“What’s that, Jamie?” Noah asks, kicking his socked feet up onto my couch.

He’s got his eyes on my houseplants, which I’ve gathered up together and wrapped with some Christmas lights.

“That’s my version of a Christmas tree,” I explain. “I can’t fit anything bigger in my apartment.”

“Hm. I like it.” Noah leans over to offer me the joint. “It’s nice.”

“Oh.” I smile at him, surprised. “Thanks.”

I didn’t expect Noah to say that, but it’s true: my apartment does feel nice and cozy around the holidays. It’s a snug space, and the glow of the Christmas lights goes a long way. There’s a blend of bare branches and pine needs visible through my windows, all coated with soft layers of snow. It’s warm inside, and a light mist is fogging the glass panes.

I always pull out a lot of blankets when it gets this cold, and Noah is snuggled back up against one, sinking slightly into my couch.

He’s relaxed and unwound tonight, his eyes not their magnesium silver, but something like pale oak. He yawns, stretching his arms over his head, and the snow leopard inked into the crook of his elbow yawns with him, jaws splitting into their silent roar.

“What’s the deal with that one?” He nods at the small, half-brown plant set in with the rest. “I’ve never seen one of your plants look like it’s struggling so hard.”

“It’s from the shop, I’m trying to rescue it. Yet to be seen if it’s gonna make a recovery.” I glance over at the plant, which is sagging a little. But one or two new leaves are starting to emerge, tiny and fragile. “You should have seen it before,” I add. “It’s like a whole new plant, already.”

“Well, if anyone can save it, it’s you,” Noah says, accepting the jay from me.

Again, I’m caught by surprise. I smile at Noah, warm with affection. “Thanks, man.”

“Sure.” He flips through the weapon options of the game we’re playing, then groans loudly when he sees we still haven’t unlocked the ridiculous, oversized sword that he wants to use. “Is there no cheat code for this shit?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Patience?”

I blink as Noah opens up the cheat code box, and starts typing it in.

“What are you-? Dude, I didn’t mean - I meant like being patient, you idiot. Not the word patience.”

“Oh.” Noah bites his lip, deleting it. “What the fuck ever, man! I’m high!”

“Jesus!” I laugh, stretching my leg to poke him with my toe. “It’s going right to your head tonight, huh?”

Noah makes a face at me. “This from the guy who started whispering when I turned down the volume on the TV.”

“Well-” My cheeks instantly start to burn. “I saw you pushing the volume down button - I got confused, okay?”

“You don’t have a baby, so you don’t even have an excuse,” Noah informs me. “Tolerance goes down when you don’t get to smoke as much.”

“Yep, I know. I teach science, remember?”

“It’s not science, bro,” Noah says, around a mouthful of smoke. “It’s like - chemistry.”

I let out a burst of laughter, nearly choke on my hit. “Are you listening to yourself?”

Noah lets out a helpless laugh of his own. “Honestly, no.”

“Okay, you know what?” I stub the joint out in the ashtray, then set it aside. “Let’s save the second half of this. We’re a mess already.”

“Fair enough,” Noah chuckles. “Good thing I’m sleeping here tonight. I know I’d say something dumb to Raj or Mel if I go home this toasted. Not trying to get laughed out of the house. You sure you don’t mind, by the way?”

“No, of course not. You’re always welcome to crash here.” I take a long sip from my water bottle, stretching out my legs. “Actually, I was gonna see if you want to go with me tomorrow morning to pick out a Christmas gift for Aiden?”

“Sure, dude.” Noah nods, clicking away with the Xbox controller. “I’ve gotta find something for him, too.”

“Well, you nailed the last gift you got him. He loves that bi pride hat, wears it all the time.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Noah flips to the second page of weapons, surveying his options. “The power of Ripples, huh?”

“I mean - yes, but give yourself some credit, too. You and Raj are the ones who decided what to commission.”

Noah flashes me a quick, bright smile, then shrugs it off.

“I guess. Don’t know what I’m gonna get Aiden this time. Or Raj, or Mel, yet.” He pauses, then pins on: “Think I know what Raj is doing for me, though.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “What is it?”

“You know how Raj makes custom surfboards? Or he used to, before all the focus went to the house?”

“Mhm.”

“I… have a feeling he’s making me one.” Noah tries and fails to suppress a dimpled smile, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the TV. “He knows that I used to surf a lot with my sister, and he’s been disappearing to his workshop space all the time recently. I showed up there without giving him a heads up, once, and based on the stuff he had out - I think he was making some surfboard skegs. He covered it all up really fast, but. Yeah.”

