Handcrafted Cards

February. The nip of winter was starting to feel different. Warmer. Restless. Alive. Spring was just around the corner.

Before spring arrived in earnest, however, there was something else to look forward to: Valentine's Day. The day of love. A day of chocolates, of roses, of grand displays of romance.

A day, like all holidays, that stressed Fannar out to a concerning degree. He stooped low over his desk, ink-blotted card stock and crumpled craftpaper scattered all around him. He stared intensely at his latest creation. A handcrafted card with carefully glued paper flowers and elegant calligraphy on the face. A lovely piece of craftsmanship in its own right. But Fannar huffed in frustration and crushed it between his paws.

“No, no, no, no, no! Pink flowers!? Silver lettering!? What was I thinking?? What a disaster!” He muttered to himself through gritted teeth, the stress clear in his voice. The quiet part, while left unsaid, was clear in his tone and demeanor. It wasn't good enough! It wasn't perfect! It must be perfect! It… it has to be.

His family expected nothing less than perfection, and growing up with a brother like Dove, who was the literal definition of perfect, Fannar always had to be more than perfect. Even if he hadn't spoken to them in years, the impact they left on him still showed in moments like this.

He held his head in his paws and took a deep breath. Okay. Cards weren't working. Maybe he could express his love better in flowery writing than with paper flowers. Fannar grabbed a bit of parchment and a quill. He began to write.

Nebel,

Fannar immediately paused, staring at the only word he wrote, and quickly scratched it out. No! Too plain. Not emotional enough. He grabbed another bit of parchment.

To my moon and stars,

Ugh, could he be any more tacky?? No! He scratched this out too, crumpling the piece of parchment and banishing it to the floor. Another took its place. His quill hovered inches above the page, and remained like this for several moments, as if frozen.

He… he couldn't think of anything to say! He was drawing a blank, about Nebel! The love of his life! He should be able to go on forever talking about how much he loves him. Instead, nothing!

The quill dropped from his paw as he suddenly began to shake. Fear and panic welled inside his icey body as his breath grew short. Did… did this mean he didn't actually love Nebel?? Has it just been a lie this whole time?? What if Nebel never actually loved him either??

Everything came to a head when Fannar’s body shuttered in heavy sobs. The fur on his cheeks quickly became wet and matted from the salty tears that flowed endlessly from his eyes.

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Hours later, a pale, misty dog stepped into a decaying shed behind his house. Light filtered in from dirtied windows, highlighting the dust floating in the air, as well as the moss reclaiming the walls and floor, and an odd shaped lump of rags near the back wall. His eyes focused intently on this lump.

“Fannar.” He said, firm but gentle. The shape shifted a little but otherwise did not respond.

The gray dog sighed, his expression softening a little. “Fannar. I know that's you.”

Sheepishly, the blue and purple form of Fannar shuffled partly out from under the rags. He stared at the ground. “How did you know it was me?” He asked in a hollow voice.

“Your horn was a dead giveaway, that thing gives a bad silhouette for just a pile of rags. Also, come on. I know you. This is where you always go when you want to disappear.” Nebel replied.

“Ah.”

The larger grey dog walked over and wrapped himself around Fannar, pressing his cheek to the purple dog's own in an attempt to comfort him. The wetness of his cheek seeped into Nebel’s own. Fannar remained silent, still staring at the ground.

Nebel sighed. “I saw your desk. You're stressing about holiday gifts again, aren't you?” He asked gently.

“Mmm…” Fannar shrugged vaguely, clearly upset and not in a talking mood.

“We do this every holiday… you know I don't care if things aren't perfect, right? The kids don't either. We're not your parents, or your brother. We always love everything you give us.” Nebel pulled away to look at Fannar, who was still showing no reaction.

Nebel pulled something out of a satchel around his neck and nudged it into Fannar’s line of sight. A crumpled, handmade card with little pink flowers glued to its front, some ripped and threatening to fall off, and silver calligraphy reading “Happy Valentine's Day”. This finally got a reaction out of the small icey dog. He looked over to Nebel in shock and confusion.

Undeterred by this reaction, Nebel spoke. “I love this. It's beautiful.” He said. “The flower spacing being off, or the colors not being right, or whatever made you think it isn't perfect? You're wrong. It is perfect. Because you made it with your own paws. You put thought and effort into your gift, and if that isn't love, I don't know what is.”

Just like that, the waterworks started again. Fannar’s big pink eyes welled with tears and he began to sob. This time, in happiness and relief.

Nebel chuckled a little. “Ah come on, you big softie.” He wrapped a paw around one of Fannar’s, and pressed his cheek into his again, allowing him to cry as much as he needed.

“Nebel… I love you so much.” Fannar managed shakily between sobs.

“I love you too, Fannar. I always have. Perfect gifts or not.” He responded.

Nebel allowed Fannar to cry for several minutes, reminding him occasionally that he loved him and he loved his gifts. Eventually, he seemed to remind himself of something that could hammer his point home, and break any remaining anxiety. “If I hated imperfect gifts, do you think I would've put up with Jokul's rather crass skateboard chocolate delivery for so long?”

This earned a chuckle from Fannar, calming him down. “Is she doing that again this year?” He asked with a sniffle.

“He's done it three years in a row so far, I don't know why this year would be any different.” Nebel replied with a slight eye roll.

After a moment, he stood up. “Come on, why don't we make them and the other goobers cards together?”

“Yeah… I'd like that.” Fannar said, standing up, finally shaking off those musty old rags.

Together, they walked back into the house. Fannar felt energized by all the love in his heart.