27
Lathan
His head throbs softly with a hangover, but the wafting aroma of bacon and cinnamon curb the pinch in his temples. He breaks off a piece of juicy pork to suck on as he plates the food; ham, eggs, and French toast to go with, and a big cup of apple cinnamon tea, the bag still steeping in the mug. He doesn’t often use the dorm floor’s shared kitchenette, but the cafeteria and quick-service buildings are closed for the holiday—and he wanted to do something more than just premade snacks today. Kylo deserves more than that.
Equipped with a wooden tray stuffed with breakfast, Lathan sneaks back into their room, already dressed in something more cozy for their day together—a pullover hoodie and black joggers—and creeps over to Kylo’s side of the beds.
“Morning, baby,” he says, loud enough to make Kylo stir, and sits on the edge of the mattress. “I made you breakfast.”
Kylo stretches out, raising his arms over his head with a squeal, before rolling over to face Lathan, peeking out of slitted eyes. “Hm?”
“Breakfast,” Lathan says again, moving a hand from the tray to brush the flipped curls from Kylo’s face. “If you’re hungry.”
“What?” his groggy voice asks, and he sits up to take a proper look, forcing his eyes open. “There’s so much! You didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”
It really is a lot of food, but there’s only one plate of it, and a smaller platter for the stack of French toast. “Caf is closed anyways,” Lathan says with a shrug and sets the food on Kylo’s lap. I still would’ve done this for you, though. “I know you have a big appetite. Your metabolism is through the roof.” Wolf things.
“Thank you,” he laughs, picking up the fork and stabbing a slice of ham. “But, please, have some, too.”
“I snacked as I cooked.” But he takes the remaining length of the bacon strip he nibbled on before, tossing his head back as he breaks off a piece of its crispiness with his teeth. He watches Kylo’s ears fold back as he hums, savouring the meal.
“So…how bad was I actually last night? I think I remember most of it, but I know I tend to talk a lot when I drink.”
Kylo swallows his first bite and smiles as he picks up the mug and sip his tea to wash it down. He cuts into a piece of French toast with the side of his fork before answering. “Oh, I thoroughly enjoyed you last night,” he teases with a mouthful of fluffy, buttery batter. “Damn, this is good.”
“I don’t know if that means I made an ass of myself or not,” Lathan says, tapping the bacon on his lips. His eyes float away, thinking. “About Jake… I shouldn’t have shown the mark. He’s just such a cocky piece of sh—” He cuts himself off, realizing he probably shouldn’t badmouth Kylo’s ex, even if it’s true. “I’m sorry.”
Kylo leans back, nursing his tea, and smirks crookedly. “What do you mean? That was the best part of the night.”
Lathan cocks an eyebrow. “I mean”—he chuckles—“I wasn’t gonna say it myself, but…you were really fucking hot. Claiming me like that.”
Kylo looks down at the steam of his mug a bit bashfully. “It was bound to come out eventually. But I’ll admit, I like being in control of that narrative.”
A slow smile sprawls across Lathan’s face, enveloping him in a sense of pride and deep relief with Kylo’s words. After what happened with Trevor, for Kylo to feel in control of anything is enormous. And Lathan’s more than happy to let him take as much control as he needs. Or wants.
He keeps that feeling to himself, like a little trophy only for his eyes, not wanting to put Kylo on the spot, but hoping that confidence is sprouting again within his core. He tosses the rest of the bacon piece in his mouth, sucking on its flavour as he watches the love of his life chomp away before him on the bed. Kylo eats everything in sight, and Lathan’s glad he could feed that canine appetite—their family grocery bills must have been astronomical when they all lived together.
Licking his chops, Kylo takes the tray and slides off the beds and places it on his desk. When he returns to Lathan, he crouches down and shoves his hands under the bed frame.
“I got something for you,” he says, popping back up with a perfectly wrapped box, finished with a red bow.
Lathan’s eyes light up and he folds an ankle into his thigh. Even though he knew Kylo would, he still finds himself saying, “You didn’t have to do that. It’s more than enough just to have you here. I don’t need anything else.”
The wolf climbs back onto the beds and puts the box before Lathan. “Happy Yule,” he says happily, ignoring him. “My mom helped put it together, then mailed it over so I could keep it a secret.”
Lathan touches his fingertips to the pretty paper. “Seriously? That’s amazing,” he says smally, warmed that his family was part of the thoughts behind this gift. That his family put in effort to help, to mail it for Lathan.
He spins the box and plucks the flaps that are tapped down, careful with the intricate wrapping job and the handmade bow glued to its corner. Inside, nestled amid crinkle paper, is a scarlet, fabric-cover book with ‘My Love’ embossed in gold on the front. Lathan runs his fingers down the velvety cover, over the reflective words in the centre. He opens the book gently, the material creaking with newness, and smiles as he’s greeted with the poem that solidified it all for them: the one Kylo read to Lathan in the library on their first date.
After reading it over again, those memories tickling his mind, he turns the page to find another poem, and then another. He fans through nearly fifty pages of poetry, eyes widening, and looks at Kylo.
“Is this all your writing?”
