Palette hung back, silently watching the scene with a smile while reminiscing about his own family. His dad was off doing their own thing nowadays, but he and his mom usually got to video chat at least once a week. Eight years not speaking to each other... he didn't think he could do it.
"He's the one, right? That's Palette?"
The artist perked up at hearing his name, seeing Goth's grip loosen as the trio of skeletons looked to him. The small skeleton nodded his skull while humming in confirmation. Raising an arm, Geno called out, "Well, get over here. You're getting a hug too."
Palette laughed, moving to join the group hug next to Goth. As two arms closed around the artist's back and shoulder, the smaller parent sighed, "Stars, I'm a mess. I said I wouldn't cry and here I am falling to pieces. We haven't even done introductions yet."
"You're fine, hun. Besides, ya look perfect to me," the other purred, kissing the side of his husband's skull.
"Reaper, not now; we're having a moment," the scarved skeleton huffed.
"'Kay... later though?" Reaper chuckled, a hopeful lilt tinging his words. This sounded like something that happened often.
"Yes, later," his husband conceded, returning his attention to the pair he was hugging.
Turning toward his boyfriend, Palette caught sight of a new patch of red... one that was spreading across Geno's sweater.
"Oh stars, you're bleeding!" the artist yelped in alarm, dropping Goth's bag to dig feverishly into his pocket for his phone, "We need to call a-"
"Ohhh, I even double-wrapped for the occasion! I knew I should have worn something thicker," Geno sulked, releasing Goth to pluck at his sweater in distaste; behavior that was completely at odds with the situation. Looking up from the diagonal blotch at their shocked guest, the older monster groaned, "Ugh, I got it on your nice jacket too. Come inside; if I work quickly, I can get the stain out before it sets."
Palette was flabbergasted as he was led by the arm down the walkway toward the house, even more so when Goth casually picked up his bag and Reaper followed along like this was a common occurrence.
Catching Palette's muted panic, Goth grimaced as he explained, "Don't worry, this happens sometimes; it's normal for him."
"This is normal," the taller repeated in utter disbelief as he was led through the front door.
His companion nodded, slipping out of their black jacket and checking it over, "Yeah, mom has a condition that causes him to bleed from an old injury. It's fine on its own most of the time, but it can flare up and bleed out when he gets emotional or stressed out." Goth turned to hang his coat on the rack by the door as he called out, "Looks like mine's good, mom."
"Alright, I can focus on your boyfriend's jacket then. I apologize for the fuss...," Geno sighed before turning to address Palette, only to trail off at their ashen complexion. He flashed a look of worry toward Goth, "I hope this doesn't change our arrangements regarding you both staying for the holiday. If you're not comfortable spending the night..."
Palette quickly raised his hands in reassurance, "No, no; I'm grateful you're having us. I just saw blood and thought you were hurt. Just to be sure, you're okay? We don't need to call anyone?"
"Yes, this small amount is fine. A fresh set of bandages and a new sweater; I'll be good as new," Geno replied, motioning for Palette's jacket. Belatedly setting his bag down to pull it off, he handed over the garment and watched the older skeleton fold it over their arm, "The scar's only ever a problem if I let it go on too long, and that hasn't happened for a long time."
Walking away down a hallway to the left of the stairs, the parent called back, "Reaper, show them upstairs while I take care of the wash and change."
"Sure thing," the hooded parent said, heading toward the staircase that was set directly across from the front door.
Now that Palette had a chance to really look, the house looked as cozy on the inside as it did on the outside. On the left side of the hallway Geno had disappeared down, there was a cased opening leading to a living room decorated in warm reds and browns. The right side of the steps opened into another room with what looked to be an adjustable dining table in the center and fine china resting in a long glass cabinet against the wall.
Following Reaper up the stairs, they arrived on a landing with a skylight window above them, two hallways stretching to the left and right containing four doorways each, and a door leading to a bathroom opposite the stairs.
"Your room's still good to go, kiddo," the older monster chucked a thumb toward the first door on the right side of the left hallway.
The news seemed to surprise Goth. He stared at the closed door with a quizzical expression, "My room? My old room is still here?"
"Yeah, your mom wouldn't let anyone touch it," Reaper chuckled, "said he always wanted there to be a place for ya if ya showed up again; nearly had a soul attack when he caught Raven going through your stuff once."
Goth's eye light returned to the door as his sockets began welling up once more. Palette wrapped the smaller in a comforting hug while asking, "Not the disaster you thought it'd be, right?"
Goth rested the side of his skull against theirs, blinking back tears as he admitted, "Yes, you were right."
"As always," the artist quipped smugly.
His confidence was met with skepticism, "Don't get too cocky, or I'll tell everyone at work not to help you with the espresso machine anymore."
"Oh stars please no," Palette immediately begged, recalling the horror that was his last attempt at using that temperamental machine on his own. Only Brea's timely intervention prevented him from accidentally breaking something and costing the shop thousands in repair bills.
"Your mom did mention ya working at a cafe," the taller parent commented with an amused expression, "Once ya both get settled, we can talk more about it."
As Goth reached for the door handle, Reaper tapped on Palette's shoulder and murmured, "Follow me, your room's down the other hall." Nodding his skull toward the doorway his son had just passed through, he added, "Should give him some privacy too."
The artist nodded, following the adult to the opposite end of the hallway where they presented the far right door with a lackadaisical flourish, "One of our guest rooms. Feel free to make yourself at home, but no funny stuff with Goth... Gen's words, not mine."
Palette sputtered, recalling the one instance Goth ended up in his bed by accident, "No, of course not! I would never do anything like that!"
Reaper chortled, leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, "Relax, I'm not worried. Gen just doesn't want ya both jumping into anything before ya have your ducks in a row.
"Anyways, I'll let ya get settled. Once you're ready, come downstairs and we can get to know each other."
"Thanks," Palette replied, turning the knob to enter the guest bedroom.
***
Word Count: 1,231