Advent Calendar Day 16

 

Good morning! Grab a cup of your favorite hot beverage and settle down for a nice long-ish read set in the world of Sort of Stranger Than Fiction. I'm not sure what it is about Karl's character, but he has inspired no fewer than two (possibly more!) holiday codas. :-) 

Today's offering is from another first time contributor: Almathea. She not only tackled her first holiday short story, she did it in English, which is not her native language! It's so wonderful that we've had so many delightful and heart-warming contributions this year. It's always appreciated, but something about you all finding time to participate in such a hellish year, makes it even more special. <3 

So without further adieu...

 SORT OF STRANGER THAN A CHRISTMAS FICTION

 

“Once upon a time in North Pole, there was an Ice Troll living all alone in a weirdly carved ice cave. This Troll was always angry and grumpy, for he only had is loneliness to accompany him. So he spent his days fetching ice and sculpting it with the craft of his hands and the twisted in his mind and giving it the sinister shape of his unfulfilled dreams…”

“You stupid moron! If you were any dumber, you’d start doing photosynthesis!”
Karl Hagar’s eyes drilled through the equally disgusted eyes staring back at him from the mirror. He was so sick with himself. With his inability to say the right words. How could he be the rising star of the MFA Writing Program, so at ease with written words, and then so awkward with spoken ones?

When he was writing, words were flowing easily. They were pouring from him to his computer screen like a tsunami, expressing all his anger in his murder stories. Anger for everything he didn’t have. Like friends. Support. Love… He didn’t hate the characters he murdered in his tales. But he liked his killers most because they were misfits. Unhappy weirdos full of loneliness and pain. Like Karl. Writing was his catharsis. A way to both express and punish himself. Talk about self-loathing…

But this emotional way out was a double edged knife, as he had finally realized. The eerie stories and gruesome deaths made people really uncomfortable. They only saw the cruelty in them and tend to wonder about Karl’s sanity. Add to that his cold looks, his deep shyness and his total inability to say his mind and one would only understand why people were avoiding him, burying his dreams of a new life here in San Francisco in the process. He had thought that leaving Peabody would allow him to be himself. Not being “the Hagar son” anymore. Not being the only single gay guy in town – and in the closet. He had thought these were the cause of his unhappiness. Now he knew better. HE was his own curse.

Karl closed his eyes and laid his head against the cold surface of the mirror. Defeated.  He could still hear himself saying “We should date Killian. Spend Christmas together. You owe me since I saved you last week”. Still see Killian’s lovely face ignite until it was almost as red as his hair. And then there had been this final glare full of wrath and loathing, so alien on Killian’s sweet features telling him what a lower being he was before he briskly turned around and disappeared into the winter night. Out of Karl’s life.

“It’s Ethan all over again” whispered Karl. And he let himself remember. 

************************************ 

“…One day, as he was fetching more ice at the bottom of a remote fjord, the troll saw a Christmas Elf gracefully picking edelweiss on the cliff. He watched this rare occurrence with wonder at first and then horror when the elf lost his grip and tumbled down. The troll refused to see the magical creature die and used all his power on ice to create a thick pillow of snow where the elf was going to crash.

After getting back on his feet and checking that he was still alive, the elf assessed his rescuer. “Thank you for saving my life, M. Troll” said the elf. “I owe you a Christmas wish for this. My name is Lear from the Sunny Elves Tribe.” The troll grunted. “And you are?” insisted the elf. It was hard to form a word after so many years of silence and now the troll had to struggle with his own tongue just to crow his name. “Karrel.” The elf appeared jolly after this inelegant introduction. “Do you have a wish?” Oh yes! The troll had a wish. He wanted this cheerful creature to become his friend and fill his loneliness with joy. He wanted to have someone to talk to. He wanted to carve beautiful statues instead of twisted ones! But it was too much to say for a troll who had spent years without speaking. The best he could manage was “Tomorrow. Come back.” The elf seemed to understand all the feelings hidden under these three words and giggled happily. “This is hardly a wish my friend. I’d be delighted to come back to my savior for as long as you can put up with me…”

Karl was in a bad mood when he left M. Carson’s office on December the 16^th. Writing a Christmas short story due before the Christmas Holidays?  Without a killing Santa? Not even one teeny tiny murder with poison? But full of magic and feel good? Really? Jeez, Karl didn’t have a clue about how to find the beginning of an idea. But Carson had been adamant: Karl had to prove himself in a completely different genre if he wanted to get an A. “Look around you and you’ll find your inspiration” Carson had said.

