47. Forty-Six

I was invited to Christmas at the Laskin house in Liar’s Corner, but I politely declined. After the last twenty-four hours, I was exhausted and not in the right frame of mind to meet people, let alone the family of my…Whatever Shepherd and all his alters were to me.

Part of me wanted to go to Cherry’s and crash, but I didn’t think Keres would let me out of his sight. Not after the tense moment we’d just had. He was acting as possessive and protective as ever.

There were times when I found those things endearing about him. That day, however, they were smothering. As soon as we made it back to Shepherd’s apartment, I went straight to my room, closed the door, and locked it. I put my back to the door and slid down it, clutching my knees to my chest.

Everything Keres had told me, the dark secrets he'd revealed, kept playing over and over in my mind. I knew I should be disgusted, horrified. I should want to run screaming from this place and never look back.

But I didn't. Even now, with the full knowledge of what Keres was, what he'd done, I still wanted him. Wanted Shepherd. Wanted them both. Did that make me as much of a monster as Keres? Or just a fool blinded by devotion?

I didn't know anymore. All I knew was that walking away from them would be like tearing out a vital organ. He'd become so deeply embedded under my skin, in my heart, my soul. The jagged pieces of me recognized the matching broken shards of him. Leaving him would be like losing half of myself.

Silent tears tracked down my face as I wrestled with the choice I'd made. To fully accept Keres, darkness and all. To stand by his side come hell or high water. It was a vow that I knew would change me, one that I could never come back from. By loving a monster, I was choosing to become one myself.

I don't know how long I sat there, my mind chasing itself in circles, before a soft knock sounded at the door. I hastily wiped at my face and cleared my throat.

“Yeah?” I called, my voice tight.

“Are you hungry?”

Slowly, I got up and opened the door. Keres waited on the other side. I knew it was him because he’d put on his gloves.

“There’s a Chinese place uptown that’s still open,” he continued. “Bryce said they have good spicy noodles.”

I stared at Keres for a long moment, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. The mention of food made my stomach rumble.

“Yeah, okay,” I said at last, my voice still raw from crying. “Spicy noodles sound good.”

Keres's eyes softened as he took in my red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and gently brushed away the lingering wetness with his gloved thumb. The leather was cool and smooth against my flushed skin.

He said nothing, but stood there, looking down at me for a moment with a strange sadness in his expression, one that didn’t belong on Keres’s face.

I let out a shuddering breath as Keres's gloved fingers lingered on my cheek.

After a moment, he let his hand fall away and stepped back. “I'll order the food. You should try to get some rest.”

I nodded numbly, not trusting my voice. Keres studied me for a beat longer before turning and heading down the hall. I watched him go, my heart a leaden weight in my chest.

Closing the door, I leaned my forehead against the cool wood and tried to gather myself. My mind felt like a war zone, a thousand conflicting thoughts and emotions battling for dominance. Fear, revulsion, confusion, longing. They crashed through me in relentless waves until I thought I might drown.

Sucking in a harsh breath, I pushed off the door and staggered toward the bed. I collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to take off my shoes. Every bone in my body felt weary, every muscle ached with exhaustion. I thought sleep would be elusive given the horrific events of the day, but it claimed me quickly.

I woke sometime later to the chorus of “O Holy Night”. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I ran a hand through my sleep-mussed hair. My whole body felt heavy, wrung out, like I'd run an emotional gauntlet. In a way, I supposed I had. Loving Keres, really loving him, meant accepting the darkest parts of his fractured psyche. It meant staring into the abyss of his sins and not flinching away.

I still wasn't sure I was strong enough for that. But I knew with bone-deep certainty that I had to try. For him, for us, I would walk through the flames of Hell itself.

Steeling myself, I got up and made my way out of the guest room. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the faint strains of Christmas carols drifting from somewhere. I followed the music to the living room and stopped short at the sight that greeted me.

The room had been transformed by the addition of twinkling lights up on the walls, on the tree… everywhere they’d fit. The air smelled like garlic and chili peppers thanks to the wide spread of Chinese food being laid out on the table.

But it was the figure standing by the tree that made my breath catch. For a moment, I thought it was Keres. But as I drew closer, I realized it was Bryce. He wore a soft-looking red sweater and dark jeans, his feet bare against the hardwood floor. His hair was tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it, and his expression held a vulnerability I'd never seen on Keres's face.

He turned as I approached, his eyes widening slightly. “Eli! Oh, sorry. Did the music wake you?”

I shrugged, suddenly feeling awkward. It was strange, interacting with Bryce when my last conversation had been with Keres. They shared the same body, but they were such distinctly different people.

“It’s fine. I needed to get up, anyway.”

