This sort of happened when I started thinking about Phineas, girls, and Christmas, and then I came across his quote about returned love. I apologize for any errors that may come up, as well as the fact that he isn't Finny, he's Finn; sorry if it offends anyone. This was written some time ago (last Christmas actually), and it has taken me seven hours to actually get it on here.

Disclaimer: I do not own A Separate Peace.

I carefully place the last ornament on the tree and plug the lights in. Against the white backdrop of the snow out the window, it's postcard perfect. Or it would be, if it were just the picture. If I had said the same thing this time last year, it would have been.

"Wonderful, honey," my mother says. She places a hand on my shoulder, most likely finding something in me off. My father puts an arm around my waist and kisses my head.

I smile, and it must have looked real enough, because they leave me alone.

I look out the window again, back across the street. The porch light is on, once my invitation to make my way over. It was rare when I could visit, as school often kept us separated. But when I did, he was what made my stays home worthwhile.

"How about hot chocolate and ice cream," he pleaded.

"Finn, that's like an oxymoron for food," I answered. "Hot chocolate is warm, and ice cream is cold. What's the point in having both?"

"Because, Elisabeth," Finn replied, starting to walk around the kitchen island to where I was, "they are both delicious."

"No," I told him. Phineas came to stand in front of me, very close, and began to play with a strand of my blond hair.

"Come on. Don't be a downer."

I fingered a button on his shirt, pouting. "It's cold, though."

Phineas gave me an almost cheeky grin. "Alright, I'll make you hot chocolate, and you can make me ice cream, and then I can have some of your hot chocolate, and you can have some of my ice cream."

I couldn't help but laugh, rolling my eyes. "Finn…"

He knew he'd won and automatically went about getting the stuff ready.

He was always like that. Phineas could get what he wanted no matter what. He came up with the most absurd plans, but somehow, they always worked out. There were times when we should have been in trouble, deep trouble, but between the both of us, we got out of it.

"Delicious," he said, taking another bite of his vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup and sprinkles covering it. He scooped up another bite and offered it out to me. I opened my mouth, and Phineas popped it in.

He finished his ice cream faster than I finished my hot chocolate. The taste was much too—something. What, I couldn't put my finger on, but it didn't quite taste right. It looked like normal hot chocolate and smelled like normal; upon my first sip, I'd inspected it long enough to know.

Phineas put his bowl on the coffee table and settled back on the couch. Careful with my steaming mug, I made myself comfortable against his muscular chest.

"How's school," he asked. I laid my head against his shoulder.

Air flapped through my lips. "The same. What about you?"

"Same as always. Gene and I are roommates again."

"Oh." Gene again, I couldn't help but think. I decided not to let it get me down. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he agreed. "But I'm glad you came over."

"You know I have to." There was teasing in my voice, and he picked up on it.

"You say your school harps on tradition?" I raised my eyebrows and pursed my lips in answer. His grin grew. "Well, in that case, we wouldn't want to let tradition slip."

After that, we covered ourselves with one of his family's thick blankets. I was more than content to sit with him, the fire blazing. Eventually he began talking, and that led to his rambling. I loved when he rambled.

I think I should probably go over, at least to see his parents. Earlier I made a batch of cookies; I'm sure they would be grateful for the thought.

But that would mean facing a part of my past that I don't necessarily want to. Not yet at least.

I just barely made it home before curfew.

"I'm going to be late," I shouted, taking a peek at the clock above the mantle.

"Aw, come on, Lissie," Finn whined. He buried his face deeper in my hair and encircled his arms around me tighter. "I was almost asleep."

"I'm serious," I pressed. "I have to go."

Phineas thought for a moment before heaving himself up with a sigh. "Fine. I'll walk you over."

We went to the closet and bundled ourselves up in our winter clothing. Before I could open the door, Phineas took the blanket he was still holding and wrapped it back around me. Then he opened the door, and we made our way across the street to my house.

"Bye," he said, a bit uncharacteristically shy.

"Bye," I returned. I leaned in to hug him.

We stayed for that too long. Pulling away, I went to shrug the blanket off, but he stopped me. "I expect that back by tomorrow."

I smiled, realizing what he was saying, and covered myself back up in it. He grinned back, and I reached up to kiss his cheek.

"Night, Phineas," I said, calling him by his full name for one rare time.

"Goodnight, Elisabeth," he told me, and then I stepped inside and closed the door.

When I returned his blanket the next morning, he insisted on taking me sledding. It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

We spent the day outside, playing in the snow just as we had before we were old enough to be shipped off to school. The two of us went to a hill behind his house to sled. At one point, he managed to ride down on his feet. Almost.

We built a snowman, trying to see just how tall we could make it. For the head, I climbed on his shoulders, and he handed me the snowball. I had barely put it on before we toppled over backwards.

It took a moment for us to register what happened. Then he tilted his head back to look at me, waggling his eyebrows before I gasped, "Finn!" and backed away. From there we broke into laughter.

