Archive of Our Own ^beta

COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS:
22 DAYS

Thomas had been dreading this party for two reasons: festivities and the mistletoe.

Every year since their freshman year of college, Teresa had thrown together these magical holiday parties that only got better and better as the years went on. Last year, someone suggested they go carolling and in their drunken states of mind, everyone agreed. They filled the streets, singing Christmas songs at the top of their lungs all the way across town. Most people—namely the older crowd—didn’t appreciate the late-night singing and threatened to call the cops if they didn’t calm down. Thomas awoke the following morning on a soccer field, surrounded by other unconscious bodies, with only the faintest recollection of the night’s events as an explanation. Needless to say, he spent the whole weekend in bed nursing a migraine with a trash can at the ready.

As for the mistletoe, it had become a sort of bad omen. Numerous mistletoes were strung up throughout the house, ensuring there were many opportunities for people to get lucky at some point during the night. Sure enough, Teresa had found herself standing underneath one with a guy from one of Thomas’ architecture classes the very first year she hosted one of these parties. One kiss led to a two-year relationship before they decided to call it quits. Thomas once joked to Minho, his best friend, that the mistletoe had accidentally brought bad luck, considering they’d broken up about a month before Christmas. But what made him really think it was a bad omen was the fact that Thomas had attended all of these parties, found himself under a mistletoe numerous times, and yet he’d never once been kissed.

He stood in the kitchen of Teresa’s childhood home, downing a third glass of eggnog as he glared at the nearest mistletoe. Two drunken fools would unknowingly stumble towards it soon enough and when they realized what was hanging above them, they’d laugh like it was the most ridiculous thing to happen. But they would inch closer until there was no space left between them and Thomas would drown his sorrows in a fourth glass of this terribly creamy beverage.

He loved Christmas, he really did, but as he got older, he couldn’t help but start to feel the depths of his loneliness. He’d never been in a relationship before and while he enjoyed his own company, there were days where he wished he had someone he could enjoy the holiday season with.

There was always next year, he reminded himself as he swallowed the last bit of eggnog in his glass, mentally cursing Teresa for insisting on serving it every single year.

“Thomas!” He lifted his head and was greeted by a smiling Minho. “I see you’ve found the eggnog. Traditions never cease.”

He lifted his now empty glass in a salute. “Maybe next year I’ll finally convince Teresa to add alcohol.”

Minho snorted. “Why wait?” He lifted a bottle of rum, waving it in the air with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Care for a taste test?”

“I love you so much.”

“Easy there, you haven’t even had anything to drink yet.”

Holed up in the kitchen, a reasonable distance from other partygoers, they filled glass after glass with their newest concoction. Thomas had to admit, the eggnog was much more bearable with the added alcohol.

Just as he was finishing off his fifth glass, he spotted Brenda under—you guessed it!—the mistletoe with a guy Thomas didn’t recognize. As if on cue, they looked up at the same time, laughed, then met in the middle with a steamy kiss. Thomas reached for the bottle again.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Minho said, snatching up both bottles and moving them out of Thomas’ reach. “You want to remember everything tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Not really, no.”

Minho followed his gaze to where Brenda was still pressed against her mistletoe lover. “Ah,” he said, turning back to Thomas. “You still think those are bad luck.”

“They just don’t work ,” he grumbled. “I mean, think about it. This is the fifth party in a row and not once have I kissed someone under the mistletoe. It’s like the Christmas spirits are out to get me.”

“Alright Thomas.” Minho met his gaze, his voice challenging. “Who do you want to kiss under the mistletoe?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. You can’t be this hung up over hoping you’ll kiss a stranger or someone you barely know.”

“If I wanted to kiss someone in particular, I would be drowning myself in eggnog all year round.”

Minho rolled his eyes and took a swig from the bottle of rum. “Say what you want. I think you’ve got your eye on someone.”

It was a fair point and Thomas had considered it before, but he didn’t have feelings for anyone. Honestly, he couldn’t be exactly sure who the last person he’d had a crush on was. It had probably been someone he’d met in one of his classes that ended as soon as that class ended and he never saw them again.

He and Minho remained in the kitchen a little while longer, resorting to people watching now that Minho had confiscated the alcohol as well as the eggnog. Regardless, Thomas had made a new record tonight with a total of five glasses. Maybe next year he would hit six, or if he was lucky, he’d come up with a reasonable excuse to not come at all.

“That’s my cue,” Minho muttered after about an hour of sulking. Thomas whipped his head around, pausing when his gaze landed on Teresa. Her eyes found his and she smiled as she made her way over. Minho clapped him on the shoulder, said, “Find you later,” and disappeared to some other corner of the house.

Teresa stopped in front of him. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” He couldn’t help but notice how put together she looked compared to him. Where he had thrown on his “nicer” pair of jeans and a blue button-up, she was dressed in a white woollen sweater and green skirt that complimented her eyes nicely. Her secret to looking effortlessly amazing: not drinking any of the eggnog. Or at least that’s what he suspected since he’d never actually seen her with a glass of it. “You look really nice.”

“Thanks, Tom.” Her eyes drifted down to the empty glasses and numerous bottles of eggnog laid out on the table. “I see you’ve been having quite the evening.”

“Someone has to drink it. Even if it’s God awful.”

She laughed. At least someone at this party thought he was funny. At least someone other than Minho wanted to be around him while he pondered his life choices.

“Will you come with me for a second?” she said, still smiling at him. “I have something for you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He followed her past Brenda and her mistletoe beau—who had finally detached themselves from one another—and up the stairs to her room. She closed the door behind them and Thomas plopped down on her bed. He’d spent more time in this room than he had anywhere else besides his own home. The light blue walls, the various movie posters, the posse of stuffed animals poised on her dresser; it all reminded him of his childhood when there was no stress in his life. When he was here at Teresa’s, it was like being home.

“I know it’s early,” she said as she rummaged through one of the dresser drawers, “but I wanted to give you your present now.”

“But I don’t have yours with me,” he tried to argue. Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time she’d given him his Christmas present days or weeks in advance. It’d become almost like a tradition to surprise him every now and then.

“That’s fine.”

She pulled something out and walked over to where he sat on her bed. Taking the spot next to him, she handed him a small gift box with a red bow. “Merry Christmas,” she said.

He undid the bow and opened the box, freezing when he saw what was inside. “Teresa.” He looked at her, then back down at the box in his hands. “You didn’t.” 

“If you’re not interested, I can sell them and get you something else.”

By some miracle, she’d gotten him two tickets to an art show happening next month—hosted by his favourite artist, known for his passion for architecture and all of its intricacies. The show was in the next state over and would only be there for a day, so Thomas hadn’t gotten his hopes up about attending.

“Of course I’m interested,” he exclaimed, wrapping her up in his arms and squeezing her tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just glad you’re happy.”

“We should make a day of it. We’ll leave early in the morning and spend the whole day there, just you and me.”

Teresa grinned. “I’d like that.”

And just like that, his earlier feelings of sorrow and self-pity evaporated as he voiced all of his suggestions for their trip out of town. Maybe this was what he needed all along to set him on the right path; maybe he just needed a sign that there was a brighter future ahead.

They stayed up there for as long as Teresa would allow before she insisted they head back downstairs to mingle with the other guests. When Thomas complained that he was perfectly happy mingling with only her right here, her face went red and she turned away. He thought it was an unusual thing for her to do, but he paid it little mind. No one was ever really themselves during the holidays.

Begrudgingly, Thomas hauled himself off her bed and followed her out in the hallway. They were at the stairs when he remembered the box sitting in her room and he excused himself for a moment to get it. When he exited her room a second time, he almost stopped dead in his tracks.

