December 25th 20XX; Daeo Aberra should be home.

Home, where the kitchen smells of cinnamon and nutmeg, and a little ceiling light paints the living room walls – and every portrait set upon it – a warm, orange hue. He should be home with his father, mother, and older siblings, who’d all wrap him up in a hug, pinch his cheeks, and ruffle his hair, even if he’s already 22 years old.

‘Not here,’ he thinks, as he makes two gentle knocks against the door before him. Why is he even here? He promises he’s no Scrooge, but he could have at least been working away in his study. And instead, here he is: shivering in a too-big winter coat on someone’s front porch.

Daeo’s gaze falls on everything and nothing in particular as he waits. Misha’s house is as unassuming as ever – save for an unfamiliar coat of arms engraved onto the front door, and strung-up fairy lights glowing up the night with neon green and holly red – and yet, there is an unspoken warmth that emanates from the little suburban house. He thinks he hears music from within – akin to the church hymns he’d hear whenever he passes by on Sundays; then, the distinct sound of dining utensils and ceramic plates clinking together. And finally, two sets of footfalls that draw nearer, until he’s met with an open door and two grinning Alastair brothers.

It’s Misha that speaks first; “I didn’t actually think you’d come over.” He tilts his head, “You don’t celebrate, right?”

Ilya, the little one, smiles up at him with a toothy grin and big blue eyes. He moves from where he was latched onto his big brother’s leg to latch onto his instead, little arms wrapping around his knee. Daeo ruffles the boy’s fluffy head of hair with a smile of his own as he says, “Mhm, but I couldn’t exactly turn down the offer.”

When they move to let him in and wipe off his boots, he’s met with a warmth that settles into his very marrow. It comforts him like a blanket on a cold night would – or when he’d come home to a less lonely apartment, but that was lifetimes ago now – and he finds that his blood feels like molten gold. A Christmas tree sits in one corner of the living room, decorated with baubles, a lovely star at the top, and already unwrapped presents sitting underneath. Any hymn he may have heard had long transitioned into those classic Christmas carols, and eventually, he hears their mother from the dining room; “Ah, there he is. Boys, dinner’s ready!”

Before he realises it, Daeo finds himself taking a seat at the table and has food placed on his plate. There’s an assortment of dishes set in the centre – roast chicken, brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes, to name a few. Misha and his father desperately try to get little Ilya to eat his vegetables, while he makes conversation with their mother.

Wrinkles appear in the corners of their mother’s eyes as she smiles at him, “We’re truly glad that you came over, dear.” And then, her countenance shifts to something a little more solemn, “I know the past year hasn’t been kind to you.”

“Ah.” That’s what this was – and a pit in his stomach forms. There’s a quiver in his voice when he speaks next; “I appreciate the concern, ma’am. I promise I’m holding up fine.”

“That’s good, then. You can always come to us if you need it, okay?”

A smile of his own, “I know. Thank you.”

December 25th 20XX; Daeo Aberra finds a home, but not one crafted of cinnamon and nutmeg. It is one of lavender and mint, carols he doesn’t quite know the words to, and a family that cares for him as though he was their own.

By: Keisha Santoso, Junior College 2 Courage