doubt

After managing to get untangled from his mess of knotted yarn, Mira had given it another try. He had kept the newly rolled yarn very close to his side, wanting to make sure there would be no other incidents like the one he had put himself through. He was rather thankful for Cyrille’s help, had told him as much once he’d been untangled completely, just before he’d been left on his own.

He had worked several more hours on his personal project, knowing that if he didn’t work on it during most of his free time, it was likely he never would get done in time for the holidays. This wasn’t something he was looking forward to, he wanted to give this one particular gift to his brother and he wanted to do that at Christmas.

He paused after a couple of hours, looking at the long whatever it was that dangled from his working needles. He was no expect, it was uneven in places and there almost looked to be holes in other places. It was ugly, he knew it was absolutely ugly and he loathed himself for being able to admit it.

Could he give something this ugly to his brother as a gift? He wanted something special, handmade but obviously this wasn’t going to work out. As it was, it was barely wide enough to be considered a blanket though it certainly was long enough. Maybe if he finished up this one, did another one and then another, he could try to find means to stitch it all together, or whatever the term was for knitting things together.

Tired and exhausted from his ordeal with the untangling and then who knew how many hours of knitting without much of a pause, he put it all away, carefully as he did so. He didn’t really want to ruin it though it was ugly enough it felt ruined all by itself. Without so much as a glance back to the whole red lump sitting not far from his bed, he rolled over and curled up, willing himself to sleep.

When morning came, Mira eased out of bed. His legs wobbled briefly under him, reminding him that he’d spent a couple of hours, at least, standing still, trying to untangle himself until Cyrille had come to help him. He sat back down on the edge of his bed and massaged his feet and calves briefly. He felt absolutely exhausted and had a feeling he looked it. When he looked at the bundle of red knitted yarn, sadness swelled in him. He wouldn’t be able to pull it off, he wouldn’t manage this blanket even with all the time in the world. Those were the words that swam around in his head as he went into the bathroom to wash up a bit and came back out again to his room to dress up for the day.

As they all piled up in the car, Mira still nibbling at a piece of toast since he’d gotten up almost late, compared to the rest of their little household, he tried not to think about the yarn, about that blanket that wouldn’t be. He pushed it as far as he could out of his mind and forgot about it for the time being, at the very least for the rest of his day.

The chilled air in the library helped to keep him moving. Despite the heaters, most of the windows were letting in little drafts of more than cold air. He kept his coat on for the first hour or so but his constant moving back and forth to get books placed back where they belonged eventually warmed him enough that he hung his coat up with the other three. He rubbed his arms over his covered arms to make sure he was sufficiently warm without and went back to placing books.

“How did it go last night after the untangling?” Cyrille eventually stepped up to him, picking up books from the cart to help place them up. Some went to places Mira couldn’t reach and he was glad for a little bit of help, it was better than no help at all.

He shrugged however, rubbing his eyes. His lack of sleep was trying to catch back up to him, it was somewhat unpleasant. “It looks terrible, it’s not wide enough to be a blanket, I’ve dropped loops and doubled some without meaning to and it’s just, it’s ugly.”

Cyrille frowned as his somewhat younger friend choked slightly on his words. He could understand how much it meant to want to create a gift with his hands. He’d done it once or twice with Magali, with poor results since, much like Mira it seemed, he’d picked projects that he wasn’t exactly good and he’d started them far too late and too close to the gift-giving season.

Reaching out, Cyrille rubbed a hand along Mira’s shoulders and back, offering all he could. A comforting touch and a smile, it was all he had. “I can’t help you much about that, I could offer you to take a look but a look is all I could give you. Have you thought about asking Quentin for a little bit of help?”

Not that he knew about Quentin’s gift as it was but he had seen the green tie-dyed blanket in Eoghan’s living room, had been told Quentin had made it so it made sense to ask this one particular soul about that kind of thing.

“I don’t know, Cy, if I do that I’ll feel as though I haven’t managed to make it for him and I don’t want to ask Quentin to help me with this, he might not want to.” Again, Mira rubbed his eyes, this time in frustration and to fight back against the tears that were threatening to overwhelm him. He didn’t want that, he couldn’t have that. It wasn’t right and he wasn’t that weak.

“I’ll try to find something else to make for him. I’m honestly just going to unravel the whole thing and roll it back up into its ball and I might start again after the new year, do it slow and steady, that way I might have a chance at managing something that isn’t going to be completely ugly for the next holidays, or maybe our birthday.”

With a sigh, Cyrille shook his head though he leaned down and kissed Mira’s cheek softly. “Whatever you decide to give him this year, I’m sure he’ll love it. He’s your brother, Mira. You two are closer than I wish I could have ever been to my own twin sister. You might have had a bit of a rough patch lately but he’s come around and that’s what matters. He’d give you the moon or at least try to if you asked him and I know you’d try to do the same for him.”

Mira, without a warning, turned to his friend, latched onto him in a hug and sniffled a little against that shoulder. He shivered at the present chill and Cyrille curled his arms about those lightly trembling shoulders. It was heartbreaking in a way for how sweet it was, how much it seemed to mean to these brothers, those handmade gifts. At least to Mira so far, that was. He hadn’t really seen or heard much from Agni about gifts and about whatever it was he might have been preparing for the holidays.

After a few moments, Mira eased back, rubbing his eyes again. He managed the hint of a smile up to his friend. Cyrille chuckled softly, reaching out to muss the teen’s hair lightly. “You look like you’ve barely slept last night. Leave the unraveling of the knitting for another day and try to get some sleep when we get home, have a nap before supper.”

“It’s my turn to cook.”

“I’ll take over, I can do that much for you, I’d be afraid you’d fall asleep in the kitchen and then what?”

“M’kay, thanks, Cy.”

“You’re welcome.”

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