Chris was quiet for long a moment after Dylan was done. It was a miracle that the latter hadn't broken down while he was telling the sickening story that had played out earlier in the night.
They were all in the living room, Dylan seated on the floor in front of the armchair in which Chris was sitting, the formers back twisting in a way that was a little uncomfortable to be able to see the other. Riley was laying on the sofa by herself, curled up in a ball with a blanket over her body. They'd been there for about three hours and the snowstorm outside seemed to have no plan to calm down any time soon.
When they got there, they'd begun with attempting to calm down Riley as she'd broken down once again- rightfully so- as soon as she'd gotten into the room. Chris had handled it spectacularly, talking in a soft voice and asking what movie she would like as Dylan grabbed the snack bowls from the kitchen counter.
Riley had fallen asleep about two hours after that, which wasn't surprising. She had to have been completely exhausted from everything that had gone down. Her soft breaths filled the room as Dylan looked at Chris, who still hadn't said anything. Then, out of nowhere, the latter stood from his seat. Dylan scrambled to his feet on instinct, the periodical clenching of Chris's jaw giving away his fury despite his silence.
They stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity and Dylan's lip trembled from nothing more than the sheer emotion that Chris radiated. The football player took a breath and ran a hand through his hair.
"You know, I haven't been in a fight since junior year and it's been fine- good, even- but got I feel a need to punch someone," he muttered between clenched teeth, finally saying something. Dylan shook his head.
"That won't help anything," he reasoned, his voice weak.
"I know that I just- hey," Chris spoke up, grabbing onto Dylan's shoulders gently, looking into his eyes, "we'll figure this out. It'll be okay. Nothing they said about... anything is true. It's not wrong."
Dylan's vision went blurry. "I- I know I just-"
Strong arms wrapped around his body and he felt the first tears fall from his eyes. Surrounded in Chris's embrace, his knees almost buckled and he grabbed onto the taller as if letting go would cost him his life.
"I know that but it still hurts and- and Riley, she- they-"
"Shhh," Chris stroked his hair lightly, "it'll be okay. We'll make it okay for her."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. Now, I've actually made a bed for her in Sam's old room. She can't sleep on the couch all night," he said and Dylan nodded against his shoulder.
"We really can't. I slept on the couch last night and I've never felt that kind of ache in my back before."
"I'll give you massage later, 'f you want," Chris smiled, watching as Dylan walked over to the sofa where Ry was sleeping. He shook her shoulder gently and she mumbled some unintelligible words before opening her eyes.
"Come on, let's get to bed." He gave her a helping hand which she took and sat up. He turned his head to look at Chris. "Will you get a glass of water and an Advil?" In response, he got a short nod and saw the other disappear into the kitchen.
Riley walked behind him as they made their way up the stairs. Chris was just behind them all the way and when they arrived on the second floor, he took the lead and showed them the room where she'd be sleeping.
"The bathroom is just down the hall and if you wake up hungry you can just go into the kitchen and take anything," Chris walked to a closet and got an extra blanket which he then put on the bed.
"Thanks," she said, the voice roughened by crying and sleep. When no one else said anything, she walked up to the bed and collapsed onto it, not even bothering to take her clothes off. Dylan took that as their cue to leave. He nudged Chris and pointed at the door.
"Goodnight, Ry," he said before closing the door behind him and Chris.
"You're a good brother," Chris mumbled against his lips in a soft kiss. He rested his head in the crook of the taller's neck and wrapped his arms around him. They stood there, outside the door without moving, for a few minutes. Embraced in warmth.
"Can we go to bed now?" Dylan asked after yet another minute. Chris took a step back and cupped Dylan's cheeks, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.
"Yes, of course," he smiled and walked past Dylan into his own room. Dylan smiled and followed, pulling his shirt off in the process. "Do you want the right side like last time?"
"Yeah," he responded, letting his shirt drop to the floor and moved on to his pants. Stupid dress pants, he thought as he struggled with them, finally getting them off. He threw them toward the end of the bed.
