Day 9
Saturday, December 24th
Christmas Eve Day
12:12 P.M.
Keith hadn't bought Lance a gift.
Christmas day was tomorrow.
At the beginning of Keith's trip the thought would've never occurred to him. Buy Lance Sanchez a Christmas gift? Never. Keith might've done so at university if he were forced to, but never of his own free will.
Things were different now. Lance and Keith were closer, more comfortable, more intimate. Before their trip it never felt like presents between the two were needed- their rivalry was enough to wager that. Things had changed, the trip had altered something between them. A present felt more than necessary- it felt required, expected.
What sort of thing did you buy for a guy like Lance anyway?
Keith grappled this question as he lounged on his (Lance's) bed. His laptop sat open on the mattress, screen displaying the dreaded Christmas break homework he'd been procrastinating. Keith was currently hiding; the arrival of Lance's cousins had brought too much noise for him to think straight. The new cousins - three of them from Jaime's sister and two from his brother- were all friendly and exciting additions to the chaotic household. The house was already bursting at the seams; an addition of two families labeled the basement occupied.
Keith had been introduced to the like as Lance's boyfriend, just as always. He'd shaken several hands, said hello more than five times, received a hug from Lance's aunt - all before he was off to hiding in the bedroom.
With the arrival of the Sanchez extended family came the promise of larger dinners, rowdier mealtimes, less personal space, and an increasing hype for Christmas day. Keith wasn't sure if he could survive.
Keith closed his course workbook rather forcefully, having made a decision that he was too distracted to be productive. He couldn't find Lance's gift on his own, and the noise downstairs was too distracting to think straight.
Staring at the shine of his closed laptop, Keith contemplated present ideas. Keith was always bad at giving gifts, but this gift for Lance had to be special. It was Keith's last opportunity to really give him something before they 'broke up' back at uni, and that meant it needed to be more than Keith's signature shampoo and conditioner set.
Letting his socks pad down the corridor, Keith moved towards Cleo's ajar bedroom door and knocked. He knew for a fact she was hiding in there - he'd seen her escape after being bombarded by the dreaded Aunt Cassie.
Keith had only been inside Cleo's bedroom a few times before; each time always felt like his first. The room was small, but it was the amount of posters that made it even smaller. There were probably over a hundred, all of them plastered to her walls and ceiling. The majority of them were images of stars, each poster displaying a different nebula or gas giant. Keith remembered the first time he saw the posters. Cleo had described in great detail her love of astronomy and her dream to one day become an astrophysicist.
"Hey," Keith muttered, noticing that Cleo wasn't alone. Sophia sat next to her on the bed, the two girls obviously related when you sat them side by side.
"Hey," Cleo answered, a small smile tugging at her lips. "What's up?"
"I-" Keith paused awkwardly, realizing they must've been in deep conversation. He couldn't help but feel he'd interrupted something important, something special between the two of them alone. "I can come back later if you guys are-"
"No," Cleo voiced firmly, moving closer towards Keith on the bed. "It's okay, we just finished." Sophia nodded her head in agreement, though she was silent.
"It's sort of hectic downstairs." He swallowed, feeling strangely embarrassed. "I was wondering if I could…"
Cleo nodded her head with a chuckle. "Sit down." She motioned for Keith to sit on the bed and moved to make room. He obliged, crossing his legs over the soft quilt.
"It's so loud down there," Keith whispered, pulling at the quilt's yarn ties.
"It'll only get louder," Cleo confirmed. "I'm just trying to take in a few quiet moments before I go back to chaos."
Cleo's reference to 'chaos' was none other than dinner prep. Christmas dinner for the Sanchez was Christmas Eve night, or 'Nochebuena'. Such a feast had been explained to Keith before hand. Rosa and Jaime had partnered up for the food preperation battle, recruiting all their children into their army. Both Keith and Sophia had been invited to help as well - even if Keith messed up several times and tension between Sophia and the other siblings lingered.
So," Cleo began, stretching her legs across Keith's crossed knees. "You ready to be completely torn apart tonight?"
Sophia spoke up, her voice politely quiet. "Wait, who's tearing Keith apart?"
"Lance, obviously." A wicked smile plastered Cleo's cheeks. "I was thinking mistletoe pranks."
Keith blushed, the red erupting as it always did. "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh, I would."
"Speaking of Lance," Keith began, trying desperately to change the subject before Cleo accumulated any more ideas. "I don't have a gift for him."
Cleo gaped, launching up from the bed like a jack in the box. "You what?!"
Keith nodded, though his blush had returned into something more sheepish. "I have absolutely no idea what to get him."
"Have you asked him what he wants?"
Shaking his head, Keith continued, "I've never been good at this sort of thing. I forgot that giving presents was even a tradition until a few hours ago and-"
"I can take you to get something."
Keith blinked, shocked that Sophia had even instituted the idea. She showed no hint of second thoughts, instead smiling at Keith all genuine.
"I don't mind - I have a car, Alexi's with Mateo, and we can escape without the others knowing."
Keith wasn't sure if that was a good idea. It wasn't that he was particularly against it; a trip to the store would be helpful. What Keith was against was the awkwardness he knew for a fact would be present. A car ride. Alone, with Sophia, the woman he had met only twenty four hours prior. All to get his fake boyfriend a christmas gift that he forgot about . How pleasant.
Except, underneath that layer of amiable cheeks, Sophia's question turned into something more than just an offer. It was a request, like she wanted him to come with her. Like she needed him to agree.
Maybe that's what lead Keith to say yes.
So here he was, sitting in the passenger seat of Sophia's old sudan. The two were headed towards Payson, the closest town with a real Walmart. Five minutes into their drive, and Sophia decided to pop a Tchaikovsky CD into the car's music player.
"Classical." She confessed, pressing play on the radio and turning the volume down to a soft hum. "It's my favorite. Reminds me of my dancing days."
Keith raised a curious eyebrow. "You danced?"
Sophia nodded. "Eleven years of it. My Mamá put Lance, Danny, and me into classes when we were kids."
Keith smiled at the thought of Lance being in a ballet class. It wasn't surprising- the boy knew how to move.
"The boys stopped early on, but I kept going," Sophia continued, her face reminiscent. "I loved every moment of it- I even dreamed of dancing in New York."
The mental image of a younger Sophia entered Keith's mind, one filled with pointe shoes and leotards. It was a pleasant image; Keith could almost picture Sophia's curls pulled into a tight bun on her head, or her arms held into first position.
"Why didn't you follow the dream?"
It wasn't until a few seconds later that Keith recognised the blunt, almost disrespectful way his words had come out. He instantly regretted them.
"I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself." Sophia smiled sadly.
Keith felt guilt for bringing up the subject, the kind that pulled at heartstrings. Why had he been so blunt? He blushed, knowing fully well how red his cheeks were.
"I'm sorry," He swallowed, feeling the hallows of embarrassment trail down his throat.
"Don't be. I'm sure you're curious about my sob story. But you know," She paused, relaxing her shoulders against the driver's seat. "It's not actually a sob story. Not really."
Keith tiptoed around his words. "How so?"
A pause. "I'm not sure you'd wanna listen."
He did. He did want to listen, and it wasn't because he thrived on drama. It was because there was something there, something hidden behind Sophia's mystery that he so desperately wanted to learn. Lance described Sophia out to be this terrible sister, one who'd betrayed him and was banished from the family. But Keith was smart; there was more to it than that. Sophia had her own side of the story to tell, and he wanted more than anything to hear it.
"Can you-" He muttered, ignoring the rolling fields behind the window. "Can you tell me the story? If you don't mind."
Sophia raised an eyebrow, and after a few moments of silence, she began.
"I got pregnant at seventeen - I'm sure you know that part. I won't go into the details of the situation - all you gotta know is that running away wasn't something I wanted to do."
"Wait-" Keith began, eyes round. "How? You didn't want to run away?"
Sophia nodded. "I ran away of my own free will of course, but it was my Dad who pushed me to do so. He was angry at me, furious for a long time. We fought constantly, and it was during our worst fight that he just told me to leave. I think he regretted it afterwards; but in the moment? I don't know. All I know is I left."
There was a pause, and Keith wondered if she'd keep going. She took a breath, and as their car merged onto the Highway 65, she continued.
