Wilhelm accountable for it one fine day and have him compensate the thorns he had to pull from his nose and palms in the morning with his mom’s tweezers.
Batmon let go of the antlers of the stinky-deer and fluttered over to where the man was busying himself with loading the sleigh. The little bat hung itself from the rain gutter of the warped shed and eyed him as he piled huge bags and boxes onto the seats, just like a big and busy Christmas elf. The man was gasping with effort and Batmon would have liked to help, but he was tiny and the boxes big enough to hold a bat’s ten-year supply of raisins – and more. He couldn’t even carry the weight of an average banana in his little claws on the flight, very much to his suffering. But that much he knew for sure. For he had tried. Because his mom would only portion him a slice or two of the delicious squishy fruit every time, and even Wille – traitor that he was – could not be persuaded to give him more after a certain sugar driven incident in his dorm room back in summer. So Batmon had wanted to steal one for himself from the family fruit bowl, which had turned out to be a futile attempt. He had tugged so hard, flapping his little wings to no avail, that the imprints of his little claws had dug into the banana peel. His mother had given him a reproachful glance when she’d spotted them – although Batmon had really done nothing at all.
NO-THING.
The most annoying thing was, that he tended to forget about this tormenting fruit-craving the moment he was back in his boy-body, so his human form was no help either and the bat’s secret dream of a successful banana-kidnapping had yet to come true. The man paused his shuffling, gasped again and brushed over his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his coat. But his glasses got caught in the fabric of his coat and were ripped from his nose in the move.
“Oh, no!”, he exclaimed as he blinked with irritation and looked about himself searchingly, but the thinly rimmed glasses were almost invisible on the icy ground – for the man at least.
Batman could easily spot them. The grandpa turned about himself and was short from crushing the instrument under his heavy boot, when Batmon started off his lookout, swept down and fetched the glasses from the ground – not a second too late. He might not be a lucky banana-thief, but some delicate glasses he could carry. And wherever that man was heading in the middle of the night, it was surely not a good idea to steer that heavy sledge blind like a mole. Especially considered the moronic reindeer that probably were about to pull it. With two big fingers the old man took the glasses from the little bat that was fluttering in front of his nose, and his frown turned into a smile and the smile into a heartfelt laugh at the prompt service.
“Look at this”, the man chuckled. “I’ve got a visitor. Thank you very much my little friend. Wait, I think I’ve got something for you.”
He dug around his coat pocket until he brought up a handful of dried fruit. Batmon perched on his gloved hand and sniffed, intrigued by the friendly warmth that person radiated and the unearthly smell of the goodies in his palm. Batmon knew he should not eat what random people offered him. But he could not hold back – this scent was just too heavenly. Clutching the thumb of the glove, Batmon stretched his nose as far as it would go without him toppling over.
“Just go ahead. You can have them. Thank you for your service, little fella”, the bearded man chuckled encouragingly.
Batmon rolled out his tongue and finally managed to sweep up one of the crumpled fruits. The moment he bit down, little chimes started to ring in his ears and a bunch of colorful sparks exploded in his mind’s eye.
Cloudberries!
The fruit were dried cloudberries – a delicacy he’d only ever eaten once, when his aunt had brought a little box of them down from Kiruna. They tasted like honey and vanilla, a little sour and super sweet, like literal love to eat. The man huffed as he watched Batmon jump from his thumb with a delighted squeak and land in the middle of his palm, turning about himself to suck up all the crumbs and pieces he could find.
“Ho ho, that’s a treat, right?”, the dark voice of the man rumbled.
Batmon looked at him, overjoyed. As he couldn’t smile with his pointy snout, he gave him his biggest thank you-eyes he could create. The man held him up in front of his face and squinted his eyes under bushy brows, scrutinizing the little animal in a friendly way.
“Christmas is near my friend. Wonder if there’s a special wish hiding in this little kind heart of yours.”