He hopped onto the bed and got under the covers, Chris following close behind. They fought over the covers for a brief moment before settling on spooning, close together. Dylan buried his nose in Chris's hair and pulled him closer to his chest.
"This isn't sick, Dyl," Chris mumbled. Sleep had come over him in a flash and made his voice raspy. "This is good."
Dylan hummed in agreement. Fuck his grandparent. Fuck his mom, she knew nothing. If anyone was to be sick it would be them for wanting to send his sister away to some twisted, brainwashing rehab. Not him and not Riley. Not him and Chris.
"This is perfect," Dylan sighed.
It didn't take long before Chris relaxed in his arms and a soft snoring filled the room, but Dylan didn't drift off for a long time. He lay quiet, pondering the day's events. It was Christmas. He'd completely forgotten about that in all the fuss. It hadn't been a great Christmas, that was for sure.
From behind him, he could hear the buzzing of his phone, but he was too tired to pick it up. Just not tired enough to sleep. Also, he didn't want to lose the warmth that Chris was radiating. It grounded him in a way that was desperately needed at the moment.
After about an hour, Chris twisted out of Dylan's arms and lay facing him instead. An arm slung around Dylan's waist and soft breath tickled his ear.
"Dylan, calm down," Chris mumbled against him, "I can hear the cogs in your head turning like crazy."
Dylan huffed out a laugh and touched their noses together. "Sorry," he whispered.
Chris mumbled something that resembled 'That's okay', but Dylan couldn't be sure since half of it was muffled by the pillow. He sighed, moving closer and let his eyes shut.
With the sound of Chris slow breathing filling the room, his mind calmed and after that it didn't take long before he finally drifted away to dreamland.
By the time he stirred the next morning, Chris was already gone from the bed. The emptiness of the bed made Dylan sit up straight away, looking around the room. The snowstorm that had raged on most of the night had calmed down a bit and now the large snowflakes swiveled gently through the cold air.
Through the quiet, he suddenly heard a sound from downstairs. He threw off the covers and hurried to get a shirt from his bag to ward off the cold. In the kitchen, Chris was in the middle of a conversation with Riley while also cooking something on the stove.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he grinned at the sight of Dylan. "D'you want an omelet?"
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, sure." He turned his attention toward Riley. "Hey, how are you feeling?"
"A little better, I think," she smiled, albeit weakly. "I need to talk to Natalia."
"Nelly?" Dylan asked and she nodded. "Well, you can use my phone a little later. What time is it even?"
She chuckled at his confusion and then pointed at a clock above the microwave. "Eleven-fifteen. I'm surprised you slept this long, you don't usually do that."
"In my defense, Chris and I were up quite late last night," he defended, seeing her raised eyebrow and smug expression and added, "no, not like that."
"Okay, okay," she threw her hands up in mock surrender and laughed while taking a bite from her omelet. The sound eased Dylan's tension and he smiled.
"I'm just going to go and get my phone, I'll be right back," he said, turning back toward the stairs, leaving the kitchen. The phone was laying upside down on the floor beneath the bed when he found it, just where he'd left it the night before. As he'd expected, there were more than a few missed calls and messages, most from his dad.
'Call me when you see this,' was the last message. It had been sent at 01:12. Dylan stared at his phone for a few more seconds before deciding that it could wait until later and put his phone on the desk while he pulled on a pair of loose pants. Finally, he slipped the phone into his pocket before starting to walk back to the kitchen.
By the time he was back, Riley had finished her omelet and Chris was still in the same position in front of the stove, a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.
"Good," he said, letting go of the pan and grabbing a plate, "breakfast is served."
Dylan laughed. "I never imagined you as the housewifey type."
"Ha-ha, very funny." Chris plated the food nonetheless and placed it down on the table in front of Dylan. In return, he got a beaming smile from Dylan, who then moved his eyes to Riley, her silence worrying him.
