#freakmas

slow christmas songs play lowly from a record joel had put on, setting the mood of the crackling wood in the fireplace, and the twinkling tree in the corner.

the older man is laughing with ellie about something in the kitchen, and for a moment, this feels normal. like you belong here, and you’re happy to be here; something so wrong.

three weeks of heartache, shoved to the pits of your stomach, forced to smile and act as though you didn’t carry that overbearing pain. as if you and ellie were okay. she might be. you’re not sure, she doesn’t open up about her feelings to you anymore, especially not about your breakup.

it would be too hard, for her, for you, for your loved ones that view you two as inseparable. sure, the time will come when it can no longer remain a secret, but you’re in no rush to admit to something you still cannot even fathom happening in the first place. 

to tell the world that ellie isn’t yours anymore, that the small insignificant arguments had somehow piled up and led you down an unhappy path. something so odd to think about now, because you’ve only ever been happy with ellie. until now.

you see her from the corner of your eye, taking a seat on the couch beside you, but not next to you. not directly, not close enough to place her hand on your lap, to allow your head to rest on her shoulder. even as much as that hurts, it doesn’t compare to the emotional distance between you.

your eyes remain on the glowing fire before you, not daring to look at the woman who was already looking to you. searching for something to say, to make this less awkward. her mouth stays shut, allowing the quiet void to be filled with whatever sad christmas song was playing. 

you’re grateful the moment is soon interrupted by a knock at joel’s door, signaling his brother and his wife have arrived. you watch the flip switch in ellie, her cold demeanor around you suddenly dropping with a smile, hugging tommy and maria while you fiddle with your fingers.

you’re next to be engulfed in tight embraces, the couple had done an incredible job at making you feel welcomed in their family. they have since they realized ellie was pretty fucking serious about you, but that was three years ago. three years now down the drain.

you force a smile when you catch the negative thoughts spilling in your head, though it doesn’t reach your eyes, ellie noticing from a few feet away. 

she hated it.

joel interrupts with the announcement of dinner, bringing you a great sense of relief. just get it over with, pass out in the guest bedroom you two are occupying for the night, and leave in the morning. go back to life without her.

you sit in the chair next to ellie, feeling her hand cling to yours under the table. she squeezes gently, and you’re unsure if it was out of reassurance or habit. regardless, you sharply pull your hand away, her head snapping towards you, but you don’t look at her. 

you pick at your food, drowning ellie out with whatever conversation joel and tommy are sharing, even laughing at their stupid jokes. and it’s genuine, ellie spotting the twinkle in your eyes when your lips curled upwards. 

she was so fixated on you looking…happy, that she hadn’t realized she was the topic of discussion, joel telling a story about her rebellious teenage years. 

you forget the tension between you two at the moment, especially when ellie chimes in, correcting joel on some of the details, and eventually just taking over.

you direct your attention to her, the tint of red painting her freckled cheeks due to embarrassment, which slowly faded as she chuckled at her younger self. 

she was always so adorable when she got flustered, and you’re reminded how much she hated it when you pointed that out. or so, she pretended to. she never admitted that just made her even more flustered. 

her eyes meet yours now, and you’re pulled out of the moment, smile falling. an exchanged uncomfortable glare. loving gazes now replaced with something bitter and too much for you to bear. you redirect your eyes to your lap.

joel takes in the sight from the end of the table, sipping on his drink, before speaking. 

“so… you two gonna keep lookin’ like you’ve got a secret?” 

you both turn to him.

“hm?” “what?”

your voices blend with each other, the heat rising in your cheeks at the spotlight put on you two. was it that obvious? did he have to point it out? 

“a secret? who’s gotta secret?” tommy chimes in, your head now dipping as ellie lets out an exhausted sigh. “no one— no one,” ellie says, using that firm tone that everyone recognizes as her stop bothering me tone. you got pretty used to it in the days leading up to your breakup.

joel drops it, knowing if ellie wanted joel to know anything, she would’ve told him. tommy dares to pry, though, not recognizing the thick tension. 

