hadn’t seen me for several years, so he was a little surprised by all the changes I had gone through during that time.
“He used to wake us all about six in the morning,” Rik complained, coming up the corridor. “Even after he was old enough to know better. He finally outgrew that after….”
Yvo nodded, his eyes shadowed for a second. “I was there.”
We were both missing my parents. Uncle Yvo and I had talked a lot this afternoon, when I had arrived. It had sounded like he was talking me off the ledge once or twice, but it was nice to talk to him. I had thought I would be able to get through this evening, but the panic-type attack in the bathroom convinced me I might not.
“He always woke me up first,” Rik groused.
I flushed. I had been a kid. Children were usually sleepless the night before Christmas, wondering what they were going to get even if they knew Santa wasn’t real. Or at least that he wasn’t the one dropping off presents for children. Rik had been a jerk for telling me Santa wasn’t real when I was six. But Rik had been a sophisticated sixteen-year-old and not interested in indulging his younger brother’s flights of fancy, or wanting him to wake up before dawn to look for Santa.
There was a suddenly awkward silence, and then looks passed between Rik and Yvo. I felt my face get hot. Uncle Yvo’s house was a strange place, and it had always been decorated for Christmas even during other parts of the year. The house was actually more of a mansion, filled with curious knickknacks, out-of-the-way rooms, and the strange finds Uncle Yvo had made over the years. As a child, the place had fascinated me, and I’d gotten into a few places I shouldn’t have. Many a Christmas Eve I had snuck down under the tree to sleep, waiting impatiently for the morning. It hadn’t always been the best thing to do. From the look on Rik’s face, he was remembering my antics, and not fondly.
“Stay in your bed tonight,” Rik had snapped. Behave for once went unsaid, as well as act fucking normal . “I’ll tell you when to get out of bed.”
I’d nodded, my throat tight. I’d had the oddest dreams when I had slept under the Christmas tree here. My dreams had been of hostile mice, dancing dolls, strange candy, and a handsome prince. It was weird that I’d had almost the same dream every time I was here, until I stopped coming at eighteen. It was those dreams that had given me the big hint that I was gay, since I always dreamed of a prince and never a princess.
“He never caused any harm waking us up that early,” Yvo said mildly, “which is more than I can say of you.”
Rik’s face took on a plum color, one that didn’t look good with the suit he was wearing. I sighed, thinking of the incident. Rik had snuck out of bed when he was eighteen to raid the liquor cabinet, and he had been sick the next day because of it. Our parents hadn’t been too happy.
“And now we should be getting down to the guests,” Yvo said, pleased he had put a crimp in Rik’s bullying.
Uncle Yvo looked over at me, and I suddenly felt terribly underdressed compared to Rik’s designer suit and Uncle Yvo’s odd Victorian one. I was in green dress pants and a white button-down top—nice but not formal.
“You look fine,” Yvo assured me, as if he could see what I was thinking.
“Do you even own a suit?” Rik snarled impatiently, looking down his nose at me.
I shrugged. “I left it at home. I didn’t think I was coming on a job interview.”
My one suit was nice, but I would be even more out of place wearing it here, because it was something I had picked up off the rack, in case I needed one. I usually wore it to Rik’s parties and was mocked for it. But I didn’t care about what they thought, and I wasn’t going to spend much money on a suit I was only going to wear once a year.
“You—”
“You are the only one with a problem,” Yvo snapped.
Rik huffed and stalked down the corridor to the grand