'Tis the Damn Season

December 31st

Harry didn't want to go. Last night felt like as scathing rejection and he didn't know how to deal with it. How was he supposed even be around you after he tells you that he has feelings for you, that he thinks he always had, that you've always been someone to him and you simply asked to go home.

Unfortunately, he had to go. His mum was so excited to revive an old tradition, one that Harry never particularly minded, but one that was always slightly awkward since the two of you spent the whole night pretending to barely know one another—one that Harry was sure was completely futile since Gemma confirmed the night before that they had always known. He also didn't want to spend the night alone or ruin it for anyone else.

Harry let his mum drive, knowing that he was planning on drinking enough to make the night bearable and spent the extremely short drive to yours in the backseat (Gemma still wouldn't let him sit in the front) with a charcuterie board on his lap.

"Oh, I'm so excited!" His mum said. "Just like old times, yeah?"

"Mhmm," Harry mumbled before opening the door and climbing out.

The three of them walked up your driveway with an offering in hand; his mum held onto a plate of left over mince pies, Gemma had a bottle of wine dangling from each hand and Harry had the board that his mum had taken almost an hour to prepare.

Your mum opened the door with a huge smile on her face and quickly welcomed them inside. The first thing Harry did was look for you, but you were no where to be found. Isla had bounded over in a flowy, long sleeved dress and grabbed the board from Harry's hands.

"She's upstairs." She whispered.

Harry nodded before pulling her into a hug. He wasn't going to look for you. If you wanted to talk to him then it was on you to make the first move. He had done enough. He had reached out every year, had tried to show you that he wanted you and you rejected him every time. He wasn't going to do it anymore.

"Hi Maggie", he said as he pulled your mom into a hug.

"Harry, it's lovely to see you. I love your jumper." She smiled and pointed to the little lamb when they pulled away.

"Where's (Y/N)?" His mum asked as they all walked towards the kitchen.

"She's still getting ready. Said she didn't sleep much last night so she took a nap after lunch, but she should be down in a bit."

Harry ignored his mum's sly smile as they gathered around the island. Apparently, Gemma had shared more with their mum than she should've. Just because Harry knew that they knew, didn't mean that had to stop ignoring the whole situation. It would've been better for them to ignore it then, since there was a very large chance that whatever had been happening or could've happened was over.

As your mum and Isla grabbed wine glasses and filled them, his mum uncovered the board and Gemma started cutting the extra loaf of bread your mum had abandoned in favor of the wine.

***

You were sat on your bed, half dressed, with your nail between your teeth. Nothing seemed right. You wanted to look good and your anxiety and frustration was making you feel uncomfortable in every piece of clothing you owned.

You sighed in annoyance before picking up the blue, straight leg jeans you had thrown on the floor only a few minutes before and pulled them on. You slipped a white t-shirt over the light blue, lacy bra you were wearing and tugged the black sweater from its spot on the shelf. You had had it for years; it had rather large daisies scattered all over it and had a very high neck which you liked. You tucked the front of it into your jeans and rolled the sleeves up until they were an inch or two above your wrists.