“y’all hiding rings from us?” he chuckles, but no one laughs. if anything, it makes you want to cry. you would pick that scenario over this a million times over again. you wonder what you could’ve done differently that would’ve led you down that road with her, and down the aisle. 

how you could’ve treated her better, despite treating her like the most loved person in the entire world. because that’s what she is to you, even now. how you could’ve solved every issue that snuck into your relationship, despite trying to and ending up feeling like you had only made it so much worse. 

how you would be holding her fidgety hand under this table, just longing to feel the comfort of her warm touch, rather than dropping it and being repelled by her touch. how everything could’ve been good. perfect, even. instead, you’re stuck grieving a fleeting relationship in silence. 

ellie clears her throat, “maybe one day.”

ouch. your chair scrapes against the wooden floorboard, ellie looking up at you as you walk away, excusing yourself to the bathroom. you don’t register you’re crying until you’re locked safely in the small room, holding onto the sink, letting them fall down your face.

maybe it was the way she said it— like she almost believed it. or wished for it. or the idea that your ex-girlfriend was going to be married, and it wasn’t to you. that you’re here, for the last time. that you’re spending the most wonderful time of year with the love, and loss, of your life, for the last time. 

you had managed to wear faux smiles since the break up— it was inevitable for this breakdown to occur. 

after a moment of muffling your cries into your hands, there’s silence, you attempting to calm yourself and return to a state of false normalcy. then the gentle knock hits the bathroom door, joel’s gruff voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“you alright, kiddo?”

you dry your face, practicing a smile in the mirror, then swinging the door open. “yeah— yeah, sorry,” you tell him, “just don’t feel well.”

it’s not a complete lie, you truly feel like the earth is crumbling at your feet. you wouldn’t tell him why, exactly, but joel had two working eyes.

“you know…if there’s anything going on between you two…” he drifts off, not even sure where he was going with this. he wasn’t great with advice, he just tried to speak on what he knew. and what he knows is, you’re one of the best things to happen to ellie. 

“you two got lucky finding each other. that’s all,” he tells you, giving a sad smile like he is aware of the situation without having it explained to him. 

it crushes your heart even more, another nail hit in the coffin of you and ellie. another pile of dirt poured over you two, burying your relationship that you’re not ready to let go of. but holy fuck, is it nearly out of your grasp.

when he walks away, the tears begin to build again. you swiftly walk to the bedroom ellie and you were staying for the night, hearing the muffled voices from downstairs, hoping you weren’t the topic. 

you are. not in the sense that you dread, though, rather being spoken about highly from maria. ellie keeps her green eyes trained on the floor, listening to the woman elaborate on the words that tommy had said earlier. a ring. a proposal. a step forward for you two. 

not knowing there wasn’t a step forward, there was nothing anymore. 

“y/n…they uh, aren’t feeling too hot,” joel changes the topic, ellie picking up her lowly hung head. though she can assume the reasoning as to why, she still leaves the room, a need to check in on you, even if that’s not what you want. 

you hear the door open, but you’re laid comfortably on your side, not bothering to turn over and see her. 

“hey,” her voice is wary, nervous while approaching the bed. she sees the tear marks on your pretty face, the one nearly covered by the blanket pulled up to the tip of your nose. ellie kneels on the floor beside you, meeting you face to face. sad eyes to miserable eyes. 

“it’s too much, ellie,” you whisper, voice cracking near immediately. 

“i know.”

“why did we…” you stop yourself, the heat in your cheeks now burning you alive, thinking about it too much. something that’s said and done, something you two discussed to not talk about again, and yet. 

“it’s so hard,” you barely get out, now pulling the blanket over your head completely, a safe space to let your tears flow rather than in front of the only person that would ever comfort you. 

ellie still does, pulling the soft fabric back down, palm resting against your cheek kindly— wishing she could take the same pain she is experiencing, from you. 

she would endure it, and perhaps this would be easier. entering the new year no longer caring for her. putting yourself first for once rather than her. loving yourself more than her. it would all be so easy. 

her head falls, and her eyes water. your blurry vision clears when you take notice, suddenly putting your emotions on the back burner and wiping your eyes. 