Teresa was leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs, waiting for him. Her back was to him, so she couldn’t see him approaching. As if done unconsciously, his gaze lifted to the ornamental plant hanging over her head. She stood almost perfectly underneath one of the many mistletoes scattered throughout the house and it seemed too convenient. She had to have realized where she was standing and what that would mean if Thomas walked over and stopped in front of her.

But she didn’t want that, did she? Of all the people here, there was no way she wanted to kiss Thomas, right?

In a state of panic, Thomas hurried down the hall, making sure not to let himself pause anywhere near what could be considered fair game. “Let’s go,” he said to her in passing, feeling a little better when he passed Teresa and made it down to the landing.

“Tom?” she called after him and he whirled around, looking up at her. From here, it was abundantly clear; she must have stood there on purpose. Thomas knew for a fact that she could list all the mistletoe locations off the top of her head.

“Yeah?”

She paused. Thomas thought she was desperately trying not to look up—to not give herself away. “Nevermind,” she said and followed him down the steps.

They split up afterwards, Teresa going off to socialize with some of her friends while Thomas scoured the premises for Minho. He found him outside on the lawn. Thomas joined him and they laid there in the freezing cold, staring up at the dark night sky.

Neither of them spoke, but Thomas was sure they were thinking the same thing: whatever it took, whatever they needed to do, they would find a way to get out of next year’s holiday party.

❆  ❆  ❆

Thomas jolted awake at half past noon the following day, feeling as though he’d woken from a dream. But he hadn’t drunk enough rum for the feeling to last, so he knew within seconds that everything that happened last night did , in fact, happen.

Including the incident with Teresa and the mistletoe.

He groaned as he dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen where Minho and Fry were nursing mugs of what he assumed was coffee.

“Morning,” he mumbled in his groggy state, despite knowing well enough that it was no longer morning.

Minho lifted his head briefly in greeting. “There’s some coffee left if you want it.”

“Thanks.”

He joined his roommates moments later with a cup of coffee and a single slice of toast. They must have all had varying amounts to drink last night, yet each of them looked like they’d been hit by a truck.

“Did you end up going to Teresa’s last night, Fry?” He couldn’t remember if he had seen him there. He definitely hadn’t gone with Thomas and Minho.

Fry shook his head. “I went to Gally’s. Big mistake.”

Minho winced at his words. “And you’re awake? I’d spend the whole day in bed if I had to endure one of Gally’s get-togethers.”

Gally, an old frenemy from school, was notorious for his over-the-top parties that usually resulted in severe hangovers. There was no mixing eggnog with rum at Gally’s—only mixing rum with whichever bottle of alcohol was closest. Thomas had stopped by one year for a staggering total of ten minutes before he made his escape. If he thought he couldn’t handle Teresa’s, Gally’s was a whole other ballpark.

“Speaking of Teresa’s,” said Fry. “Did you behave yourself? Or did you drink all the eggnog again?”

“I never drank all the eggnog,” Thomas protested.

“You came pretty close before,” Minho interjected.

Yeah, he really needed to lay off the eggnog.

They sipped their coffees in comfortable silence, Minho flinching any time the slightest sound was heard from down the hall or outside. Thomas was finishing off his last bite of toast when three knocks at the door startled the three of them out of their stupors.

“ Jesus .” Minho scowled at the door. “Who bothers people on a Saturday afternoon anymore?”

Frypan looked blankly over at Thomas who sighed and—albeit begrudgingly—stood from the table. He walked over to the door, pulled it open, and stared in surprise at Teresa standing before him. “Hey,” he said. “What are you—?”

“I need to talk to you,” she replied curtly, pushing past him into the apartment. Thomas fumbled to close the door behind him as he ran through a mental checklist of reasons that might have prompted this visit.

He heard Teresa greet Minho and Fry briefly, silently hoping she wasn’t in one of those moods today, though he feared she was judging by the unamused expression plastered on her face. The last thing he wanted right now was a lecture in front of his friends. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Um.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking between Teresa and his friends as if they could do something to help him. “We can talk in my room.”

Briskly, she turned on her heel and headed in the direction of Thomas’ room. When she was out of sight, Thomas whirled around to face his friends, throwing his hands up in an I have no idea what’s going on please help me gesture.

Fry mouthed good luck and returned to his almost empty mug while Minho cradled his head in his hands.

Thomas walked out of the kitchen, joining Teresa in his bedroom. He shut the door quietly behind him before turning to face her. She sat on his bed, fingers clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

“What’s up?”

“ What’s up? ” Teresa echoed. She stood, taking a small step towards him. “What happened last night?”

Thomas eyed her warily, unsure of where exactly she was going with this. 

She huffed indignantly and took another step closer, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper when she clarified, “Why didn’t you kiss me?”

Thomas was sure he’d paled enough at that comment to make a ghost proud. His mouth went dry and his tongue felt as though it was weighed down with a ton of bricks. He’d had his suspicions last night that Teresa had strategically placed herself underneath a mistletoe in the hopes that Thomas would find himself standing in front of her, but to have her confirm those suspicions? That was something else altogether.

When he didn’t immediately respond, Teresa took to pacing around the room, anxiety building. “I don’t get it. Every year, you and Minho talk about how you’ve never kissed someone under the mistletoe and I thought maybe you were waiting for a specific person. And then Aris and I broke up and I thought I’d finally get a chance to explain things to you and I had it all planned out, but you avoid those things like the plague.”

“ You were going to kiss me under the mistletoe?”

“That was part of the plan, yeah.” She looked at him, wearing a quizzical expression. “You really don’t know that part of why Aris and I ended things was because of you?”

This was news to him. Thomas had thought Teresa and Aris were pretty good together and unlike her last boyfriend, Thomas actually liked Aris. Hell, Aris was still technically a part of their larger friend group.

“What did you tell Aris?”

“I didn’t tell him I was in love with you or anything.” She rolled her eyes. “But I was okay with the breakup because I thought maybe you were interested and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested before.”

“So you’re not in love with me, then?”

“Way to make a girl feel good, Thomas.” Teresa threw up her hands exasperatedly. “I don’t know. Maybe? We’ve been friends since we were kids. It makes sense for us to be together, doesn’t it?”

It did, sometimes. Thomas used to think he and Teresa were destined to be together because of how close they’d been as kids. He hadn’t harboured those feelings towards her at the time, but he just assumed that’s how things worked. Now, it was hard to picture himself in a relationship with her after all this time. Their bond was strong, but they were friends—just friends.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, not missing the mix of anger and sadness that flashed in her eyes. “Look, Teresa. I’m sorry about last night, okay? I saw the mistletoe and I panicked. You’re one of my best friends. I’ve known you since we were kids. I didn’t know what to think.”

“Do you hear the lame excuses you’re giving me right now?”

“What do you want me to say? I care about you and I care about our friendship, but I’m not interested in the kind of relationship you’re looking for.”

She stood across from him, arms crossed and eyes glued to the floor. She’d clearly hoped for a different answer when she decided to come here today. If only she could see things from his perspective. Maybe she’d understand why he had done what he did.

Minutes ticked by and they continued to stand in silence. Thomas thought it might suffocate him, but he didn’t make an effort to say something or move to leave.

Finally, Teresa lifted her head defiantly and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I have to go meet Brenda,” she said, strangely calm. Thomas wished he could read her thoughts. Or maybe he didn’t if she was cussing him out left and right. “I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Have fun.”

She stepped around him and opened the door to leave. He stayed in his room until her footsteps receded down the hall, the front door opened and shut, and she was gone.

When he returned to the kitchen, Minho and Frypan were staring at him expectantly. Whatever they had been feeling earlier was now replaced with intrigue.

“She didn’t look happy,” stated Minho, ever the brilliant observer.

“That would be an understatement,” Fry corrected.

