Our Love (Advent Calendar 2015)

The 4th of December

From your Secret Santa, is what the card says on the package Rob received yesterday. Even if it wasn't written in Kristen's handwriting, Rob would still know it's her, especially after he opened the present.

When he saw what was in it, he smiled so widely that he almost couldn't see. And he kept the smile on his face for the rest of the day.

He's waited a day with going to her place to thank her, 'cause God knows what he might have done last night when he saw his ex-girlfriend slash current best friend – who also happens to be the love of his life (or at least he thought so) – had done such an effort to take care of him.

So now he's making his way to her house, to say thank you. And to hold her in his arms. Wait, hold her in his arms? Isn't it the girl he broke up with several months ago he's talking about? The girl he should – he thought – he was getting over?

Ten seconds after he's knocked on her door, she opens it. She's wearing sweat pants and one of his old sweaters that he let her keep. Apparently she still wears those. Huh. Interesting. Her short hair is pulled up in a messy bun, though there is more loose hair than in the actual updo. She's not wearing any make-up, but she's still beautiful to him. The look on her face when she sees him is one of the cutest things he's ever seen. Fuck, why does she have to be so adorable? Someone's trying to move on here!

"Uhm, I just wanted to say thank you..." He says, looking down at his feet.

"You're welcome," Kristen offers, suddenly finding great interest in her striped fuzzy socks. "You looked thinner," she adds, explaining.

"Yeah?" Rob asks, looking up at her again. "You too."

"Oh?" She takes notes of his sad smile before she looks down her body. She can't see any difference. But she guesses it's more noticeable to someone who doesn't see her every day. And someone who used to know every inch of her body.

He's debating whether to take the leap or not. She can tell of course, not what he's currently discussing with himself, but that there's something he wants to say, but isn't sure if he should.

Something in her eyes tells him to just say it, but he doesn't.

Instead he tells her thank you one more time. He doesn't hug her. As he looks at her one last time before he walks out of the door, his arms have never felt so empty.