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Author's Chapter Notes:

It's time for Sunshine to spread some holiday cheer to his hermit. Enjoy! TAG



Chapter 21 - Back To You.



Unfortunately it took several days before I could get back to my sweet, solitary, Eggy.


After we finished our breakfast in bed, I called Daphne, who totally freaked out over the news that I’d hit my head again. She insisted that I go to Urgent Care right away and informed me she was speeding right over to pick me up. Brian brought me my fully laundered clothing - I think he’d even ironed my jeans, judging by the perfect creases down the front of each leg - and helped steady me while I dressed. By the time I’d hobbled down the five flights of stairs to the ground floor, with Eggy’s help of course, Daphne was already there waiting for me. I barely got time to say goodbye to Brian before the two of them had me deposited in Daphne’s car. But I did manage to steal a short little kiss from my Eggy as he reached across my body to buckle my seatbelt for me. He seemed startled but kissed back briefly so I figured it was a win. And then I was rushed off to the doctor’s without further ado.


During their very limited interaction, Brian and Daphne were playing it super cool. It was sorta hilarious, actually. I mean, here was the man who probably hadn’t been out of his tower in fuck knew how many years, and whose only human contact had been the boy that delivered his groceries each week, just casually helping me out of the building and into Daphne’s car while he pretended it was normal for him to chat up some strange woman. Daph, on the other hand, was trying her best not to react to Brian any differently than she would with anyone else, so as to try and not make things harder for him. If it hadn’t been for the way Brian nervously avoided touching Daphne as they joined forces to help me into the car, or the way his eyes kept darting around anxiously as if looking out for disguised attackers, I might have even bought his act. I think the only thing holding him together at that point was his concern for me, the big old softie. But, because of his epic level of discomfort, as well as Daphne’s overblown concern for the state of my physical well-being, the conversation was short and casual and we didn’t even get close to the topic of meds for Brian.


So then the doctors did their thing and declared me near death - or at least that’s how Daphne seemed to understand things - and sent me home with directions to stay in bed until at least spring. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit there, but that’s what it felt like. Did I mention that I’m not a good patient? I hate sitting around in bed all day, even when I’m really sick, and being told to stay put for days on end when I’m not really sick, just a little achy, was killing me. But I didn’t have much choice in the matter since I had no source of transportation and couldn’t yet handle the bus with my ankle the way it was. Daph, meanwhile, was working double shifts every day, taking up the slack for everyone using their vacation days in the lead up to Christmas, so she wasn’t even around to help me out with a ride. This meant, unfortunately, that my ass was stranded and I was left alone with my boredom.


I spent my time, like any red-blooded gay boy would, whacking off around the clock to memories of my shower with Eggy. And, when my dick got too sore for that pastime, I moved on to sketching pictures of my shower with Eggy. When even that got too tedious, I launched into a naughty texting campaign with Eggy that inevitably led back to pastime number one. Yes, I realize I’m totally pathetic, but it was working for me for the time being, so fuck off with your judgmental shit, okay?


Finally, it was Christmas Eve and I had an actual reason to get out of bed and get dressed. And for the first time in a long time I felt almost excited to see my father, since he was the excuse for my being allowed out of bed. I got up, took a shower, dressed in suitably stuffy clothing, and strapped on my old boot cast so I could at least hobble around on my own. Dad had sent a car to pick me up, of course, so I didn't have to deal with public transportation. It was like being freed from a long prison sentence or something. So I was feeling expansively happy to see dear old dad when I arrived at his house for the traditional, formal, Christmas Eve dinner with his replacement family.