Thomas briefly went over the events that transpired last night from when he and Minho separated to when he and Teresa parted ways for the remainder of the night to the conversation they just had in his bedroom. His friends listened with keen interest, their expressions changing with the story. When he finished, Minho leaned back in his seat and let out a low whistle.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Minho began, settling in for what was sure to be a lecture, “you told the girl you’ve been friends with practically your whole life that you knew she wanted to kiss you and made sure that didn’t happen. And then , you rejected her in the least sympathetic way possible. She’s not going to just get over that.”

Fry hummed in response. “I have to agree with Minho. She’s probably going to hold this against you.”

Thomas groaned and took a seat at the table. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“You can’t just pretend nothing ever happened.”

“You’ll have to talk to her about it again at some point.”

“When did Christmas become so unbearable?” Thomas dropped his head in his hands. “I swear something bad always happens around this time. Do you think I’m cursed?”

“Probably.” Minho shrugged. “Why don’t you go home early this year? Get away for a bit.”

Thomas scoffed. “I wouldn’t call that getting away.” His parents lived about a half-hour drive away and though he loved them dearly, spending extra time with them for the holiday was not what he needed. What Minho was right about, however, was that he needed to get away. Someplace far away where no one could bother him and he could get through this holiday without another incident.

A light bulb went off in his mind and he raced into the other room to grab his laptop. He returned to the table with a newfound determination, flexing his fingers in preparation.

“Thomas?” Fry eyed the laptop with uncertainty. “What are you doing?”

“Getting away,” he replied and went to work.

❆  ❆  ❆

“Ooh, how about that one?”

Minho was pointing to a tiny house located along the coast in Northern Ireland. It didn’t look bad , per se, but Thomas thought it looked a bit old and on the musty side.

“No,” he said. “That’s not the one.”

“You do realize you’ll have to pick something eventually, right?”

“If you’re bored you can leave.”

“No way. I need to see what shack you end up in.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and continued scrolling. The three of them had been looking at house and apartment rentals for the last hour with no luck. Everything was either too expensive or just didn’t feel right . Thomas couldn’t explain it, but he knew he would feel it when he found the right place. Whatever “it” was.

They’d looked at a number of countries, but ultimately decided to stick to either the United Kingdom or Ireland—other European countries were a bit too festive for Thomas’ taste. Fry tried to argue that these countries would hardly be better, but Thomas chose to ignore him. If he found somewhere isolated, he could ignore the festivities going on elsewhere. Plus, if something happened and he had to call for help, at least the people there would speak the same language.

He went on like this late into the afternoon. Minho and Fry filtered in and out of the room, occasionally handing Thomas a glass of water or a snack to fuel his search. Sometimes they looked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, made a few comments, then left.

Fry was starting dinner by the time Thomas clicked on what must have been the hundredth property. He braced himself for disappointment as he read the information. It was a quaint little cottage located in Surrey. Neighbours were distant and the area was quiet, with access to the city should you wish to visit it. It was charming, Thomas couldn’t deny that, but he didn’t get his hopes up. It was only when he saw the price that he jumped up from his chair and screamed.

Minho came running out of his room and Fry jumped in fright, nearly dropping the knife he was holding.

“What is it?” Minho looked between them. “Fry, did you stab Thomas?”

Fry put down the knife and stepped away from the counter. “No! Thomas gave me a heart attack.”

“I found it.” Thomas looked up at his friends with a grin wide enough to put the Cheshire cat to shame. “I found the place.”

“Finally!” Minho exclaimed. “Did you book it?”

“I’m gonna message her right now,” he said, plopping himself back down in the chair and pulling up the renter’s contact information. He typed out a message, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate while also hoping she would see just how much he needed this. “Fingers crossed,” he whispered and pressed send.

❆  ❆  ❆

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Cottage Rental

Hi Thomas,

Thank you for your interest in renting the Surrey cottage. 

I have good news for you! Currently, no one is due to stay here for the remainder of the month. Let me know what dates you plan to be here and we can book your stay.

Please do not hesitate to message me if you have any further questions.

Sonya

❆  ❆  ❆

COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS:
14 DAYS

When the plane touched down on English soil, Thomas let out a breath of relief.

The flight had been a long and tiring one on its own, but add a crying baby and a seat neighbour with severe flying anxiety and you have the world’s worst plane ride. Thomas almost considered staying in England for the rest of his life if it meant he’d never have to get on a plane again.

The drive from the airport to the cottage took about a half-hour and was filled with awkward silence. The cab driver seemed to not want much to do with Thomas and didn’t say much to him aside from a brief greeting. After that flight, though, it was probably best that he didn’t engage in any conversations.

Today was the eleventh, marking two weeks left until Christmas Day. He’d booked the cottage for sixteen days, planning to leave after the holiday weekend. Minho and Fry pestered him continuously in the days leading up to his departure, becoming increasingly worried that maybe going to another country by himself wasn’t the greatest idea in the world. Making such a rash decision was not completely unlike Thomas, but they’d still hoped he might come to his senses and settle for a vacation at his parents’.

When they dropped him off at the airport yesterday afternoon, they made one last-ditch attempt to persuade him into staying, but he stood his ground.

What he needed was to wallow in his sorrows in a foreign country where anyone he met would only be a fleeting occurrence. He would return home in two weeks and he would never see anyone here again, so he may never have to relive everything he would go through in the coming days. Maybe he’d even get over his seasonal depression and stop hating mistletoes.

But hey, one could dream.

It was Saturday morning now—late at night back in Denver—and the sun was shining brightly in the sky. The air was bitter cold, but not even that could dampen his mood. He was off the plane, he was minutes away from the cottage, and he was very, very far from the source of all his problems.

Just like in the pictures, the cottage sat in the countryside, distant from its neighbours and the city. Thomas’ heart swelled in his chest as it came into view; this was really happening.

Thomas thanked the driver, paid him, and hauled his belongings out of the trunk. The driver sped off without another word, leaving Thomas standing there in the snow, staring in wonder at the place he would call home for the next couple of weeks.

The door opened then and a young girl stepped out. She smiled upon seeing Thomas and waddled over, avoiding the various patches of ice that covered the walkway.

“Hello!” she chirped. “I apologize for the ice. I asked my brother to drop by with some salt, but he must have forgotten.”

Thomas waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s alright. I think I can handle some ice.”

“I’m Sonya.” She thrust out a hand for Thomas to shake. “And you must be Thomas. I hope you had a good flight.”

He grimaced as memories of the flight of horrors flashed through his mind. “Not the greatest, but are they ever?”

She chuckled. “I suppose not.”

Sonya insisted on taking one of his bags as they made their way into the house. When he stepped across the threshold, he felt as though he had been transported to another world. The inside was even cozier than its facade; a small living room with couches set up next to the fireplace, a kitchen with green cabinets and a quaint dining table that couldn’t fit more than three or four people.

This was a good decision , he told himself.

Sonya relayed everything he needed to know about the cottage and its appliances in case things didn’t run as smoothly as expected. “If you need anything at all,” she said when she was done, “let me know. You have my email and my number is on the fridge should you need it.”

“Thank you again, Sonya.”

Her eyes shone brightly and something told him she wasn’t the only one doing someone a favour.

❆  ❆  ❆

Shortly after unpacking, he realized he needed to take a trip into town for some groceries. There was a small grocery store not far from here that he had seen on the drive over. He dreaded the long walk in the cold, but he refused to be beaten down so easily.

He bundled up as best as he could, grabbed one of the reusable bags from the kitchen, and forged on down the road. The walk was not so bad, though it would have been better if the ground wasn’t so slippery and the wind less harsh.

Thomas passed expansive fields—one after the other—as he walked, some with animals. Horses and mules were covered with blankets as they grazed on the other side of the fence. Sometimes he stopped to greet them, finding peace amongst them. Then he’d turn away, wave goodbye, and continue on his way.