But she didn't seem down at all. Quite on the contrary, she was looking back and forth between the two of them with an amused expression decorating her features. She noticed his staring and flashed him a smile.
"So, is Nelly home over the break?" Chris took a seat on one of the chairs and turned his face toward the youngest. She shook her head.
"She's visiting family, at least right now," she looked at Dylan as he picked up a piece of his food. "She'll be home just after new years. I kind of need to call her, though."
Dylan nodded. "I'll finish my food and then I have to make a quick call, then you can make the call."
"Or," Chris cut in, reaching into his pocket, "you can just borrow mine. I assume you know her number?"
Riley nodded and stared intently as Chris unlocked the phone. He held it out over the table and she grabbed onto it.
"Thank you," she grinned. She hopped off her seat and started tapping on the screen.
Dylan's eyes found Chris's and he smiled softly. "Thank you."
"What are you thanking me for?" Chris turned his body to face Dylan, one eyebrow quirked upward.
"For letting her stay, for lending your phone, for being chill-"
"This is nothing," he reassured, placing a hand on each of Dylan's cheeks. "Just make sure she's safe from your wench of a mother."
Dylan huffed a laugh. "Yeah."
"Anyway," Chris let go and got up from his chair, "who did you need to call?" He put the dirty pan in the sink and turned on the tap, letting it fill with water.
"Dad. He's left me, like, a hundred messages and called even more times than that."
"Okay," he continued to do the dishes and Dylan saw it as his cue to grab his phone and call his dad's number. He drifted slowly toward the hallway but avoided the living room since that was where Riley was sitting, she, too, being on the phone.
"Dylan," the name was more of a breath than it was a word, "I'm so glad you called me." There was clear relief in his dad's voice, which was fair and it was obvious as to why. He had, after all, taken Riley and ran. Rightfully so, at least in his own opinion.
"Hey, I saw that you left a few messages."
"Yeah, yeah, I did do that. I- don't know where to start. Your grandparents have left. I kicked them out last night and they were mad but I don't care. Is Riley okay?"
Dylan sighed. "Considering the circumstances, yeah, she's fairly okay."
"Good, that's good. Listen, I don't want- did she hear anything they said last night? While we were fighting? I want her to know that I am not and was never of your grandparents' side of things. You can both come home now," his dad pleaded. He sounded tired; as if he'd been up all night long.
"What about mom?"
There was a brief pause, the silence filled with an exhalation from the other line. "We can talk about that when you get home, yeah? Face to face and all that."
Even though he knew that his dad couldn't see it, Dylan smiled. The relief that he at least had his dad on his side was enough to make his shoulders relax a bit, even though the knowledge of his mother not agreeing cut deep.
"Yeah, okay, I'll tell Riley that we're leaving."
"Okay, yeah, that's good. Are you okay?"
"I told you, we're fine-"
"No, I mean, are you okay, Dylan? Or do you want to talk about that at home, too."
Dylan paused, having paced slowly back and forth while the call was going on. Was he okay, really? He turned around, looking back into the kitchen where Chris was leaning against the kitchen island, already looking at him. He gave him one of those smiles, a knowing but soft one that always made Dylan smile, too.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he answered finally. And truthfully. Maybe it wasn't completely true, judging by the ever-burning hurt and anger that he felt bubble up under the surface, but it was true enough. He knew he'd be okay.
"That's good to hear. You have good friends that let you stay over like that... because I assume that you went to a friend?" It was more a question than it was a statement and Dylan huffed a laugh.
"Yeah, but we can talk about that at home, too, can't we? I'm going to tell Riley to pack up."
"You do that, I'll make some food."
"That's not necessary, we've just eaten breakfast. I'll see you at home."
With that, he hung up the phone and let it slip back into his pocket. He walked back into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Chris's neck. Without saying a word, he pressed their lips together. For a few moments, they stayed like that, each following the other in a coordinated dance of lips that went back and forth between the two.
