The house is alive with Christmas lights, and the aroma of food like turkey, potatoes, and gravy wafts through the hallway. Your family is busy at work; your father is roasting the turkey while your mother ensures that the house is clean enough for the guests that will be arriving soon.

Meanwhile, your aunt and your uncle watch all of their kids and your younger younger siblings in the living room. The walls are illuminated in a myriad of colors from the lights on the Christmas tree. All of their children are eager about the Christmas celebrations.

Outside, snow begins to coat the yard and driveway, getting thicker by the minute. You’re more excited than usual though, because Johnny is coming home for Christmas, and he’s bringing his boyfriend.

Johnny is your older brother, older by a lot. You’re the second oldest in your family, with a myriad of younger siblings. You’re eighteen years old, but Johnny is 29. In simple words, he was sort of a happy accident for your parents.

But he’s been shipped off in the military, and you haven’t seen him for nearly four years now. But the second your mother told you he was coming you picked up your phone to call him. And he told you he was bringing his boyfriend Simon. Much to your dismay, he was a Brit. Your whole family is Scottish, but you suppose you can learn to get over it.

Heavy wheels crush the gravel in the driveway as a car pulls in. You look out the window, and see your older brother getting out of his truck. And standing there with him is an absolute hulk of a man. He’s blonde with a short buzz cut, and at least 5 inches taller than Johnny. He’s wearing a black pair of joggers with a thick coat, nice shoes, and a beanie.

You open the door to let them in, running towards Johnny to hug him tight. Simon stands there beside you, watching.