Chapter Text
She swears it’s probably the millionth TikTok she’s seen today about how Christmas doesn’t feel the same anymore. And yet, for her, it’s true. She tells herself it’s just because of her parents’ divorce,having to choose where to celebrate, choosing who she’s going to disappoint.
But in the back of her mind, she knows that’s not it.
It’s the first Christmas without Max.
They didn’t have a big fight. There was no dramatic ending. It was quiet,they just grew apart. At least, that’s what she tells herself.
They didn’t grow apart.
She disappeared and left Max behind.
A loud noise pulls her out of her thoughts. It comes from downstairs. She already knows what it is—she’s done this a million times since her dad left. It’s her mom.
Abby slides out of her warm bed and heads down the stairs. She finds exactly what she expected: her mother, who’s had a few too many again.
“Abbyyy, sweetheart, how are youuu? … How was y—”
“Mom, what’s wrong with you?” Abby cuts in. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just celebrating a bit, you know…” Her mom’s voice breaks, and suddenly she’s crying. “Christmas without your dad…”
“Mom,” Abby says with an empty voice, stepping closer. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
She takes the bottle from her hand, slips an arm around her shoulders, and guides her to the couch. Luckily, her mom falls asleep quickly, her breathing evening out as if nothing happened.
Back in her room, Abby grabs her phone and scrolls through old photos—from back when she and Max were okay. Her throat tightens. God, how much she misses her. She wishes she could call her right now. Not to talk about anything serious. Just to joke around, to distract herself, like they used to.
The photo pulls her under before she can stop it.
Christmas, two years ago—back when her world was mostly okay.
Her parents were fighting constantly, and even now the memory of their voices bleeding through the walls of her room tightens her chest. But she wasn’t alone. She had Max. She didn’t realize how much she needed her until she pushed her away.
In the photo, she and Max are sitting on her bed—the same bed she’s sitting on now. But it’s different. Now it feels empty. The joy that filled the room back then is gone.
There’s a present resting in Abby’s lap. She remembers the moment vividly.She’s usualy hates receiving gifts,not because she isn’t grateful, but because she struggles to show it. Especially when the gift comes from her dad, a reminder of how little he knows her.
But this was different.
This was Max. The person who knew her better than anyone else. The one who put thought and love into every gift she ever gave her.
She remembers how Max watched her more than the present, like everything depended on Abby’s reaction,like she needed to know she’d done a good job.
She always did.
The only thing Max was never good at was wrapping presents. The paper had been crooked and messy, taped together like she’d rushed through it, too excited to care.
Abby’s phone buzzes, pulling her back to the present. A notification from the ANG group chat lights up the screen.
norah: Merry Christmas y’all
ginny: thx, you too
norah: thx and just so you know I NEED to see your Christmas hauls
norah: pleaseeee
ginny: obvi, just need to wait until the present from my dad arrives
ginny: btw are you going to Brodie’s on Saturday
Abby stares at the last message longer than she should. She wants to go, but the thought of Max being there tightens her chest. She places her phone beside her bed and turns off the light, letting sleep take her somewhere safer—somewhere she can’t mess anything up.
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The room is too bright.
Abby is standing in her childhood hallway, but it’s wrong somehow,longer than it should be, the walls stretching farther the more she looks at them. Christmas lights line the ceiling, glowing softly, humming like they’re alive.
She knows she’s dreaming. The knowledge sits in her chest heavy but without panic.
There’s laughter at the end of the hall. Familiar. Warm.
“Max?” she calls, her voice echoing back to her, thinner than it should be.
The laughter stops.
Abby starts walking, then somehow running, her feet barely touching the floor. The hallway bends, curves, pulling her forward. The closer she gets, the quieter everything becomes,until there’s only the sound of her own breathing.
She turns the corner. From a distance, she sees the door to her room, just wide enough open for her to see herself and Max sitting on her bed,not her bed now, her old bunk bed.
She begged her dad for one so Max could sleep over even more often.They used to build pillow caves that felt endless.
She felt an ache inside her chest as she starts running trying to get back to the room, to the place she used to love but the faster she ran the farther the door moved away.Tears run down her cheeks,her vision blurs.
And then she wakes up.
Her room is dark. Quiet. Real.
Her phone lights up beside her bed.