Yeah! Of course. And I will see a Christmas elf appear out of thin air?

Just to prove how ludicrous this was, Karl looked around him… And saw The Elf missing a step from the steep staircase and plummeting to the ground, bewilderment rounding his eyes and mouth. Without even thinking, Karl threw himself in the trajectory of the human missile like he used to do on the football field and caught The Elf in the cradle of his arms before they ended up lying on the ground, Karl’s lungs void of air. He didn’t know if it was from the physical shock of the catch or because of the gorgeous hazel eyes focused on him. Maybe both.

With a shaking hand, Killian O’Leary –aka The Elf- pushed back his copper bangs. And then he smiled! He smiled to Karl!

“Whoopsie! That was a close call. I’m always so clumsy but this time… I thought it was all he wrote for me. Thank you for saving the damoiseau in distress Karl.” And then Killian did the most unexpected thing of all: he kissed Karl on the cheek.

Karl couldn’t speak. Not because of his usual struggle for words. Just because his mind has suddenly been turned into a blank sheet. All he could do was to absorb every detail of the moment trough his senses. The warmth of Killian’s body pressed against his. The warmth of these hazel eyes dotted with golden specks like the stars in a clear sky. The warmth left by the velvety lips still tickling on his cheek. The warmth in the sweet voice while saying his name…

Of course he had noticed Killian from Day 1. Karl had always had a soft spot for gingers with hazel eyes. But this one was definitely breath-taking with his beautiful face and lean frame. Graceful and blazingly ethereal. Hence the nickname he had secretly given him: The Elf. Karl had a serious crush for Killian but never dared to approach him. The ginger was a different type of being: always cheerful, surrounded by friends, talkative and openly gay. He was really talented for writing, but favored comedies with gay romance in them. They were just coming from two different worlds.

Except that Killian was in his arms at this very moment. And it went all supernova in Karl’s brain.

Killian chuckled. “You’re comfy and I’m certainly not complaining about you saving my neck but I think we’re drawing a bit of attention onto ourselves here.”

The words snapped Karl’s neurons back to functioning and just a quick look confirmed that all the people in the hall were staring at them, a few of them shell-shocked. Karl grunted and started to twist to extract him from under The Elf. Still giggling, Killian stood up and held a hand to Karl. “Hi, I’m Killian O’Leary. Let me help you big guy.” When they were both back on their feet with the crowd around them thinning now that the show was over –and with the next classes about to begin- Karl finally answered “Karl Hagar”. Then he realized that he must seem like a retard, stating what was already obvious. But Killian’s smile was genuine and kind when he said “Oh I know who you are! We share the same Creative Writing class. And your writing skills are certainly… 

Impressing.” Karl didn’t know what that really meant so he just grunted. “Look Karl, I have to go to my Literature class now.” Of course thought Karl, though the ginger was not finished yet. “But I’d like to repay you for what you did. Not that I could ever really repay you… What about having a coffee after classes?” Stupor muted Karl who could only manage to nod. “You know what? Give me your phone number and I’ll text you”. Like a robot Karl recited the numbers while Killian tapped them into his smartphone before rushing to his class on a last “See you!”

