2023 Advent Challenge

It was hard to say whether the cold had come early this year. Vallis was prone to spells of snow throughout its winters – though they had been far more common up in Shacklestone, which was now reduced to little more than a ghost city.

Nobody ever seemed to remember the exact date upon which it began to feel cold; some said November, while others insisted that the last breath of autumn didn’t leave the air until December. Regardless, yearly contemplation on the matter was inevitable. Rex’s last few days at work were usually spent listening to his colleagues talk about the weather, and how they already had central heating on at home, and how ‘It seems chillier this year, doesn’t it, Greg?’

Rex walked into the staff room and spoke before Greg could: ‘No, it doesn’t. It feels the same as usual. Get better small talk, Vincent.’

Vincent, rather than looking put off by this interruption, appeared delighted to have another voice to compete with. ‘Nonsense, Rex, it’s three degrees out there! I woke up to frost all over the lawn this morning!’

‘And that’s what happened this time last year, too.’

‘It did not. I remember very clearly.’

‘I have to agree with him, Rex,’ said the aforementioned Greg. ‘It’s much colder than it was last year.’

Rex cast his mind back in an effort to recall what he colleagues obviously could, then, unable to remember, let the subject drop. ‘If you say so,’ he grumbled with poor grace.

‘You’re just immune to the freezing conditions because you came from Shacklestone,’ Vincent teased.

‘Wouldn’t be surprised. The godawful place was usually buried under six inches of snow by now.’

‘Sounds bloody horrible,’ said Greg. ‘I hate the cold.’

Rex left the two men to their rambling while he got himself a drink from the coffee machine. Holding a flimsy paper cup and taking a sip of liquid that was almost tasteless to him, he knew that his coworkers were right; any idiot could see that it was freezing this year. He, too, had woken up to a sheet of sparkling frost covering everything outside, and watched his breath turn to white clouds as he walked across it.

He wasn’t in denial. The fact that he needed to bundle up in a long coat and thick gloves before leaving the house showed that he was fully aware of the cold. But for some reason, it wasn’t bothering him as much this year. Normally, the onset of winter made him feel vaguely morose, especially when Christmas came around.

‘So, Rex…’ he heard Vincent say a moment later. ‘Owel living with you now, is she?’

Rex’s unimpressed gaze lifted over the rim of his coffee cup. Vincent just smiled innocently.

‘Word gets around. I’m glad you two are happy together.’

Hoping that this didn’t mean the entire local community had been aware of his embarrassing crush on Owel for the last five years, Rex finished his beverage and left the room, glad that he had the excuse of an imminent lesson to teach.

---

Rex opened the front door and was immediately greeted by the sound of a crackling wood fire and the smell of mulberry candles. He wiped his shoes absentmindedly on the welcome mat before advancing inside, kicking them off down the hall and shrugging his coat onto a hanger.

A blur of green hair and purple sweater erupted from the direction of the living room, something he was barely given time to process before a small figure collided with him and gave him a surprisingly strong hug.

‘Hello, Uncle Rex.’ The girl’s voice was very quiet, but the grinning face that accompanied it was full of confidence. Armin’s kid wasn’t much of a talker, but that didn’t mean she was timid. Apparently she had punched a boy for trying to steal her toy airplane last week.

‘Hello, Esme,’ he replied, hearing the fondness in his own gruff tones and resigned to the fact that everyone else could too. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Mum and Dad went to buy my Christmas presents,’ said Esme.

‘Oh, I see. They dropped you off here so you won’t see what your presents are. Very clever.’

A new voice rose up, this one carrying a faint, lilting accent and a warmth that eclipsed the fire. ‘She’s been helping me set up the decorations. It’s been lovely, hasn’t it, Esme?’

The child nodded. She then stepped away from Rex, allowing Owel to approach him instead. The fairy lights strung up along the hall were reflected in her glasses, and she smelled faintly of cinnamon.

‘Good day?’ she asked.

‘Pleasant enough,’ he said, which they both knew was his way of saying it had been good. ‘Nobody burned the place down or smuggled in any drugs.’

She smirked and embraced him. Rex – who was still reeling over the very presence of her in his house, the very idea that she would be here every day when he came home from work – comfortably wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the physical affection that, for so many years, he had rejected from everyone save Armin.

He had never expected to create a bond with anyone besides his best friend. Life hadn’t been kind to him, and even Armin had taken several years to really get through his defences. The idea of another person managing the same feat had seemed absurd. Only in another life.

But he hadn’t felt this content in a long time.

She eventually pulled back, smiling and giving him a brief peck on the lips, and he wondered if she knew – or even suspected – how much he was struggling to comprehend her existence.

‘Well then,’ he said. ‘Shall we have a look at these decorations you two have put up?’

‘Yeah! Look at the tree!’ piped up Esme, dashing into the living room before either of the adults could respond.

The next ten minutes were spent leading Rex around the house, proudly showing off all of the lights, trees, baubles and stars that now adorned every room. It truly was remarkable how much Esme and Owel had managed to get done in just a few hours. Afterwards, they congregated in the kitchen to make cookies at the request of the ever-hungry dragon child.

‘Shame neither of us can actually taste these!’ said Owel with wistful amusement.

Rex threw a handful of chocolate chips into the mixing bowl. ‘I’m sure Esme will happily eat them all by herself.’

‘Well, yes. But still.’

The cookies, once in the oven, gave off an aroma that even someone with no need for food could agree was delightful. It mixed with the heady scent of mulberry candles and burning wood, and the sounds of laughter and chatter, and filled the house with a warmth that wasn’t just physical. It ignited something in Rex that he had never truly felt before. Comforting, domestic bliss. The feeling of having a family that wasn’t completely screwed up.

The universe had decided that it wasn’t too late for him to be happy, after all.