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Seb has not nor ever will be the holly, jolly Christmas type. He’d always fallen into the distinct and easily identified category of total Scrooge.
But Willow? The girl practically screamed Christmas.
From the moment December started, she had Christmas music playing non-stop in their tiny flat. He complained about it constantly, but he secretly treasured coming home every day to hear her angelic voice drifting through the air.
“Hey, babe!” she called. “I made you something!”
Gratefully, Seb accepted the hot chocolate she handed his way. The mini-marshmallows and candy cane were a little too festive for his tastes, but between the icy wind and blankets of snow on the ground, his hands were numb.
He flopped onto the couch, blowing on the hot beverage and watching as his girlfriend waved a ribbon in front of Doom. The cat tracked the motion out of the corner of her eye, feigning indifference before pouncing. A small smile crossed his face as he watched them play; he loved the way Doom had accepted Willow moving in. Like her owner, Doom didn’t like most people, but Willow was an exception.
Eventually, Willow crawled into the spot next to Seb. Without missing a beat, Doom jumped up, nuzzling into the space between them. They probably looked like an idyllic Christmas card: Willow and Seb all snuggled up together, the cat in their laps, framed by the snow-covered window behind them.
But Seb didn’t care about that stuff. He just cared about Willow.
“I can’t believe it’s almost our first Christmas together,” she mused.
He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “This is a big deal for you, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is! It’s Christmas, babe! There’s still so much we haven’t done together. I mean we’ve done the tree and the decorating stuff, but there’s Christmas dinners with the families, baking cookies, sleigh rides, Christmas rom coms, ice skating…”
“Woah, Willow! Slow down. Do you really do all that stuff?”
“Not every year, but I try to do as many as I can.”
“That sounds exhausting ,” Seb admitted. “It’s just the Holidays, nothing special.”
Her dark green eyes studied his face carefully. “Did you really not have any Christmas traditions growing up?”
“Not really. I mean, mum and dad would do the whole tree and gifts thing, but it never really felt special or anything.”
“But there must have been something you liked.”
“Well, there was one thing.” Seb begrudgingly admitted, a fond smile on his face as he reminisced. “My grandma and I used to make Melomakarona every year. I’m sure I got more honey on the counters than in the cookies, but it was the one thing I really looked forward to.”
Willow’s face lit up brighter than the lights decorating the tree behind her. “Do you think you can find the recipe?”
“I mean, I’m sure Yaya gave it to dad, but…”
“Great!”
That’s how Seb found himself standing in his kitchen, trying to decipher his grandma’s tight cursive, as Willow excitedly danced around him.
“Alexa. Play Punk Goes Christmas on Spotify,” she commanded.
Seb looked up in shock. “Punk Goes Christmas?”
“I know it’s not your usual style, but I figured you’d enjoy The Ready Set and Man Overboard more than Michael Bublé. Do you want me to play something else?”
His heart felt like it was going to swell out of his chest. It was the little things like this, Willow trying to merge his interests into her yearly traditions, that were what made him fall more and more in love with her every day.
“No! Babe, it’s-it’s perfect.”
The relieved smile on her face could’ve made even the abominable snowman feel warm and fuzzy.
“So, what’s first?” she asked.
Her tone implied as if this was something she’d do for anyone, as if she didn’t understand just how much it meant to him.
“Ugh…first we make the syrup…”
In no time at all their small flat was filled with the familiar scent of Seb’s childhood. It was amazing how just the smell of orange mixed with cinnamon and clove reminded him of Yaya. He remembered her standing over him, a wide smile on his face, as she helped him stir the sticky mixture; could almost hear her scolding him whenever he overworked the dough.
It was with the same amount of care that he instructed Willow, wrapping his arms around her to help her knead the dough.
“Seb!” she giggled. “I’m not that helpless!”
“I know. I just… this means a lot to me. That you’re here, helping me make my grandma’s recipe. And I wanted to show you that. In my own little way, I guess.”
Willow sighed and relaxed into his arms. With a little nuzzling from Seb, she leaned back to accept his kiss. God, he’d never get tired of kissing her.
People often didn’t understand their relationship. Seb was moody, preferring to keep to himself and not let others in. Willow was his opposite in every way. She was bright and bubbly and made friends with everyone she met.
But no one knew what they shared. Willow somehow managed to bring out the best in him; never failed to chase away the storm cloud that liked to form overhead. And he wasn’t always the best at making sure she knew how much these moments meant to him. But he was going to be damned if he let her forget this.
“We’ve got cookies to make!” she protested, squirming gently in his arms.
“Mm-hmm. Just one more minute.”
One more minute turned into two and then five, but eventually, they had a platter of Melomakarona. With a flourish, Willow dusted the last of the walnuts over the cookies and popped one into her mouth.
“Ohhh, these are lush,” she moaned. “I see why you like them. So much better than gingerbread.”
“So now that I’ve opened my icy heart and let you know my deep dark Christmas secret, what’s your favorite Christmas tradition?”
Willow looked uncharacteristically shy as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Caroling,” she whispered.