That holiday spirit lasted all the way up until he started to grill me about what, exactly, I was doing with my life these days. Neither Craig nor his latest girlfriend seemed impressed with my description of life at TAIP. He didn’t even crack a smile when I told him that my Art & Architecture project had won an award and was going to be featured in that spring’s Student Art Showcase - an honor I’d just received notice of that morning. Apparently Molly’s announcement that she’d made the JV Field Hockey team at school was more important, according to Dad, and the conversation quickly moved away from me. I tried not to let it get to me as I sat there through the seemingly endless, five course meal, and tried to keep up with all the meaningless small talk without falling asleep. I seriously couldn’t wait for the day when I no longer had to kiss up to this boring old loser just for the sake of his money.


I was desperate enough that I used my concussion as an excuse to cut out of the party early - and, as an aside, was it telling that my father hadn’t even asked once how I had hurt myself or how I was feeling, cuz I felt that was somehow the truest gauge of the state of our relationship - begging off from the post-dinner cocktails and discussion of how I should amend my life in the new year. Dad seemed more than happy to call the car service to take me home.


Once I’d pocketed the envelope containing my usual Christmas check - because it goes without saying that my father could never be bothered to actually go out and shop for a present for his children and instead made due with buying us off - I loaded myself into the town car. I was so happy to get the fuck out of there; I can’t even think of the words to describe my sense of relief the moment the driver turned the corner and Dad’s house was no longer visible. But, despite my fibbing, I wasn’t even the least bit tired and the thought of going back to my boring apartment all alone was excruciating. I decided not to look askance at the gift of free transportation, and told the driver to take me instead to 26 Liberty Avenue.


When the car was only a kilometer or two away I texted Egbert with a warning. ‘Hey! So, if you hear someone at your street door in about 2 minutes, don’t freak out. It’s only your friendly Xmas Burglar’.


‘I thought even Burglars spent this night with their families?’ he texted back.


‘You haven’t met my family . . .’


I got a laughing face emoji in response but before I could elucidate, the car had arrived at my destination. I thanked the driver, making a point of being extra nice since he was giving up his own Xmas for this, then climbed out of the car and hobbled over to the street door of my favorite triangular building in the world.


Which is when I was stopped cold.


How the fuck was I supposed to break into the building with my foot in this damned boot cast? If I tried to kick it with my injured foot - my usual technique to jimmy the door - it would hurt like fuck. But, at the same time, I didn’t think I was stable enough to balance on that foot while kicking with the other foot. Damn my stupid bad luck and weak ankles!


Luckily, I had only been standing there berating myself for a minute or two before the lights in the lobby switched on and I saw Bill The Cat pattering down the stairs to come stand in front of me behind the door. I could see him meowing at me through the glass. He was definitely getting a little pushy about demanding his treats from me. I almost felt bad that I hadn’t had time to stop by a coffee shop on the way to get him his creamer.


“Hey, Bill. Could you go tell your person that I’m here and I can’t do my burglar thing with a broken foot?” I called to the cat though the door, getting only another plaintive meow for my efforts.


Thankfully the cat’s person chose that moment to appear at the foot of the stairs. Egbert had the biggest smile on his face I thought I’d ever seen. He sprinted across the lobby and twisted the lock before pushing the door open to let me in.


“Hey, Eggy. Got room in your tower for a holiday refugee?” I asked, getting this adorably shy smile in return.


“I’m not sure. I only have about fifty spare rooms, you know . . .”


“Sounds crowded . . .” I teased with a chuckle. “But, if you don’t take pity on me and let me in, I’ll be forced to go home to an empty apartment - Daph is working the night shift because she gets, like, quadruple pay for working Christmas Eve and tells me she needs the money - and nobody should be alone tonight, right?”


I saw a flicker of sadness pass through the hazel eyes but I was glad to see that he shook it off. He took a step back and formally bowed me inside. I limped forward a couple of steps until I was all the way inside and he could re-lock the door.


“Your ankle is still that bad?”


“It’s getting better. This boot makes it seem worse than it is because it’s so bulky, but at least it provides enough support that I can move around a bit more when I wear it.” I gestured at the encumbrance with resignation. “It may not be pretty, but at least it’s functional, so I’m just going to go for it. Personally, I think I totally rock the invalid look, don’t you?”


