merry christmas, please don't call | luke castellan
pairing: luke castellan x gn!reader (no use of pronouns—but please do lmk if i ended up missing anything by accident!), no mention of reader's godly parent so pick whomever you like! (except for hermes obviously and also it's implied that dionysos isn't readers father, but can be passed over too if you don't mind squinting)
warnings: some swearing, mentions of depression and the beginning of a panic attack, other than that i kept it relatively light (i believe), takes place after book one but before book two, i have not watched the show so i am going based off book canon
word count: 8,2k
summary: based on "merry christmas, please don't call" by the bleachers; christmas comes around only once a year, and reader was not going to let luke take that away from them, too
a/n: my dearest party people! it's been soooo long! who knew quitting my job would end with me actually having the time and energy to sit down and let those creative juices flow? well, here i am. i had this idea LAST christmas, and finally sat down to actually put it into something readable for someone other than myself and it has officially become my longest piece of work EVER??!!?!? anyway! enjoy! and best believe that the excessive use of m-dashes is very much my own doing, thank you very much. not even ai can match me when it comes to the unnecessary usage of that bad boy. also i may or may not be planning a part two of this so if any of you might be interested… feel more than just free to let me know!!!! with all that being said, happy reading and merry belated chrysler to all those who celebrate!!!!
masterlist
4:16 a.m.
You were exhausted. Bone deep tiredness was making your movements sluggish and caused you to miss your toothbrush with the paste not once but twice already, the sink a mess of minty globs. The last couple of days had been a whirlwind at best, and an absolute catastrophe at worst.
But no matter how badly your body ached and how big of a challenge it was to keep your eyes open—you had no regrets. After all, Christmas only came around once a year, and for a lot of the younger kid’s, this was their last reminder of a simpler life.
And not only for them. The idea of creating the perfect holiday celebration had become nothing short of an obsession for you. Where once every waking second was spent pondering the question of why, your time had now for the past month been blissfully consumed by wreaths and mistletoes and how to best spice the older kids eggnog without Chiron and especially Mr D noticing.
Unsurprisingly, that only ended up working for as long as you didn't slender back to your cabin, with your body aching from placing far too many ornaments in far too many places that people would never even see them at—to the absolute disdain of many tree nymphs. It was hard to care, though, considering that it was thanks to that exhaustion only that sleep seemed to finally find you again, albeit still fitfully and only every other night. But it was still better than the alternative, which was what your nights typically tended to look like: tossing and turning in your bed, until you eventually curled yourself into a ball and wept into your pillow, pretending as if that somehow stopped any of your siblings from listening in on your pitiful sobs.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, it took the last of your strength to even make it into your bed, let alone keep your eyes open long enough to feel your head hit the pillow, before sleep embraced you in its warm embrace.
8:27 a.m.
"Wake up! It's Christmas!" You were wondering how bad it would be to have the first action of your day be murder. Surely it couldn't be worse that being awoken by not one, not two, but three demigods jumping up and down on your bed, screaming as if it was their last day on earth. If only they knew.
"Come on!" one of them whined—the latest addition to your family tree, a little guy barely old enough to tie his own shoelaces and already thrown head first into this bullshit version of a life—tugging anxiously at your pyjama sleeve. "Chiron said there would be a surprise at breakfast!" Of course there would be. You had spent the entire night working on it, without any help from anyone, thank you very much. Not that he didn't offer any, but taking the centaurs help would have meant talking to him privately, and that was one thing you tried to avoid as much as you could these days.
"Alright, alright" you finally relented, getting up with a groan due to the ache in your back that you were far too young to feel so chronically and intensely. "Just—let me get dressed, alright? Can't greet Santa looking as if I stole Christmas from the Grinch" you grumbled, needing a moment to find the holiday cheer your siblings apparently woke up with. You knew you had to get it together for them, but you were tired—not even exhaustion had stopped the nightmares from coming. So much for wishing on a Christmas miracle. But you wouldn't let thoughts of him ruin today—if not for your sake, then for that of your siblings and all the other kids at camp. They didn't deserve it, and you'd be damned if you let your issues spoil the day for them.
After putting on the possibly ugliest Christmas jumper known to man—a collective gift from the Hermes cabin to thank you for doing such a good job on last years festivities—you presented it alongside a red santa hat to the others. "Now, who's ready for Christmas to truly begin?"
11:56 a.m.
