ashes of worship, h.p

04. first christmas

_____

━ FOUR.

     year one, 1991/1992

     Kallias felt the numbness in his chest. It was a hollow, aching emptiness that seemed to grow during the stillness of the night, pressing on his ribs and leaving him feeling like a shell of himself. The hours had dragged on, the ceiling above turning into a familiar, blank canvas as he stared up, sleep eluding him. He had carried this emptiness for years, and though it ached, he had grown used to it. It had become like a second home, where his heart should have been but wasn't.

The bed had felt too vast, the covers tangled around him as if trying to hold him in place, and Kallias had lost track of time, hovering somewhere between consciousness and the dark pit of restless dreams. At some point in those blurry hours, Princess had decided to make her reappearance, her paws padding softly as she slipped under the covers, her large body curling against his chest.

For a while, he let the warmth of her presence pull him under, the kneazle's steady purring a small anchor which held him to what little peace he could manage. It made the emptiness in his chest feel less consuming.

     In the depths of his half-asleep haze, Kallias felt a shifting on his bed, something different. Something that wasn't the lightness of a creature moving to find a more comfortable spot. This was heavier and clumsier, pressing the mattress down and making the weight at his side dip noticeably.

Kallias frowned, his brow creasing in confusion. His mind was still wrapped in fog, clinging to the thin threads of sleep, and he mumbled something unintelligible, turning over as if to dismiss the intrusion. "Princess, stop moving," his voice was rough and barely coherent, and his fingers brushed against something, but there was fabric instead of the expected soft fur.

It took Kallias a moment to realise what he felt wasn't his pet. He cracked open one eye, his vision blurred, trying to make sense of what or, rather, who was in his bed.

To his surprise, Theodore was sitting at the edge of his bed.

      Theodore looked down at him, his expression a combination of amusement and something else, like concern, though subtle, tucked beneath the arch of his brow and the faint quirk of his lips. He looked mildly insulted, his arms crossed over his chest, and there was something almost theatrical in how he drew himself up.

"What kind of nickname is 'Princess' for me?"

Kallias blinked slowly, his sleep-clouded brain taking several seconds to process what he saw. He rubbed a hand over his face, attempting to scrub away the remnants of sleep, and then squinted at Theodore as if to make sure he was there. "Theodore?" he croaked.

"Princess?" Theodore repeated, an eyebrow arching higher. There was a trace of a smirk playing on his lips as if he was trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

     It took another few seconds for Kallias's brain to catch up. His face warmed slightly, and he groaned, rolling onto his back as he covered his eyes with his hand. "Theo, it's too early for your dramatics," Kallias muttered, though he couldn't keep the faint amusement out of his voice. He shifted, his body still heavy with sleep, and finally let his hand drop to the side, looking back at Theodore with narrowed eyes. "Why are you on my bed?"

Theodore's teasing expression faltered, replaced by something more sincere as he spoke, his eyes shifting away before finding Kallias's again. "Figured I'd come to check on you. You didn't look like you were sleeping at all," he said, his voice softer now. He paused as if debating whether to say more and continued, a touch of vulnerability slipping through. "And, well, I also couldn't sleep, and I thought we could talk if that's alright."