I looked around the transformed living room, taking in all the festive details. The coffee table had been pushed aside to make room for a large, plush blanket spread out on the floor, piled with velvet throw pillows in rich jewel tones.

“Merry Christmas,” Bryce said, almost shyly.

“Merry Christmas, Bryce."

He ducked his head, looking pleased. “I might’ve gone a little overboard when I ordered food, though.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t you always?”

Bryce smiled and, just like that, somehow I knew we were going to be okay.

“We should probably eat before the food gets cold.” He gestured to the impressive spread on the table. My mouth watered at the sight of kung pao chicken glistening with chilis, dan dan noodles topped with crispy pork, steaming rice dotted with scallions, a colorful array of stir-fried vegetables.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak around the lump in my throat. We settled cross-legged on the blanket, the plush fabric soft beneath my hands. Bryce handed me a pair of chopsticks and I dove in, loading my plate with a bit of everything before shoving a big bite of kung pao chicken into my mouth. I closed my eyes and hummed in pure bliss.

“Good?” Bryce asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“Mmmph,” I mumbled around a mouthful of food.

I slurped down noodles and shoveled rice into my mouth, too hungry to bother with any pretense of table manners. Bryce didn't seem to mind. He watched me with a soft, fond look that made warmth bloom in my chest.

Bryce's smile fell, and he suddenly jumped up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Oh! I almost forgot. Hold on a sec.”

He dashed out of the room, leaving me blinking in surprise. Before I could even begin to wonder what he was up to, he returned, his arms laden with brightly wrapped packages.

He set the presents down on the blanket, an adorably sheepish grin on his face. I shook my head, trying to muster up some exasperation, but I couldn't stop the answering smile tugging at my lips.

“Bryce...” I started, but he cut me off with an enthusiastic wave of his hand.

“I know. We agreed not to get each other anything. But it's Christmas! And after everything that's happened, I wanted you to have something nice.”

The sincerity in his voice made my throat tighten. I looked down at the presents, taking in the haphazardly taped wrapping paper and slightly lopsided bows. It was clear Bryce had wrapped them himself, and the thought of him hunched over the gifts, tongue poking out in concentration as he struggled with the paper and tape, made a wave of affection swell in my chest.

Slowly, reverently, I picked up the first present.

I carefully peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek black case. Inside was a set of knives, each blade perfectly balanced and wickedly sharp. The handles were wrapped in supple black leather, molded to fit the grip of my hand. There was no note, but it had to be from Keres.

I blushed when I unwrapped the next present, which turned out to be a buttery soft leather body harness from Shepherd.

Shaking my head, I reached for a smallest wrapped box. Inside was a little plastic dinosaur, a stegosaurus to be precise. I picked up the little plastic stegosaurus, a smile tugging at my lips. It was such a simple gift, but touching. Dex had remembered that was my favorite dinosaur.

Blinking back the sudden sting of tears, I reached for Bryce's gift. It was messily wrapped, all uneven corners and too much tape, but it made me grin. Bryce's enthusiasm shone through even in his haphazard gift wrapping skills. I tore into the paper to reveal a box set of the original Star Wars trilogy on VHS. The tapes were weathered, the cardboard sleeve faded and soft with age, but it was perfect.

“I remember you said you used to watch these with your dad,” Bryce said softly, watching my face. “Before... everything.”

My throat tightened. I had mentioned it once, in passing. A rare happy memory from a childhood best forgotten. Bryce had not only listened, but he'd tracked down this relic from my past, a tangible link to a time when things had been simpler.

I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling slightly as I reverently traced the faded lettering on the VHS box. A lump formed in my throat as I remembered curling up on the couch beside my dad, a big bowl of popcorn between us, as we watched Luke Skywalker battle the forces of the Empire. For those precious hours, I could forget the cold silences and disapproving looks that usually filled our house. In the glow of the TV screen, I felt a rare connection to my stoic, distant father.

Bryce had given me back a piece of that innocence, that simple childhood joy. I looked up at him, blinking back the sting of tears. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion. “This means... more than you know.”

Bryce ducked his head, color warming his cheeks. “I'm glad you like it.” He nodded to the remaining presents. “There's one more.”

I followed his gaze to a small, flat package wrapped in plain brown paper. It was unmarked, unremarkable in every way. With slightly trembling fingers, I picked up Azreal's gift. The plain brown paper crinkled beneath my touch, giving no hint as to what lay inside. I couldn't imagine the taciturn, intimidating Azreal bothering with something as frivolous as gift-giving. The fact that there was a present from him at all left me both touched and wary.

I carefully peeled back the wrapping to reveal a small wooden box. It was plain and unadorned, the wood smooth and slightly worn as if it had been handled often. A simple brass latch held the lid closed. I flipped it open to find a rosary nestled inside.