"I may have been reckless as a teen, but I don't regret having Alexi. Not in the slightest. She helped me realize that life isn't a shithole. I know that sounds weird, because my life was a shithole. But Alexi? She was what made it worthwhile. She helped me learn not only about responsibility, but that despite the mistakes I made, I couldn't dwell on them. Dwelling on them would only pull me down, and living homeless and with a newborn child wasn't a good time to fall apart."
Sophia swallowed, and Keith could see her knuckles whiten on the wheel.
"I don't want to talk about the mistakes I made, how they occurred, or why they happened. I'm not ignoring them. I acknowledge that what I did was a mistake, and that running away was wrong. What I do want to talk about is the things I did that I'm proud of. I think that's something I learned while I was away; the fact that dwelling in the past is never a good thing. And it isn't the future we should dwell in either; it's the now. I spent so much time hating myself for the things I did. I ran away out of shame; I never came back out of that same shame. But as I struggled to take care of Alexi, I realized that I needed to focus on the present. I couldn't change that I'd gotten pregnant, and I couldn't change how having a child would affect my future. What I could change was how I reacted to each trial, each issue, all in the moment ."
She stopped talking again, all as if to catch her bearings. Keith wanted more, needed more. He was impatient; he wanted to understand beyond what he knew.
"How'd you do it," Keith muttered. "If you don't mind me asking."
A bite to the lip. "When I ran away I hid with this older friend of mine. She was a student attending community college up in Phoenix. She worked at the college as a cook in the cafeteria - some work study thing. It was through her that I got a job cleaning dorm halls. I'd bring alexi and sit her down in one of those bouncer seats."
Sophia laughed at that, reminiscing a time when baby Alexi would make gurgles and bubbles as her mother worked. Even Keith smiled, an idea so simple and so intriguing.
"Eventually I enrolled in the school with my savings. I'm still attending, but next summer I'll finally finish my associate's degree. Then it's my bachelors, and I'm hoping to get into medical school." She took a halt, all to beam so widely Keith wondered if her cheeks would rip. She was so proud of herself, Keith realized. She didn't need other people to push her forward - Alexi and her own personal success was all she needed.
"I'm gonna be a psychiatrist."
It was amazing, being honored with Sophia's story. Keith could barely believe she'd been willing to tell him, let alone open up so easily. It was such an intimate story, so personal and unique that Keith feared he'd taint it with his stranger's hands.
Still, it was Sophia's story to tell, and it was Keith she had chosen to reveal it to. The way she spoke was magnificent; it was obvious how far Sophia had come. What made it even more impressive? The fact that she knew how far she'd come, and she was proud of it. Sophia had been through fields of decay, trials and turmoil Keith was positive he could never face. Except here she was, smiling, breathing, living with this sense of pride that she rightfully deserved.
"And Alexi?" Sophia continued. "Alexi was there the whole way. She'd color while I studied, she'd practice her letters while I studied for exams. It was like we were partners; we were always there for each other. And her autism? It's true that it's hard, I won't lie about that. Lying about that is ignoring the reality. But it's a piece of her. I only felt it right that I accept the autism alongside every other piece that makes Alexi up. I think that's why I taught her about the spectrum from a young age. I didn't want her to grow up confused and conflicted, I wanted her to know and to understand it, to not be afraid of it. I wanted her to learn that she can be on the spectrum and still be my Alexi."
It was then that Keith realized how close Sophia was to crying. They weren't sad tears either - happy ones, ones that were so warm they even filled Keith's chest.
"That's why I don't consider it a sob story - my story isn't sad. It may have had a rough beginning, but the story isn't over. It's still happening, and I've survived through every awful chapter."
Keith wasn't sure what to say when Sophia finished; it was obvious she was done from the silence that filled the front seat. It wasn't so much awkward as it was peaceful, and Keith's thoughts spiraled out of control.
At the beginning of the trip, when Keith had learned of Sophia, his first impressions had been solely negative. Lance had spoken of his older sister only with anger and bitterness, therefore placing ideas in Keith's head of a sister who was the black sheep. He imagined a sister who had gotten pregnant at seventeen, a wild, rebellious, bully of a sibling who didn't know how to make mature decisions.
Sophia wasn't even close to that.
Sophia was hero worthy. Sophia was the kind of woman that made Keith's heart tingle. She was more than just a girl who got pregnant at seventeen, she was a human. A human who had made mistakes, taken a good look at them, and accepted them for what they were.
In Keith's book that put her at the top of the list.
"That's why you finally came back," Keith whispered, letting his eyes bore holes into the woman beside him. "It was more than Alexi wanting to see her family. You finally felt worthy enough to come back."
Sophia nodded, and she finally turned to look at Keith. "It took a long time for me to get to that point. When I could finally recognize it? I knew I needed to come back. I'm just trying to find the right time to tell my family that. And you know," She smiled, one so bright that Keith feared he'd burn. "I'm glad you chose to take this car ride with me. I needed to practice bearing out my soul before I faced the neverending wrath of my family."
Keith smiled. "It's easier to talk to a complete stranger than to talk with the ones you love. Right?"
"Exactly," Sophia agreed. "So. What kind of present for Lance did you have in mind?"
Day 9
Christmas Eve Day
1:05 P.M.
Keith had always known he was a bad gift giver. It was just a part of his nature, a fact about himself he could name off in a heartbeat. It was almost a running joke among his friends; everyone know Keith's gift giving knowledge lacked enormously. The last time he'd given anyone a gift was to Shiro, and he'd bought the guy cleaning supplies for their dorm room.
So yeah; Keith needed major help.
Keith popped his head around the corner of a Walmart clothing rack, a cheetah print jacket in hand. "What about this?"
Sophia raised an eyebrow at him and set down a shirt she was admiring. She spoke hesitantly, as if walking around her words to be kind. "Are you, um, sure that he'd like that?"
Keith groaned and hung the jacket back up, already on to the next rack. "You don't have to be nice about this. I know I'm terrible at shopping for gifts."
"You're not terrible."
Keith sighed and pulled out an ugly shirt adorned with a glittery frog, only to stuff it back into the sea of clothes. "I'm terrible. Admit it."
Sophia sighed and leaned against their shopping cart, arms resting over her purse. "That's because you're thinking about this the wrong way. You need to get him a gift he'll cherish, not a cheetah jacket he can embarrass himself in. He's your boyfriend."
Keith nodded like he understood, though he couldn't help but feel at a loss. Lance wasn't his boyfriend, and maybe that was the issue. Dating meant you could buy your partner sentimental things; presents that meant you cared, gifts that showed your love. If the two boys were truly dating, then maybe he could buy those things. Instead Keith was at a standstill, walking aimlessly around a busy walmart with no plan in mind.
After a moment of silence, Sophia kindly offered; "What kind of things does he like?"
Keith hummed, thinking out loud. "Well, he likes Star Wars. And anime, ridiculous amounts of anime. And, I don't know, memes?"
"Memes?" Sophia chuckled, now moving the cart out of the clothing aisle and towards the back of the store.
"Memes," Keith assured her, watching for anything in the aisles Lance might like. "He also really loves cringy music? Like, stuff that you're not supposed to play outside your bathroom."
As if a thought had just occurred to her, Sophia abruptly stopped the cart. Keith rammed into the metal rack with an 'oof', rubbing his hand when Sophia spoke.
"I know exactly what you should get him." A smile had grown on her face, both triumphant and rather excited.
"Is this," Keith paused, feeling hesitant. "Is this a boyfriend sort of gift? Or a Lance sort of gift?"
Sophia smirked even wider. She switched the cart's directions entirely, shifting them a whole one-eighty degrees. The two maneuvered around the bustle of other Walmart shoppers, almost crashing into a small family on their way.
"Both," She declared, out of breath as she pulled up in front of the electronics department. "Definitely both. Now," She turned to Keith, adventure gleaming at the crinkle of her tired eyes. "Does your laptop have a CD drive?"
Day 9
Christmas Eve Day
1:05 P.M.
Walmart was busy. No, more than busy; it was hell.
Sophia and Lance could've left the building long ago, could've already been home. But no. Besides Lance's gift - one that he was still unsure about - Keith also had his heart set on finding gifts for other Sanchez family members. It wasn't that Keith wanted presents in return. No, if anything he didn't want gifts. What he did want? Was to show this family just how much they meant to him, even if one day they'd be completely gone from his life.
