The craft fair opened at ten. Myles texted Julian his first update at nine thirty, and then again at ten. Julian wanted to hide from his phone.

The first message had been a picture of Myles' stalls. Julian thought it looked nice, but the sight of some of his thoughtless crafting on Myles' table made him anxious. He'd spent the next half hour trying to think of something to say. His brain hurt from overthinking all the ways he could say it wrong.

Myles didn't mind the silence. He'd texted a second set of pictures with close ups of the stall. Unfortunately, part of his table was set up almost exclusively to the pipe-cleaners. Julian felt sick about it–but to Myles' credit, Julian thought it would have looked very nice. If he hadn't been involved.

Finally, worried more that Myles would think he was being ignored than he was worried about saying the wrong thing, Julian texted 'Your set up is really nice. I hope you have a great day!'

Myles felt as friendly through text as he did in person, though a little less chatty.

He texted Julian the first sale–three poinsettias.

Julian didn't know what to say, so he'd said nothing.

Myles hadn't needed a response; he sent updates as he had them. The poinsettias were popular. The wreaths, too. Myles sold them as gift tags. One woman loved the lilies so much that she bought seventeen, and then came back fifteen minutes later for more.

Julian was somewhat numb to the updates by lunch time because it didn't seem real, and he didn't know what to say. Even 'thank you' seemed arrogant. He put his phone on silent but every time it went off, he still checked it. He didn't study much, but it wasn't Myles' fault. He'd been distracted by other things. Mostly Cyril, and thinking about what questions he should show up with next week.

His mind was busy, so his hands were busy, too. He made more poinsettias, absently staring at the wall while his fingers went through the motion.

An hour and a half passed before he snapped back into his body.

By five, the craft fair was closing. He hadn't texted Myles back since that morning, but the updates had continued. At 5:10, Myles texted his last picture. The booth was nearly cleared out. He had less than twenty candles. There had been two baskets of flowers on the tablet. Myles replenished them as the day went on, but now there was only one basket, and it was less than half full.

'It was a really good day!' Myles reported. 'Everyone was nice. The weather was great, too. There were a lot of neat things. There's one more craft fair before Christmas. If you're still looking for gifts for anyone, you should come visit!'

Which was a nice offer, and was something Julian thought he might have enjoyed with the right company. He didn't like shopping online. He didn't like shopping in big stores. He didn't actually like shopping in general, but he gravitated towards smaller owned businesses.

'I'm glad you had a good day. Thank you for the updates. I really appreciate it,' he said, and mostly meant it. He was still trying to figure out how he felt about all of it when he looked at the mountain of petals he'd spent today making. It wasn't like it had been before–not enough to fill a drawer. But, some. He hadn't been making the pipe-cleaner flowers with any intention, just muscle memory. His fingers were a little sore. His wrist ached. He reached for another red stem and started to bend it.

Then, he put it down.

He sucked in a breath, held it, and then rapidly texted Myles, 'Do you want some more flowers? I can bring them by before this weekend. It won't be as many. But I was going to be in the area.'

Myles texted back almost immediately, 'Could you? It's no pressure! But I'll be happy to take any of them off your hands!'

Julian didn't know if he felt warm because he was relieved or anxious. Sometimes they blended together. But, Myles was nice. And Julian was going to be in the area.

So, they had coordinated.

Julian had a very busy week lined up, but he was going over to Elliot's house on Monday, and Myles was just down the street. He'd packed up a box of all his pipe-cleaners crafts and put in the back of the car before school, before Riker had even come out. After they arrived, Julian had sheepishly transferred the box to Elliot's trunk with a mumbled apology. Elliot hadn't minded–hadn't even asked any questions. After school, Julian had stayed for about half an hour with the Reids. Then, he'd taken the box to Myles'.

He was bundled up; it was colder today than the last time he was here, and he was going to be out for a while. He had a lot of errands to run. Like before, he wasn't planning on staying for long.

Like before, Myles invited him in, and immediately offered him a few treats.

When Myles offered hot chocolate, Julian politely declined. When Myles insisted, Julian accepted.

Myles had eight cardboard cups of hot-chocolate on the counter and explained that he'd ordered some to be delivered from a local shop. And then, two minutes later, he'd ordered again, because he forgot he finished placing the previous order. He was trying to figure out how to drink five cups before Jeremy got home, and he couldn't let it go to waste.

