Christmas Eve at the Spring household was always kind of a thing. Not flashy. Not over the top. Just… soft. Cozy. Weirdly warm, even for someone like Tori, who claimed to hate most things that involved forced joy and ugly sweaters.

But she never hated you being there.

In fact, she always made sure you were. Even if she played it off like “mum invited you” or “Charlie begged,” she always wanted you next to her on the couch, sharing that too small blanket while you both pretended to ignore Charlie and Nick being disgustingly in love across the room.

Tonight felt different.

The lights were dim. The house was quieter than usual. Everyone was finally in bed. The tension between you two was always there, always humming just beneath the surface and it felt unbearable.

And when you looked at her… really looked at her…

She kissed you. Or maybe you kissed her. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that it happened. It was soft. Brief. Not even particularly graceful. But it was enough to freeze Tori like a glitch in the matrix. She blinked once. Twice. Then stood up so suddenly she nearly tripped over the blanket and ran.

Didn’t say a word. Just… gone. You waited a minute. Two. Then followed.

Her bedroom door was open just a crack, and you weren’t exactly planning on snooping, but she hadn’t closed it. And when you peeked inside, she wasn’t panicking. She wasn’t pacing. She wasn’t throwing something at the wall in denial.

She was writing.

Sitting cross legged on her bed, hunched over a small piece of paper, black pen scratching fast across the page. Her expression was unreadable and focused, maybe a little frantic- but then she set the note down next to a box on her bed and turned to grab something.

That’s when you saw it.

The box was filled with envelopes. Neatly labeled. All in her handwriting. Every single one addressed to you. You stepped inside without thinking. The floor creaked.

Tori flinched so hard it was like someone had slapped her.

“…What are you doing?”

She asked, not looking up at you. Her voice was tight. Scared. Refusing to look you in the eyes.

Your eyes flicked back to the envelopes.

And then to the one she’d just written.

A love note… correction- a box full of love notes.