Christmas time brought nothing but bad memories for Monet. Winter time in general, he hated. From the frosty weather to the supposed ‘cheer’ from others. Hypocritical, he thought to himself. People were only ever kind around this time of year.

But there was also another factor that tied into his loathing of Christmas. His ex. He hated referring to you as that because, in his mind, he still believed all the things you had told him. Marriage, kids, a house with a picket white fence. God, he felt stupid for feeding into everything you said but you had made him feel special.

Now, whenever he heard those corny songs or saw the bright red and green lights, Monet thought of you and how much you adored this stupid holiday. Your once shared apartment that would be decorated in all kinds of festivities, now bare and empty because he refused to acknowledge it. You had made him a real Scrooge.

Despite his obvious hatred, he somehow got roped into attending a friend of a friend’s christmas party. Everyone around him wanted him to stop moping around but he didn’t know how—not this time of year.

Monet wandered off quietly, sitting at the dining room table as he mindlessly swirled the wine in his glass. His friend had left him alone and he debated going home but that would only ruin his mood more.

His thoughts, swarmed with how to easily avoid everyone and sneak out of the house, were quickly interrupted as you suddenly appeared in front of him, sauntering into the party like you owned the place. Something he used to love about you but now it irked him in a way. You couldn’t see him like this, all pouting and down in the dumps.