The Great Magical Magic

-

Contrary to popular belief, there were days when Whitewyrm castle was quiet in the evenings: no galas, no balls, no parties to be had. Even the powerful needed their rest, as they said.

Dion spent his nights of respite away from Oriflamme, so to speak, occasionally escaping incognito to a tavern located on its outskirts. As much as he enjoyed his days away from the battlefield at home or in the company of his men, there were times when he wished to be by himself, somewhere no one recognized him. These instances have only grown in number since his father remarried the former duchess of Rosaria and sired his younger brother, Olivier.

This particular tavern served good alcohol for a fair price. The first time Dion was here, he’d taken a way too huge swig of ale than he’d been used to and choked on it—hardly his proudest moment, but no one he knew had been there to see it. He’d ended up only drinking water for the rest of that night. Even to this day, one of the older servers still remembered it, setting a cup of water beside his usual order of alcohol whenever he went to visit.

Dion did get better at drinking with time. If anything, these occasional larks had probably contributed to his now-stronger tolerance to alcohol. It helped him with his official appearances at events in the castle, as back then he couldn’t drink as much as he did now, lest he get caught doing things a prince shouldn’t do—not that it could ever happen, as Terence was usually there to cover him at all times.

Tonight was yet another of those nights. Dion feigned tiredness at family supper to escape the Empress’ biting remarks, which had been growing worse as Olivier grew older. He prepared to leave the castle again, clad in a nondescript modest attire and his hair undone. A passing guardsman looked the other way; he probably understood his lord’s intentions despite their eyes never having met. Then after, getting past Terence’s room was easy.

But Terence, on his way back to his quarters, caught Dion red-handed. “Where are you going, Your Highness?”

“Just to the balcony, to get some fresh air. It has been a long day.”

“There is one in your room,” Terence pointed out. “Also if I may be so bold, milord, you seem to be dressed as if you are headed somewhere and wish for no one to find out.”

Dion should have known his fib wouldn’t get through. Terence clearly knew Dion better than he gave him credit for, after having served as his squire for all these years now. “And I would have you look the other way, too, for this night and all others I shall do the same. You are dismissed, Terence.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” With that, Terence finally retired to his room, and Dion heaved a small sigh of relief. Certain that no one else would stop him from leaving now, he turned the corner toward the next hallway leading to the side gate. The guardsmen there usually left their post at this time of evening to dine with the chambermaids.

No sooner had these thoughts crossed his mind than a thick, dark cloth was thrown over him from behind, obscuring his vision. Dion whirled back at his assailant, ready to strike, and was only met with a frowning Terence, wearing a similarly-colored cloak over earthen-colored clothes and boots. The first thing that crossed his confused mind was how handsome his squire was.

“Your outfit gives too much of you away,” Terence didn’t give Dion a chance to protest. “Keep that on at all times; it will help with the cold.”

Dion could merely stare dumbfoundedly as Terence counted the change in his purse. He was still staring by the time Terence was done. “What is it, Your Highness?”

“You were dismissed, Terence.”

“I was. My liege gave me leave to do as I wished for the rest of the night, so I have merely done so.”

The realization hit Dion like a speeding carriage before it dawned on him. “You mean…”

“Think nothing of it, milord. I merely feel like drinking, too.”

With a friend, Terence clearly didn’t say. That was when Dion knew he’d lost this particular battle. His squire really knew him too well, so to allow his company simply became the best course of action for them both.

-

Dion remained deep in thought as he followed Terence from behind. He found the frankness Terence had displayed earlier oddly refreshing, unlike his usual modest, respectful demeanor while he was on the job. Even his manner of speaking had changed entirely, if their short banter while crossing through Oriflamme’s night market was of any indication. It seemed like Terence was truly making good of acting “as a friend;” if anything, it will help keep up the charade better.

The coat Dion wore now was a little bigger than his usual size; Terence’s growth spurt had been kinder to him than it had been to Dion, a fact he secretly resented back when they were youths who had yet to come of age. He still thought about it now, he realized, as his gaze lingered upon Terence’s broad shoulders longer than it should have. Dion hid the blush that crept up his face by pulling the hood of his coat lower.

If Terence had noticed the unusual way Dion oddly shuffled along, he made no mention of it at all. So Dion let himself indulge a little more, studying intently the way Terence walked, his strides longer and more confident than Dion had first remembered. The curve of his shoulder blades, the arch of his back. The way his muscled form filled out his shirt to almost-bursting. Since when has he grown up like this, Dion wondered to himself.

