A/N: So I lost two followers and got some...interesting reviews/PMs. You guys all took Fabian and Nina's argument different, but for those opposing the violence: that was a one-time thing, I swear. I'm actually not one for violence; my second-to-least favorite part in Titanic is when Leo is shaking the gate, screaming at the steward. It may just have been Leo, but...meh. (My least favorite part is Murdoch's death because THAT IS NOT HOW HE DIED IN REALITY GOD DAMNIT IT JAMES CAMERON.)

Anyway, I present chapter 23, The Holiday! I tried my hardest to not make it seem like a corny romance movie, but...whatever, I guess. Enjoy it while you can! Oh, and if any of you have Facebook and you like The Hunger Games, then play the game The Hunger Games Adventures. It's so fucking addicting, I can't even explain. If you want a buddy on that game, add Melanie Callina! It's my OC and I only use that account to play the Hunger Games Adventures, so feel free to send me requests for things you need or anything.

I liked writing this chapter immensely, mostly because I adore the OC's I created for Fabian's family. (I also love making Fabian's parents famous fictional characters. In Don't Be Afraid, his parents were the Weasley's, and now they're Gatsby and Daisy, in honor of me reading the book for the first time. Also, has anyone out there read "Tempest" by Julie Cross? That's another recommendation if you hadn't gotten your hands on it yet.

Allrighty, on to the story, I guess. You didn't come here to listen to me ramble. Onforth, readers!

/o~~~o/

Fabian
Chapter 23: "The Holiday"

A synopsis of the afternoon of November 15th, 2012: Nina came back, I let KT go, I hurt Nina. I walked out of the restaurant.

And we didn't talk after that.

A synopsis of the day of November 17th, 2012: I checked my email. I talked to Mick. I checked my email. I tossed a ball back and forth between me and Rosie. I checked my email again.

And I realized that I'd never talk to, much less see, Nina or Emma Martin again.

A synopsis of the week after that: Aaron called. I ignored his messages (18th). I bid a goodbye to Rosie, who had to back to her college, saying that she'd be home for Christmas (19th). Aaron called again and while I tried to blow him off, he left a very threatening voicemail on our landline (20th).

On the 21st, Mum saw me sitting by the computer screen, not typing, but only staring at the last message sent, from me: I'm scared for you now. Please answer back; I just need to know you're okay sent on the day that Nina had left town, evidently not okay.

Mum told me I should delete the messages between Nina and I, but I couldn't. She told me that if she were on Nina's side, she'd never even want to look at me again, after what I did to her; but as hard as I tried, as many times as my finger wavered over the delete button, I could never go through with it. I was too scarred to delete the messages, because they were the only words of her I had left.

I was in the studio on the 22nd. It was a long day, but only because Aaron was yelling at me all day to get recording, writing, and talking; by non, I was already tired out. He just kept pushing and pushing, no matter how hard I resisted, however, because he had already stalled the album's release.

I was like 83.5% sure that he hated me on the 23rd, because it was Chloe's 17th birthday and I blew him off to go out to eat for her birthday. The 24th was the day that he called me back into the studio to talk with some of the crew members; my drummer, Matthew, wanted to talk about dating some girl for publicity, telling me that because of the rumors that had been swirling, this girl named Arial would pretend to be a perfect angel, much unlike Nina, by kissing me in public and laughing and hugging.

So, like the dick I was, I agreed.

Then, on the 25th, I walked into the studio to meet Arial. As it turns out, she was more like the font than the mermaid: bold, big, and annoying. I cancelled the "publicity" idea, despite Aaron's protests.

The 26th was the day I called Aaron and told him I still wasn't over Nina; the 27th was a day in the studio; I had an interview on a talk show about my new album on the 28th, and on the 28th, I checked my email.

Nina is typing . . .

I sent a few messages of my own, most of them reading "What's up?" and "How are you?" or "How's life?"

Nina is typing . . .

"How's Emma?"

Nina is typing . . .

"What are you doing today?"

Nina is typing . . .

Nina is typing . . .

Nina is typing . . .

She had been typing since the 29th, but that only meant one thing: at one point or another, she had logged on to her email and read all those messages I sent the day after I hurt her in the bathroom. I didn't know what was taking her so long to type her message, but maybe she started typing and accidentally left a baby toy on one of the keys and one of these days I'd receive a message with ten million never-ending "n"s.