“Every last one.” Kylo hugs his knees, tucking his chin between them sheepishly. These poems bare his soul open for Lathan. They tell of their story together: the good, the bad, and the triumphant. All imperative to where they are now. Holding their story in his hands—straight from his partner’s heart and soul—makes Lathan, a tall, muscular, dark, and quiet man, giddy. And that’s another new one for him.
He shakes his head minutely, looking back down at all the pages. “Kylo,” he breathes, flipping through the poems, some longer, some only a few lines. His eyes glimmer with awe, mesmerized by his craftiness, his heart and soul on paper, immortalized in a gift. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you put this together.”
“You like it?” Kylo shifts, a smile growing on his half-hidden face as Lathan delights in the pages.
Lathan opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He can’t find the words, any words, to articulate what this actually means to him, so he just leans forward and pulls Kylo into a deep hug. The wolf abandons his knees and instead wraps himself around Lathan, and they hold each other in silent appreciation.
“Can I change what my favourite book is?” he asks, referring back to when they first became roommates, shaking the poetry collection in the air as he talks. “Because it’s this.”
Lathan can’t wait to read them all. And then read them again. To see further into Kylo’s mind, his rawest thoughts. He wants them all. It’s what he’s always wanted.
Kylo blushes and laughs. “Yeah, I guess you can.”
“Well.” Lathan gets off the bed, clutching the book of poetry against his hip, not wanting to part with it. “I guess this kind of goes with part of your gift, too.”
He digs in his standing wardrobe and retrieves a small box, wrapped simply in silver foil. Attached to it is a small red and green envelope with a card inside. He looks at Kylo, sat upright and cross-legged, as he walks back to the bed.
“So, don’t judge me too hard, ‘cause it’s not great. But I tried,” he says, tapping the envelope. He scoots in beside his boyfriend and hands over the envelope, hanging onto the box. Kylo shakes his head with a smile, tearing open the top and wiggling out the card, wedged in because of its 3D holiday cardstock design. Inside is Lathan’s handwriting, down the left side, taking up the whole space:
Nature reigned over
Nurture in my home
Where carnivorous plants
Preyed on young flesh,
Spreading seeds to germinate
And grow like a parasite
Enwrapping my heart
Leeches eat until full
But parasites consume
Until nothing remains;
Its host has no mind, no heart
And is not capable of love
Who knew a certain pitch
Of canine howling
Would wilt the virus and
Repair something
I knew not broken,
Budding new life worth
Protecting as it grows
Lathan watches nervously as Kylo scans the poem, the first time he’s tried to write for him. It took months. For so long he didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t have the capacity to recognize what he wanted to express. And he doesn’t even know if the poem makes sense.
At least, not until Kylo’s eyes glaze over and he blinks profusely through his tears. He looks up at Lathan as one escapes down his cheekbone.
“Hey”—he brushes the tear away with his thumb—“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just…didn’t know how empty I was until you came into my life.”
Kylo nods; he’s heard how Lathan’s parents speak to him, treat him. He knows how absent they are, leaving their son to isolate and become unaware of his loneliness, accepting it as fate. But he must also know how he’s been there for Lathan when he needs it, without fail, without question.
“We’ll water our flowers together,” Kylo says, still nodding. “And if those weeds come back…then I guess we’ll do some pruning.”
Lathan exhales delicately, feeling the blooming inside him already with Kylo’s affirmation. “Then you might like this,” he says, holding up the small silver box for him.
Kylo clears his eyes with the heels of his palms and takes the gift. Lathan puts an arm around his waist, their legs touching as Kylo carefully peels open the silver foil and pops off the lid.
The clear sunlight blanketing their room from the window polishes the simple, matte, silver ring. A thin band around its one edge shines up at them from its jewelry case. Engraved inside the wearable area is a simple line: forever my favourite, with an L initial opposite of the words Lathan hummed drunkenly to Kylo last night as they slow-danced.
“You gave me the idea months ago,” he says, playing with the dahlia necklace he’s still wearing. An actual promise ring.
Kylo’s frozen. Staring at the ring without barely an expression. So Lathan rubs his sides where his hand rests, and it jumpstarts the wolf’s breathing; he takes in a shaky breath as he fumbles with the box to free the band.
“This is where it lives now,” he says, slipping his finger into its hold and admiring its contrasting sheen in the natural light. “I can’t ever take it off, so I guess I’ll just be buried with it.”
Lathan grins and takes Kylo’s pink, teary cheeks in his hand. “I want you to know, though, that you’re not stuck with me. This is my promise to you. Because you’re it for me. I’m committing my life to you, whether I’m in it later on or not.” He laughs hopelessly, but honestly.
Kylo’s face scrunches up, his brows dipping, and his lower lip pouting as Lathan speaks. He nods, holding his breath again, clearly trying to hold back his tears.
“You’re my everything.” He places his hands on top of Lathan’s on his own cheeks. “Thank you.”
Lathan smiles, his heart fluttering with love. He kisses Kylo deeply, the glint off the ring on his finger in his peripheral. People will see them together, knowing they’re for life—thanks to Kylo’s mating bite, and now the ring gifted from Lathan.
Thank you, he thinks, for showing me I can be loved.