And Dion hadn't know it yet, but this was the moment he fell in love.

They ended up at an alehouse even further than Dion’s usual haunt. Terence had heard that this particular place carried really good ale known far and wide, and if the rumors are true, a particularly-special brew that was only served once in a blue moon would be available only for tonight.

“Well, yer in luck,” the house master smirked at them as they took their seats at the bar, putting before them two cold tankards of fresh ale. “Here’s the last of it. Enjoy, lads.”

“Thank you, sir,” Terence spoke on their behalf, leaving a handful of gil on the counter in exchange for their drinks. The look on Terence’s face as he took his first swig of the drink was undeniably of utter delight, a carefree moan escaping from him as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Oooh, this is the stuff! Nothing like the swill they serve back at the barracks, that’s for sure.” The house master merely grinned from behind the counter in reply.

Dion wasn’t used to this Terence at all. The one he’s always known was stern and serious to a fault, even during the times Dion himself tried to get him to open up. Mayhap he’d always had his walls up the entire time, given their different stations in life. Their fates and the resulting relationship they would have with each other had already been decided upon their births. ‘A humble, loyal servant’, Terence had introduced himself then, and Dion could do naught but nod in acknowledgement.

The memory of it hurt Dion now, more than he’d expected it to. While he highly appreciated Terence’s undivided loyalty, he also desired his friendship. He found that he loved this Terence before him: one without worry and without care, with his guard down, and simply enjoying this moment. Enjoying simpler times in between the difficult ones, now growing fewer and farther in between as war loomed on the horizon.

Dion looked down into his tankard, the cool ale reflecting his downcast eyes. He firmly shook his head; now was not the time for such sad thoughts, he decided, taking a huge swig out of his own drink. “Damn, this is good,” he let himself exclaim, after the alcohol smoothly went down his gullet. He felt Terence’s warm eyes on him, no doubt happy for his liege—friend. Whatever Dion was to him at the moment, since he’s already been dismissed for the night.

The ale was gone too quickly after that, and they ended up ordering several more tankards of a weaker brew in order to stay longer. This particular brew was free-flowing from the tap for a set fee, and they would enjoy it for all they could for however long they were allowed. The rest of the alehouse’s patrons also remained for the same purpose, it seemed, so ultimately there was still profit to be had.

Right now, said patrons were drunkenly singing songs of the sea and sky, all of which were familiar to Dion’s ears from his times at the encampment. After a while, Terence also softly sang along— this one was about “Dion the Bold”, made popular by a traveling bard who hailed from Lostwing. The first time he’d heard it at one of his previous escapades, Dion’s ears had immediately burned and he’d returned home earlier than usual, immediately burying his face into his pillow to suppress a scream of embarrassment.

Dion turned to Terence, undoubtedly even more mortified this time. Luckily, the hood hid the worst of the confusion and panic reflected in his eyes, but Terence merely faced him with a reassuring smile, as the song and the noise and the entire alehouse faded away all around them, and all Dion could register was the way his heart beat faster than it ever had.

“It’s all true, though, my prince,” Terence gently affirmed, clearly not as drunk as Dion initially thought he was. “You ought to give yourself more credit for all that you’ve done for the Empire. For your people.”

Dion gulped audibly at that, choking a sob that threatened to rise from his throat. All the empty praises and grand adulations that brought him no joy for the longest time, instantly swept away by a casual remark from one so close to him. The reassurance he didn’t know he needed to hear until now, he realized, as his eyes welled with tears unbidden and his hands trembled around the tankard he held.

Oh, his inebriation finally caught up to him, Dion thought absently. Immediately he felt soft lips briefly trace over the wet track his tears had left over his face—one side, then the other. “It’s all right, Dion,” Terence said softly, placing a gentle hand over his shoulder. “I’m here.”

Dion looked up into Terence’s steel-gray eyes, the flickering candlelight from the center of the hall reflected in them. He thought he felt those same soft lips cover his own, but he probably couldn’t have, because Terence’s shadow over him was gone the next moment and he’s back to nursing his own tankard.

He’s not going to talk about it in the morning, Dion mused ruefully. Probably chalk it all up to bravado brought about by inebriation. A shame, really, but that’s how it all ought to be between them. He was happy for now, though, having discovered more sides of his beloved squire outside of their official positions during the day.