He was thankful for the heater in the grocery store when he pushed through its doors, shivers overtaking his body. Slowly, he made his way up and down the aisles, making sure to grab only what he needed, but not so little that he’d have to come back sooner than necessary.

As he made his way to the cash register, his eyes caught on the bounty of alcohol and he hesitated. He didn’t want to drink away his problems—the eggnog taught him better than that—but there was nothing wrong with indulging himself, was there? After all, he was on vacation and the point of being on vacation was to relax. Deciding this was a debate for Future Thomas to figure out, he grabbed the cheapest bottle he could find and cashed out.

It was mid-afternoon when he returned to the cottage. He took his time putting the groceries away, figuring there wasn’t much else he planned on doing anyway and he might as well take his time. His reward was a warm cup of coffee and some fresh biscuits from the store. As he ate, he stared out the kitchen window at the sprawling hills and smiled.

He’d been in England only a few hours, but he knew then that he was where he needed to be.

❆  ❆  ❆

Later he curled up on the couch with a bowl of soup as he video chatted with Minho and Fry. They wore identical shocked expressions when the call connected, not expecting Thomas to already be so at home in his rental.

“Are you sure you’re doing alright?” Minho inquired, squinting suspiciously at Thomas. “You’re almost too relaxed.”

“This soup is delicious,” Thomas said with a smile, “and this couch is really comfortable. So, yeah, I’m doing pretty alright.”

Minho shook his head while Frypan chuckled, eyes alight with amusement. “As long as you’re happy and not crying into a pint of ice cream.”

“Well, I might be pouring myself a glass of wine later so don’t count me out on the crying part,” he half-joked.

“Thomas!” exclaimed Minho. “You know you and alcohol don’t mix well.”

“But tonight I’m drinking to celebrate , not because I’m sad.”

“Don’t make me get on a plane. I will be there by morning so I can slap you in person.”

Fry shoved Minho out of frame. “Forget him. How was the first day?”

Thomas told them all about his day. It wasn’t too exciting; he’d spent most of the time indoors. He liked the peace and quiet and being able to live on his own even if it was for a short while. He loved his roommates, but being alone had its perks, too.

They talked for a while, Fry and Minho updating him on life back in Denver. Of course, he’d barely been gone, but he still enjoyed listening to their tales. He shovelled spoonful after spoonful of soup into his mouth as he listened, the warmth in his belly growing all the while. Even on the other side of the ocean, Thomas still felt like he was in the same room as his friends.

Eventually, Fry told him they had to go to meet some friends for lunch, but that they would check in on him again tomorrow. Thomas ended the call with a smile lingering on his face. He was so consumed by this moment of bliss that he actually hummed as he did the dishes.

Outside, snow began to fall, covering the ground in all white once more. He had the urge to run outside and play in the fresh snow, but the thought of the cold held him back.

It was strange, he realized, how much a new place could change his mindset. He didn’t feel like the same person he had been twelve hours ago. Maybe it was temporary and it would wear off as his stay lengthened, but for now, he could let himself relax.

As promised, he poured himself a glass of wine and settled back down on the couch, the fire crackling next to him. He took it in—every last bit of it—for if it faded tomorrow, at least he could have tonight.

❆  ❆  ❆

He woke the next morning blanketed with warmth. It was odd since the cottage did not have a furnace, but his sleep-muddled brain disregarded that fact. Who was he to turn away from the warmth and comfort the bed provided him?

Only, as he slowly came to his senses, Thomas realized something close by—next to his head, it seemed—was making noise. He strained to listen, his muscles freezing as if any movement might deter its source. With a start, he recognized it as breathing; soft and steady, so quiet it was easy to miss.

Slowly, he turned his head. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he grazed another man’s face with his own—a man he definitely did not know and had certainly not invited into the house last night.

Eyes wide in alarm, Thomas finally found his voice and screamed. The stranger woke with a start, sending Thomas to the floor in a heap of blankets and limbs. He moved toward the wall as he clumsily untangled himself, staring in disbelief at the stranger in his bed.

“Who are you?” he gasped, eyes darting around the room for his phone. Would he have to call the police? The number was different here, wasn’t it? God, where had he put that thing?

The stranger looked almost offended at the question. “Who the bloody hell are you ?” he retorted.

“I’m Thomas,” he said, then wondered if he should be sharing his name with a stranger he’d found in bed with him. “I’m renting this place.”

“Renting? We never get visitors.”

Thomas quirked a brow. “We?”

“My sister, Sonya, is always trying to get people to rent this place,” he explained, and suddenly Thomas couldn’t unsee the resemblance. They had the same blond hair, the same soft brown eyes, the same commanding presence. “She asked me to bring some salt. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.”

“You didn’t notice the body in the bed when you broke in?”

“It’s not breaking in if it’s my place,” he countered, “and I was quite out of it last night.”

“No kidding.”

They both paused for a moment, allowing everything to sink in. This was the strangest situation Thomas had ever found himself in and he didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he felt it was wrong to kick the guy out of the house, especially since he was technically also renting from him. But he was also entitled to some privacy while he was here.

One thing he absolutely could not do, however, was make a bad impression on him in case he said something to Sonya. If he found himself kicked to the curb, then he really wouldn’t know what to do.

So, he settled on utilizing one of his better traits: his hospitality.

“Can I get you something to eat?”

❆  ❆  ❆

His hospitality, he found, was appreciated but not necessary. 

For better or for worse, Newt—he’d learned his name—declined and instead made breakfast for the both of them. Something about being picky about how he liked his eggs.

Still, Thomas insisted on helping. He couldn’t very well sit by and let Newt do everything even if he kind of owed it to him. Newt barked out instructions and Thomas scrambled through the tiny kitchen looking for whatever he needed. Of course, he’d only been here a day and was not yet familiar with where everything went. So in addition to Newt’s instructions, he typically followed up with “third drawer” or “the cabinet next to the window” because he also didn’t like his breakfast cold.

“So. . .” he said, watching the eggs sizzle on the stove. “How long have you guys had this house?”

“My parents bought it a few years after Sonya was born.” Newt grabbed two mugs from the cabinet to the left of his head without taking his eyes off the eggs. “But we hardly come here anymore.”

“Is that why your sister is renting it?”

Newt chuckled. “You’re full of questions, eh? Yeah, that’s why. She thinks she can make some extra money renting it out whenever we’re not using it.”

“It’s not a bad idea.” Thomas admired Sonya’s. He wished he had her ambition.

“No, but there are better places out there,” said Newt. “Or at least no one’s looking hard enough to find this one.”

“That’s too bad.”

When they took their seats at the table, they ate in silence. Thomas fought the urge to compliment Newt on the meal, figuring he’d heard enough of his voice by now.

In the silence, his mind wandered. When they finished eating, Newt would leave and stay away for the remainder of Thomas’ trip. Their first—and only—encounter was something so strange and unusual, but it would be all he’d have to remember him by.

More horrifying than waking up next to a total stranger who wasn’t there the night before—if that was even possible—was the realization that Thomas wanted the company. So much for getting away and spending two glorious weeks by himself. An opportunity had presented itself and he refused not to take advantage of it.

“I suppose you’ll be mentioning this to my sister when you see her,” Newt said as he scrubbed the dishes in the sink.

“If it’ll get you into trouble, no.”

Newt lifted a brow. “You only just met me.”

“Then I must be crazy.”

“Must be.”

With the dishes washed and dried, Newt wiped his hands together and huffed a breath. “I better get goin’ then. I’ve some errands to run and I figure Sonya won’t be too happy if I don’t find her a gift.”

Thomas’ head whipped up and said, louder than intended, “Wait.” Newt turned to him, eyes glinting like he knew what was coming. Seriously, what had Thomas done deciding to come here? Quickly, he added, “Can I come with you?”

“You want to come to the shops with me?”