The mental image pops into my head, unbidden: Raj, his curly dark hair swept out of his face, meticulously working on a half-finished surfboard. He’s already so tired and busy with a new baby, but he’s chosen to spend hours making something for Noah. Something related to Noah’s sister, a topic that usually makes him sad. For Raj to take that, and it turn it into something that would make Noah happy, instead...

“Aw!” I find myself practically beaming. “That’s so sweet.”

Noah turns his face away, hiding it from me.

“Yeah, it’s - it’s nice.” I can’t see his expression, but I can hear everything in his voice, and my smile widens. “You know what you’re doing for Aiden?”

“I want to get him a book of poetry,” I answer, tucking my toes beneath one of the blankets. “I know he’d like that. But I don’t know which one, yet.”

“What?” Noah twists around to face me, arching a pierced eyebrow. “Aiden’s into poetry?”

“Um - yeah?” I blink at him, taken aback. “Why are you so shocked?”

“Just - look at him, dude.”

I think it over, and see his point. If you didn’t know Aiden, but you saw how he towers above everyone else, his musclebound body, the fiery intensity of his eyes - you would not go right to thinking he’s a guy who’d be into poetry.

It’s one of the many contradictions I adore about Aiden. He’s built like a warrior, but when you look into his heart, you find poetry. It’s like facing down a massive lion, then realizing that the claws aren’t out, that it only wants to snuggle you.

“Aiden is into poetry,” I inform Noah. “He has been since high school, actually. Since he was like, fifteen.”

“Shut the fuck up, bro.”

“No, seriously.”

Noah’s grey eyes widen. He lets out a disbelieving laugh, then drops the Xbox controller into his lap.

“Well, cool, Jamie. Tomorrow you and I can go pick out a poetry book for Aiden, then brainstorm some presents for my girlfriend, and my boyfriend, and my baby.” He shakes his head in a dazed kind of way. “There’s a sentence that would have made no fucking sense to me, if I’d heard it back in high school.”

We stare at each other, then dissolve into stupid, stoned laughter.

“I know, man,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “I think about it all the time. How much I totally wouldn’t believe it if I could go back and tell my high school self that one day I’d be with Aiden, or that you’d be with Mel, or that you’d be one of my best friends.”

Noah stops halfway through reaching for the lighter. He looks over at me, and a flash of magnesium brightness moves through his eyes.

He glances away quickly, sparks up the jay again.

“Yeah, it’s fuckin’ wild.” He takes a long hit, then rolls the joint between his finger and his thumb. “Sometimes I think about how Melanie was always right there. She was Aiden’s girlfriend, so we hung out all the time. But I never thought about her like that. Beyond recognizing that she was beautiful, anyways. Just like she is now.”

There’s a brief silence. Noah breathes out a slow stream of smoke, then hands over the jay.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it,” he says, fidgeting absently with his lip piercing. “I was chillin’ in the cafeteria with one of the loves of my life sitting right next to me, and somehow I had no fucking clue.”

Oh, Noah must be really baked, to say something like that out loud to me. But the truth of it is so clear, ringing in every syllable.

He gets a look at my expression and seems to realize what he said. He presses his lips into a thin line, turning away.

“Ugh,” he groans, without looking at me. “Shut up, dude.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You’re saying something with that look on your face.”

“I’m not making a face!” I protest.

Noah snatches the jay out of my fingers, then takes a very long hit. “You are, though.”

“No, I was just - I’m just - just-”

“Oh, my god, Jamie.” Noah’s frown dissolves as he starts to laugh at me. “Stop trying to lie. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m worse at it when I’m high,” I admit.

“I didn’t realize it was even possible to be worse at it than you are normally, bro.”

I shrug helplessly. “Well - surprise.”

Noah snickers to himself, then settles back against the pile of blankets and cushions at his end of the couch.

“We were different people, back then,” I say, after a moment. “You, me, Mel, Aiden. All of us. The time wasn’t right yet. I know that sounds like a stoney thing to say, but-”

“No, it’s true,” Noah agrees, before I can finish. “For me and Mel, at least. Because otherwise Raj might not have been a part of it, and Raj - he’s worth the wait.”

I smile at Noah. I know exactly what he means.

“It was worth the wait for me, too,” I answer. “With Aiden.”

