Spencer wishes he could simply call Ellie and ask her to send some of Joel's childhood art and other belongings over to the house, and it sends a sharp pang of sadness through him to know that it wouldn't be possible. The Bakers had lost so much after being forced out of their home in Shediac, and Spencer knows that no matter how hard he tries, that's something he can't change. They both know more pain than anyone ever should, he thinks, and Joel has helped him heal more than Spencer can even really say. He'd felt so numb for so long after the deaths of his mother and brother, like nothing could ever really fill the void left in his heart because he'd lost the only people left in his life that he'd loved. When Joel had found him, Spencer had been broken. They'd both been broken, at least a bit, but they've come so far in mending in the past six months.
Some things, though, just can't be fixed. The murder of his family, the eviction from Joel's hometown, the lighthouse, the demon--they're things that will haunt them, maybe not forever but long enough to make an impact. The only difference now is that they have each other to confide in, to ask for help, to love through all the difficult moments sometimes make life feel impossible to bear. With Joel, Spencer feels like he can do anything. With Joel, the painful memories that sometimes threaten to overwhelm him are more easily manageable now than every before and if Spencer is thankful for just one thing this holiday season, it's that he'd been given the chance to meet Joel.
He wets his lips as he considers the angel, letting out a soft sigh as he reaches for it and sets it at the top of the tree with a small smile. "It'll do for now," he says, starting work on draping the lights over the branches and arching an eyebrow at his husband. "But I'm sure we can find something better. Maybe I'll bring home a kit from the store, and we can make our own. Take this one to the cemetery and leave it for Christmas. Is that too odd?" He frowns at the notion that it might be because he's left so many other things there that he suspects have most often been stolen or carried away by nature, but it makes him feel better. It makes him feel like he's including his mother and brother in his life, as if he's trying to prove he hasn't forgotten about them. He hasn't been to their graves since he and Joel had met, for which he's starting to feel immensely guilty about, but Spencer knows he has good reason. More than one good reason, really, but he doesn't want to dwell on all of them.
"I do appreciate your defense of the wretched thing, though," he says, lips curling back into a grin. "That's how I know you truly love me, you don't try to get rid of all the terrible things I had to offer as a child. The true test of our marriage, though, will be next year when we're trying to get our baby to sit still for Christmas card photos. Which we're most definitely doing, by the way. My family did it up until my father died, but I like the idea of it. Keeping that sort of record of our baby's Christmases through the years? God, every holiday season is going to be so incredible with the two of you in it, it's amazing how easy it is to forget what it's like to be loved during the holiday season when you're spending it alone."
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Some things, though, just can't be fixed. The murder of his family, the eviction from Joel's hometown, the lighthouse, the demon--they're things that will haunt them, maybe not forever but long enough to make an impact. The only difference now is that they have each other to confide in, to ask for help, to love through all the difficult moments sometimes make life feel impossible to bear. With Joel, Spencer feels like he can do anything. With Joel, the painful memories that sometimes threaten to overwhelm him are more easily manageable now than every before and if Spencer is thankful for just one thing this holiday season, it's that he'd been given the chance to meet Joel.
He wets his lips as he considers the angel, letting out a soft sigh as he reaches for it and sets it at the top of the tree with a small smile. "It'll do for now," he says, starting work on draping the lights over the branches and arching an eyebrow at his husband. "But I'm sure we can find something better. Maybe I'll bring home a kit from the store, and we can make our own. Take this one to the cemetery and leave it for Christmas. Is that too odd?" He frowns at the notion that it might be because he's left so many other things there that he suspects have most often been stolen or carried away by nature, but it makes him feel better. It makes him feel like he's including his mother and brother in his life, as if he's trying to prove he hasn't forgotten about them. He hasn't been to their graves since he and Joel had met, for which he's starting to feel immensely guilty about, but Spencer knows he has good reason. More than one good reason, really, but he doesn't want to dwell on all of them.
"I do appreciate your defense of the wretched thing, though," he says, lips curling back into a grin. "That's how I know you truly love me, you don't try to get rid of all the terrible things I had to offer as a child. The true test of our marriage, though, will be next year when we're trying to get our baby to sit still for Christmas card photos. Which we're most definitely doing, by the way. My family did it up until my father died, but I like the idea of it. Keeping that sort of record of our baby's Christmases through the years? God, every holiday season is going to be so incredible with the two of you in it, it's amazing how easy it is to forget what it's like to be loved during the holiday season when you're spending it alone."