Chapter Text
Mid-December, 2005
Maysilee adjusts her holiday sweater as she settles onto the worn couch in Blair's basement. Her drink sloshes over the side of her cup and she curses. The basement is packed wall-to-wall with people she barely tolerates— loud, sweaty, and already halfway through the cheap punch Blair's older brother "helped" make. She spots Haymitch sitting on a wooden chair with Lenore Dove on his lap, the two of them kissing.
The place is decorated like someone raided the clearance bin from Kmart. Strings of multicolored Christmas lights sag from the walls, pinned up by rusted nails, the cords wrapped around them. A plastic snowman with a flickering bulb leans crookedly in the corner. The old stereo system, the one Blair's been trying to sell for months, blasts a burned CD labeled Holiday Mix 2005 in Sharpie. Every few songs, the disc skips. Right now, Pon de Replay by Rihanna blares around them. Maysilee frowns, how the hell is that a holiday song? She glances around, but no one else seems bothered at all about it.
Someone drops beside her, elbow digging into her rib. Maysilee glares at the guy.
"Excuse me, asshole," she says. "I'm sitting right here."
"Sorry," he replies, ignoring her in favor of the girl who sat down with him.
She pushes herself up, "accidentally" spilling a splash of her drink on his jeans before heading to the only part of the basement that isn't housing sweaty partygoers— the corner where her favorite person loiters.
Wyatt stands there, half-hidden by Blair's fake ficus, holding a cup in his hand and his other shoved into the pocket of his jeans. His holiday sweater is plain navy and his hair keeps falling into his eyes in a way that makes her want to fix it. He's angled just enough away from the speakers that the music isn't blasting directly at him like he picked the spot for the privacy and the decreased noise.
"Hey," she greets.
"Hi," he says, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips.
"Not very festive of you," she says, stepping into the corner with him and gesturing to his sweater.
Wyatt glances down and frowns. He pauses before he speaks. "Ma made it. It's not as scratchy." he murmurs. "And Kennedy took the reindeer one to work with him for the ugly sweater contest." Confusion flashes across his face. "Is it that bad?"
"I'm just teasing you, Wyatt," she assures, patting his arm. "I think you look very nice."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
The stereo is now blasting All I Want for Christmas is You for the fifth time this evening. Someone wobbles past, ornaments balancing on their head and another cup of punch in hand. Wyatt's presence is like a balm to her frayed nerves.
"You hiding?" She questions, taking a sip of her drink. She wrinkles her nose at the concoction and covers a cough.
Wyatt shrugs, rolling his favorite coin between his knuckles. "Just observing."
"Observing what? Blair's tragic attempt at a winter wonderland?"
"Something like that," he says, huffing a laugh.
She leans her shoulder against the wall next to him. Her eyes trace his face— the bridge of his nose, his jawline, the dimple imprinted in the corner of his mouth. Something about being near Wyatt brings her a sense of comfort not even her sister and best friend can provide. Wyatt lightly nudges her cup with his own.
"You good?" He asks, eyes focused more on her cup than her face.
"Better now," she says with a grin.
His ears turn pink. He looks down at the contents of his drink like there's something fascinating floating around in it. Maysilee groans internally, quickly thinking about how she can make it less awkward between them. A loud crash comes from their left and they both look and see Blair lying on his back, staring at the ceiling dazed with roller skates on.
Maysilee turns back to Wyatt, clearing her throat. "So, any fun plans for Christmas?"
"Not really. I'll be helping Ma cook and then I gotta go down to the Hob."
"The Hob? On Christmas?" Maysilee frowns. "Any way you could stop by so I can give you a gift?"
"Mays, you didn't—"
"I wanted to. Wyatt, you've been helping me pass pre-Calc. Also friends give each other gifts."
He looks down at his shoes. "It's just," he starts before sighing. "I didn't get you anything."
"That's fine," she says quickly. "I mean it, Wyatt. My gift is more of a thank you. So, will you? You know, stop by before going to the Hob?" She holds her breath, nerves tangling into a knot in her stomach.
"Yeah," he finally says. "I'll stop by."
"Great." Maysilee feels like she can finally breathe. "How long do you think it'll be before Blair starts forcing everyone into caroling?"