-

Kihel remembered picking a scab on her elbow after her grandmother’s death. 

She got the wound while playing in the park, then hid it from everyone until the blood dried. It was pretty fun; it gave her something to do while the grown-ups were busy, and Nana wasn’t there to scold her. 

But playtime ended and dinnertime passed, and Nana never came. Worried that maybe she was still doing house chores late at night, she asked Dion where her Nana was.

“Nana’s not coming back?”

“... No, Kihel. She’s not coming back.”

“Not even to get angry at my booboo?” She showed him the injury on her elbow, smudged with dried blood and dirt.

A tight hug and something wet dripping onto her shoulder. “No… I’m sorry.”

She was still picking the scab by the third day, when the three of them went out to church. There, Nana was sleeping inside a box while everyone prayed and sang. “Why is everyone wearing black today, Uncle Terence?”

Terence merely held her hand quietly. He had dark circles under his eyes like Dion. “They are saying goodbye to Nana… to Aunt Ethel today.”

They went back home after the church people took Nana away, and she started picking at her scab again. The wound bled after a few minutes and her elbow started to hurt. Dion and Terence immediately came to her room when they heard her cry. 

“Nanaaa! It hurts!”

In hindsight, Kihel probably already realized it deep down in her heart, but just didn’t know it yet. Such was the mind of a child.

Dion and Terence both embraced her; it was the first time she saw grown-ups cry. Then Terence stood up and got medicine and a kitty band-aid from her dresser. “Can you bring up your arm like this?”

Terence quietly cleaned her wound and put the kitty band-aid over it. Then Dion asked her a question. “Kihel, I… Do you… want to stay here?… With us?”

He sounded strange when he said that. Stay with them? She never lived with anyone but Nana before, but they said Nana wasn’t coming back. She didn’t know anyone else. “I will live... with Uncle Dion and Uncle Terence?”

Dion’s eyes were shiny and sad when she asked him that, but he was trying his best to smile. “Yes, Kihel.” He sounded braver now. “With us. Do you want to?”

Nana wasn’t coming back. And Kihel didn’t know anyone else. “... I want to.”

Dion hugged her again, Terence did the same. And she felt happy.

After that, Kihel stayed with a lady called Tarja for a few days while Dion and Terence went out to do important stuff. “We will come back, we promise.”

“Okay, Uncle Dion, Uncle Terence.”

Those three days couldn’t have passed quickly enough. Tarja was very nice and cooked delicious food, but Kihel missed Dion and Terence. All she could remember was not letting Tarja remove her kitty band-aid from her elbow.

When the three of them went home again, Kihel saw her new room: it was light pink and blue and green, with a soft bed and toys and books. Her clothes from her and Nana’s old home were in the closet, and there were new dresses, too. “Do you like it?” Terence asked.

Kihel looked up to Terence’s face; there were smudges of pink and green paint on his cheek. There were also small paint marks on Dion’s fingers. She giggled. “Yes, I like it!”

They hugged her again, one after the other. “We’re so happy! Welcome home, Kihel.”

She let go of her elbow with the kitty band-aid and hugged them back. “I’m home!”

-

Art classes started as early as first grade, and their teacher asked them to draw their families for their first project.

Kihel wasn’t an exceptional artist—even now, she never held such delusions, but she liked to believe she’d become better since then. But she wasn’t thinking of such things at that time, and only wanted to talk about her family.

She was still working on her drawing after dinnertime, scribbling away in the living room while Dion washed the dishes. Terence will be back home from work soon, and she hoped to show them her finished project before they went to bed.

In the end, Terence came home later than expected, so Dion had to tuck her to bed so she wouldn’t wake up late for school the next morning. Her drawing remained on her desk so they’d see it in the morning when they came to wake her up.

Terence drove Kihel to school the next morning. He was smiling the whole time. “Have fun today, Kihel,” he sent her off with a gentle pat on the head. Kihel dodged it, giggling at how his fingers tickled her scalp.

She couldn’t wait to show her uncles her drawing at dinner tonight. It’s okay even if it’s late.

In art class, each student came to the front to present their drawing. When it was her turn, Kihel proudly stood up and showed hers to everyone. “This is my family. I’m in the middle. On the left is Uncle Dion, and on the right is Uncle Terence. They are very, very kind.