Eggy made this squinty-eyed face at me that caused me to giggle. Okay, maybe the giggling had something to do with the four glasses of wine I’d had at Craig’s dinner party - yeah, I’m blaming my un-manly giggling on that - I’m also blaming all that wine for the way I stumbled forward with my next step, almost toppling over.


The result of my klutziness was that Brian was forced to reach out and catch me before I fell and hurt myself for the third time. What the fuck was up with me falling all over myself in that damned tower, anyways? It’s like the place was cursed or something. At least this time, though, my hero was right there with his big, strong, arms, ready to catch me.


“Either you’re seriously aiming for that protective bubble wrap suit I mentioned before or else you just love doctors’ offices. I can’t tell which,” Brian half-joked as he settled me back on my own foot-and-a-half, holding on with one hand just to ensure I was truly stable.


“Actually, it’s all part of my secret plan to get you to feel me up,” I replied without thinking. Of course, then I realized that sounded more than just a little manipulative, and maybe even a little stalkery, and I didn’t want Brian to think I had some kind of kinky ‘Munchausen Syndrome’ thing where I’d intentionally hurt myself just so I could force my OCD boyfriend to touch me - because that was too creepy even for me, right? - so I rushed on to add an even more ridiculous excuse that made me sound even more pathetic than I already was. “Yeah, I guess now’s not the time to confess that I’m addicted to your cologne and I’ll do anything for another chance to smell you.”


Yeah . . . Did I mention the too much wine thing? . . . We’re blaming all of this on the wine, okay?


“You are easily the strangest person I have EVER met,” my Eggy declared with a confused shake of his head. All I managed was another girlish giggle and a soft burp. “Come on. Let’s get you someplace where you’ll at least have a soft landing when you do fall over again.”


I shivered as the warmth of his arm again wrapped around my shoulders; it just felt so fucking good, you know? He turned me around, pivoting my body using the heel of the boot cast I was wearing as a fixed axis of rotation, and once we were aimed directly at the opening for the stairway, he pressed against the small of my back as if to get me moving again. I happily held on and let Eggy guide me until just before he was about to hoist me up onto the first step of the staircase.


“Oh! Wait. Wait, wait, wait!” I insisted, pulling away from Egbert long enough to shift my messenger bag around from where it was strapped behind my shoulder blade so I could paw through its contents. “I gotta give Bill The Cat his present!” It took a moment or two, but eventually I fished out the little square wrapped in green holiday paper and tossed it to the tile floor in front of the curious kitty. “Seasons compliments, Mr. Shakespaw.”


The cat was already sniffing interestedly at the small present, batting at it cautiously with the tip of one paw, his kitty head tilted to the right as if he was trying to understand such a strange anomaly.


“What the fuck are you giving my cat?” Brian asked, sounding a little worried.


“I thought you said he wasn’t YOUR cat - that he was just a stray?”


“Fine. What the fuck are you giving the stray cat who lives in my building?”


“Drugs.”


“What?”


“I’m giving him drugs,” I repeated and then those damn giggles happened again and I was almost bent double with the hilarity only I - apparently - could see.


“Justin, why are you giving my stray cat drugs? What did he ever do to you? Bill, leave that alone. Come here, Bill. Bill!”


Brian started to bend over to pick up the package but right at that moment Bill hooked a claw through the wrapping paper and used the new leverage he had to toss the entire thing clear across the length of the lobby. Brian scuttled after the package but William was faster, darting through Brian’s legs to get to the present first. The cat then duplicated his prior feat and tossed his gift over Brian’s shoulder where it bounced off the wall and landed back at my feet. Bill scampered around his person’s feet yet again, following his new toy, where he finally stopped, crouching over the top of the package, and hissing loudly when Brian approached yet again.


