Archive of Our Own

Victor stirs in his bed as he feels rays of sunshine warming his face. A soft grunt escapes him before he turns even further into the mattress, trying to hide behind Matthew, but when he does, the rays don’t get blocked at all. So he reluctantly cracks one eye open, only to immediately notice that Matthew’s side of the bed is empty.

A small frown makes its way onto his forehead, his half-asleep, half-awake state rendering him more confused than he usually is.

Veky looks blearily around his bedroom, trying to piece together his memory, but nothing out of the ordinary happened the night before—he knows that much. He and Schaef went to have dinner with the Martins, spent some time with the girls and the twins back at their house playing around before eventually driving home to Veky’s flat, since Schaef still lives with the Martins.

They didn’t fight either. Once they got home, they changed into comfortable clothes, grabbed some ice cream for dessert, brushed their teeth, and eventually fell asleep after a pillow fight. Besides, they never really fight or argue—just some small bickering here and there—but they absolutely can’t stay mad at each other for more than five minutes.

Victor feels worry claw its way up his chest as he straightens up, letting the comforter pool around his waist before calling out for Matthew.

“Matty?” he calls softly, but loud enough for it to echo through the flat. No response comes his way, so Victor tries again. “Älskling, where are you?”

But once again, no response comes from Schaef. So Veky finally pushes himself out of bed, tossing the comforter off his legs and immediately feeling the cold February air hit his skin. He slips his socked feet into his slippers before marching out of his bedroom, listening carefully for any sound that might indicate whether Schaef is home or not.

As he moves through the hallway, dragging his feet and rubbing at his eyes with one hand, the collar of Matthew’s oversized t-shirt—the one he wore to sleep the night before—slips slightly, revealing one of his collarbones, but Victor pays it no mind. He just needs to know where Matthew is.

Eventually, Victor emerges from the hallway and into the living room, his eyes immediately landing on Matthew sitting on the small couch that occupies the balcony. His boyfriend’s gaze is focused on something Victor can’t quite make out from where he’s standing, but he does notice the cup of tea cradled between Matthew’s hands.

A relieved sigh escapes him before he even registers it, and then he’s padding across the room toward the sliding glass doors. He pulls one open and steps outside into the cold February morning air of Long Island.

As soon as he reaches Matthew, Victor slides a hand around the back of his neck and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Morning, älskling.”

Matthew hums softly in response. Veky smiles faintly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. Matthew kisses him back, but only briefly, pulling away almost immediately.

The gesture makes Victor frown.

He settles down beside him on the couch and turns slightly in his seat. “Is something wrong?”

Matthew shakes his head faintly. But his eyes are distant. Avoidant. Like something is very clearly bothering him, yet he doesn’t want to burden Victor with it—which is completely absurd.

“Are you sure?” Victor asks gently.

Matthew worries at his bottom lip for a moment before finally speaking. “Do you know what day it is?”

Victor furrows his brows. “It’s February…” He trails off. “Something. I’m not really sure what date it is exactly.”

Then he glances at Schaef. “Why?”

Matthew visibly swallows. And that’s when Victor notices the tears gathering in his eyes.

The realization hits him immediately. It’s February 24th. The anniversary of his mom’s death.

Victor feels as though his chest caves in on itself. His expression softens instantly as he tilts his head and moves his hand from the back of Matthew’s neck to rest against his cheek, his thumb brushing softly along his cheekbone.

Matthew leans into the touch immediately. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Victor hastily shakes his head. “Hey, no. Never apologize for your emotions.”

Matthew nods. For a moment, silence settles between them.

Then Victor asks softly, “Are you hungry?”

Matthew lets out a quiet breath. “I was going to make breakfast when I woke up, but…” He glances down at his tea. “I saw the date on my phone. The reminder popped up, and I kind of forgot what I was doing.”

Victor’s eyes sting. But he offers him a small smile anyway. “That’s okay.” He squeezes his cheek gently. “I’ll take care of breakfast. You can stay here and enjoy your tea while I cook.”

