To be completely honest, I never liked Christmas.

To be completely honest, I never liked him either. Seriously, Cynric Davidson was a pebble in my shoe. I didn’t miss him, I didn’t miss him at all. I’m actually glad we broke up. Couldn’t stand him….

Now everyone can tell that isn’t true.

The truth is, I love him more than anything before, and it still scares me. Even after four years. The thing is, I was utterly hopeless. He was my childhood friend, my neighbour, my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my last kiss….

…And my first heartbreak.

I still missed everything about him. His disheveled silver hair, that shone like the moon itself, his cloudy grey eyes that became azure sometimes….the way his mouth pulled up into an uneven smile, the way he held me, the way he kissed me…but I had done something wrong. I know it. There had to be a reason he liked her better than me. Maybe I wasn’t pretty enough…that was fairly possible. He was like a god and I was, to put it simply, plain. I remember where we had our last kiss. It was in the backyard outside my aunt’s villa. She had an outstanding garden; it was so fairy-tale like….

I was laughing hysterically by the time we got outside. He held me carefully, almost as if he was afraid to. “Cynric?” I said, turning my head to meet his azure eyes. They were blue again, something was wrong, I know it!

“Belle…” he said softly. It the first time he said my name and not Bells in ages.

Suddenly he was kissing me with such urgency. I didn’t care, it felt so…right.

Cheesy huh?

I love Christmas, I love Christmas, I love Cynric. My fingers raked through his hair, but he let me go suddenly, and pulled away. “Why’d you stop?”

But he didn’t answer me, he just walked away.

I didn’t see him for a week after that. I was so broken, and confused.

I woke up in the morning with a bad taste in my mouth. Again.

I willed myself to get up and head to the bathroom. I stared at my reflection. My hair was in disarray and my eyes were blood-shot. I was really a wreck without him. It was scary. I washed my face and brushed my teeth fully. Then I changed and went downstairs to continue my ‘living zombie’ routine. That is…

…until my mother told me there was someone at the door for me.

I turned to meet the visitor’s gaze. “Cynric!” I jumped on him. “I missed you!”

“…” he didn’t answer.

“Cynric? Is something wrong?”

He lifted his eyes to meet mine. Hesitation shone in them. “Can we talk a walk?”

“Of course, let me grab my coat.” I grabbed a grey trench coat and called into the house, “I’m going for a walk with Cynric, mum!” and then turned shyly to him walking out with him.

He didn’t talk the whole walk…

…did I do something to upset him?

“Cynric, I’m sick of this!” I shouted, maybe I was PMSing. “Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll try to help,” I could feel the tears sting my eyes, and he looked disconcerted at this, “I want to help! I don’t want to be useless.”

“I don’t think you can…help, that is.”

I took a step back and froze. What…? “What are you saying?”

“Belle, I think I want to go live with my father.”

“He lives in America…” I said slowly, “You’re leaving London? Why?”

“I think I made a lot of mistakes, I’m not trying to run away from them, but I really don’t want to face them either.”

Was I one of his problems? Did he not want to face me? Did he find someone else? Was I… “I see…” I said, the pain breaking my voice. Trying to cheer myself up I said, “how long?”

“I-I don’t think I’m coming back.” He said.

I found my voice after a while. “Can I come?”

“What—Belle,” he said, “Let’s be realistic here.”

“I get it…I’m the problem, aren’t I?”

He didn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t love you anymore.”

My whole world just fell apart. Life, love….none of it existed anymore. I felt the warm tears run down my cheeks, and they burned. I couldn’t breathe. Why? He turned around slightly to see why I was making muffled sobs, but I turned and ran.

I ran until I couldn’t see him anymore. But what hurt the most…

..he didn’t call after me.

My aunt, at the grand age of forty three, was finally getting married. She was holding an engagement party. I thought I could have some fun and everything, I mean, where was my Christmas spirit?

It ran away with whatever love he ever held for me.

Then, of course, he was there. OF COURSE! I can’t seem to catch a break. He matured. His hair was still falling in silver tendrils down to mid-neck, his eyes were steel-cold grey, his jaw was sharp and he was still broad-shouldered. But he didn’t get any taller. Still six foot one and a half, I reckon. Okay I knew his height, we were childhood friends. He didn’t come without a date. He came with her. The same her I mentioned earlier in this episode of myself wallowing in self-pity.