The rest of our Christmas break went well, and I was sad when we had to go back to school. I was home during the spring, though, in June.

It was a relatively nice spring that year, not even an inch of snow; it had, however, been quite rainy, which turned out to be good for the occasion. Our garden was wild with life, my mother's prized begonias blooming all over the place. The weather was mild that night, and there the largest crowd we'd ever had was milling about on our lawn. Though it was my birthday party, none of the guests were actually there for me, and despite the fact I had known this beforehand, it was still a disappointment to have come outside after spending two hours getting ready.

I'd made small talk with more people than I could count, it seemed. The party wasn't even half-way over, and I was plotting my escape to my room. I'd just begun to make a getaway when I turned on my heel and almost smacked into none other than Phineas. His wonderful smile graced his features, and I felt one on my own lips. "Finn!"

He was dressed in a bright pink polo shirt and charcoal pants. I fingered the material. "What are you wearing?"

"There was a massive pile in the store, in all different colors. I thought to myself, 'What color would Lissie choose?' and lo and behold my eyes landed on this. I decided I would wear it to your birthday party and match you."

I let out a laugh. True enough, my own tulle dress was pink; in defense, mine was much kinder to the eyes than his.

"Why aren't you in school?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I wouldn't miss your sixteenth birthday," he answered, as if it were obvious. "Besides, it's Saturday. I have all day tomorrow to get back."

"You're going to get in trouble." No, Phineas never got in trouble. He brushed my comment off.

"And now," he declared, taking my hand, "I demand to see those dancing skills that have been impressed upon you by the school you so adamantly loathe."

With that, he led me out to the dance floor and began my favorite, a Viennese waltz. It may not have been the most appropriate for the occasion, but I didn't care. I was happy to finally be enjoying my party with someone I actually enjoyed being around. At one point, my mother appeared with her camera, and we paused briefly in mid-dance to pose for a picture before resuming our quickstep.

Later that night, when only a few guests, mainly those that lived close proximity, remained, we sat down on the edge of my fountain. A question I had been struggling with for a while played on my tongue. He saw it in my expression. "What's wrong?"

"Why are you doing this?" It slipped out before I could catch myself, and I immediately regretted it. He'd left school to come celebrate my birthday, wearing a shirt in my favorite, albeit ungodly, color, giving me undivided attention for the entire night, and this was how I was going to repay him?

"Well, when you love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love, and since I love you, and I didn't know what else to offer—or at least what to offer that you'd like—I figured this was what I could do."

I didn't know what to say. Did I love him? I didn't think he meant it as in the couple love, and I was almost certain I didn't love him that way. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but smile and feel my stomach flip, for what sixteen-year-old girl wouldn't if a beautiful boy said he loved her?

My happiness lasted throughout the night and much into the next day.

I glance over at the mantle. Our picture is there, the moment permanently frozen in time. It was a late birthday gift to me to have it printed in color, and I must say that it is quite good. The pink of his shirt is almost blinding and makes my dress pale in comparison. I had actually taken it to school with me, and the girls I associated with back at Henley had giggled and asked me about it unrelentingly; the only other girl who had a picture with a boy was Maria, and that was of her brother.

It was a wonderful summer that year, and I remember thinking it would last forever. If someone had told me what the next summer held in store, I wouldn't have believed them.

"What happened," I practically yelled when I saw him. My hands were on my hips, and I glowered down at him, Phineas, my neighbor, my friend, the wonderful boy I'd grown up with.

"I fell out of a tree—"

"Of course you did," I scolded. This was just like him. Sometimes he was too…wild. He was too Phineas.

It was pitiful, seeing him propped up on the living room couch. His leg was in a cast, and he didn't look quite right. He looked paler, much too pale for how he usually looked in summer. My brief anger subsided into pity.

"Phineas," I groaned. I gingerly took a seat next to him and put my arms around his neck. Giving his forehead a quick kiss, I tucked my legs under me. I internally gathered my patience and tried again, this time softer. "What happened?"

After Phineas had told me his story, I was certain I knew what had really happened. Again, my anger swelled, but again, I pushed it down. Anger is an unflattering characteristic on anyone.

"Come back with me." I pushed his hair off his face. "Leave Devon and come to Vermont."

Phineas scoffed. I didn't remember him every doing that, and it had frightened me even more. "What have you said about that school?"

"Henley really isn't that bad. Plus you aren't there." I winked, but he shook his head, even though I could see amusement creeping onto his face.

"But you go to a school for girls, and I'm a boy," he argued, then added, "silly."

I giggled. "The boys' school isn't far. We could go into town on the weekends. Maybe even after school. And you could call me whenever you wanted."

"My parents wouldn't go for it. You know that, Lissie."

"Maybe not if you asked. If I asked, on the other hand, maybe it would be different."

"Yeah, maybe if Little Miss Perfect asked, they would."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that."

"Why? It's true." He stuck a finger up one of my corkscrew curls. "You're Little Miss Perfect Student, Little Miss Perfect Daughter, Little Miss Good Looks."

