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Christmas had to be Darcy’s least favourite time of year. She hated her family, she hated the way they treated her. It was dreadful hating your family, but especially on Christmas Day, the supposed happiest day of the year. For many years in a row, she watched her siblings get nice Christmas presents. Everything from toys to stationery, electronics to video games, they got it, except for Darcy, who always had to settle for hand-me-downs. She watched as the other girls at Higgs would have new shoes or have something new to show off, while Darcy would hide the old socks with holes she’d have to wear.
Things didn’t change, Darcy still hated Christmas, even when she met Tara Jones. Tara would try to message them as much as she could, but her family took up much of her time, leaving Darcy lonely on Christmas.
It was the Christmas of 2021, when Charlie had come home and when the Paris Squad, as Darcy had deemed it, was finally back together. The 23rd meant a sleepover at Nick’s house to celebrate Charlie being home for the first time in months, and Darcy had never felt more at home than ever. They had camped around Nick’s open fire within the living room, stayed up all night talking about awful teachers they had, life experiences, previous Christmases, almost everything under the sun.
The Christmas talk got to Darcy, prompting her to get out of the living room and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass out of the cabinet and filling it with water. She watched as the first snows of winter passed by the window chills being sent down her spine.
“You okay, Dar?” Tara asks, hugging the blonde from behind, her dark curly tickling the back of Darcy’s neck and making her feel at home in the other’s hold.
“Not really.”
“Why? Do you want to talk about it?” She frowned.
“Yeah. I just,” They paused. “I don’t like Christmas. It hasn’t been all of this family love bullshit everyone is talking about. I got garbage presents if I even did get presents. My parents just showed me that every year I was the last thought.”
Tara only hugged tighter as Darcy sobbed into her shoulder. The blonde hated crying but she couldn’t stop herself when she realised how bad the words tasted on her tongue. That she was the unloved child of the family, the odd sheep, the outcast of her own family was too depressing on her tired brain.
“You don’t need them. We’re your family now,” Tara comforted, holding Darcy’s cheek in her hand and wiping the tears away with her thumb. “And I love you so much, and everyone else does. We’re going to give you the best Christmas ever.”
Darcy nodded, as Tara kissed her forehead.
Tara held her girlfriend’s hands as they walked back to the living room, the warmth of the fire making the rest of their friend’s cheeks red. Tara opened up Darcy’s and her own sleeping bad, creating a make-shift bed for them, snuggling under the covers with blush pink faces and large smiles.
“I love you,” Darcy says from under the covers in her girlfriend’s arms.
“I love you too,” Tara smiled, “This Christmas is going to be the best one ever!”
And as Tara always is, she was right, it was the best Christmas ever.