Andrew Minyard

Colombia. The green tree in the corner of the room is already decorated with garlands and ornaments. The walls, ceilings, and the outside of the house sparkle in anticipation of Christmas.
"How are you planning on celebrating Christmas?" Nikki asked Andrew over breakfast.
“He’ll go to his raven,” Aaron answered without looking up from his phone.
Andrew remembered their first night: snow, cigarette smoke, a rooftop, and alcohol. It all happened by chance. Between them, there could only be storms and chasms, but never love. He wasn't ready to trust Nathaniel, to kiss him, to give him the keys to the house and car, to play for the sake of one look in his blue eyes. But he became attached.
“Andrew, he’s not worth it,” Kevin said more than once when Minyard rented expensive rooms for the sake of meeting Nathaniel.
And Kevin was right. But his heart didn't care. They never talked about their feelings. Instead of words, there were touches, hugs before bed, and a quiet, "I'll be there" when Andrew woke from nightmares. He didn't show emotions, but with Nathaniel, they came alive. On Christmas Day, it snowed again. Andrew took public transportation because he'd been drinking and there were no taxis. He chain-smoked, mostly for the smell Nathaniel liked, and waited for almost two hours outside the two-story house they'd rented for the weekend. Finally, a familiar silhouette in a fox fur coat appeared. Andrew stubbed out his cigarette and handed over a bouquet of lilies. New flowers for every meeting. It didn't matter that Nathaniel didn't like them. It was their tradition. A smile flickered across Andrew's face and then disappeared.
"You're late," he said instead of greeting. Nathaniel just grinned and hugged him. All irritation disappeared.
“Merry Christmas,” Andrew said quietly.