"I'd say five minutes," Wyatt answers. "Maybe ten if we're lucky."
She laughs, and he smiles wider, and for a moment, the noise of the party around them fades into the background. It's just them, tucked away into their little corner like always. Maysilee's heart thuds in her chest, the sudden overwhelming urge to kiss Wyatt flooding over her.
Then someone near the basement stairs shouts loud enough to cut through Mariah Carey. "Mistletoe!"
Maysilee startles, turning toward the commotion. A group has gathered beneath the low ceiling, pointing upwards. She squints. Sure enough, Blair must've taped sad little plastic sprigs of mistletoe all over the ceiling and above the doorways in a fit of festive cheer. People are already pecking each other, or, in the case of real couples, making out.
"Oh, great," she mutters.
Merrilee's voice cuts through the noise. "Maysilee and Wyatt, you two have to kiss!"
Maysilee glares at her twin who grins back and gives her a wink. Wyatt glances up above them, blinking for a moment before looking at Maysilee. She sees the uncertainty hazing his eyes.
"You don't have to," he murmurs.
She thinks it's sweet that he thinks that she doesn't want to. Someone (Haymitch, she just knows it) starts chanting: "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Others join in and soon enough, everyone in the room is chanting along.
Maysilee groans while Wyatt looks like he wants to melt into the floor.
"Come on," she says, elbowing him gently. "Holiday law."
He gives her a helpless look, cheeks flushing. "Mays…"
"It's just a kiss," she says lightly, stepping closer, her heart thudding. "We'll survive." I hope this doesn't ruin everything.
Wyatt swallows, nods once, and the crowd cheers louder. She can hear Haymitch and Merrilee's cheers over everyone else. Maysilee steps even closer to Wyatt, his eyes are darting everywhere, panic filling them. She knows he hates all of the attention on him.
"Hey," she murmurs, "look at me. It's fine."
She leans in, hooking her free fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him as close as possible. He tenses for a heartbeat, then relaxes just a bit. She closes the remaining distance.
Her lips brush his, a hesitant dry kiss. His lips are soft, softer than she would've guessed. She deepens the pressure slightly, tilting her head enough to fit their mouths together better. It's not passionate, but it's also not one of those sloppy, drunken kisses some of the others are doing.
And then, he responds. It's the slightest movement, barely perceptible. His lips soften against hers, and for a fleeting second, she thinks he might be kissing her back. It's over as quickly as it began. Wyatt pulls back as Maysilee's heart hammers frantically in her chest.
The basement erupts into a mix of cheers, whoops, and catcalls. Haymitch's obnoxious whistle is the loudest. Maysilee ignores them all, her gaze locked on Wyatt. His cheeks are flushed, but his eyes are no longer panicked. A dazed look has settled onto his face. He blinks a few times like he's processing, his fingers tightening around his cup in a white-knuckled grip
She drops her hand from his belt loop, missing the physical contact immediately. She clears her throat, the sound swallowed by the noise. Wyatt blinks.
"See?" She says, with a light teasing tone, but it comes out a bit more breathless than she intends. "We survived."
Wyatt just stares at her. He opens his mouth, then closes it before giving her a small, jerky nod. "Yeah. We did."
The crowd is already losing interest, turning back to their drinks and Blair's terrible playlist. Maysilee forces herself to look away from Wyatt, pretending to adjust her sweater even though her hands are shaking.
Wyatt clears his throat. "Um, do you wanna go upstairs? It's loud down here." He doesn't look at her when he says it.
She nods, grateful for the excuse. They weave through the crowd, dodging Blair— who's now trying to convince people to join a "holiday limbo competition"— and climb the creaky wooden stairs into the much quieter living room.
The air is cooler up here. Maysilee sinks onto the arm of the couch while Wyatt stands awkwardly beside her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"You okay?" She asks softly.
He nods, but his cheeks are still pink as are the tips of his ears. "Yeah. Just wasn't expecting that."
"Me neither," she lies.
They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the muffled chaos below. Wyatt's fingers tap nervously against his cup. Maysilee watches him, wondering if he's thinking about the kiss too.
He glances at her, his dark eyes meeting her blue ones. He looks away immediately, the tips of his ears burning a brighter pink. She bites her bottom lip until the skin feels raw.
