thirteen: christmas day

*

It's been a long time since I woke up before sunrise on Christmas Day. When I was a kid I used to be up by five, hopped up on the thought of presents and the possibility of Santa, and I'd race to my parents' room way too early; Dad would take me back to my room and set a two hour timer, and he'd tell me not to leave my room until the timer was done.

I haven't needed those kinds of measures since I was seven or eight, but after my early night, it's still dark when I wake up and realize it's Christmas. My first instinct is to check my phone, my bleary eyes slowly clearing enough to see the time, and when I see that it's four thirty, I sink my head onto my pillow. Rather than childish annoyance that it's too early to get up, I'm flooded with adult glee that I can sleep in for at least four more hours.

Except, as I shut off my screen, I catch sight of a notification from Storie, and I'm wide awake again. I rest on my elbow to read her message, sent at a minute past midnight.

STORIE: Merry Christmas Liam! <3 I hope you made it home all right; I can't wait to see you again. Who'd have thought we'd find each other again? We're certainly ending this year on a high! Have a great day with your family and I'll see you soon. Love you xx

Her words are a balm on my soul. I miss her like crazy, and we've been apart for less than twenty-four hours, and I don't know how I ever managed four years without her when she is so clearly my soulmate.

ME: merry christmas!!! good to be home but sucks to be so far from you! i love you so fucking much and can't wait to start the next year with you storie. I hope you have an awesome christmas & I know you'll have a great new year <3

It's hard to get back to sleep when my mind is whirring so much, but for once the whirring is good. It's spinning over everything that has happened in the past couple of weeks; it's keeping me awake thinking about how fucking lucky I was. I mean, what were the odds? I only got that job because I fell asleep on the rapid – what if I hadn't lost the job I'd had before? What if Storie hadn't visited the Winter Wonderland that day?

There are so many things that could have happened to stop us from bumping into each other that soon I'm overwhelmed by how coincidental our meeting was, how flimsy the fabric of the universe is, how easily our paths could have slid along in parallel, never crossing.

But they did, I have to remind myself. And Storie is back in my life. And I will see in the new year with her by my side. For the first time in my life, I will kiss someone I love as this year slips into the next. Really, our timing couldn't have been better.

STORIE: what're you doing up at 4:32?? Too excited for Santa??

I grin when her message jumps into my inbox.

ME: you can talk lmao! What're YOU doing up at 4:33?

STORIE: you don't want to know

Well, there goes my interest, officially piqued.

ME: try me ;)

She sends a laughing gif, and continues typing for several seconds. I start to drop off again waiting for her reply, until my phone buzzes in my hand and jerks me awake.

STORIE: Nav and Gray are "celebrating" I guess ... maybe they're just enthusiastically exchanging Christmas gifts in bed? Either way, they woke me up so my earphones are jammed in as deep as they'll go

I splutter as I type a reply.

ME: sounds like gray is too

STORIE: OMG! NO! LIAM!!!

I try to stifle my laugh with my pillow but a snort escapes. I can imagine Storie's distraught expression.

STORIE: I don't know what to do, I'm so tired but I can hear them and I don't want to bang on the wall because then they'll know I can hear them and it'll be awkward

I'm grinning to myself as we text. It feels so good to have this banter back.

LIAM: there's only one thing for it. youve gotta escape. If you leave now you can be in cincy for 8

She sends another laughing gif, and then a blowing kiss emoji.

STORIE: I think I'll just watch Friends until they're done.

ME: multiple episodes? Grays got game!

STORIE: shush please omg I don't need these mental images. I'm going now. Merry Christmas (again) and I cant wait for NYE! <3

ME: the count starts now! <3

I send a virtual hug gif; she sends another. I close my eyes and turn my phone face down on my bedside table, and I almost shit myself when I hear the creak of my door and the scuffing of little feet behind me.