Matthew immediately makes that face. The one Victor has learned to recognize over the course of their relationship since October. The guilty one. The one that says he hates letting Victor do everything for him.

Before Matthew can argue, Victor reaches for him and pulls him closer, sealing their lips together in a long, soft, warm kiss. One meant to reassure him more than anything else.

When they finally pull apart, Victor rubs his thumb along Matthew’s cheek once more before standing up.

“I’ll be right back.”

Matthew nods.

Victor heads back inside the flat, immediately welcoming the slightly warmer air despite the thermostat being turned down after they’d forgotten to adjust it when they got home from dinner.

So the first thing he does is walk over to the thermostat and raise the temperature.

Then he heads into the open kitchen and starts pulling ingredients from the fridge—eggs, sausages, hash browns, avocados, fresh fruit, and the waffle batter he’d made two days earlier. Once everything is laid out on the counter, Victor gets to work.

Every now and then, he glances over his shoulder through the balcony doors just to make sure Matthew is still sitting outside. He always is.

And about halfway through plating everything, Victor’s phone suddenly rings. He pauses and reaches for it. The second he sees the caller ID, a huge smile spreads across his face.

“Mamma!”

As soon as Mia’s face appears on the screen, he greets her warmly in Swedish.

She smiles right back. “Did I wake you up?”

Victor laughs. “No, I’ve been awake for a while. I’m making breakfast for me and Schaef.”

At the mention of Matthew, Mia’s smile grows even more fond. “Oh? Did he sleep over?”

“He did. We had dinner with the Martins last night.”

Mia nods knowingly. “I just wanted to check in on you,” she says. “And tell you I’ll be landing in New York tomorrow for your game.”

Victor’s smile immediately brightens. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

For the next several minutes they talk about everything and nothing. Mia tells him what she’s been up to back home, including a few stories involving his older brother William in San Jose, and Victor finds himself laughing more than once.

Eventually, they say goodbye and end the call.

As Victor turns back toward the kitchen counter to finish plating the waffles, his eyes immediately land on Matthew. He’s standing near the marble island now, tea cup still clutched between his hands. His eyes are glistening and Victor’s heart breaks.

Without a second thought, he places the waffles onto their plates before hurrying across the kitchen and wrapping his arms around Matthew.

The second he does, a broken sob tears from Matthew’s throat. His own arms come around Victor instantly as he buries his face in the crook of his neck.

Victor blinks away his own tears. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand slowly up and down Matthew’s back. “Get it all out. You don’t have to hold everything inside when you’re with me.”

Matthew’s grip tightens. His sobs only grow stronger. And Victor holds him through every single one. Eventually, after several long minutes, Matthew starts to calm down.

He pulls back slightly—though not very far—and wipes at his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs.

Victor immediately shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize for missing your mom.”

Matthew’s lips wobble.

“You can cry as much as you need to,” Victor continues softly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.”

Matthew nods. “I didn’t mean to cry,” he admits quietly. “It just happened.”

Victor waits patiently.

“When I walked inside, I heard you talking to your mom on FaceTime.”

His voice cracks.

“I just… wish I could do that too.”

Victor’s eyes sting again.

He gently wipes away a few stray tears from Matthew’s face.

“You don’t have to explain anything.”

Matthew looks at him.

“Your feelings will always be valid. Always. And if you ever feel like they aren’t…” Victor squeezes his hands. “Come to me.”

A faint nod follows.

Then Victor rises onto his tiptoes and peppers Matthew’s face with kisses until a tiny smile finally appears.

“There he is.”

Matthew lets out a watery laugh.

Victor grins. “Now sit.”

Matthew narrows his eyes playfully.

“Sit.”

With another laugh, Matthew obeys and takes a seat at the island while Victor retrieves their plates.

Once he has them, he places one in front of Matthew and the other in front of his own seat before settling beside him.

For a minute or two, they simply eat in comfortable silence.

Then Matthew speaks. “I wish my mom had gotten to meet you.”

Victor pauses, his hand stilling halfway across the marble surface as he was about to reach for his glass of juice.