When I’d stopped laughing and wiped the tears of glee from my eyes, I finally explained. “Calm yourself, Eggy. They’re good drugs. It’s just catnip. Bill will be fine. But I wouldn’t try to take it away from him if I were you. Not if you don’t want your skin shredded off by those claws.”


By that point Bill had used said claws to decimate the wrapping paper surrounding his gift and was licking and rubbing his head all over the burlap fabric of the toy. You could hear the purring even from several feet away. Yep, I’d clearly won Bill over with this gift.


“Great. So now I’ll have an insane cat going nuts all over the place for the next week. Thanks a lot, Sunshine,” Brian grumbled, pretending to be upset, but I was already onto him and saw through that shit easily.


“If you’re going to be mean and yell at me just for bringing your cat a Christmas present then I guess I’ll just take YOUR present and leave,” I threatened, shifting around as if I was about to head back towards the doors.


Of course I wasn’t serious and I’d expected my hermit to make another sarcastic comment and then we’d laugh and it would all be jolly and happy and we’d go back up to his rooms and maybe - maybe - I’d get through his OCD enough to get a Christmas Kiss or something, and all would be copacetic. So imagine my confusion when Brian didn’t say anything to stop me from pretending to leave again. Nothing. In fact, not only did he say nothing but he sort of froze up and became super still and didn’t even move when I looked back to see what the fuck was going on. This wasn’t right. Where was the jovial banter? Where was the teasing? What had I done? Had I broken my poor Eggy somehow?


“Eggy? Brian? What’s wrong? Did I say something to piss you off?” I asked, looking up at him with concern.


He blinked, almost as if he was just then waking up or something, and looked at me with a hint of confusion in those beautimous hazel eyes of his. “Uh . . . Um . . . No. No, it’s nothing. I just . . .”


I’d never seen him be so lost for words before. Not even when he was struggling to explain to me about his OCD stuff. This was different somehow. More personal in a way? Not that I understood how that was possible, but that’s how it felt. And, damn it, I couldn’t even reach out and hug him the way I wanted, or take any other physical action to comfort him.


“You know what? Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. Why don’t you spirit me away to your lair and let me get off this foot already so we can continue this conversation where I’m more comfortable?” I suggested with a flirty batting of my eyelashes.


The eyelashes thing gets ‘em every time, so it wasn’t any surprise that this maneuver quickly brought the man around. With a little humorous snort, he nodded his head and gestured towards the stairs again, as if inviting me in. I took a couple of hobbling steps in that direction before Eggy took pity on me; he slipped one arm under my armpit and around my back and basically took all the weight off my bad foot as we carefully climbed the stairs in tandem. Before you knew it I had assumed my usual spot on his couch with my boot cast off, my foot up on his coffee table, and a pillow for cushioning underneath.


“Ahhh! Thank fuck! That’s so much better. Damn I hate that fucking boot, but without it I’m trash, especially on stairs,” I sighed as the exhaustion of all that effort finally overcame me. Then I looked up at my hovering hermit and gave him my biggest, holidayest, smile. “So, ho ho ho, and all that jazz. Hope I’m not interrupting any holiday cheer over here. I just couldn’t bear staying at my dad’s any longer - did I mention that he’s a homophobic ass? - and I was hoping I could hide out here until I have to get up and go to my Mom’s for Part Two of the Holiday Horror show tomorrow morning.”


“Uh . . . Sure, I guess . . . I don’t really celebrate any holidays, though,” Egbert replied, looking around his rather barren looking rooms as if searching for the missing decorations.


“No problem. Trust me, if I’d wanted over-the-top decorations and pine-scented EVERYTHING, I’d have gone to my mother’s house. Did you know she even decorates the bathrooms with holiday shit? She has these special Christmas towels and little red and green covers for the spare toilet paper rolls that she puts on the back of the toilet tank. You can’t sneeze without knocking over some precious keepsake she’s got from her Great Aunt Louise or Grandma Marie’s crystal whatamacallit. I know she means well, but it’s exhausting,” I explained, getting a smile out of my man and hopefully putting him at ease at the same time. “I’d much rather spend the night here with my favorite stray cat, in my favorite oddly-shaped building, with my favorite recluse.”


