The Boy [mxb]

11

The Big Apple is beautiful this time of year. There are fairy lights strung up everywhere, wrapped around trees and framing shop windows. The only downside is the traffic. It's been constant stop and go, tight, narrow roads jammed with cars parked on both sides, and kids, bikers and pedestrians jumping in the way to the point where I'm wondering why I even took the car.

Ciel stands by as I pay the city parking toll. It'll be a bit of a walk to the store from here, but the store lot was full.

"Whaddaya say, Ciel, should I go around looking for parking violations?" I stick my tongue out and loop my arm around his shoulders.

Ciel rolls his eyes and shoves me playfully away, but lets my arm settle around his shoulders again.

His eyes are wide with awe at the magical splendour and beauty of the decorations we peruse. When he sees a set of multicolored Christmas lights with programmable dynamic modes, sixteen million colours and a meteor shower rain effect, he tugs on my sleeve and says we have to have it.

I already have lights, I try to tell him. But Ciel looks at me and says in the pettiest voice I have ever heard that the neighbours' lights are better. And he's not wrong; everyone knows there's an unofficial competition each year for the best Christmas lights setup on the block. So those go in the cart, along with some other decorations for the house and tree.

I've heard that both NYC Trees and SoHo have good trees. As Ciel and I peruse the selections, a sales rep explains the things to look for. Size, health, freshness, a strong fragrance, and beautiful needles. Once we've made a decision, I pay and schedule a delivery.

We head back to the car, the night air crisp and tinged with the smell of petrol, the sparkling of lights in store windows enchanting.

Ciel is sleepy, leaning into my side.

"What're you gonna do when we get home?" I murmur as we walk back to the car.

"Brush my teeth," Ciel smiles softly.

"And what else?"

"Wash my face."

"Good boy."

First, however, Ciel and I decorate the house with the snow globes, tinkling bells, tinsel, delicate snowflakes, and scented candles we bought.

I leave him gently propping up the stuffed toys - a little snowmen, a big snowman and a puppy - on the mantelpiece, and go outside to run through the 9PM routine. It's the same one we encourage civilians to go through in order to deter crime. Guns and valuables removed from cars, keys removed from cars, shed locked, car doors locked. I head back inside and make sure the house doors are all locked, and the fire alarm is functioning properly.

Ciel is tucked into my bed with the puppy, comfy and cozy. Someday I'll lay down the law in this house, tell him he really shouldn't be sleeping in my bed. But I don't feel like being a jackass cop with him right now. Maybe after Christmas. 

The uneasy feeling from before has all but evaporated by the time I've made my rounds. I cross over to the floor-to-ceiling living room window, draw the curtains, and peer outside at the street.