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"Seriously, Rean," Crow said, his frustration finally shattering against its breaking point. "I am not fucking spending Christmas in Ymir!"
Rean looked at him like a kicked puppy. Hell, Crow probably would've felt less guilt if he had kicked a newborn. There was nothing he hated more than arguing with Rean, but this time, it felt inevitable. The subject had been simmering between them for weeks.
He just couldn't keep pretending he was anywhere close to stepping foot in the place where he'd outright ruined Rean's life.
"I just don't understand why—" Rean started.
"Yes, you fucking do," Crow snapped, his voice cold.
"My parents have invited us," his boyfriend replied with delicate, pointed emphasis. "They would really like to host you, especially after they missed us last year."
Crow didn't resent the fact that Rean came from a loving home with an endless wellspring of affection. He knew acutely that his life hadn't come free of difficulties. Truly and sincerely, he was glad that Rean had such a strong, healthy relationship with his parents.
But hell if it hadn't given Rean a blind spot four selge wide.
"Yeah," he scoffed, because it was so obvious to him he wanted to throw something through a wall. "They want to see their son, and like it or not, we come as a set. It just so happens their love for you is greater than their loathing for me — that doesn't mean they actually want me there."
Crow hadn't exactly addressed his relationship with the Schwarzers yet, discarding it at the edges of his mind like an ever-growing pile of laundry. In all the time since he and Rean had come out as an item, he'd handily made himself scarce whenever they came around. Disappearing was one of his many talents.
Last year, he and Rean had hosted a quiet, intimate Christmas amongst themselves. Between gritted teeth, he would admit that it had been magical — perfect enough to summon the precious nostalgia of childhood happiness that had evaded him since he was seven.
He didn't understand why that had to change. He equally didn't understand why it was a problem for Rean to go alone. They weren't attached at the hip; they could spend a holiday apart, but Rean had acted like he'd sooner shoot himself in the face.
"Why would you say that?" Rean asked, his face crestfallen. "They don't dislike you, they just hardly know you. Everything they do know they adore."
Crow's frustration tipped past its boiling point.
"Oh, I'm sure! They love that their son is dating a goddamn terrorist, high-school drop-out, who—! Do you even hear yourself?!"
"Who what?" Rean demanded, unshakeable as ever. "Go on then, Crow. You clearly have a lot to say."
Crow ran a manic hand through his hair. He was sure the Schwarzers were nice, decent people under ordinary circumstances, but these were blatantly extraordinary circumstances. He couldn't understand why his partner, who was usually the most considerate man on the continent, was behaving in such an obtuse, spiteful way.
He couldn't look at Rean.
"You really need me to say it? You really need me to spell out to you how there's no chance in hell your family would be okay with me rocking up to Ymir on — oh, that's right — the steps of the house where I got your sister kidnapped and your father stabbed!"
"Crow—"
"They could have died, Rean! Your father nearly did! My sins don't get erased by your goodwill. I'm not stepping into a house full of people I did that to. How," his voice cracked. "How could you ask me to?"
He turned to leave, but apparently not fast enough to evade a Divine Blade. Rean caught his hand.
"Hey," he said softly, in that gentle tone that made his heart flutter and his walls melt because Rean only ever used it with him. It was uncalled for, really, not to mention unfair.
Crow still couldn't meet his eyes. Rean had a way of looking at him like everything he was was stripped bare. It was a blessing and a curse, to be so thoroughly known. He couldn't look at himself reflected back through Rean's eyes.
He was forever haunted by the fear of his own violent shame.
Whether it was Rean or his family, it still stuck.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't realise you saw it that way."
No shit, Crow wanted to snip, but he had the self-preservation to bite his tongue.
He tugged his wrist away, gazing out the window like a petulant child.
"Like I said," he sighed, defeated. "Don't let me take you away from your family, but I can't go."
He wasn't sure he would look Rean's parents in the eye for as long as he lived.
"It's not about logic, is it?" Rean mused. "I could explain to you how they don't see it like that: how they would never blame you for the schemes of the Noble Alliance in the civil war, especially not when you dedicated yourself to minimising casualties. Not when you weren't privy to the plans for Ymir, and ensured my well-being by all but letting me escape the Pantagruel."
For a history teacher, Crow mused, Rean sure had a knack for revisionism.
"Not when you were a vulnerable orphan, recruited as a an orphaned teenager and barely an adult with the world on his shoulders. That your mistakes mean far less to them than the fact you've saved my life countless times. I can tell you all that, but it won't convince you."
"No," Crow muttered.
"I'm going to give you a very hard truth, Crow," said Rean, and Crow braced for impact. "Just because you can't forgive yourself doesn't mean they haven't already. You can't change the past, but you can move on. Can’t you allow yourself that?"
Crow sucked in a breath.
"This isn't about my parents, is it?" Rean said.
