Chapter Text
"But Mother, I–"
"Quiet," interrupts Tundra. Her voice is firm, giving no room for her son to pledge his opinion. "Your father and I will be busy all day, so you can spend the day here."
The boy fidgets with his hands, tucked away behind his back. His mouth opens again, although he knows better, but he doesn't even get to peep a sound before his mother leaves.
Winter watches her departing figure descend the sidewalk. She hadn't even bothered to say 'goodbye'. By now, he has honestly stopped expecting his parents to be nice to him. But when he sees other children being told 'goodbye', and 'I love you', it stings when he doesn't get to experience the same.
He stands outside the church doors for a long moment, reflecting on what a normal life could be like. His friend, Lynx, has kind parents who always show affection for their daughter. Even Aunt Glacier, as busy and serious as she is, shows support for her daughters, Snowfall and Crystal.
His mother is long gone now, disappeared into the city. Winter is all alone. He turns around to look up at the church that looms before him, admiring the intricate architecture for a moment, then heads up the large stairs.
Pushing through the heavy doors, Winter sees that a few people are settled on the pews, ready to leave. The priest is there, as usual.
As people leave, Winter heads further down the aisle. He sits down, and casts his gaze up to the biblical decorations adorning every shiny surface. The windows of stained glass bring in dazzling sunlight to make every corner of the church feel spacious and grand.
Though, no matter how much he admires the decor, or the sunlight, a prickle of unease sits at the back of his neck each time he enters this place. It always feels like he is being watched, scrutinized, condemned to Hell for sins that he is too young to fully comprehend. He always feels as though he was born wrong.
"Winter," the priest's voice hums beside him. Winter jolts, startled, and meets the older man's gaze. "Here again?"
"Yeah.." Winter shifts uncomfortably. The man makes him feel uneasy.
The priest offers a thin smile. "Don't worry. As long as you do penance for your sins, all will be well."
"I don't think I have any sins..."
"Your parents disagree."
"Um." Winter isn't sure what to think of that statement. The man didn't even bother to phrase it kindly. He switches the focus of the topic. "Penance?"
The priest nods. "People do penance in church to repent for their sins. It shows that you admit you are guilty, and that you will strive to do better. Confession is a helpful thing, my boy." He stands up, and gestures for Winter to follow.
He follows the priest by the altar, where along the shelved sides, candles are placed. Their lit wicks flick and dance.
Taking Winter's hand, the priest holds out his outstretched palm to the candle. Winter's fingertips reflexively twitch away from the flame. "What are you doing?"
"Just hold out your hand, all right?" hums the priest. "It'll be fine."
The boy isn't too convinced. He shifts nervously, watching the candle flame. "Doesn't it burn?"
"Hell burns, my boy."
Winter swallows at that. The priest lets go of his palm, allowing Winter to make a choice.
Taking a deep breath, Winter tentatively reaches out a finger to the flame. He hasn't even touched it yet, but he feels like he is melting. It burns too much already, and he steps back, but the words 'Hell burns' replays in his mind.
He hesitates. He feels eyes on him. Not just the eyes of the priest, but of something greater. He cannot tell if it is holy or not.
Maybe if he does penance, his parents will love him. Perhaps he will be worth something if he is innocent.
In the drug-induced dream, Winter's mind lets go of this memory, and conjures a new one.
Winter wraps his little arms around his older brother, clinging on to him like a kid would to their mother. But, as Winter had no mother to comfort him, his brother was the one who he seeked reassurance from.
Hailstorm frowns with concern, his warm brown eyes softening. He raises a hand to comb through Winter's soft blond hair, gently smoothing over the unruly strands. The little brother raises his head, and stares at him with the most sullen, sad eyes Hailstorm has ever seen. He is always busy with his education and job, so he doesn't spend as much time with his brother as he should. He isn't entirely aware of what his little brother is going through, and how constantly neglected the little boy feels. No wonder Winter attaches to him like a burr whenever he is around.
