Chapter Text
the third christmas
age 15 & 17
December held a very special place in Belly Conklin’s heart.
When she was younger, she used to count down the days to summer. She loved the freedom she had between the months of June and August. Without any school, it felt like everyday was a challenge to try something new and exciting. The days were longer and brighter, and she soaked it all in. She loved summer.
That was until the Fishers moved across the street on a winter day in December.
Belly’s parents divorced when she was ten and the holidays hadn’t been the same since. Her friend, Taylor, told her it was fun having divorced parents during the holidays because it meant twice the amount of gifts, but Belly didn’t like it. It felt wrong, splitting up their days instead of spending it together. It felt like the magic had gone.
On a dark, cold December evening, Susannah Fisher came knocking on their door, asking if they had any spare Christmas lights because the movers had lost some of their boxes. It was a Christmas emergency, she said.
Susannah’s spell was undeniable. She called Belly “angel” the first time she laid eyes on her— “who’s this beautiful angel?” she said—and Belly remembered feeling so charmed and happy by the compliment simply because her words sounded sweet like honey.
She knew it was fate that Susannah knocked on their door that day because of how instantaneously her mother, Laurel, took a liking towards her. They had spoken for hours. She knew when her mother entered the living room later that night with a rare faint glow on her face and told Belly and Steven, her brother, that she invited their new neighbours over for dinner, that something magical was happening.
It was unlike her mother to do that. Since their father moved across town, it had just been the three of them.
That was why Belly believed Susannah was magic.
It wasn’t long until the Conklins were introduced to the entire Fisher family. Adam, Susannah’s husband, and her two sons, Conrad and Jeremiah.
Jeremiah seemed like the kind of person who got along with everyone. He was bubbly and loud.
Conrad was the eldest, and he was much quieter. He wore a cap and glasses—like she did. Belly was so busy admiring how tall he was, it hadn’t even occurred to her he would notice her. But he did. And she remembered how he smiled at her and endearingly, sweetly, said, “I like your glasses.”
She was a goner.
Belly fell in love for the first time in December.
She guessed it was the most natural thing in the world for her first heartbreak to be in December as well.
In the first few years of knowing Conrad Fisher, Belly wasn’t sure how she’d define their friendship. Mostly because she hardly understood it herself. She knew why she was drawn to him. He was smart, and not just book smart like her brother—Conrad was clever. He seemed unapproachable until he smiled at you, until you realized that he’s actually soft-spoken and kind. He had a strong wit and was incredibly loyal to the people he cared about. He was also extremely gorgeous.
Belly had no idea what had drew him to her.
She tried not to dwell on it, because of the other thing, which was that Conrad Fisher was an amazing friend. He was always the first person to tell her happy birthday, exactly at midnight. He helped her with her homework without being condescending. He would buy her things at the most random times because he thought she would like it or remembered she talked about wanting it. He listened. He listened to her, sometimes for hours, talk about anything on her mind, and did so happily.
Conrad, her best friend, who was always available especially for her—which Steven loathed—and even sat through her favourite rom-coms whenever she asked, even though he claimed they were all cheesy and unrealistic and that sci-fi was the better genre.
He made it so easy to fall in love with him.
Belly knew better than to expect… more. She knew better than to expect something crazy, like Conrad feeling the same way she did. She wasn’t blind. She knew he loved her. But he wasn’t in love with her.
Conrad was the most straightforward person she knew. If he felt it, he would’ve said something.
And as much as she loved him, she loved their friendship just as much.
It got easier, by the third year, to bury it.
She would’ve sworn she was getting good at it too.
_________
Belly had only known the Fishers for three years and it felt like they’d been apart of her for longer. She didn’t know how their lives became so intertwined. Time had become split between before them and after them. She knew how rare that feeling could be, and she wanted to hold onto it; never dare to forget it.
When Susannah passed away suddenly early in the year, it had shaken all of them.
The first Christmas without her was still and quiet.
From the window in her living room, she saw Conrad sitting alone on her front lawn. His head was hanging low, his hair covering his face. It had become a tradition of sorts, to find each other on Christmas Day.
