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aubrey drake graham was sad. this was nothing new, but on this particular night it felt extra tragic and poetic.
the automated reminders from siri kept telling him that today was the first day of hannukah, but his heart just wasn't in it. ordinarily he would be spending this time with his parents, but ever since he had written those lyrics about smoking weed with his dad, they had been a lot less keen to invite him to graham family events. 'besides, aubrey, you need to stop wearing those turtlenecks,' his mom had told him in a curt voicemail. 'you look like weird uncle steven.'
guess i should have thought to keep my family close, he thought to himself, the appropriate instrumental chiming in on the surround sound speakers in his living room.
'that was a really good song, drake,' he whispered.
'thanks, drake.'
so here he was, curled up in front of the HD fireplace channel and puffing half-heartedly on a stale joint. what was the point of blazing it if there was no blaze in the fire of his heart?
he turned his iphone rose gold 6s over and over in his palm, hoping desperately that someone would call him. but ever since rihanna robyn fenty had left him for nicki minaj, his hotline would never bling again.
'i know when that hotline bling, that can only mean one thing,' he sang to the tune of the opening chords of hark the herald angels that were now resonating through the air.
hold on a minute - where was that christmas music coming from? a gorgeous a capella harmony was filling his ears, punctuated by the incessant (though surprisingly rhythmical) ringing of his front doorbell. he groaned. carol singers. they probably only wanted to sneak a christmas eve selfie with him to edit to death on instagram.
he trudged towards the front door and swung it open, fully preparing to slam it back in their faces. but his arm stiffened and froze to the handle when he saw the man outside.
he was dressed from head to toe in a glittery robe that made him look like an aggressive christmas ornament, sequins in every colour of the rainbow cascading down to his feet. but the most startling thing about him was the feathered white angel wings that spread from his shoulder blades, spanning what must have been six or seven feet. the harmonising voices of an entire church choir were reverberating from his open mouth, complete with - was that a philharmonic orchestral accompaniment?
oh, and the guy was jacked. more than jacked. in fact, on closer examination drake realised that the most startling thing about this weirdo was that he was fucking gorgeous.
'Greetings And Merry Christmas My Good Friend,' he said in a fairly ordinary voice, the music cutting out and instantly.
the blunt 'i'm jewish' he had prepared died on his lips, his iphone rose gold 6s slipping from his fingers and shattering artistically on the stone floor as he took in the man's mesmerising eyes (and fucking bulging biceps).
'hi,' he mumbled. 'um... how do you do that thing with your voice?'
the man grinned widely. 'Oh I Am Glad You Asked! I Am Currently Astral Projecting Myself Onto Seventeen Different Planes Allowing Me To Harmonise With My Own Self Without The Cumbersome Inconveniences Of That Modern Iphone Application Where Your Face Appears In Little Squares Seeing As That Is Not Available On My Beloved Fisher-Price Cassette Phone With Tape Recorder.'
'woah,' said drake. 'nice.'
'Thank You.'
'what brings you to the six?' he asked conversationally, grimacing at the embarrassing jauntiness of his voice. too late, he noticed the tiny hole in his soft light grey sweatpants (which matched his soft light grey turtleneck which matched his soft light grey beanie which matched his soft light grey socks which matched his light grey nikes). shit, he must think i'm such a slob.
'Well To Tell You The Truth I Am Currently Engulfed In An Artistic And Emotional Void Of Despair Following The Release Of My Critically Acclaimed Studio Album Carrie And Lowell And So I Thought I Might Revive My Earlier Geographically Inspired Project With A More Outward-Looking And International Focus To Reflect The Spread Of Globalisation Across Our Humble Mother Earth.'
'oh, cool!'
'Truth Be Told I Am Not Sure If Ten Provinces And Three Territories Has The Same Ring To It As Fifty States But I Have Already Composed A Song About The Cultural Significance Of That Commercial Where They Talk About Good Things Growing In Ontario So We Shall See.'
'well, i think it sounds great!' okay, he thought it sounded genius. play it cool, aubrey,he reminded himself.
'Thank You What Is Your Name By The Way.'
'dr-' he started, before stopping in his tracks. something about this man made him want to be honest, compelled him to expose his true self behind the constraints of his record label.
'i'm aubrey,' he said finally. 'aubrey drake graham. and you are?'
'Sufjan Billy Beaver Bucky Bird Stevens And It Is Very Nice To Meet You.'
they stood there for a moment in silence, separated only by the threshold between them. all of a sudden, he knew exactly what he had to do.
'sufjan,' he said, before he could chicken out. 'i know we've only just met, and this is a bit forward of me, but...'
'Yes?'
'do you want to sit contemplatively on the cn tower edgewalk with me?'
sufjan's face lit up. 'Can We Hold Hands Like Awkward Middle Schoolers On A First Date And Throw Chocolate Coins Down Onto The Heads Of The Good People Of Toronto Like Benevolent Christmas Gods And Talk About The True Meaning Of The Holiday Season As We Strum Ukuleles To The Beat Of The Flickering City Lights?'
'yes! i mean - yeah, sure thing.'
in one swift motion, sufjan leaned in and kissed him, and drake felt his heart blaze brighter than the world's best kush.
'Then I Would Like That Very Much Aubrey.'