It was hard looking for gifts, especially in a busy Walmart the day before Christmas. Keith had thankfully managed to find a few things; all with Sophia's help of course. There'd been a new plastic train set for Mateo, one Keith had seen the boy admiring in a Christmas advertisement. Josie was to receive a sketchbook paired with professional prismacolor colored pencils. Sophia had urged Keith to draw a picture on the front page (it was going to be terrible, though Keith was sure Josie would appreciate the sentiment.) Benji had been hard to shop for, but in the end Keith decided on a white shirt with a terrible logo on the front. Keith knew for sure the teenager would find it humorous.
Rosa though, Rosa's gift was the hardest. Keith had been at a standstill, staring blankly at the Walmart aisles with absolutely nothing in mind. What did one get Rosa Sanchez? She was the most amazing woman Keith knew; he wasn't sure any gift could ever come close to being worthy. Rosa deserved everything - and what did Keith have? A couple twenty dollar bills lingering between the seams of his wallet.
It wasn't until Sophia and Lance walked aimlessly through the Walmart book section that Keith found it. He'd just found a large book on constellations for Cleo, and just as he set the shiny hardback into the cart, he saw it.
It was small, a simple paperback novel with a yellow cover. There was a thirty percent off sticker glued to it's left corner, covering half of the title. Except, Keith didn't need to know the title - he would know that book anywhere.
The novel was Keith's favorite book of all time: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. It had been Keith's best friend; a piece of American literature he'd been forced to read in middle school. At first Keith hadn't thought anything of it- up until he was two chapters in. After that he was hooked, something that turned into more than just a school assignment. It became his everything, his companion. When he was sad or lonely (a feeling that was never foreign) he'd read it, stroking the pages like a child clinging to their mother. It brought him comfort during times when no one else could. He'd kept the school copy, never daring to part with it. The book had become tattered with use, filled with notes and tear stains that Keith would be proud to call his own.
He lost it in a move between foster houses. He'd cried for hours.
The novel wasn't something your typical thirteen year old boy might enjoy. It was a simple book; the story of a young, motherless girl who'd ran away, all to find herself falling into the arms of three single women in South Carolina. It was through this story that the main character, Lily, learned about motherhood - the effects it can have, the importance it carries, the strength that women hold. These were lessons Keith would've never learned on his own, and it was through these lessons that Keith felt it - he felt loved.
Keith didn't believe in God. But if that book was the bible? Hell, he just might.
"This," Keith whispered, gripping onto the book with shaking hands. "This is what I'm getting for Rosa."
Sophia raised an eyebrow, observing the book's cover in question. "Are you sure?"
Keith nodded, his jaw set. "I'm positive."
It wasn't that he thought the book was a good idea. No, Keith knew the book was a good idea. Rosa was the first woman that had come into Keith's life and done more than just feed him. She'd made an impact, she'd made him feel loved. Rosa triggered a feeling in Keith that warmed the bottom of his belly and soared to the tips of his hair. It was a feeling that made Keith feel so entirely valid, like he was wanted, and that there were parts of him to be valued.
There was only one other thing that ever made Keith feel that way - and it was that book, the one sitting on the Walmart shelf with the thirty percent off sticker.
Day 9
Christmas Eve Day
2:52 P.M.
A mixtape.
Keith made Lance a bloody mixtape - in CD form no less. So more like a playlist, but whatever.
It was terrible; ten songs compiled, arranged, and burned onto a CD in less than one hour. After his escape to Walmart Keith had snuck back up the stairs and snatched his laptop, all to hide beneath the dresses of Cleo's bedroom closet. He typed away at that thing; downloading, researching, softly banging his head against the closet wall - all to finish with a crappy excuse for a gift.
Sophia assured him Lance would love it, but Keith was still unsure.
"You should give it to him tonight," Cleo offered when Keith emerged from the closet. She sat on the edge of her bed with a brush running through her hair, the dark locks falling down past her shoulder blades.
"I'm debating not giving it at all," Keith cried desperately, laying his now closed laptop on the bed. "I had the hardest time finding songs. And it's such? A meme?"
Cleo ignored that last part. "Which ones did you use?"
Keith tossed her the tape and sighed, falling to the floor and resting his head against the bed. Cleo read over the songs, all sprawled in messy handwriting straight onto the CD. He'd used a sharpie and hoped for the best.
"These are-"
"Stupid?" Keith muttered, feeling defeated. "I know."
Cleo rolled her eyes and handed him the CD back. "I was gonna say perfect, you dipshit."
Keith turned to her with wide eyes and eyebrows raised. "What? Fifty percent of the songs on there aren't even from this century."
"That may be true, but you like those songs. And the other fifty percent? Those are songs Lance is into. It's a perfect combo, so drop it. Okay?"
He didn't really believe her. "But-"
Cleo raised her eyebrows. "Drop. It."
Keith groaned, though he did as he was told and finished the subject. Instead he held the CD in his hands, twirling it between his fingers.
"Do you think he'll like it?"
"Of course he'll like it, Keith. Don't doubt yourself."
"No I mean-" Keith stood up from the floor so he could face her, his expression evidently worried. "What if I cross a line with this? We aren't actually dating, you know that."
"So?"
" So what I'm saying is just that. We aren't dating. Friends don't give each other mixtapes - especially with songs like these."
Cleo was quiet, observing Keith with her blue eyes - ones not weren't far different from the ones on Lance's face. "Then maybe this is the perfect opportunity to tell him how you feel."
Keith gaped. "Tonight?"
She nodded. "Dinner starts around six. You can steal Lance away sometime before then."
Keith wanted to argue against that - he really did. Cleo never gave him much time to respond though, instead escaping from the bedroom and off to finish helping her family make dinner. He was left silent, all to stand alone with his hand clasped around a plastic CD case.
Was he going to do it? Possibly. The thought crossed Keith's mind, only to turn around and cross back all over again.
He wanted to tell Lance, that was something Keith couldn't lie about. At the pit of Keith's stomach, he knew that telling Lance had more than a thousand ways to go wrong. Cleo was right though - he wasn't going to have another option like this.
Swallowing down his pride, Keith made a decision. He took one last look at the CD mixtape in his hand, rubbing his thumb along the edges of the plastic.
Yes. He was going to tell Lance, and he going to do more than just reveal his feelings. He was going to tell Lance everything.
Day 9
Christmas Eve Day
3:10 P.M.
Keith found Lance behind a kitchen counter, his arms covered in white flour all the way to his elbows. The boy looked distraught, white flour decorating the skin between his nose and cheek.
Lance looked up from the mess he'd made only to flash Keith a toothy grin, finally noticing the bashful boy. "There you are! I was wondering where'd you'd gone. Here, you can help me make the-"
"Actually," Keith stammered, holding tightly to the plastic CD case. He'd taken so long to wrap the damn thing, and yet it still looked ridiculous. He held it behind his back, hoping Lance wouldn't notice. "I was wondering if you could take a quick break?"
"Why? Is something wrong?"
Keith shook his head quickly, making his dark bangs shift. He moved a hand to tuck them behind his ear, already feeling the warmth in his cheeks. " No, I just wanted to talk to you and-"
Both boys never noticed Rosa re-enter the kitchen, a flour covered apron wrapped around her round body.
"Keith! I haven't seen you all day!"
"Sorry," Keith mumbled, lowered his head bashfully. "I was out buying last minute christmas gifts."
Both Rosa and Lance's eyes brightened at that, their expressions almost identical. "Oh Keith," Rosa began, wiping her hands on a rag. "You didn't have to buy anything for anyone." The woman was so warm, reaching out to grab Keith's fingers in a motherly display of affection. In a swift attempt to hide the mixtape, Keith stuffed the plastic case into the back seam of his jeans.
"Yeah, Keith," Lance began, his eyes wide in a rare look Keith didn't recognise. "You didn't have to do that."
But he did. Besides the plastic case and pack of CDs for Lance's mixtape, Keith's other gifts were more than just important, more than just presents for a simple family he'd visited on break - they were for a family that Keith loved.
Keith couldn't believe it either. Love? Him? That had never happened before.
