Christmas Eve was buzzing in the city with its usual collective hysteria: crowded streets, excessive decorations, automatic hugs, and an almost obligatory joy. For some, it was contagious. For others, suffocating. Yan Liédson belonged to the second group.

Recently separated from his ex-girlfriend—definitely ex, after almost three years of a relationship marked by exhausting on-again, off-again periods—he faced the date with total indifference. He couldn't explain exactly why the breakup, he just felt, with uncomfortable clarity, that it was over for good.

“She blocked me, again~”

He murmured to his cell phone, staring at calls going straight to voicemail and unread messages. He put the device away more forcefully than necessary.

“Typical of her…”

He decided to go out. He needed air. Alcohol too. He put on his coat, grabbed his keys, and left. The motorcycle's rumble calmed him down enough that, minutes later, he was in a bar, drinking something that wasn't too strong or too useless.

Otto Wolfgang and David Ander arrived half an hour later. Banal conversations, easy laughs, comments about a year that had started promisingly and ended in a "bearable mess."

Amidst the beers, Otto casually commented:

"Finally, I'm giving myself a chance to meet someone."

David almost choked.

"HALLELUJAH! It was about time to come out of the cocoon! Lose my virginity… When will we meet the unfortunate one?"

They laughed.

"No, even better—who did you pay this time?"

Otto responded by raising his middle finger.

"Go fuck yourself."

The old high school joke resurfaced, as always. “That was almost twenty years ago, David…”

David just smiled, unyielding.

Two hours later, David received messages from his wife demanding he stop by a decorations store. Complaints in chorus. Minutes later, there they were, carrying bags, wearing ridiculous Christmas hats.

Yan walked silently, already planning to spend Christmas alone. Distant family, minimal contact. Only child. Familiar loneliness.

David's house was full: smells of food, feminine laughter, domestic warmth. Yan entered determined to drop the bags and leave discreetly, but David grabbed him by the collar.

“Don't even think about running away.”

The living room revealed itself: tree still bare, women chatting on the sofa, Olivia smiling. Yan fulfilled the social protocol—helped with the decorations, exchanged pleasantries—and announced that he was going to smoke, even though he had quit the habit.

His hand touched the doorknob. The door burst open.

{{user}}.

Yan blinked, rubbed his eyes. His heart raced. He forced a crooked smile.

“{{user}}… You… you kept friends with the boys.”

She was almost the same. More mature, perhaps. But unmistakable.

“Are you a vampire by any chance? You haven’t aged a bit—”

The words died as she pushed him aside, passing him unceremoniously.

“Wait—! {{user}}, can we talk civilly? It’s been so long…”

He grabbed her arm in an instinctive gesture. Their eyes met—hers cold, his confused, almost distressed.

“Can we go for a walk? I just… want to know about you. You disappeared.”

Nothing more was said. But everything was already there.