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Bianca.
To bond with someone on a romantic level was something Lars never actively sought out.
There were days when he wondered what it meant when books talked of a spark so warm that their bodies gravitated towards each other for another moment shared—for more of their warmth to meld into each other's. How songs talked about a love as strong as it was painful, that they were willing to risk it all to stay together despite all the odds. How couples at church looked at one another with their gazes lingering on one another longer than their mouths spoke words and even longer than their hands touched.
And as more cake slices get stored in the fridge and even more candles lose their flames, Lars' curiosity dwindles all the same. But this time it was different.
Bianca was different.
Bianca's presence felt like a solid grip to remind you you're alive. Her smile felt like a cushion saving you from falling due to a hard day's work. And her love felt just as exhilarating as all those works of fact and fiction speak of. And it wasn't just Lars who saw Bianca's glow—the whole town did.
She came in a wooden box one day and left in one too. But even in her absence, no one, not even the snarkiest person in town, would tell you that she didn't have an effect on the townsfolk—especially not as much as she did on Lars.
The days that came after Bianca's departure were just as solemn as one would think, but definitely not as dull. Lars kept the people's memory of her through stories he would tell them every now and then. The stories don't hold the same emotion and experience that he felt at the time, but each new story he shares, each moment he repeats since he knows the people miss her as much as he does, his heart grows warmer—even just a tad bit.
Gus & Karin.
Lars remembers the dinner when Gus and Karin announced that a new family member would be sharing their household soon. He remembers it vividly.
He remembers joining them at the dinner table—a rare occasion but not unheard of—and he remembers the smile on Karin's face, with Gus' hand over hers on the tablecloth. He remembers a smile on his face as his heart sinks with worry. He remembers his head nodding and his hands setting the utensils carefully on the table. He remembers going back in the garage to sit on his bed, and he remembers forgetting how long he'd been awake until the morning light shined through his window.
They love Lars—he knows this because Karin keeps saying it and Gus nods to agree each time.
They love Lars, and he knows they do. He doesn't understand it very well, and sometimes he struggles to think about the whys and why-nots, but he knows. And it wasn't until Karin cried and shouted it at him one evening while Bianca went off for a banquet.
He had a lot of thinking to do that night.
And every other night after.
Since then, his worldview has shifted.
He notices the way Cindy smiles at him when he responds after she asks him how the family is doing whenever he enters the office—she used to only ask about Bianca. He notices the way people smile and wave at him when he buys groceries.
He notices the way Gus and Karin have invited him over for a meal more often, but this time he's accepted it more often than not. He remembers Karin telling him they bathed Bianca, and that she's always welcome for dinner.
He remembers the way they treated Bianca—the way they treated him. And it does something to him.
He sees the town for the first time. And he has Gus and Karin to thank for that.
Driver.
Lars didn't know what came over him when he offered his garage to the man he'd slowly gotten to know over just a few days. Perhaps it was their shared understanding over quiet conversations. Or maybe it was the way Driver lingered around him whenever they passed by one another in town. He's not quite sure.
A week into their encounter, Lars felt like he'd known Driver for longer than he actually had—even if he felt like there was more he'd yet to learn about the man who crashed outside their household at their first meeting.
Driver has visited his garage more times than anyone has in recent years. So when Karin offered for him to stay over in the pink room after they learned he's been sleeping in his car, Lars' heart sank with the realization that his garage would feel too empty and quiet if he didn't offer his place instead. Thankfully, Driver agreed.
Moving into the garage meant that he needed to buy a place for Driver to sleep in that wasn't a car seat. And if Driver didn't feel comfortable enough for a more permanent fixture in Lars' room, he didn't need to mention that when he agreed to Lars' offer of a sleeping bag instead of a bed. Lars was just happy to provide him a place to stay, and that made the place feel more lived in.
Days passed, and coffees were shared, when Lars came to a realization about his friend who still insists on calling himself "Driver"—he had no issues with it.
Driver stayed up later and woke up earlier than Lars ever had to in his entire life.
Initially, Lars believed that he was just an early riser who had to do things late into the evening—so was he when he needed to start driving to work at 6 in the morning. And Lars knows that most people sleep later than he does, because sleeping at 9 pm is just how he's grown used to growing up. So when Lars wonders what Driver gets up to at night, he says his "Good night!" and tucks himself into bed, silently watching Driver bid him the same and walk towards the other side of the garage.