A humble grin lit up Keith's skin. "It's alright," He confirmed, holding tightly to Rosa's hands. "I don't mind buying a few presents. I wanted to buy them."
"If you say so," Rosa tutted, giving Keith's palm one more squeeze before letting go. She turned back to the kitchen and softly pushed Lance out of the way, digging her hands into the flour and dough.
"Ma!" Lance cried, frowning as she took his place. "I was doing that!"
She gave her son a firm look, lips pulled into a tight line. "Lance, this is my way of kicking you from the kitchen. Go hang out with Keith- he looks lonely."
"But-"
"I've got it! It's okay, dinner is almost finished anyway. Go have fun." She smiled, giving her son a soft, flour covered pat to the cheek. Lance squirmed like a child, wiping at the flour handprint in annoyance.
Once Lance had washed the flour from his arms as best he could, the two boys retreated from the kitchen. As they moved down the hallway, Keith couldn't help but overhear voices behind the closed door of the guest room (or, as Keith now knew it, Sophia's old room.)
"...I am not comfortable with that boy in this house!"
"Mother, listen. Keith is a welcomed guest in our home, and Rosa and I asked you rather politely to tolerate anything and everything you didn't like."
The next words were cold, harsh. "Yes, I know Jaime, and for your sake I'm being polite. But my patience is running thin! If you would let me just…"
Keith couldn't hear the rest, purposefully maneuvering out of the hallway and towards the backdoor. He didn't want to hear what Lance's Abuela had to say, nor did he want a repeat of their experience at the Sanchez store.
It was a clear day, though soft wind trailed across the back field, promising a future windstorm. Lance plopped down in the tall grass, stretching his legs out against the course weeds.
"So," He began, resting on his elbows. "What did you want to talk about?"
Keith bit his lip, sitting up straight with his legs crossed beneath him. Not daring to think twice, Keith reached into the back of his jeans. His hand reemerged with the mixtape in hand, a thick letter taped to the back.
"I have your christmas present."
This seemed to catch Lance's attention, removing his gaze from the rolling fields and over to the wrapped mixtape.
Keith expected him to say something; to snort or to smile or to something. Instead he swallowed, the movement obvious with sweat rolling down his throat.
"Christmas is tomorrow," He muttered, sitting up straighter. "Why now?"
"I guess," Keith began, worry clouding his vision. "I guess I wanted to give it without prying eyes?"
Lance chuckled, the obvious apprehension he'd worn just seconds earlier now gone. "You say that like you're uncertain."
Keith bit his lip. "Well, I sort of am."
Lance finally reached for the present. He held it in his hand to inspect the paper, turning it over in his palm. "You shouldn't be," Lance assured him, finally moving his fingers to tear at the attached letter seal.
"Wait-" Keith started, voice sharp. "Don't, er, don't read the letter in front of me."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Keith hugged a knee to his chest, letting the pressure against his heart calm it's excessive beating. He refused to say a word, trepidation feasting on any breath he could've used to speak.
"Why?" Lance repeated his question, the second time was far more sensitive.
Keith heaved a breath. "It's embarrassing," He muttered, the words squeezed from his chest.
"It can't be that bad-"
He stopped, sentence halting midway. Lance must've recognised the look on Keith's face for what it truly was; fear. The letter was more than just a revelation of how Keith felt. The words inside were an explanation; his thoughts, his ideas. It was a peek into what made Keith, well, Keith. He didn't want to be present for a disclosure like that.
"Okay. I'll read it later." Lance folded the letter and set it to his left in the grass. "Anyway, let's look at the real gift." He grinned, ripping off the wrapping paper Keith had spent all of twenty minutes on.
The paper fell away, all to reveal Keith's ridiculous, rather romantic mixtape.
"I know it's really cheesy-" Keith began, words slipping from his mouth one after the other. He spoke so quickly that Lance had a hard time keeping up; Keith's apprehension was too much. "-but I needed a good gift for you. I know you like memes and giving your crush a mixtape is literally such a stale meme thing to do but I don't know, I did it anyway? A lot of the songs are from the seventies and eighties but I included some of your favorites which means there's Beyonce and Kesha which I know you love-"
He was stopped by Lance's hand, a finger pressed against Keith's lips to shush him.
"Wait," Lance began, slowly removing his hand. "Did you just say 'crush'?"
If Keith was a realistic person, he would've thought before responding. But was Keith a realistic person? The answer to that question is subjective, as Keith is a boy in love, and boys in love are never realistic.
So yes, Keith did just say 'crush', and yes, he hadn't meant to. However, with the way the boys were looking at each other one might've thought Keith just pleaded murder - not his gay crush revelation.
"I, uh, I-" Keith stuttered, looking at anywhere other than Lance's face. "Yes. I did."
It was silent - the painful kind. The two boys didn't dare speak first; the only noise was the distant sounds of a radio playing in Rosa's kitchen.
"How long?"
Lance's words were out of the blue, completely devoid of surprise or emotion. At least, devoid of the emotion Keith had wanted.
" How long?!" Keith asked in disbelief. "Jesus, you find out your fake boyfriend has the hots for you and you ask how long?"
"Well, obviously," Lance began, color still gone from his face. "That's a normal question to ask when someone says they like you."
Keith huffed, turning his head away as to hide the red that filled his cheeks. He was embarrassed and didn't know how to react - that much was obvious. "Fine." He paused. "A while."
" A while?!"
"Yes," Keith stated, his voice annoyed. "A while."
"You have to be more specific than that."
"I don't know? From the beginning of this trip, maybe?"
Lance deadpanned, shifting to sit up taller. "That was, what, five days ago?"
Keith paused, gripping tightly to the ends of his sweatshirt. This wasn't what he wanted, this isn't what he'd planned.
"Nine."
Lance blinked.
"What?"
"Nine," Keith repeated, violently praying that their conversation could end. "This trip started nine days ago."
Lance gulped, eyes large, blue, and bug-eyed. "So you've had a crush on me for nine days?"
The sentence was more like a statement than a question, as if Lance needed to say it out loud in order to process it himself. It wasn't that Lance had outright denied him. There had been no verbal proof of whether or not Lance reciprocated Keith's feelings. However, it felt implied that Lance didn't reciprocate. Keith felt denied, as if Lance had excused the declaration, as if Lance didn't know how to react. Lance was hard to read, especially when he knew someone was watching him. That's what Keith had tried to do - watch him. Watch for the signs, watch for something in Lance's eyes that could calm his worries. So far nothing was working; if anything, Lance's lack of opinion only made Keith's concerns turn sour.
"Yeah," Keith answered, looking away. The two boys didn't dare make eye contact. Both were too awkward to look each other in the eyes, and too prideful to fix it. It was tense, the air between them layered with so many underlying emotions that neither had the decency nor intelligence to recognise it.
Keith tried his hardest to show no emotion. Showing any felt like a weakness.
Lance again spoke first, though it did nothing to ease the tension. "Is nine days even enough time? To, you know, get a crush?"
Keith threw Lance a brutal eye, his lips chapped and dry.
"Should it matter?"
Lance rubbed at his lip again, a sign that he wasn't sure what sort of emotions to feel. "No, I guess not."
Keith dug his fingers into the dry weeds, plucking strands from the dirt and throwing them at nothing. "So," He mumbled, focusing on the bugs that crawled over his knees.
"So," Lance echoed him, looking down at the mixtape. He turned it around over and over, feeling the ridges of the plastic dig into his skin. "You like me."
"That was established."
Keith wanted to throw up. Maybe if he did then the demons would go away, the ones hiding at the pit of his stomach. They liked to churn and gurgle with each passing moment, each one just waiting, hiding. They were Keith's anxiety, the ones that he'd had since birth.
"Keith-" Lance began, finally setting the CD down on the grass beside him. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm sort of scared. Yeah, scared, I guess you could call it that. It's a weird feeling, and I can't explain it. I guess it's just everything I'm dealing with right now. My Dad, my sister, school. It's a lot for me to handle."
Keith nodded, never removing his gaze from the grass. It was holding him down, the dry, dead strands wrapped around Keith's fingers as he tugged them from the earth.
"I understand."
"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like-"
"I understand."
Lance nodded, his face solemn. Keith was expressionless, and that scared Lance more than anything.
How were they supposed to go on after this?