Batmon blinked. There weren’t too many wishes he could think of. He had everything he needed – a cozy house – two even, if he counted his little glass castle back in Wille’s dorm room, a warm bed, a loving family (annoying sisters included), a belly full of cloudberries and the most beautiful, sweet and smart boyfriend. On top of it all, he could shape-shift into a bat – or into a boy from his momentary bat-perspective – so basically life was a blast. If only Wilhelm would not have to spend Christmas with his stupid cousin and he could kiss him under the mistletoe like in a cheesy American holiday movie. But apart from that, he was the happiest bat in the forest. Batmon’s eye fell onto the piles of bags and packages behind the old man. He really wanted to know what the huge load in the sleigh was for, so he jumped into the air and perched upon the topmost bag. The man chuckled again. He seemed to be a really merry fellow.
“You’re curious what’s in there? More gifts my friend, gifts and treats for everybody.”
Batmon didn’t really know what to make of this. How could the man have gifts for everyone? But then, he’d offered treats to him. The finest, sweetest most tasty treats ever – apart maybe from Wilhelm’s kisses in the early mornings, when Simon crept into his bed after a long night out. But nothing compared to Wille’s soft touch – not even the unusual flavor of dried cloudberries. Still, if the man had more presents to share that were equally nice as the cloudberries, Batmon found that he was a very amicable person. The black bat watched as the man started to collect the reindeer and harness them to the sleigh one behind the other. It looked neat and nice, the furry draft animals and their heavy load – just like on one of those Christmas cards that were sold during holiday season. The sleigh creaked softly when the big man climbed the coachman’s seat and made himself comfortable on a thick blanket.
“Shall we?”, he asked and clicked his tongue. With a small hitch the sleigh started to move. Batmon was almost brushed off his seat from the air draft and he quickly spread his wings to escape the rumbling underneath him. With some strong flaps of his wings he drew near the face of the man. The lips in his round face were smiling, cheeks glowing red and beard fluttering in the chill of the wind. Batmon could not remember how they had gotten out of the forest into the open field, but the sleigh was going faster and faster and his little wings could no longer keep up with the speed of the vehicle. The reindeer might be dumb as toast, but they could run like crazy. Batmon drew a last small looping around the man’s head and the gramps let out his merry laugh again. He put a hand up and waved.
“Goodbye, Simon! Have a beautiful Christmas!”
A second later, the man and the sleigh were gone in a cloud of puffy snow and the little bat veered to head home. The moon was fully up already and he had promised his mom to be back before midnight. All the way to Bjärstad, his thoughts kept circling around the funny meetup and the new friend he had made. When he swooped into the house through the kitchen window his mom had left ajar for him, he felt much lighter around the heart than earlier that day. His mom and sister were sitting on the couch, wrapped in a horrible pair of matching Christmas jumpers, and crafting sparkling tree decoration. The table was littered with glass balls, ribbons, stickers, glue and glitter boxes. Batmon checked his speed and shifted midflight to touch down smoothly on his boy’s feet right in the middle of the living room. The trick was really impressive and he had worked on it for weeks, producing a wide range of marks and bruises on his limbs and a bit of displaced furniture in the process. Only his mom and sister would not be affected by this kind of entry any more. If anything, his mother gave him a questioning look.
“Where have you been so long, amor? We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Sorry”, Simon smiled as he grabbed a tangerine from the fruit bowl. “I lost track of time. Did I miss something?”
“Not something – someone”, Linda smirked and cast her eyes to the side, where Wilhelm – clad in track pants, a cozy knit sweater and socks – was just emerging from a visit to the bathroom.
Simon’s eyes grew wide at the surprise.
What the …?
The tangerine went to the floor and with a jump he was in Wille’s arms.
“What are you doing here?”, he gasped unbelieving, as he had expected having to content himself with a daily quick goodnight call over the holiday weeks.
But now he was here in his own house, live and in person – on Christmas Eve! Simon couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering inside his chest at the prospect of sharing the cozy Christmas night with Wille, wrapped in his arms, lips on his skin. It was almost too good to be true.