He'd acted like Julian was doing him a favor by taking one off his hands.

Myles couldn't really contain his excitement and was going through the box of pipe-cleaner crafts. Every now and then, he'd pick one up and say he liked it. Julian saw him pick the same one up three times and say the same thing, so at that point in time he wondered if Myles actually meant it.

"Oh, these are perfect," Myles said, forcing himself to put the box down so he could focus. "Sorry, I don't want to keep you here forever. I know you said you had things to do. Thank you, again. Actually–hold on, I want to give you something."

Julian smiled politely, and before he could decline, Myles was offering an envelope.

"Okay, so. Don't be mad. But, I just wanted to give you a report. On all of the sales. I know you said you were giving them to me. But, I really didn't want to just take them. I mean–I sold them, I made a profit. And I didn't tell anyone about you. But I did say it was a collaboration. So–you know, for your records, and if you wanted, I kept a log of all the sales. And I made you a copy. So it's a log of what sold, in what quantity, in which sale."

Julian looked at him obligingly, but Myles didn't miss the timid uncertainty in his expression. His smile had softened but not faded.

Myles continued, "And, um. I wrote down all the feedback. Well, I thought you might like to hear what people were saying about them. Since you weren't there and didn't get to hear, yourself. I also–I don't know if you want it, it's just habit of mine–I write it down whenever anybody makes a suggestion or asks me questions–so I wrote those, too. It's nothing bad. Actually, it's a lot of praise. And you know, 'Do you do special orders,' 'Do you take requests,' 'Will you have these for Easter'–oh, about the lilies. I have the numbers of a few people if you're interested in taking special orders, those are there. Or–oh, sorry, I know, this is a lot. You can throw it away if you don't want it." Myles half turned but then spun around quickly. "Wait!" he said, too loud, too sudden.

Julian waited.

"I mean, don't throw away the whole envelope! Actually," he laughed nervously. "I don't want to surprise you when you open it. I um, I did split the profits. So, there is a cut for you in there."

Julian still hadn't moved.

"It's cash, it's three-quarters of the profit. But I have the rest set aside if you want that, too."

Julian's eyes darted down to the envelope, and then back to Myles. "But I don't..."

"I know," Myles said quickly, before Julian had to explain himself. "I know, you said you weren't interested in the money. But–I just, I couldn't. I just kept thinking about how I didn't want to profit off of all of your hard work. And you don't have to keep the money if you don't want it. If you really, really want nothing to do with it, you can just pick out a charity and I can donate it. And I can get you a receipt for that, too. I was thinking I'd donate the share I kept but I haven't looked into anything yet. Jeremy's going to help me later. I mean! If you want it, you can have it! I'm still going to pick a few charities. I have some that I really like if you want suggestions, but–oh," he stopped suddenly, and cleared his throat. "Sorry. Sorry, that's a lot, I know."

Julian hadn't said anything. The envelope suddenly felt very heavy. He wanted to give it back, but Myles was watching him expectantly. Nervously. "Um," he said slowly.

Myles waited, wringing his hands together with anxious energy.

"Well..." Julian swallowed. A few seconds passed, or maybe a minute. Myles had a hard time standing still but he stayed patient while Julian found his words.

"I mean, thank you." The envelope looked so normal, but he could see the way it bulged slightly from Myles' notes and the bills inside. Julian was still holding it awkwardly, in the same position he'd been in when he first accepted it. "I didn't...um." He didn't know what to say. Another moment passed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Myles said quickly, certainly.

"Um. I like the idea of giving it to charity," he said after a minute. "If it could be used to–" Julian cut himself off mid-sentence, like he'd been struck with a thought.

Myles was no stranger to the power of spontaneous ideas, so he tilted his head.

Slowly, Julian pulled the envelope closer. "...Well, there is this...I mean, I don't know if it's a charity," he said slowly. "It's, um. Well, this project. To help–well, I don't know. I mean, I hope it's to help people. I was, um. Well, I mean, for kids..."

Also no stranger to the whims of a mind working too fast and talking itself in circles, Myles nodded. He didn't pressure Julian to clarify, just waited until the thoughts settled into place.

"Um. I just mean, are you sure this is okay?"

"Yes," Myles repeated.