Breakfast was a success, to say the least. Everyone—and when you said everyone, you really meant everyone, including Clarisse—was in awe at what you had done with the dining pavillon. There were wreaths hanging from every beam, bows and giant snowflakes decorating the walls, little sparkling Christmas trees standing on every table. Everyone had a personalized ornament placed in front of their plate, with their name and something corresponding to their godly heritage drawn onto them. A huge tree was standing next to the head table, bare except for a couple of stringlights. It was meant to allow for everyone to help in decorating the tree by hanging their ornament on after their sacrifice.
Fake snow and silver stars gave the final touch to the Winter-Wonderland fantasy you were trying to convey, and seeing the look on everyone's faces truly made all the hard work worth it.
"You did good, kid" Mr D said, looking at two kids racing each other throughout the pavillon, throwing fake snow into the air and watching it fall down all around them. "Really good."
You liked him, more so than you would ever admit. For all his flaws, he really did have his moments of striking likeability, like when he actually bothered to show that he, sometimes, cared about more than wine and nymphs. "They deserve it" you said quietly, a small smile playing on your lips. They had become somewhat of a rarity as of lately, but it was hard not to feel a swell of warmth at the sight in front of you. This was what it was all about, in the end. The thing you were fighting for, would always fight for. This, and nothing else.
1:03 p.m.
You had managed rather well to keep him out of your thoughts, pretending that life truly was nothing more than candy canes and an abundance of hot chocolate. And, really, didn't you deserve it? To pretend, even if just for one day?
The answer, clearly, was no. Because here you were, getting ready for lunch, taking out your Secret Santa gift for Silena from its hiding place, when seemingly out of nowhere, your last Secret Santa gift came into view. You had completely forgotten about it, until now. Didn't even think you still had it. There had been a very dramatic and collective throwing away of everything that reminded you of him, a couple of weeks after that day. Somehow, this must have fallen through the cracks.
It took you a moment to truly register what it was, but once you did, it was hard not to fall apart right then and there. You remembered how touched you were at the thoughtfulness of the gift when Katie had presented it to you last year. It was meant to be something both practical and sentimental. You had told her how you kept loosing the key to the armory—to the great disdain of quite literally everyone. Chiron had made you responsible for locking the armory up every night, since you were the oldest next to him, and he did always trust you to be the more responsible one, which you were. Obviously, you were. But the key was small, and constantly disappeared in one short-pocket or the other, which tended to delay training for everyone on more than one occassion. So, she decided to gift you a keychain, and to make sure that you wouldn't misplace that, too, she made sure to put one of your favorite pictures with him in it.
Even know, you couldn't help but feel fondness at the two faces staring up at you, so young and so in love. It had been the first picture taken of you two as a couple. You still remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. He had taken you out for a picnic by the lake, and you had teased him the entire time for how nervous he was. "You already convinced me to date you, silly" you had said. "Surely you can relax now?"
And he did, eventually. But it did take time. He had spent two whole years chasing after you, and then, when he finally had you, it was as if he constantly held his breath, afraid of losing you. As if at any given moment, someone might come and take you from him. Funny, then, how he ended up being the reason he lost you in the end. Him and his actions alone.
Katie had come along later that day and found you two still sprawled out on the blanket, looking for shapes in the clouds. It had been so easy to be with him. You could spend hours upon hours talking with him about absolutely nothing and still consider it to be the best time of your life.
She had ordered you two to stay exactly as you were, before running back to get her camera and snapping a picture of you. It had instantly become your favorite and even though there were a million more taken throughout the years, none of them compared to the first one in your eyes.
It had hit you like a brick, to find this reminder of your past, proof of a life that included him as yours, and not as the enemy. Of course everyone here knew. Most of them still found it hard to trust you—those that didn't know you, not really, at least. It was easy to think of you as the enemy, too. Surely you must have known? Surely, if you really were in love, you would have noticed? He would have trusted you with it—he had to have. Right?
But he didn't. He didn't trust you, and you still didn't know wether you hated him for that the most, or if you were thankful he did you at least this little kindness. Because, truly, you didn't know what you would have done. Would you have tried to convince him otherwise? Obviously. You knew he hated the gods, had your own issues with them at times. But this? This was madness. You would have tried your damndest to change his mind, would have fought him tooth and nail on it. And then what? That's the big question, wasn't it? What would you have done, had it not worked? Would you have gone with him? Told Chiron and Mr D about him? Tried to stop him yourself? And how would you have done that, exactly? Chained him up? Killed him?