"Oh, hey..." Hailstorm murmurs, softening his voice to attempt sounding assuring. He isn't very soft-spoken, or good at comforting people, but he will have to try. He'll always try, always for his brother. He holds Winter's tear-glazed eyes, and strokes his round cheek with a thumb. "Hey.. It'll be all right. What's wrong? Hm?"
"Mother yelled at me.."
Hailstorm holds back a sad sigh. "Oh, why was that?"
"I don't meet her expectations.." Winter mumbles, quoting the words from his mother's mouth that were spoken earlier that day.
Hailstorm isn't sure what exactly to do. On one hand, he feels sympathy for his brother, who really was trying his best. On another hand, it was hard to go against the strict expectations of their parents. "Just do your best, all right?"
"I am," sniffles Winter. "I'm trying."
"I know you are. I know," Hailstorm sighs, ruffling his hair lightly. "Just keep doing it."
"But it's not good enough!" wails Winter with a little sob. "I'm not good enough..! I wish I were like you.."
"Winter..-"
Winter keeps wailing. "I try my best, I am! But I'm still a failure."
"No, you aren't. Stop that."
"I am!"
"You're sure of that, hm?"
Winter crosses his arms. "Yes."
"...Did they say that?"
Winter hesitates. That is all Hailstorm needs for a confirmation.
He wakes up. The scene from the dream is frozen in his mind, making his heart ache with grief that has yet to heal. How could it heal, when Hailstorm was the only thing keeping him together during that time?
Hailstorm used to call him 'малыш'. An affectionate term, used when he would ruffle his hair and laugh with him. When he would soothe his tears before their parents could notice.
He dismisses the memories quickly. Whatever. He doesn't need to hide in his past anymore. Childhood is over, and it had ended early. He is a man now.
A knock is placed on the door of his apartment, but the sound does not reach his ears. Instead, Winter only rolls over in the chair to grab the bottle of wine on the table that keeps him company these days.
His glazed eyes, focused on the television screen, droop. Boredom is taking root. He rubs at them, and stares up at the ceiling. Nothing is providing him with good entertainment anymore, and everything around him feels monotonous.
In the living room, the soft glow of the television flickers like a candle flame across the angles of the space. Tucked away in the shadows, hiding behind his father's armchair, Winter sits on the floor with his legs crossed. It is 8:30PM, and he is meant to be in bed by now, having finished all his chores. But instead, Winter is secretly watching a movie his father had put on. His mother is away at a business meeting, so he only has to worry about the watchful eyes of one parent. As long as he stays in the shadows behind Narwhal, he will be safe to prolong his bedtime.
The film is an older black-and-white war film. Winter doesn't understand much of what is going on, but the two main characters, both men, share a close bond. The one man leans on the other for comfort, and after, the second man makes sure he is feeling well. In another scene, they are visiting one another, exchanging private glances and fleeting touches.
To an observant child like Winter, the relationship of the characters feels too intimate to be merely friendship. Being a young child, he has yet to fully understand that people of the same sex are not allowed to be together. And, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to have someone in his life who would care about him enough to love him.
He wonders what it would be like, in the future, to have someone who would give him warm hugs, to have someone who would know him as well as those two characters know one another. It would be nice to have someone. It would be nice to know that he would not be alone in the future.
Winter has had crushes on girls before, namely smart girls in his class who he could talk to about all sorts of intellectual subjects without being judged. He remembers reading a book about birds with a crush, and it made him happy enough to improve the rest of his day.
But this time, he imagines the possibility of spending the rest of his life with a boy. He finds himself liking this idea just as much as liking the idea of being with a girl.
As soon as this memory reaches through the dull haze embalming Winter's mind, he freezes. He goes horribly rigid and pale, his fingers grip the fabric of the chair, his palms go sweaty, and his mind goes rampant with sinful thoughts. It's all Qibli, goddamn it! God fucking damn it, he can't take it anymore!
