Growing up Dorian was settled in bed, because it was - according to the time here - past his bedtime. According to the timezone he had just left, however, it most definitely was not, and so he was reading. He jumped slightly when there was a knock on the door, wondering whether he was about to be in trouble for not having his light out yet.
“Jìnlái ba,” he called out, hedging his bets on who his visitor would be. Father did not really do bedtime rounds, and Émilie and Matthieu tended to just rush or barge in - the verb depending on which of them it was. His sister sometimes knocked, but she would understand the command anyway. However, his first guess proved to be correct, and it was his mother who came into the room.
“I didn’t embarrass you earlier, did I?” she asked, perching on the edge of his bed. The utterly mystified look that crossed his face confirmed it before he even spoke.
“No. Why do you think that?”
“Oh, your father said teenage boys don’t want to be hugged and kissed by their mothers in public. He said maybe you are too big for such things now,” she commented, illustrating the point by reaching up to stroke his cheek.
“I still like hugs and kisses,” he promised, putting his book aside, “I’m not too big.” He sunk down obligingly a few inches, so that his head was lower than hers and she laughed, as she gathered him in her arms. “Maybe I’m not a normal teenage boy.”
“Oh, pssht,” she swatted at him, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Dorian closed his eyes, leaning against his mother’s shoulder and breathing steadily, taking in the soft scent of jasmine, which had always meant home and comfort. It felt nicer than she could possibly know to hear her saying all these things, even if she wasn’t saying them in the context he needed to hear them.
“I’m not like Matthieu,” he pointed out. And little as Dorian thought that was something to aspire to, Matthieu certainly ticked a lot more of the ‘normal boy’ boxes than he did.
“That’s fine. I already have one of those,” she told him, softly stroking his hair, “You and your brother are very different, but that’s ok. No one’s asking you to be like him. I love you just as you are. I always have, and I always will. I don’t want you to be anyone except yourself.”
Dorian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the tears that had formed at those words. Because it was a lovely promise, and it was exactly what he wanted. But the trouble was, his mother didn’t know exactly who he was. And how could she promise that if she didn’t?
“”I… I know you have to grow up,” she continued, stroking his hair gently, “You and your sister. But since you left home you seem to be doing it so fast. You come home all big and grown up - taller than your mama,” she added reprovingly, as if she had not for years been tutting over how small he was, and saying that he needed to eat more if he ever wanted to grow big before forcibly feeding him second helpings of everything, “I just can’t stop thinking of you as my little bunny, however big you get. Do you mind?”
“No!” Dorian insisted, “I like it too” he assured her. He had always liked the nickname, and even if it was childish, he didn’t care. It had always made him feel special and loved, and he needed that right now. He knew he needed that always from his mother, which was part of why everything recently had been so hard and so frightening… “Can I… do both? Grow up and still be that?” he asked, knowing that she really had no idea how loaded a question that was.
“Fine by me,” she agreed.
And he didn’t want it to be a secret any more. He wanted to tell her, and hear her say all those things again and really mean them. But he was only in control of one of those things happening… And summer was a long time. It was supposed to be filled with family, and visits from Jehan, all followed by going back to Sonora. And she could take all of things away in a heartbeat. He sighed.
“Happy sigh or sad sigh?” she checked.
“Happy,” he assured her. “I love you too,” he mumbled, keeping his voice quiet so it wouldn’t shake.