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This winter was the coldest it'd ever been in Dallas—the coldest it'd ever get, as well, Rawly guessed. Sure, it got cold during December, but not like this. It was strange to say, but it truly felt like all was right in the world. He hadn't been through anything as rough as Freshmen year since it ended.
Now it was two years since the Nikki Demetrius fiasco; he was sixteen, out at the bustling markets, doing last-minute Christmas shopping for his mom. His knit, burgundy colored scarf hugged his neck, fending off the stinging chill nipping at his tan skin. He struggled to carry five bags at once; two beneath his arm, two in his left hand, three in his right. Not to mention his phone cluttering his gloved hands further as he read his mom's texts over again, just to make sure he remembered everything.
He slumped onto an old bench by the cozy corner store he’d passed many times, dropping all of his groceries on the sidewalk at his feet.
Remember to get extra corn husks. We need enough to make tamales for ourselves and the restaurant.
He sighed, his breath visible in the air. His mom really never knew when to relax, even during the holidays. And to be honest, he really needed a break from working at La Chichen-Itza, too.
Strangers passed on the street in their woolen winter clothes. Signs lit up down the road reading Xmas in flashing red and green lights. Rawly saw some heads turn at him. It didn’t faze him. People recognizing him in the street had slowed, but not stopped entirely. Sometimes people from his school’s grandparents would ask if he was 'that boy who saved Nikki Demetrius." He’d just smile and nod. He was used to it.
He was also used to late Christmas celebrations like the one this year since Jamie was sentenced. But it was all still better than playing town hero at fourteen. Maybe some Christmas lights would have still been nice, though.
Rawly startled as he heard a booming elderly voice from infront of him.
"Excuse me," the voice said. "Are you that boy who was in the paper?"
Rawly panicked somewhat. His short, loosely curly brown-almost-black hair was a mess from rushing around the shops, and he was almost certain he had some kind of stain somewhere on his clothing. "Uh, yeah, I..."
He tilted his head up, expecting a frail old man; instead, he was met with… red, neatly groomed curls. A familiar freckled face smirked at him like he'd gotten away with something. He was in a ridiculously festive reindeer beanie, because of course he was.
"Nevin," Rawly realized aloud.
"In the flesh," Nevin said.
He was still corny as ever... meaning as corny as he was last week when they'd hung out. Rawly smiled despite himself. He didn’t usually like to indulge Nevin's antics, but usually doesn't mean never. "What are you doing here?" He asked.
"Holiday shopping. Same as you." Nevin glanced down at Rawly's bags.
"Right... so what was with the old man voice?"
Nevin shrugged with an impish smile. Then a feminine voice—his mom—called from the distance, catching his attention. He seemed disappointed. "I got to go, Rawls. I'll catch you later."
And then he was gone.
The front door clicked open as a disgruntled Rawly walked in. His jacket wound up thrown onto the coat rack and his gloves were torn from his nearly frozen hands. He slowly peeled his shoes off, struggling slightly.
"Mom?" He called.
She called back from the kitchen, "Put the groceries on the counter, Rawly!"
His mom resumed speaking Spanish over the landline, presumably to one of his aunties or uncles. Her voice always grew a few decibels when she spoke Spanish, making Rawly wince at the sensation hitting his ears as he entered the kitchen and set the groceries down. He couldn't blame her, though; it must have been freeing for her, giving her a type of special confidence. It was always like that speaking your mother tongue, right? Rawly supposed it wasn't the same for him since he was more Americanized, even living with his very Hispanic family and speaking Spanish fluently.
Rawly's mom said her goodbyes and clicked the phone back into the wall, turning to her son. "Thank you for getting the groceries."
"It's no problem, mom." He was being honest. He needed to get out more, anyway.
Rawly had just finished putting the last grocery bag away, scrubbing the cold from his fingers by rubbing his palms together, when the doorbell rang. A loud, fast ringing, like whoever was at their doorstep had pressed it multiple times out of impatience. Rawly rushed to open the door.
Nevin stood at their doorstep in the cold in his jacket, nose and cheeks flushed against pale skin. His hands were holding a sloppily wrapped gift box as he leaned halfway into the open front door, making Rawly flinch.
