Christmas would never be the same after everything that happened in Blackwood.

None of your friends talked anymore. Not much at least. Josh hadn’t contacted you once. You were actually pretty sure he had your number blocked so that you couldn’t reach him even if you wanted to.

You didn’t really like the holidays anymore. It just reminded you of baking cookies with him almost blackout drunk, laughing your asses off. You had to kick yourself for even reminiscing.

He’d been yours, but he’d been awful in the end. A part of you, a part that you were a little disappointed in, hoped he never even told anyone he talked to now that he’d known you. Because you both knew what’d happened. You, him, and all of your friends knew why you were all spending another Christmas apart.

After spending the entirety of Christmas Eve trying (and mostly failing) to keep up that holiday spirit for your family, you sat in your childhood room, staring blankly at a wall that was only lit up by the lights on the fake plastic in your room—music faintly playing in the background to try and get you in the mood for the day tomorrow.

Until it was interrupted by a buzz for your phone—the screen lighting up with the name “Josh” for the first time in almost two years.