“Exactly how hard did you hit your head the other day?” Brian asked with a shake of his head.


“Huh?”


“You must be brain damaged or something if you’d rather spend Christmas Eve here,” he grumbled.


“Nope. No actual brain-damage. Promise. And I’ve got the MRI to prove it. Just a mild concussion and a sprained ankle. I’ll be good as new in no time,” I assured him. “But seriously, I’ve had to suffer through my mother’s Christmas obsession for nineteen years already and that’s more than enough to tide me over. Besides, I needed to come by here anyway to deliver my presents.”


“I’m sure William is grateful.”


“Right? Because, drugs!”


“My cat does not need drugs.”


“Nobody NEEDS drugs, but we all like them occasionally,” I assured him with a smug, worldly-wise smile. “But he’s not the only one who needs presents.” I picked up my messenger bag off the floor beside the couch and pulled out the other gift that I had waiting inside. “So, are you the kind of guy who likes to open presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning?”


I held out the package towards Brian and waited but he just sat there staring at me like he didn’t understand what I’d said. Any normal human being would accept the gift, say thank you, and that would be that, right? Not my Eggy. Nope, he just looked confused. For a moment I thought maybe it was some OCD thing, like the package wasn’t clean or something, which, okay, I get. I hadn’t thought about that in advance. Damn. So, what should I do; should I just leave it on the table or should I go get one of his wet wipe things and try to disinfect the wrapping paper or something?


While I was still puzzling over what to do, though, Brian interrupted my thoughts and added a whole ‘nother layer of fuckery to the situation.


“I don’t know. I never had one before.”


So, what does one do with a statement like that? Can you say, ‘faux pas’? He’d never had one before? Never had a Christmas present? Like, ever?


“Oops sorry . . . I didn’t think . . . So are you, like, Jewish or Buddhist or, I don’t know, Zoroastrian, or something?”


He frowned and waved off my bumbling question with all the dignity it deserved - namely, zero. “No, I’m nothing. I just . . . I’ve never . . . Never done that,” he explained, pointing towards the gaily wrapped Christmas present as if it was some kind of unknown, alien social convention that might prove fatal if taken the wrong way.


Luckily, I managed to bite my tongue before I said something really stupid and demeaning that would point out how incredible I found the fact that he’d apparently never had a Christmas present before. Because who was I to judge, right? Eggy and I were way, way, way too new to delve into something that deep. For all I knew there could be a thousand relatively benign reasons for him not to celebrate this particular holiday. And it wasn’t like I was even remotely religious or anything; my family was more into celebrating the tradition of the holiday (on my mother’s side) and the commercialism of the moment (my father). But still, Egbert’s almost-panic at being given a present was as worrying as it was endearing. It made me want to give him my present even more than before.


“Then I say it’s time to start a new tradition,” I suggested boldly. “Here. I can’t wait till morning, so you have to open it now.”


Brian very hesitantly took the package I was holding out and looked at it as if he didn’t know what to do next. I tried to wait as patiently as I could, giving him all the time he needed to work through whatever mental hurdles he was climbing over. Eventually he turned the package over and started to very carefully pick at the tape, trying not to rip the paper. I just smiled because I’d suspected he wasn’t the kind of present opener who just tore through the wrappings like a banshee. Of course, that meant I had to wait and wait to see whether or not he would like what I’d given him, and the anticipation was killing me, but I was hoping it would be worth it.


As soon as all the tape had been gently pried free, the wrapping paper fell open from the back of the gift, revealing a smallish, wooden box. The wood was painted ebony but I’d used old wood so the texture was rough and looked worn. Eggy sat and contemplated the box itself for a good minute or two and all the while I wanted to vault over the coffee table, pick it up and force him to look at the other side, but instead I literally sat on my hands so as to stop myself. Why was I always such a pushy bastard? Sheesh!