"So Christmas. You're still stopping by?"
Wyatt nods quickly. "Yeah. I said I would."
"Good." She tries to sound casual. "I'll have your gift ready."
He gives her a small smile, soft and shy. It makes her stomach flip. "Okay."
The sound of pounding feet clamber up the stairs before Blair bursts out, yelling about needing more cups, followed by Burdock and Haymitch and Lenore Dove, and the moment shatters. Wyatt steps back, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I should probably get going," he says, glancing at the time.
Maysilee follows his gaze and disappointment builds in her chest when she sees it's nearly ten.
"Going home so early?" She asks.
"Nah," he replies with a shake of his head. "Pa said I could come only if I help out at the Hob."
"Oh." She blinks. "Well, be safe, Wyatt."
He nods. "You and Merrilee have a ride home?"
"Yeah," she says. "Don't worry."
"Okay, well, I'll see you soon," he says.
"Yeah," she echoes. "Soon."
He hesitates, like he wants to say something, but ultimately he doesn't. He just gives her one last look, warm and confused, and disappears out the front door.
Maysilee stays where she is, touching her lips, replaying the kiss in her mind before Merrilee and Asterid appear in front of her. A tiny spark flickers in her chest. She tells herself it was nothing, but her pulse doesn't agree.
"Well, that was something," Merrilee teases, a delighted grin on her face.
"Shut up," Maysilee says with a sigh. "Do you think I ruined it?"
"Of course not," promises Asterid. "It was just a kiss, Mays."
"Yeah, you're right." She stands, pretending to pick lint off her sweater.
Asterid and Merrilee share a look before dragging her back downstairs to party again. Maysilee shoots one last look over her shoulder at the front door.
She triple-checks herself in the mirror in her bedroom. As she smooths out the cream pleated skirt, music rings out from Merrilee's room. Carol of the Bells filters through her open door and she can hear Merrilee singing along to it as she gets ready for Christmas lunch. Maysilee shakes her head.
She's not sure what time Wyatt will be stopping by, but she assumes it'll probably be after three since he's helping his mom. Merrilee appears in the doorway, wearing an emerald green sweater with little elves and candy canes on it and a ruby red skirt with white tights underneath.
Merrilee does a quick spin. "How do I look?"
"Festive," Maysilee says.
"Perfect, that's exactly what I was going for." Merrilee eyes her sister. "You look nice too. Is a certain someone stopping by?"
"Maybe." Maysilee turns back to the mirror, avoiding Merrilee's gaze. "He said he'd stop by before heading to the Hob."
"His father's making him work Christmas?" Merrilee frowns. "That's just cruel. Maybe his dad's Ebeneezer Scrooge."
Maysilee laughs. "I doubt it. You know Wyatt— he'll do anything to please his parents. And I think it's sweet that he still wants to help out."
"You're right," Merrilee says, entering the room and flopping onto Maysilee's bed. "He's much better than you."
"Oh, shut up," Maysilee retorts, grabbing a throw pillow and hurling it at Merrilee. "I help out at the Sweet Shop all the time."
"Sure." Merrilee grins. "So, what'd you get for him?"
"I didn't get him anything. I made him something." Maysilee heads to her jewelry workstation and grabs a pouch before joining her sister on her bed. "I made him a necklace. You know how he's always playing with that coin, it helps him think. I thought it'd be easier if he put it in the necklace that way he can pop it in and out without losing it."
Merrilee remains quiet, her eyes on the cord.
"Well," Maysilee says, her stomach twisting, "what do you think?"
"I think…" Merrilee starts, "someone has a crush on Wyatt!"
Merrilee launches herself off the bed and speeds out of the room with a laugh. Maysilee blinks before putting the necklace back in the pouch and giving chase.
"Papa!" Merrilee shouts. "She's gonna kill me!"
"I do not!" Maysilee yells. "Papa, Merrilee's teasing me."
Mr. Donner glances at his daughters as Maysilee chases Merrilee around the dining room table. Merrilee grips the tops of the chairs with a grin. Maysilee's eyes narrow.
"Papa," Merrilee starts.
"Don't you even—" Maysilee interrupts.