“There’s not much to do here and I guess I should probably see more of the city.”

Newt folded his arms across his chest. “You’re putting a lot of trust in me.”

“When in Rome, right?”

“We’re in Surrey,” he deadpanned.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I know. It’s a—never mind. Can we go?”

Newt eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright,” he said, pushing away from the counter. “But you better help me find a gift for Sonya.”

It was an easy exchange, Thomas thought. “Deal.”

❆  ❆  ❆

Once they retrieved Newt’s car from a friend’s house, they were on their way. Fields blurred outside Thomas’ window as they headed for the city. They eventually gave way to buildings and parking lots, all lit up with bundles of lights and dusted with snow. Thomas preferred the countryside, but there was no denying the city was rather cozy like this.

He followed Newt into store after store, occasionally asking questions about something he saw, but never about what Newt was doing. They’d only just met after all, and Thomas wanted to respect his privacy, especially since he’d let him tag along. As much as it killed him, he didn’t need to know everything .

When it was time to find a gift for Sonya, Newt turned to Thomas to ask him his opinion. And Thomas, who had no siblings, didn’t have the first clue what to get her. Not to mention he didn’t know her like her own brother and could only give so much input.

“How about jewellery?” he suggested. “That could work, couldn’t it?”

“It could if I knew what I was looking for.”

They must have visited a dozen stores before Newt finally settled on ordering some custom-made business cards for Sonya to give to the guests that stayed at the cottage. Thomas was more than happy to help pick out colours, fonts, and styles. He had a feeling Sonya would adore the cards.

Thomas was thankful to be back in the car, warming his hands by the vents. Newt shook his head at him, but said nothing. He peeled away from the curb and headed back out of the city. While he drove, Thomas let his head fall back against the headrest and closed his eyes. It would probably take another few days for the jet lag to fade.

Newt shook him awake when they were back at the cottage. Thomas looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes and blurted, “I think I need a nap.”

This earned a chuckle from Newt. “I can see that.”

He walked him up to the door, but Thomas—ever so sleep drunk—pulled him inside. They all but stumbled their way to the couch where Newt eased Thomas down. When all of his limbs were secured on the couch, Newt grabbed a blanket from a basket in the corner of the room and draped it over him.

“Where are you going?” Admittedly, he wasn’t ready to be alone again just yet.

“Home,” said Newt. “So you don’t have to worry about waking up next to me again.”

Thomas snorted. “Are you gonna get drunk again?”

“Around my parents? Absolutely not.”

Thomas snuggled further into the blanket and smiled softly. He didn’t know what time it was, but he was more than ready to get comfortable for the night.

From somewhere else—maybe the kitchen—Newt said, “I’m gonna write my number down for you in case you need it.”

“You and your sister are the exact same,” Thomas mumbled.

“I take offence to that.” Despite his words, he almost sounded. . . pleased. But Thomas was also half-asleep, so what did he know?

Thomas registered a quiet goodbye from Newt, the soft sound of the door shutting, and the wind whistling outside before slipping into a dreamless sleep.

❆  ❆  ❆

Thomas was convinced that Newt didn’t exist.

He came to late the following morning, but for how well-rested he felt, he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t been sleeping since the first night. The only reason he knew that wasn’t so was because he clearly remembered falling asleep in the bed upstairs, not down in the living room.

It was when his stomach grumbled and forced him into the kitchen that he could confirm Newt was real. On the table was a notepad. Sure enough, a ten-digit number with his name was scribbled down.

Before he could forget, he added Newt to his contacts and stuck the note on the fridge with one of the magnets there.

❆  ❆  ❆

COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS:
9 DAYS

For the last hour, Thomas stood at the fence, waiting patiently for one of the animals in the field to come his way. Snow was falling, but it wasn’t cold today. And thankfully, too; if it had been much colder, Thomas would not have lasted so long out here.

He’d considered hopping the fence at one point and walking up to them himself, but he didn’t want to risk someone accusing him of trespassing, so he stayed put. It was probably better they wandered over to him anyway.

A dark bay mule grazed only feet away, glancing at Thomas now and then, but rarely moving closer. It was definitely mocking him, he thought.

“Come on, buddy.” He clicked his tongue, hoping that might do something. “I won’t hurt you.”

But it didn’t budge. Just kept staring at him with those big eyes.

A car rumbled down the road, making Thomas groan. With his luck, the driver would probably spook the mule and all of the progress he’d made in the last hour would be undone.

He was surprised when the car slowed and the passenger’s window rolled down to reveal Newt.

“Hey, Tommy.”

For the first time since stopping at the fence, Thomas turned away from the mule. “Hey,” he said with a small wave. “What are you doing out here?”

“Thought I might visit you.”

“Well, you know.” Thomas gestured to the stubborn mule. “It’s just me and him. You’re welcome to join us.”

Newt joined him without question. Together, they stood side by side at the fence, engaging in a staring contest with the mule. A half-hour passed before Newt finally asked Thomas what exactly he was doing, if anything at all.

“I’m hoping he’ll come over and let me pet him,” Thomas explained. “We’re building trust.”

“Why don’t you give him something to eat?” Newt suggested. “He’ll come right over.”

“That’s cheating.”

“He’ll love you.”

Thomas frowned. “I don’t wanna buy his love.”

Newt put up his hands in surrender. “Okay, we’ll wait. But can we at least go in the field?”

“I didn’t want to trespass,” he told him, feeling a bit silly now admitting it aloud.

“I know these people.” In one swift movement, Newt was hopping over the fence. He landed on the other side with a smile. “They let me sit in the field with their animals for hours as a kid.”

Thomas still felt a bit uneasy about it, but he trusted Newt. Again, it was a ridiculous notion—to trust someone you’d only met a few days ago. But he saw no reason not to. Aside from scaring the living crap out of him the morning they met, Newt had been nothing but kind to him.

There were at least three inches of snow on the ground, but Newt sat down anyway. Thomas joined him, his legs tired from standing.

The mule’s ears were up and swivelling, always alert. He watched the two intruders to see what they would do next and when he saw they were only sitting, he continued to graze, but two steps closer this time.

An hour passed and then two more, but still they sat in the field. Thomas was willing to stay there all night if he needed to. Not once did Newt suggest they go do something else or try walking to the mule instead. Thomas appreciated that he understood how important this was to him.

Because since he last saw Newt, Thomas had been riddled with doubts throughout the day—doubts about being here in England instead of home or that he had actually gotten along with Newt and might have made a new friend. His mind started wandering to Teresa at random parts of the day and that’s when the self-hatred became overwhelming. He had been so frustrated with the fact that Teresa had tried to do something that very well messed with their friendship. But then he remembered that he was here. He ran away because he decided it was all too much and he hadn’t spoken to her even once since she’d gone to his apartment.

And there was the mule. If he decided he trusted Thomas, if he chose to come to him instead of walk away, then maybe there was hope that Thomas hadn’t completely screwed up. He knew animals were the best judges of character and he hoped this mule would tell him what he desperately needed to hear.

It was darker now. The sun was making its descent and the sky turned a brilliant shade of red and orange. He was tired and shivering from the growing cold, but he was persistent. Newt must have noticed because he was pulling off his scarf and wrapping it around Thomas.

“What about you?” he looked to Newt, seeing the red blooming on his cheeks. 

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted and turned away. “Thomas, hey, look!”

Thomas followed his gaze to the mule that was now walking towards them. He trudged through the snow, stopping just before Thomas. He lowered his head and Thomas lifted a hesitant hand. A grin spread across his face when the mule pushed his muzzle against his gloved hand.

Newt slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a quick picture. Thomas looked at him briefly in wonder as the mule lowered its head again to graze by his feet.

It didn’t matter that they were losing daylight and that the weather was dropping steadily. It didn’t matter that they were both hungry and eager to sit by the fire. It didn’t matter that they’d been out here for hours. None of it mattered.