"No," he repeated. "Well, it is a bit."
The subject of family was touchy with him already. He'd made progress enough to be self-aware of his heap of issues — the crippling addiction to the idea he was unworthy of love, for one. It always surprised him how deep the threads ran, even after he'd thought there couldn't possibly be more to dig. It was a toxic mix with the factual baggage of Crow’s war crimes.
How could he forgive himself? Rean understood his plight better than most. He was just a hypocrite, who liked to preach what he didn't practice. They both were. They took turns coaching each other through logic they couldn't convince themselves with. It wasn’t Rean’s fault that Crow was a stubborn idiot, slamming his head into a metaphorical wall of self-loathing. It didn't make his anguish any less real.
"It's Christmas," Rean pleaded lightly. "Stop punishing yourself."
Crow dared a glance at him. It was the wrong decision. Rean looked at him with so much love it hurt.
"Need a walk," he said shortly, before booking it out the front door.
This time, Rean didn't stop him.
-
The walk through Leeves was peaceful this time of year. Neither scenic nor warm enough for tourists, and most of the students at home or otherwise away, it was a clear run to the highway where Crow could blow off some steam.
It was dark by the time he trekked back to the modest house Rean had tried to paint as a temporary crashpad, which had inevitably turned into their permanent residence. He found Rean curled up on the sofa beneath a heavy woollen blanket, like some domestic fantasy.
He didn't acknowledge Crow as he padded into the room after his shower — he knew better than that. Crow was to be treated like a rescue cat at times like this: unapproachable. A creature you wait to come to you.
So when Crow crawled under the blanket and rested his head on top of Rean's chest, his boyfriend remained obligingly still. Ten minutes passed before Rean combed tentative, callused fingers through his barely-dried hair. Longer still before he placed his book down, and waited for him to speak.
"I know they're your parents," Crow said, as the steady rise and fall of Rean's chest grounded him with warmth. "It makes it harder."
The expectations. The risk of failure. It felt like he had one chance. The anxiety at the mere thought of it was enough to make him freeze up.
"You don't have to be anything, Crow. They'll love you."
"Yeah?" Crow murmured, glancing up. "Got a source for that, instructor?"
Rean chuckled. He slung his arm around the small of Crow's back. "The source is me, because I know you and them very well. Seriously, Crow. They don't hold a grudge against you for anything. The opposite. And I'm sorry if Christmas is too much. They've been eager to meet you, and, well, I guess they thought it would make things easier. No better excuse to surround yourself with the in-laws."
Crow blinked.
His mind stuttered to a halt.
"In-laws," Crow echoed. "Damn it, Rean. Don't go saying in-laws. To think you almost had me convinced."
"I'm serious, Crow. If it's too soon, let's wait. We can do Christmas at home. I love spending Christmas with you."
It was music to Crow's ears.
If only he could accept the olive branch. He'd been selfish enough for one day.
“Sorry for getting upset earlier.”
“You don’t need to apologise for that.”
"Rean?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me about your plans. What it would be like, if we went up there."
He could feel Rean smile through his body language.
He didn’t have the heart to tell him it didn’t matter what magic speech he worked: Crow forgiving himself enough to visit Ymir would be a Christmas miracle, and he’d already spent his luck on dying twice.
Maybe he could humour him a little, though.
"Well, perks of being nestled in a mountain range: the snow is practically guaranteed. Sometimes, just enough to settle, but some years there's fresh snowfall every day of the month. You'll love the hot springs when it snows. We bring in a spruce to decorate in the town centre, and lights..."
-
Crow was buying milk when his ARCUS lit up with an unfamiliar name.
Elise Schwarzer.
She never rang. Why would she call him, and not Rean? Was she in trouble? Panic surged in him. He nearly dropped his ARCUS in the aisle as he scrambled out of the shop for better reception.
"You alright, Elise?" he said as he picked up.
"Hello, Crow," came her voice, its elegant tone crackled by the speaker. "It's Elise. Is now a good time?"
"Sure," he lied, moving out of sight of the window where the shopkeeper was looking at him strangely. "What's up, Heimdallr under seige?"
"I would think you would be the first to know that," she quipped. Crow would've laughed if he didn't feel so shitty. Elise had been developing some bite to her since the war. It wasn't her fault his feelings took everything personally. "Actually, I am calling to ask if you're coming for Christmas."
Crow felt a sinking pit in his stomach. He'd never had a large family, so he had no idea how to play its politics. He did feel a bit betrayed by the sibling tag-team, though.
"Rean put you up to this?"
She sighed. "Not everything is about my brother, you know. Whether or not you come will change my choice of present, and since Rean keeps saying he doesn't know, I thought you might be able to offer a clear answer."
Crow couldn't tell if she was implying the gift would be better or worse.