Questions upon questions you tried and failed to find the answers for, over and over again. It was easy to paint him as this evil monster, the enemy, someone you clearly didn't know that well at all, when you never got faced with the choice yourself. Would you have chosen him over everyone else you loved and everything you spent your entire existence believing in? Would the destinction between good and bad even matter, when faced with the question of life with or without him? And what did that make you, if you couldn't even honestly say wether you wouldn't have willingly burned the world to the ground, if it meant that you could be with him?
You were spiraling again, breaths coming in shorter and shallower, and you could feel it, could feel the thoughts taking over, drowning you—
"Hey, you ready?" It took you a second to register that the voice belonged to Charles and wasn't just another bad dream haunting you, and it took you another one to realize that he was actually talking to you.
Shaking your head once—a poor attempt at discarding yourself of thoughts you had no time for today—you grabbed your gift, while simultaneously letting the keychain fall back into its hiding place. You'd discard of it later. Today wasn't about him, or you, or the never ending supply of what if's? swirling around in your head constantly. Today was about Christmas, and right now, you had a gift to deliver.
"Coming."
3:11 p.m.
You had calmed down a little. The Secret Santa gift exchange had gone by smoothly. Silena practically squealed when she opened your gift, which was a snowglobe with a rotating figurine of her and Charlie in it, something you had spent the past month working on with the help of various kids from the Hephaestus cabin. It had been a nice enough task to get your mind off thoughts of him, even though it broke your heart at times to think of how happy the two of them were because it kept on reminding you how happy you used to be, once upon a time.
In turn, Pollux got you a flask with your initials on it. It was quite common knowledge around camp that you used to be rather rebellious growing up, always bringing the life to every party that ended up being thrown on the grounds, with a seemingly never ending supply of cheap spirits. Even after you grew out of it—after all, there was something rather… irresponsible about an eighteen year old getting much younger kids wasted on a random Tuesday—the others still considered you to be the token rascal, and what real rascal didn't own a personalized flask? At least that's how Pollux tried to explain his gift to you, and even though the meaning behind it made you a little bit sad, you still appreciated the thought he put into it nonetheless.
Because while yes, it was you who everyone could count on to spike the punch at the campfire, you never did it by yourself. There was always someone else by your side, your partner in crime, your lookout—someone you could count on to take the fall every once in a while so Mr D didn't go through with his threat of this being the last time he would let you do something so stupid before kicking you to the curb. Realistically, you knew he'd never actually go through with it, but you never did like to tempt the fates unnecessarily.
You had found your way back into your cabin, sneaking off from the gathering at the lake which had been turned into a makeshift icerink—courtesy of Poseidon—sitting down on your bed and allowing yourself to take your first real break of the day. It was harder than you anticipated, and you had made sure to expect the worst. You usually did, these days.
It was also the first time you actively allowed your mind to wander in his direction. What was he doing, you wondered. Did he celebrate Christmas? You doubted it. Monsters didn't seem the type to build gingerbread houses and watch reruns of Home Alone for the uptenth time. It made you sad, in a way, which in turn made you angry, because what were you doing, wasting your time pitying him? After everything he had done and continued to do, having a shitty Christmas was the least he deserved. And yet.
You had always loved the holiday more than the average person did. The twinkling lights, the smell of spices, hot chocolates, baking cookies and wrapping gifts… all of it had always seemed like the truest form of magic to you—even after you had discovered that actual magic existed, and that it was part of who you were. He had embraced it in a way no one else had done at camp. You always supposed it had more to do with the fact that he loved you, rather than the holiday itself, but whatever whim you had, he always did his best to help you in carrying it out. There had been the year you decided to knit hats for every single camper, which had taken weeks and ended with more than a few nearly-poked-out eyes, but he hadn't even complained once. Or the year you decided to cover every single cabin in twinkling lights that flickered their respective gods or goddesses name out in morse code, which took the two of you seven hours and twenty-three YouTube tutorials to figure the logistics out, after which you spent the entire night before Christmas morning installing them. Not once did he show how annoyed he surely must have been at you for having him do something so ridiculously tedious and unnecessary—something probably no one would even truly appreciate. That had never mattered to you, though, and he must have loved you enough to have that be enough of a reason for him to help you with it. And yet he still didn't love you enough to trust you with the truth.
You were interrupted from your spiralling thoughts by a knock on the door, with a familiar blonde head poking in right after.
"Hey" Annabeth said. "The others wondered where you went."