"You think I'm pretty?" I asked. It was the first time he ever would have said anything about my looks, other than saying I had "Shirley Temple hair."

"Yeah. You have nice eyes. Not many people have green. And you have a pretty smile. And soft hair. And I like your name...or, actually, your grandmother's name."

It didn't register at first that he remembered I'd been named after my grandmother. I waited a moment, letting his word sink in, before saying, "Please come to Vermont."

"Lis. You know I can't."

"But I want you to." And that was the end of the conversation.

"Elisabeth," my mother calls, drawing me from my cold musings; I didn't even know I had been leaning against the cold window. I snap my head around to find her in the kitchen doorway. "Dinner's ready."

"Oh. I'm not hungry," I answer. She scowls but leaves me be.

I saw Phineas only two more times after that. The first was on a break from school, but the second was on my own doings.

My mother had called me one day at school, just when my last class let out. She said, over lunch with his mother earlier that day, that Phineas had broken his leg again and was going to have an operation to set it. I immediately went to the headmistress, bringing out the waterworks, and told her that an emergency had come up and I was expected in New Hampshire. I was on the train before dinner, and it pulled into the station at almost nine that night. What little money I had, I used it to take a cab to the school.

I was finally admitted to the infirmary a little after ten. The doctor didn't want to, but I'd said Phineas was my cousin whom I'd grown up with, and when he still wouldn't let me in, I'd started crying again. The doctor let me pass.

Phineas didn't look up when I opened the door. But when he heard the click of my heels and my quiet "Finn," he gazed over and did a double take.

"So this is the Devon School?" He tried to grin, but it didn't work. I gently pushed his hair. "How do you feel?"

"They've got me on painkillers," he explained. I gave him a sympathetic half smile. "Can't feel a thing. What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were hurt, so I came over. Neither of our families know. At least, I didn't tell them."

"Well, look at you. Skipping school just to see me. I'm flattered."

"As you should be," I joked back, glad he was showing a little of his real self. I knelt down beside him. "How did it happen?"

"Fell down the stairs. It was some meeting on how I broke it the past time. I didn't want to hear it, so I left. They're going to operate tomorrow."

"I'm sorry to hear it. If they have you on so many painkillers, would it hurt if I lay beside you?"

Finn shook his head and made to scoot over, but I stopped him. "I can fit."

So I laid down next to him, my head on his strong chest, and closed my eyes. "Goodness, Finn, I miss you."

"I miss you too. But the holidays will come soon enough."

We looked at each other, and then I leaned up and kissed him. Not on the cheek or forehead, as I had in the past, but a real kiss. And Phineas kissed back, which surprised me at first, but I didn't pull away. So we laid there and kissed, and I don't think I had ever felt more emotions at once.

When we broke apart, we talked for a bit more before the doctor made me leave. I kissed him once more, on the forehead, then the lips, and I walked out the door. Had I known I would never see him alive again, I would not have done so.

"Elisabeth!" My father commands sharply. He puts a hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face him, softening. "It's getting late. Why don't you go to bed?"

"Yes, Daddy, I will. I just need a moment."

"You've had a moment," he says, but then adds, "Not much longer."

"Yes, Daddy."

At the time, the funeral was a blur, but now I can recall every single second of it. I didn't know half the people there; I guessed they were from school. The other half I had met at various parties, or they were his family.

One of them I had not met, but I knew him. I had seen him in pictures with Phineas in their school uniforms. I had heard about him in letters and conversations for years. He stood with his parents, looking solemn and stoical, like a mourning guest who had experienced a loss. But I couldn't feel bad for him. I felt my loss was greater, and it was him who had caused it.

Gene looked at me from across the grave as the casket was lowered in. He had the audacity not to cry, to shed not even one tear. We locked gazes, and we both searched the other. I let out a sob into my handkerchief and suppressed the words of anger I wanted to scream. I would not, not, make a scene.

As we walked away, I caught him.

"Gene Forester?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"I'm Elisabeth Livingston." He shook my head. "You were Finn's roommate?"

"I was, at the Devon School."

"Yes, I know where he went to school. He lived across the street," I said out loud. In my mind I screamed at him. I knew where he went to school, and of their doings there. He didn't need to tell me.

"Are you…Lissie?"

"That's what he called me," I nodded. Recognition seemed to pass over his face.

"He spoke of you."

"I've heard many things about you too. Do you think perhaps, we might catch a bite to eat? There's a cafe just down the road."

"That'd be fine."

I knew as I talked to him that I really didn't like him. He was polite enough, but I felt like we weren't speaking. When it was over, he shook my hand and we parted ways. I haven't seen him again, and I don't care if I ever do. He took Phineas, stole my friends right out of my grasp. I have never hated someone, but if I were to, then it will be Gene Forester.

I can't say that I loved him. Phineas was Phineas, and though we were platonic, and I will never find anyone like him, I did not love him. At least, I loved him no more than he loved me. Given time, I don't think we still would have been able to love, not like in novels. Phineas loved everyone, and I was lucky to have experienced that.