Two hours and six texts later –texts were good to Karl- they met at a coffee house. Though Karl felt awkward and barely dared to speak, favoring monosyllabic answers, it all went surprisingly smoothly, thanks to The Elf’s easy going and chatty nature. And he felt something like joy when Killian proposed him to do it again on the day after. After all, it was the closest thing Karl ever had to a date…

“…And the day after Lear came back to spend one hour with the taciturn troll. And the day after. And the next one, as Karrel always asked him to. Day after day, hour after hour, the troll’s throat opened up to let more words come out. And finally he was able to explain why he was living alone so far away from his people. Karrel was one of the three sons of the Ice Trolls King, Hagard, a hard man who focused all his considerable strength and gold to get more of each. If he had ever loved his third son, he never showed it. Actually he seemed to hate everything about him: his desire to craft ice instead of gaining wealth, his shyness with others while he could crush them with his regal power and –worst of all- he sensed his last son may have sympathy for Christmas beings! So, feeling that each one his words was cause for his father’s ire, the troll stopped talking until he forgot how to speak. And ultimately he left for his lonely cave where he could express himself in silence through ice. The elf always listened with patience and compassion and even wonder about his craft and his being an Ice Prince...”

For the following days it became a routine for them to meet at the coffee house at the end of the day. At first all they did was small talk. Ages. Origins. Hobbies. Living places. Favorite movies and songs. Reverting on the day classes. Innocuous topics that allowed Karl to feel at ease and speak without fear, though he never was loquacious. But he really enjoyed these meetings. They were the best part of his days. It felt right and good like… Having a friend?

Gradually they started discussing more personal topics. Killian told Karl about the day he came out and how supportive his family had been. How much he was missing his dad who had passed away from kidney cancer a few years ago. All the shenanigans he did with his siblings.

And Karl opened up like he had never before. At least, as much as he could: with short sentences and a clipped voice.  He told Killian how it was to grow up in a small town where everybody knew who he was. He talked about his life in the closet and how he had been turned down by his first crush. And he finally talked about his Father comparing him to his brothers. How he always disappointed him and was told to man up. Karl had never told about this to anyone and it felt great to finally take this weight out of his chest. More than great: freeing!

But the best part was that Killian never expressed pity. He had this way to see the best in everything and cheer Karl up. Sometimes by saying something positive like “That sucks. But hey! Look where it brought you. On the right path to become a writer!” Some other times by making silly jokes that always made Karl smile and snort.

But he really laughed when Killian told him “Heck! They call you The Ice Prince but you’re actually coming for a troll horde!” Karl had never heard anything so silly and couldn’t help laughing out loud, discovering the sound of his own adult laugh. “Trolls it is! That’s a good one. But what is it with this Princy thing?” he said when he finally could speak again.
“You really don’t know? You’re so handsome but always act so cold and aloof, that the people in CreaWri have nicknamed you The Ice Prince”.
Karl felt a bit at loss. “Are you sure? Because the last time I wore a black outfit, I heard some of them say “Beware! Here comes the Gestapo!” It was… Very unpleasant. So a prince, even and icy one, that’s… Better.”
Killian’s phone beeped. It was time to part.
But as they were saying their goodbyes in the parking lot, Killian whispered with a smile almost mysterious “You know, I may have been the first to call you The Ice Prince…” And with this he climbed into his car and left.
Karl remained there for a short while pondering over these last words, wondering if this was an opening to something more intimate, his heart warming in his chest as he watched His Elf drove by.

“…On the sixth day, the troll asked “How is it? Happiness?” This was a tricky question for Lear. How could he explain such a complex and glorious feeling to one who had never experienced it? To one who knew only rejection and frustration? He couldn’t find the words for it so he did the unthinkable. “Let me show you” he said while gently putting his hand to the troll’s chest and pressing it just above his heart. Then he thought about all the past Christmas, the merriment, the friendship the cinnamon rolls. Lear conjured all his best memories and sent them like a glowing ghost into Karrel’s heart. The troll felt like a burning sun was melting the ice surrounding his heart. Nobody had even ever touched him and there was the touch, and all this warmth and joy he didn’t know about. It was the most extraordinary feeling! And it was too much. Too much at once. The troll broke the contact, reeled back and after stuttering his usual “Tomorrow. Come back” he ran away...”

