It was Christmas day and Callie was throwing up in the bathroom. Jude had gone out and fetched green tea for her and boiled hot water on the stove. He let the bathroom door creak open and he placed the mug down next to her, kneeling on the tiles. She rolled with her back against the bathtub.

"This isn't how I meant to spend Christmas." Callie shut her eyes. "I'm sorry about breakfast."

"New years breakfast instead?" Jude suggested, pushing the mug into her chilled hands. "Are you okay?"

"I must have picked it up somewhere. I'm gone too much, doing too much. I want to do nothing, Jude."

"I know," he murmured.

The only thing that he could do was agree with her when she talked like this. She never appreciated his suggestions and, admittedly, none of them were entirely feasible. Jude wasn't as convinced as Callie was the Nic would stalk them to the ends of the earth in order to keep control of them, but the point was that she was so scared of it happening that Jude didn't want to push her. This was Callie's fight, after all.

"I'll be home for a while, he promised."

"You need time to get better, anyway. What do you think it is?"

"Just the flu," Callie said. "The whole world is against us, that's all."

Jude cracked a small smile at her words. At least it was true. Callie handed him back her tea so that she could stand up. He followed along with her as she staggered into their bed. Jude put the mug down on the floor next to her and then sat at the foot of the bed.

"Is there anything else that I can do for you, Callie?"

"No." She yanked the blankets up around her face, looking young and pale.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. You should get out of the room. I don't want to make you sick either."

"We still have some soup. Are you hungry?"

"No," she said. "Go, Jude. I'm going to nap."

With a sigh, Jude pushed himself off the end of the bed, heading out the door. He closed it most of the way shut, thinking that he should keep an ear out for Callie and it was his turn to take care of her, even though she would begrudge every bit of it. He settled himself down on the couch and opened his backpack, pulling out his new cards and his book of games. He opened the book, watching the pages blur together. He wished that he had someone to play a two-player game with. That was how he thought he was going to spend his Christmas. A good breakfast, exchanging the few gifts they had gotten each other, and then playing cards and wasting away the day. Last Christmas, once it had gotten dark, they had gone on a walk, looking at the Christmas lights on other houses, mocking and admiring those who put giant blow-up snowmen and Santa Clause's on their green lawns. They wouldn't be having that kind of Christmas this time.

He shuffled his cards and, though he wanted to look through the book, he dealt himself a game of Solitaire with his new cards.

(-.-)

Waking up on Christmas morning, Connor definitely felt the excitement of the morning, despite how exhausted he felt. Jellybean woke him by meowing incessantly and, upon him opening his eyes, Connor realized why. He could smell bacon in the air and he knew what she wanted. He scratched her ears and she let out a little purr.

"Come on, Jelly. Let's see if we can get out of bed today."

He hadn't, yesterday or the day before, in particular, though ever since school had let out, Connor had felt like he'd been living in a fog. He had been weak and shaky, throwing up sometimes outside of treatment. He pushed himself up and rubbed at his eyes and he just felt itchy, his face hot. He didn't feel great, still, but he kissed Jellybean's head. It was Christmas. It was going to be a good one.

"Come on," he said again, and he stood up from the bed, the world wobbling around him.

He made it down the hallway, firmly grasping the banister to help him down the stairs. Breathing was so hard. Going down steps was supposed to be easy by trying to sort out his feet was beginning to be too much. The closer he got to the smell of food, the more the pain in his stomach grew. He gripped the counter to keep himself upright.

"Morning, Dad."

"Connor!" Adam spun around from the stove. "You scared me!"

That much, Connor had guessed.

"I was going to bring breakfast upstairs. How are you feeling?"

"So so," Connor replied, not even trying to move away as Adam pressed a hand to his forehead.

"You're burning up! How do you feel, really?"

"Is the bacon done?" Connor asked.

It was Christmas. He was fine. It was Christmas. He was fine. Even if there was a weird ringing in his ears.

"Well, yeah," Adam said. "I put Jelly's piece in there."

Connor carefully picked it out of the pan, his fingers shaking as he took paper towel to blot of the grease so it wouldn't burn her small mouth. His knees went weak and he slowly lowered himself down onto the kitchen floor, ripping off pieces to feed to Jellybean. She purred around him, sniffing out the pieces of meat and nudging her head his legs. He pet along her back as she finished up the pieces. That was when he noticed something red hitting the floor and Connor knew what it was immediately.

"Dad … Dad, I'm …"

Bleeding.

The word drifted across his mind but it didn't make it out of his mouth. He went entirely fuzzy, his body feeling overheated. He couldn't breathe. He could taste the blood that was coming from his nose and down to his mouth and then the world tilted. Connor knew that he was going to hit the floor but his world went dark before he had to feel it.

