Chapter Text
Charlie
Winter in Wilmington reeked of hopelessness and misery, Charlie Cooper concluded while watching a sad drop of rain dribble down the window of the recording studio. His newly signed band had been riding a high since getting recruited by Danny Mace's label at the end of summer, a high that ended abruptly when the pressure of real obligation hit like a truck. September was something out of a fairy tale and everything he'd ever dreamed of. He saved the house, got the girl, and the band finally had an actual shot at becoming something— something bigger than niche local artists who played at college bars or weddings. They had played a few more gigs in the fall while simultaneously working on new music, but hadn't had any more viral moments that impressed the big label that took a chance on them. No one was saying it, but everyone was thinking it. If we don't finish the album by New Year's, we're fucked.
It wasn't easy to coordinate writing, practicing, and recording sessions during the semester. All the boys stayed local, which was a relief. While they each worked part-time jobs, they were dedicated to the band. The label offered much-needed financial support, giving them proper places to practice and record, but everyone was also saving independently. Wyatt had finally moved out on his own and was paying rent, but Topher’s parents eventually came around, and he moved back home. He had to promise them that if the band weren't doing well after a year, he would go back to his initial plan of attending college. Neil was helping with his dad’s medical bills, especially since the painting business slowed during the colder months. And unfortunately, Charlie's regular drives between Wilmington and Chapel Hill were not cheap. They gathered a few times a week and scheduled regular calls with Sophia to work on lyrics. To Charlie's dismay, it was starting to seem like a few days a week was not enough. The more they revisited and reworked rejected songs, the more everyone’s spirits sank. Inspiration was nonexistent, and making music was beginning to feel like work instead of fun. But wasn’t that what he wanted? For it to be his whole life? He knew he did, but none of them had anticipated this level of stress.
"Man, I hope it snows this year."
Charlie's train of thought was interrupted by Neil, who was thinking out loud while mindlessly tapping a rhythm on the side of Bez's drum kit.
Bez swatted his hand away. "In Wilmington? Yeah, a winter miracle would be nice."
"You know what else would be nice? Finishing this album," Topher responded begrudgingly.
"I agree," said Bez. "Our progress is totally at a standstill. The label is going to drop us if we don't finish the album by the 31st."
"Screw a New Year's kiss. If we somehow manage to complete this album, I'll be making out with the vinyl when the clock hits twelve." Bender rolled her eyes at Neil's comment and stood up.
"I'll leave you guys to it and stop being a distraction." She picked up a pillow and threw it at Charlie's head, implying that his woeful self needed to get off the couch and get back to recording. "You'll figure this out, you just need a reset. Something to bring back your motivation."
Just as she was halfway out the door, the sound of a phone ringing cut through the silence.
Charlie looked at the caller ID. "It's Danny." He answered, and heard Danny's voice on the other end. Everyone in the room watched in anticipation as Charlie's expression changed from nervousness to bewilderment to pure shock. He was nodding his head vigorously and responded, "Yes, of course." His eyes widened. "Tomorrow morning? Okay, we'll start packing."
"Well?" Wyatt asked, after he had hung up.
"Well," Charlie replied, "You guys know the big Christmas music festival that happens every year in New York? One of the acts just dropped out at the last minute. The whole group got stranded due to snow, flight was cancelled. They're Canadian, I think. They won't make it in time to perform."
"Does this mean..."
Charlie grinned. "They want us to fill in for them. We're flying to New York, tomorrow."
The room's energy instantly shifted and the group erupted into excited cheers. This was the reset they needed.
Maybe winter wasn't hopeless after all.
Charlie rushed home to talk to his parents after getting the call. The band decided to cut their recording session short and start packing right away, since their flight left the next morning at eight. It was only early evening, but the sky was an inky shade of indigo when they locked up the studio, and the drizzle of rain had stopped. The cold air stung his face. December dragged on, wet and dark, and the only light on the street came from houses with sad, half-hearted decorations, looking bare and incomplete without the snow. He found himself agreeing with Neil: Snow would breathe life into the town at Christmas and paint a much prettier picture than what he was currently looking at. He booked it home, only stopping to pick up cough syrup and some chamomile tea on the way.
