Work Text:
December 24, 2028
Among all the lively American Nights Zoey suggested over the years, there was one she never shared. And that, she thought, that was genuinely strange: her Christmas Eve, after all, carried a lot of peculiar stories. During her childhood, her grandmother laid out a dusty red-and-gold dinnerware, reserved for the cupboard except on that single day; crowned the table with tacky candelabras, the fake-luxury icon of the early 2000s, awkwardly adorned with tiny velvet bows; carved room for a massive spread of food, so perfectly and artificially arranged that it might have passed for the plaster dishes of a movie set; and, right in front of it, let the magic began. Her friends really deserved to experience said magic, and she believed that was just the perfect excuse to surprise them with another of her signature dinners.
Shooing everyone out of the living room turned out to be easier than expected. Someone disappeared into their bedroom with their controller in hand, hoping to find something brand new under the tree; someone took the chance to wander around the city, intertwining their fingers beneath a sky full of holiday lights; and someone decided that spending time in the fourth-floor sauna was a good idea, even at seven months pregnant. Within minutes, the living room was clear, and with a confident Hey Alexa, play Christmas music! the fun could officially start. The lively jingle of bells on the radio rapidly joined the energetic whisking of eggs, the rhythmic chopping of fruits and vegetables, the bubbling of hot water in more than one pot. Moving along with that rhythm, while every aroma mixed into something sweet and spicy, Zoey navigated the kitchen with effortless grace, shifting from one spot to another and humming along the very same songs she used to sing back in the day, on snowy evenings outside her neighbors' doors. And when she finally set the last dish down on the table, her heart swelled and her eyes shone: she had never made anything more beautiful, and she couldn't wait to show it to everyone.
"I'm ready, I'm letting go of the seal!"
Oh, if it hadn't been for the disguise, for that blessed survival kit which, despite consisting of nothing more than beanies* and face masks, always proved remarkably effective. Oh, if it hadn't been for it! They would have missed out on an unforgettable afternoon. In fact, it was the very first of the four Christmases Jinu celebrated again among the living in which all of his girlfriend's brilliant ideas converged on the ice rink, the best place to enhance the evacuation time they had been forced into for the entire afternoon. And the fact he couldn't skate didn't turn out to be the titanic challenge Rumi expected: that funny seal-shaped support became the savior of their day, earning Jinu an Alright then, follow me! before darting effortlessly from one corner to the other and spinning like a true vision of wonder. And his clumsy attempt to move by pushing the seal appeared to be appreciated by her smiling eyes: following her with it, he really did seem to be learning quickly, managing to weave through crowds of families, couples holding hands, children chasing one another, couples holding hands, lively groups of friends, couples holding hands, couples holding hands, couples holding hands. As he watched so many of them glide by, pride finally seemed to take over, and by the sixth couple appearing before his eyes, he realized he wanted to try it himself: "I'm letting go of the seal, I want to move on to the next level!"
Rumi giggled: "And what would the next level be? The edge?"
"No." Jinu smiled at her. And even though he was actually clinging to the edge, without saying anything, he quickly took her hand. Her blush seemed to show through beyond the mask fabric, and his initiative was strong enough to be pulled along with her across the whole rink, drifting here and there in a wonderful synchrony. Until a sudden stop on Rumi's part sent him heavily tumbling onto his backside. Her phone was buzzing in her pocket: Zoey.
"Hello?"
"Dinner is ready, come home!"
"It's ready?"
"Yes! It's ready! Move! Now! Right now! Immediately!"
Rumi chuckled, not surprised at all by her friend's impatience: "Alright… See you in a bit!"
"Who was it?" Jinu asked after the call, still sitting on the ice.
"Zoey." she replied, realizing that, despite his fast progress, Jinu still wouldn't be able to stand up without a hand pulling him.
"She said it's ready, it's time to go home!"
"But I was having fun…"
"Well… How about coming back tomorrow, then?"