Lance stood up from the grass, mixtape and letter in hand. He stood for a moment, staring down at Keith's bowed head. He debated reaching out, laying his hand on Keith's shoulder, something, anything.
Instead he sucked in a breath and turned around, his back to Keith like a coward. Lance felt hollow, and he didn't doubt Keith felt the same way.
He took a few steps towards the house before Keith muttered something quietly, his voice just at the brink of a whisper. It made Lance's heart break a little, but the feeling was something he tried to ignore.
"You can throw away the letter."
Lance bit his lip, hard enough that he hoped it drew blood.
Once inside Lance did as he'd been told, tossing the letter into a trashcan by the fridge halfheartedly. He didn't discard the mixtape though, instead holding it tightly until he feared it might crack.
Rosa looked up from her dinner preparations when Lance entered the kitchen. Her cheeks were rosy, up until the point she saw Lance's expression.
"You alright, mijo? You look like you've seen a ghost."
As always, Lance put up his fake smile. Rosa didn't believe it for a second, and still, neither did he.
"I'm fine Mamá. Just a little tired is all."
Day 9
Christmas Eve Day
6:09 P.M.
(Warning: Triggering Homophobia)
Dinner was supposed to be perfect.
When Keith first imagined Christmas dinner, what he visualized was something chaotic, something delightful, an event that everyone could enjoy. It held to his expectations, it was beautiful and vibrant, smells of different foods flooding everyone's senses and rumbling their tummies.
The Sanchez dining table had been extended to fit five more people. Smaller tables had been set up in the living room for the younger children, each one lined with a colorful tablecloth. Food decorated the dining table's wood surface; all adorned with red flowers and colorful tableware to go around. Jaime had set up the kitchen's corner radio to play christmas songs at low volume, and just the soft hum of music was enough to keep a steady, amiable mood throughout the house. The christmas dinner display had set the night up to be full of laughter and giggles - everything it was supposed to be.
It definitely started out that way. But did it end that way?
That was the question.
Not only were Lance and Keith dealing with their problems, but it seemed Abuela and Jaime were as well. Keith had noticed them bickering again in another room before dinner, the same conversation still plaguing their relationship. Everyone could see the tension between mother and son, even if It had, strangely enough, completely disappeared when dinner began. Keith wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Keith, tell me about your trip here!"
The boy was distracted, eyes staring down at his fork. It lingered across his food, leaving the homemade tamale alone on the plate.
"Keith," Danny said, nudging his arm and pointing over to Aunt Cassie.
"Oh?" Keith looked up from his plate, it obvious his head was in other places. "Sorry. What was the question?"
"Your trip. I hear you came down with Lance from Oregon?"
Keith nodded. Despite only having a few of the table guest's eyes on him, Keith felt rather put on the spot.
"Yeah. We met there."
"How'd you meet?"
Keith inwardly groaned, having already gone through the same conversation just a few nights prior. Thankfully Lance answered for him, describing in great detail their roommate situation. He was rather serious, Keith noted. It was something he wasn't used to - seeing Lance Sanchez devoid of his usual wicked look.
As Lance rambled on Keith let his mind wander, again toying with his dinner. He trailed his fork over the piles of food that decorated his plate, never eating anything despite the grumble of his stomach.
Lance. It was Lance on his mind. He'd denied Keith, claimed it was over the stress of family. It wasn't personal, the rejection was
"So, Keith," a voice said, awakening him from his thoughts. "Why'd you agree to come down and join our lovely family?"
Keith looked up sharply, almost dropping his fork to the table, and he instantly felt uneasy.
It was Abuela.
Her voice was evenly pitched and loud. He didn't like it, and having such a tight, pompous woman speak to him with her nose in the air was proving to be intolerable. She'd never once spoken to Keith of her own accord before. They'd never had a real conversation, never once had she attempted to ask questions.
What made now any different?
"Excuse me?" He mumbled, setting down his fork.
She repeated her question bluntly, a second time far more impatient. "Why'd you come here?"
"Lance invited me," Keith fumbled, feeling sheepish under her gaze. "We'd been dating for a while - we only felt it was right that I meet the family."
She smiled. It was sweet - if you considered a tightly pulled, obviously forced smile on a seventy year old woman to be 'sweet'.
"I thought it was because you had nowhere else to go to for christmas?"
Keith's eyes widened in surprise.
What was Abuela playing at? Why was she asking these questions? She was more forward than he'd anticipated. Rosa and Jaime told her he was an orphan, he'd assumed that much. But touching on the orphan subject? That was one thing, but doing so publicly? And at the dinner table no less? That was a low call, especially for a woman as respectable as Lance's Abuela. Keith wasn't sure what she was doing, but so far it didn't appear anywhere near good.
He took a bite of food, mostly so he'd have time to think. Once the burning tamale slipped down his throat he spoke.
"You're right." Keith set down his fork casually. "I'm a foster kid. Lance offered to let me stay for Christmas. It's been a nice change for sure."
There was a pause between the two of them. Keith kept his face calm and contained, but Lance he wasn't so sure could do the same- the boy was holding his breath.
"We've loved having Keith here," Rosa interrupted, racing to fill the gap. "He's been a wonderful addition to the household."
Abuela never missed a beat.
"Wonderful for the household? Or wonderful for Lance?" She took a small bite of tamale, the look on her face oozing with something Keith couldn't quite place. Sarcasm? Anger? Passive Aggression? All three?
"I'd say Keith has been more than wonderful for everyone ." Rosa smiled, and it was forced, feigned, all terribly so. Keith couldn't name a single time ever seeing Rosa look so fake. Keith knew that Rosa didn't like her mother-in-law, and it was obvious even now that she didn't approve of Abuela's prying questions.
"I'm not sure about everyone ." Abuela's words were devilish- how she could speak so calmly and appear so terrifying was beyond Keith.
Then, as if he thought his words could come to the rescue, Jaime spoke. He didn't even look up from his food.
"Mother? Would you please just keep your observations to yourself? We are trying to have a peaceful dinner."
Keith chewed lightly, eyes shifting between Abuela and her son.
What was he missing?
"My observations are important, Jaime. You can't ignore them."
Something was going on - was it the fight Jaime and Abuela had been disagreeing over just a half hour earlier? Keith didn't know much context of their disagreement, though one thing could be certain; Keith was a source of that dissent. How much of a role he played was unsure, but he had his hunches.
One thing Keith seemed to gather was that Abuela was against Keith being in the home. The first night he'd met her, Abuela had been composed and kind - in her own strange, barely tolerable way. However, the more time went on, the more Keith discovered that Abuela was only using that as a cover. She was disappointed in Keith's presence- and when Abuela didn't agree with something? Then it was automatically deemed wrong.
A second thing Keith gathered was that Jaime - though still stressed and confused - was trying beyond a doubt to stand at Lance's side. Even if Lance himself didn't recognise it.
"Mother," Jaime repeated. Laying down a fork. "Please stop."
It was then that a switch had flipped.
One moment everyone was sitting quietly - Benji scarfing down food, the cousins conversing with Cleo at the corner of the table - and the next moment? Abuela was slamming her palm against the table.
"I have had enough. I have tried, Jaime, I have tried to be polite. I have done as you asked. I was nice to Keith. I tolerated Lance's lifestyle choice , but enough is enough."
Other dinner members turned their heads towards the noise, even the children stopped playing, each person no longer distracted with their own conversations. All eyes were on Abuela, and Keith could feel something coming that he knew deep inside would never end well.
"Stop this," Jaime forced out. "Now."
"Stop?" Abuela scowled. "I will not."
"This," Jaime began, motioning around the table. "I won't have it, this passive aggressive, snide way of fixing the things you don't like."
"I am doing nothing wrong! I am merely trying my hardest to do what's right."
"Mother, can we move this into the other room?" The words were pushed through grit teeth, his tone something Keith was sure he only used in the most dire of circumstances. Keith could only wonder if he used the same tone with his own children.
Abuela closed her fingers together on the table, pushing her plate away politely.
"Whatever you have to say can be said in front of my other children." She motioned to Aunt Cassie and Uncle Miguel, both of whom sheepishly looked away.
"What about the others?" Jaime exclaimed, turning and pointing to the rest of the audience; Diego and Aria, two cousins who sat at the end of the table with wide eyes and closed mouths, the children in the conjoined room, the rest of Jaime's children. Danny looked beyond uncomfortable, and Rachel obviously wasn't sure what to think. Sophia just looked in pain.