It started the first Christmas they’d known each other. Unintentionally, on Belly’s part.
Conrad had found her.
Belly got into a fight with her mom over something petty and childish that made her dramatically walk out the house, jacket-less, and into the cold. She didn’t want to admit defeat too quickly, so she stayed outside to prove a point; her arms crossed and shivering as she pouted in frustration.
Conrad had found her like that. They’d barely spoken at all at that point. All he did was compliment her glasses and smiled at her a few times.
But he came anyway from across the street, for some reason, to hand her a jacket and sit next to her.
She never asked him why.
He simply gave her a jacket and she was done for good.
Conrad initiated this gravitational pull between them, the first to resist themself to it.
They kept meeting each other every year, longing for a moment of quiet meant for just the two of them. It was beginning to feel like it wasn’t really Christmas until she saw him that day. Until they sat and talked (or not talk—they were good at not talking without it being weird), until he made her laugh and she made him smile.
It didn’t matter how cold it was outside, Conrad made Belly feel warm.
And there he was, seeking her out three years later, looking so sad and alone under the Christmas lights outside that it made her heart ache. Belly felt desperate to help him, but she didn’t know how. She knew whatever she said or did wouldn’t be enough.
Belly knew she had to try, though. She shot up from the couch and rushed to the kitchen, determined. She quietly moved around to make some hot cocoa in her matching Santa mugs, topped with marshmallows, whipped cream, and cocoa powder. Once they were ready, she stepped outside to meet him.
“Hey,” Belly said softly. Conrad looked up at her lifelessly, his eyes subdued. “I brought you some cocoa.”
“Thanks, Iz,” he replied solemnly, making a little space for her to sit next to him. She imagined they probably looked silly like this, sitting on the front lawn in the snow surrounded by an inflatable snowman and a gingerbread house with worker elves.
“Spending some time with your friends?” she lightly teased.
Conrad smiled weakly and nodded. She took that as a sign he didn’t feel like talking. She wordlessly placed his mug in his hands. They didn’t speak until she was halfway through her cocoa, when Conrad broke the silence.
“I hate him,” he whispered, vehemently.
No one was prepared when they found out how sick Susannah was at the beginning of the year. Conrad had changed overnight. He was quiet and sullen, and he seemed so far away, even when he was sitting right next to her. He quit the football team. He cut off most of his friends. He even decided on a whim that he was going to study medicine, neglecting all the guaranteed football offers he was going to get, against his father’s wishes.
She knew underneath the anger and the pain he was still Conrad, though. Because the way he treated her remained the same through it all.
Belly frowned, “Did you fight again?”
Conrad nodded his head, looking down at his hot drink. “He wants to move.”
“What?”
“He says living here is too hard for him,” Conrad muttered, then scoffed bitterly. “As if he has any right saying shit like that.”
Belly shifted her body closer to him, causing Conrad to finally look at her. He eyed her red pyjamas. In a much clearer voice, he asked, “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?”
“That’s not important right now,” Belly rolled her eyes. She suddenly remembered the candy she had buried in her pocket. “Oh! Do you want a candy cane?”
“You brought candy canes and not a jacket?”
She ignored him, taking it out. “You want it or not, Fisher?”
Conrad silently opened his hand, and Belly smiled as she gave it to him to unwrap. He looked thoughtfully at the snow beneath their feet as he sucked on the peppermint candy. Belly followed his eyes. “He cheated on her,” he said after a long time. “He cheated on her while she was sick. While she was… dying.”
Belly felt her heart drop. She hadn’t been expecting that. “How did you find out?”
“I came home early one day and heard them fighting about it. She was crying so loudly,” his voice hitched. “I’ve never heard her cry like that.”
“How long have you known?”
“For months,” Conrad said tiredly. “I never said anything because I didn’t know how to handle it. I mean, I wish I didn’t know to begin with.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that alone,” Belly said, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze. “I wish you told me.”
He turned his head towards her, his lips pursed. “I wanted to, but it was just so fucking bad.”
“Does Jere know?”
Conrad sighed again. He broke the candy cane in half and gave her a piece.
“He does now,” he said regrettably. “Hence the fight.”