The beads were made of some dark, reddish wood, each one worn smooth by the press of countless fingers. A plain silver cross hung from the end, the metal tarnished with age. It was a humble thing, utilitarian in its simplicity.

I picked it up, the beads cool and heavy in my palm. I was not a religious man. My parents' zealotry and the cruelty I'd endured in the name of faith had long ago soured me on the concept of God. But there was something about this rosary, something in the weight of it, the feel of the weathered wood against my skin, that felt significant.

I looked up at Bryce, a question in my eyes. He gave me a small, almost sad smile. “It was our grandmother's,” Bryce said softly. “Passed down to Annie, and then to us. She was a devout Catholic, said the rosary every day without fail. I know you’re not religious, but it has…sentimental value. Especially to Azreal.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers closing around the beads. To be given something so personal, so meaningful... it was a gesture of trust, of acceptance, that shook me to my core. Azreal, who trusted no one, who kept the world at a cool distance, had given me a piece of his history, his heart, even after trying to send me away.

“I don't know what to say,” I whispered, my voice rough with emotion.

Bryce reached out, his fingers warm as they brushed over the back of my hand. “You don't have to say anything. Just know that you're one of us now, Eli. For better or worse, you're part of this strange little family we've built.”

Family. The word sent a pang through my chest, sweet and sharp all at once. I'd been alone for so long. But now I had a family.

I closed my fingers around the rosary and tucked it carefully back into the wooden box before setting it aside with the other gifts. Bryce watched me, a gentle smile on his face.

I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I actually have something for you guys, too. Well, for all of you.”

Bryce's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Eli, you didn't have to get us anything.”

“I know. I wanted to.” I pushed to my feet, my heart thudding against my ribs. “Let me just go grab it. I'll be right back.”

I hurried down the hall to the guest room before Bryce could reply. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it for a moment, trying to gather myself. Nestled in the back of the small closet was a large, flat parcel wrapped in plain brown paper. I'd hidden it there a few days ago, working on it in secret during the rare moments of solitude I could steal.

With trembling hands, I retrieved the package, handling it with the utmost care. It represented hours upon hours of painstaking work, of pouring my heart and soul onto the canvas. Taking a deep breath, I carried it back out to the living room.

Bryce was exactly where I'd left him, sitting cross-legged on the blanket, surrounded by torn gift wrap and bows.

I stopped in front of Bryce, suddenly feeling shy and self-conscious. I clutched the large flat parcel to my chest like a shield, my heart pounding against my ribs. Bryce looked up at me, his hazel eyes warm and curious.

“I, um...” I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “I made this. For all of you.”

Slowly, I lowered the package and held it out to Bryce. He took it gently, almost reverently, and laid it across his lap. With careful fingers, he peeled back the plain brown paper to reveal the painting beneath.

It was a portrait of Shepherd and all his alters. Each alter had been painstakingly rendered in vivid detail—Keres with his gloves and cold, hungry eyes; Shepherd in one of his crisp suits; Azreal with his expression of stoic duty; Bryce with his soft smile and tousled hair; and Dex with his plastic dinosaurs and shy, hopeful gaze.

But it was more than just a physical representation. I had tried to capture the essence of each alter, the core of who they were beneath the masks they wore for the world. Keres's ferocity and loyalty, Shepherd's power and dominance, Azreal's discipline and deeply buried compassion, Bryce's gentleness and surprising strength, Dex's innocence and resilience.

I wasn’t much of a portrait artist, but it was some of my best work ever.

Bryce stared down at the painting, his eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. He traced a finger over each alter's face, lingering on the fine details, the play of light and shadow that made them look so alive, so real.

When he finally looked up at me, his expression was one of pure wonder. “Eli,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “This is... I don't even know what to say. It's incredible.”

I ducked my head, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “It's not that good. I just wanted to do something to show you all how much you mean to me. How grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Bryce set the painting aside with the utmost care before rising to his feet. He stepped close to me, his hands coming up to cradle my face with a gentleness that made my heart ache. “It's perfect,” he whispered fiercely. “You're perfect.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss so tender, so achingly sweet, it brought tears to my eyes. I melted into him, my hands fisting in the soft fabric of his sweater. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, until we were both breathless and trembling.

When we finally pulled apart, Bryce rested his forehead against mine. “I love you, you know. We all do.”

“Azreal doesn’t,” I replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

“He likes you. He’s just…overprotective.” Bryce squeezed my hand. “He’ll come around.”

I hoped he was right because I couldn’t go through another dramatic revelation from Azreal like the last one.

Bryce’s face split into a big grin. “Hey, want to watch Elf with me? It’s my favorite Christmas movie.”

My chest filled with warmth and I couldn’t help but smile back. “I'd love that.”