In the field, wrapped up in Newt’s scarf with him and the mule beside him, Thomas knew peace would find him this holiday season.

❆  ❆  ❆

He found he liked having Newt around much more than he’d realized. Huddled together by the fireplace holding mugs of hot apple cider, Thomas felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Something fluttered in his chest, he was giddy, his face burned—and not just because of the fire.

Newt’s presence comforted him in a way few people did. He didn’t care that he was here temporarily or that being attracted to him in ways other than physically didn’t seem practical. All he’d wanted was to experience one Christmas love. To be with someone under the mistletoe even if only once in his life. For once, he didn’t want to be alone.

“You should stay here tonight,” he said, gaze concentrated on the flickering flames. “It’s late,” he added, trying to be subtle. “You shouldn’t be on the road right now.”

A shoulder bumped his. “Okay.”

They remained like that late into the night, until the fire simmered and died, the only other creatures awake were owls, and the darkness swallowed them whole.

Newt moved to set up the couch, gathering blankets and arranging the pillows accordingly. Thomas stood off to the side awkwardly, not sure what to do in this situation. All rules went out the window after midnight, but his feelings of confusion stayed.

In the dark, with only a weak night light to illuminate the room, Newt sat atop the blankets and looked up at him. Thomas knew he was staring, but he couldn’t take his eyes off him. He was enraptured by him, in every sense of the word.

Slowly, Newt’s hand reached out, gripped the fabric of Thomas’ shirt as gently as possible and tugged him down to meet him halfway. The kiss was quick, a faint brush of their lips, but goosebumps sprouted on every inch of Thomas’ skin. He put a hand on Newt’s shoulder to keep steady and smiled, mostly to himself.

“Goodnight, Tommy,” Newt whispered against his lips.

This time, he thought, if this was a dream, then he never wanted to wake up.

❆  ❆  ❆

Thomas was just stepping out of the shower when he heard a knock at the door. He hastily dried himself off and pulled on the sweater and sweatpants he’d left out on the bed. Hair dripping with water, he hurried to the door just as the person on the other side lifted a fist to knock again.

“Sonya,” he said. She smiled at him in greeting. “What are you doing here?”

She frowned. “Didn’t you get my message?”

“Your message?”

“I texted you this morning. I’ve some more wood for the fire.” She looked over his shoulder and lifted the bag she was holding. “Can I come in? This is heavy.”

“Uh, sure,” he said as she moved past him. He closed the door behind her, shutting out the cold. 

Thomas went to follow her and froze when he came to face the living room. He’d completely forgotten that he had company last night and that said company was fast asleep on the couch. Newt’s chest rose and fell slowly as he breathed, buried under the large blanket he’d picked out.

Sonya looked from her brother to Thomas and back again. She did this another two times before she snapped out of it. “What’s he doing here?” she whispered. “Please don’t tell me he’s buggin’ you. I’ll toss him into the snow right now.”

“No, no, no.” He shook his head adamantly. “Nothing like that.”

Still, Sonya walked over to where Newt slept, picked up one of the pillows, and smacked him without hesitation.

He sprung awake, his eyes wide and hair dishevelled. His eyes landed on his sister and narrowed instantly. “What’d you do that for?”

“Why are you bothering Thomas?”

“I’m not bothering him!”

Sonya threw the pillow at him. “ We are going to have a chat while Thomas enjoys his breakfast in peace and quiet.”

“I really don’t mind—” Thomas started, but it was too late. Sonya was already dragging Newt outside, her grip like steel.

While they talked, Thomas took his time making coffee, glancing out the window every now and then to catch a glimpse of Newt. Being graced with his sister’s presence after last night was not something Thomas had anticipated, but there was nothing he could do to change it now.

Their voices rose here and there as they argued, much like how Thomas expected siblings to act around each other. He hoped they wouldn’t have to tell Sonya exactly how they met; he was pretty sure she’d bury her brother under six feet of snow in the fields if she did.

“He’s the first guest we’ve had in a while,” Sonya shouted and Thomas winced at the volume of her voice. He didn’t think she was genuinely angry more than she was simply shocked. “If you leave a bad impression—”

“We’re friends,” countered Newt. “I like him; he likes me.”

Thomas smiled at that and sipped his coffee.

“Oh my God,” said Sonya. “Oh my God . Are you shagging him?”

And then Thomas nearly spat out his coffee. As much as he was interested in finding out where the conversation would go from there, he figured he’d heard enough. He kept a firm hold on his mug and took it with him as he ascended the stairs to his room. Setting it down on the nightstand, he rolled onto the bed and pulled out his phone to check his messages. These last few days, he’d refrained from spending too much time on his phone. 

There were some texts from his group chat with Minho and Fry, updating him on their adventures back home and asking about his trip. He sent them some pictures to satisfy their curiosity, including one of him and the mule from yesterday that Newt had taken.

And then there were two missed calls. Both from Teresa. 

Thomas’ heart clenched in his chest as he stared at her name. The guilt that had been riddling his mind yesterday came flooding back to him now. She must have found out he left the country. Minho might have told her or maybe she heard it down the grapevine, Thomas didn’t know. But what he did know was that he probably owed her a phone call.

It was the middle of the night in Denver and she would be sleeping, but he dialled her number regardless. He wasn’t ready to have a full conversation with her just yet, but he could take the opportunity to explain things better.

The phone rang and rang and rang until the automated message started playing. He listened to her voice, letting the familiarity of it calm him. He wasn’t mad at her, not really. They’d worked through rough patches before and they could do it again.

“Hey, Teresa,” he said a few seconds after the telltale beep. “I know you’re sleeping right now, but I couldn’t not call you. I don’t know if Minho or Fry told you, but I’m–I’m kind of in England? It was a reckless decision, but I don’t regret it. I needed some time to get away and I need you to know that it’s not because of what you said. Or not completely, at least.

“Christmas is a bit of a sensitive time for me. It’s been like that for a while, actually. It’s probably seasonal depression, but it really sucks when everyone around you is practically drunk on happiness while all you can do is drink eggnog. Oh, by the way, that eggnog you buy is disgusting. Please stop getting it. I have no self-control and it’s going to kill me one day.”

He kept talking—or rambling, rather. He needed to leave a second message because the first one exceeded the limit. When the phone rang a second time, he feared she would pick up this time and he’d have to say what he wanted to say to her directly instead of a machine, but just like the first time, it went unanswered.

He stumbled through his words and the message was probably the least coherent thing he’d tried to articulate, but he got everything off his chest. It would be some time before he woke up and listened to his messages and even then she might not call him back right away.

Or maybe she wouldn’t call back at all. But that wasn’t his worry right now. He’d done everything he could and it would have to be enough. He left the phone upstairs, grabbed his mug of now lukewarm coffee and descended the stairs once more.

Sonya and Newt came back inside just as he touched the bottom floor. He looked at the two of them, unable to tell what they were feeling. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” said Sonya, her voice more cheery this time around. “I’ll get out of your hair now, sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize.”

She smiled and retrieved her bag from the living room. “If my brother becomes a problem.” She turned to Thomas, standing up tall as if to assert dominance over her older brother. “I will take care of him.”

Thomas grinned while Newt rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After Sonya left, the two of them headed out for a walk. Thomas teased Newt the whole way, describing how it looked seeing Sonya lecturing him and the hilarity of it all. Newt’s only response was to throw Thomas over his shoulder and toss him into the nearest pile of snow.

❆  ❆  ❆

Time no longer existed in the countryside when Thomas was with Newt. Every second with him was an eternity that he wished to hold onto forever. It was also never enough. He went to bed at night wishing Newt was still with him and he woke the next day hoping he might roll over and find him lying there.