The first time I called Eddie (we had exchanged numbers back in October, on the first day we met after I complained to him that Nina wouldn't give me her phone number — he, irritatingly, respected Nina's wishes by not giving me her number like I'd anticipated he would, and instead giving me his) was on the 30th. After five rings, he picked up and only spoke a single word: "No."

Confused, I called him back. He answered on the first ring (was that even possible? If not, Eddie had just broken the rules of the Earth). This time, he said, "Wait."

And so, like a respected gentleman, I did. I waited until the next day, the first day of December. I called him back and this time he said, "Yes! Yes! Alive! Mom!"

I presumed that to mean he thought I was calling to see if Nina was still alive, but to this day I never found out why he yelled, "Mom!" along with it.

The first snowfall of the season happened the next day. Isabelle, an almost-twenty-five-year-old woman, found much fun in pelting me behind the head with snowballs. December 2nd was also my youngest sister, Olivia's, 15th birthday, so Mum baked a cake. However, we learned to never trust our mother's baking skills because as she almost set the kitchen in flames, Olivia was the verge of tears.

We all played board games on the 3rd because of the snow, and my crew made the final edits to the album on the 4th.

I had a promotional concert on the 5th. It got emotional for me when, at the end, I decided to sing Isn't She Lovely for the whole crowd. It made me think of my daughter and what she was doing; I hadn't seen her since November 14th. It had only been 3 weeks, but I was missing both of my girls like crazy. It didn't help when I sang Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer, my favorite artist, the song I sang on August 15th, 2009, the Saturday I'd had the one-night stand with Nina on.

It felt odd to be giving fans photo and autographs on the 6th in fear that someone would post it online. I figured that at least Nina and Emma were safe and sound in their house, the house I hadn't visited in over a month.

I wondered what Nina was thinking about and what she thought of me as a person right now; did she like how I was acting in public, knowing I'd hurt her the way I did? I had no doubt she watched the talk show I appeared on on the 7th, the day NAH (Not a Heartbreaker, the album I had been working on for months) was released. I could've thanked God that the talk show host, Brianna, didn't ask about the photographs or anything that was released since the day at the park in the interview; instead, all she talked about was the new album, and I was more than thankful for that.

The 8th was the day we planned to shop for a Christmas Tree, but it was also the day that we learned to not go out in public the day after the release of my album. Stuck inside our house that was surrounded by girls and old men with cameras, the Rutter family (Mum, Dad, Isabelle, David (Isabelle's boyfriend), Chloe, Olivia, and we skyped Rosie at her college) to celebrate the release of the album at my success. It was fun, drinking non-alcoholic piña coladas because Olivia and Chloe were still minors.

On the 9th, Aaron pushed through the fading crowd in front of my house and told everyone that my label was thinking three or four songs on NAH into music videos; I agreed, of course, but my family was more excited than I could ever be.

The 10th was the day I walked into the studio, ready to film, and at about 11 AM, I asked Aaron if I could put a short message at the beginning of the On My Mind video for Nina to see — I knew she'd understand when she saw it, because I also knew she'd watch the video when it was released, however mad at me she might have been. Even though she was the mother of my child, she was still a fan of Fabian Rutter's music. If she wasn't going to talk to me over email, the least I could do was communicate with her by YouTube videos.

And, unfortunately, my father overhead me talking to Aaron about my idea. He, apparently, had sonic hearing when I mentioned the name Nina within 300 yards around him.

Just when I thought he'd dropped his grudge against the Martin family, he began his argument by telling me "how much happier I had been since Nina disappeared" and that "it was better now, Nina was gone and my career could take off because there wasn't a 17-year-old slut dragging me down".

If he wasn't my father and we weren't surrounded by hundreds of other people, I would've punched him right then and there.

As we shot a few "performing" scenes, I had come to a final conclusion, this time with no anger involved whatsoever. What happened with Nina in 2009 was a mistake at its height, but Nina herself...was the farthest thing from it.

I'd asked myself hundreds of times what my life would be like without her, and my final decision was: upsetting. I wouldn't be famous. I wouldn't have met my best friends. And I'd be working at a different job, something I didn't like as much as music. She changed my life in a good way, despite all the bad things to come with it, but I was thankful for Nina, all in all.

I didn't know what to expect when I reunited with her in August. At the time, the only memories of her I had stored were of the night we had together in 2009: the afternoon in the coffee shop, the evening in the flat, and our actual one-night stand together. There was no evidence to know how she'd changed.