(-.-)

Jude jammed his hands deep in his pockets, looking around. It was mostly dark now, just the tiniest bit of light blue left along the horizon line. Callie had shoved him out of the apartment when Nic walked in, ostensibly to check on her, though Jude didn't know if he would describe Nic as the nurturing type and he didn't know what kind of shape that Callie would be in when he got back. Not that Callie had been in great shape when he left. She was still throwing up and still curled up in bed, not that it stopped her from apologizing about ruining Christmas.

Not that Jude felt the difference. It was a day, just like any other day. He figured it would have gone about the same had Callie gotten ill in the middle of July. Except, when he walked along the streets in July, he'd have a little more daylight and there wouldn't be so much to look at, and Jude could admit that he liked the lights. A lot of them were the same, soft-coloured lights that Daria had at her Christmas party and it filled Jude with warm feelings that made him equal parts happy and equal parts uncomfortable, because all he could think about was Connor.

He wondered what Connor's Christmas was like. He and his father probably had a tree, like a real one, decorated with sparkling bulbs, maybe even Christmas music playing in the background, and it wouldn't be annoying like it was when it was playing in malls. He tried not to be jealous of it; he tried not to be jealous of everyone around him. Admittedly, it was one of the worst times of the year for him in terms of wishing that he was someone else and there wasn't a whole lot that he could do about it. Jude turned another corner, wandering deeper down another residential block. The occasional car passed him but, for the most part, he was alone. Everyone was in having dinner with their families or putting young kids to bed and Jude's stomach was grumbling as he stopped near a stop sign. He didn't feel bad staring into someone's living room window, watching a pregnant woman kiss her husband. Jude could see the mistletoe hanging above both of their heads.

The sight of mistletoe just had his blood boiling again and with a sigh, Jude jumped off the street corner, cutting diagonally across the road. There was no one out to hit him, anyway. He looked up and realized that he was getting close to Daria's actual house – he'd recognize these streets anywhere, even though he'd only walked them twice. Her Christmas party was something that he would never forget and it was funny to consider that she would never know it. She'd never know what monumental thing had happened in her upstairs hallway. Why should she know? Would should she care?

Why should anybody but he and Connor care? If Connor even cared at all, anymore. He might not. It would be better for both of them if he didn't care anymore. But, like Jude had told himself a million times before, it was time to stop thinking about it, even though he knew that he would never stop thinking about it. It wouldn't matter how long he ended up knowing Connor or how long he lived or what his life was like, Jude knew that he would never stop thinking about it.

Jude stopped before he got to Daria's street because he really didn't want to see what her Christmas was like at all. He stumbled down the street, mentally mapping out how far away Connor's house was. It was so close. He could be there in ten minutes. Less, even! But what good would that do? Jude wasn't going to knock on the door and ruin their Christmas. Connor would let him in if he showed up, because Connor was a good friend, but he didn't want to upset Connor's father. Adam probably wouldn't like it so much and that meant Adam wouldn't like him so much and then Adam might not let him come back. Even with all that rolling around in his brain, Jude's feet were out of his control and he was halfway to Connor's street before he had fully comprehended that was, in fact, where he was going.

In his pockets, his hands curled into fists. He wasn't going to knock. He wasn't going to do anything. He wasn't even going to be a creep and stand outside of the house. He was just going to walk by. There was nothing to stop him from walking by. It was a free country and it was just a street. A street that he had never thought that he would be so familiar with, given its neat lawns and family friendly block. Jude did start slowing down as he walked along in front of Connor's house. To his surprise, the house was dark. Not even the front porch light was in. His surprise caused him to stop in his tracks, frowning at the house. Adam's car was there but there was no sign of life. Jude wished that he had his cell phone; he wished that he had someway to know what was going on. He just wanted to soothe the anxiety that was raging inside of him because all he could think about was Connor's medical condition. The medical condition that he didn't know the name of and had no way to find out more about. The medical condition that Connor had always been so flippant about but that Jude thought about often.

He took a step toward the door, almost onto the street. He had his backpack and, so, he had the notebook that Connor had given him. It wouldn't take much to tuck a note into the mailbox, telling him that he had stopped by but he wasn't home and he hoped that things were fine.

Then, Jude took a step back. That felt like a lot. It would tip his hand. Connor knew that Jude wasn't just going to be wandering around this neighbourhood and there would be no way for Connor to answer him, anyway, so what would be the point?

So, Jude forced himself to keep walking, but he kept looking over his shoulder.

He'd never get Connor out of his mind.

If you have a song that reminds you of The Island Of Misfit Toys and would like it to be on the playlist, send it in and let me know! I'd love to hear your playlist suggestions. This week's songs are: Let's Run Away by Haley Reinhart; and Chain Breaker by Zach Williams.

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