"Just needed a minute" you said, turning away from her. Your relationship with Annabeth had always been a rather strained one, but not due to lack of trying from your side. You had always known how important she was to him, how he loved her as if she was his own flesh and blood—more so than he loved his actual siblings, you sometimes thought. And because he had been the single most important thing to you, it had only made sense for you to try to form at least some sort of relationship with Annabeth. She, however, had always seemed more than just disinterested in you. "You can tell them I'll be right out."
Instead of hearing her receeding footsteps, you felt the bed dip next to you. Turning your head, you gave her a curious look. The two of you hadn't talked even once since that day, with both of you knowingly avoiding the other.
"I'm sorry" she simply said.
Raising your eyebrow, you let out a humorless laugh. "What in Hades' name would you possibly have to apologize to me for?"
She had been looking at her shoes ever since sitting down next to you, but now she finally found your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner. I know it's been hard for you." She didn't have to explain what she meant by it. Everyone at camp knew. It was probably the worst kept secret, how ridiculously shitty you were doing. It's why you had decided to move back home after Christmas, something you yet had to discuss with anyone here. Of course you wouldn't be able to stay with your parents, but they had promised to help you out with rent until you were able to get by on your own, and living in a crappy one-bedroom apartment with a leaky faucet and moldy walls surely had to beat muffling your cries in a cabin full of your younger halfsiblings, wondering how insane they thought you to be.
"It's been hard for all of us. I hardly doubt the past couple of months have been a walk in the part for anyone here" you responded.
Smiling, Annabeth shook her head. She looked older somehow, you thought, than she had just mere months ago. Funny how quickly betrayal aged you. "No, it wasn't. But it's different for you. More personal. And I say that as someone for whom it's already pretty personal."
She was right, of course. No matter how awful it's been for everyone else to get betrayed by someone they thought they knew, someone they cared for and maybe even adored—it was nothing compared to being betrayed by the one person you were meant to trust unconditionally, the person you loved most in the world, the person you had planned out your entire future with. To know that none of it mattered? That it had been nothing but wasted breath? It was unbearable.
"Yeah, well" you said, turning your attention to your hiding place, which hid the last physical evidence of him, the last reminder that it really had been he and you, once upon a time. "He fucked all of us. At least he didn't force me to go to the Underworld. Kinda hope I don't have to see that place 'til I'm actually dead." It had made you so incredibly angry, once you realized what it was he had actually done. How he so recklessly put Annabeth in danger, of all people. She was his family. If he cared so little about her, how did he feel about you? Was it really all an act? It couldn't have been, could it have? You weren't sure you would ever survive knowing it was.
It was her turn to look at you curiously, as if after all this time, she still couldn't quite make up her mind about you. You had just arrived for your second summer at camp when Grover stumbled in with Annabeth and him. All the girls were instantly obsessed with him. You remembered Silena practically slobbering all over him, and some other girls turning to mush every time he so much as looked at them. And, sure, you'd be lying if you said that you didn't find him incredibly handsome and charming, but it had always been more than that for you. More than anything, you had enjoyed his company. You had loved listening to him tell you about their journey before making it to camp, about how he had found Thalia and then Annabeth, about everything they had to fight through to make it here. In turn, he would ask you about silly things from your every day life during the school year—what classes you took, what the names of your friends back at home were, what it was that you wanted to be one day—you had never been sure. Back when you didn't know that you were a demigod, your life had seemed so full of endless possibilities. You had wanted to become a doctor, or open a bakery, and at one point you had even considered joining a circus, although that dream died down rather quickly after your parents sent you to clown-school, since your fear of falling kind of ruled out you ever being able to do anything else. But ever since you found out who you really were, and that living long enough to graduate high school would be a miracle in itself, all of those dreams and aspirations kind of seemed pointless. That was, of course, until he became more than just a boy you talked the night away with during summer camp.
It had taken you two whole years until you were able to convince your parents to let you stay year round. The two of you hadn't been dating by then, not yet at least, but life had become more dangerous every day back home, and you were terrified of something happening to your family. Getting to see him every day was simply a very nice added bonus.
"I used to try so hard to hate you" Annabeth finally said after a while.
You couldn't help but laugh at her bluntness. "Yeah, I kinda noticed. You did a terrific job of making it feel like you did, too." There was no malice behind your words. No matter what your relationship with Annabeth may have been like in the past, everything was different now.