"They don't deserve this," He continued. "It is Noche Buena - I will not have it ruined with your disrespectful grudge towards my son and his-" Jaime paused, voice wavering, and Keith wondered if he'd even say it. He'd never said it before, never openly acknowledged it. He'd dug himself into a hole, there was no way out now.
"-Boyfriend. His boyfriend."
Keith only celebrated for a second, because then it all came crashing down.
Abuela had started it all. She'd been angry from the very beginning, her fury lingering from the fight between mother and son. Now she was getting it out, letting off steam, unloading the pressure - all by torturing Keith. Keith was her target. And Jaime? Jaime was just as angry as his mother was, but now he was trying to redeem himself. He'd made a mistake in the grocery store all those days ago, and this was his attempt at fixing it.
It wasn't working.
"Why are you defending me?"
Lance had spoken.
Keith looked at Lance for the first time since the meal had started. His face was red, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a tight line. His emotions were hard to read - and it wasn't because he lacked any, no, it was because there was too much.
"Why are you defending me," Lance repeated, louder this time. His voice boomed across the dining room and into the kitchen like an echo. "Youobviously didn't want to before."
"Lance," Rosa warned. "Don't add to this. Your father made his apology for the things he'd said."
"Okay, yes. But it's obvious he's still struggling! What is so bad about me being bisexual?""
Jaime swallowed, "I don't want to talk about that right now, okay? This is Christmas dinner, Lance. If you'd just-"
Abuela interrupted immediately. "Jaime, don't be ridiculous. I know you're struggling just as much as I am. Don't lie to your son, he doesn't deserve it."
And then Lance was turning his gaze on Abuela, voice verbally on the edge of cracking. "I don't deserve it? Of course I don't! I don't deserve you or my father to be so against-"
"Lance-" Sophia began, reaching her hand out towards her brother. She'd made the mistake of joining the conversation. "Maybe you should-"
"Oh shut up , Sophia. You're just as bad, so stay out of it."
There was a dramatic gasp from Abuela's side of the table, but it was too late.
"How dare you speak to Sophia that way!"
Lance was in dismay. "How dare I?" He countered this towards his grandmother, the words practically spat from his lips. His voice had gotten louder, just as Abuela's had. "How dare you. You've bullied Keith, disrespected me, and now you defend her? The grandchild who ran away?"
Abuela was infuriated. "I forbid you from treating her that way. Sophia has gone through terrible things and doesn't deserve her own brother, her own family, to treat her so disrespectfully."
"You forbid me?" Lance scoffed, suddenly standing up from the table. "I am just as important as Sophia! I've gone through just as much crap! I may like men, but that doesn't make me a mistake. It's a part of who I am!"
"Lance, maybe you shouldn't-"
"NO! I'm tired, tired of all this bullshit! Sophia abandoned me - if you, I don't know, forgot that specific detail. She abandoned all of us! She was gone for everything ; Benji's chemo, me coming out, Cleo's science fairs, Josie's growing up - and for what? To come back home and automatically be accepted by Abuela? Ever since I came out all I've been is a disappointment!"
It was then that Abuela slapped her palm against the wood of the table. It made Keith jump in his seat, forcing all eyes on the tall, thin woman.
" You will close your mouth boy."
Keith wasn't sure what he'd expected. It had been a recipe for disaster, and the family had more than enough ingredients.
Keith sat still, his body nearly frozen to the core.
Everything ached. This family was falling apart, this family that he loved, and he couldn't seem to remember who's fault it was anymore. It was like a hammer had been brought to the face of a stone sculpture - pieces all flying.
Stop. Please. Stop.
The words repeated themselves in Keith's head, a broken record player he didn't know how to fix. He wanted so badly to say them, to say the words. He couldn't - his mouth was shut tight, string sewn through the skin.
Lance folded his arms. "Let's just get it all out there, yeah? Cards on the table."
"Alright then," Said Abuela. "Tell me how my grandson really feels."
"How really feel?" Lance bellowed this, his voice shaking. "I hate Sophia, and right now? I hate you!" Lance jabbed a finger in Abuela's direction. "I hate that Sophia is your favorite, and I hate that my romantic attraction has become an issue for you. It's not your life, Abuela!"
Cleo's voice shook, suddenly intruding in a place she shouldn't be. "Lance, please just stop -"
"Don't even get into this, Cleo." It was Danny who muttered the words, his voice suddenly a part of all the bickering.
"I know," Cleo cried, her eyes shifting between Lance and Daniel. "But I just think that maybe if Lance had left Sophia, Dad and Abuela alone then-"
"Wait, now you're defending Sophia too?" Daniel just didn't know when to stop, and obviously? Neither did his family.
"And you aren't?" Cleo stared at her brother, shock engulfing her face. "I thought you were better than this, Daniel."
Stop it. Stop it.
Daniel set his jaw. "Okay, but maybe Lance is right on this? Lance is right. He shouldn't be treated differently for his sexuality."
"Daniel," Rachel pleaded, hiking Isabella up on her lap. "Maybe you shouldn't interfere."
"Rachel, I know you want what's best, but right now I just want-"
Cleo's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. "I'm just trying to make peace ! And I'm not saying Lance shouldn't be treated differently, no! I'm just angry that you're defending his unnecessary anger!"
"I'm not really defending him, just defending the fact that he shouldn't be treated this way!"
Stop.
Cleo threw herself from the table, almost tipping her chair over in the process. "I'm not saying that Lance should be treated badly! I love Lance, you know that. I've always supported him and I've always agreed with who he was. But what I'm saying is that Lance is making this a bigger problem than it should be! "
"But he's right!" Daniel too had stood from the table, almost shaking his chair to the floor. "Abuela is playing favorites - she favors Sophia over him. I forgave Sophia, but it's still wrong! Of Abuela!
"Stop this," Sophia cried, tears pouring down her cheeks. "I don't want to be a part of this. I don't want you all fighting over whether or not Lance and I are more favored! We are both just as important."
Please stop this.
Lance growled, the noise rumbling in his throat. "Oh, back off. You're just part of the problem."
"Please," Rosa begged, tears staining the bottom of her eyelids. "Can we just finish this? These issues are real and valid, but they don't need to be said when you all are so angry. Can't we talk about this like rational people - when the emotion has died down?"
Stop.
"No," Lance spat. "I want to know what Cleo really has to say."
"What I have to say?" Cleo scoffed. "You don't care about that, you're just angry."
"Of course I'm angry! You're defending Sophia and Abuela!"
Stop.
"Yes, Sophia, but not Abuela! Sophia made a mistake, but have you ever gotten it through your thick ass head that maybe she's better than that? There's more to her than this 'evil sister' character you've envisioned her as! She's worked so hard to get where she is today and yet you just-"
Noise.
"Cleo, I swear to god-"
So much noise.
These were people Keith cared about. Watching them throw insults left and right was an experience Keith wasn't accustomed to, and it showed no sign of stopping. A part of Keith knew that Cleo was right. Her side of the argument was triggered by her natural urge to fix things; she was the peacemaker. She had too much of Rosa in her, too much of that genuine care, too much of that urge to be the arbitrator. Cleo had once said it herself, said that Rosa's need to make people happy got in the way of the big picture.
Then, Daniel? The eldest son had chosen sides - which was never a good thing.
Hadn't their car ride done anything? What happened to the songs they sang, the games they played in the tree forest? What happened to feeling like everything could be okay? Why had the grudge suddenly reemerged?
" LANCE."
Keith spoke, and his tongue felt like fire. It burned, searing the edges of his vocal cords.
Lance didn't turn at the sound of his name, and Keith gripped the boy's hand in an attempt to reach him. Lance was in too deep, but he hadn't heard. Lance was too far gone, he was too angry, too furious.
"LANCE, STOP!"
Keith never remembered standing up, nor did he remember ever shouting. It had somehow grabbed everyone else's attention - Cleo stopped intruding, Daniel stopped defending. Lance's hand was hot in Keith's palm, covered in sweat and violently shaking.
"Lance, you need to calm down; I need you to rethink. You need to sort through what's going on. You're shaking."