“els,” you whisper, throwing the blanket off of you and sitting up. your legs swing over the edge of the bed, ellie taking it as an invitation to close whatever space was between you, sobbing in your lap. a rare sight, she hadn’t even done this the night you had split. she was monotone, numb in that moment. now, it’s crashing down on her at once. 

you stay like this until her crying stops, the house now quiet, tommy and maria having left. joel is assumingly in his bedroom, passed out as a christmas classic plays on his television. the house feels colder, or maybe that’s just the bedroom. 

when ellie adjusts herself, she looks up to you, an unspoken conversation being held between your damp eyes. 

ellie leans forward, doing the last thing she should do right now, and kisses you. softly. sadly. passionately. 

you scoot back on the bed, her lips not leaving yours while she crawls on top of you, neither of you thinking right now— not about what’s happening, anyway. 

all you feel is her, and you need her, in every sense, weeks of telling yourself that you don’t now unraveling. this isn’t about lust. even when her cool hand travels to the waistband of your pants, finding warmth inside of them, awaiting a reaction from you. to push her away, or change your mind, she waits for it. 

her lips part from yours, face inches from yours, studying you. you speak quietly, “please.”

she gulps.

once more, she leans in, lips moving slowly with yours, while her hand slips into your underwear. you gasp into her mouth when you feel her, busying your own hands beneath her dark shirt, resting them against her pale back. 

your nails dig into her the moment her middle finger enters you, but you only whimper when she adds her ring finger, letting you adjust to how she feels inside you— just right.

then she curls them, angling them on that spongey spot without fault, kissing you harder when a yelp attempts to escape from your lips, being reunited with a feeling you had longed for. 

the feeling of ellie taking care of you. wanting to make you feel more than okay. not locked in the bathroom crying after an argument, or isolated in your shared bed because she’d rather sleep on your worn-out thrifted couch. 

ellie loving you. 

the wind howls against the windows in the bedroom, and you hope the eerie noise blocks your crying out. it doesn’t, and ellie suddenly stops. 

“fuck,” she whispers to herself, both guilt and shame creeping into her veins. she took this too far, she thinks. ellie attempts to pull away, but your hand grips her arm, preventing her from doing so.

“i’m okay— ellie, please,” you tell her, afraid to stop, and to lose this. you need this. you beg again, “please, baby.”

and ellie repeats herself again, “fuck.”

to your request, she keeps going, fucking you while you cling to her. ellie is going fast, relentless, and the noises between your thighs are indecent. your grasp gets tighter the closer she brings you to that light at the end of the tunnel, but you can’t seem to actually reach it. 

you’re drifting, even when she picks up her pace, pressing against the sweet spots that would usually have you seeing stars.

you know ellie is rushing this. she’s not making love to you, she’s fucking you crudely, but right now your mind is desperately trying to blur those lines.

your eyes remain shut when ellie’s face parts from yours, attempting to chase that high running away from you. 

“hey,” ellie speaks, “look at me, y/n.”

you obey, brows furrowed with pleasure and sadness. you probably look a mess; she doesn’t think so. “beautiful,” she says, that rasp in her voice that you’re utterly obsessed with.

“haven’t said it enough lately…but you are…so fucking beautiful,” ellie continues, not slowing down the rhythm at which she moved in and out of you. “wish you could see yourself…fuck…”

you know what she’s doing, but it’s absolutely working.

she feels you tighten around her, heart racing and jaw-dropping with a moan threatening to spill from your soft lips. she reacts quickly, palm on your mouth to muffle the noise, these walls too thin for the noises she made you make.

“gonna be quiet for me?” ellie asks, the question more so teasing than sincere. still, you nod lazily against the mattress. she questions you again, “gonna cum for me?”

you don’t answer her this time— your body does that for you, shuddering beneath her and crying out into her hand. ellie doesn’t drag it out, she removes her fingers, sucking them while you collect yourself, calming your shaky breath.

it’s a waiting game for who speaks first, ellie shifting and sitting at the edge of the bed, gripping the blanket beneath her. she’s trying to wrap her head around…all of this…around you. 

meanwhile, you force your tired body to move, crawling behind her and wrapping your arms around her torso, head resting on her shoulder. a position you could stay in forever if life was kind enough and allowed you to. 

“we can tell him in the morning.”

her words bring you out of the haze you’re in, like a bucket of ice-cold water thrown in your fucking face. that’s what ellie did best. she gave you everything you had wanted, just to take it away.