"You're leaving us on Christmas Eve?" His mother turned around at his sudden announcement, eyebrows furrowed. She placed her wooden spoon down and stopped stirring the soup she was preparing for dinner.
"I'm sorry, Mom, I know the timing is awful."
Danny must have been feeling the Christmas spirit and decided to be extra generous because she got flights for Amanda and Bender to tag along. Charlie felt a pang of disappointment at the fact that Sophia wouldn't be there, though he understood. All the girls were home for the holidays, but they had family obligations keeping them busy. Sophia said that Christmas with her dad was a priority, especially since he had just come home from rehab a few weeks prior. The festival itself was on Boxing Day, but their label thought it would be best to fly everyone in as soon as possible to avoid last-minute flight cancellations or any further disasters that could jeopardize the festival's acts. That meant the Runarounds would spend Christmas Eve in a hotel room and Christmas Day exploring the city while preparing their performance. Maybe he would even get to see the Rockefeller Tree. Charlie knew his parents weren't happy, but he couldn't contain his excitement. It all felt so surreal, Christmas in New York with his band. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
His mother sighed. "Your father and Tatum are seriously ill, so I guess we weren't going to be having a proper Christmas dinner anyway." She pulled him in for a hug. "I'm proud of you. This is a big deal."
"Thank you." He hugged her tight before suddenly drawing back. "Hey, you're not sick too, right? I can't be catching anything before this show."
A flu had been spreading around the town and his father and sister were currently lying on the couch binge-watching the 'Home Alone' series with a nasty fever and cough.
She laughed. "No, I feel perfectly fine. Go pack!"
Charlie set the cough syrup and tea down on the counter for Tatum and bounded up the stairs. Checking his phone, he noticed a few texts from Pete, congratulating him on the festival and saying how badly he wished he could go–- he was currently grounded, again. There was also a flight update from the airline and a missed call from Sophia. He quickly rang back.
Before having the chance to utter a single word, she enthusiastically picked up. "New York?! Charlie, this is incredible!"
Packing could wait another hour. He beamed and sat on the floor, leaning against his bed, an empty suitcase beside him.
"I know, I really can't believe it." He paused. "I do wish you were coming, though. New York is supposed to be amazing at this time of year."
"I do too, but you know-"
"Christmas with your dad. I understand, and I'm so happy he's home."
They went back to discussing New York, and Sophia started detailing everything he had to do so she could live vicariously through his adventure. He could hear her gushing with excitement through the phone, and his heart was filled with gratitude for a person who celebrated his accomplishments as if they were her own. The call stretched late into the night, and by ten o’clock, his suitcase was still empty.
Neil
"This is your chance to change your fate." An eerie voice echoed through the old hallway. Neil looked down. He was wearing satin pyjamas, slippers, and holding a dripping wax candle. He squinted down the hallway, trying to find the source of the echoing voice. A shadowy figure took shape, wearing a long robe with the hood covering its face. "Christmas is the best time to transform your life. Don't waste opportunities and live a life of regret, Neil Crosby. If you don't go after what you want, you might lose it forever." He tried to speak, to ask what he was meant to pursue, what he truly wanted, but no words came. He raised the candle higher, and the figure drew back its hood. The familiar face made Neil stumble back and the hallway caved in around him as he reached for her, but she was already gone.
Bender?
Neil jerked awake. His neck was cramping painfully, and he blinked hard to focus his vision. Glancing at the small screen in front of him, he discovered he had only been asleep for forty-five minutes of their two-hour flight. He drank a little water and tried to get comfortable again, yet the dream lingered in the back of his mind. He was all too aware of Ruthie sitting in the aisle seat next to him, leg pressed against his while she slept peacefully with her headphones on.