Matthew stares down at his plate. “She would’ve loved you.”

Victor’s chest tightens. “You think so?”

Matthew nods, smiling softly. “I know so. She loved everyone I loved. Family, friends…” His smile grows slightly. “Just like she loves the Martins.”

Victor glances at him. “How do you know she loves the Martins?”

Matthew lets out a quiet laugh. “Because every time I play outside with one of the girls, or the twins, or even when I’m just hanging out on the patio with Sydney and Marty…” His eyes soften. “A ladybug always lands on one of them.”

Victor’s breath catches.

“A couple weeks before she passed away, she told me that if she ever died, all I’d have to do was look for a ladybug and I’d know she was still with me.”

Tears immediately gather in Victor’s eyes. He reaches across the island and extends his hand. Matthew takes it without hesitation, their fingers lacing together naturally.

Then Matthew lifts Victor’s hand and presses a kiss against the back of it. Victor smiles through his tears and returns the gesture. And for the first time that morning, the weight pressing against Matthew’s shoulders seems just a little bit lighter.

After that, they continue eating their breakfast while still holding hands across the kitchen island, neither of them making any move to let go. Their food eventually disappears from their plates little by little, accompanied by quiet conversation and comfortable silences that don’t need to be filled.

Every now and then, Victor catches Matthew looking at him from the corner of his eye, and each time it happens, Schaef’s expression looks a little lighter than before. The sadness is still there—Victor knows grief doesn’t simply disappear—but it no longer looks quite as crushing as it had earlier that morning. By the time they’re done eating, both of them are smiling faintly.

Together, they clear the kitchen island. Matthew puts away the bottle of orange juice while Victor gathers their plates and glasses. Neither of them says much as they move around each other with the ease that comes from spending so much time together. Whenever one reaches for something, the other instinctively shifts out of the way. Whenever one forgets something, the other remembers. It’s a rhythm they’ve developed without ever discussing it.

Once everything is rinsed off and loaded into the dishwasher, Matthew reaches for Victor’s hand again, lacing their fingers together before tugging him toward the bathroom.

Inside, Victor immediately reaches for both toothbrushes.

Matthew smiles softly as he watches him. “You know I can do it myself, right?”

Victor snorts. “I know.”

“Yet you’re still doing it.”

“Yep.”

Matthew’s smile widens.

Victor wets both toothbrushes before carefully adding toothpaste and handing one over. Then they start flossing first, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the mirror. Like always, the distance between them gradually disappears without either of them consciously deciding to move.

By the time they’re actually brushing their teeth, Matthew has wrapped an arm around Victor’s waist while Victor leans comfortably back against his chest. Their reflections stare back at them from the mirror, looking ridiculous with mouths full of toothpaste and sleepy eyes, but somehow Victor wouldn’t want it any other way.

Once they’re done, they wash their faces side by side. Cold water splashes against their skin. Matthew immediately hisses while Victor laughs.

“Wimp.”

“It’s freezing.”

“That’s the point.”

Matthew narrows his eyes at him and Victor grins right back.

A few minutes later, they make their way toward the bedroom.

The moment they step inside, they immediately begin making the bed together. Victor pulls the comforter into place while Matthew fluffs the pillows. It’s another one of those little routines they’ve unknowingly built together over the months. One that makes Victor’s chest feel warm every single time.

Halfway through straightening the last pillow, Matthew’s phone suddenly starts ringing.

Both of them glance toward the nightstand. The screen lights up. It’s Johnny, so Matthew immediately abandons the bed and reaches for his phone.

“Hey.”

He accepts the FaceTime call. And a second later Johnny’s face fills the screen.

“Well, look who’s alive.”

Matthew rolls his eyes affectionately. “Good morning to you too.”

Johnny laughs. Victor can’t help smiling as he climbs onto the bed beside Matthew.

“How are you doing?” Matthew asks.

Johnny shrugs. “Pretty good. Busy, but good.” Then his gaze shifts between both of them. “How about you guys?”