On the next evening, Karl’s chest was still tingling with warmth. And something that appeared a lot like hope.
Karl ordered his usual large espresso. Killian, who changed his order every day, went for a hot cocoa with whipped cream, cinnamon and caramel chips. It was part of their habits now. They ordered their drinks, found an isolated table and enjoyed their beverage in silence for a few minutes. Or comparative silence, as His Elf had a tendency to moan every time he tasted something he really liked.

That was one thing Karl never tired of: this ability Killian had to enjoy small things to the fullest. Like every little nice thing brought him a huge pleasure. It was so endearing. And strange too. But mostly endearing. God I have it bad! Everything about this guy enchants me. Not to mention what these moans of pure pleasure did to his crotch… Karl wiggled in his chair.

“What is it with you and sugar?” he asked to end with this torture.

Killian’s greedy eyes met his. “Oh man! This is not sugar, this is pure bliss! It’s about mixing tastes and textures. It’s about the cream and caramel melting in the chocolate. It’s like… Like a perfect kiss! Wanna taste?”

Oh yes I want to taste, but not from the cup… Still he took the cup and then a sip. It was tasty indeed. Too sweet for his taste but nice. He hesitated, braced himself and finally asked “Seriously, how is it to kiss a man?”

Killian froze. “I thought you were gay! Was it some kind of sick homophobic game?”

Karl’s eyelids fluttered. “Yes. I mean, I am. Gay. It’s not a game. And certainly not a homophobic one!”

His Elf’s posture softened. “So… Are you telling me that you’ve never been kissed at 28?”

Karl nodded curtly. Deadly ashamed. Thinking Killian would laugh so hard about how pathetic he was. Knowing he should have never asked.

“Woaw! I knew you didn’t have much experience but I didn’t realize… Sorry for thinking you were making fun of me; for believing that you could play… well forget it.” Killian paused. “Honestly, I don’t know how to describe a kiss. With the right guy it’s sweet but devastating. It’s like a prelude and like sex at the same time. Oh! But then you don’t know about sex either…”

Redder than Killian’s hair, Karl shook his head.

“Hmm… I suppose you’ll have to find out for yourself…”

Karl wanted to vanish. Now.

“Hey, don’t be ashamed. We all have started as virgins you know,” Killian said with a wink. “And with your good looks I wouldn’t worry if I were you”. The understanding and praise lightened a bit Karl’s discomfort.
“Hey! You didn’t tell me: have you finally started writing your Christmas story?” Okay. Not a bad move for a change of topic. This was safer ground. Karl could relax at last, while bitching about the assignment he had only two days left to do and had not even started.

As usual, they went back together at the parking lot and Karl escorted Killian to his battered Toyota Corolla. When the door was opened, Karl stepped back, as he always did. But Killian grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’ve got the answer to your question.” Before Karl could even understand what His Elf was talking about, he felt Killian plastering his body against his. The next second thin arms were around his neck and lips were softly caressing his. At first Karl didn’t know what to do. Then instinct kicked in and he embraced the lean body and lost himself into his first kiss.

It was intoxicating. Killian’s lips were so much softer and plumper than he had imagined. The flat body pressed against his in all the right places, like the yin and the yang. And when Killian’s tongue invaded his mouth, he tasted like chocolate, cream, caramel and cinnamon. Pure bliss. Soon, Karl was lost in their panting breaths and entwined limbs, giving as much as he received, pressing Killian between his body and the old car, his hands roaming every place he could touch trying to get to the skin, rubbing his hardening dick on the other’s stomach, bathing in the scent and taste of the man he loved.

The man he LOVED… Oh my god!

Karl jerked back, struck by the lightning of his epiphany. I was not a crush. Not anymore. It was love. Still breathless he stared into the eyes of an equally breathless Killian. How an entrancing face he had with his lips and cheeks all rosy from their shared kiss.
My first kiss. With my first love.

It was something he had waited for all his life. And suddenly he felt unprepared. Terrified by something utterly unknown. So out of his league.

