Festive One Shots

Last Christmas

The bell rings obnoxiously as you enter the small cafe you always frequent. While at first the noise had been headache-inducing - loud and unnecessary above the entrance to such a small place - now, you couldn't imagine walking inside without hearing it. And you welcome it, today especially - a comforting sound amongst your otherwise nerve-wracking day.

Your face is buried behind your thick woollen scarf, bobble hat almost falling off your head thanks to the wind and the way you'd rushed to get here. Dirt and dry leaves fall off your thick winter boots after walking through mud earlier to get around a large group of girls in a quicker time. Your cheeks are frost-bitten, hands sweating in your cheap gloves that you'd bought last-minute a couple of days ago after losing your favourite pair of mittens. You haven't had a chance to replace them yet. Your back feels sweaty, as does your neck, and overall you feel a little bit gross.

Last Christmas plays quietly through speakers from every corner of the tiny room, filling it with sad Christmas lyrics contrasting against a soundtrack of chirpy jingle bells. You tune it out, eager to forget it.

The place is full, as always, with every table occupied by holiday-makers and locals and tourists alike, hunching around steaming mugs and piping toasties, the smell of cinnamon and warm bread mingling in the air. It makes your mouth water. But the small room is not loud. Never loud. Hushed conversations creep but never meet your precious ears. Not once in this tiny eatery have you ever overheard someone else's private conversation. It's like they've managed to seamlessly soundproof every small table.

You wave to the barista, who you've come to know quite well, as you stomp your heavy boots into the welcome mat, avoiding the spread of dirt through your favourite place to visit. Shannon waves back, and points to the cramped table in the far corner where your coffee date is already waiting. You follow her direction, your beaming smile still hidden behind your scarf as your eyes scan over your often absent friend.

Harry is always smiling, just like now. Straight white bunny teeth gleaming through soft pink lips, green eyes shining like seaglass, clear as day from well across the room, and cheeks flush with the heat in the room - a stark contrast to the bitter December weather. He's dressed for the weather, too - wrapped in his own merchandise, which has always made you laugh. He is his own biggest supporter, but you've never said there's anything wrong with it. The strings on his grey hoodie have been pulled tightly and tied in a little bow, his light-wash straight-leg blue jeans are rolled up twice, brushing against his staple (and dirtied) white Vans. The shoe with pink laces is looking a little worse for wear. His curls hide under a bright pink beanie, but his dimples don't hide for anyone.

The second that you're across the room, you're in his arms. And he's warm, as always. There has never been a time when you've known this boy to not radiate heat. It's why you won't go near him in the summer or visit him in hot countries. He's your own personal sauna. Except he's not yours.

"Christ, I've missed you." Harry says almost the second he's got his arms around you, words spoken in jest around light giggles.

You groan outwardly, the noise muffled by your scarf. "I know, I've missed you, too."

He wiggles you both from side to side with his excitement, and leaves a swift chaste kiss to the exposed part of your forehead. "I got y'a coffee, and just how you like it."

You glance to the table, two hot mugs sat opposite one another on the top. One's piled with whipped cream and marshmallows, and the other is just black. "Oh, thank you. Sorry I'm late, by the way."

"It's no biggie, love." He brushes the matter as he sits back down, keeping his eyes on you as you peel your coat and your scarf off. "Although... you do look like you've seen a ghost or summat. You feelin' alright?"