Winter leaps off of the chair, trips, and hits the floor. He grabs the remote for the television, and whips it at the screen. He can no longer stand the infernal noise. It isn't working for him anymore. It helped block out his thoughts at first, but now, he cannot even focus on what is playing on the channels. His thoughts consume everything, and they are all about Qibli! For fucks sake, can't he just get a fucking break?
His hands are trembling. Winter stands in the middle of his living room, in between the chair and the broken television, and watches the screen go corrupt with abnormal colours. His eyes run over the space, categorizing each item, wondering what else he can break. His vision is blurry, and he can barely even stay awake. How long has he been spaced out? How much has he drunk? How much has he slept? How many drugs has he taken? It's all too foggy to be sure.
"Qibli, we have to talk about Winter."
Qibli, who has been secretly snatching looks at Moon, snaps to attention. They are sitting outside in a public park, enjoying the serene sunshine. Qibli leans forward on the bench to show her that he is ready to take this conversation seriously.
"I know," he replies, rubbing his forehead with a troubled frown. "He's only getting worse, and I'm not sure how long it will be before it's.. too late.."
Moon regards him for several seconds, then sighs, plopping her elbows on her knees. She then turns her gaze ahead, gathering her thoughts as she watches people pass by. "Here's the thing, Qibli.." she begins, "Do you understand why Winter is going through this? I mean, you two have always understood one another in a way that nobody else could."
Qibli twists his hands nervously, but he stills them to try to hide his discomfort at the question. It hits a little too hard, as he had been hoping to avoid the 'why''s for a while.
He knows damn well that the girl seated next to him is fully aware of his hesitation. He can feel her eyes boring holes into him now, awaiting an answer.
"...He, well. It's a lot of things," Qibli says. "He's... relapsing, I suppose, into his childhood."
"Regressing?"
"I suppose.. I don't know. Believe it or not, Winter actually hasn't told me much about being raised religious. He has told me all about his strict parents, and all of that, but not the religion part. " Qibli sighs, and rubs his creased forehead again. "I think it was something he wanted to avoid for as long as possible, but now, he's going back to it because he can't deal with his emotions healthily anymore. As a kid, he coped by pushing religious standards onto himself. He's doing it again."
Moonwatcher hums thoughtfully. "As a kid, he had to deal with the loss of his brother, and the abusive nature of his parents. What is he dealing with now? What does he need to cope with?"
Qibli wishes he could avoid this part. "He- well, I don't know."
Moonwatcher is staring at him again, straight through his poorly-constructed lie. She drops the thoughtful act, and goes to business-mode. "Qibli, why don't you tell me the truth? I know that Winter loves you, and that is why he hates himself so much now. And you love him back."
Cheeks flushed with embarrassment haven been caught in his cautious lie, Qibli groans. "How do you know that?"
Moon deadpans. "It's obvious."
Qibli's cheeks burn hotter.
"Why did you try to keep that from me?" Moon inquires, eyeing him up accusingly. "Why would you pretend that you and Winter don't have anything going on?"
"Because we don't have anything going on. It's only feelings," Qibli says, trying to ignore the memory of kissing Winter. "Nothing has happened between us. And besides, neither me or Winter want to be in a relationship with each other."
Moonwatcher's eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion. "Why not? I mean, I know that Winter doesn't want to be with you because of his homophobia problem, but what's your issue with it? You've always been..."
"Been what?"
"Well, you've always made moves on him," Moon says.
"That–" Qibli isn't enjoying being called out so many times. He throws his hands up innocently. "It was friendly banter. I was kidding!"
"Were you?" She doesn't believe him. Who would?
The thrown-back question has his head reeling. No, he wasn't kidding. He has always enjoyed Winter's company more than he should. He has always set admiring eyes on him for too long. He has always felt more for him than what is considered normal.
Ever-observant, Moonwatcher takes his silence as a confirmation to her suspicions. She proceeds with the interrogation. "Qibli, just tell me why you said that you don't want to be with Winter, when you clearly do."
"It's complicated!" Qibli's first instinct is to weasel out of the question.
