#dingletragedy

— The light is soft over Callum’s cheeks.l, they’re are still red with sleep, pillow creases adoring his face. But still, he looks like every dream Ben has ever had. That’s the first thing Ben comes to realise when he nudges the bedroom door open, so gentle that it stays blessedly silent from it’s usual creaking, so tentatively that Callum’s eyes don’t flicker open. The clock has just freaked over to eight am, sun rising up between the trees and pouring dappled, milky reflections through the window, splayed along the expanse of Callum’s back.

Ben clears his throat softly and meanders further into the room, their room. “Hey,” he whispers. The door closes behind him without a click. Callum shifts, eyes flicking open, almost translucent where the light hits, like pale, stained glass. There’s something so delicate about the way he blinks, lashes tangled together with sleep, his brows mused, hair sticking in every which way direction.

"Creep," Callum mumbles when he catches Ben watching him, turning over so he's more fully on his side, rubbing his cheek against his pillow. Ben doesn't reply, just keeps staring at him, until Callum props himself up on one elbow and offers him a small smile.

"Mornin’," Callum replies, his hoarse morning voice cracking over the word, and God, Ben really wishes they could spend the whole day in bed.

Callum’s eyelashes look the softest shade of brown, sweeping steady and slow as he blinks, lips cherry glaze. Here, Ben sees him in curves and gentle fingertips, a vulnerable haze to his tired eyes, so young-looking and innocent with his hair flat and soft smile on his face that pull at Ben’s heart in all the ways he wants it to be pulled.

“I missed you,” Ben says as he settles himself on the bed beside Callum, reaching a hand out to trace his fingers over Callum’s shoulder, and the flurry of fading freckles there. Light, prism, dispersion. His skin is warm.

Callum leans into his touch on instinct, and Ben can’t help the tiny sigh the escapes his lips; it’s everything. The comfort of touch, the whisper of his breath, the depths of his eyes as Callum glances up at him from under his wet lashes. Sunlight dances on one side of his face, pale strips of it that bring a white glow to his temple and the tip of his cheekbone. “You only look Lex to school, you big softie,” Callum mocks. “But, yeah— I missed you too, I suppose.”

“You know, you should try being a bit nicer to me?”

“Oh yeah?” Callum questions, “and whys that?”

“Just—Christmas ain’t it?” Ben answers, but it comes out as more of a whispered-choke. “It’s nice to be nice. I like Christmas, when I’ve got people to share all the magic with. People I love. Nice, ain’t it?”  

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“Speaking of,” Ben announces. “We’re gonna have to have a change of plan today, no lazy day for us I’m afraid.”

“Uh—what? Why?” Callum questions, not at all happy at the news.

“Lexi has threatened that if that Christmas tree ain’t up by the time she gets home from school then she’ll be calling social services. And we both know she ain’t the kind of girl to go back on her word.”

“Hm,” Callum says, head lolling onto his shoulder, eyebrow cocked up. “Remind you of someone?”

“Nope, no one at all,” Ben says, smirk pulling at his lips. The sky has almost cleared now, the gap in the curtain showing a bright white filling the sky, a tell-tale sign that snow is brewing. There’s still a fragile strip of burnt amber on the horizon, the last of the sunrise hanging around, too tired to let go completely. The glistening golds and fading pinks paint their room in shadows, yet despite all that, Callum is still the most beautiful view of all.

And then there’s few minutes of silence, of appreciation*, the kind that only comes with early mornings, before Ben decides now is probably the best time to do what he wants to do.

At Ben’s sudden movement, Callum shifts on his side, and focuses on Ben as he picks up a neatly wrapped box from under the bed. Callum frowns as he picks it up and turns it over, a simple Merry Early Christmas written on the tag, and a couple of kisses thrown in for good measure.

“This from you?” he questions, peering up at Ben through his lashes. Ben merely nods in reply, a sight blushing rising up his cheeks, suddenly feeling nervous, so unlike him. But this matters, it always does when it comes to Callum. “You didn’t have to get me anything—you shouldn’t have, Ben.” Ben shrugs, trying to keep that cool he’s so used to showing. “I wanted to,” he states simply, because really, that’s all there is to it.

When it comes to Callum, he wants. Always has. Always will. Callum doesn’t answer him, instead, he merely reaches down to unwrap the box, large hands enveloping it in one. He gets into the box then, pulls out the gift delicately, eyes shining in wonder, clearly surprised.

It’s a bauble; pristine cut with care and decision. But that’s not all it is, on one side are Callum’s initials, just a simple *C.H, yet engraved just as they are on Ben’s heart. And on the other is the year, *2019. The year that changed everything. “Ben—“ he starts, carefully opening the clear box the bauble arrived in, but is quickly interrupted. “It’s the same as all the others. Mine, Lexi’s, Lola’s, Jay’s, Bobby’s—everyone’s.” Ben ensures him. “We’ve all got one and I wanted you to have one too. Because—well, you’re part of this family too, you know? Whether you like it or not.”

“I do like it,” Callum answer immediately, mouth lifting, a tiny quirk as he pulls at the tape holding the box together. He looks up at Ben then, lashes dark and his eyes shining like galaxies. And that makes Ben’s heart jump, as he realises that no explanation of Callum’s eyes could ever be enough.

“Being part of this brilliant little family—and the bauble. I love it, Ben. Thank you so much,” he finishes, smile brighter than the winter sun. “You really shouldn’t have, Ben, but thank you. This is brilliant. You’re brilliant.” Bashfully, and with a hint of smugness, Ben looks down to his hands, cheeks most likely colouring a shade of red he’d be ashamed of, as he mumbles through a smile, “I know. You’re welcome.”

And yeah, he feels a little like he’s got fireworks trapped inside his chest, exploding into little shocks of happiness whenever Callum so much a slooks his way. It’s ridiculous, really.

Their lips brush then, but they’re still just breathing, just feeling the warm air settling around them, feeling the warmth of their limbs tangled together. There’s whispers shared between them, those kind that are only verbalised before the sun rises. Whispers of I can’t wait to spend every Christmas with you*, and We’re a proper family now*, and finally, when their mouths do meet, when Callum dips towards him and tucks Ben’s bottom lip between his own carefully, all is blessedly quiet.