They finished the rest of their cocoa in silence.
Conrad knocked their knees together, grabbing her attention. “Did you have a good Christmas?”
Belly smiled. “I did.”
“Like my gift?” Conrad smiled lazily, the first real smile he’d given her for the day.
Belly groaned. Every year, Conrad got her something ridiculous for Christmas. This year was an axolotl plushie because she mentioned she was obsessed with them when she was younger and he for some reason found that hilarious.
“You’re not funny, by the way,” Belly said. Conrad softly chuckled at her words. “You’re actually really annoying,” she insisted.
“You love me,” he teased.
“I really don’t.”
“I think you really do,” Conrad smirked, in a voice that was low and deep, and she used to dream of him speaking to her like that in a non-platonic way.
Belly shivered from the cold, resting down her empty mug. Conrad made an unpleasant noise before shrugging off his jacket. She curled her lips at the sight of him wearing an old Christmas sweater from years ago; tight on his biceps and too short for his arms.
“This is stupid, we shouldn’t even be out here,” he scolded, but draped his jacket over both of them anyway. Belly giggled to herself and Conrad leaned closer so they both were covered.
“You came out here, begging to be found,” she poked fun at him.
It should’ve been weird, the two of them being close like that, soaking up each other’s warmth. But it wasn’t.
Belly could feel Conrad watching her, his eyes studying her face to memory.
She focused steadily on her breathing. A few cars drove by and she wondered if they were seen, what they thought of the two kids nestled closely under a single jacket in the snow on Christmas evening.
Belly looked at Conrad. She was not surprised to see him watching her—she was used to that—but it nearly took her breath away to see how deep his gaze was. So deep it made her want to spill her guts. So deep it made her want to open her mouth and tell him she loves him.
But he beats her to it.
He didn’t know what he’d say next would break her. How could he?
“I never want to fall in love,” Conrad said in a hushed tone, looking at her with eyes that had melted away all the sadness and anger and grief just so she could rest comfortably in their softness.
Belly’s heart nearly split in two. It was the way he said it; the finality of it.
“What do you mean?” Belly asked, goosebumps forming all over her in the midst of his warmth.
“I don’t want to,” he explained, as if it could be that simple. “All love does is hurt people.”
She observed him curiously, trying to find the right words. She eventually found them, “I don’t buy that.”
Conrad raised his eyebrow at her, waiting for her to elaborate.
Belly continued, “I think one day you’ll meet someone who will change your mind.”
He had the nerve to look amused. He smirked at her, “I forgot you’re such a romantic.”
“And you’re way too cynical,” Belly shook her head.
Conrad shrugged. The nerve. It was the one thing she still grappled with understanding about him—how he was sweet and gentle and so clearly capable of love yet pretended not to be.
He eyed her for a moment, the Christmas lights twinkling in his eyes. The warm fondness in his eyes seeped into her skin.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asked her softly.
Belly froze. She hadn’t expected him to ask her that. They rarely spoke about love and feelings, and now she knew why. It bothered her. Made her heart squeeze. It also made her unable to think clearly, because she muttered, “Yeah.”
“Oh,” he breathed. Conrad seemed surprised by her admission. “Really? Who?” he asked, leaning his arm over her chest to pull up the jacket falling off her left shoulder.
It didn’t help that she was so close to him. His face was angled towards hers, granting her his full attention, and Belly wondered how he couldn’t see it. She was sure everyone else knew.
“I’m not saying,” she said.
Conrad pinched his eyebrows, pausing for a moment. “Are you… still in love with this person?”
Belly cleared her throat, biting her bottom lip. She needed to take control of this conversation before it spiralled. “I think one day someone will warm your cold heart and you won’t even know what to do with yourself.”
Conrad shook his head, turning away from her to chuckle nervously. She watched him from the corner of her eyes, and nearly sighed—it really wasn’t fair how pretty he was. In the midst of her staring, Conrad caught her looking. He smiled at her again; softly, beguilingly.
Conrad took his jacket and fully draped it over Belly’s shoulders.
“I’ve already got you to do that,” he whispered. “I think I’m good.”