Becca Johnson.

She was a girl he met when he was thirteen. He met her when he travelled to America in the summer. His parents were divorced. He was born to an American father and an English mother, hence the Celtic name. Anyway, he was always friendly with her, but I wasn’t paranoid. I thought nothing of it. She had luxurious blonde locks that travelled all the way down to her waist and cerulean blue eyes, her mouth was full-lipped and was always pulled up into a pout, and she had long lashes, handy for her ‘come hither’ looks. I looked away quickly and turned my full attention to my cousin, Jeremy, who seemed agitated at the fact his mother was finally getting married. “She hasn’t been happy for ages, it’s just, I don’t want to see her hurt, you know what I mean, Belle?”

Of course I did. I knew that oh-so-well. “Hey,” my other cousin, Henrietta, “Isn’t that Cynric? Oi, Cynric, come over here!” she called.

Oh, no! My date reassuringly patted my shoulder. Well, he wasn’t my date, more like my escort. He was my co-worker. I had a little crush on him for a brief period of time; the kind of crush a shy school-girl would have on the school’s top gun. He had neat, long blonde hair, and dazzling gold-green eyes. He was gorgeous, almost as gorgeous as Cynric. The problem, you may ask? He was into men, which was, of course, just my luck. “Is he the ex?” he whispered. I nodded.

“Hallo, Henrietta,” his mouth was pulled up into a complete smile. I missed his crooked, uneven smile. “Jeremy,” he acknowledged my other cousin. Becca was clinging to his arm lightly, as if she owned him. “You’ve met Becca, haven’t you?”

Jeremy gave me an uncertain look. Cynric followed his gaze and froze when he saw me, however, he quickly recovered. “I don’t think I have met her, Becca that is,” Jeremy stammered.

“Ah.”

“Hello, I’m Avery,” my escort said. “Pleasure,” he added.

“Cynric,” he said in reply.

Avery looked at me and smiled, then turned back to Cynric. “Have you met Belle?”

I expected him to say, “Yes, we grew up together.”

But instead…he said, “No.”

My heart broke all over again. I smiled tenderly at Avery when he was about to protest, and he stopped. “I’m Belle Pierce, pleasure to meet you, and you,” I said to Becca as well. “Avery, dear, care for a walk?”

He saw through my act. He knew that the minute I got out of sight, I would start crying. “Can we not? I don’t feel like it.”

“I guess,” I sighed.

“I’ll take her,” Cynric suddenly said. I nodded to Avery to tell him it was okay.

When we were outside, it took all my self-restraint not to cry. I was trembling though, can’t help that. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“…no.” I said quietly.

“Alright,” he turned around and looked me in the eye.

“Cynric?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…when I said I didn’t know you…”

“I thought…maybe you forgot me.”

He waved it off. “Don’t think such things.”

“Are you and Becca…?”

“No.” he said, quickly. “And Avery…?”

“He’s gay.”

He looked somewhere between confused and amused. “So…if…he…wasn’t…would you…” he trailed off, “Would you date him?”

I shrugged. “Probably not,” I said.

His mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. He shoved his hands into his coat’s pockets as he stared out into the sky. “Belle…do you hate me for what I did?”

I didn’t know. Did I hate him? That was answered easily. “I don’t hate you,” I said, “But I still don’t understand why you did it.”

“Well….I was scared….” He said.

“Of what?” I demanded.

He met my eyes. They were that strange azure again. “How much I loved you.”

Love…he loves me.

Correction: He lovedyou.

“I was scared as well, I didn’t flee the country!” I screamed.

He suddenly hugged me. I felt his lips on my hair. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Then I realised something else. We were in my aunt’s magical garden.

And one last thing, he was kissing me.

Cheesy…huh?

To be perfectly honest, I was completely delusional, and now absolutely love Christmas again.

Signed: Belle Evelyn Pierce Davidson

AIN

So, I felt like writing a completely random Christmas fluff. Sue me for it?

Cynric is a nice name; don’t pester me about the abnormality.

Ajanae