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Purple had forgotten much of the holiday spirit.
His early years, of his mom knitting him cute sweaters and his dad setting up the house was so far. Back in those days, when he used to ran around the house, helping with wrapping the presents and baking the buche de noel.
He'd always have a flair for the arts. Even as a young child he could already tie rather complex knots for presents, and his cake would come out nicely decorated.
The best part though, was when his father took them out for a fried chicken spree. Oh how he loved the alluring smell of spices and the softness hidden beneath the crispy shell of the meal. He'd always make sure he licked every crumb clean.
Then all those jolly atmosphere vanished post-Newgrounds.
The day after the incident, the concept of "holiday" was wiped from the dictionary of Purple's family. Instead of ornaments decorating Christmas trees, new bruises and scrapes decorated his pale skin as he still had to fight, albeit with a tiny silver lining of less time dedicated to so-called "training".
Less of the shouting, the grueling demands as his father ruthlessly threw punches and kicks at him.
His mother of course had to deal with the aftermath, weeping while she tended for her son after her husband had stormed out to take a drag in the cold winter air.
The next years after Navy's abandonment weren't any better, either. Purple, though freed from physical suffering, found himself in mental turmoil as his mother's health deteriorated rapidly.
The last Christmas he got to spend with Orchid while she was alive, she had given him a violin.
"I know you always loved it, my dear."
It was a secondhand violin, with some minor scratches here and there, yet it was a beautiful one. He remembered shakily playing it. "Jingle Bells", it was. Quite a bit off, but he remembered how his mother's gaunt face lit up at the song, and she had sung it in the hospital ward.
That was the last light of her life.
She passed a few weeks later, and Purple watched, numb as the staff covered her with a white cloth before slowly wheeling her away from his life.
Years after Orchid's death was a blur in his memory. Dragging on, days collapsing into months and then years, stretching out for seemingly forever. He couldn't recall how many times he stared outside, gazing at the snow, his violin resting neatly to the side.
Many times the violin was picked up, as he'd perform a solo, before always cutting it off, never playing a song until the end.
He was sure his life would continue like that, wallowing in depression until one day the life falls from him.
Like a certain orchid petal.
"Purple! Dinner's ready!"
The deep call of King jolted Purple out of his thoughts. He ran downstairs to see his surrogate father standing next to a literal feast.
"WHAT THE- Dad, this is a lot! You made these by yourself?!"
The old man responded with a proud thumbs-up.
Purple instantly felt a bit guilty. All this time while he was busy showering himself with self-pitying, his dad had dealt with all of the dishes himself?
Seemingly knowing Purple's intensifying sense of self-blame, King gestured in the kitchen. His adopted son could now hear LOTS of noises. Familiar ones.
Then, Blue poked his head out, grinning and flashing him a peace sign. After him, Yellow's wild curls, Red's cat ears, Second's bright green eyes, and most importantly, Green's messy ponytail all poked out in unison.
Purple was flabbergasted, to say the least.
"Guys!"
The five sticks immediately smothered him with a group hug, and he happily buried himself in their arms while his dad stood to the side, sipping on some hot chocolate.
"Alright, boys, off to the dinner table."
Almost immediately, the young dudes fought to get to the table first, eventually settling down for the feast. Green ended up next to Purple, "purely by accident", or so he said. In fact, he and Red nearly brawled before Blue stepped in and distracted the latter by pointing at a non-existent creature, allowing Green to slip in next to his boyfriend.
"Yeah, yeah, thanks to Blue that you get to sit next to your darling, Green. Thank him later for that." Red huffed, his cat ears pressed flat atop his head, glaring at both Green and Blue, the latter of which pretended not to notice as he had gone off about the history of pudding to an equally invested Yellow.
"Don't you say that, Red. I have every right to sit in the obvious best seat of the room."
"Your seat ain't that good either, it's just good because Purple's sitting next to you."
King cleared his throat, and the two immediately shut up, though not without Green's victorious grin and Red sticking out his tongue in return before busying himself with wolfing down the food, nearly bumping into Second's glass of juice had it not been for the hollowhead's lightning quick reflexes to get the glass out of the way.
After the feast, the gang resorted to usual holiday business.
Singing Christmas tunes incredibly off-key, then compensated to King's ears with Purple's breathtaking violin solo.
Then snowball fighting happened (Yellow floored all of them by inventing a perpetual snowball throwing mechanism. It's always him and his inventions. Always has been.)
As night falls, the previously energetic boys sprawled everywhere on the floor, blankets just strewn across the room, while King excused himself to his bedroom.
Only two remained at the window, snow gazing. Two musicians, a guitarist and a violinist.
Green pulled the blanket tighter around his petite boyfriend. His eyes fixated on how genuinely mesmerizing Purple looked under the lights. The way light hit just right so Purple's eyes practically glowed.
"You know, I've never thought I could ever scored someone like you as my love."
The idle comment caught Purple's attention immediately.
"Huh, I thought it'd be the other way around."
His fingers left Green's, reaching up to twirl a stray strand.
"I'm flawed. I have a bad past as well. It didn't cross my mind that one day someone like me would again feel the same as others. Being able to celebrate, with people close to me."
Green only sighed, before brushing Purple's hair lightly.
"Don't say that... I don't care you had a less than ideal past. You proved yourself that you can still turn to the light in the end. We all agreed it was a thing of the past now."
"..."
"And you worth everything to me."