He didn't ask Julian to clarify, but he felt obligated to anyway. "There's, um. This thing. For–well, it's for foster kids. Um. I'm going to talk to a caseworker on–well, this weekend, actually. Um. I think this could help."

"Yeah?" Myles asked. His face broke into a fresh smile. "Okay, good. Does that mean you'd like the rest?"

"Oh–no, I think, um. I mean, you–you did all the work. That's–please keep it," Julian insisted. "And–I mean, you gave me such good updates, and..." he gestured with the envelope. "You did all this work, and took notes, and...Well, I just don't think...I wouldn't feel right if..."

"I get it," Myles assured. "I think you and I feel the same way about it. Well–okay, I'll ask Jeremy to help me pick out a good charity for foster kids, if that's important to you? We do, um, the Angel Tree? Well, and this other one. Jeremy has a bunch of connections–you know, because of his job. So," he half-hopped over to a stack of boxes and picked one up, tilting the one on top to show Julian the assortment of toys inside. The boxes stacked up to his hip and was wide enough that he could have totally hid behind it.

Julian stared for a moment and nodded once more, finally relaxing enough to shrug his backpack off one shoulder. He unzipped it and tucked the envelope safely inside, pushing it to the bottom to make sure it wouldn't get lost. "Um, thank you. Do you guys always do things like this?"

"Oh, yeah. I mean, now we can afford a lot more. We used to scrimp and save and all, but now we're doing pretty well. And, um. I mean, things were hard for us for a long time, you know? So this is kind of like–well, I mean, obviously presents don't fix everything! But, you know. It's still nice to know someone is thinking about you. Right?"

"Right," Julian agreed, though he didn't look up or zip his bag closed yet. His hand hovered inside, stalled while wrestled with another string of internal doubt. "Um. For the...I mean, if you can sell those," he nodded to the box he'd carried in, "You can, um. I mean, would it be okay if...you don't have to...I mean, would it be okay–if you felt like giving me anything–if you could donate that to one of your charities, too? My project, um, well–it'll be done on Saturday, so...I won't really know what to do with any money if you give it to me."

"Oh, of course. Yes, I can do that. Can I give you updates again?"

"Yes, please," Julian said, and though it had been an instinctive agreement, he found that he did want to hear about it. "I might, um. Well, I'll see if I can stop by. Maybe my friends and I..." His voice trailed off and he shrugged, but an infectious smile illuminated Myles' face already.

"Oh, I hope you can! It'll be beautiful with all the lights. It'll be cold though, so dress warm, okay?"

"Okay. Um, can I–can I...would it be okay if I left you a present? I, um. Well, we do a lot of baking at my house. I didn't make these. I helped, but, um." Julian pulled out a small box, striped green and red. "We always have extra. So I–if you want..."

Myles accepted the box even as Julian busied himself zipping up his backpack. He didn't have the same patience Julian had and opened the box immediately. Inside, there was a plastic bag full of fresh, homemade cookies.

"Oh!" Myles said, unable to hide his excitement. "Oh, you can bake?"

"Well–only a little. I mostly just do the easy stuff. Or clean up. But they're really good. Um, I think. There's–um, the sugar cookies, I think, are my favorite. But there's chocolate chip, I like those, too. The snickerdoodles, um. We made a lot, so I tried to put in a little of everything. Um. You said you and your brother liked homemade cookies, so..."

"Did I? Oh–I did. You remembered? Well, it's true, we haven't had homemade cookies in so long. Oh, I love these," Myles said, already opening the bag. "Jeremy's going to be so excited." With no way to restrain his own eagerness, he took a bite of the first cookie he plucked from the bag and sighed contentedly while nodding. "It's so good, you're right. Thank you."

"Oh, um–I'm really glad. Thank you. Um, for–well, for everything." He shifted awkwardly, but was quick to insist, "I'll tell them you liked the cookies."

"Please do. Do you want another hot chocolate?"

"Oh! No–no, thank you. One is enough. But, um. I should go, if that's okay? I have to get a lot done, um." He wracked his mind for an explanation, but Myles didn't even ask for one.

"Oh yeah, of course!" Myles was on his second cookie already. "Thank you for coming over, Julian. I'll text you about the craft fair. Hope to see you on Sunday!"

Julian smiled and collected the hot chocolate again, glad to have something to fuss with.

He was going to be walking for a while, and in this chill, he was glad to have something warm to hold.

...Even if there was already a strange warmth in his chest.