"Uh, well, you don't need to get me anything either way. Nice of you, though. And have you thought he says he doesn't know because he actually doesn't know?"
"I think he's saying he doesn't know because he doesn't want to close off the possibility yet, and is hoping someone will change their undecided mind," Elise said primly. "You see, Rean has been so excited to show you around Ymir during the festive season, when the snow is at its most perfect. He would very much adore to have you with us. I think he would be very disappointed if he had to postpone his plans another year..."
"Alright, I get it," Crow said flatly. "The old guilt-trip strat. Aren't you supposed to be too proper for such underhanded tactics?"
"Aren't you supposed to be wrapped around my brother's pinkie?"
"Touché," Crow muttered.
"So?" Elise pressed. "Are you coming or not?"
Aidios, Crow did not want to be having this conversation.
"Look," he said, his voice strained. "You know what I did."
He hadn't avoided Elise to the same level as Rean's parents — it hadn't been possible — but he had still done his best. Whenever they found themselves in the same crowded room, Crow made sure to keep a wide berth. It was the least he could do to help keep her comfortable. She treated him with an abundance of caution, as she was well within her rights to. He didn't know what she thought of him, and he didn't want to know. He sent a passable joint gift with Rean on her birthdays, and made sure Rean sent something separately so she could safely trash the one tainted by his association. That was about the extent of their relationship.
They'd never talked about the other stuff.
"True," she said. "I've also had a lot of time to think about it, and though you did endanger me in the past, you did save my life many times more. You may remember we fought on the same side during the Great Twilight. So what I'm trying to say is, don't let your perception of my opinion stop you from coming for Christmas."
Crow let out a slow, steady breath. Its heat condensed into tiny clouds that lingered before they were stolen by the breeze. Elise was handing him something. Less than a peace offering, and far from forgiveness. Treatment just short of being too kind for him to accept. It settled more easily in his mind: rough but digestible.
"Yeah? Your parents think that way too?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.
"I don't think they have half as many thoughts on it," she replied. "They're eager to get to know you, and that's about it. Didn't you know they're the ones who keep asking Rean to bring you?"
Crow almost choked on air. He most certainly did not know that.
"Right," he said, his voice dripping with suspicion. "He does sing my praises an unreasonable amount, I guess."
He could practically feel Elise rolling her eyes. "You know, Rean isn't their only point of reference for you," she said. "But I suppose it is easier to come around to when you two are so revoltingly in love, yes. No offense."
"None taken."
There was a beat of silence. Crow's brain felt a bit like it had been on the receiving end of a Panzer Soldat beatdown — nothing but mush.
"So," Elise said impatiently. "Are you coming?"
"Uh... Why don't I get back to you on that one?" he said eventually.
"You'll text me by Sunday," Elise demanded, ever the council president.
"Ugh... I'll see what I can do."
"By Sunday, Crow."
"Fine."
"Good. That's all, then."
Crow shook his head.
"Elise?"
"What?"
"Appreciate you calling. You didn't have to."
"I know," Elise said haughtily. "Goodbye."
Then she hung up.
-
For all of Crow's anxiety, it was Badeaux who greeted him first. Bounding down the front path, he dashed circles around him and Rean in a bout of overjoyed hyperactivity.
"Hey, bud. Careful, you'll wag your tail off," he grinned, reaching down to greet the blur of fur. He was rewarded with the dog leaping to stand against his chest for optimal headpats, spraying fresh powdered snow across his front in the process.
"Won Badeaux's approval already?" Baron Schwarzer said, appearing from the manor with an affable grin. "Man after our own heart."
"Hi, Dad," Rean smiled. Rean gave Crow an encouraging nudge of his elbow.
"Uh- yeah," Crow said stupidly, his usual quips dying in his throat. He felt like a graceless, ugly duckling as he extended his palm for a handshake. "Hello, sir. Thanks for inviting me."
Lucia got to him first, throwing her arms around Crow in a motherly hug so expert, it transported him back to his childhood.
"It's so lovely to have you with us, dear!" she beamed. "My, you're so very tall! Come in from the cold, both of you. We've chocolate on the stove."
"How was the journey?" Teo asked, already ushering Crow in with a friendly clap on his shoulder.
"Not bad for this time of year, wouldn't you say Crow?" Rean replied, slipping into small-talk so familiar it was an art form. The Schwarzer manor was draped in red fabrics and dotted with tasteful gold ornaments and pleasantly warm from the open fireplace. By the time Crow had settled their luggage by the entrance, Lucia was reappearing with mugs heaped with whipped cream and marshmallows. He would later be found with his third empty cup by a smug-looking Elise.
There were no disapproving glances, no snide comments, no combative remarks. It was so normal, and so saturated with love. For not the first time, Crow wondered if he was utterly unworthy. If he had died a third time the proper way, and this was all a dream.
Then Rean took his hand and squeezed it.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.
They were home.