We hold each other, panting, my chest swelling with something other than blood, something that feels a lot like …

A sharp knock at my bedroom door has us stepping away from each other, our now softening cocks dislodging with the movement.

“Kris, dinner is ready.” My mom calls from the hallway. “Have you seen Nick?”

“Fuck yeah I have,” I whisper and he scowls, before yelling louder for her to hear. “I've been in the shower, Mom.”

“Oh right, of course.” The sounds of her retreating footsteps have me stepping closer to Nick, wrapping him in a tight embrace which he melts into.

“I guess we need to head to dinner.” My lips tilt in a lazy smile as I lean my head to his, kissing his forehead before he leans back against the counter, eyes shining.

“It’s never felt like that.” And I know he means more than just the mind-blowing sexual experiences. Our relationship keeps strengthening and becoming more. “I’m not ready for this to end, I just can’t,” Letting out an exacerbated breath, “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

His words hit me, and I know exactly how he feels. I don’t know when Operation: Fuck My Big Brother changed course, but I can’t deny that this growing feeling in my chest is becoming harder to ignore.

“Who says this has to end?” I say, surprising even myself. Arthur's words from earlier strengthen my resolve, no one has any say in what we do. We are fucking adults and we can do whatever the fuck we want.

I unlock the bathroom door, step towards my closet and throw on a tee and some sweats, determination fueling my steps. Grabbing his hand, I entwine our fingers as we make my way towards the door.

He pulls me to a stop.

“What are you doing?” Looking down at our joined hands.

“At nearly thirty, I don’t think it matters what the fuck Klaus and my mother think of this. I want this. I can’t stop thinking about this, us. So what does it matter?”

He winces, and my heart plummets.

He doesn’t want this.

Holy shit. I just bared it all to him, and he is taking my heart and shredding it like dead pine needles scattered across the floor in January.

He grips my hand tighter, but I pull mine free from his grasp, running it through my still damp hair.

“Can we just wait until after Christmas, a few more days, let everything die down?” He tries to explain more, but I can’t hear him.

He doesn’t want anyone to know, he just wants me to be his fuck boy, to experiment. I swing open the door and make a break for the stairs. Nick behind me calls my name, but I don’t listen. I need to go.

“Kris?” Klaus’ questions from the head of the table.

“I uh, I have to go.” I make up some bullshit about an idea of how to fix the fucked up connection, like I have any idea about connections. Klaus almost looks proud at the fact I’m skipping dinner to work.

I can’t stop replaying the look on Nick’s face as he turned me down. I just throw on my work boots, grab a jacket and stomp out into the snow.

“Kris?” Nick’s voice sounds almost broken from the porch.

I turn back to him. “It’s all good. I’m glad we got this over with now and not later.” I try to disguise the pain in my voice, feigning indifference. But by the drop in his shoulders and the pity in his gaze, he knows.

“Kris, please.” He continues to speak, but I can’t hear him through the snowstorm that pulses through my ears as I make my way back to the workshop, not stopping till I’m safely locked inside.

Chapter eightNick

December 23rd

Kris didn’t end up coming back home last night. The perfectly made bed sits mockingly in his empty room. I had waited in my room till the early hours of the morning, hoping to hear any sound that signaled his return, but I ended up crashing out from sheer exhaustion into a sleep that was anything but restful.

The look on his face when he thought I was turning him down had haunted my dreams.

I needed to explain better, to articulate how my thoughts had transformed into an endless carousel revolving solely around him. That he wasn’t alone.

Why didn’t I kiss him?

Why hadn’t I said anything to reassure him he wasn’t alone in his feelings. That I was right there, drowning alongside him.

Instead, I let him walk out and spent the rest of the night silently hating myself over meatloaf and apple pie, listening to my father spout off weather reports and patterns for the big day.

There is just so much on my plate right now, at that moment I couldn’t think of adding one more thing to my ever-growing pile.

But Kris isn’t just one more thing.

The kitchen is empty when I finally drag myself downstairs. Grateful my father and Carol are already off doing one of the hundred jobs that need to be completed by tomorrow, so I could take a few minutes to sit and wallow in my stupid decisions over a hot cup of coffee.

The looming amount of expectations on me was becoming too much. I need to get through Christmas. Christmas had to be my priority.

I couldn’t let millions of children down because I had fallen for a guy. Fuck, not just a guy.

Kris.

My stepbrother.

The guy I have secretly pined over for almost half of my life was finally in my hands and I have already messed it all up.

I groan, my head falling with a thud onto the breakfast bar as the back door opens. I shoot up, turning to the door.

“Kris? … Carol, hi.” Carol gently smiles at me as she enters, arms full of freshly picked mistletoe. I spin back around, trying to hide my disappointment as I sink back onto my stool.

“Nick, are you alright?” Her smile drops as she takes in the wrinkled suit I wore yesterday. After Kris blew out of here like a hurricane, I ate dinner silently before excusing myself and collapsing onto my bed. Not having the heart to do anything else, even though my to do list seems to be ever growing. 

Dropping the flowers on the table, she strokes my unshaven face, lips twisting in concern, before taking a mug from the shelf. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she perches herself on the stool across from me.

Her Christmas sweater jingles as she takes in a mouthful. The knitted version of our festive village sprawled across it, a twinkling backdrop to the large Christmas tree that stands in the foreground. Decorated with small bells where ornaments would normally hang. She waits, hands wrapped around the mug, steam billowing from the cup.

When the silence becomes uncomfortable, my skin begins to itch and I can’t stop the words from tumbling out.

“I’m in love with Kris.”

Her eyes widen a fraction, but she keeps herself composed as she inhales slowly before standing.

Oh fuck. What did I just do?