A Song For You//[Thonny]

Chapter Thirty

Colin's house was buzzing with warmth and life. The scent of pine and the faint tang of whiskey hung in the air, mingling with the hum of conversation and the crackle of the fireplace. Colin's Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its mismatched ornaments a testament to years of family traditions. 

Thom sat on the couch, nursing a glass of bourbon and giggling as Ed attempted—and failed—to throw a handful of popcorn into Colin's mouth from across the room.

"You're terrible at this," Colin said, popcorn bouncing off his cheek. "You're supposed to aim, you know."

Ed snorted, reaching for another handful. "Maybe your face is just too small."

Thom laughed, leaning back against the cushions and letting the warmth of the moment seep into him. It felt good to be here, surrounded by friends, the weight of the past year lifting—if only for a little while.

"You're both hopeless," Thom said, shaking his head as he raised his glass. "Here's to another year of mediocrity."

Colin rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face betrayed his amusement. "Says the guy who used to lose every pub trivia game we played."

"Hey, that was literally, like, eight years ago," Thom protested, pointing at him with his glass. "I've grown since then."

"Sure you have," Ed teased, throwing another kernel that hit Colin square in the forehead.

The three of them erupted into laughter, the sound echoing through the house like a balm against the cold night outside. It was Christmas Eve, and for the first time in a long time, Thom felt a flicker of peace.

"Phil's taking his sweet time," Colin muttered, glancing at the clock. It was nearly nine. "What kind of errand takes all night?"

"He probably got distracted," Thom said, sipping his drink. "You know how he is. The guy couldn't focus if his life depended on it."

"Or he's just avoiding us because he knows we'll make him do all the cleanup tomorrow," Ed added, earning a laugh from both Thom and Colin.

The conversation flowed easily as the hours stretched on. They talked about old memories—nights out at dingy bars, bad gigs that turned into great stories, and the way Jonny always managed to charm his way out of trouble. The mention of Jonny brought a bittersweet edge to the night, but none of them dwelled on it too long. Thom knew they all felt his absence, but they were careful not to let it cast a shadow over the evening.

As the night wore on, Colin brought out a bottle of his prized scotch, and the three of them settled deeper into the couch, the warmth of the alcohol loosening their laughter and blurring the edges of their worries.

"You know," Colin began, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "I think this is the first Christmas Eve in years I haven't had to deal with Jonny sneaking into the kitchen to steal food."

Ed chuckled. "He was awful at hiding it too. Like, maybe don't leave crumbs on the counter if you're trying to be subtle."

"Subtlety was never his strong suit," Thom said with a small smile, trying to ignore the pang of longing in his chest. "Remember that time he was fifteen and tried to sneak into that club with a bunch drink tickets? Got caught by the bouncer and somehow still managed to walk out with more tickets than he went in with."

The three of them laughed, the memory easing some of the tension that had lingered since Jonny entered rehab. It was good to remember the lighter moments, even if they carried a weight of nostalgia.

"I hope he's doing okay," Thom said softly, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

Colin nodded, his expression thoughtful. "He's stronger than he gives himself credit for. He'll get through this."