(a/n - as most of you are probably aware, I've decided that to thank some of the totally freaking awesomesauce people I've met on here over the past year, I am going to write them a giftfic for Christmas. This story is for gypsy Rosalie, who, alongside writing utterly fabulous Bread fics, is my forum admin, constant reviewer, Louie headcanon, joetina shipper, conversation buddy. How can I ever thank you? Well, by writing this, of course! Merry Christmas.)
Last Christmas
You're sat in your lounge on Kelsall Street, listening to overly cheerful Christmas songs play on the radio. Why must Christmas songs always be so damn cheerful? Especially when you feel so damn miserable. For there's only one Christmas song which you can partially identify with. For last Christmas, you did give someone your heart. And they did give it away.
You blink back the tears as your mind plays the happy moments you've spent with him over and over again. He is the centre of your life, the part of you that is missing. He makes you complete. You had always been wary of love. Always. But he had smiled at you and mentioned how much he liked your charity work, and you were his. You were on the rollercoaster ride of fancy cars and expensive gifts and whispered nothings. You were a fully paid up season ticket holder for this exhilarating ride, the ride which you felt sure that you would never grow tired of. It would never let you down. But it did. You suppose everything does let you down, in the end.
Your wonderful ride crashed, and was replaced with one of prison sentences and nights away and broken promises. And that heart which you had so freely given him, he smashed it. Smashed it to a million pieces. And you can't get it back. No matter what happens, you will never be able to get it back. It is gone. Forever. Irreplaceable.
You guess that you might have become a bit obsessive, telling people he was your husband and practically stalking his family, but you need him. And you want to get back at him. For all he's done. You're heartless now, even charity work doesn't have the same joy it did before him. That's what he's done. He's changed you forever. You'll never get your old self back.
So now you're sat alone, listening to the Christmas songs which seem to taunt you due to your own failure in life. Miserable. Unfixable. The door opens. You guess it is Nellie from next door with some mince pies. You look up. It isn't Nellie. At all. You glare at the intruder, then melt into their arms, as part of you comes rushing back. You feel fixed, there, in his arms. He has that magic effect upon you. You never want to let him go. Never. And from the way he's holding you, he doesn't want to let you go either. And that, you can cope with. It may not be definite, but it is for now. And you'll cope with the present.
For this Christmas, Celia, is not going to be the same as last Christmas. Not now Shifty has returned your heart.
(a/n - so, a short Shelia piece [can I call the ship that?] for you, gypsy Rosalie, since I know you like the pairing. Thanks for being such a great person, here's to many more fangirl attacks together! Happy Christmas!)