In hindsight, Keith should've walked away. He should've let the family deal with their own problems. He should've never interfered. Except, deep beneath all those vicious words and the sharp language? Keith was a part of the problem.
"Keith, get out. You're not a part of this. This isn't your family, so can you just back off."
"Lance-" Keith tried again, lip quivering. He tried to ignore the malice in Lance's voice.
"This isn't your vacation, this isn't your fight to be a part of."
Keith held even tighter to Lance's hand, squeezing it so tightly he thought it might crack. People were staring, they'd turned, their eyes on the two boys as if glued.
"Lance, please-"
Lance wrenched his hand from Keith's grasp. "Will you STOP? You're not even my boyfriend! So stop acting like one. "
Silence.
The words. They weren't a secret anymore. The truth? It was out.
The two boys had planned from the very beginning to never tell. They'd made a promise, a pact, one that sealed a deal. This deal? No one was to know their true relationship. The boys weren't lovers. And, with the way Lance was acting? Keith was positive they never could be.
You're not even my boyfriend, so stop acting like one.
Everyone was silent, pins could drop, dust could be heard as it fell. The only sound was the radio - a factor everyone had forgotten about. Jingle bells played at low volume, and Keith decided he could never listen to that song the same way again.
It hurt, and Keith could feel tears begin to fall. It hurt that Lance had broken their promise. Now Keith was the liar, the fake. What would the family think of him now?
"I don't need you holding my hand." Lance spoke on.
They were all staring. Everyone was there, everyone was watching. Eyes big and small, belonging to old and the young - all were on them.
"I don't have feelings for you-"
Keith didn't want them looking, he wanted them gone, away before Lance said something he'd regret.
"I don't need you babying me-"
Not that he'd already done that. He ruined everything. Everything.
"And I don't care about you, Keith."
Images of a boy Keith once knew clouded his vision. He was so happy, smiling, laughing. Then? The images were replaced. Replaced with a new boy, a taller boy, a man so similar, but so different. But that smile, it was that smile, the same one. Why did they have the same face? Crooked grin, tilted up to heaven on one side and down to hell on the other.
Who was he?
Where had he gone?
Day 10
Sunday, December 25th
Christmas Day
12:00 A.M.
Group Chat: Lance is kinkier than Shiro
Members: Firelord, choke Me Daddy, President Taquito, Pidgeon, Hunky Munky, princess fukboi killer
12:00 A.M.
Hunk Munky (Hunk Maika'i) Said:
Merry christmas ya filthy animals!
I hope you all had a good christmas Eve!
Merry Christmas!
Day 9
Saturday, December 24th
Christmas Eve Day
7:01 P.M.
Keith left.
He hadn't bothered to grab his suitcase, or his wallet, or his shoes by the door. He simply snatched a set of random keys from the hook and bolted.
The table had been still; watching him. It was Benji who moved first.
"I hate all of you," He'd threatened, all before pushing himself from the table, making his chair clatter to the floor. "You managed to fuck up Christmas."
Benji raced after Keith - he was the only one who did. Everyone else was immovable with shock, simply staring as Keith slammed the front door behind him. It was windy outside. Violently so, the weather promising enough strength to battle human bodies and throw down grandfather trees.
"Keith!" Benji cried, sprinting with skinny legs and socked feet across the front lawn. "Keith, stop!"
The boy hadn't heard him, instead finding the vehicle match to his stolen car keys and hopping in. It was Daniel and Rachel's minivan - there was a stick figure family plastered to the trunk window. Tears overflowed down Keith's cheeks; he continued to let them fall. He was unsure of the plan - was there even a plan in the first place? All Keith knew was that he needed to get away, that running and hiding was the only option. How far he'd drive and how far he'd flee was uncertain - maybe it relied on the level of gas in Daniel's tank.
No matter what the circumstances, there was only one thing Keith was positive about.
He was never going back.
Day 9
7:03 P.M.
Rosa had never been one to be infuriated. Disappointed, yes. A little bit angry? Of course. She could become irritated just like any other mother. This simple fact made her quite terrifying in the Sanchez home; all the children knew what she was capable of.
The 2016 Christmas Eve night was to - from this point on - be further known as legendary. It wasn't for the fight that broke out or the dramatics that occurred, no. It was because Rosa Sanchez - a woman always known to be careful with the way she treated others - had done the unthinkable.
She'd been the first to move after Benji. She'd stood up from the table and turned to Abuela, the wrinkle line of her face pulled tight with anger.
"You may leave."
Abuela had been appalled; Rosa rebelling had never been a part of her agenda.
"Excuse me?"
"You may leave - as in leave my home."
Abuela blinked once, then twice, all before letting her mouth drop open. "You can't ask that of me!"
"I can," Rosa began, moving out from her chair. "And I will. I'll be paying for your flight home. You will be invited back only on the terms that you can treat my son with respect."
"But, I am your family!"
"Family may be family, but that doesn't excuse you from being a bitch."
Abuela's mouth dropped at that - everyone's did. Even Jaime, who rather agreed with Rosa's choice to kick Abuela from the home, moved in surprise.
"E-Excuse me?"
Abuela didn't look hurt or sensitive over Rosa's choice of words; no, she looked angry. Annoyed. Infuriated.
Rosa though, Rosa was even more so.
"Yes. I will not tolerate my child, or my child's-" She stopped having remembered the revelation of just moments earlier. For that second of silence Rosa seemed to finally register that Keith wasn't her son's boyfriend, and that he hadn't been telling the truth.
This confused Rosa, as it also confused Cleo when she first discovered days earlier. Keith and Lance had looked so in love, so completely devoted to each other. This had done more than make the lie believable - it made the lie enjoyable. Rosa had reveled seeing her son so happy, especially after all he'd gone through. Rosa wasn't the only one either to think this - Cleo, Daniel, Rachel, even Jaime. They could all agree with her.
It broke Rosa's heart, now finally able to separate the lie from the fact.
"Or my child's friend," Rosa finally stated, describing the obvious. "So you will leave. I'm sorry that your Christmas was ruined, but I find that to be something you did to yourself."
Abuela wanted to talk back - she really did. She continued to open and close her mouth, each time ready to say something, only to rethink it all over again. Finally, she slammed her fists against the table, all before moving from her seat and towards her cane. "Fine! I will not dawdle any longer." She paused, turning to give her son one final glare. "I hope you're happy Jaime. I hope you're proud ."
And with that she was gone, retreated to her guest room to pack up her things, leaving the family to sit still in the dining room.
"We're going after Keith," Rosa stated after moments of quiet, moving to retrieve her dinner plate. "But first - you will all clean up dinner. You will forgive each other, you will drop the grudges. And Lance?" She turned, any sign of motherly love now gone. It was replaced with something Lance never enjoyed: the distress of a mother disappointed.
"You will fix this thing you have with Sophia. Now."
Day 9
7:11 P.M.
Against Lance's pleas, Rosa ended up pushing both Sophia and Lance into her bedroom, claiming that their already instigated punishment would triple if either left the bedroom unhappy. She was determined to have them fix this grudge Lance held, and she wanted it happening now.
Once the door to the bedroom shut behind his mother, Lance immediately felt alone. He was sheepish, staring at the floor like a scolded child.
"I don't want to do this anymore than you do," Sophia whispered, gripping her hands tightly at her sides in fists. "But we're gonna have to do it. Sooner or later."
"I won't."
Sophia groaned, moving to sit on their parent's bed. "Well you have to. I know you hate me, so you can skip the dramatics."
It was pointless. Lance was still so angry, holding onto his grudge tight enough that he'd rather break an arm than let it go.
"I just," He began, still admiring the wooden floor underneath his socks. "I just hurt. It's a lot, all of it."
"I know."
"How do you though?"
Sophia sighed. "You're really going to ask that? I left my family. I made mistakes. You act as if didn't ever regret them, as if they never made me hurt too. They did."
Lance looked up from the floor, observing his older sister's face. It was wet, red and puffy, all from dinner. He'd never noticed.
"Then why did you take so long to come back?"
Sophia swallowed. "I'll tell you why. But you have to promise to listen."
Lance rubbed at his bottom lip, letting his nails dig into the fabric of his jeans.
He wanted to know, just as badly as any other family member might've. He wanted an explanation - he deserved one. Lance could bury his pride for just one moment, all to sit on that bed next to Sophia. He could just ignore that nagging voice in his head, he could pretend his grudge wasn't there. For a moment, just one single moment, he could try.