Karl staggered back. He mumbled “This is… Was… That was great… See you tomorrow, okay?” Without waiting for an answer he rushed to his TR7 sports car and fled the scene of his enlightenment under Killian’s startled gaze.

“… On the seventh day, the troll was still giddy with amazement and wonder. He knew he could never go back to his silent cave and twisted statues after… After that. He wanted more joy. More happiness. He wanted to spend every single second of his life with the bearer of such light, he wanted to become a part of Christmas. That was his Wish. The wish from his heart. But it was so much more than the usual Christmas wish! It had nothing to do with “I want a new chisel” for Santa’s sake! And he feared refusal so much that the words came all wrong: “I know my Wish. I want you to be my slave as I own your life.” The troll realized what he had said only a second before Lear vanished...”

That night, Karl barely slept. He was so overwhelmed with it all. And so afraid too. 

Afraid that Killian had kissed him for no other reason than helping a friend. Or that he was looking for casual sex. Afraid to hope and see his hope crushed. Afraid to lose his first friendship and afraid to ruin his first love. Afraid of what might and what might not be.

He wanted to hope. But he knew he wasn’t exactly a keeper.

And that kiss! It had been everything. Like His Elf had said: “sweet and devastating”. He still had Killian’s taste rolling on his tongue and Killian’s scent lingering on his sweater put down next to his pillow. Just remembering Killian’s arms caressing and kneading his back, his moans or the way he had rubbed his erection against Karl’s thigh made him hard again. That night he did two things. For one, he decided to ask Killian out. Only his sheets remember the other one.

On the morning, Karl had barely slept and was unable to focus on his classes. All he could do was dream of all the things he wanted now. More kisses. Many more. Kisses were amazing. And sex, because it was said to be even better. Just thinking about sex with His Elf was a liability for his jeans buttons to pop out so hard they would ended up in orbit. But more than everything he longed for being loved in return. He needed a chance to build a real relationship with Killian. To cuddle in front of the TV. To share the intimacy of sleeping in each other’s arms. To spend Christmas together.

He spent most of his day looking at the time that passed so slowly, barely able to contain his eagerness to be with Killian again. Daydreaming about the coming evening. Too bad they didn’t have Creative Writing on that day. He even craned his neck in the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of His Elf without luck. But as the afternoon went by, Karl started to feel worried and unsettled. He remembered how Ethan had turned him down, kindly but firmly. His old fears crept back. And what if Killian laughed at him, thought he was preposterous?  Or was just not interested in him? Suddenly the ticking of the clock sped up. And when it was time to leave for their coffee house, Karl was a bundle of nerves. And a little late.

Seeing Killian ordering for both of them when he entered the café didn’t calm him. No more than the wave of a steaming cup and smiling welcome he received. “Hi there!  I hope you didn’t decide to try something else today, ‘cause here is your large espresso!”

It was only when they sat that Karl realized Killian’s smile was a bit forced and his silent slightly awkward. Because of the way I fled yesterday?  Or because he’s getting bored with me? They took a few sips in silence. There was no moaning today.

“Hmm… Nope. Maple syrup is not a good match with coffee.” Another silence. Karl was trying to hold his countenance.

“So… Are you going back to Peabody for the Holidays?” asked Killian.

“No. I don’t want to. I will stay here. You?”

“I wish I could go back to Denver spend Christmas with my family. But that’s a hell of a drive and planes are too expensive for us. So I guess I’ll stay here too and maybe spend the day with a friend…”

That’s my queue! I just have to tell him that I’d love to be the one spending Christmas with him because he has become so important to me. That I want to date him. It’s not that hard! Come on, man up!
Karl opened his mouth and completely different words came out. “We should date Killian. Spend Christmas together. You owe me since I saved you last week.”

One minute later, Killian was gone.