"Maysilee likes someone!" Merrilee finishes, a satisfied grin on her face.
"Merrilee has a boyfriend!" Maysilee accuses, pointing a finger.
"Maysilee!" Merrilee shrieks. "I can't believe—"
"Girls," Mr. Donner interrupts. "Sit."
The two glare at each other before taking seats opposite of each other. Maysilee's face burns in embarrassment.
"Now, it's Christmas," Mr. Donner says. "A holiday of love and spending quality time with each other. So, let's stop fighting." He leans forward and the girls do the same. "I don't care who you like or date, but keep it mum around your mother, understand?"
"Yes, Papa," they chorus together.
"Good." He heads back to the kitchen.
"Truce?" Merrilee asks, holding out her hand.
"Truce," Maysilee agrees, shaking it. "But you better keep your mouth shut around Wyatt."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Merrilee says, heading out the doorway with Maysilee following.
Maysilee rolls her eyes. "I highly doubt that."
Maysilee checks her hair one last time before opening the door. Wyatt stands there, cheeks tinged with pink and his paperboy cap dusted with snow. His eyes are bright and warm. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his scrip coin moving between his gloved fingers.
"Hi," she greets, fingers clutching the pouch tightly.
"Hi," he echoes. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas." Maysilee holds out the pouch.
His fingers brush against hers as he accepts it and Maysilee feels a jolt shoot through her body. She holds her breath as he unties the ribbon and pulls out the necklace. He glances at her.
"It's a necklace," she says quickly. "You always play with your coin so I thought the necklace would make it easier to keep it on you. It's ridiculous, I'm sorry."
"No," he says quietly. "I like it. Can you show me how to put the coin in?"
"Yeah, no, yeah, of course," she says. Maysilee steps closer and shows him how to slacken the cord to put the coin in the loop and then tighten the cord so it wouldn't fall out.
"Thanks, Mays," he says. "It's very thoughtful."
She nods. He shifts from one foot to the other before pulling something out of his pocket. Wyatt holds it out to her, eyes on the decorations scattered across the yard.
"I, uh, didn't know what to get you," he says.
She takes it from him. It's a cheap thin jewel case, with the cloudy green plastic. A CD sits inside, the surface silver and scratched, the label written in his messy handwriting: Maysilee's Mix.
Her heart stutters.
"It's just songs," he adds quickly. "Stuff you might like. Or not. I don't know."
She nods, opening the case. The tracklist is scribbled on a folded piece of notebook paper. Some songs she recognizes, some she doesn't, and one she knows he loves. One track jumps out at her— a song he hummed under his breath once during tutoring. She looks up, a small smile slipping onto her face when she sees his ears are pink. His gaze flicks up to her face, searching, like he's waiting for her verdict.
"Thanks, Wyatt," she says softly.
He shrugs, but his shoulders relax. "Yeah. Sure."
Behind him, the car horn blares. Maysilee and him both jump and Maysilee peers around him and sees Kennedy and Beau sitting in the car, watching them with wide grins.
"I, uh, I should get going," he says. "Have a good night, Maysilee."
"You too, Wyatt," she says. "Stay safe."
He nods before heading back to the car. When he opens the door, she can hear Kennedy teasing him before the door shuts behind him and the car peels off.
Maysilee reenters her house, turning the CD case over in her hand. Merrilee perks up when Maysilee enters the living room. Their parents are in the kitchen, cleaning up.
"Did he like the gift?" Merrilee whispers.
Maysilee nods. "He did. He gave me this." She shows Merrilee the CD.
"Oh, Maysilee, that's so romantic." Merrilee swoons.
"It's just a gift from a friend," Maysilee mutters. "He doesn't mean anything romantic like that. He just sees me as a friend." The words leave a sour feeling in her mouth.
"Yeah, okay, whatever you say," Merrilee says with a sigh. "Maybe I should hint for Griffin to do something like that for me…" She trails off, lost in her daydream.
Maysilee ignores her and decides to head upstairs. She shuts her bedroom door and grabs her Sony Walkman. Maysilee pulls on the headphones and gently inserts the disc. She lies on her bed, feet crossed at the ankle, staring at her ceiling as the familiar tune of Mr. Brightside by the Killers starts to play.