I realized that, in the past five months, she had been anything but a static person after the course of three years apart. Nina had matured, aged, felt pain, love, hopelessness, happiness, worthlessness, and above all, pain; she had pushed a baby out of her vagina at a young age of only 16. She had endured bullying, taunting, teasing, and emotional/physical abuse, some from yours truly.

I knew that Eddie and Nina had become friends because some girl at her school pushed a shopping cart toward her in the market, so Eddie, a complete stranger, jumped in front of her to take the blow for her. That was in 2007, much before she became pregnant with my child.

Aaron finally agreed, ignoring the protests of my father, to put a message in the video. Through the days, we worked our tushies off on the video; we finished filming all the videos on the 14th, seeming as most of them were only three minutes long. Aaron told us he'd release the first one in less than a week, and that I should have a twitcam to announce the release of the video, as well on the day of too.

So, the announcing tweet said: Twitcam tomorrow! Sorry for the short notice, but hey! If you want to hear the news, tune in!

I was planning to announce something much bigger than the release date of my video on the twitcam I was having on the 15th. My sisters, somehow, had no idea why I was so nervous as I made the sure the camera wasn't in front of a mirror or anything (I heard that John Green had once released a video in front of a mirror, exposing to the entire world that he was not wearing pants.)

Fortunately, this time, I was fully clothed and no mirrors were in sight. The camera was positioned in my room, and I counted down the seconds until I pressed the button, seach milliseconds taking seconds off of my life. I talked with some of the viewers as they asked questions, and I told them that in a few days, a new music video would be released, but I also said that in a matter of weeks, too, I'd be releasing some new information.

The 16th and 17th were exhausting days full of exhausting things: they mostly consisted of Aaron yelling at me about the "new information" I was intending to release. I think he knew that I was planning on telling everyone I had a daughter soon, which I was, which he didn't take lightly. He finally agreed to put the message on the video; the new information, apparently, was too much.

The first video, On My Mind, was released on the 18th. I watched it as Matthew uploaded it to YouTube, and I smiled as I saw the first thing to pop up: To both of my girls: I'm sorry. And I know you're watching this, so enjoy and message me back.

I waited. I waited on the 19th, the 20th, and the 21st. Christmas was approaching and as the hype of the new album died down, I had to perform a concert to seal the deal on the 22nd, and on the 23rd, two days before the Holiday, we finally bought a tree. Since I was the only man and my other sisters had no muscle, it took us a whopping three hours to simply cut the tree down; you couldn't imagine how much longer it took to haul the tree back to the van.

We hung ornaments through the 24th, and after all night hanging them up, I checked my email a final time before going to bed, only to see a pleasant surprise: Nina had finally messaged me back.

I was tempted to ask her why she was typing on the 28th, but I held back as I read her message: So I watched the video.

Fabian Rutter I see you did. What did you think of it?
Nina Martin Good as always, but we're talking about the message at the start of the video, Fabian. Are you SO desperate to talk to me?
Fabian Rutter Just a little bit. We haven't talked for over a month now, Nina.
Nina Martin And I have good reason to not talk to you. You hurt me, Fabian, both physically and emotionally, and I don't think I could've handled it if I had talked to you.
Fabian Rutter Granted. But I'm taking responsibility now, and I don't care what you say: Emma is my daughter too. I deserve to see her.
Nina Martin I know you do. But like I said, Fabian, I was concerned for my own safety, and if I felt the LEAST bit afraid to even COME OVER your house, something was wrong.
Fabian Rutter ...Look, I was angry. And I know that's no excuse, but you boil my blood more than anyone else, and you always have. And, well...that's particially why I stuck around. You always kept me on my toes. And now that no anger whatsoever is residing in me, I have a question for you.
Nina Martin Ask away, I guess.
Fabian Rutter You know how Christmas is only one day away? Well, I was wondering if you'd want to come over. Don't feel threatened, I promise that I would never do anything to hurt you. Starting now.
Nina Martin I'll only go if you swear you'll never hurt me again. Because if I feel the slightest tinge of fear, I'm out of there. (And I'm also only going because Mara's in Australia for her aunt now and Eddie is going on YET ANOTHER fishing trip with his dad. I have come to the conclusion that fishing is all they do nowadays.)
Fabian Rutter No, I promise I'd never do anything to hurt you. My mother will smother you with love. And besides, we have a ginger bread house, and I'll allow you to eat all of it and smother it with oatmeal and peanut butter, your two favorite things. Are you in?
Nina Martin ... I'll think about it. (:
Fabian Rutter YES! Wait, I mean, okay. I'll see you there, yah?
Nina Martin I guess you will.

