Being out of the building helps immensely. A few steps out, I can feel my breathing start to return to my control once more. My steps begin to slow to a more sedate pace. The pressure in my chest loosens appreciably. I offer a quick thanks in Denzani to the Blessed Dark for getting me out of that nightmare scenario in one piece and without an incident, then glance around to take stock of my surroundings.

In fleeing the store, my subconscious already started my feet on the path to home. I am half a block down the travelway from the mercantile already, with no real memory of getting there. My purchases are clutched to my chest by fingers that ache with how tightly I am clutching the satchel and it is a wonder that I have not clawed holes in the fabric already. And the few people out and about in my nearly abandoned neighborhood are staring at me. That is probably the worst part; everything else is manageable. It is a minor miracle that no one has screamed yet. Maybe all those times Gram came over for supper were useful in more ways than just socializing with Annika.

I put my head down, sling the bag over my shoulder, and stride out quickly for home. 

A few minutes of walking brings me to my door. Gratefully, I hustle up the steps and duck inside. The traditional Denzani whistle of arrival rolls out of me even before the door is fully shut. I am not expecting a reply, but one comes before I can even scold myself. It surprises me. 

"Kellen? What are you doing up still? I expected you would be asleep quickly, catching up on rest." As we are smack in the middle of refitting the entirety of IO, Kellen and I are both quite short on sleep. 

"Studying. I've got finals next week." He sounds exhausted. I also catch the crack of his voice that he tries to mask; his incipient puberty is not being kind to him at the moment and his voice is beginning to migrate into the baritone range already. 

I set down my purchases to remove my goggles even as I toe off my shoes. The glow of candlelight finally registers as I set my goggles on the hall table, a faint pool spilling out of the front room and into the hall. "You are not on holiday for Festival of Lights yet?"

"I don't mind." I can almost hear his shrug in his voice. "I mean, I expect the schools let out beginning of this week. But what am I gonna do with my evenings when I'm not at work? Figured I'd just get ahead at this point since I'm on independent study anyway."

A soft grunt of surprise escapes me. "Well, so long as your health does not suffer. I need you to remain well for another three weeks." 

Kellen's soft laughter rolls down the hall and wraps around me. Combined with the comfort of being safe at home, it eases my tension to the point that I can finally put my scales away. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm just reviewing before I hit the sack. How did your shopping go?" That rips a groan from the depths of my being, which brings another chuckle from Kellen. "That good, huh?"

"I am very surprised I did not cause an incident," I report sourly, picking up my satchel of purchases and taking it with me into my bedroom. "Why do the clerks always want to have a conversation? Small talk is so uncomfortable. None of them are truly interested in how my day is going, so why ask?"

"Because it makes them seem friendly," he shoots back. I can hear the grin in his voice. "And because it makes the day go faster to break it up with conversation."

My mouth turns down in a scowl, even though he cannot see. "I hate shopping," I grouse, even as I tuck the entire bag into the back of the closet. 

"Go to bed," Kellen chastises fondly. "You'll feel better after you sleep. I'm gonna finish up here in about ten minutes and go pass out myself. We have tonight off for Festival, right?"

"Yes. Meshani will have supper ready a bit early so we can go for a viewing walk once the overheads shut off." I refrain from mentioning that we will be exchanging gifts, as I am not certain Kellen has made any purchases. "Four and Ten are working with skeleton crews, so I would like to check in briefly at Three and Two to make certain everything is running smooth while we are out."

"Sounds good. Can we make a stop at runners central, too? A friend of mine is having his Last Run tonight, so I was hoping to stop by for that." 

I feel a brief thrill of surprise and turn away from the closet. "Of course!" Kellen almost never makes requests of this sort, so Meshani and I try to be encouraging and supportive when he does. "What time?"

"2300." His voice has a more relaxed quality than a moment ago, and I realize he was concerned I would deny him the visit. 

"We shall be there," I assure him. Wandering out of my bedroom, I decide to lean in the doorway to the living room so we can stop yelling across the house in conversation. “Do you need in the bathroom before I retire for the day?”

Kellen is flopped in the pile of cushions with two textbooks open in his lap, papers strewn everywhere in arm’s reach, and a pen tucked atop one ear. Idly, I wonder just how long he has been studying because based upon the mess, it appears to be at least an hour at this point. His hair is sticking up at all kinds of angles in a wild mess that I know is from running his fingers through the mop of blond strands. The dark circles beneath his piercing blue eyes tell me just how exhausted he is even without seeing the heavy grey blanket draped across his landscape. 

He looks up at me, contemplating my question. “I probably should take a piss,” he mutters, then starts shifting the texts off himself. “Also, you look as tired as I feel, so I’ll be quick and then you can go pass out.”

I offer a raised eyebrow along with my reply. “I can see precisely how tired you are,” I remind him, “and if you feel even half as tired as you look, then I am surprised you are still coherent enough to study.”

A look passes over his face that I expect he did not intend for me to see. His mouth opens as if to speak, but then he seems to reconsider. Something tells me he was about to fib to me. “I’m fucking exhausted,” he finally admits, his voice soft. “But I tried to sleep and a nightmare woke me right back up. That’s really why I’m out here studying.”

I can feel the hard lines of my face soften in sympathy. “Go on and relieve yourself. I will help you clean up and then sit with you for a while.”

