abnormal is the new normal.

Mail for Bryan Collins can be left here.

As exciting as their first Christmas with a baby had been, Bryan thinks this year might be even better. No, they don't have the same 'firsts' to look forward to this time around, but being older, Sawyer is more involved and curious and aware of everything that's happening around him. He helped put out cookies and milk for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. With Hanukkah falling on Christmas Eve, he even helped David light a candle on a menorah. And he thinks watching Sawyer's face light up when he finds all the gifts beneath the tree is probably going to be one of the best things he'd ever seen.

They might have gone a bit overboard the presents this year, but with another little one on the way, it seemed like a good excuse to treat Sawyer while he was still their only.

Bryan has forced himself to stop checking the clock on his phone. It only makes time move slower. He's eager to get the day going and it's not even the promise of gifts for himself that has him anxious. Curling up closer to David, he presses cold feet against him, eyes shut and a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

If he can't sleep, David's not allowed to either.

Bryan hadn't gotten very far after successfully fleeing to what he assumed had to be safety earlier that morning. He made it a few blocks before he was sure he wasn't being followed, asked an elderly man out walking his dog where he was and how far out that was from where he wanted to be. Like all the answers David had given him, none of his answers made sense and all they did was invite more and more questions.

After that unhelpful interaction, Bryan decided to do what he should have done the second David left him alone in that bedroom the first time and call the authorities. When he'd gone to do just that, though, he noticed that the phone he'd grabbed off the nightstand wasn't his. In fact, it wasn't like any he'd seen before. It took him a while to even get into it, the first thing to greet him once he figured it out being an image of David, that baby and himself in front of a house. The house he came from, maybe. Bryan hadn't exactly stuck around the outside long enough to be able to tell for sure.

He forgot about the phone call, instead helping himself to some random homeowner's bench swing outside their house as he navigated the phone, learning as he went. Call history, text threads, video clips, photo after photo after photo. The phone's memory was jam packed with nothing but him and David and a baby, and yet none of it was ringing any bells in his own memory.

His chest tightened with every swipe, every message he read or video he watched, the growing anxiety nearly suffocating.

Bryan's not sure how long he sat there, how many times he viewed the same images over and over again, waiting for something to click. It never happened, though, and the only reason he stopped is because his phone had stopped working.

Something's wrong. With him, maybe with everything. He wants to cry and he wants to go home. When he knocks on the front door, he's not sure that he wants to go back inside, but he doesn't know what else to do or who else can explain what's happening.

It's been nearly three hours and Bryan is no closer to understanding what's going on now than he had been earlier that afternoon.

The city had gone back to normal the day before, or it's own version of normal, anyway. Even so, he did hesitate before going near the front door for anything more than double checking the locks when the commotion started up on the other side. A dog, crying and scratching away at the entrance. After everything that had happened over the past few days, of course it had set him on edge initially. Until the dog started barking.

None of it had sounded aggressive to him, but it hadn't stopped Bryan from barricading Sawyer and Smelly away in the nursery, just in case. A small, rational part of him told him to keep the door shut. The dog would lose interest eventually or it's owner would come collect it soon enough. That rational part annoyingly sounded a lot like David. A bigger part of him, though - the part that won out - recognized that bark and the furry hind quarters wiggling excitedly that he could make out through the peephole.

He knew it was insane, but what about this place wasn't? The past few days had been like something out of an Eddie Murphy movie gone horribly wrong. Or more wrong than usual. The fact that they were there at all was madness in and of itself. Considering all of that, opening the door and being rushed by an overly excited (and very much alive) Harvey Milkbone was just today's installment of weird.

That was three hours ago and the number of questions and feelings are still all so overwhelming. He'd spent what felt like at least two of those hours just crying on the living room floor, face buried in Harvey's fur, identifying his markings, the ratio of pink paw pads to black, his collar. Until Sawyer woke from his nap and Bryan had to at least attempt to function like everything was normal.

But it isn't.

He'd texted David before he'd gotten out of work, asking him if he wanted to meet up in the park before heading home. He never mentioned Harvey. Now, seated on a bench with Sawyer on his lap and Harvey contently chewing away on a stick he'd found, Bryan wonders if he should have. He knows getting the words out over the phone would have been impossible without crying, and adding 'ps: Harvey's back' at the end of his text didn't seem like the way to go about it. He hadn't wanted him to worry or disrupt his work day. Taking vacation time and sick time were one thing, but he's pretty sure there's no such thing as my-dog-is-back-from-the-dead time.