“Caroling? Like singing ‘Deck the Halls’ on some random stranger’s doorstep?”
“Yeah. My Uncle George started it ages ago. The whole family gets together and does the entire neighborhood. When I was little, I loved walking through the snow and playing with my cousins. But now… I love seeing the faces of the people we sing to. It’s not much, but they appreciate the gift all the same.” Those eyes, the exact same shade of green as the wreath on the door, were filled with so much worry as they met his. “You’ll go, right babe?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Let me check my schedule…One o'clock, wallow in self-pity. Four thirty, stare into the abyss. Six thirty, dinner with me. I can't cancel that again! Seven o'clock, wrestle with my self-loathing... Sorry, love. Looks like I’m booked!”
Willow laughed. “Alright, alright, I get it you big grinch.”
“If it’s important to you, I’ll be there. But I can’t promise I’ll love it.”
“Thanks, babe.”
Four days later, Willow practically dragged him to the bedroom, her excitement almost palpable. “Come on, come on, come on. I’ve got something to show you!”
“There’s no way I’m wearing that,” Seb said, stopping cold in his tracks.
Draped on the bed were two matching Christmas sweaters, complete with fake stitched snowflakes and an image of a cat wearing a Santa hat.
Willow looked up at him, her wide eyes and pouty lip instantly dissolving Seb’s resolve. “Pleeeease.”
“Ugh. Fine. But ‘Meowy Catmas’? Really?”
“It made me laugh. And Doom likes it, don’t cha Doom?”
The cat was watching the exchange with disinterest, her yellow eyes trained on the sweater in Willow’s hands. If Seb was lucky, she was plotting ways to shred both sweaters into unrecognizable scraps.
He grumbled and groaned, but he pulled the sweater over his head anyways. They both knew that he wouldn’t ever say no to her.
Seb regretted saying yes almost instantly. He liked Willow’s family, he really did, but they were… a lot.
Her mom had managed to wrestle him into a Santa hat, Uncle Stephen had already made four (very loud) jokes about Seb being whipped, and Willow’s older brother was organizing the herd of people by vocal range, plotting out the course of their caroling.
Seb was seriously considering cutting his losses and bolting as they approached the first house. I mean really, ‘Frosty the Snowman’? God, it was one of the worst possible songs they could’ve chosen. A cheery, happy ball of snow? Ugh.
At least he could hide behind Willow’s brother, singing softly enough that no one could pick out his low baritone. And it felt like they were singing forever . The elderly couple beamed at them for at least five songs.
The whole scene was sweet enough to make his teeth ache.
And it just repeated. Over and over and over again. Every house was the same: sing, smile, hide, sing some more, internally groan at how cheesy this all was, say goodbye, repeat.
But every so often, Willow’s lovely soprano would drift above the rest, an angelic sound that made it just a little more tolerable. Or she’d catch his eye, her face shining with joy and suddenly, he really wasn’t that miserable.
Seb had had his fill of ‘O Holy Night’ and ‘Sleighride’ by the time they were finished. In fact, he never wanted to hear another Christmas song in his life. Not that Willow would allow that of course.
“We didn’t scare you off, did we?” her brother asked, slinging his arm around Seb’s shoulders.
Seb definitely needed to decompress after being bombarded with Christmas cheer for the better part of an hour. He was surrounded by optimism and overflowing joy; it was gross.
He continued without waiting for an answer, “Gonna have to get used to this if you want to stick around!”
“ Forrest ,” Willow protested. “I’m going to steal my boyfriend for a bit. I’ll see you later!”
With that she looped her mitten-clad arm through Seb’s and practically dragged him away from her family.
The stars were twinkling overhead, each house they passed decorated for the Holidays. Snow blanketed every surface, dipping the world in pure white.
“Be honest with me,” she said, “How bad was it?”
“It wasn’t too bad.”
She gave him a questioning look. The snow was starting to come down a little harder now, sticking to her curls and drawing a rosy flush to her cheeks.
“I said be honest.”
He chuckled. “I am, I promise. Caroling isn’t really my thing, but… seeing you so happy. It made it all worth it.”
“Why Seb, I do believe your heart might have grown three sizes tonight.”
Jesus, he loved this woman. There was a good chance his heart really had increased in size; he could feel it swelling up and pressing against his ribcage as it overflowed with his feelings for her. Romantic things weren’t his forte, he specialized in snarky comments and brooding. But there was something about Willow that at least made him want to try to be better at those things.
“If it did, it’s your fault,” he muttered.
Willow’s laugh was clear as a bell in the cold night air.
What’s that saying about bells and Christmas? ‘Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings’? Well, Seb was no angel, but her laugh certainly made him feel like he could fly.
He scooped a giggling Willow into her arms, swallowing her protests with a kiss. She melted into his embrace instantly, relaxing into the kiss. Seb had no idea how long they stood there, standing outside some stranger’s home, holding each other close.
“Merry Christmas, Willow. I love you.”
She beamed up at him. “Merry Christmas, Seb.”