He took his place at the edge of the bed and sat a foot away, twirling the edge of his shirt in between his thumbs.
"Alright," He whispered, nodding his head. "I'll listen."
Sophia sucked in a breath, turning to look at her little brother. She was a face of remorse, regret, sorrow; the emotions poked at Lance's heart a little.
And then she began, revealing to her brother the same things she had practiced in front of Keith just that morning. Her words were sincere, her tale was profound, and even though she was nervous beyond reason, Lance could tell she knew what to say.
"I made mistakes," She whispered. "You know them, I know them. I'm not denying them, Lance. I thought about each one while I was gone - they almost tore me apart. But," She paused, contemplating if she should say it. "I don't want to talk about them, I've dwelled on these mistakes. Instead I want to talk about how I affected you. You didn't deserve to lose me, Lance. And for that I am eternally sorry."
Lance bit his lip even harder, trying his hardest to not respond. He wasn't sure if he should deny or accept the apology - so he let her continue.
"I wasn't ready to come back. I couldn't, and it wasn't because I was a coward. It was because if I did come back? Things wouldn't have ended well. I would fallen into an inescapable pit. Being out there, on my own, away from the safety of Mom and Dad? It saved me. I was forced to survive, and through that I learned how much I depended on our family. I'm not saying that depending on others is wrong - in fact, I encourage it. But there is often a time when you rely on someone too much, and when that happens you no longer learn how to protect yourself. I learned that, Lance. I learned that I am my own person, and that I am the only one in charge of my own destiny."
"That's cheesy as hell," Lance whispered, not realizing he'd actually made the comment out loud. It only made Sophia smile, and she nodded her head.
"It is, but it's true. I'm the only one in charge of my problems, my mistakes, my trials. I learned that I'm the only one who can face them. And then? And then I can move on, let them go. I had to learn this the hard way., but now I've figured it out, and I've grown because of it. I've got a job, I've got an apartment, I've got a car, and I'm getting a college degree."
Lance's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but comment immediately.
"You do?"
She nodded, and it was the grin she wore that said more than a thousand words to Lance.
She was proud of herself for it.
So this is what Abuela had meant. This is what Cleo had meant. This is what they were trying to explain to him; Sophia was different than Lance. The two of them had gone through so much, the amount of trial they each had was almost identical. Sophia with her daughter, Lance with Benji - the two of them had been dealt a great many cards to deal with.
The difference between the two, however, was this: Lance was still dealing. He was still rolling in that pain, he was still clutching tightly to it - even if it was time to let go. Sophia had let go, she had taken a good look at her mistakes, she'd seen them for what they were, and she'd moved on. Lance had not.
"That's why I'm back now. Alexi may have been ready to see her family, but I wasn't. I had to wait until the perfect time to come back. It wasn't a matter of Alexi, it was a matter of me and my emotions."
It wasn't until the tears began to fall that Lance recognised it. All he saw was a grown woman pouring out her heart, making her apology, everything so unfeigned that it only took a few minutes for Lance to make a decision.
He could forgive Sophia.
And this time it could be automatic. Forgiveness may be something that's earned, something worked for. Lance felt that with his father - he was still letting himself and his father take their time. Except, maybe that was something he needed to let go too.
Sophia, however, had already done more than enough to warrant that forgiveness. It was time for Lance to agree, it was time for Lance to give in.
"I'm proud of you, though," She said.
Lance looked up, staring at Sophia's quivering lip and shaking eyes. Why? Why was she proud of him? And how? How could she find it in herself to be proud? After all the shit he'd done?
Lance hadn't noticed the wetness of his eyes until it was too late - the tears had a funny way of appearing at the most inconvenient of times. Except, this wasn't inconvenient. This was the perfect time to cry.
"You came out of the closet." Sophia muttered. "It's a hard thing to do - and I'm more than sorry I wasn't there for it. If I had?" She paused, her voice hesitant. She was scared, but one look at Lance's tears and she knew it would be okay.
"If I'd been there, then maybe I could've come out too. I could've been a support for you. You wouldn't have been alone."
Lance blinked, suddenly letting his mouth open from the sudden surprise.
"You're, you're-"
"A bit gay? Yeah." She smiled, and Lance wanted to smile back.
So he did. It was bright, large, warm - and a complete astonishment. He couldn't help himself; he hugged her. It was sudden and tight, his arms squeezing the girl close to his chest. She squeaked at the sudden change, but she never moved away.
They sat there, crying into each other's shoulders. They were happy tears, mixed with a few sad ones and several ones of regret.
"You? Gay?" Lance chuckled into Sophia's shoulder, already knowing there'd be tear stains left to taint her shirt. He finally let go of her torso, all to smile even wider. "I can't believe it."
Sophia nodded. "Yeah - but listen. I'm not lying when I say it; I really am proud. You've done so much, become so much."
"Proud? Even after tonight?"
Sophia's smile shifted away slightly. "No, not really about that. You really did fuck it up, Lance."
Lance frowned, though it was more towards himself.
Of course he fucked it up: Lance ruined Christmas. Abuela may have initiated the destruction, but Lance was the one who'd kept it going. Lance was upset; not at the others, but at himself.
"I don't know how to fix it," Lance whispered in dismay, rather distressed. "Keith is gone, and everyone out that door probably hates me."
"I won't lie to you, the others are probably pissed. Hell, I am too."
"You are?"
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you've become my sworn enemy. It's just a thing that happens - people get mad. I still love you and you're still my little brother, so I can get over it. And them?" She jabbed her thumb towards the bedroom door, referring to their family off to clean up the mess of Christmas dinner. "They can get over it too."
Lance grappled at this concept, and deep down he knew Sophia was right.
"What should I do?"
"First of all? You need to say sorry to Keith."
Keith.
The mention of his name brought Lance to a whole other issue, an entirely new ballgame.
Lance had revealed their secret, and more than that, he'd pushed Keith away. The two had developed something over the course of the break, and Lance had still found a way to snip that beautiful bond right down the middle.
"I can't," Lance mumbled, feeling at a complete loss. "He hates me now."
"He probably does." Sophia agreed, suddenly reaching for Lance's hands. She held them tightly, squeezing the same way Rosa always did. "I don't know Keith that well, but I'm sure not the only one who's noticed."
"Noticed what?"
"That he's completely fallen for you."
Lance sighed, pulling his hands away softly. "I know."
"Wait - you know?!" Sophia's voice jumped a few octaves, all as she stared at Lance in dismay. "And you still said those awful things? What the hell, Lance!"
"I wasn't thinking!"
"Well, obviously!" Sophia groaned, rubbing at her temples. She stood up from the bed to pace the room, all before turning back to her brother. "You like him back though, right?"
"I don't know?"
"Oh my god. Oh my god, I can't believe this. Oh. My. God. My brother - he's an idiot!"
Lance scowled, folding his arms over his chest. "I am not an idiot! I've just been too stressed or distracted to think about that sort of thing."
"That boy made you a mixtape!" Sophia was near shouting now, though it wasn't loud enough to grab the attention of the other family members beyond the door. "He made you a mixtape, and you, you, you actually-"
"He wrote me a letter too."
"He what."
Lance let out a sigh. "Yes, he wrote me a letter. I didn't read it though - after I told him I didn't want a relationship he sort of-"
"Sort of what, Lance Sanchez."
"He told me to throw it away."
Sophia looked ready to crack. Scratch that, she already had, all as she paced the room with hands in her hair. "And so you threw it away. And then proceeded to embarrass him in front of the family."
Lance nodded.
"That's it," Sophia cried, suddenly reaching for Lance's hand. "We are finding that letter. You will rummage through the trash, I don't fucking care. You will read the letter, and you will say sorry to that poor boy."
Lance didn't dare fight her on this - he was just glad they were fighting in the first place. It was a fight over something normal, something that Lance knew could be fixed. It was a sibling sort of bicker, it was real. The two had made up - in a strange, unique sort of way. Now Sophia was helping him like the sister she really was, all as she tugged him by the arm towards the garbage by the fridge.
"Find it," She commanded, pointing at the pile of trash. "Find it, read it, and when you're done? Tell me how you really feel."