What they had was simple and sweet; they spent as much free time together as possible, basking in the other’s company and dreading the moment they had to part ways. They were high school sweethearts who knew nothing else but this.

His favourite moments were when they sat in the field by the mule they had befriended. Sometimes they brought carrots and other treats for him. Thomas would laugh as he nibbled against his palm and Newt would smile like there was no better sight. Thomas liked to think of the three of them as a little family—an unlikely one, but a family nonetheless.

Newt showed him around the city, taking him to some of his favourite spots. They strolled through London’s streets, arms always linked. When the clock struck twelve and time paused for a moment, they danced under the street lights, too caught up in their bliss to be bothered by anyone else.

And when Thomas stopped to catch his breath, Newt would seize the moment and kiss him, effectively taking the remainder of his breath away.

❆  ❆  ❆

As the days passed and Christmas drew nearer, Newt spent more and more nights with Thomas. At first, he stayed on the couch like he had that one night. He respected Thomas’ boundaries and made certain to tell him so. Thomas couldn’t explain how much he appreciated the gesture.

Eventually, though, Thomas started to feel that signature loneliness slip in through the cracks at night, grabbing hold of him until the rising sun chased it away. He wanted Newt’s company, to have someone to wake up next to.

With Newt holding him at night, he felt safe. There, he was protected from his nightmares and fears. All throughout the night, he gripped Newt’s hand in his, letting the feeling of skin on skin ground him. He didn’t need to be afraid any longer.

❆  ❆  ❆

COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS
3 DAYS

“You look different.”

Thomas shoved a cookie in his mouth and shrugged. Newt had left them for him with a note promising he’d stop by later.

“He’s relaxed,” said Fry. “Not being stressed changes you, you know.”

Minho shook his head. “No, that’s not it.”

With all the time he'd been spending with Newt lately, Thomas hardly spoke to Minho or Fry. The seven-hour time difference didn’t help either. By the time he responded to their texts, it was either the middle of the night for them or super late for Thomas. Minho had finally gotten fed up and scheduled a mandatory video call.

Thomas missed his friends, but he would see them again in less than a week. With Newt, he was on borrowed time.

“So what have you been up to?” Fry asked. “We barely hear from you anymore.”

“I’ve been. . . busy,” said Thomas. “Long days.”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “Uh huh. Doing what?”

“Well,” he started, bracing himself for what was about to come, “I made a friend.”

“I knew it!” Minho screamed. He jumped out of his chair and went out of frame. Fry motioned for him to come back. Thomas couldn’t contain his laughter. “He met someone!” He exclaimed, taking a seat again. “You met someone!”

“We’re only friends.”

“You should see your face right now.” Minho mimed throwing up. “You’re lovestruck. It’s gross.”

Fry smacked his shoulder. “Leave him be.”

“Details, please. Even though I’ll probably regret asking.”

Thomas took a bite of another cookie. “His family owns the cottage. You know the girl I messaged about renting the place?” They nodded. “He’s her brother.”

“Sly dog,” Minho teased.

For the sake of getting Minho off his back, he shared some details about Newt, though not all of them. He did tell them how they met which earned gasps and a barking laugh from Minho. Thomas didn’t bother fighting the smile growing on his face. It wasn’t funny then, but it was now.

Minho badgered him with some more questions and Fry gave up trying to contain his excitement. Thomas answered most of them, but some things he wanted to keep between him and Newt.

They talked for a couple of hours, having quite a lot to say to each other. Thomas was in the middle of telling a story when a knock at the door interrupted him.

“Is that him?” Minho pulled the camera closer so that only he was in the frame. “Let us say hi. I promise I’ll only embarrass you a little.”

“ Goodbye , Minho.” Thomas waved, a wicked grin plastered on his face. “Talk to you later!”

“Thomas!”

He ended the call before he could say another word.

❆  ❆  ❆

The promise of water drew him to the kitchen around four in the morning. Thomas slipped out of bed as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Newt. He crept downstairs to the kitchen and filled a glass. He was sleepy, but he let himself linger for a few minutes, taking his time as he drank.

On the table, his phone lit up with a notification. Interest peaked, he picked it up to see what it was for.

He almost dropped the glass when he saw Teresa had left him a voicemail. Like he’d done a few nights ago, she’d called him when she knew he wouldn’t answer.

He took a deep breath, pressed the number one on the keypad, and waited for the message to play.

“Hey, Tom. It’s me, but I guess you know that.” She sighed before continuing, “I got your messages, thank you. I think you’re out of your mind for leaving the country, but I think I understand, or at least I’m trying to.

“I don’t like how we left things between us either. You’re still my best friend and I love you. But what you said hurt me and I needed time, too. I didn’t go as far as you though.” She laughed. “You’ve always been impulsive. I shouldn’t be so surprised.

“You should know that I wasn’t in the best headspace either. I loved having the party, I did, but I think of Aris a lot when Christmas comes around. We’re still friends, you know that. It’s just—I miss him sometimes. That’s expected, isn’t it? We got together around Christmas so it makes sense that he’s on my mind more now than any other time of the year.

“I meant what I said to you that day. I did think you might be interested in me and that really got me thinking. But our friendship is more important than any of that. So, I hope you’re enjoying your trip, I hope you have a good Christmas, and I’ll see you when you get back.”

The message ended and Thomas stood in the kitchen, replaying the words in his head. Their friendship was not over, Teresa shared the same feelings as him about their fight, she wanted things to be okay between them.

And so they would be.

❆  ❆  ❆

Thomas laid his head on Newt’s chest, the sound of his heartbeat and Newt’s hand on his back slowly lulling him back to sleep. He liked lazy mornings like this. If he could, he’d stay here forever.

“Do you want to come with me to my parents’ for Christmas?”

Thomas lifted his head to meet Newt’s gaze. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want you to spend Christmas alone.”

Up until this point, Thomas had assumed he would spend the day with Newt. His cheeks flushed red. He should have known Newt would be staying with his family.

“Will they be okay with it?” Thomas asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Tommy.” Newt pulled him closer and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Sonya already knows I spend most of my time here, so I’m sure my parents know something.” He groaned at the idea of Newt’s parents talking about him. “They’ll love you. Come with me.”

He couldn’t argue with that. If it meant he got to spend more time with Newt, there was no way he would ever turn him down. “Okay,” he agreed. “But. . . Newt, I’m leaving soon. We should talk about it.”

“You’re here right now. That’s what matters.”

“I won’t always be. I’m gonna miss you.”

Newt sat up, pulling Thomas with him. He placed his hands on Thomas’ face so he would look at him. “Listen to me,” he whispered. “I want to make the most of the time you have left here. We knew you wouldn’t be here forever, so let’s not dwell on it now.”

“You’re not gonna move on like nothing ever happened?”

“Tommy, don’t you understand?” Newt wiped away the tears that fell with a swipe of his thumb. “I could never forget you.”

❆  ❆  ❆

COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS
0 DAYS

Newt’s parents were every bit as lovely as he described. They greeted Thomas at the door with hugs and smiles and a cheery “Happy Christmas!”

Newt’s mom grabbed his hands and led him throughout the house, insisting he deserved a grand tour. The tour concluded in the kitchen where Newt and Sonya were bickering over the table setup.

“We’ve never done it this way,” Newt argued. “You’re out of it.”

“Is this an early sign of old age?” Sonya jabbed.

“You watch it, Lizzy.”

“Alright you two, knock it off,” their mother interrupted, pushing them apart. “Get Thomas something to drink. Or have I raised animals?”

Newt grabbed a glass for Thomas and snickered. “I don’t know. Lizzy looks quite like this mule Tommy and I see all the time.”

“Oh, you’re in for it now.”

The day was much the same. Newt and Sonya took every opportunity to make fun of each other while their parents shook their heads at their antics. Thomas joined Sonya in teasing Newt here and there, though Newt didn’t protest him too much. That only fueled Sonya’s fire.

