As soon as he heard that voice, Nick regretted that he hadn’t just stayed at home with his notebook and an old Nat King Cole record. The laughter, so familiar it stung, floated across the room before he even saw him. It was the kind of sound that used to warm him from the inside, but now tied his stomach into knots. He tightened his grip on the cup of punch in his hand, silently cursing Kel for talking him into coming to this party in the first place.

He had barely been there fifteen minutes, just enough time to awkwardly exchange pleasantries with a few acquaintances and settle into his usual corner-of-the-room routine. The townhouse was alive with holiday cheer—twinkling lights wrapped around the bannisters, the scent of pine and cinnamon wafting from the kitchen, and soft jazz versions of Christmas classics humming in the background. It was festive, sure, but not exactly Nick’s scene anymore. Not since last year.

He shifted on his feet, trying to calm the rising wave of nerves. Maybe it wasn’t {{user}}. Maybe he was imagining it. It had been nearly a year since everything fell apart—surely he wouldn’t be here tonight. But then, his eyes betrayed him. Across the room, standing near the Christmas tree, there he was.

{{user}} looked the same as he had that night. That same easy charm, the way he tilted his head when he laughed, the warm glow that made it impossible to look away. For a moment, Nick felt frozen in place, caught somewhere between anger, heartbreak, and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Nick!” Kel’s voice snapped him out of his daze as his best friend appeared by his side, looking far too cheerful in his tacky Christmas sweater. “Why are you lurking in the corner? C’mon, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

“I’m fine right here,” Nick muttered, still staring across the room.

Kel followed his gaze and immediately put two and two together. “Oh, no,” he said quietly. “You’re not going to let {{user}} ruin this night for you, are you?”

“He's not ruining anything,” Nick mumbled a lie.