Thanksgiving at his grandparents’ house was always a lot — laughter that bounced off the walls, overlapping conversations, kids running around, and way too many sweet potato dishes.

 Chris stepped through the front door and barely got a “hi” out before he was being hugged from all sides.

 Tiana was already in the kitchen with Grandma, rolling her eyes but smiling as she stirred something. His older brother, Jordan, had arrived an hour earlier with his wife, Liz, and their adorable three-year-old son, Caleb — who immediately demanded Chris carry him around “like an airplane.”

 And then came the familiar screech from the hallway.

 “CHRIIIIIIISSSS!”

 He turned just in time to get tackled into a hug by his cousin, Zoey — the family’s unofficial celebrity.

 Zoey had 2.2 million followers on TikTok, and somehow still made time for family like she wasn’t semi-famous. Bright smile, curly hair tied up in a puff, and phone already in hand.

 “I’ve missed your boring ass,” she grinned. “Now come here. We’re filming.”

 Chris laughed. “I literally just walked in.”

 “You’ve been gone for months. You owe me content.”

 Within an hour, they were in the backyard doing a goofy skit about holiday expectations vs. reality. Chris had no clue she posted it that fast — but by the time they sat down for dessert, her video had hit 300k views.

 One of the top comments read:

“Okay but WHO is the cousin?? Please normalize tagging your cousins.”

 Another:

“Chris got that soft boy energy and I’m here for it.”

Chris rolled his eyes but smiled.

 Zoey nudged him. “Told you you were marketable.”

 Chris laughed, but then she lowered her voice just a bit, her tone shifting.

 “For real though… it’s nice to see you like this,” she said, eyeing him sideways. “You seem… lighter.”

 Chris blinked. “Lighter?”

 “Yeah. Like something — or someone — finally made you stop holding your breath.”

 Chris looked away, trying not to blush.

 Zoey didn’t press, just nudged him again and reached for her phone. “Whatever it is, keep it. Protect it. And post more. The people love a mysterious soft boy with good hair.”

 He grinned, heart quietly full.

 As the evening went on — with food, laughter, hugs, and Zoey dragging him into two more videos — Chris realized something:

 He wasn’t hiding anymore. Not really.

 He was just waiting for the right time to share the whole version of himself.

 And maybe, just maybe… he was almost ready.

Winter painted everything soft and white. Lights twinkled from every porch on the block. Inside Chris’s house, the tree stood tall in the living room — gold and red and glittering.

 Ash had been coming around more often, blending so smoothly with his family it was almost suspicious. Chris caught Lila whispering to Tiana once, “I think they’re dating,” to which Tiana just smirked and said, “No kidding.”

Christmas morning was full of wrapping paper and chaos and warmth.

But a few days later, Ash leaned in close while Chris was helping Lila set up her new toy drone and whispered, “Wanna escape with me for a couple days?”

 Chris blinked. “Escape where?”

 “Just us. Hotel. I’ll cover everything. You just show up and let me treat you like the soft princess you are.”

 Chris flushed instantly, eyes darting toward his mom — who thankfully wasn’t paying attention.

 “…Okay,” he said, trying not to smile too hard. “Only if there’s room service.”

 Ash grinned. “Already booked.”

The hotel was tucked away just outside the city — modern, glassy, warm-lit, and draped in December stillness. It felt like a dream from the moment they stepped in: plush rugs, complimentary hot chocolate, a view from their suite that overlooked soft, snowy rooftops.

 Ash insisted on carrying both their bags. Chris insisted on stealing the keycard and sprinting ahead.

 By the time they got to the room, they were laughing — not over anything specific, just from the lightness of finally being alone. No siblings, no friends, no pressure.

 Just them.

 The suite was beautiful. A huge bed, windows that reached the ceiling, and a balcony that opened to crisp winter air. Inside, the heater kept everything warm and slow.

 That first evening, they did nothing special — just ordered pasta and dessert, watched reruns on TV, and shared little kisses between bites.

 But the second evening…

 It was different.

Chris had stepped out to the balcony in one of the hotel’s robes, hair still damp from a shower. Ash followed after, holding two mugs of hot tea.

 They stood side by side, looking at the lights in the distance. Snow drifted quietly beyond the glass rail.

 Ash nudged his shoulder. “You cold?”

 Chris shook his head. “Just… peaceful.”

 Ash turned, studying him for a moment. “You know I love you, right?”

 Chris’s breath caught.

 He looked over slowly, heart thudding. “Yeah. I know.”

 Ash leaned in, brushing his lips against Chris’s — soft, slow, warm.

 Chris kissed him back.

 They kissed slowly at first — like they were still learning the shape of each other’s mouths.

 The balcony doors were slightly open, letting in a soft winter breeze that brushed against their skin. Chris shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. It was from Ash’s hands — warm, steady, and careful — tracing the curve of his neck, the dip of his back.

 Ash’s lips moved to his jaw, then lower. “You sure?” he whispered, voice low against his skin.

 Chris looked up at him, heart racing but eyes clear. “Yeah. I want this.”

 And he did.

Ash led him back inside, pulling the curtains shut behind them, dimming the lights until the room felt like a cocoon of warmth and gold.

Chris lay back on the bed, robe slipping from his shoulders, and Ash took his time — like he didn’t want to rush a single second. Every kiss was slower. Every touch lingered. He undressed Chris with soft hands, not just removing clothing but unveiling him gently, like he was something precious.

 Chris felt bare — not just physically, but emotionally. But he wasn’t afraid. Not with Ash. Not in this moment.

 Ash kissed down his chest, his stomach, his thighs — worshipful, but not overwhelming. Every part of Chris was seen. Was wanted.

 Their hands intertwined more than once. Ash made sure of that.

 “Tell me if you want me to stop,” Ash murmured as he slid beside him, brushing their foreheads together.

 Chris just pulled him in tighter.

 When they finally came together, it was slow. Unrushed. Chris felt everything — every stretch, every breath, every heartbeat echoing in sync. Ash whispered to him the whole time — soft praises, quiet reassurances, his name over and over like a song.

 “You’re doing so good,” Ash said into his neck.

 Chris whimpered softly, clutching the sheets, but it wasn’t from pain — it was the intensity, the closeness, the way Ash made it feel like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

 Ash moved carefully, finding the rhythm between their bodies like it was music. He paused often to kiss Chris’s cheek, stroke his hair, hold his gaze.

 Their moans were quiet, breathy, hidden in each other’s skin. And when they both came — together, or close enough — it wasn’t loud. It was intimate. Shaky breaths, flushed skin, and the kind of silence that says I love you better than words.

 Afterward, Chris curled into Ash’s chest, heart still beating fast but body warm, limbs loose and safe.

 Ash whispered, “You okay?”

 Chris nodded against his shoulder, voice small. “More than okay.”

 Ash kissed the side of his face, still catching his breath, fingers lazily stroking Chris’s back.

 “Good,” he murmured, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Because next time... I won’t be so gentle.”

 Chris froze — just for a second — then pulled the sheets up higher over his face, trying (and failing) to hide the full-body shiver that ran through him.

 He didn’t say anything.

 But deep down, he found himself looking forward to it.

 They lay there in the dark, their hands still linked, the city quiet beyond the curtains. No need to explain anything. Nothing to prove.

 They had each other now.

 And that was enough.