'Tis the Damn Season

December 23rd

Harry pulled on his boots next to the front door as Gemma sat on the sofa scrolling through her phone.

"You're not coming?" He asked.

"I have that secret Santa thing first, remember? Isla's on her way to get me now."

Harry nodded at the mention of her best friend before standing up and slipping his arms through his slouchy, grey coat. "Right, well, I'm leaving. See you in a bit, then." Harry said as he walked to the door.

"Bye." Gemma said, only half paying attention as Harry grabbed the keys off the small hook in the entry way.

It was Christmas Eve eve, and he was on his way to the local pub. Fresh snow covered the ground of his hometown and clung to the lampposts and mailboxes of each house on the street. The driveway was haphazardly shoveled, causing Harry to step carefully around small clusters of snow and over patches of ice.

Once he shut the door, he blew warmth on his hands as he rubbed them together, cursing himself for not bringing gloves. He turned on the ignition and cranked the heat before putting his seatbelt on and tapping on the holiday music channel. As he backed out of the driveway, he sang along to White Christmas and tried to ignore the weird nervous feeling in his stomach.

Every year on the 23rd, everyone from his school days met at the pub in the form of a makeshift Christmas party. This was because everyone was back in town, everyone was feeling nostalgic, and everyone loved to pretend that they got along with everyone else. It was that weird holiday phenomenon...the one that didn't solely exist in Christmas movies or in books as catalysts for romances. It was real—and Harry almost hated it.

As much has he loved seeing everyone, and hearing about what they were up to, he always found it a bit odd that people who would never get along or be friends at any other point in the year would be sitting at the bar together, smiles on their faces and throwing back a pint. He also didn't like that he had to pretend to give a shit about the people he knew would be talking about him the minute he went back to London, or LA, or wherever it was he had to go. He still went every year because he did enjoy seeing his old mates and the classmates he did like. The pub was also extremely festive this time of year.

Out of all of his school friends, he was looking forward to seeing Alfie the most, who he had essentially grown up with. They were attached at the hip all through primary school and most of secondary school, up until Harry left for the X Factor. Honestly, he was really the only person that Harry was excited to see. He didn't hate anyone, nor did he really dislike anyone, but these nights often came with a lot of questions about his life and when he was home he wanted to focus on being home and relaxing, not answering a million questions even though he knew that whoever was asking meant well.

Harry was kind of looking forward to seeing you though. He knew you would be there because you were every year. Every Christmas Eve eve, he would see you for the first time at the pub and you always looked better than you did the year before. That being said, you never really seemed to change. Your hair was always the same length, your style only slightly elevated with each passing year, you wore your make up the same (a simple brown wash of color on your eye and a bold lip), all gold jewelry all the time, and the same slightly infuriating demeanor. You had had the same job for years, working at his mum's favorite restaurant in the center of town, while you freelanced as a copyeditor—sometimes as a copywriter, but rarely because you hated it even though it paid more. You still lived with your mom and sister, in the same room that hadn't been redecorated since you were seventeen. He knew that before he went back to London, he would surely see you in the black sweater with big white daisies on it...a sweater you've had for a little over five years and pretty much lived in. Harry found comfort in the fact that you never really changed, but he always found that you looked better than you had the year before.