"Yeah. Sorry about that" she said, scrunching her nose in embarassment. "It's just—I guess I was always scared you'd eventually take him away. That he'd choose you over me, as ridiculous as that sounds." She didn't look at you, but you could see a sad smile playing on her lips. "Guess I picked the wrong villain."
It broke your heart to see her like this. She was a kid. No one deserved to go through something like that, let alone at such a young age. You wished you could tell him, how—more than anything else—disappointed you were in him. That he could so easily discard of those who cared about him, especially after having had to live through it himself. How hypocritical it was to hate his father for the same thing he did to Annabeth.
Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a strong squeeze, trying to convey all the right words that you doubted you'd ever be able to find with that one simple gesture. "I can't tell you why he did what he did, Annabeth. I don't think I'll ever understand it myself. But, despite anything, I know that, at some point at least, he did really love you. The way he talked about you…" you drifted off, a warm smile on your lips despite the tears that were now freely streaming down both of your cheeks. "Promise me you won't allow him to close your heart off to anyone else. Don't give him that power, please."
Nodding her head, she gave your hand a squeeze back. "I promise" she said, and you could have wept and wept at seeing her like this, looking so small and fragile and finally young, like she should. And on top of that, just so, so sad.
But today was Christmas, and he had taken enough from both of you as it was. He didn't get to take this, too. You wouldn't let him.
So, you dried off her tears with the sleeve of your jumper, before doing the same with yours. Giving her a smile that might not have reached your eyes, but did come from the heart nonetheless, you stood up. "Come on" you said, holding out your hand to her. "The gingerbread-house competition is about to start, and I'm still in need of a partner, if you'll have me."
Things weren't okay, and you doubted they ever would be again, at least not in the same way they once were. But when Annabeth smiled back at you and took your hand, letting you pull her up and into your side, and gave you a warm "Yeah, I'd love that", okay seemed a lot less unobtainable than it did just a mere moment ago.
6:38 p.m.
It was an unspoken rule at camp that no one was to mention his name, ever, under any circumstances. Wether that rule only applied in your presence, you didn't know. All you knew was that, somehow, that rule had just been broken, and it took all the strength you could muster not to shut down and curl into a sobbing ball in front of everyone.
You had made your way to the food hall to get some dinner in before the bonfire, everything going somewhat according to plan for once. Apart from some personal setbacks here and there, Christmas was looking to be a success, something that rarely happened in previous years. Usually, at least one of the Stoll brothers managed to find a way to have one of their pranks backfire monstrously, and thus send you into a frenzy, only stopping short of killing them because he knew exactly how to calm you down. However, you suspected that the brothers knew how important it was for you to have everything go perfectly today, which is why they had sworn to you on the river Styx that they'd keep their antics to a very bare minimum, which they had.
Instead, it was him who nearly ruined everything. Again.
You were standing near the Christmas tree, handing out post-sacrifice candycanes for everyone, when it happened. Maybe, if today hadn't held as many memories as it did, you would have been able to brush it off. But things so very rarely seemed to go the way you would have preferred them to go lately, so why should this have been any different?
You had almost missed it, at first. You would have, too, had it not been for the collective gasp of absolutely everyone who was within earshot, followed by absolute silence in the entire hall, only broken by something that sounded very much like a growl from Clarisse.
If things had been different—if you had been different, not the broken shell of a person that you barely had enough strength to be these days—you might have laughed it off. Past-you would have, a cheeky response always on hand. Now, all you did was go very still, as if even breathing too loudly might have broken the very thin dam you had managed to put up between you and your feelings for the sake of the semblance of a merry Christmas celebration.
It hadn't even been particularly bad, the mention of his name. Just one of the smaller kids, blurting out to their sibling "I wish Luke were here, dressed as Santa", which he had every right to do because, realistically, it had always been the most fun part of Christmas at camp.
Every year, you had forced him to dress up as Santa Clause, while you had put on an elf costume, handing out candy canes together after dinner. Some of the smaller kids loved to have their picture taken with him, putting their heads on his round, stuffed belly, and letting his fake beard tickle their cheeks. It was pure, giddy, and heartwarming fun, something to mask the pain of not being able to spend Christmas with their families, and it was the undisputed highlight of every celebration. You had considered continuing the tradition, asking Charlie or one of the other older boys to put his costume on, but ultimately the thought of having someone replace him had been too much to bear. So, you had decided to let the dressing up be just another ghost of Christmases past, and hand out the sugary confectionary by yourself, the way you had done everything else this time around. And as hard as you had tried to have that be enough, you couldn't blame anyone for noticing that it definitely wasn't, and never would be.
