Page 131 of Body and Soul

“I, um...” I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “I made this. For all of you.”

Slowly, I lowered the package and held it out to Bryce. He took it gently, almost reverently, and laid it across his lap. With careful fingers, he peeled back the plain brown paper to reveal the painting beneath.

It was a portrait of Shepherd and all his alters. Each alter had been painstakingly rendered in vivid detail—Keres with his gloves and cold, hungry eyes; Shepherd in one of his crisp suits; Azreal with his expression of stoic duty; Bryce with his soft smile and tousled hair; and Dex with his plastic dinosaurs and shy, hopeful gaze.

But it was more than just a physical representation. I had tried to capture the essence of each alter, the core of who they were beneath the masks they wore for the world. Keres's ferocity and loyalty, Shepherd's power and dominance, Azreal's discipline and deeply buried compassion, Bryce's gentleness and surprising strength, Dex's innocence and resilience.

I wasn’t much of a portrait artist, but it was some of my best work ever.

Bryce stared down at the painting, his eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. He traced a finger over each alter's face, lingering on the fine details, the play of light and shadow that made them look so alive, so real.

When he finally looked up at me, his expression was one of pure wonder. “Eli,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “This is... I don't even know what to say. It's incredible.”

I ducked my head, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “It's not that good. I just wanted to do something to show you all how much you mean to me. How grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Bryce set the painting aside with the utmost care before rising to his feet. He stepped close to me, his hands coming up to cradle my face with a gentleness that made my heart ache. “It's perfect,” he whispered fiercely. “You're perfect.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss so tender, so achingly sweet, it brought tears to my eyes. I melted into him, my hands fisting in the soft fabric of his sweater. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, until we were both breathless and trembling.

When we finally pulled apart, Bryce rested his forehead against mine. “I love you, you know. We all do.”

“Azreal doesn’t,” I replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

“He likes you. He’s just…overprotective.” Bryce squeezed my hand. “He’ll come around.”

I hoped he was right because I couldn’t go through another dramatic revelation from Azreal like the last one.

Bryce’s face split into a big grin. “Hey, want to watchElfwith me? It’s my favorite Christmas movie.”

My chest filled with warmth and I couldn’t help but smile back. “I'd love that.”

I woke slowly, likeI’d been half dead. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. For a moment, I simply lay there, savoring the peaceful stillness of the morning.

As I lay there in the quiet bedroom, my mind slowly piecing itself together, I realized I had no idea how long it had been since I last fronted. Time always became a slippery, elusive thing when I went dormant, the days and nights blurring together.

I sat up, running a hand over my face and through my sleep-tousled hair. The simple action felt strange, my limbs heavy and sluggish like they belonged to someone else. It was always an odd sensation, coming back to myself after an extended absence, relearning the rhythms and routines of my own body.

Motes of dust danced in the sunbeams slanting across the room, gilding everything in a soft, buttery light. It lent an almost dreamlike quality to my surroundings, as if the world hadn't quite solidified around me yet. I breathed deeply, letting the peaceful stillness settle into my bones.

Slowly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, the hardwood floor cool beneath my bare feet. I stretched, feeling my joints pop and my muscles flex, shaking off the lingering cobwebs of sleep.

I padded over to the dresser where we kept the well-worn leather journal, a tether that kept us all connected even when we drifted. Flipping it open, I scanned the most recent entries, trying to piece together what I had missed.

Bryce's neat, compact handwriting filled most of the pages. He wrote about taking Eli to see the Christmas lights in the park, their breath fogging in the chilly night air as they sipped hot cocoa and watched the display. He described the soft smile on Eli's face, the way the colorful lights reflected in his eyes, and how he’d enjoyed spending time with him there.

There were entries about quiet evenings spent curled up on the couch, watching cheesy Hallmark movies and laughing at the corny dialogue. Bryce's words painted a picture of cozy domesticity, of two people finding comfort and joy in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

As I turned the pages, a crayon drawing fluttered out from between the sheets. The lines were clumsy and childlike, but I could make out two stick figures holding hands, a lopsided Christmas tree beside them. A wobbly scrawl at the bottom read “Dex and Eli.”

A fond smile tugged at my lips. I was glad Dex had gotten to enjoy the holiday at least a little. Christmas was his second favorite holiday after Halloween, and only because he got free candy on Halloween.

My fingers traced over the waxy lines of crayon, feeling a swell of affection for my youngest headmate. Even with everything going on, Dex still found joy in the little things like Christmas lights and cookies and time spent with Eli.

I carefully tucked the drawing back between the journal pages and kept reading. There were only two entries from Keres in his usual spiky script. The first was early Christmas day, in which he explained what happened at the factory with Eli. Reading that account was difficult, but necessary. I was glad things had worked out between them, but worried it might lead to long-term difficulties in the relationship. If Eli could accept the worst parts of Keres, though, perhaps…

I didn’t want to let myself think it. Didn’t want to hope that perhaps this wonderful, beautiful thing we had could go on forever. It was too much, so I flipped to Keres’s second entry. That one was mostly him demanding that I have Warrick train Eli to use the knives he’d gotten him.

At the end was a single short entry from Azreal that read:

---