Harvey died. They'd put what remained of him in Sawyer's nursery back home, so he'd always be close to their boy, even if they would never officially have the chance to meet.

But now they can.

Though Bryan's sure that he'd deny it, this party was more or less all David's idea. He's the one who'd said they needed to make this place feel more like home. And was he not the one who had suggested that Bryan say hi to the neighbors? All Bryan did was take the baton and run with it, all the way to invite the whole building to a cocktail party. And why not? It made perfect sense to him.

If they were back home, this is exactly the kind of thing he would do and has done. Hell, he'd thrown a dinner party at the drop of a hat just to prove a point to Jane... which completely backfired on him, but definitely did not diminish his love of entertaining. The space he had to work with was smaller than their home in Los Angeles and he actually had a budget to be mindful of. Still, never one to pass up a challenge, Bryan made it work. With help from David. Mostly when it came to numbers. He still doesn't think it's fair that he has to suffer a nonpracticing Jew nagging so much about money. Or that he'd gone out of his way to pick a shirt out for David that definitely isn't the one he's currently wearing. He doesn't know why he even bothers sometimes.

If nothing else, at least Smelly hasn't rebelled against him and removed the bow tie collar Bryan had put him in. Though he does look a bit sad on the opposite side of the baby gate keeping him confined to Sawyer's room.

Either way, the apartment it set for the arrival of their guests; alcohol ready to flow and tiers upon tiers of finger foods - appetizers, sandwiches and desserts - all strategically arranged on multiple surfaces to keep the flow of people moving and mingling. There would be no wallflowers taking root if he has anything to do with it.

So it wasn't exactly the sort of wedding he'd always pictured himself having - he's barefoot, for starters, there isn't a single rented trumpeter swan to be seen and they were being serenaded by the musical styling of some hippie with a guitar who just happened to be on the beach that afternoon - but that hadn't made it any less perfect.

Perfect for them, anyway.

There weren't any lavish yet tasteful decorations, no burnt almond meringue cake and no blood relatives of the groom and groom in attendance. That last detail might have just been Bryan's favorite part. Or his second favorite part, really. Because while it may not have been the ceremony of his dreams in terms of the superficial aesthetics of it all, he was standing there with a man who, minus the height, surpassed all of his dreams, holding their son, with their family standing witness. As a very wise ten-year-old had once said, many, many weeks ago: Family is who you choose; it's the relatives who are chosen for us.

How could swans, a pretentious cake and all of those other small details improve on what was surrounding him? Flowers wilted, rented table linens and chairs all had to be returned and the swans would no doubt have made a mess of the aisle runner. But this? David, Sawyer and the people they cared about most... and guitar playing hippie? That's what mattered. That's all that mattered. The hippie, probably less so. All of that other stuff just wasn't important in the grand scheme of things.

With the rings and I dos exchanged, standing hand in hand with David, Bryan finds that he doesn't feel any of the anxiety he'd felt the first time they'd tried to do this. It just serves as further proof to him that this is how it was meant to be.

"Then by the power vested in me as a child of God, I now pronounce you... a family," Father Michael concludes and Bryan's smile brightens before he leans in, Sawyer nestled comfortably in the sling between them, and kisses David. For the sake of tradition he'd wanted to have the wedding before Sawyer was born, but in that moment, with each squirm and shift his tiny body makes in his cocoon of fabric, Bryan can't really remember why. To hell with the traditional.

It's the sudden chill in the air that makes him break the kiss off short and open his eyes, instantly glancing down and pulling the side of the sling protectively over Sawyer to shield him from the breeze. "I didn't dress him for this," Bryan says, brow knit with worry when he finally looks up... only to find everything and everyone who had been there just seconds ago were now gone. Goldie and Shania, Rocky and Nikki, Father Michael and their makeshift, beach discards chic alter and archway. Gone. Random hippie? Him, too. In the distance, he notices that the whole of Santa Monica pier has vanished from the backdrop, and that's when he really starts to panic.

"David?"