It took everything you had not to throw the bowl of candy on the floor and just run, as far away as your legs would carry you, just go, go, go, leave it all behind, the way you longed to. No place in the world carried as many memories of him as camp did, and no amount of pretending otherwise would ever make it easier. Yes, this was the place you had made your happiest and most favorite memories at—but all of them involved him, first and foremost. Every nook and cranny of this place was filled with his ghost, and no matter how much you tried, it was impossible to escape being haunted.
"Yeah" you croaked out, after what felt like an eternity of everyone collectively holding their breath. "Yeah, me too" was all you had the power to say. You tried to smile, but you didn't even have to look into a mirror to know that whatever it was your face was showing could be described as a pained expression at most. It didn't matter though. You were still standing, despite it all. And even though it might not be enough to face tomorrow, it was enough to at least get through today. It had to be.
9:15 p.m.
The bonfire had always been your favorite part of Christmas. It was generally your favorite tradition at camp, but there was something especially magical about it during Christmas, when there was snow all around you, fat frosted flakes landing on noses tinged red due to the cold, scarves being shared and mittens borrowed. You would spend hours upon hours exchanging stories of fond holiday memories, drinking spiked eggnog and yelling at the Stolls to stop handing it out to those under fourteen, at least, and burning your tongue on fresh s'mores. It was, to put it lightly, the most perfect and harmonious image your mind could possibly come up with.
Today, you couldn't wish for it all to end sooner.
As much as it warmed your heart to see everyone so at peace for once, it hurt even more to know that you'd never, ever get to experience this with him by your side again. You would never sit under a blanket with him again, with his much-too-big gloves on your hands, because you refused to get your own, knowing how much he loved putting his on you. You would never get to sneak off with him again once everyone started to grow tired and head to bed, claiming to get a headstart on cleaning up when in reality you would finish the remaining booze you still had on you, exchanging both gifts and kisses until the first rays of sunshine started to shine through.
Christmas Eve was the one day of the year on which Chiron didn't let the harpy out, allowing for everyone to soak up the festivities for however long they wanted to, and you and him were never ones to pass up on an opportunity like that. Now, it seemed like the most dreadful kind of punishment, to have to sit around and listen to everyone sing horribly off-key carols and debate wether it was blasphemous or not to be celebrating a Christian holiday as greek demigods.
Someone handed you a mug, and you didn't even turn around to check who it was, mumbling a quick "thank you" before tuning the rest of the world out once again.
"It's okay to miss him. We do, too." The words had hit you like a freight train, and you nearly broke your neck turning to see who had spoken them. It had been Connor—or maybe it had been Travis, you really hadn't been paying attention and both of them were standing next to you now, adorned in matching grotesque Christmas jumpers. They had been a gift from you, last year, for no other reason than because you had seen them and instantly thought of the pair. The Stoll brothers have had a very special place in your heart from the very beginning, your love for them only deepening because of their connection to him. It hurt, sometimes, to look at them now, knowing you might never get to look at him ever again.
"We just wanted to say thank you" Travis said, and you knew now that the other words had been spoken by Connor earlier. They both looked at you with a softness you so very rarely saw from them. "We know it couldn't have been easy to do all this, but we're grateful you did. It's nice to know not everything's changed." It took you a moment to see it, but once you did, it was nearly impossible not to. They looked sad, both of them, so incredibly sad, and it nearly tore you in two. The Stolls were two of the happiest and most carefree people you ever had the pleasure of meeting, and it made you so goddamn angry to know that it was their own brother who was responsible for that stupid smirk being wiped from their facec and being replaced with a look of grief and loss.
You didn't know what to say, so you just pulled both of them in for a hug instead. It was awkward, your threeway hug, but neither of you seemed to care, nearly squeezing the life out of each other due to the sheer force of holding on to one another. You weren't sure how long you stayed that way, but it surely felt like an eternity until you finally broke away.
Giving them a watery smile and an adoring ruffling of their hair, you realized that today was not about him after all—that, maybe, it never had been. Today was about them, all of them, the kids you grew up with and the kids you would never get to see grow up, the ones who, when the time came, you would fight side by side with, the ones that were still homesick, and the ones that never even had a home to miss. Today was about giving them the one thing they all deserved, the one thing he had turned his back on without so much as a glance back. Today was about family, and despite everything else, you were just so incredibly lucky to get to have them be yours.
10:32 p.m.