While waiting and hoping to find the third chapter under the tree, Baby had wisely decided to hole up in his bedroom, followed by Mystery, and replay Dead Island 2 from the very beginning.
Knowing him, there was no reason to be surprised by his flawless mastery: even though he only got his hands on the game way after its release -for rather obvious reasons- he played and replayed it so many times that he knew every combination by heart. Yet Mystery, stretched out on the other side of the bed, was completely hypnotized. His long bangs were held up by an adorable candy-cane-shaped hair clip -obviously fished out of Zoey's drawer- and he really couldn't get the existence of such precision and agility: the way Baby moved through the infected, broke free from grabs, and finished enemies with brutal efficiency seemed almost unreal.
But unfortunately, as they say, nobody is perfect. And even an expert of Baby's caliber makes mistakes sometimes, especially when the aforementioned Zoey bursts into his room right in the middle of a man-versus-zombie fight, flinging the door open without warning and making him jolt so badly he jumped out of his skin.
"Dinner is ready! Hurry up!"
"Thanks a lot, genius!" Baby shouted. "I just got eaten by a zombie because of you!"
"Oh… I'm sorry… I hope it will go better next time. Now come on, it's time to eat! Move!"
"Next time? But you… Seriously… And why haven't you learned yet that you have to knock before com-" he tried to reply, but in vain. There was no trace of her anymore, only a door left wide open. Without even waiting for the boys' answer, she was already on the fourth floor with the same speed of a splinter shot through the air.
Over there, things felt pleasantly steamy. And, strangely enough, that time it was meant in the most literal sense: after persuading Mira to skip the sauna with great difficulty, the heated pool was laying an invisible curtain of relaxation over her and her boyfriends, sitting side by side with eyes closed, and lost in a kind of otherworldly peace. The girl, in particular, seemed to crave it more than anything else: with every passing month she felt slower and slower, more and more tired even in the smallest movements; and the gentle caress of the warm water couldn't not be welcomed with such bliss. It eased the tension in her mind, loosened the knots in her muscles, and… Sparked that familiar little flutter which, thanks to her soon-to-be-mom brain, she learned to recognize immediately: "Guys, [the baby*] is awake!"
That was the stage where every movement was perceivable, like a delightful surprise that repeated endlessly without ever losing its magic. And for Mira, that was undoubtedly the most beautiful part of her journey, the first hint of a connection she had never imagined she could feel.
Her boys, clearly, were no different: it didn't matter whose DNA their baby shared, both wanted to be known right away, creating the very same bond with [them*]. And when they tentatively placed a hand on Mira's belly, their eyes sparkled with a brightness that seemed almost alive.
"Hello, my little precious…" Romance whispered with tender strokes and a heart as full as the very first time he felt that tiny presence beneath his palm. "We haven't felt you in a while, have we?"
"Are you excited for Christmas too?" Abby chimed in, his smile as wide as the universe. "I hope so, because Mom and Dads got you the most wonderful presents! And all your uncles and aunts too! Everyone got you something! Oh, my baby… We're all so excited to meet you…" he said softly, first glancing at his hand, then at both of his partners, who smiled at him.
It all seemed almost sacred, a perfect portrait of intimacy and shared love painted in the softest shades of fondness.
"Guys, dinner is ready!"
And Zoey's entrance, chaotic as always, looked like a sudden stroke of neon right in the middle of that delicate canvas.
"Jesus Christ, Zoey!" Mira exclaimed, startled as much as her partners. "Don't ever do that again!"
"Oh my God, sorry!" her friend gasped, flying her hand to her mouth. "I always forget sudden shocks aren't good for the baby!"
The throuple stared at the girl, bewildered, as if she broke some spell in the most awkward way. "Well… Since we shouldn't cry over spilled milk… Hurry up, okay? Bye!"