Victor stays quiet. Not because Johnny dislikes him—quite the opposite, actually—but he knows exactly who that question is really for.

Matthew seems to realize it too. He lets out a small breath. “I could be better.” Johnny’s expression immediately softens. “But I’m gonna be okay,” Matthew adds quickly.

Johnny nods slowly. “I know you will.”

For a second, neither brother says anything. Then Johnny’s eyes shift toward Victor.

“What about you, Veky?”

Victor smiles. “I’m doing okay Jay, thanks for asking.”

The conversation slowly moves on after that. They spend the next several minutes catching up, talking about family, hockey, upcoming games, and whatever random subjects happen to cross their minds. Johnny tells them a story that makes both of them laugh, Matthew complains about something completely insignificant, and for a little while the heaviness of the day doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

Eventually, Johnny glances at something off-screen. “I should probably get going.”

Matthew nods. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Then Johnny points at Victor. “Take care of him.”

Victor’s smile softens. “Always.”

Satisfied, Johnny hangs up and the screen goes dark. For a moment, the room falls silent again.

Then Victor nudges Matthew’s shoulder. “Want to go for a walk or watch something?”

Matthew considers it. “A walk.”

Victor immediately nods. “Okay.”

They both stand and head toward the closet. Naturally, Matthew walks straight to his side. Because of course he has his own side. He spends half his life at Victor’s flat, and Victor spends nearly as much time with the Martins. At some point, separate closets had simply become impractical.

Soon enough they’re pulling on warmer clothes. Sweaters, thicker pants, extra layers. Then come the winter essentials. Beanies pulled low over their hair, gloves covering their hands, sunglasses perched on their noses to shield against the bright reflection of the snow, coats draped over their shoulders, and scarves wrapped high around their necks.

By the time they’re done, only small portions of their faces remain visible.

As soon as they’re ready, Matthew reaches for Victor’s hand. Their fingers lace together automatically, and even through their gloves, Victor can still feel the warmth radiating from Matthew’s hand. It makes him smile.

A few minutes later they’re stepping outside the flat. Victor locks the door behind them before they make their way toward the elevator and down to the lobby.

Then they’re outside. Immediately, the cold bites at every exposed piece of skin. Their breaths rise in pale clouds with every exhale. Snow blankets the streets and rooftops. The entire neighborhood looks softer somehow. Quieter. Almost peaceful.

Most people seem to have wisely decided to remain indoors. Which works perfectly for them, because without crowds around, they don’t have to let go of each other’s hands. So they don’t.

Instead, they walk side by side through the streets of Elmont while their scarves hide most of their faces and their shoulders occasionally bump together.

As they walk, they talk about absolutely everything and absolutely nothing. A snow-covered mailbox that somehow reminds Matthew of home. A car covered in enough snow to resemble an iceberg. The differences between American, Canadian winters and Swedish winters. Childhood memories. Random observations. Half-finished thoughts.

The conversation drifts naturally from one topic to another until neither of them can remember where it started.

Eventually, after nearly an hour of wandering around Victor’s neighborhood, they stop at a small café near UBS Arena.

The second they step inside, warmth envelops them. The lighting is soft and dim and the smell of coffee and pastries hangs in the air.

Matthew volunteers to order their hot chocolates while Victor drifts toward one of the large front windows. And that’s when he sees it. Across the street, a florist.

Victor’s eyes immediately lock onto a display of orange tulips. His heart squeezes. And for a moment, he simply stands there, watching.

The flowers remind him so much of home that it almost hurts. Sweden. Spring mornings, and early summer days—fields bursting with color, family, everything familiar. Everything far away.

A small smile finds its way onto his face.

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Matthew appears beside him and hands him a paper cup overflowing with hot chocolate and mini marshmallows.

“Thanks.”

Matthew hums, then his gaze follows Victor’s. “Oh.” His eyebrows rise. “Is it normal to have tulips in winter?”

Victor lets out a soft laugh. “It can happen.”

“But?”

