January 1, 2026. 9am.

Emily: hey, where are you? Emily: i heard about duck and aggie Emily: fitz is on his way to pick me up to go to the hospital. are you already there?

[txt: Nate] Hey man. Guess we should plan our "date"

if emily could’ve rewound the night, she would’ve started at the exact moment she pressed play on britney’s bullshit. maybe earlier than that, back when she volunteered to be the wedding organizer, back when she still thought she could keep everything perfect if she just worked hard enough. maybe then she would’ve had a good night with her boyfriend instead of watching it unravel from the start. she spent most of the evening hiding in the library when she wasn’t aimlessly searching for nathan. with that many people and a house that big, it felt impossible like he could’ve been ten feet away or ten miles, and she wouldn’t have known the difference. by the time she finally made it back to her apartment, she was wrung out, hollowed, still buzzing with nerves she couldn’t turn off.

she didn’t expect to see him on their living room couch.

for one stunned second, she just stood there in the doorway. then relief hit her so hard it broke through everything else, and emily burst into tears. the kind that come out before you even realize you’re crying. it was enough to wake him, because nathan was a light sleeper, and emily hated herself a little for that. for disturbing his peace.

it took her a while to get them moving. ten minutes, maybe more, before she coaxed him up and guided him toward the bedroom like she was afraid he’d disappear if she blinked. she helped him out of most of his clothes, minus his jacket — he must’ve lost it at the party — and they climbed into bed. emily wrapped herself around him and held on too tight, like her arms could keep him from drifting away. she spent the night half-awake, counting his breaths, wondering if this was the last time she’d get to hold him like this.

in the morning, she woke up first. carefully, she untangled herself, moving slow so she wouldn’t wake him, and went to find headache medicine and a glass of water. she set them on the nightstand like an offering. wearing an oversized shirt, emily padded into the kitchen and decided she would make breakfast. not because breakfast fixed anything, but because she needed to do something with her hands.

she knew they would have to talk eventually. she also knew she was starving. nathan's favorite was blueberry pancakes...could she do that? possibly. she looked in the cabinets fully aware this was usually nathan's sanctum. but she would try. so she started making breakfast for the two of them, trying to pretend, just for a few minutes, that the morning could be gentle.

He knew it was late, or early depending on how you look at it, but he was almost a hundred percent sure his roommate would still be up. The two of them surprisingly had similar sleep schedules. Granted for very different reasons, but they were night owls all the same. (Ever the skeptic, JP had been pleasantly surprised at just how well moving to Carroll was turning out. Birch really had made the smartest move picking this town.) So, when his shift at Eden's ended at two in the morning, he had little doubt that his roomie would be actually sawing logs by the time he walked through the front door.

"Hey, Nate, man? You got a minute?" he called out as he took his shoes off at the door, draped his jacket over the couch, and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter.

When there was no answer in return, John-Paul took off through the house to find him sitting at his computer desk, headphones on and a game in progress on the screen. He hated to bother him, but it was kind of important, so he flicked the light switch a couple of times to announce his presence.

Emily had been drifting through the Christmas festival, half-distracted by the glow of string lights and the hum of laughter around her. December always did this to her. She loved the warmth people seemed to find this time of year—the way strangers smiled more easily, the way friends lingered longer. And with her birthday waiting just around the corner on January first, the season always felt like it belonged to her a little bit.

She stopped at the bake sale and picked up a bag of holiday cookies one for herself and one for Nathan. That part felt automatic because it always had. Hot chocolate steam curled into the cool afternoon air as she approached the stand, and that’s when she spotted him. Nathan, already there, elf hat and all. A smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it.

Emily slipped up beside him and bumped his shoulder lightly with hers, the kind of casual touch that came from years of shared space and easy closeness. “Hey, you,” she said, tilting her head up at him. “I got you something.” She held out the bag of cookies. “I was told by a very reliable source that these pair exceptionally well with hot chocolate.”

Her eyes flicked to the green-and-red elf hat, and she laughed, soft and fond. “Wow. You really committed to the festive spirit tonight.” She gestured at it. “So… where does one acquire a masterpiece like that? Or is this a limited-edition Beam original?” Her smile lingered a beat longer than necessary, warm and familiar, carrying that unspoken undercurrent she’d never quite named.

After picking Nathan up from work, Emily drove them down to the pier for Arcade City’s hot dog special. It was the first time they’d seen each other anywhere that wasn’t wrapped in hospital lighting since New Year’s, and she’d been trying not to think too hard about that. When Nathan got into the car, Emily greeted him the way she always did with a simple “hi” and their secret handshake, the one they’d made up nine years ago on a trip and never let die. Muscle memory took over. It felt easy. Familiar. Everything was fine. Normal.

The arcade was busy, loud with overlapping music and flashing lights, but they managed to snag their usual racing game. The Gran Turismo soundtrack blasted through the speakers as they settled in side by side, ready to compete like they always did. Emily loved the arcade. She always had. She remembered coming here as a kid with her parents, sinking hours into games, quarters filling her pockets. It was where her love of video games had first sparked. Over the years, the arcade had turned into a regular Nathan-and-Emily hangout spot, a place where they tried to outdo each other and mostly just talked. Somehow, they always ended up at the racing game.

Just like now.

She laughed when she clipped the wall again, the computer racers blowing past her. “Shit,” she said, breathless. “That last turn gets me every time. I swear I can’t take it without crashing.” She finished the race and groaned. “Seventh,” she muttered, leaning back in her seat. Then she looked at Nathan and her chest ached. Seeing him again like this, relaxed and familiar, felt like relief and grief tangled together. She’d been so sure she’d broken something that night. So sure that one kiss had changed the shape of everything. And yet here he was, still beside her. Still texting. Still video calling every day like nothing had fractured.

She was grateful in a way that almost hurt. If the options were this or not having him at all she’d choose this every time. Even if it meant swallowing the part of her that still wanted more. Her chest tightened anyway. She couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. About how close they’d been. About how quickly it had almost all gone away.

Emily reached into the shared popcorn between them, her fingers brushing the edge of the container, and took a few kernels she barely tasted. “I’ve missed this,” she said quietly, more to the moment than anything else. Then, softer—honest and unguarded—she added, “I’ve missed you.”

Vincent was having a blast. Declan was free, thankfully. Davin finally had gotten the balls to snatch Ruth up from the free market, months ago apparently. Go bro!! All his friends were there and he was slowly, but surely gathering them to his proudly chosen spot to watch the fireworks. Just like one of hia favorite songs by Joe Walsh, life was good.

He pulled out his phone as he cracked open his next beer and shot out a text inviting the next on his list to continue making this one of the most epic Fourths yet.

emily approached nathan with a drink in each hand, wearing the kind of grin that suggested she had already decided this was a good idea. “i’m not entirely sure what’s in this,” she admitted, holding one out to him, “but joel is playing bartender, and he claims it’s the best thing he’s ever made.” she shrugged, like that was enough qualification. “and i feel like a crew is supposed to trust their captain, so on three, we drink. if we’ve been poisoned, at least we’ll die together.” emily lifted her glass toward his, eyes bright with amusement. “one, two, three.”