Moon isn't having it. "Just tell me. I'm sure you can explain complicated topics."
"Fine," Qibli huffs. "Fine then. I love someone else."
There is a pause of silence. The realization is hitting Moon now. She meets his gaze, and the air suddenly thickens. He just stares back. Oh, god.
"Qibli."
"It's–"
Moon cuts him off. "It's about me."
Qibli swallows. "..Yeah. Yeah, it is."
"Qibli, I don't want this."
Qibli's eyes widen; the sign of a heart about to crack. The emotions that hit him have made it hard for him to think rationally right now. Before he can think it out, his mouth stammers out: "You don't like me back?"
"I do!" Moon yelps in frustration. "I do love you. I do. But I also like other people, and we just aren't cut out for a relationship right now."
Reassured that his heart isn't going to be split in two, Qibli calms. He nods, running a hand through his hair. "Right. Right. You're right. I got carried away."
He glances away from her, allowing the conversation to take a break. He watches birds strut around the grass, people walk down the sidewalks, dogs meander around.. He inhales the crisp air, and relaxes further. He relishes moments like this, where he can take a breather, step back, and look at things with a better headspace. When he does this, the world feels just a little better. The smallest amount of hope can go a long way for him.
"Do you want to go check on Winter?"
Qibli glances at Moonwatcher, who is now looking at him. The last times they have checked on Winter, he has not answered the door. They wonder where he is. "Sure."
The two of them stand up, and head down the sidewalk to exit the park. The apartment building where Winter lives is several blocks away, but they manage.
Throughout the walk, they occasionally chat, but it is mainly silent; there is a lot on both of their minds. When they enter the building, and walk up the stairs, the growing worry sitting in their guts begins to churn harder.
Moon is brave enough to make the first knock on Winter's door. The last time they had checked on him, they had heard the TV on. But this time, when Moon presses her ear to the door, she hears nothing but dead silence. It is unnerving enough to make her blood go cold.
She waits. And waits. Knocks again. Waits. No answer.
"Winter?" Qibli steps forward, amplifying his voice. "Winter, are you in there?"
When he awaits a response, the silence also makes him queasy. He swallows thickly.
Down the hallway, someone who lives across from Winter is approaching. Qibli turns. "Excuse me?"
The person stops at their door. "Yes?"
"Have you seen him lately? At all?" Qibli motions to Winter's closed door. "You live here, right?"
The person nods. "Yeah, I live here. And no, I have not seen him at all lately. I hoped that he was out on vacation, or something."
"He's not on vacation.." Moon murmurs under her breath, looking back at the door, as if it will open if she just keeps checking.
"What if he is?" Qibli says. Any explanation would be nice to soothe his gnawing worry.
"Why would he be on vacation, Qibli? He's been isolating himself for who knows how long!" Agitated with concern and fear, Moon groans as she rubs her face. "Oh god, what are we meant to do? I can't imagine him leaving."
Qibli sighs. "Me neither," he admits in defeat. "All I can imagine him doing is rotting away in that apartment, dissociating, and drinking all day."
With sweat growing on her palms, Moon digs into her pocket to locate her cellphone. She goes into her contacts, and calls Winter. As the phone rings and rings, with nobody picking up, Moon's eyes begin to glaze over with tears.
The dial tone picks up. They barely hear it over Moon's tears, which have now grown into sobs. Just seeing her so distressed makes Qibli's eyes also fill with tears. He glances at the door, and considers even breaking it down. He doesn't know what to do. Winter is alive, right?
The hope he felt earlier is diminished now. With tears on his freckled cheeks, Qibli hits the door with his body, and wiggles the doorknob. It is a pathetic, utterly desperate attempt, and it ends in misery as Qibli breaks down crying.
"What's going on? What happened?"
The tearful duo whip around to see Turtle standing nervously in the hall. Qibli exhales a shaky breath. "Oh god, Turtle, you scared the shit out of me," he says in a croaked voice, wiping away his tears.