“But not usually these kinds.” He gestures toward them. “They’re mostly associated with spring. Back home, you see them everywhere once the weather starts warming up.”

Matthew continues staring at the display. “Really?”

Victor nods. “Especially in Sweden. The Netherlands, France, and Belgium too.”

Matthew hums thoughtfully, then he turns toward Victor and keeps looking at him for several seconds.

Victor blinks. “What?”

Matthew doesn’t answer. Instead, he suddenly hands Victor his own hot chocolate.

Victor stares. “…Why do I have both drinks?”

“You’ll see.”

Then Matthew turns around and walks straight out of the café while Victor watches him go. Watches him cross the street. Watches him enter the florist. And becomes increasingly confused with every passing second.

Should he follow him?

Stay inside?

Wait?

Eventually, he settles for waiting outside the café.

A few minutes later, the florist’s door opens again and Matthew emerges carrying a huge bouquet of red, orange and yellow tulips. The colors blend together so beautifully they almost resemble a sunrise. Or maybe a sunset. Victor isn’t entirely sure. All he knows is that the sight makes something ache inside his chest.

Matthew looks down at the bouquet and smiles. The expression is soft and proud. Almost shy. And Victor suddenly finds himself struggling to breathe.

Then Matthew walks over and extends the flowers toward him. “For you.” He says in earnest.

Victor stares at the bouquet, then at Matthew. Then back at the bouquet again.

“What?”

Matthew laughs. “They’re for you.”

“Why?”

The question escapes before Victor can stop it.

Matthew’s smile somehow grows even brighter. “Because.” Victor waits. “I saw your face when you looked at them.”

Victor immediately feels his throat tighten.

Matthew shrugs. “Your eyes lit up.” His voice softens. “And you said they grew in Sweden.”

Victor swallows hard. “So?”

“So…” Matthew smiles. “This is your first full season away from home.”

Victor’s eyes instantly burn.

“So maybe they’ll help.”

The simplicity of the gesture nearly undoes him. Earlier that morning, he’d been the one worrying about Matthew—holding him and comforting him. Making sure he was okay on one of the hardest days of the year.

And now Matthew is standing in front of him, holding a bouquet of flowers because he’d noticed a fleeting look on Victor’s face.

Because he’d remembered. Because he cared.

Victor lets out a wet laugh. “You are unbelievable.”

Matthew grins. “That’s not an answer.”

Victor shakes his head. Then he carefully takes the bouquet. The flowers are beautiful. But somehow they still aren’t as beautiful as the boy standing in front of him.

And as he looks at Matthew standing there in the middle of a snowy Long Island sidewalk, cheeks pink from the cold and smile shining brighter than the winter sun, Victor realizes with startling clarity that this—this—is what the art of loving means.

Not grand gestures. Not perfection. Just noticing. Remembering. Showing up. Again and again and again. Even on the hard days.

Victor clutches the bouquet a little closer to his chest, careful not to crush any of the petals as he fights back the tears threatening to gather behind his sunglasses. The flowers smell faintly sweet, carrying something warm and familiar with them despite the winter air surrounding them.

For a moment, he simply looks at Matthew. Really looks at him. At the way his scarf is pulled up to his nose, at the pink tint spreading across his cheeks from the cold, and at the small smile still lingering on his lips. It makes Victor’s chest ache in the best possible way.

“Can we walk through the park before going home?” he asks quietly.

Matthew’s smile immediately softens. “Of course.”

And just like that, they start walking again. Side by side. Shoulder brushing shoulder every now and then. Their fingers remain laced together, hidden between layers of gloves and coat sleeves as they make their way down the sidewalk. The bouquet rests securely in Victor’s free arm while Matthew occasionally steals glances toward him, as if making sure he still likes the flowers. Every single time Victor catches him doing it, he feels another wave of affection wash over him.

Eventually, the entrance to the park comes into view and unlike the streets surrounding Victor’s building, the park is much more lively.

Children are running through the snow. Parents are following after them. A few people are walking their dogs. Others are simply enjoying the rare winter sunshine.