When he catches himself almost drifting to sleep, he hears a soft whisper from outside the garage. Confused, he subtly—as subtly as he can get—glances around the room. Driver left.
Before his heart sinks, he hears a conversation happening.
"Out again?"
The sound of shuffling.
"You know, I've only caught you out here three times so far, but something tells me you do this every night."
A single chuckle. "Maybe."
Silence follows for a few more seconds before a pat could be heard.
"Thanks." Silence. "For taking care of him."
"It's the least I could do."
"Yeah. Yeah…" Shuffling. "Well. I'll see you around? Karin says you should keep warm while staying out here. Don't stay up too long."
The sound of the heater running lasted for a few more seconds before Lars let out the breath he didn't know he held onto.
Driver gently opened the door and peeked in.
"You're awake?"
Driver was intentionally staying up.
"Uh… No I'm not."
Driver was watching out for him.
"Head back to sleep, Lars. It's still too early."
A faint smile could be seen as Driver gets backlit by moonlight.
Lars covers his burning face with the blanket and turns over.
"Okay. Good night again!" He rushes to get out, and he hears the door close as carefully as it opened.
Lars doesn't get to sleep much that night. But not for a bad reason.
Ken.
When Ken arrived, he wasn't alone. He came with another man who was just as tall and just as big a figure as he was, but certainly different.
While Lars thought that Driver's entrance into his life was abrupt and startling, he could say just about the same for meeting Ken, but with a person just as explosive and bright as a firework.
Ken had this spark about him that everyone could see—sort of hard not to, when his first greeting to you would always be a very loud and smiley "Hello there!" His smiles were always wide, his laugh always shook his entire body, and his teary-eyed puppy look was always directed to those he worried over, man or not. One would think he openly wore his heart on his sleeve, but late weekend nights with him say otherwise.
Don't get him wrong. The blonde and whimsical man who prefers his morning drink with 100% milk and 10% cool factor is just as jolly as you think he is—confirmed by his companion—but he is much more of a deep-thinking and feeling person than people make him out to be on the surface.
He's kind and caring, and looks at the world with the same wonder in his eyes that you'd find in children trying something new. He's heard Lars' stories about the church enough times that he's offered to come with him to see what it is, and he's since started going and helping the elderly carry their things with him. He's noticed that Driver stretches his back now and then, and bought him back support for the car—no one asks where he got the money; maybe he got a job in town. Lars has also seen him whispering and nudging the other man he came with, and receives a smile each time, never failing to put a smile on his previously pained-looking face.
Lars has seen Ken get hurt before. He's seen Ken cry over his coat getting ripped because he accidentally pulled it too hard when the door shut on it. He's seen Ken tear up over a spilt drink. He's even seen Ken watch a child trip, run towards them, help pick her up, and when he saw her crying, he started doing the same until they both laughed. All of those are genuine, Lars learned.
And he's aware of Ken's origin. He believes, just as much as the other guy, that Ken truly did come from a different lifestyle from theirs. Lars thinks all of them do, so he doesn't judge. He doesn't judge when he touches Ken and doesn't feel any heat or pulse, and not even when he sleeps beside him and notices that his chest doesn't rise and fall as other people's do. And yet, Lars feels all of Ken as much and even more than he did with Bianca.
Ken's giggles, his laughs, his hugs—which he limits to doing only when he smiles towards Lars and he gives a nod, often followed by a tackle—his dances and silly songs, and his words—which he had so many of—all of them were so genuine and so very real that it felt like a warm blanket matched with the morning sun's greeting after a cold winter night. And it's in those dark and cold winter nights where Ken's quiet, deep, and caring self shines through.
Even now, as the two sit side by side on the bed, with Lars reading all four of them a passage from a book he recently borrowed, Lars could feel Ken's presence from his peripheral vision.
"Once pegged as special, a citizen, even if accepting sterilization-"
Lars feels a nudge on his foot. He looks up at the source.
He comes face to face with a soft smile on Ken's face as the sides of his eyes wrinkle.