It's always a sister, never a murderer, but that fear always strikes first. I roll over and come face to face with Anna, who's standing by my bed, her eyes huge and a blankie trailing from one hand.

"Is it Christmas?" she asks. Last year was the first year she really got the whole concept; this year she knows what to be excited for.

"Almost," I whisper. "In a few hours."

"I can't sleep."

"Are you excited?"

She nods and smiles a sleepy smile.

"Come on, time to go back to bed," I say, steeling myself to get out and walk her back to her room. But Anna shakes her head.

"No, don't wanna."

"You've got to; Mommy and Daddy won't be up for nearly four more hours."

She pouts and gives me puppy eyes and she's so adorable.

"I wanna stay with you," she says. I can't be bothered to argue and I'm not about to drag her to her room, so I shift over and pat the bed, and she clambers in like a little monkey, snuggling up to me.

"I need more sleep, though. So you've got to be quiet, okay?"

"I can be quiet," she says. When I lie down on my side, she muscles her way under my arm, curled up with her back against my chest, and she giggles when I pull the duvet up to my shoulders, almost covering her head.

Somehow, even though Anna's a wriggly little creature, I fall asleep. And when I wake up again, forty minutes later, I nearly shit myself for a second time, because there's a taller shadow standing next to my bed.

"Daria," I say with a groan when I realize it's only her. "What're you doing?"

"Daddy said I can't go into his room until seven," she says. She's holding a little digital clock, the bright red digits an assault on my senses. "It's only five o'clock and twelve minutes but I can't sleep and I can't find Annie."

I pat the lump under my duvet, where Anna has sprawled out on the other side of my bed. "She's here."

"Can I stay too?" She doesn't wait for an answer before getting into my bed next to Anna. "I can't sleep on my own."

I drop my head onto my pillow. "Sure, whatever. But don't keep me awake, okay? I'm super tired."

"Even though it's Christmas?!"

"Still gotta sleep, Dar. So give me at least a couple hours, all right?"

With a harrumph, she nods and buries herself under the comforter, and I roll onto my side to try to sleep. But it isn't long before Anna's awake and she and Daria are giggling together, both of them hyped up on Santa and Christmas in preparation for getting hyped up on sugar later today. I don't think I'll get much more sleep tonight.

*

The third time my door creaks open, it's bright outside. I never shut my curtains last night so the pale sun is pouring into my room and I blink blearily up at my mom, who's standing in the doorway.

"There they are," she says, laughing. "I thought it was a miracle that I was awake before they jumped on the bed but I was getting worried when I checked their room and it was empty!"

I come to my senses and sit up straight, and I laugh when I see that Anna and Daria are fast asleep on top of my comforter in a heap of pink pajamas and blonde hair. "Yeah, they came in here last night. I guess I'm not as strict as Dad."

The movement and voices stir the girls, and when Daria registers that it's morning and it's light outside and Mom's awake, she squeals so shrilly I'm sure my eardrums are about to shatter.

"It's Christmas!" she yells, scrambling to get off my bed and tripping over the sheets in the process. Even when she thuds hard onto the floor, she's unfazed and jumps to her feet again, racing to Mom. "Mommy, it's Christmas!"

"It sure is, baby!" Mom gives her a one-armed hug. "Are you gonna come downstairs? I think someone might have visited!"

Another Daria squeal. Anna, slower to stir, catches on and her eyes light up; she races after Daria and when Mom laughs, rolling her eyes as she follows them, I have my room to myself at last.

And my first thought is Storie.

ME: morning storie! merry christmas! I hope you have a great day with your fam. Love you <3

There's still a little voice in the back of my head saying you're being too eager. But I have to drown it out, because Storie and I used to text all the time and I never worried that I was too much; I can't let my dumb fears tamp me down.

Slipping my phone into the pocket of my pajama pants, I pull on a sweater and stuff my feet into a pair of slippers, and I head downstairs before one of my sisters races back up here to drag me down. Outside, it's not quite snowing but it's below freezing and bright frost sparkles on every leaf and blade of grass, and I'm hit by Christmas spirit as I follow the sound of my sisters.