Thankfully, nobody seems to recognize them. At least not at first. Because barely two minutes after stepping into the park, two familiar shrieks suddenly split through the cold air.

“VIC!”

“MATTY!”

Both boys barely have time to react before two tiny figures come sprinting toward them at alarming speed.

Victor immediately recognizes the colorful coats. It’s Winnie and Alice.

“Oh no—”

The words barely leave his mouth before Alice crashes directly into his legs. And at the exact same moment, Winnie collides with Matthew.

Victor lets out a startled laugh, instinctively tightening his grip on the bouquet before he can accidentally drop it.

“Aly!”

The little girl immediately wraps her arms around his legs. “Hi!”

Victor giggles despite himself. Thankfully, he’d already finished his hot chocolate. Otherwise, it would’ve ended up all over Alice.

Beside him, Matthew is already crouching down to Winnie’s height, his eyes widening dramatically.

“What are you doing here?”

Winnie gasps. “We’re walking!”

“Walking?”

“Yep!” She answers, bright and childlike.

Matthew nods seriously. “Very suspicious.”

Winnie immediately starts giggling. “We came because Bear and Henny wanted to play in the snow.”

Victor smiles at that. Then he glances down at Alice. “Where are mom and dad Aly?”

Alice immediately points behind her. “There!”

Both Victor and Matthew look up, and almost immediately, they spot a very familiar figure jogging toward them. Kashawn.

The defenseman is moving surprisingly fast considering he’s bundled up in winter clothes, though Victor knows enough about his best friend to recognize the theatrics immediately.

A few feet behind him trail Sydney and Marty, who are pushing Theo and Henning in their stroller.

The second Kashawn reaches them, he folds over dramatically. Hands on his knees, panting. Or rather, pretending to pant. Victor narrows his eyes immediately. He’s absolutely faking it.

“You two scared me half to death,” Kashawn says between exaggerated breaths.

Winnie immediately gasps. “I’m sorry!”

Kashawn points at her. “You should be.” Then he points at Alice. “You too, princess Aly.”

Alice hides behind Victor’s leg. “It’s because we saw Schaef and Veky.”

The moment Kashawn actually processes those words, his eyes flick between them. A beat passes. Then another. And suddenly he barks out a laugh.

“Oh my God.”

Victor immediately starts laughing too as Kashawn drags a hand down his face.

“I am forever grateful those two turned out to be you.”

“Why?” Matthew asks, slightly confused.

“Because for a second I thought they were running toward complete strangers.”

Victor nearly chokes.

Kashawn continues. “And honestly? That would’ve tracked.”

Immediately both boys burst into laughter.

“Have they done that before?” Victor asks.

Kashawn’s expression turns completely serious. “Twice already.”

That only makes them laugh harder. Matthew actually doubles over and Victor nearly drops the bouquet.

“No way.” Matthew says between a couple of whizz, while trying to calm himself down.

“Twice.” Kashawn confirms as he shakes his head in utter desperation.

“You’re lying.”

“I wish.”

Meanwhile, Winnie seems completely unbothered by the accusations being thrown around and happily allows Matthew to scoop her into his arms.

Alice immediately decides she wants equal treatment, so Kashawn sighs dramatically before lifting her too.

“Happy?” He asks the younger Martin girl.

“Very.” Alice says as she wraps her little arms around Kashawn’s shoulders, and smiles proudly.

“Good.”

By then Sydney and Marty have finally reached them. And as soon as they do, Sydney immediately pauses—her eyes travel over both boys. Then she blinks.

“Oh.”

Marty squints. “No wonder we couldn’t recognize you.”

Matthew laughs. “We’re literally standing right here.”

“Yeah, but you’re covered from head to toe.” Marty points at them. “I thought you were strangers.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Victor snorts, with a playful expression on his face.

“It shouldn’t be.”

Victor shakes his head fondly. Then he finally lowers his scarf enough for the cold air to hit his cheeks, and as he does so, the movement causes the bouquet to shift slightly in his arms.