“My uncles always came to play whenever Nana had to go to work. I also stayed at their house whenever Nana went to the doctor. Then Nana died last year, and I now live with my uncles. This is our happy family picture. Thank you.”

Kihel was beaming when she finished, but no one clapped for her.

Marcus stood up and pointed at her picture. “Where’s your mommy and daddy?”

She didn’t know the answer to that. Was Nana mommy? What about daddy - was it Uncle Dion or Uncle Terence? Kihel was very confused, and her cheeks were red and puffy. “I… I…”

Then suddenly, Mr. Rosfield clapped his hands. Was he crying? Her other classmates started clapping, too. It was only then that Kihel began to cry for real.

At the end of art class, Mr. Rosfield said something that would stay with her for many years: “Remember, class: there are many kinds of families. Not everyone has a mommy or daddy or Nana or aunt or uncle, but everyone has someone who loves them.”

Kihel was the last to leave school that day. Mr. Rosfield sat quietly with her at the steps of the building. She was still holding onto her drawing.

Terence’s car pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and both her uncles quickly came out of the car. “Kihel! Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, Uncle Dion, Uncle Terence.”

Mr. Rosfield immediately stood up and greeted her uncles. “Flare, Knight. Good to see you both again.” They hugged each other briefly before Mr. Rosfield beckoned Kihel to come closer. “It’s time to go home?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s time to go home.” Kihel held Terence’s outstretched hand as they walked back to the car. Dion stayed a little longer to talk to Mr. Rosfield. “Thank you, Phoenix. I… We owe you one.”

“It’s nothing. Kihel is my student; I only did what any teacher would do.” Mr. Rosfield firmly pat Dion’s shoulder. “Go on, they’re waiting for you.”

The drive home was quiet even though the three of them were in the car. Maybe her uncles were tired from work, but Dion definitely didn’t show it. He sat in the back with her instead of the seat beside Uncle Terence, and held her hand while looking out the window.

Why were they sad, Kihel wondered. Would her drawing make them smile again?

Terence and Dion were still preparing dinner when Kihel finished her bath. She swallowed the ball of air in her mouth, holding her drawing in her hands. 

She will show it to them, Kihel decided. She will make them smile.

Dion stopped setting the plates when he heard Kihel’s footsteps approach. Terence was also watching her closely. It felt like art class again, except Mr. Rosfield wasn’t there to clap for her.

She breathed in deeply. “Um, can I show you my drawing?”

Dion’s face softened as he knelt before her. Terence did the same. “Yes, my dear. Can we see it?”

Kihel brightened at once, bringing up her family picture. She repeated the same speech she made during art class, growing more and more confident with each statement. She remembered Mr. Rosfield’s words, and the pat he gave Dion before they went home.

‘Everyone has someone who loves them.’ Kihel stopped short before the last part. “Then… Then Nana died, and…”

Terence looked alarmed and reached out to her, but Dion held his hand to stop him. He became quiet once more. Kihel found her voice again.

“And… I now live with my new dads. This is our happy family picture.” She smiled at the end. This time she knew she was crying properly.

Dion reached out to hug her first. He was crying, too. Terence embraced both of them at once. They stayed like that for a very long time.

“Thank you for your picture,” Dion said softly. “We love you, always.”

Kihel sniffled happily. “I love you both, too.”

They ate dinner late that night, and she had ice cream before bedtime. For the first time, Kihel knew for sure that she was home, and she was loved.

-

Growing up, Kihel wouldn’t really describe herself as a problem child. Her parents pretty much agreed with her on that in general, having never been called in for low grades or not behaving in school. She was generally a good student for the most part all throughout grade school and middle school.

It wasn’t to say she and her dads never had any disagreements through the years. Kihel was growing and learning, so she was bound to develop her own opinions and ideas that may or may not clash with those around her. It was a normal part of life.

Of all the times Kihel had fought with her parents, prom night during senior year of high school was probably the worst one to date, to her at least.

Someone—Marcus, if she recalled correctly—sneaked alcohol into the school gymnasium. How he easily got past security with that unusually heavy bag was a puzzlement, but it made everyone excited nonetheless. There was a happy sort of buzzing energy all around, as the bottles were secretly passed around among the students, each one taking a curious sip then giggling to their friends after. For some, it was probably their first taste of alcohol, and thus a celebration of small wins that seemed big to them at that time.

Kihel blanched when a half-empty bottle was suddenly shoved into her hands. “Your turn, Lesage.”