Lars smiles back and moves a little bit closer, nodding as he continues.
He feels an arm wrap around his shoulders, careful not to move him too much.
He continues.
"Dropped out of history. He ceased, in effect, to be part of mankind-"
He continues with a newfound warmth and understanding, settling within his chest as he reads to a room of four.
K.
When Lars heard a knock on their garage door one Saturday afternoon, he didn't expect to be met with two tall and drastically different men.
Maybe drastically isn't the right word, but initial thoughts exist for a reason.
No. The man who accompanied Ken wasn't all that different from him or any of them.
K—as he preferred to be called—was a tall and strong man, not unlike Ken. K knew his way around machines, not unlike Driver. And he knew his way around interacting with people, not unlike Bianca.
K knew how to cook, and even though his menu wasn't as extensive as Karin's, he was capable of learning more. K knew how to drive. K knows how to code, read, and play basic board games. K knew how to live.
K knew a lot of things, but so did everyone else.
Unlike the eccentric warmth of Bianca's presence, or the comforting serenity of Driver's demeanor, or even the bright and lively sparks of Ken's personality, K's addition to Lars' life was less extreme.
When Driver wanted to go to town to check for spare parts, K accompanied him. When Ken was asking about what clothes to buy, K sifted through a magazine catalogue for options with him. When Lars offhandedly commented on his hair growing too long, K offered to cut it for him.
K's presence isn't as loud as the others'. The way he moves feels so calculated to work around others, almost as if he's been made to be the perfect companion, but it's the little things about him that Lars catches on far later than he did the others.
It's the way K knows that Lars loves to tell stories and to listen to stories being told, so he tells him about his life. It's the way he noticed Lars curling into himself when he's overwhelmed or overstimulated, so he keeps quiet and gives Lars some space while sitting close by until he's ready to talk again. It's the way that K notices two of the guys often going nonverbal and offers for the three of them to let him teach them sign language or basic signs to help them work through it without feeling alone. It's the way K takes good care of all of their belongings because he knows how much each blanket, each steering wheel cover, and each faux coat feather matters to all of them.
While the others' entrance into Lars' bubble felt like notable additions in his life, K's addition felt like gaps being filled.
Lars watches as K unscrews a bolt—"a lug nut", he could hear Driver comment—of a tire as Ken makes another joke that causes Driver's shoulders to shake—possibly trying not to laugh too hard.
Lars watches as K's gaze briefly passes through each one of them—brief, but oh so heavy with emotion.
"You laughed!" Ken points at Driver, almost falling off the edge of his new pick-up truck's truck bed.
"I didn't." Driver responded, hands going inside his jacket's pocket—he's not often seen without it.
"You totally did! I made you laugh!" Ken does a full body laugh and leans over the edge to look at K. "You saw that, right?"
K brings up a hand to rest on Ken's chest.
"Careful." He smiles and gently pushes him back on the pick-up. "And who knows, Ken. I was busy working. I could use some help?"
K wiggles the wrench. Ken slumps on the edge once more—with dramatic flair—and sighs.
"What was the joke anyway?" K laughs, winks at Driver, briefly looks back at where he knows Lars was standing—how he knew that, Lars would never know—and goes back to work.
Lars watches as K enjoys the life they've built.
And when Lars comes up to hand them their freshly made warm drinks, Lars makes a mental note to join Ken's side of the defense when he can.
He knows K enjoys their banter.
Lars.
The day it happens isn't as eventful as the stories make it out to be.
Lars wakes up at 5 am, just on schedule, and quietly looks around him.
Somewhere in the middle of their sleep, Ken's hogged all of their blankets and made a makeshift nest around him, all while muttering something about horses and ducks. Driver, now left in the cold, is clutching his shirt for dear life, and Lars isn't about to let him freeze in this weather. K's absence from the bedroom could mean a lot of things at this hour, so he doesn't pay much mind to it.
Lars carefully gets out of bed, heads to the closet, and grabs a clean and thick blanket to place over Driver's shivering body. He makes sure that Driver looks snug with it before he leans over for a gentle kiss on Driver's forehead, moving over to Ken and doing the same.
He checks the clock to notice that he has just enough time to prepare some drinks for the others—in order of who he knows would wake up first—and sets them with little notes.