“August has broken his leg, so the Horns stayed up in Jämtland for the holidays”, Wille explained with a smile that was inappropriate given the reason for it. “His mom called and said she was oh so sorry. And even though I'm DEVASTATED at the situation of my beloved cousin – who seems to be too stupid to ski, but who is surprised, and therefore needs to stay in bed the next two or three weeks, poor soul – I asked Linda if she would have me for the holidays.”
Simon’s eyes grew even wider with joy.
“The holidays? Like the complete holidays?”
“It can get a bit narrow in your small room for two weeks, so if you want I can sleep on the couch and Wille can have my room”, Linda offered, but the boys were quick to ensure it would be fine – very fine, super fine, absolutely finey diney – to share.
Sara rolled her eyes and pretended to vomit over the armrest of the couch. Simon was just about to flip her off, when Wilhelm caught his hand midair and gently squeezed it.
He’s right. No risks of trouble at this point. You better get those headphones ready, sissy, ‘cause there’s gonna be a lot of smooching going on next door those upcoming days.
At this, a recollection popped up in Simon’s mind. It had been far away like most of the things that had initially been created in Batmon’s little head – but THIS one he did remember. He softly tugged on Wille’s sleeve and pulled him towards the arch between kitchen and living room, where a small branch of mistletoe was dangling on a checkered ribbon. Simon looked up at his boyfriend, teeth abashedly buried deep in his lower lip as he waited for him to make his wish come true – the ONE Christmas wish he had really had. With a cheeky smile, Wille put his hands around his waist and pulled him close, nose brushing against Simon’s as he bent down.
“So kiss me under the mistletoe”, Simon chanted the Christmas-hit under his warm breath.
“My God you look beautiful”, Wilhelm whispered back right before their lips met.
The kiss was the best, the sweetest thing Simon had ever tasted, sweeter than tangerines, sweeter than hot chocolate and sweeter than – cloudberries? The kiss seemed to last forever, and only when Simon’s mom repeatedly cleared her throat with an emphasis the boys could be persuaded to part again, hands fiddling and heart-eyes all over. Simon’s heart jumped and he couldn’t hold in the joy of every crazy thing that had happened that night any longer. With a broad grin he popped, and a tiny black bat fluttered through the air, sped around the Christmas tree in a spiral and swooshed over the heads of the people in the room who tittered away at his wild acrobatics. Sara only shook her head at his outbreak, but that wouldn’t stop Batmon from rushing up the wall and looping around the hanging lamp.
“Stop it!”, Linda eventually yelled when she had witnessed enough of his crazy flight. “You’re going to break something.”
With a chirpy twitter Batmon slowed down and set out to land on the coffee table. Only he had forgotten it was packed with crafting material. He tried to abort his touchdown but it was too late. Feet first and wings spread he rushed right into the pile of pearls and stars and drawstrings at full throttle, toppled over and came to a stop in an impressive puff of gold dust. When he shook his head and opened his eyes, three faces were hanging over him – one concerned, one annoyed and one cracking up with laughter. Batmon rolled his eyes and scrambled to his feet. When he shook his head, little golden sparkles trailed down from his fur. He looked at himself and found, he was wrapped in golden glitter from ear to toe. The tiny plastic pieces stuck to his fur and made him look like a disco ball. Wille reached out his hand and the bat scrambled on it, a little frown masking the moping bat face.
“Oh my God, that was funny”, Sara wheezed from her place at the couch.
“You look like a Christmas ball now”, Wilhelm grinned at the bat on his palm.
The said bat tilted its head in a cute angle like it was contemplating on something. Then it hopped from Wille’s hand and drew a small circle around his family, letting a cloud of fairy dust rain down over their heads until he approached the Christmas tree, found the perfect spot and hung from a branch like the cutest little glitter ball with pointy ears there ever was.
Linda let out a heartfelt laugh.
“Feliz navidad”, she cheered and gave her daughter a hug.
“Yeah, merry Christmas”, Sara chuckled under her grin.
Wilhelm pulled up to the tree and poked the little furball so it swung a bit, eliciting some happy clicks from the batboy.
“God Jul, you crazy thing”, the blond boy smiled.
“This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!”