There are seven stockings in front of the fireplace. My parents have always gone all out for Christmas and each of us still gets a stocking from Santa – even Matt, who's creeping closer to thirty – and right now, three of my siblings are ripping into theirs. It can't be more than fifteen minutes since the girls came downstairs but they're already surrounded by a pile of wrapping paper, and Sammy's here too. He knows the truth about Santa and has done for a few years now, but he looks like an overexcited kid right now, tearing into his presents.

Mom's curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a dressing gown with a blanket over her lap, grinning at the kids on the floor. Four stockings – smaller ones; us older four rarely ask for much, in anything – are untouched but at risk of drowning under the mountain of paper the others are generating.

Dad comes through from the kitchen with a couple of mugs and sits down next to Mom, handing her a steaming tea and sipping his black coffee before he notices me.

"Good morning, Liam," he says, with a genuine smile. "Merry Christmas."

Warmth spreads through me. Maybe it's not such a disaster if I have to move home; maybe that's what Dad and I need to bond properly.

"Merry Christmas, Dad."

"Did you want a drink? I just made coffee."

"Nah, I'm good. I don't drink coffee," I say, picking my way across the floor, trying not to tread on any of my siblings, and I drop onto the other sofa. It's not cold in here, but I pull a blanket over myself, thankful for Mom's obsession with fluffy throws that are draped over every chair and couch.

The sound system is on, Christmas music playing quietly in the background, and I grin when Daria comes to sit next to me, hauling the stocking that has my name on it.

"Time for presents!" she says, wearing a brand new headband with the tags still attached, and Anna clambers onto the sofa too; she's certainly easing up around me despite hardly having spent any of her life with me in the house. Bing Crosby is crooning and everyone's happy, and even Dad is smiling. The anxious flutter that I've grown used to, that ball of nerves that has lived in my chest for so many years, is quiet today. I don't have anything to worry about today.

Instead, I'm thankful. Thankful for my family, my parents, their generosity. Thankful to Storie for giving me another chance when she could have turned her back on me. For carving out her time for me, enough time to see that we fit together. We fit just right.

*

One of my favourite things about Christmas is that, for my family at least, it's an excuse to totally slob out with no judgment. Wanna drink a mimosa at nine a.m.? Go ahead! Want to pick a spot on the sofa and only leave for an extravagant roast lunch at three p.m.? Fine! By eight o'clock, the sun long since gone, I've been slowly drinking for twelve hours and yet with the amount of food I've eaten, I hardly even feel tipsy.

Matthew, on the other hand, is hilariously drunk. I don't see this side of him much, especially considering he moved out almost a decade ago, but I love it. He has an easy grin on his face as we set up a game of Monopoly, with Elf playing in the background. I voted for Home Alone, but Mom was worried that all the violence might upset Anna. I didn't point out that I'm sure I watched it younger than that. Elf is another favourite, anyway, and there's something so watchable about Christmas films; I can watch the same ones every single year and never tire of them.

"Wait, wait," Matthew says as Johnny sets up the board and doles out the cash, "what're the rules again?"

George groans. "Matt. Come on. We play this game every year. You know the rules!"

"It's the alcohol," Dad deadpans, sipping an espresso martini. I tried a sip and couldn't control the way my face screwed up in disgust, and he actually laughed. "I think he may have killed off several of the more necessary braincells today."

"Poor Matty," Anna says, pouting. She pats his head. "Your brain is melting!"

He catches her and tickles her until she shrieks, laughing so hard she cries, and Mom chuckles to herself, sipping mulled wine and checking we have all the property cards. I haven't played for a good year and I've never won a game when Dad's playing, but my strategy never changes. I always intend to go for the oranges and the reds, and the yellows if I can, but the moment I land on any buyable property, I know I'll get it. Even if it's Baltic Avenue.

