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New York City in winter was breathtaking in its beauty. For the first time in several years, there was really a lot of snow. Jerry remembers how, sitting at the window as a child, he watched exactly the same picture: small white snowflakes slowly sank to the ground, and the air around was saturated with a cheerful Christmas atmosphere. Jerry’s childhood was not as joyful as other children’s, but winter was just as much a holiday for him. In winter, his parents stayed at home more often.
And now he’s depressed. He looked through the window at the world around him and searched for light in the clouds that covered the sky. It’s no use, Jerry thought in mute despair. He didn’t turn on the light, trying to immerse himself in the magical atmosphere of the night, but felt nothing but pain on the periphery of his consciousness. The shadows of the past didn’t want to let him go.
“Stupid holiday!” he blurted out.
Multicolored lights were flashing on the facade of a neighboring house. Artificial light for an artificial atmosphere. Jerry felt sick. He was just tired of pretending to be in a good mood. He was alone, and until tonight it seemed to be the norm. No one was running after him, no one was rushing him, he was in no hurry and just went into himself. Jerry walked into the kitchen, poured himself a coffee, forgetting to add milk, and then remembered that he had no milk. Deciding to leave the coffee unfinished, he put the cup down on the table and returned to continue hypnotizing the deserted street with his gaze.
Someone knocked insistently on the door.
“What the hell?” Jerry grumbled.
He stopped at the door, touching it with his palm, and listened. If it’s the bad guys, they’ll break the door down without thinking, and if it’s the good guys, they’ll break it down as soon as they realize that the owner isn’t going to let them in. Jerry suddenly realized that he could have looked out the window to see the unexpected guest. And so it was. Jerry froze, looking at the dark curly hair that stood out against the background of the surrounding whiteness, and the snow-white skin on the contrary merged with it. Dean’s whole look seemed to remind him of some old movie. Only the short black coat he was wearing was clearly unsuitable for such weather, and he kept bouncing on his long legs, rubbing his gloved hands together. The first living and warm creature of the evening, Jerry thought, was standing outside his house. And he realized that he missed him so much that at any moment he could jump out on the porch and hug him.
A snowball hit the window.
“Jer! I know you’re home!” Dean shouted, smiling broadly. Another snowball missed its target, and Jerry stepped back. “I’m freezing... Open the door!”
Jerry didn’t think long. The Christmas atmosphere was ruined anyway, although, he thought, it wasn’t there at all. Then maybe curly hair and a short coat will bring him joy.
Jerry opened the door slowly, even though he knew Dean didn’t like to wait, and when he opened it, he immediately buried his face in the stiff fabric of his coat, and the bitter scent of his perfume hit his nose.
“Jerry!” Dean hugged him tightly, showering him with frosty freshness and something spicy. “Merry Christmas!”
Dean kissed him soundly on the cheek, and Jerry could have sworn that if he had been a girl, there would have been a lipstick mark on his cheek. But he still hugged him back. Dean smelled of gingerbread, cocoa and some kind of alcohol, but it was even pleasant. Jerry didn’t want to kick him out at all, but wanted to warm him up and taste him. If he’s as sweet as that. Gingerbread Dean.
“It’s good that you’re home, darling! It’s so cold outside. You have no idea,” Dean chattered incessantly, pushing Jerry sideways and quickly walking in. “I wanted to buy you a present, but I didn’t have time. The store was already closed. Can I help you decorate the house?”
“Paul,” Jerry folded his arms across his chest. “How did you end up here?”
Dean freezes and no longer seems funny and frivolous like a second ago. His eyelashes are trembling, and Jerry only now notices a bruise on his cheek. Dean blushes, hiding his eyes from him. Jerry sighs. It’s Dean. Nothing new.
“It hurts,” Dean winces, and his voice finally gets serious.
Jerry silently takes an ice pack out of the freezer. Dean curses again, and he puts it in his hand. Then turns to the stove and puts the kettle on.
“Five spoonfuls of sugar,” Dean mutters to his back, and Jerry obediently nods. He’s silent, and that’s okay. Dean is also silent, but their reactions are different. It’s like their roles have been reversed today. Dean is unpredictable. Jerry is predictable. Dean is like fire. Jerry is like water. But one thing is impossible without the other. And now Jerry understands this better than ever.
“Alright,” Jerry looks at Dean, who is greedily eating his sandwich. “Where did you get that bruise? And you still haven’t explained to me how you ended up here.”
Dean stops chewing and swallows slowly, looking at him.
“I was robbed,” he says carelessly, as if nothing had happened. Jerry closes his eyes. “I went to the store and didn’t get there. Someone hit me in the face and I immediately blacked out. I thought we’d spend Christmas together, but what a holiday it is now when everything is so lousy. Anyway, the criminal ran away and forgot about me. I was lying on the ground, and the snow was covering my dead body...”
“Dino!”
“Oops,” Dean smiles. “Sorry. I don’t think anyone will be looking for me. So I was just walking and I came to you. I’m so lucky! Merry Christmas, baby!”
He reaches across the table for a kiss.
“It hasn’t come yet!”
“What if it doesn’t? Besides, isn’t Christmas a reason to kiss?”
Dean purses his lips, and Jerry finally gives up.
“A big one,” he chuckles. “Sure. One kiss. I missed your quirks.”
Dean squeals with joy and immediately climbs into Jerry’s lap. He doesn’t try to play anymore, and Jerry kisses him on the lips. Dean’s heart is beating too fast, and Jerry wants to cover this naughty organ with his palm so that it doesn’t jump out of his ribs, but instead just strokes his back. Dean purrs like a cat, and Jerry’s heart breaks with tenderness. If it weren’t for Dean’s craziness, he would now be celebrating this holiday in proud solitude. Jerry hates Christmas, but this stupid holiday has one big advantage. Dean is his Christmas. His personal Christmas. And maybe one day Jerry will become something for him too.
His Christmas.