Thomas sat next to Newt as he watched them open their gifts. Christmas music played from a record player and the lights on the tree twinkled gold. It wasn’t all that different from the way he spent Christmas with his family back home. The thought made him smile.

Newt pulled him aside later while his parents and Sonya were cleaning up. “I feel terrible,” he said. “I wanted to get you something, but you know how bad I am at finding gifts.”

“Newt, I don’t need anything.” He took his hands in his and squeezed. “Believe me, meeting you is enough to last me a lifetime.”

“Lizzy’s not here. You don’t have to keep embarrassing me.”

“Ha ha. I do have something for you, though. It’s nothing crazy.” He rummaged through his coat pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in green, topped with a white bow. “Merry Christmas, Newt.”

Newt smiled gratefully as he tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box. “Tommy, are you kidding me? You’re making me look awful right now.”

Inside was a simple gold ring. Thomas had run around town looking for the perfect one. He must have driven dozens of people crazy in his search. “I realize now it may be a bit much since we’re. . . well, whatever we are.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “It’s gold like the sun. Like you.”

Newt looked up, the smile on his face unlike anything Thomas had ever seen. He threw his arms around Thomas’ neck and squeezed him tight. “Thank you.”

When they pulled apart, Newt chuckled. “You might hate me for this,” he said, “but look up.”

Thinking nothing of it, Thomas did as he instructed. His mouth dropped at the familiar sight of his old nemesis: the mistletoe. It seemed unbelievable—impossible even—but it was real. For once, he didn’t despair at the sight of it. Excitement flooded through his veins when he said, “You know the rules.”

Newt wasted no time in leaning down to capture Thomas’ lips in a sweet, sweet kiss.

Now this , Thomas thought. This was definitely worth the wait.

❆  ❆  ❆

On their final night together, they lay awake in bed, limbs tangled together, not a sound to be heard other than Newt’s soft breaths.

They knew what was coming. They’d been preparing for it, but they could never be properly ready for what tomorrow would bring.

“You were a nice surprise,” Thomas whispered into the night. It was an understatement; Newt was the best surprise.

“I bet you thought otherwise when you first saw me,” Newt retorted.

The infamous first meeting. How could he ever forget?

“I wish tonight would never end.”

Newt pulled him closer. Thomas was more open about what this impending goodbye was doing to him—how it was making it feel. He knew Newt felt it, too. He just showed him that he did instead of telling him.

As hard as he tried to grab hold of this moment, time slipped through his fingers and hours passed. His eyelids grew heavy with sleep, but he didn’t want to be separated from Newt—not even in sleep.

“You’re tired,” said Newt, also awake. “Get some rest.”

“But—”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

So he gave in, letting his exhaustion wash over him and consume him until he was on the brink of unconsciousness. Just as he was about to fall asleep, Newt spoke up—the quietest noise, but audible still.

“I love you.”

Thomas had never heard a sweeter sound.

❆  ❆  ❆

The wait for the cab was torture.

Thomas dreaded its arrival, but the feeling in his stomach that grew with every passing second was too much to bear.

Newt had offered to drive him to the airport, but he declined. It would be easier to say goodbye here in the privacy of the cottage than in a busy airport with hundreds of people hurrying in and out.

Thomas’ luggage sat by the door while he sat at the table with Newt. Their hands were locked together. Soon, they would have to break apart and life would go back to the way it was before, though nothing was really the same. Thomas wouldn’t wake up to Newt or have him only a short distance away. He’d be seven hours behind with an ocean separating them.

It was cruel how life worked sometimes. Thomas had had the best time of his life here, but he’d never felt more pain than he did right now. How was it fair that this person he cared for so much was perfect for him, but came from a completely different world? Their paths had crossed, by chance, and now they would diverge.

Outside, a horn honked and a car slowed to a stop in front of the cottage. Thomas met Newt’s gaze and found it was like looking in a mirror. Neither one of them wanted to say it, but they knew. It was time to go.

Newt helped him with his things like Sonya had that first day. When everything was settled in the car, Thomas turned to Newt. He never thought saying goodbye could hurt so much.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

It should not have been so heartbreaking for Newt to kiss him goodbye, but she didn’t miss the way his heart shattered as he pulled away.

“Will you text me when you land?”

“Yes,” he said breathlessly. He would find any excuse to text him. He would not go a day without speaking to him.

The car pulled away and Newt trudged up the path to the cottage. Thomas let his head fall back and closed his eyes. It was a good holiday, he told himself. He had not made a mistake in coming here. He would remember it for the rest of his life. But all good things must come to an end.

He watched out the window as the fields passed him by. Memories flashed in his mind as they drove; the days he spent out here, all of the walks he went on with the Newt, the visits to the mule and the other animals he’d come to love. He wished he could trap his memories on a disc and play them back whenever he desired.

Sure enough, the car was coming up to the field where the mule grazed. He recognized him before he could see him fully. Thomas smiled as the mule trotted up to the fence as the car went by. He heard him bay, as if he understood what was going on—like he was saying goodbye.

A tear trickled down Thomas’ cheek, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away. It was only the first of many to come. He could only imagine what Minho and Fry would think when he returned a babbling, teary-eyed mess.

He thought of who he was when he arrived in England, when he felt alone and out of place in his own life. He loved Christmas, but it brought pain every year. There was no reason for him to expect that to change, but he met Newt, and how could that not have flipped his life upside down? Newt was the greatest thing that could have ever happened to him on this trip. It had only been two weeks, but he was a new person now and much of that was because of Newt.

“Stop,” Thomas said, barely realizing he’d spoken at all.

“Pardon?” The driver eyed him in the rearview mirror.

“Go back.” His voice was firm this time, certain. “Turn the car around.”

“Did you forget something?”

“Yes.”

The driver huffed a breath, but slowed the car to a stop. “It’s a narrow lane, kid. You’ll have to give me a minute.”

But Thomas didn’t have a minute to spare. He opened the door, nearly falling out in his haste to get moving, and tore off down the road. The driver called after him, but he ignored him. He was reckless and impulsive; there was no time to second guess or explain.

The ground was covered in snow and slippery with ice. Thomas’ legs burned with effort and his face was probably cherry red, but he didn’t care. He waved to the mule as he ran past and he bayed again in response.

He paused a few times to catch his breath, his energy slowly draining. But then he was on his way again, his determination growing with every step he took.

He burst through the door of the cottage; breathless and full of energy, shivering and burning all the same. “Newt!” he called out.

Newt appeared at the bottom of the stairs, eyes red and wide in disbelief. He laughed like it made complete sense for Thomas to be here right now. Like it would have been out of character for him to go as planned.

“I thought of something,” said Thomas, stepping closer. “In the car.”

Newt’s voice was rough when he asked, “And what’s that?”

“I can’t spend Christmas here and not New Year’s.” He was laughing now, too. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

Thomas stepped closer again until Newt was only a breath away. He lifted his hands to rest behind his neck, fiddling with Newt’s long hair. He was beautiful. So, so beautiful.

“You think Sonya will let me stay longer?”

Newt pressed his forehead to Thomas’. “Are you joking? She would kick me and my parents out so she could give you the house.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

They stood there, breathing each other in, never getting enough. Thomas gave Newt a peck on the cheek and smiled. No, there really was no one quite like him. And there would never be a Christmas quite like this one.

“So I have you for a little while longer?” Newt’s voice was quiet, hesitant—like speaking any louder would pull him out of this dream. But it wasn’t a dream. None of it had been a dream. Everything was real.

“Newt, don’t you understand?” Thomas mimicked Newt’s words from Christmas Eve. Newt pinched him when he realized, but hummed quietly, content to be wrapped up in Thomas’ arms. “You have me forever.”