In the living room, the atmosphere Zoey created was truly magical: the pointlike glow of the Christmas tree seemed to warm the table, its holly centerpieces, the champagne flutes and the eggnog glasses. Elegant white candles -tastefully reimagining the gaudy decorations of her childhood- added to the enchantment, their soft flames framing the majestic feast around them: creamy mashed potato casseroles; a platter of fluffy deviled eggs; bowls brimming with sauteed vegetables in a riot of colors; and a massive, glossy turkey resting on a bed of potatoes accompanied by three vibrant jellies -in strawberry, orange, and kiwi- shimmering like giant ornaments.
"Ladies and gentlemen, take your seats! The very special journey into my American Christmas is about to begin!" Zoey cheerfully smiled, spreading her arms towards the table and meeting her eyes with a roomful of stunned faces.
"Wow, this is incredible!" Mystery exclaimed louder than usual, hands closing around her shoulders as he leaned in, bumping his nose against hers and making her laugh with pride.
"Seriously, this is amazing!" Rumi chimed in, leaning closer to get a better look, especially at the jellies. "You've really outdone yourself!"
Even Baby's words were just as approving: "I take back every bit of my anger, brainiac. This table is insanely cool!"
"Yeah, I absolutely agree." Mira nodded, before noticing that, at her seat, sat a glass of homemade apple cider and a mug of hot chocolate instead of the drinks meant for everyone else. This made her smile widely, unconsciously placing a hand on her belly, before sitting down and starting her dinner. And once again, she was carried away by her friend's words, who -as always- had so much to say about it.
"Before we start... Relax. There's nothing dangerous about deviled eggs. They are hard-boiled, and the filling is perfectly safe for you too! I checked, baby!" Zoey winked at Mira with a grin, letting her reply with a nod of approval before picking one up. As soon as she took a bite, the flavor immediately captivated her: even a humble egg managed to turn into a true journey, sweetened by the airy creaminess of tuna and mayonnaise, which proved her to be wonderfully capable of pampering her taste buds, even more delightful by the curious words flowing from their creator's lips.
"Did you know these come from Ancient Rome? They were served to guests during banquets, where food was often accompanied by some pleasant entertainment! Just like I'm doing with you! Coincidences? I don't think so. Only, well… I have no idea how the ancient Romans entertained their guests, so… I'll do it my way! For example, I can tell you how these used to be my total favorite when I was little! My mom used to make them on Christmas Eve morning, and every now and then I'd steal a few before they could all make it safely to Grandma's house!"
That was a scene that repeated itself for many years: little Zoey often woke up to the sound of the blender humming in the background, still dazed from long sleeps spent hugging her giant plush turtle.
And that certainly wouldn't have been enough to get her out of bed, if her two siblings didn't literally drag her off it.
"Wake up, Zoey, it's snowing! It's snowing!"
"Chloe, Lucas… I'm sleepy…"
"No! It's snowing! Come play with us!"
How sweet her childhood mornings were. And when the garden was covered in snow, everything felt even more magical: the race down the stairs; her siblings' laughter; her mom at the kitchen counter, already wearing her apron and telling them to bundle up properly. Time would fly between cheerful snow angels, snowball fights that seemed a real war, and the creation of snowmen that grew taller every year, for which they explored every corner of the house in search of spare buttons, worn-out scarves, and the prettiest branches rescued from the white blanket their dad carefully shoveled away from the driveway.
"Good morning, Dad!"
"Hey kids, what are you doing out here in the yard?"
"A snowman!"
"A snowman? Really?"
"Yes! Will you make it with us?"
Spending time with Dad was truly wonderful. He was such a playful man, the kind who could drop everything just to spend time with his beloved children.
And he was an excellent snowman builder, how good he was! Every year it was just better, a chubby little white fellow that seemed to make the whole neighborhood jealous.
"…And now, do you know what's missing? The most important thing!"
"I know what's missing! The carrot!"
"Exactly, little turtle! The carrot! Let's help this poor Mr. Snowman breathe! I'll be right back, take good care of him before he melts!"