When Dylan broke for air, Chris huffed a breath and rested his forehead against the soccer player's. "So... the call went well?"
"The call went fine, I just wanted to kiss you," Dylan pulled his head down to connect their lips together again, but this time for a lot shorter. "Dad said that they've left, so I'm taking Ry home."
"Do you want me to come with?" Chris asked, leaning back before raising a hand and pushing some hair out of his face. Dylan grinned.
"Yes... but I think it's better if you don't. Mom left, too, so I think there's a very grave family conversation waiting and I don't want to pull you into that. But I'll come by in a few days, maybe?" He raised his eyes to meet Chris's and the other smiled softly.
"Okay, that's okay. You can come by any time you want."
Dylan nodded. As if on cue, Riley came into the kitchen, holding Chris's phone with both hands. She went over and handed it back to him.
"Are you alright?" Dylan asked. Her eyes were red and it was obvious that she'd cried, but she nodded at his question.
"Mmhm," she smiled, a tired but sincere smile, "I'm good."
"Okay," he breathed. "Anyway, dad really misses us already so we better get packing so that he doesn't go crazy."
At first, she seemed a bit surprised, her brow furrowed. Then, it turned into acceptance and she nodded, the smile returning to her lips. "I'll do that, then. Thanks," she turned to Chris, "for letting me use the phone. And stay here, for that matter."
He smiled in return. "It's no problem."
With that, Riley gave a short nod and started to walk toward the stairway to the second floor. Dylan sighed. Hopefully, that conversation that was to take place when they got home wouldn't be way too awkward, nor too serious for that matter. Thought it probably would be the latter.
He tapped gently at the kitchen island, drumming some melody of a song that he couldn't remember the name of right at that moment. Neither of the boys made any move and they stood in silence.
"I should get my bag, too," Dylan said after a few long seconds. Chris didn't respond with anything with a nod and the soccer player left the kitchen and made his way to Chris's room.
A few minutes later, both he and Riley stood by the door, getting their jackets on.
"I'll call you later," Dylan smiled and pulled Chris, who had been standing a few feet away, in for a fleeting kiss. The latter hummed.
"Good, and good luck," he replied.
"Thanks, we're going to need it," and with that, Riley opened the front door and the two left the house.
__
The moment they got through the door, their dad was there. He wrapped his arms around Riley and closed his eyes, taking in her presence. Dylan let his bag drop to the floor and stood back, waiting for nothing in particular. A moment later, his dad opened his eyes and reached an arm out to pull him into the hug as well.
"I love you, no matter what, you hear me?" He stated, his voice slightly muffled. For a moment, they all just stood there in the doorway. Quietly. Then, their dad let go and took a breath.
"I'm gonna, um, go leave my stuff," Riley coughed, seemingly on the verge of crying. Not that Dylan could blame her, as he too felt his lower lip tremble.
"Come to the living room after, okay?"
Riley nodded and disappeared up the stairs. There was a moment of silence before Dylan huffed and started to shrug his jacket off.
"So, where did you stay last night?" His dad asked warily as Dylan crossed his arms over his chest.
"Uh, yeah, about that-" Dylan squirmed, scratching the back of his neck. As if it wasn't already clear that he was uncomfortable.
On the one side, it seemed like his dad took the whole don't-like-the-opposite-gender thing well. Like, very well. There was no reasonable explanation as to why he would take Dylan's coming out any differently than he had Riley's and this was a good opportunity. He fidgeted further. Was there a risk?
"Eh, we stayed at my," he cleared his throat, "the guy I'm dating's."
"Oh," it was barely a breath. Dylan looked at the floor. Then, a warm hand on his shoulder, giving him the courage to look up. "I'm proud of you, Dyl."
Dylan closed his eyes, the deep lines that had resided on his forehead dissipating and he pulled his dad into a hug. It didn't last long and ended with a slap on his back, but it was enough. It was enough.
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