/o~~~o/

Then, my whole life had been transformed from a ballad of sad Christmas songs to happy ones. "I'll Be Home For Christmas" suddenly seemed like the most hopeful song of the holidays because Nina, the mother of my child, the apple of my eye, the person who'd I'd disrespected and mistreated and probably could never understand how much pain she was actually in.

The doorbull rang throughout the house as Chloe helped Olivia repair the ginger bread house, which had unfortunately been knocked over last night because Isabelle and her fiance, David, were 'passionately kissing' and knocked the table over.

"Liv!" Chloe chided, lightly smacking her sisters arm in disapproval. "You have to put the gum drops exactly two inches apart! See, if you don't even them out, they look dumb!"

"Well, sorry!" Liv responded back, sarcasm leaking. I chuckles as I jogged to the door, hearing Mum call from the kitchen that her hands were dirty, but I already knew that it was Nina even before I peeked through the key hole.

Yesterday, I realized that in the short time I was emailing her, I was so desperate to get the idea of coming over my house seem appealing to her that I completely forgot to ask if she could bring our daughter. However, to my pleasant surprise, when I peeked through the key hole, Emma's blue eyes were shining in the afternoon light.

"Hey!" I greeted, opening the door, going for Emma first. Nina handed her over gratefully; at that point, I was so overcome with joy that I could've jumped up and shouted with absolute glee. My daughter was back in my arms. "How are you? How have you been?"

"Daddy!" Emma cheered, going for my hair once again. While I would have been annoyed on a normal day, it was Christmas, and it was the frag time I was seeing my daughter since November 14th.

"How are YOU?" I moved my head around Emma's body to see Nina, who was standing beside me, holding her arms behind her back. "I haven't seen you in a while, either."

When I pushed Emma's hand out of my hair, I shushed her before she could throw a tantrum. I looked over Nina; she was wearing a black and white sweater and a blue skirt with black leggings underneath; something much too short for the cold winter Liverpool air. So, like the gentleman I was, I took off my jacket and laid it around her shoulders, ignoring Nina's pleads for her day to not turn into some corny romance movie.

"Come; let's go inside," I was too afraid to guide her inside again, afraid that if I touched her back, even with the gentlest of touches, she'd freak out and run back home. So we stood side by side as I held the door open for her with one hand, my other arm holding a child.

"I want banana," Emma groaned, making me laugh with delight as Nina and I walked into the foyer. "And gingie, and prezzats. And Daddy for crismás."

My eyes widened and even though her back was facing me, I could feel her cringe. I had no idea what had been going on in Nina's life in the month I wasn't there, but she, evidently, had been telling the poor child that her father was gone once again. "Well, kid," I told her, tilting her chin so her small baby eyes were looking at me, "Your dad's here again. No worries. HEY, MUM?" I called out soon; I heard rustling and bangs coming from the kitchen.

Nina started to move her body toward the noise, but I stopped her by making her run into my arm. "It's okay," I announced, "they do that a lot. There's extra padding in the kitchen." As Nina laughed, the first person to appear in the foyer was my oldest sibling, Isabelle Audrey Rutter, soon-to-be Isabelle Audrey Toombs, as David had proposed to her under the mistletoe last night. The family celebrated of course, but Mum was too busy preparing the Christmas supper for nine people to pay much attention to the fiancées.

"Hey!" she greeted Nina, unsure to go for a hug or a handshake. In the end, the two girls had settled for a hand shake. "I'm Isabelle, but you can call me Isabelle," she joked lightly, but I shook my head in an attempt to convey the expression Never make a joke again.

"Anyway," she continued, sneering at me. "I'm basically 25, because my birthday is in five days. I'm Fabian's oldest sister, as well as Rosie, meanwhile Chloe and Isabelle are the younger two...and I presume you're Nina, the infamous mother of Fabian's child, my ... sort-of sister-in-law to my niece...?"

"I don't know what you'd call me," she grinned, laughing. "I'm just Nina, I guess."

Introductions ensued; Rosie came strolling through the door, fulfilling her promise that she'd be home for Christmas. Mum finally came out of the kitchen to greet her daughter, to kiss her on the cheek, and that was when she finally addressed that Nina was in the household.