Immediately three separate pairs of eyes lock onto it. Kashawn, Sydney and Marty. And Victor immediately knows what’s coming.

Sure enough, Marty lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Sydney smiles. “Oh, those are beautiful.”

Kashawn simply gawks. “Who gave you that and where did you even find flowers that fresh in February?”

Victor opens his mouth. But before he can answer, Sydney smacks Kashawn upside the head.

The defenseman yelps. “Oh my god Syd!” He exclaims himself as he rubs the back of his head. “What was that for?” He asks indignantly.

“It’s obviously Matthew who bought them.” Sydney says matter-of-factly while rolling her eyes.

“Oh.”

Sydney rolls her eyes again. “There are greenhouses in New York, genius.”

“Oh.”

Another pause. Then Kashawn points at the bouquet. “Still impressive.”

Victor laughs quietly. Sydney’s attention then returns to the flowers. “They’re gorgeous.”

“They really are,” Marty agrees. Then he looks directly at Matthew. “Excellent taste player.” He says sarcastically, even though there’s no bite to it.

Matthew immediately shakes his head. “I don’t have taste.”

“That’s objectively false.” Kashawn and Marty immediately call him out on that, at the same time.

“No, really.”

Marty raises an eyebrow. So Matthew shrugs.

“I only bought those tulips because Victor kept staring at them.”

Victor’s heart immediately squeezes. But Matthew continues.

“They reminded him of home.”

Sydney’s smile softens. “And the colors?” She asks, fondness dripping from her voice.

“The florist helped.” Matthew glances at the bouquet. “I originally picked orange and yellow.”

Victor looks down at the flowers. A sunset. A sunrise. Warmth. Home. Matthew.

“The florist suggested adding red ones too.”

Marty nods. “Good florist.”

Matthew laughs. “They said red represented love and passion.”

Victor feels heat immediately crawl up his neck despite the freezing temperature. And Kashawn notices. Of course he does. The traitor.

A slow shit eating grin spreads across his face. Then he looks at Matthew. “You made the right choice.” Matthew tilts his head. Kashawn gestures toward Victor. “It means a lot to him.”

Victor immediately looks away. Because if he doesn’t, he might actually cry again. And absolutely nobody needs to witness that. Especially not Kashawn. Who would never let him live it down.

The conversation drifts naturally after that. The twins wake up. Winnie starts talking about a snowman she wants to build and Alice insists it needs glitter. Theo sneezes, while Henning tries to grab Marty’s scarf.

Life continues moving around them. Simple and comfortable. Warm despite the cold.

Eventually, Sydney glances down at her phone. A second later she sighs. “Okay.” Everyone looks at her. “It’s time.”

Marty groans dramatically. “No.”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“Marty.”

He immediately falls silent. Victor bites back a laugh, because no matter how tall and big Marty is compared to Syd—she’ll always have the last word.

Sydney pockets her phone. “We should start heading home.” Then she glances between Victor and Matthew. “You guys want to come over for lunch?”

Both boys immediately look at each other. And the answer is obvious. It always is.

“Yeah.” Matthew agrees with a smile.

And Victor follows suit. “Definitely.”

Sydney smiles. “Good.”

And just like that, the group starts moving again. The girls race ahead through the snow and Kashawn follows after them before they can tackle another unsuspecting stranger.

Marty pushes the stroller while Sydney walks beside him. And Victor finds himself falling naturally into step beside Matthew. Their hands find each other once more. Like they always do. The bouquet remains tucked securely against Victor’s chest.

And as they leave the park behind and begin making their way toward the Martins’ house, Victor glances down at the flowers one more time. Then over at Matthew.

His boyfriend catches him looking. And smiles. So Victor smiles right back. Because even though the day had started with grief, tears, and memories that would never stop hurting, somehow it had slowly transformed into something else.

Something gentler. Something warmer. A reminder that love wasn’t just about standing beside someone during their happiest moments.

It was about carrying them through the hard ones too.

And if today had taught Victor anything, it was that Matthew Schaefer had become exceptionally good at both.