The dreams usually began like this. They’re in a public setting, maybe a crowded room, but she’s the only one he's looking at. Everything is normal until it's not. First, it was the game show. The next night was a college football game. He was on the field playing, and she was on the sidelines as a cheerleader. But every time he tried to get close enough to talk to her, he got violently tackled to the ground. A few nights later, his dream transported him back to the land of Oz, except it wasn’t the estate in the mountains; it was the real deal. To make it worse, everyone kept bursting into song spontaneously. The dreams kept coming, more vivid each night, and Neil wished he could click his heels like Dorothy and teleport out of them.
Each night was a different setting. But every time, he woke up with a weird feeling in his chest.
This one was peculiar, though. It was just him and her, and it seemed more intense. She was... what was she, exactly?
He leaned over and shook Topher awake, who was lightly snoring on the other side of him, leaning against the window. "Hey, hey, what’s that Christmas story with the cranky guy and the ghosts that haunt him?"
For it to appear in his subconscious, Neil realized he must know it, but he couldn't remember the name.
"What the…?" Topher muttered, groggy from being awoken.
"The cranky guy and the ghosts that haunt him!" Neil repeated.
"Why are you asking me about Scrooge right now," Topher groaned, clearly wishing he were still asleep.
“Scrooge! That's it. A Christmas Carol.”
Topher rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Yeah, our class performed it in middle school for the Christmas play, remember? Charlie played the Ghost of Christmas Past, and you were pissed about being his understudy.”
Neil was transported back to the memory. He had practiced so hard for the role that he forced his dad to run lines with him after work while they ate dinner under the kitchen’s dim lighting. It was devastating to middle-school Neil when Charlie scored it effortlessly. Everything seemed to come easily to him back then, and I guess it was still true in a sense to this day. He looked across the aisle at Charlie, sandwiched between Bez and Wyatt, writing in his notebook (no doubt scribbling edits to his latest song proposition) and wearing the knitted sweater gifted to him by Sophia as an early Christmas gift.
A Christmas Carol was about living well and the opportunity to change, and multiple ghosts visited Ebenezer Scrooge in the tale, each serving a different purpose. The Ghost of Christmas Future basically represented the fear of death. Neil contemplated why the mysterious, cloaked Ghost of Christmas Future was appearing in his dream. The concept of death had been prevalent in his life as of late, demonstrated by his sleepless nights spent googling painter's lung and subsequently spiralling. The idea of losing his dad was always in the back of his mind, but that had nothing to do with Bender. Maybe the ghost was meant as a metaphor for not wasting precious time since you never know when life will end, and doing all the things you are scared to do.
Things between him and Bender had been stuck in an uncomfortable phase of avoidance ever since their car ride home from the Chapel Hill show at the end of summer. He knew there was something between them, though neither of them would say it. He hadn’t told any of the band, but there had been a moment in the car that night. They stopped for Cinnabon, as promised, and ate in the reclined seats of her car, sharing the warm pastry. They hadn’t been talking much. Their ears still rang from the show, and their heads were buzzing from the thrill of the night. Then Neil noticed a smudge of icing at the corner of her lips. He didn’t know what came over him, but he reached over, wiping it away with his thumb, and he lingered a fraction too long. He would never forget the quiet understanding yet nervous hesitation in her eyes. The rest of the drive home passed in silence, and he couldn’t shake his regret of that impulsive gesture.
Things had been painfully tense ever since that night, and they hadn’t spent any further time together alone.
When it came to girls, where Charlie was bold and romantic, Neil was awkward and unconfident. He literally started playing guitar for Phoebe Rhodes when she tried to kiss him. He was different on stage, more secure in himself, like an alter ego.
"I want to do so many things before I die," Neil whispered to Topher.
Topher frowned, puzzled at the change of topic from talking about their middle school play. "You aren't dying any time soon. And you will do many, many cool things. We are on our way to New York freaking City to play a festival right now."
Neil exhaled heavily. "I know, but what if I'm wasting time?" He looked down and mumbled, barely audible, "What if I'm Scrooge?"
Topher didn't even bother asking what the second part of that sentence meant. "Go to sleep, dude, you sound crazy."
He tried and failed to fall back asleep for the remainder of the flight until he heard the ding of the "Seatbelts On" signal being activated, and the crackle of the PA system coming to life.
"We are now beginning our descent into New York City, local time 10:15am."