And while her siblings admired it, Zoey always followed her dad with her eyes, pressing her nose against the window to spy on what was happening in the living room between him and her mom, small gestures of affection that always made her dream. Maybe a stolen kiss by the stove, a hug from behind, or an unexpected compliment that never failed to draw a genuine laugh from her. And everything was terribly perfect: no one could ever have imagined that, within four years, things would fall apart completely.
"Zoey…? Sweetheart, are you okay?"
"Huh… What?"
"You suddenly stopped talking…"
The girl shook her head, her eyes widening. Everyone at the table was staring at her, as if waiting for an explanation for her behavior. And as she tried to piece together something coherent, like a bolt from the blue she burst into tears, leaving everyone utterly stunned.
"Oh God… Zoey, what's going on?"
The truth was that remembering those moments had only hurt her.
Because… Yes. That little eight-year-old girl never believed that, from one moment to the next, that idyll could broke into a million pieces with no way to ever put it back together. And she never wanted to believe it.
She didn't want to believe that, one day, that crazy but loving uncle of hers would tragically lose his life in an accident. She didn't want to believe that, to cope with such unbearable pain, her mother would seek refuge in alcohol. She absolutely did't want to believe that, basically overnight, Christmas would turn into a day of shouting, arguments, hours spent alone in her room crying over something that would never taste again as sweet as it once had. No more uncle's antics, no more light in her grandmother's eyes, no more parents in love… And before she could even realize it, no more Dad, either: what once were endless days spent playing and laughing with him turned into five minutes of video calls while he spent the holidays alone, on an entirely different continent.
"Maybe I shouldn't have made this dinner…" she sobbed, collapsing into Mystery's hug. "I shouldn't have done it… I'll never be able to restore the magic of my past… I don't have that family anymore, and I will never have it again…"
"Hey, Zoey, listen to me." Sitting beside her, Rumi took her by the shoulders, inviting her to look into her eyes. "If you don't feel like talking… Then don't. There's no need."
"But this… This was the whole point of my evenings… Bringing you into my old life, letting you get to know this part of me… But…" Zoey stopped, sniffing back tears. "I didn't think it could hurt me this much…"
"Then avoid it, right? I'll say it again. You're not forced to talk about it. We can talk about something else, something that makes you feel good, don't you think?"
"That's not the point, Rumi! I put so much effort into this dinner… I planned it for days, I poured my heart into every detail… And just as I should have expected, I ruined it with my own hands… I failed, once again…"
With that, Zoey hid her face once more against Mystery's chest, and began to cry again. And that time, it didn't go unnoticed.
"Oh, come on. You failed?" Baby asked, biting into a piece of turkey with a defiant look, as if he'd been personally offended. "I'm eating the best turkey of my entire life and you're saying you failed? You never cease to amaze me, you're a case study."
"I don't mean to be rude like this, but-"
"I'm not rude. I'm just incredibly realistic."
"I don't want to be whatever he is, then…" Jinu adjusted his sentence to shut him up and keep the peace. "But Baby is right. What does I failled even mean to you?"
"Well… Look at me… I'm never able to do things properly…"
"Do you really think a moment of weakness can erase everything good you've done?" Abby chimed in, followed by his boyfriend: "Exactly. You cooked an amazing dinner, a really delicious one, giving all the love you possibly could into it, and we felt that… And, speaking as your brother, if just one painful memory resurfacing is enough to make you feel like a failure, then something's off…"
Zoey turned her tear-filled eyes again towards the table: "It's not that, it's just… I mean, it feels so unfair… I'm trying to relive some memories, but the truth is that the happy and close family I celebrate so much… Well… I don't have it anymore…"
"Why don't we overwrite those memories, then?"
Mira's words felt almost revelatory, enough to slow the stream of tears and gradually turn sadness into cautious curiosity.
"…What do you mean?"