"Nevin?"
His friend entered the house casually, as if Rawly acknowledging the sight of him was an invitation. He rubbed his boots against the mat right at the door, then strutted to the living room and set his gift on the coffee table. He slithered out of his heavy, thick coat.
"Dude, why are you here?" Rawly demanded.
"Well, I don’t have any hot babes to spend this December with, soo—" he outstretched his arms like he was waiting for a hug with a wide, toothy smile. "—I decided to spend Christmas with you this year."
Rawly raised a skeptical brow. "Nevin, you're Jewish."
The boy had already discarded the scarf from around his neck and slung himself over the sofa. He sat sprawled out languidly. "Yeah, doesn’t mean I can't visit."
That was odd coming from the same guy who scolded him for even mentioning Easter once, but he brushed it off.
"Won't your mom freak out?"
"Nah." Nevin waved a dismissive hand. "She doesn't care. It's your house, after all."
That sounded about right to Rawly. Mrs. Steinburg would drop any concerns at the mention of Rawly being wherever Nevin was going. She may just have let him light their house on fire so long as Rawly was there to supervise.
The dark-haired boy's gaze darted back to the table where Nevin's present sat. At least he hadn't come empty-handed.
Rawly stepped inside fully and shut the front door, engulfing the room in warm air. The house smelled like good food in the oven, all the spices and herbs' scents wafting from the kitchen. The Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, its branches dripping with ornaments collected over the decades—glittery, flimsy kindergarten craftsmanship, cheap dollar store baubles, a lopsided angel he'd made in second grade hung on by a rubber band at the top. Little golden lights blinked around the tree, along with traditional clunky red and green ones dotting the leaves. And who could ever forget the tacky virgin Mary and Jesus candles lining the mantle. His mom really never skipped out, especially so since business began booming.
"The place looks nice," Nevin said.
"Thanks." Rawly sat at the couch beside Nevin, having to nudge him over for space.
"Oh, Nevin!" Rawly's mom said, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she stepped into the living room. She smiled politely, the kind of smile that said I am happy to see you but also why are you here without warning. "Why are you here?"
"I decided to spend Christmas with you guys."
Rawly wanted to sink into the couch. But his mom seemed completely fine with it, just headed back to the kitchen and could be heard telling Fredo something about fresh ingredients being brought in.
Rawly and Nevin blinked over at each other.
It was a stop-by of pure convenience, but who was Rawly to turn his best friend away, especially since it didn't seem to bother his mom.
"So..." Nevin drawled, batting his lashes at Rawly. "You get me anything?"
"...Are you serious?"
"Rawls, it's the season of giving." He pressed a hand to his chest. "And I am open to receiving."
Rawly sighed through his nose, long and put-upon, then exhaled. "Yeah. I, uh, actually got you something."
Nevin's face lit up. "You did?"
Before Rawly could reply, his mom stepped back into the room, hair slightly frizzed from the kitchen’s heat, purse already slung over her shoulder.
"Rawly," she said, grabbing her coat from the coat rack by the front door, "I need to run out. I forgot to tell you to get the masa harina I told your tío we already had, and you know how he gets if the masa isn’t the 'right texture.'" She mimed air quotes with full exasperation. "I'll be back in twenty minutes."
"You want me to go with you?" Asked Rawly.
"No, Rawly. Stay here with Nevin." She shot Nevin a pointed look. "You two behave."
Nevin sat up straight and saluted. "Ma'am, I am always well-behaved."
The door clicked shut behind her. Nevin slumped back into the couch, then pointed upward. "Hey, dude... is that a mistletoe?"
Rawly followed his gaze. Hung above the corner near the tree—crookedly, taped on in a rush—was indeed a sprig of mistletoe dangling from a gold ribbon.
"Oh no," Rawly muttered. "She put that up again."
Nevin's eyes widened with amusement. "Again? As in this isn’t the first time your mom has set up a kiss-trap in the living room?"
"It's not a kiss-trap. She just gets excited about decorations."