You had decided to get a headstart on cleanup, for real, considering that it was just you this year. You didn't mind, though. As much as you appreciated seeing everyone in such a happy and festive mood, it was beyond exhausting to keep pretending that you felt it, too, and you were just so damn tired of pretending.
The dining pavillon was eerily quiet, the way it had been the night before, but you could still very faintly hear the screams and laughter from the bonfire if you concentrated hard enough. It was nice to hear everyone else having a good time. It made you feel as if there were still some people out there that you hadn't completely failed.
"You know you don't have to do any of this today." Chirons voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you nearly dropped a carton full of tiny Christmas trees.
"You scared me" you said, putting the box down gently before grabbing another one and moving on to the next table.
Chiron joined you and started passing you the decorations, while you carefully covered them in bubble wrap before placing them in the carton. "This can wait until tomorrow" he tried again. "And I'm sure all of them would be more than just willing to help." He was right, of course. All throughout December kids had come up to you, offering their help in preparing for today's celebration. You told all of them the same thing, though.
"I don't mind doing it" you told Chiron now, echoing the statement you had made countless of times in the past few weeks. And it was true, too. You really didn't mind it, not one bit. It was your idea, after all. You still remembered how you had begged both Chiron and Mr D to let you decorate camp for Christmas for the very first time, all those long years ago. Both of them had been reluctant back then, and had only relented after you had sworn on the river Styx that you would take care of absolutely everything by yourself, from start to finish, and that they wouldn't have to lift a single finger. You had never broken your promise, only roping him into it because it allowed you two to spend more time together, which he never argued against.
"I know you don't" Chiron answered, carefully handing you a snowman figurine. "That doesn't mean you have to do it all by yourself."
You knew he meant well—he always did. Chiron had become somewhat of an extended father figure to you, the person you knew you could come to for just about anything. This, however, was not something you could talk to anyone about, not even him.
"No, but I don't mind it" you repeated, trying your hardest not to let any emotions bleed through. "It's easier this way."
Both of you knew that you weren't really talking about the cleanup anymore, that this was about so much more. It scared you, how much his betrayal had changed you. Most days, you wondered if you would ever be able to trust anyone again. Maybe, was the conclusion you usually came to. But did you really want to? This, you still had no answer for.
Chiron turned to you at this, a sad look on his face. Gods were you tired of everyone looking at you like that. "You shouldn't have to carry the burden of his choices. You did nothing wrong."
"Except what if I did?" The words escaped you faster than you realized yourself, but once you had said them, there was no going back. "What if I failed him? What if—what if I didn't love him enough?" It was the first time you allowed yourself to speak your deepest and darkest fear out loud, and it shocked you just as much as it did Chiron.
"You must know that that's not true. You—"
"You don't know that it's not. None of us do, because none of us actually know him. I thought I did, and I'm sure you did, too, but none of us saw it coming, did we? But had we truly known him, we would have. So we don't know. We don't know why he did it, and we don't know if we should blame ourselves or not. All I know is that it would have hurt less to not have had loved him at all than wonder wether he believed I didn't love him enough to not make this feel like the only way out." Tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now, and you were honestly growing tired of the amount of crying you had done today. It was supposed to be a cheery and merry time, not a devastatingly depressive one.
Before Chiron could say anything else, you lifted your hand up to stop him. "I know you only mean well, Chiron, but I can't… not tonight, okay? I can't hear any of it."
And with that you turned your attention back to the decorations, not daring to look up from the box in front of you until you heard the careful clacking of hooves against the marble get fainter and fainter. It was only once you were certain that you were, once again, engulfed in nothing but silence that you allowed yourself to finally fall apart.
11:04 p.m.
Your breakdown had lasted longer than you would have liked, and there was still a lot of cleaning up to be done, but at least you had managed to remove the decorations from the tables.
Even though there was still more than enough to be packed away, there was something else that you had to take care of, first. It was stupid, really, but it had been nagging at you the entire day. Part of you wished you would just let it go, but it was killing you, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to go on if you didn't take care of it now.
So you made your way to the lake, catching glimpses of everyone else still around the bonfire, the older kids drunker than they had been when you left them, but all of them still in a very celebratory mood. Good, you thought. They deserve to escape reality, even if it's just for today.
Once you had reached the lake, you took the thing out of your pocket that had been burning a hole in it the entire day. You hadn't even realized you were carrying it, at first, but once you had, the thought of using it hadn't left your mind for one second. It was absolutely ridiculous, you knew that, but so was just about anything and everything in your life right now. Surely, this was no different?
