Snowflakes and Sweethearts

❅ melodies when your heart beats

When Max Mayfield's crystal blue eyes flutter open, she sees a mostly dark room dimly lit by the colorful glinting Christmas lights strung along the balsam tree nestled in the corner of her living room. There's a faint sound of music pouring from the television's speakers, the same instrumental chorus of 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' playing on repeat. When she turns her head, which is currently lying on top of one of the velvet holiday pillows that her mother has decorated the sofa with, she sees the main menu for 'A Christmas Story' on the screen. She can barely remember the last scene of the film she'd seen before drifting off to sleep; but since no one has bothered to change the TV and she can make out the sounds of soft snoring, she figures that she isn't the only one that sunk into a slumber.

On the floor, right next to the coffee table, Max can see Dustin sprawled out in his pajamas and his curls a tangled mess. If she remembers correctly, watching this movie was his idea and yet he couldn't be bothered to stay awake and watch it. She's about to turn her attention elsewhere when Dustin lets out the most loud obnoxious snore. If she wasn't already awake, she's sure it would've woken her up.

On a singular recliner, Will is bundled up in a fluffy blanket, looking as peaceful as ever. His sketchbook is stationed in his lap, a few colored pencils are scattered along the bottom of the chair, likely from him moving as he slept. He'd spent most of the time at Max's house sketching, she was curious as to what he was bringing to life on those pages of his.

On the sofa next to Will, Mike is sat on the end of the couch, his mouth opened slightly with a bit of drool pooling out. El's feet were in his lap as she took up most of the space and lay at the other end. Sometimes, their adorable behavior made Max ill. She rolled her eyes with a small smile, placing her hand on her stomach for emphasis.

However, when she moved to place her hand on her stomach, she felt something else instead.

Her brows furrowed as she finally gazed down at her body and observed someone attached to her positioned figure. "Lucas?" She blinked in surprise.

Lucas was fast asleep, he hadn't answered her, though he did move slightly at the mention of his name. She was surprised he was there, not that cuddling had been foreign to the two of them, but it was still an activity Max was unaccustomed to. Lucas was always all for it, but the physical and narrowly emotional vulnerability of it always made her slightly queasy. Maybe that's what was making her feel sick. Lucas would usually have to ask to snuggle up against Max in this manner; this time he simply did it without thinking twice. She was almost tempted to shove Lucas off of her and off of the couch they were settled on.

Yet, the ardent hum in her chest made her hesitant to do so.

The way Lucas latched onto her, regardless of the form, always made her melt. She was a puddle seeping into the couch cushions and Lucas didn't know it. She imagined that he never really knew the full effect of what he did to her. And currently, he was doing a number on her.

His arms were laced gently around her waist, the embrace not too tight and not too loose around her, it made her feel safe and secure from the world around her. His head rests on her stomach as if her belly were anywhere near as comfortable as a plush pillow. The rest of his body anchored on top of her, he sunk onto her, feeling like a weighted blanket. She had never felt this warm, though the warmth had more to do with an internal feeling rather than a temperature.

She sat up as best as she could with Lucas essentially molded onto her. With everyone fast asleep, including Lucas, Max thought this would be the perfect moment to place a delicate kiss on the top of his head, though since she didn't have the reach, she decided on slowly running her hand through his hair. She did this repeatedly, her eyes trained on his face and his serene expression.

After a few minutes, she lies back down, her eyes closing as she searches for sleep once again.

As she focuses on finding her way back to sleep. She ignores all the snoring, the repetitive Christmas chorus—which was starting to get annoying—and ignores the urge to wake Lucas up and plant a kiss or two on his forehead. She's so focused on disengaging with her setting that she almost misses the feeling of Lucas' heartbeat drumming against her.

The beat of his heart and his breathing as he sleeps are calming. It is a rhythmic pattern of its own, similar to a song. A melody only Max can hear, a melody that only plays for Max and Max will always listen to it as long as Lucas allows it.

And Lucas will always allow it.