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Hilda Berg had never been one for parties. Crowded rooms, loud music, too many eyes—none of it appealed to her. Still, when everyone in the Inkwell Isles had been invited, she hadn’t been able to justify staying away.
So she came—promptly claiming a spot against the wall.
From there, she watched the celebration unfold. Streamers and twinkling lights were draped from the ceiling. The room was filled with the sound of joyous laughter, lively music, and clinking glasses. Hilda cradled her own drink close to her chest, indulging in more than a few festive sips to steady her nerves. The wine warmed her from the inside out and soothed her nerves, and faster than expected, she could feel he the tension in her shoulders easing.
She was just beginning to relax when she noticed something overhead.
A sprig of mistletoe hung above her, tied neatly with a red ribbon.
Hilda stopped short. “…Stars above,” she muttered, lifting her glass and drinking again, “what a ridiculous tradition.”
“Hey, Hilda! You hidin’ back here on purpose?”
She startled slightly and turned to see Goopy bouncing toward her, grinning.
Unlike her, Goopy looked like he belonged at parties- he got along with just about everyone, and he was always in a cheerful mood.
“Oh! I—no,” she said quickly. “I was just… observing.”
Goopy chuckled. “Uh-huh. Sure looks cozy over here, though.”
He followed her gaze upward and immediately burst into laughter. “Oh! Well would ya look at that—mistletoe! Guess that means—”
Hilda’s face heated instantly. “Wh—what? No! That’s just a stupid superstition!” Her words tumbled out too fast as she gestured wildly, nearly sloshing her drink. Her voice wavered at the end, and she cursed herself for it.
Goopy noticed. He always did.
His teasing grin softened, melting into something gentler. “Hey, hey,” he said, holding up his hands. “No pressure, Hilda. We don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to. It’s kinda silly anyway, right?”
That kindness hit her square in the chest.
Hilda looked away, staring very hard at a nearby ribbon. Her heart was pounding now, loud enough she was sure he could hear it. Why did his understanding make this harder instead of easier?
She risked a glance back at him. He was still there, still smiling— not expectant. Not teasing. Just… waiting for her to say something.
Something twisted in her chest.
“…Well,” she said slowly, gathering her courage, “I suppose some traditions persist for a reason.” She inhaled deeply. “And the stars do favor the bold.”
Goopy blinked. “The stars do what now—?”
She stepped closer before she could second-guess herself.
The space between them suddenly felt very small. Her hands clenched at her sides as she leaned down, hesitating just for a heartbeat—long enough for him to realize what was happening.
Her lips brushed his in a soft, fleeting kiss.
It was gentle, almost tentative. Warm. She barely lingered, but in that brief moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade away entirely.
Goopy froze.
Then his face lit up, joy bursting across it like a firework. “Golly!” he laughed, voice bright and breathless. “That was—wow!”
Hilda straightened immediately, turning away to look at the floor. Her face burned, and she folded her arms tight. “Don’t read too much into it,” she said briskly. “It was merely… seasonal.”
Goopy just beamed, brighter than the lights overhead. “Seasonal or not,” he said happily, “that just made my whole year.”
Hilda huffed, but she couldn’t quite stop the smile tugging at her lips.