It was worth the wait though to see the surprise and awe that came over Brian’s face when he finally did turn the present around and looked at what was inside the box.


The box itself wasn’t large - only about six inches square - but I’d managed to do a lot with such a small space. Inside the box, I’d mounted a strip of the film I’d used the first day I’d come around to take pictures of Brian’s building. I’d brought my old camera that day because I sometimes liked the contrast you got when using film versus digital photos. Of course, not all film photos turn out and you can’t just delete them and go on, like you do with digital pics, so you always end up with a bunch of unusable negatives. However, those unusable pieces of film make for great art in other contexts, hence my amazing shadow boxes.


“Here . . .” I reached out and flipped the tiny switch that protruded from a hole in the back of the box and the whole thing lit up from inside, backlighting the strip of film I’d mounted in the shadow box to reveal a picture of the Triangle Building. I’d also layered other pieces of film around the main picture, as well as painting miniatures of Brian, William Shakespaw, and myself, all of which were added to the collage. Then, to top it all off, I’d talked a buddy of mine from TAIP who does glass sculpture stuff into etching the words from Peebles’ love letter - the one we’d found behind his drawing of the building - around the periphery of the glass covering the face of the box.


“Match in strength and beauty the spiritual edifice we are building together . . .” Brian read the etched words that were lit up when the shadow box was illuminated. “Fuck! This is . . . This is art.”


“Well, duh! That’s what you get for pretty much all presents, forever, when you’ve got a resident artist on hand.” I spread my arms wide as if to put myself on display for him. “Making art is what I do, Eggy. Better get used to it.”


Brian moved some books out of the way and set the shadow box in a place of prominence on his bookcase and then sat down in the armchair adjacent to my couch where he could admire it from afar. The small lighted frame looked perfect amidst the assortment of hardbound books. I was quite proud of how it had turned out, to be honest. I was also gratified by how amazed my Eggy seemed by the relatively simple gift.


“Thank you, Justin,” Eggy murmured quietly as we sat there, mutually admiring his new decoration. “I wish I had something to give you in return.”


“I’ll accept your everlasting admiration aannnndddd . . .” I pulled one more item out of my messenger bag of tricks and displayed it with a flourish, “. . . your company for a holiday toast?” Eggy smiled and nodded at the wine bottle I has holding up. “I stole it from my dad’s wine rack as I was heading out the door, so it’s probably really expensive and really good. Care to have a glass with me while I regale you with humorous stories about how horrible my evening was before I got here?”


“I think I can handle that,” Egbert surmised, getting up to find some wine glasses, rewashing them after he took them out of the cupboard, fishing a corkscrew out of a drawer, and then joining me on my couch.


After which we spent the rest of the evening sipping our wine, talking, and laughing together. Bill The Cat even joined in on the little party after a bit, crawling into his person’s lap and falling immediately into a post-catnip doze. We talked about everything and nothing and it was absolutely the MOST pleasurable Christmas Eve I could remember in a long, long time.


And, I noted quietly to myself later, Brian hadn’t felt the need to sterilize the gift I’d given him or the bottle of wine we were passing back and forth all evening long, so maybe there was hope for progress after all.



 

 

Chapter End Notes:

4/5/19 - Back To You by Selena Gomez. Special Thanks to SandiD for artistic advice on what type present Justin would give Brian! Also, please forgive me if this chapter doesn’t have SunshineSally’s panache - she’s been feeling under the weather so I had to slog through this chapter mostly on my own - which was doubly annoying because I didn’t feel like writing a Christmas scene in April, but wth, right? Hope it’s not too bad. And, I promise that we’ll be moving on plot wise next chapter! Back to the tunnels! Yay! TAG

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