She quickly glanced around, looking for some form of protest or escape. “Be careful, Kihel,” Terence had warned her earlier before dropping her off at school, and she had dismissed it easily, self assured that her parents were being worrywarts, as usual.

As it turned out, they had legitimate cause to be concerned, after all, and Kihel was this close to making it real as her hand trembled around the bottle she held, and her classmates cheered her name louder and louder. It was like a repeat of art class in first grade again, but worse.

No, Kihel thought defiantly. She was better than that. Her dads raised her well, and she was going to make them proud of her.

“I’m not drinking,” she firmly refused, handing back the bottle to the one standing next to her. “We shouldn’t be. It was in the rules.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Lesage,” Marcus’ friend jeered at her, the condescending tone he used making her want to claw at something in irritation. “Whose rules, the teachers’? They’re not even here!” Everyone laughed.

They actually were, Kihel thought darkly, but probably were too afraid to break up the growing disturbance like the old cowards they were. Her grade school teachers were better. Her dads—

“Or was it your dads who told you ‘no’?” Marcus chimed in. “You poor goody-two-shoes, acting all that just to make up for not having real pare—”

Kihel didn’t let him finish that sentence. 

Everything else after was a blur, but she remembered her arms hurting all over, and her knuckles and fingernails burning. By the time she regained her senses, she felt weak and limp in the arms of a couple of friends who seemed to have been holding her back the whole time.

In the end, both she and Marcus were punished with a week-long suspension each. As much as her homeroom teacher fervently took her side, she couldn’t defend a student’s blatant display of violence in campus before the disciplinary committee, no matter what the circumstances that led to it. That said, the committee at least gave Kihel credit for speaking out against the rulebreakers, as well as for standing up to the slander against her parents.

“She’s a brave child, but she’s still young,” one teacher told her parents when they came to pick her up after the punishment was decided. “I believe that with time and enough guidance, she’ll be able to temper that energy and channel it to where it’s needed the most.”

The ride home was eerily quiet. Kihel was still sullen when they finally pulled into their driveway, refusing to get out of the car even after Dion had left. “I’m not sorry.”

Terence said nothing, his glance lingering briefly at her through the rearview mirror before following Dion into the house. It was a whole different kind of fight, one she was very unfamiliar and uncomfortable with. She couldn’t reason or argue or scream her way out, lest she drowns in the ringing silence and the pain that spread from her gut down to the very ends of her fingers and toes.

She didn’t know how she ended up in her room after that, but Dion was asleep at her bedside when she woke up. Terence was just opening the door with a tray of food in his hands when he yelped in joy in her direction. He immediately set the tray down on her desk and crushed her in a tight hug. 

“Don’t make us worry like that again,” he voice broke as he scolded her, warm hands balling into fists as he shuddered. Oh, it’s like when Nana died all over again.

The commotion had awoken Dion, and he cleared his throat to get their attention. “Terence couldn’t sleep for the past two nights, you know,” he said to her nonchalantly, but couldn’t betray the similar emotion that filled his voice. Her dads would probably be fighting over who was more worried in more lighthearted times, but such thoughts were not suited at all for tonight.

It was the first time in a while since Kihel properly observed her parents’ faces up close, and she could see how much raising a family had aged them so. They were actually still young, having only been in their mid-twenties when they adopted her. They were still growing, too, Kihel realized, but they couldn’t show her their weaknesses—simply because they were her parents.

But they were also people, weren’t they? Everyone made mistakes. What was so strange about that?

Kihel shuddered in Terence’s arms, releasing the breath she didn’t know she held in until now. Why did their most important memories make them cry every time?

“This is so stupid,” Kihel whined after telling them as much, and the three of them laughed softly, having reached an unspoken understanding of sorts. They’ll weather through it somehow, together.

-

“I can’t do this.”

“You can, love. This is the last one.”

Kihel merely laughed from the sidelines as she watched Terence coax Dion into rehearsing his speech one more time. It had become like a comedy routine of theirs for the past month now, amid the rest of the wedding preparations they had to take care of. The great Dion Lesage getting stage fright was simply unthinkable.

The invitation from the Lesage family had been an unexpected but nonetheless welcome surprise. Dion had merely dropped the envelope in shock as he and Terence exchanged confused looks. “I thought you’ve been disowned?”