"You know what's funny?" There was no one there but you and the frozen over lake in front of you, alone in the pitch black of the night. "I just told Chiron that I worried that maybe… maybe all of this was because you didn't think that I loved you enough. And it's true, you know? I do worry that might be the case." A shudder ran down your spine, and you pulled your hat further over your ears, wishing you could simply put it over your entire being and just disappear. "But I just know that if you had been there to hear me say it, you immediately would have jumped in to tell me that it wasn't true, that none of this was in any way or shape my fault and I'd believe you, because I do love you enough. We both know I do, and that's what scares me. That I could love you with all that I have and all that I am, and still have it not be enough for you."
You looked up at the stars before closing your eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling again. "It's so much easier to blame myself than you, which is stupid, because you're the one who fucked us all over. Not me. I'm the one trying to hold the pieces together, while you're doing who knows what, with who knows whom. I had to stay behind and try my hardest to clean your mess up, all the while trying and failing to keep myself from falling off the deep end, while you got to leave." There was no point in keeping it in anymore, so you just let the sob that had been clawing at your throat since this morning go, not even trying to muffle it. There was no one here you had to pretend in front of—just you and the dark. "You just left."
You fell down on your knees, sobs wrecking your body and the snow melting into your jeans, but you couldn't care less. For months you had kept it all bottled up, all the things you had wanted to tell him, the questions you had wanted to ask, the small ways in which you wished you could punish him. All of it had to come out today, one way or another, lest it ended up consuming you whole.
"I tried so hard to make you see the good, you know? I know how hard it was for you, and I tried to make it easier, but did you ever stop to think that it was hard for all of us? That you weren't the only one suffering? That you were luckier than most because at least you were alive, and you had people who loved you, more than they ever loved themselves—people who still love you, despite all the shit you put them through. Did you ever stop to think about how lucky you truly were? How there were people out there who would kill to have what you had? Or did you know and simply not care? Was it just not enough for you, to have me, to have a place you could call home, people you could call family? Did you really need this, whatever it is, more than what you already had?"
You had spent hours upon hours asking yourself these questions, and even though there was still no one to answer them, it felt good to have them addressed to someone other than yourself for once. Even if you would never get a response, at least it wasn't up to you to find an answer anymore. Maybe, some day, you'd get to scream these words in his face instead of the void. But for tonight, this would have to do.
"Do you know what the worst part of it all is?" You had somewhat calmed down, your sobs turning into soft hiccups instead. You wiped the snot from your face with your sweater sleeve, not caring how disgusting it was. As if that was any sort of problem worth having right now. "Despite it all—despite everything you did, I still wish you were here. I wish you'd be here to help me pack the decorations away, and carry them down to the cellar, because you know how much I hate going down there. And I wish you were here with me to keep Lee from getting too drunk, and to make sure that Katie didn't purposefully spill any hot cider down Travis' pants. And most of all, I wish you were here to hold me and kiss me and wish me a Merry Christmas because you know that it was always my favorite when it came from you, because you're the only person in this world who truly knows how much it actually means to me."
You took a deep breath in, looking at the little round item in your palm. "But you're not" you whispered brokenly, closing your first and holding it against your heart. "You're not here, because you chose to become someone I don't know, someone I'm not sure I'll ever even want to know. Whatever it is that made you this way—whatever happened that made you so angry, I'm sorry you felt as if you couldn't talk to me about it. Maybe it's better you didn't. Maybe it's better for me to know that I didn't fail in convincing you otherwise, because you never even gave me the chance. Maybe this was your gift to me, after all."
11:59 p.m.
You had sat silently in the cold for a while, your toes and fingers going numb, your teeth clattering against each other. It's time, you told yourself. You had to move on with your life, wether you wanted to or not.
So, you got up, and finally threw the drachmea you had been holding in your hand all this time onto the icy surface of the lake. Tomorrow, it would be unfrozen again, and the coin would disappear in the depth of the water. Tomorrow, you'd be forced to take another step further away from him. Maybe the idea of that would hurt a little less tomorrow.
"Merry Christmas, Luke" you whispered hoarsely, closing your eyes one last time before taking a final, deep breath and making your way back to the dining pavillon.
Christmas had come and gone, and even though Luke hadn't called you, you hadn't called him either, no matter how much you had wanted to. It wasn't much, but somehow, it felt like the most magical miracle you could ever have wished for.