We're thirty minutes into the game, and I own an eclectic collection of light blues, pinks, and greens, when the doorbell goes. Anna leaps to her feet.

"I'll get it!" she cries, racing off. Dad chases after her, almost spilling his drink, and I see him scoop her up in one arm out of the corner of my eye. All these little moments are adding up to a whole new picture of my dad, a version of my dad that I really want to get to know better.

We're way at the other end of the house and I only just hear Dad's voice when he calls my name, and I manage to mess up my piles of cash and property when I stand up. It's not really a floor game, but the big dining table is too cold and distant, and none of us want to leave the living room, with its warm fire and its soft sofas and its glowing tree, so we've all been perched on stools or lying on the shag rug.

The house gets colder the further I stray from the room around which Christmas is centered, and it's freezing in the hallway, the front door open. It's way below freezing, I'm sure, and it looks like it's snowing again, fat white flakes drifting and sticking.

"There's someone here for you," Dad says. He's wearing an enigmatic smile. I've never seen that look on him before. But then he steps to the side, still holding Anna on his hip, and I see who rang the doorbell.

"Storie?" My heart starts going crazy. Dad and Anna leave, and it's just me and Storie, and I can't form any words. My mouth is hanging open like an idiot, and she's smiling.

"Can I come in? It's freezing out here," she says. I lurch into action and pull her into the house and kick the door shut, and I wrap my arms around her cold body, and she hugs me tight enough to coax my words out.

"What are you doing here? It's Christmas Day! How come you're not with your family?"

She pulls away and shrugs. "I was with my family," she says. "Right up until about three hours ago. And I looked at Mom and Tad, and Gray and Nav, and Kris and Isaac, and I thought ... you know what?" Her eyes light up. "I want to be with my boyfriend. And I wanted to surprise you."

"Oh my god." I'm grinning wildly. "Definitely a surprise. Holy shit." I pull her into another hug, and I kiss her this time, and her hands hold my hips as her nose nudges mine. "Happy Christmas, Storie," I say, my lips brushing hers.

"Happy Christmas," she says, her hands slipping around to the small of my back. She rests her cheek against my chest and lets out a quiet sigh, and I hold her, her snowy hair chilling my cheek.

"It's so fucking good to see you," I murmur. She tilts her head back, her eyes meeting mine, and I am putty in her hands.

"I couldn't decide whether or not to text you first. I wasn't sure if I'd be interrupting any big family traditions or anything."

"I wouldn't care if you were," I say. "But you're not. Only our yearly chaotic game of Monopoly. God, I can't believe you drove all this way! On Christmas!"

She shrugs again. "I wanted to be with you," she says. "And I wanted to give you your gift on Christmas Day."

My heart simultaneously sinks and soars. "You got me a gift?" I ask, thinking shit. My solitary shopping spree was so short and hurried, I didn't buy her anything.

"Spur of the moment," she says. "Well, sort of. You know when something's just ... right?"

I nod. She smiles and pats my chest. "Anyway. Gifts can wait. Where's your family? I'm amazed Daria hasn't followed my scent yet."

As if on cue, Daria careens around the corner. Dad must've told the others who rang the bell. She skids across the slippery hall floor in her fluffy socks and squeals, knocking Storie off balance when she crashes into her.

"There you are!" Storie cries, crouching to hug Daria tightly. "Merry Christmas, Dar!"

Daria's so overexcited, hopped up on sugar and Santa and now Storie, she can hardly get a word of sense out. Storie chuckles and loops her arm through mine, her other arm around Daria's shoulder.

"Mind if I join your game?" she asks, looking up at me through those long, thick lashes. I slip my fingers down to hers, lacing them together, and run my warm thumb over her cold knuckles.

"I think I could use a hand."

*

so much for finishing this story in time for christmas lmao. not sure how many chapters left but probably no more than 4, if not less!