He writes "Good morning :) Don't forget to blow on it to cool it down! <3" in yellow.
And "Good afternoon :) Make sure to re-heat this and ask K for help if you're struggling! <3" in pink.
Lars looks around the room, sipping on his own coffee, before he writes the last note.
He writes "Good morning :) Here's a thanks for taking watch tonight <3 Please stop staying outside" in green.
Lars takes a step back, coffee in hand, and smiles as he sits at the table.
He eyes redirect his attention over towards the bed and stare.
If you had told him 4 years ago that he would, someday, have 3 other people in his life who would mean the world to him, he wouldn't believe you. If you had told him that he would meet all of them, none more human than he thinks he is, despite their origins, he wouldn't believe you.
And as Lars takes in the sight of his bed pushed towards another bigger bed, with a makeshift attachment on the beds' legs to keep them together, with two guys now close to each other, sharing a number of blankets too much for them both, with another presence Lars knows is outside watching out for them—
If you had told him years ago—even before Bianca, even before he moved into the garage, even before he could remember his youngest years—that he would be loved by so many people around him, in so many different ways and intensities? He wouldn't believe you.
And as that thought settles within his mind, Lars catches a teardrop on his sweater.
All of those years of wanting to fit in—of wanting to be understood and to understand others—Lars found it with them. And some part of him knows he won't stop finding out more things about his loved ones, with the people around him.
Lars catches himself sniffling once before he quietly moves to set the coffee on the table and heads outside the garage in case he wakes up the other two.
"Are you feeling alright, Lars?" K's gentle voice echoes through the silent, cold morning.
Lars raises his head to see K sporting his usual green coat, one hand in a pocket, and the other reaching out, waiting for a sign that he's allowed to move closer. Lars nods and wipes off a few of his tears and catches some snot on the sweater, earning a sad sniffle before he feels arms around him, pulling him close and letting his head rest on a solid chest.
"It's okay." K gently runs his fingers through Lars' hair. "We can get that dry cleaned tomorrow."
The gentle act of being seen and heard despite the lack of words makes Lars wail and clutch onto K's jacket.
"I knew you liked your sweaters, but not this much." K gently teases and lets out a soft chuckle.
"I love you."
"You…"
Lars feels K's breath hitch—something he said his kind doesn't do, but evidence proves otherwise—and his arms wrap tighter around him; careful not to hurt.
"Took you a while."
Lars hears the smile in K's voice as he sets a gentle kiss on his head.
"I love you, too."
Lars lets go of K's jacket and moves his arms to wrap around K's torso. His wailing and sobbing grew louder and more raw with emotion, only to be disrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.
"What are you guys doing up so early…" Ken's voice could be heard, raspy and groggy from being woken up 7 hours earlier than usual, as he dragged his fluffy slipper-covered feet outside the garage.
"K?" Driver comes out soon after, careful to close the door quietly.
Both of them have dragged the blankets with them and simultaneously moved to place some over K and Lars' shoulders.
Lars watches them with a teary-eyed expression before shifting to a soft, uncontrollable giggle.
He hears, more than sees, Ken's confusion and Driver's concern.
Lars slowly lets go of K—who moves his arms to give way—as he peppers the other two with just the right amount of gentle kisses on their face, effectively waking them up from their sleepy state.
"Morning kisses already? Am I in Heaven?" Ken remarks with Lars' hands still on his cheeks.
Lars lets out a laugh before he steps back to slowly grab one of each of their hands—a difficult task, but a task he's happy to do—into his; wrapping all of the hands using both of his, mimicking how one would pray.
"I love you." Lars whispers—almost too scared for the world to take this blessing from him—with a voice so quiet and yet so confidently sure in what is said. "I love all of you."
He smiles and opens his hands to gently kiss each of those he held.
"Thank you."
Before Lars could look up to smile at them again, he felt strong arms tackle him into a hug. On another day, this would have startled him. If it were another person, it would have caused him pain. But his body's grown used to these arms, and instead sinks into the comfort of a squeeze.
A hand comes to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, and another ruffles his hair.
Lars finally gets a chance to look up at all of them smiling back at him and decides—for the first time in his life—that he wouldn't have preferred to have loved anyone in any other way than this.