“…And so, Karrel was back to his loneliness and the cold of the cave that he couldn’t call home again, for his home was where the elf was now. Except that he would be less than unwelcome there after the stupid offensive words born of his stupid aching fears. He had lost everything. He felt sick with himself, regretful and more miserable than ever. The amount of his loss was too much to bear. He couldn’t live with it. He had to make amends no matter the cost, even if the elf would never forgive him. And he had to find a way to do it without his traitorous mouth to fail him again. So he started to express his feelings in the best way he could: by carving ice. He put all his present remorse into a statue of Lear, but also everything he had started to feel since meeting the wonderful elf. He created an artwork that was not the exact replica of the magical being, but the reflection of the elf into Karrel’s heart. Gorgeous. Warm. Glowing. Loving…”

Karl left his bathroom and sat on his bed. Alone in the dark. As always. He had fucked it all up. Again. But it was worse. So much worse. He could see now that Killian had been hinting about spending Christmas together. The same Killian that had invited him for a coffee at the beginning and knew his name. The one who had called him The Ice Prince. The one who had kissed him.
Killian had liked him. Had been attracted to Karl. But… Yeah, past tense…

Karl felt broken. Maybe he should call Killian and try to apologize and explain… But no. He would probably say something mean again. Make it worse. If that was even possible. Maybe he should write him a letter. Written words were his allies. So yes he could write him a letter, a beautiful letter where he would be able to express all his love and regret. A love letter to His Elf.
Yes he could do this! He could write…

Wait! Write? To My Elf? Just before Christmas?

Karl knew what he had to do. He was going to write the Christmas story! Not to get an A, but to get a chance to redeem himself. And maybe, just maybe, get a chance at happiness.
Karl sat at his computer and started to type. The story was coming to him so naturally. An easy flow of words about a troll and a Christmas elf pouring from his heart.

By 11 P.M. he was done. Or almost done. Before he could second guess his action, he took his phone and typed “Please, I know you’re mad at me. But please read this. You’re the only one who can tell me how the story ends…” He put his short story in attachment and sent it to Killian.

Afterwards he remained there, his eyes locked on his computer clock, then on his screen saver, seeing nothing. Just waiting. Shallow.


“…The troll was exhausted when he finished the statue and truly it was a masterpiece. But he was not done yet. He cleared his throat, enchanted the statue and said “I’m so sorry Lear. I didn’t know how to tell you that for me you ARE happiness. My only happiness. You’re the blazing sun that melts my heart. You are everything to me, as unworthy as I am. I was so afraid to tell you these words that I said horrible things instead. If you could ever forgive me, I would spend my life atoning. Will you be all my future Christmas?” Karrel gathered his last strengths to summon an ice wind strong enough to carry the enchanted ice statue to the elf’s doormat. And then he collapsed on the ground and waited for his fate. He waited for what felt like years. Not daring to hope for a Christmas miracle. Not daring to let his fears sneak in back again. Barely daring to breathe. He waited and waited. Finally he realized that a snow petrel had entered his cave and landed on one of his twisted statues, glaring at him with a vellum roll in his beak. With a shaking hand, the troll took the message, unrolled it and read the answer…”

It was past midnight when Karl’s phone rang. “Lothlórien's Theme”. Killian then.

Karl was astounded. In his core he had known that Killian would answer him. Because he was a kind man. But he had expected a short text. Not a phone call.

After remaining still, now he was shaking and he fumbled with his phone to take the call before it went to voicemail. His voice too was quivering when he picked up.

“Killian?”

He could hear muffled sobs on the other end of the line.

Had it succeeded in making it worse after all?

“Please Kil, talk to me…”

Another sob. Then Killian’s constricted voice.

“You’re so dumb!”

Okay. Nothing new here.

Then a trembling laugh.

“It’s beautiful Karl. It’s the… most wonderful thing that was ever done for me.”

“I… Thank you. I’m so sorry Kil. You are My Elf. Always. But the ending is yours.”

Another laugh, less trembling. Merrier.

Karl braced himself.

“You’re really really dumb! It’s a Christmas story! Of course there’s a happy ending. I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes. And for the record, I’m in love with you!”