“Apparently not,” Dion muttered. Kihel picked up the fallen paper to read its contents. “... requesting the honor of your presence at the wedding of Anne-Marie Dubois and Olivier Lesage… Your brother wants you as his best man, Dad?”

“No one else probably wanted to do it,” Terence sighed, waving his hand. The Lesages were probably getting desperate, if they were going so far as to contact a family member they’d previously cut off, so they could keep up appearances. “What will you do, Dion?”

Kihel could tell how much of a tight spot this had put Dion in, if the way his eyebrows deeply furrowed was of any indication. If she could have her way, she’d summarily decline the invitation and any future attempts of the Lesage family to contact her dad, but she’d learned to control herself and pick her battles ever since high school. It was still hard, though, especially when family was concerned.

In the end, familial ties had won out and Dion responded ‘yes’ to the invitation. He believed this a good opportunity to reconnect at the very least, despite having nonexistent fraternal feelings for the groom. He and Olivier’s mother, Annabella, have always had a frosty relationship at best, with frequent bouts of aggression from his stepmother’s end. How Dion could even think of being cordial with her confounded both Terence and Kihel, but they respected his wishes all the same.

Another thing that probably helped the situation was the same Annabella apparently being the biological mother of Mr. Rosfield, her art teacher from grade school. Kihel had been genuinely surprised upon finding out that Dion and Mr. Rosfield were even related at all, but in hindsight, that probably explained why they were such good friends since she was a child. 

Mr. Rosfield had called earlier to say that he and his brother were also attending the wedding, as a sign of goodwill towards their estranged mother. At least Dion will have someone he trusts with him there, since she and Terence weren’t invited. A shame, though, since she’d only gotten to meet Mr. Rosfield a handful of times since graduating from grade school.

Terence was still coaching Dion when Kihel broke out of her reverie. Looking at the way they lightly teased each other like this, it seemed like the two of them were practicing their vows for their own wedding instead. They never got to officially tie the knot, however, because raising Kihel had taken priority at that time, until all notions of holding a wedding had fallen to the wayside over time.

Yet they still endured together all the same, through all those years. Seeing her dads wear their engagement rings as she grew up left a deep impression on her, kindling in her so much warmth and a desire to someday find the one she would spend the rest of her life with.

What a sorry bunch of romantics they were, but Kihel wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Did you say something, Kihel?”

Whoops. “Just talking to myself.” Kihel smiled. “I’ll go back to studying now. Good night, dads.”

“Good night,” her parents said in unison. They’ll probably bring out the wine now that she’s gone and end up sleeping together on the couch until the next morning, but no matter. It was her turn to make breakfast tomorrow anyway.

-

“Cheers! ”

The shuttering of multiple cameras accompanied the clinking of champagne flutes as the group toasted to Kihel, who was grinning as she downed her own glass. It wasn’t everyday that she graduated from college, and she was going to savor every bit of triumph after years of hard work.

Kihel had initially wanted to pursue a business-related degree to follow in Dion’s footsteps, but something had been pulling her to go into Pharmacy instead. Meeting Tarja again after many years at a volunteering activity had sealed the deal, when her heart was moved by all the people who needed help. It vaguely reminded her of a far-away memory she couldn’t quite place, but she decided not to think deeply into it.

“So, what’s next for you, Kihel?” Mr. Rosfield—Joshua—asked her. It felt strange to be calling her former teacher by his first name after all this time, but Joshua’s older brother Clive and his wife Jill were also present tonight, and it would definitely be confusing to tell who she was referring to at any given moment.

“Probably a community-based clinic for now? It’s where all the patients are,” Kihel mused. “I don’t think I’ll do med school. My parents are not getting any younger, and I’d like to spend as much time as I can at home.”

Dion’s outraged “We’re not that old yet!” and Terence’s protesting “Couldn’t you just say you missed us?!” both came out at the same time, which had the whole table laughing again. Kihel’s laugh was the loudest of them all, even as her ears were a vivid shade of red, and not just from the alcohol. She did miss her parents a lot; college was the first time she’d been away for so long. But she wasn’t going to say that outright until all their guests left.

As the small party finally wound down, Joshua discreetly called Kihel’s attention. “It’s happening tonight,” he told her knowingly, looking fondly towards the kitchen, where her parents were busy cleaning up.

Kihel smothered a squeak with her palm. “Oh! Finally! Dad Dion told you?”

“Yesterday, through text. But I imagine you’ve also noticed some things here and there over the past weeks, haven’t you?”