“Must have been,” Noah chuckles. “I mean, shit. We’re on the hunt for a poetry book for you to give him, right? As a present? Cause it’s something he’s liked since he was fifteen?” He grins at me lazily, the joint in the corner of his mouth. “That's love, man.”

~~~~

The next morning, Noah and I wander down the small poetry section of the local bookstore. I find a few poets that I think Aiden would like, then one I think he’d love. The words leap right off the page at me. Some of them are sad, but they’re all beautiful. Just the kind of thing that Aiden connects with.

After I drop Noah off at home, I curl up in my armchair, pull a blanket over my knees. I’ve got a few hours before Team Ghost Office meets up to discuss how it went with Calla, and I want to read some of the poems I’ll be giving Aiden. It’s my first ever Christmas gift to him, and I want to make sure it’s going to be good.

I read in silence for a while, then stop halfway through a page. One small section of a poem stands out to me.

So you’re here? Still dizzy from another dodge, close shave, reprieve?

One hole in the net and you slipped through?

I couldn’t be more shocked or speechless.

Listen,

how your heart pounds inside me.

I sit back in the armchair, thinking about every obstacle, every fear and doubt, every circumstance that conspired to keep Aiden away from me.

He fought so hard, overcame every single one, and found his way into my arms. He found a way through everything that tried to stop him.

Before I know what I’m doing, I find myself settling back into the armchair with a pen in my hand. I balance the book on my knees, and underline that part of the poem.

I see little pieces of Aiden in a lot of these poems, actually. I start scribbling notes next to them.

This reminds me of the first date you took me on, beneath the Sugar Maple, I write on one page. On another: This is how you calm me down when I’m stressed out. This is how you untangle me, pull me back into myself.

On some pages I just underline things. On others, I write.

There are some things I love about Aiden that I can’t find in here. Like how I always know when he’s gone to see his aunt, because he comes to me smelling like her house. Saffron and sandalwood. How I seem to breathe better around him. How I hear his rich, deep voice through my ears, but also through my body.

How I love him so much that the immensity of this thing could crush me. Instead, it uplifts me, holds me. A vast, tranquil ocean for me to float on.

Yeah, I can’t capture it all in one poetry book. But I capture as much as I can. Everything this poet wrote that speaks to me of Aiden, or of us - I point it out.

Eventually I stir from my reverie, realizing that I’ve left notes all throughout the book. I’m looking down at the very last page, on which I’ve written: I love you, Companion Plant.

Oh, my fucking god. I ruined the book.

I can’t give it to Aiden, not like this. This is way too much, he's gonna think it's stupid - and how is he supposed to read and enjoy the poems with my unsolicited commentary scattered throughout?

I groan loudly at myself as I cross the living room. Now I have to go back to the bookstore, get a new copy. I unhook my keys from the wall and reach for my jacket, wishing I hadn’t been so stupid.

But I hesitate at the door, looking down at the book I’ve written in.

“This is a mistake,” I say out loud, taping Christmas wrapping paper around the book a few minutes later. “Oh, god. What am I doing?”

“Um - Jamie?”

I look up to find Aiden standing just inside of my apartment, snowflakes melting in his chestnut hair, the glasses perched on his nose.

“Are you talking to yourself?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Or are the ghost goggles not working?”

“Um-” I snatch the book off of the counter, hide it behind my back. “Yeah, the ghost goggles must be broken, because I definitely wasn’t talking to myself.”

Aiden narrows his eyes, skeptical. “Uh-huh.”

Oh, god. My cheeks are already starting to burn. “Fine! I was, alright?”

Aiden huffs out a laugh, coming to stand with me at the kitchen counter.

“Yep, that’s what I thought.“ He holds out two cups from Mugshot, and the flowery scent of tea meets my nose. “You want chamomile or jasmine?”

“I want my dignity back,” I groan.

“That wasn’t on the menu today, apparently,” Aiden laughs.

He correctly guesses that I want the jasmine one, and offers it to me. I hesitate, then shift the book into one hand and reach for the tea.

Aiden draws it back, his eyes narrowing again. He sets both cups down on the counter, then folds his arms over his chest.

“Keane. What do you have behind your back?”

“Nothing!” The blush in my cheeks deepens and spreads. “Just - a Christmas gift for you that I changed my mind about. I’m gonna get you something else. This is too embarrassing.”

Aiden blinks in surprise, then cracks a smile. “Is it wrapped?”

“Yeah?”

His smile widens, and he tips towards me, his nose sliding over mine before our mouths brush together. I didn’t expect this response, but I let myself be drawn up against him. I take a deep breath of vetiver, smooth my hand over his beard, kiss him back.

Only to feel the book suddenly slip right out of my fingers.

“What-?” I break off the kiss, then glare at Aiden, who is now grinning widely, the book in hand. “Wow! Seriously?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t open it until Christmas,” he rumbles. “Just can’t risk you destroying whatever this probably incredible thing is.”

“Oh, that was so - I really ought to kick your ass, dude.” I shake my head at him, betrayed. “You’re so damn lucky that I love you so much.”

“I know.” Aiden smiles at me, leaning in for another kiss. “Believe me, I know.”