Always You || Simon Minter (miniminter)

Chapter 11

Christmas Day.
Of all the days in the year, this is the one I've been dreading.

Not because of the presents or the cheesy songs or the forced traditions... but because this is the first Christmas that feels like a missing tooth. Every part of me aches around the empty space.

I barely slept. Christmas Eve is supposed to keep you awake from excitement — not dread. Every time I closed my eyes, memories of my mum would rise up like waves too tall to duck under. So now I'm here, buried under the duvet in Jide's hoodie, scrolling aimlessly through Twitter at 8 a.m., praying the boys sleep in and leave me in peace.

Of course they don't.

My door bursts open like it's been kicked off its hinges.

I scream. Loudly.

"What the fuck?!" I shout, grabbing the nearest pillow and launching it at the intruders.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" both boys yell — and before I can defend myself, JJ throws himself onto the bed, flattening me like a weighted blanket made of pure chaos.

I wheeze, smacking his arm until he rolls off me with a grin that's far too bright for someone who just committed attempted murder by cuddles.

"Merry Christmas," I mumble, rubbing my ribs. Simon sits safely at the end of the bed, like someone who's learned from years of JJ-related trauma.

A heavy sigh escapes me before I can stop it. "I'm gonna say sorry now, guys. I... I won't be very happy today."

The words feel small. Embarrassing. Like I've let them down before the day even starts.

Simon's hand settles gently on my leg through the duvet. Even though he's not touching skin, the warmth of the gesture sends a quiet, embarrassing shiver through me.

"Hey," he says softly, squeezing once, "we're here today because we know it's hard. You don't have to pretend."

Jide scoots closer, the playful energy slipping from his face. "It's not easy for me either—seeing you like this." His voice cracks slightly, and guilt stabs at my chest. "You're my best friend, Millie. I'm supposed to look after you."

I swallow, nodding. They're trying. God, they're trying so hard for me, and that alone is enough to make my throat tighten.

"Okay," I breathe. "Then... let's not sit here and sulk. Breakfast?"

Both their heads snap up like puppies at the word food. I roll my eyes.

⸻

Later

The day passes faster than I expect — not perfect, not magical, but gentler than the morning had promised.

We cook breakfast together and film a video: Who Knows JJ Better?
Simon wins, obviously. I'm years out of practice.
It stings a little, realising how much of JJ's life I missed... but if someone replaced me, I'm glad it was Simon.

Christmas dinner is a disaster.
Simon burns half the kitchen and JJ gives up halfway through, so we settle for turkey and chips. Classic.

Now we're all curled up in the living room watching The Nightmare Before Christmas. My choice — no regrets.

JJ falls asleep halfway through, stretched out like an oversized toddler. He looks peaceful when he's asleep. Probably because he can't talk.

Simon, though... he's fighting to stay awake. His eyes drift closed, then snap open. Closed, open. It's almost funny.

I stand and block the TV. "Come on," I whisper, "bed time."

He pouts — actually pouts — but takes my hands so I can pull him up. I tuck a blanket over JJ before guiding Simon quietly to his room.

He sits on the bed, staring at me with the softest expression, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I hope today wasn't too bad. We tried."

Something in the way he says we makes my chest tighten.

"You made it the best it could be," I tell him. And I mean it.

He peels off his t-shirt, exhausted, and lies back. That's my cue to leave — or it should be.
But when I turn to go, Simon's hand wraps gently around my wrist.

"Stay."

The word is quiet. Almost fragile.
It runs down my spine like warm water.

For a second — one dangerous second — I consider it.

But no. The day has been heavy enough. My emotions feel too raw, too fragile. Sleeping next to him, wrapped in warmth and false safety... I don't trust myself with that.

"I can't, Simon," I whisper. "Not tonight."

His eyes flicker — hurt, then understanding, then guilt for even asking. "Can... can I at least get a hug?"

I laugh softly and lean down, wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands slide around my waist, pulling me closer than I expect, his face pressed into my hair like he's memorising the way I smell.

It feels... nice. Too nice.

I pull back, just enough to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you for today."

He nods, eyes soft, and I slip out the door.

Only to walk straight into a wall of JJ.

"WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THERE?" he demands.

I nearly scream.

"Talking!" I whisper-yell, shoving him. "He fell asleep. And stop lurking, you freak!"

We head to my room together, and suddenly all the exhaustion — physical and emotional — catches up. My body feels like it's made of sand.

"I think I'm gonna sleep now," I sigh. "And... thank you, Jide. For everything. But I do need to go home soon. I can't hide out here forever."

He stops. Looks at me in a way he rarely does — quiet, serious, hopeful in a way that makes my chest hurt.

He takes my hand and leads me to sit on the edge of my bed, his fingers still wrapped around mine.

"Actually," he says slowly, a smile blooming across his face, "I wanted to ask if you'd maybe... want to move here. Live with us?"