"Is- is he okay?" Turtle asks, with his wide eyes fixed on Winter's door.
Moon sniffles, and spreads her hands in a hopeless gesture. "We don't know. We knocked, we called him... Nothing. His neighbour told us that they haven't seen him in a while."
Now, Turtle is just as uneasy as them. But he seems calmer than them, and he seems to be thinking. "Which one of you called him?"
"I did," says Moon.
"Right. Here's what I'm thinking.." Turtle begins. "So, you and Qibli are the ones who look after Winter the most. He doesn't want anyone to fuss over him, so I would think that he'd rather talk to someone who isn't as close to him. If he will talk to anyone at all."
Qibli blinks. His mind runs over the millions of possibilities of what could happen, the probability of that being plausible, and how Winter acts. And the more he thinks about it, the more he agrees wholeheartedly with Turtle. "Yeah. Yeah, I think you're onto something. I think he would be that way."
"Well, who should give Winter a call?" asks Moon.
"Lynx?" offers Qibli. "Or maybe Snowfall; she could make it seem like it's family-related business."
Moon nods. "All right. I'll give Lynx a call."
She taps through her phone, calming down as she takes a deep breath, and runs a hand through her hair. She calls Lynx, explains it all, and Lynx says that she will get Snowfall to call Winter.
Several minutes pass by. The three friends have seated themselves in the hallway now, sitting on the floor, using the walls as backrests. Finally, Moon gets a call back from Lynx.
"Winter's fine," reports Lynx. "He's home. He sounded very out of it, probably drunk and tired, but he's alive. I think he just wants to be left alone."
"Oh, oh thank god," breathes Moonwatcher, clutching her face. She exchanges relieved looks with Qibli and Turtle. Qibli looks like he may just faint from relief. "Thank you so much, Lynx. Tell Snowfall we're thankful."
"I will. And it's no problem," Lynx replies with a small laugh. "I'm glad that you are all looking after him."
"Of course we are."
"Well, thanks anyway. You guys better take care of yourselves next, though. Don't stress yourselves to death," Lynx advises. "Well, bye-bye."
"Bye, Lynx." She hangs up the phone.
Turtle, Qibli, and Moon all look at one another, and collectively exhale a breath. Qibli is first to stand up. "Well, I suppose that is our cue to leave. Let's go."
They all head off down the hallway, not without throwing final glances at the barricade of Winter's apartment.
See you, Winter. Take care of yourself, thinks Qibli, before he turns his gaze away. We love you. I love you.
"God, I was so scared.." sighs Qibli with a shake of his head. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and raises his chin to admire the golden sky, painted with a setting sun. Beside him, the placid, grounding presence of Turtle accompanies him. Moon had left a bit ago to go home. Now, Turtle is on his way home, and is walking with Qibli before they take their separate turns. "I don't know what I would do without him. You know? And he's been arguing with me so much these past months, and now I never see him. I'm scared. I really, truly am."
Turtle nods, listening along. He is good at listening to other people, and processing their emotions. And this is what Qibli needs right now: he does not need any reassurances, any sympathetic anecdotes. None of that. Qibli just needs someone to understand his venting, to help him process everything. To be a helping hand. He likes Turtle quite a lot.
"I love him, Turtle," Qibli admits quietly. "A lot. Too much."
They look at each other, and their steps slow until they stop. In the deep depths of Qibli's dark eyes, a hint of helplessness glimmers. Turtle just regards him for a long moment.
Then, "You have a lot to figure out, Qibli."
A beat.
"Can I stay with you tonight?"
Turtle blinks. "Why?"
Qibli bites at his bottom lip. His heart is racing, and he isn't really sure why. An odd feeling between him and Turtle has emerged out of nowhere. "I don't want to be alone."
Turtle glances at the sky. His brown eyes look pretty in the darkening sky, and his bottom lashes are longer than the top ones. Qibli hasn't noticed that detail before.
"Yeah, you can stay," says Turtle. "My mother is away. And Auklet will be asleep."