Nevin seemed to contemplate Rawly's words. He squinted up at the mistletoe. "Well, I guess it isn't technically a kiss-trap. It's not like you brought Miyoko home with you."
Rawly exaggeratedly stuck his tongue out and smacked Nevin in the arm. "Gross!"
Nevin snickered, dimples deep, rubbing the spot on his arm Rawly had punched. Rawly exhaled through his nose, holding back a laugh.
"Anyway," Rawly muttered, "you wanna exchange gifts?"
"Absolutely. Let's start with mine." He reached for the poorly wrapped box on the table and slid it toward Rawly with both hands.
Then he came down to the maroon tree skirt where he sat on his knees, lit from behind by the christmas lights. "¡Mi favorito chico! Venda aqui!" Came a butchered declaration from Nevin as he patted the rug in front of him
Rawly listened and sat across from him with the gift box. The boy got to take a good look at the present. The paper, a garish shade of foil red, was not quite large enough for the box, hugging it tightly. In contrast, the silk green ribbon atop the present was well tied, making the poor wrapping slightly charming when seen altogether.
Rawly undid the bow as Nevin watched with glee.
He tugged at the sealed corner...
Then slowly pulled the lid aside...
POP!
A monstrous, spring-loaded clown leapt out of the box with a shrill laugh and plastic fangs bared. It bobbled in place, eyes unblinking, mouth stretched into a hysterical painted scream.
Rawly yelped. "Agh! Nevin!"
Nevin was doubled over in laughter. "Dude, you should have seen your face!"
"You're an idiot."
"Yep," Nevin chirped. "Anyway, that wasn't your actual gift. That was just the appetizer."
"What the hell kind of appetizer is that?"
Nevin ignored him and patted his back pocket. "Your real gift is this." He pulled out a folded letter written on yellowish paper, the envelope stamped and creased.
"What is that?" Rawly said.
"A letter," Nevin said simply. "For you..."
Nevin's smile softened.
"From Jaime."
Rawly blinked at the folded letter, his hands suddenly feeling clumsy, like they might crush it if he didn’t hold it carefully. Nevin leaned back slightly, grin fading to a softer, expectant expression, watching him intently.
"Uh... Nevin," Rawly began, "you didn’t have to—"
Nevin waved a dismissive hand. "Dude, I did. It's the least I could do, right?"
"Well, now my gift doesn’t seem that great."
"Just show me it."
Rawly sat there for a moment. The tree lights blinked lazily in the dimness, casting shifting warm colors on Nevin's face—green, red, green again—reflecting subtly in his eyes.
"Show me yours," Nevin repeated. "I wanna see what you picked.'
Rawly swallowed. Nevin looked so... earnest all of a sudden. He wasn't playing Santa's-worst-elf anymore. "Okay, just hold on."
He stood up quickly, almost tripping over the displaced tree skirt on his way down the hall. He pushed open his bedroom door. He grabbed the small box wrapped in plain white paper. He hadn't even tied a ribbon. Compared to Nevin's monstrosity of red foil and spring-loaded murder-clown, his looked like something from the clearance bin.
Nevin sat cross-legged, waiting, rocking slightly in anticipation like a little kid.
"Here," Rawly said, placing the box into Nevin's waiting palms.
Nevin grinned, immediately shaking it next to his ear. Rawly held in a laugh.
He tore the paper.
He pulled out a comic set.
It wasn't much, just some old horror comics from the 80s that Nevin always talked about. He managed to find them after scouring various comic and horror shops.
"You actually found it? Rawls, thank you—really!"
Nevin was beaming; his eyes lit up like fireworks. Rawly bit the inside of his cheek.
"It still doesn't feel like enough," Rawly said.
"Dude, don't feel bad. Not everyone can—"
Rawly leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Nevin's lips before pulling back. There, now they were even. Nevin's ears burned red. His gaze darted up at the mistletoe above them, then back at the boy in front of him. For a moment it seemed he had run out of quips, but—
"I was... expecting more tongue."
Rawly sighed, but his lips still pressed together in a lopsided smile. "Happy holidays, Nevin."
Nevin smirked. "Feliz Navidad, Rawly."