"Well… there's no need to point out that we all come from some pretty messed up situations. But the close family you're looking for? You have it. It's right here next to you. This is our fourth Christmas together, and I really mean it, these are truly the best Christmases of my life. I don't need to mourn what I lacked in the past, because these are the memories I want to create, the ones I want to live, with my only real family. Screw the past, Zoey. You said it yourself, crying over spilled milk is useless, you told me just hours ago, remember?"
"Yeah…"
"Great. Now you need to tell it yourself."
"Mira's right." Mystery added, stroking her back. "Three hundred years as a demon taught me how to find beauty in my suffering, and this is the perfect moment for you to start doing the same. Take this evening. Maybe it's not what you imagined, but who says it can't be the perfect excuse for a new beginning? You started a tradition among us. You took something you looked at with nostalgia, from a past that can't come back… But that can open the way to an even better future. What if this became our way of celebrating Christmas? Maybe next year we can all cook something together. We can talk, share, take something from your past and reinvent it until all it gives you are reasons to smile." he spoke gently, sketching a small smile. Mystery usually wasn't a talkative one, but when it mattered, he knew how to reach the deepest places, and Zoey loved that about him. So much so that she began to cry again the moment she held him a little tighter, and before she could even realize it, that turned into a group hug.
"I love you all so much, guys…"
"We love you too, brainiac."
"What would we do without our little sister?"
"I just felt [the baby*] move! See? [They*] love you too!"
"I can't believe [they*]'ll be here with us next year…"
"I can't believe it either, trust me... And, well. Starting with [them*], I can also tell you this: blood isn't what makes a family, it never has been. Sometimes it happens to align, and that's a great blessing. But sometimes it doesn't. And that's okay, Zoey. Don't chase a damaged memory, it leads nowhere. Instead, wipe those tears and start something that one day you won't need to recreate, because you'll already too busy repeating it."
So, she did.
She lifted their gaze again,wiped her tears and hugged them all again.
"Thank you, guys…"
"And… Anyway. If we really want to eat with some entertainment…" Mira resumed, pulling away from that endless hug. "I might have something that comes close to your idea of a silly little anecdote…"
"Really?"
"Yeah. It came to my mind while I was looking at the candles, and… Well, I was very little. Maybe six, honestly I don't remember. And I don't even remember if it was Christmas Eve, to be fair. But I was at a dinner with my family, probably some kind of formal event, and there was a table like this one, full of candles and food. And, well… You know I wasn't exactly the behaved child my parents wished for…"
"And apparently you're still not, sis!"
"Shut that sewer you call a mouth, Baby!"
"Never. It's way too fun to piss you off." he said proudly, tearing into another piece of turkey.
"Come on, let her talk!" Zoey scolded him. "She got me curious!"
Baby huffed: "Fine…"
"You were saying?"
"I know there's no octopus tentacles on this table, but there were on that one. Lots of them. And at some point, I went to get some. So many, and so greedily, that I accidentally knocked over a candle…"
"Oh my God. Don't tell me the table caught fire…"
"…The table caught fire."
For a moment, the room was frozen in disbelief.
Then, all at once, laughter exploded from the table, loud and unstoppable.
"I can't believe it!"
"See? All show and no skill. Sis, you're a total disaster."
"You have no idea how many slaps I got from my parents that night…" she tried to continue, vainly holding back her laugh. "How sweet, they still think I cut ties for no reason…"
"Well, since we're on the topic of parents and tragic stories…" Rumi wanted to have her say too, brushing away that sneaky tear that slipped out in the middle of the laughter. "Have I ever told you how I reacted when Celine told me Santa Claus wasn't real? Forget crying… I yelled at her and called her a traitor…"
"Oh, don't get me started on Santa Claus. I've got a similar one myself!"
Talking. Sharing. Taking something from the past and reinventing it until all that remains are reasons to smile. Without even realizing it, they were already doing it. And maybe the Christmas magic Zoey desperately wanted to reclaim wasn't in any deviled egg, nor in any candle, but in the laughter of a family. A real family, that, despite different blood, would always choose each other through every hardship.