He wants to argue. I can see it in the way his jaw sets and in the red that edges his landscape. But his fatigue washes out the colors and dulls the edges of his irritation. Instead of sharp anger, exhaustion blunts the emotion into a muted blur. Kellen slumps, realizing that he is too tired to even argue. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Setting aside his schoolwork, Kellen heaves himself out of the cushions with a faint groan that speaks of how hard he has been working of late. I feel genuinely bad for him; it is one thing to push myself as hard as I do, but another thing entirely to ask the same of him. And he has been a steady presence for me during this whole rebuild effort. Despite rotating the teams to ensure I do not pull from the same people too often, Kellen has been quietly exempting himself from the usual schedule to ensure that he is present for every single rebuild so far. And I have been taking advantage of that.

"Do you need a week off for your finals?" I ask quietly. It pains me to have to ask, as I really need his presence during the marathon builds as we replace every single system in each station from the ground up. But it pains me more to see him in such a state of exhaustion. 

"No!" His denial is too quick. Too forceful. The raw panic I hear causes my eyes to go wide. Fear sets in upon him. "It's fine. I've got this! I…"

My upheld hand cuts of his protests. "I am not angry with you, Kellen. Nor disappointed. On the contrary, I value your presence. I am asking because, quite frankly, I am concerned for you. To be blunt, your landscape is in a terrible state. And I would be very unhappy if it were due to me."

Kellen slumps, relief pouring from him in blue waterfalls before he can dam the tide. "Fuck," he breathes, and I suspect I was not meant to hear that. "I'm good. I just...I wish I could sleep better. But I'm used to it. I learned how to push past the tired years ago. And I won't let it affect my job performance." Desperation crawls in his belly like a dirty brown serpent. 

"Kellen…" It feels in that moment as though there is nothing I can say to assuage his anxiety. So I do not try. Instead, I pad over and simply enfold him in a hug. Only once he relaxes into the embrace do I speak again. "I am not upset with you. And I am grateful for your presence. You are a great boon to these refit efforts. This would not have been possible without you; never forget that." He nods against my shoulder, and I realize that he has been growing taller of late. His awakening hormones are pushing his height upward as he passes out of childhood and toward his adult build. "Go on and use the bathroom. I will start cleaning up here. Okay?"

"Yeah." His breaking voice and fatigue make the word come out in a croak. "Thanks."

I know he wants to remain wrapped in the comfort of an embrace. Kellen craves physical touch the way addicts crave their next fix. He almost shudders as he pulls away, so strong is his need for physical comfort. And it means that he scampers off to the bathroom quickly so he can return sooner. I feel a flare of despair on his behalf that he is so bereft of that comfort still, a remnant of his abysmal childhood, and I use that to fuel my tidying of his texts and notes.

Kellen returns after a few minutes and silently joins me in finishing up the clean up. Texts get stacked together and topped with the sheaf of notes, while writing implements are tucked away inside the small writing desk. A kneaded eraser gets rolled into a ball and bounced into a cubby. 

And under the pretense of cleaning, at a moment when Kellen is distracted, I quickly dig into the writing desk and withdraw one of his presents. A small part of me feels a spike of satisfaction that he did not discover it hidden in there when he got out his study materials. When he turns back to me, I simply hold it out to him without explanation.

“What’s this?” Curiosity paints him in pastel streaks as he reaches to take the gift from me. I merely smile and let him figure it out on his own. Kellen turns the small book over in his hands first, admiring the soft leather bound cover. It is embossed with swirls of color that twist and spin about each other in a pattern that has neither beginning nor end, set against a background of green. Inside, blank pages of parchment are bound together, waiting for ink or graphite to shape them. Kellen flips through, looking perhaps to see if there is something hidden amongst the pages. Wonder shines in his eyes and as pale pure yellows about his heart.

“Because your last journal was taken from you,” I finally tell him, my voice soft. 

“This is gorgeous,” he breathes. He turns it over in his hands once more before looking up to me abruptly. “Wait. Did you craft this?” I feel the corner of my mouth twitch upward in wordless reply. “Holy shit…” The words hold a weight of reverence this time. “Thank you. This is…thank you.”

“For Festival.” I had been planning to gift it to him later this evening, but now seemed like a better time. Occasionally, Kellen needs physical reminders that he is appreciated and has someone who cares what happens to him. He uses the back of his hand to swipe at his eyes and sniffles a bit as he nods at me. Across the whole of his landscape, gratitude and appreciation shine like purest gold. “But for now,” I continue, “we should try and sleep. Other gifts can wait.” He nods, and I motion to the cushion pile. Another nod answers my silent suggestion.

Kellen tucks away his gift as I strip off my shirt and settle into the cushions, wriggling down into the pillows to get comfortable. He puffs out the candle with a quick breath, plunging the room into inky blackness. I can see him, though. In the depths of the stillness, I see the emotional tangle of him tug off his shirt and toss it aside before crawling into the pillows. The warmth of a smaller body presses into the left side of my chest as Kellen unabashedly cuddles up against my ribs. My arm wraps around his shoulders to remind him that he is not alone, that he has someone now that will look out for him and protect him. Something he did not have growing up.

A bit of very old song drifts through my head as I feel Kellen’s breathing even out into slumber, a relic of ages long past.

Silent Night

Holy Night

All is calm

All is bright

If only Joseph Mohr and Franz Gruber had known just how bright that silent darkness really was. The calm of the moment chases me into slumber. Merry Festival, indeed.