She actually had, a little, but didn’t want to presume. Maybe they’d just been waiting for her to finish with school before pushing through with their wedding plans. Terence had even hinted at it during one of their regular calls in her last semester. Still, Kihel was quite excited at the prospect of her parents finally officially getting married after more than twenty years.

Back in the kitchen, Terence passed a cleaned dish to Dion, who dried it with a worn dishcloth. Their fingers briefly touched and lingered for the longest few seconds only two people who loved each other would know, and shared the most beautiful, intimate smiles they reserved only for when they were alone together. Kihel put a hand over her heart at this sight, trying not to cry, lest she give away the fact that she already knew. 

Joshua patted her shoulder encouragingly. “Everyone’s happy and excited for them. Those two more than deserve it, really.” And maybe there was something in Joshua’s voice that made her think he knew more than he let on, but she was probably just imagining it. “Thank you for being with them, Kihel.”

Oh, no. Why did she have to cry now? Every. Single. Time!

“Phoenix! ” Her dads hollered in unison at Joshua, who was soothingly rubbing her back as she sniffled back her tears. “How dare you make our daughter cry!”

Joshua merely shrugged, not even defending himself. Clive and Jill were both watching with amusement. And just like that, Kihel began to laugh again, albeit in small hiccups this time. “I’m alright, dads. Joshua and I were just catching up.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” Dion looked over Kihel one more time, then briefly sent Joshua a threatening glare before returning to the kitchen. Terence gently smoothed over her hair before kissing the top of her head, to which she looked up and beamed.

Everyone had someone who loved them and whom they loved with all their heart. This, Kihel realized over time, was what family meant. There were many kinds of families out there, and this was hers, where she was home and she was loved.

-

(+1)

By the time their guests left, Kihel had already fallen asleep, curled up on the couch. It had been a long, busy day, from the graduation ceremony in the morning to their small dinner party that lasted until shortly before midnight. No wonder the lady of the hour was beyond exhausted at the end of it all.

Dion spread a blanket over his daughter, remembering the many times he’d done so over the years: first as her babysitter when Ethel was still alive, then later as her father. At the same time, he was probably the stricter parent between him and Terence, who was overall gentler and indulged her more as she grew up.

He felt a pair of arms snake around his waist, pulling him back to rest on a broad chest. Dion relaxed into Terence’s embrace, turning his head slightly to meet his lover’s lips in a slow kiss. Moments like these were always precious to them even after all these years, when they could just enjoy the peace and quiet and each other.

The past twenty years since Kihel came into their lives have been a whirlwind in more ways than one. Suddenly becoming parents at a young age certainly wasn’t in their plans when they were first building their lives together, but Dion could not be more grateful that it all ended up the way it did, and he was sure Terence felt the same way. “It all went by so fast, didn’t it?”

“I wish it didn’t, actually. It feels like such a waste when you say it that way.” Terence rested his head into the crook of Dion’s neck, the arms around his waist tightening as they gently swayed to the chirping of cicadas outside. “So many things happened. I want to cherish them all, savor each moment to the fullest.

“We’ve changed so much since then. When I look back, I’m surprised at how far we’ve come. But we’ve done it, haven’t we?”

Even as Terence voiced his question, he carried himself with so much more conviction now. It wasn’t to say that they had no moments of weakness or doubt, but time and experience have made them into who they’ve become today—hopefully better people than before, and better fathers to Kihel.

“We have, indeed.” They looked upon their sleeping daughter once more with so much love, more than their hearts combined could ever contain. “And I love the people we’ve become, more than anything.”

Dion knelt beside the couch, Terence beside him. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind Kihel’s ear, tears filling his eyes. “With each passing day, I could only love more and more. How lucky I am to have been born in this life. To have a family. A daughter to cherish.” He turned to face Terence. “A husband to spend forever with.”

Terence chuckled at that, gently bumping his forehead against Dion’s while threading their fingers together. “You’ve been saying that for twenty years now, love. I bet Aunt Ethel’s already rolling in her grave in frustration because of how slow you are.”

“Oh, she’d understand. Would you rather she haunted us instead if something had happened to Kihel?”

“Point taken.” Terence relaxed once more before catching Dion’s lips in another kiss. “When do we start planning our wedding?”

jasmine, didn't you just make a new stand--

yes. yes i did.

i am just insane enough about these two to make another standee that i'm not 100% sure will even sell