"Oh!" she cheered, scanning over Nina like I had just did. It was warm in the house, so Nina's hands weren't folded together like they were outside in an attempt to keep warm. "You must be Nina. I'm Daisy, Fabian's mother. You must be Emma's mother, then!"

"Yeah," Nina responded awkwardly, turning around as if to see if her child was still in my arms. Which, she was, as I was letting her play with my hair and giggle instead of putting her down and annoying Chloe and Olivia more, who were on the floor relating the ginger bread house. "Um...nice to meet you. I'm Nina, obviously. Um...I...sorry to bother you, especially on Christmas, I mean–"

"Nonsense!" Mum wiped Nina's worries away with the wave of her hand, placing her hand on Nina's shoulder in reassurance. "It's perfectly fine. Rosie, why don't you go fetch your father from his study and tell him to engage in social activities? Isabelle, turn up the music, and Fabian and Nina, dears, would you two be dolls and tell Chloe and Olivia that the ginger bread house doesn't need repairing?"

"Course," I agreed, eventually encouraging Nina to walk with me. "Come on, take off my coat, stay awhile," I teased, making Nina slip off the black overcoat and toss it on the couch's arm. I leaned down and tapped Olivia on the shoulder, who looked up at me, her red hair flinging in front of her face.

She pushed herself up and reluctantly sat next to Nina, Emma, and I on the couch; when silence was our clarity, Olivia leaned over and whispered into my ear, much out of hearing distance from the other two girls next to us.

I laughed weakly at what Olivia was telling me, so I leaned over to the other side and whispered in Nina's ear: "Olivia wants to talk to you about Emma."

Nina grinned at me before leaning around my back to say to my youngest sister, who I still couldn't believe was fifteen: "It's okay, Olivia. Don't be afraid, we don't bite! What do you want to know?"

I got up off the couch, trying to pry Nina's wolverine nails off of my arm; I guessed she was trying to tell me to stay, so instead of sitting on the couch next to her, I sat on the carpeted floor in front of her.

So Olivia asked her when the little girl was born, and Nina replied happily; she either liked talking about her, or was never really asked about her own daughter. I never once stopped to think that the people in her school probably didn't really care that their fellow schoolmate was a mother; and after living with my own mother for over nineteen years, I think I understood well how proud a mother could be of their child. When I was first offered a record deal, my mother didn't stop congratulating me for two months.

And then, holding back a guffaw, Olivia asked Nina if she could hold her niece. I was this close to laughing, but only because it took Olivia a whopping three minutes to get the full sentence out of her mouth. I knew Olivia was shy and had social anxiety, but I'd assured her multiple times yesterday when I told the family that Nina was coming over for Christmas that Nina wasn't a demon and she was actually nice when she wanted to be.

I was very much surprised that Nina was acting so comfortable around me after what I'd done to her in the bathroom over a month ago. I realized that exactly— that it had been over a month, well enough time to move on and continue to live — but after all the pain that she was in, after all the death threats that had come her way and the fact that I slapped her the same day she returned back to town; well, I don't know if I'd be slouching in the person that hit me's couch if I was her. (Not that I'd do anything like that again so don't get the wrong idea.)

Nina let Olivia hold her niece gratefully; Emma protested at first, hiding behind her mother's back, and caused quite a scene when I took liberty by grabbing my daughter around her waist and picking her up, then dropping her back on the couch when she started to scream. In a panic, I didn't even notice how Emma started laughing when she bounced when she hit the cushions, therefore allowing Olivia to pick her up and start talking to her.

Olivia and Emma were only thirteen years apart, yet they were aunt and niece. It was strange to think that in a measly amount of years, I'd have to be telling Emma all about her messed-up family tree.

"You're eating supper here, right, sweetie?" Mum called from the kitchen, presumably trying to make conversation with Nina. She turned away from watching her sort-of sister-in-law play with her daughter and called into the kitchen, where my mother continued to ask, "Okay, what would you like?"

"Whatever you're having is okay," she shrugged, turning away. "I'll really eat anything."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, lifting myself up the slightest bit so I was sitting on my calves. "Nina, we may have been apart for three years, but if there's one thing I remember about you from that night, it's that you wouldn't eat the thing I prepared for you when we went back to my flat."

She grinned but at the same time seemed playfully taken aback and disgusted that I had protested against her argument; she leaned on her legs as I had been doing and turned around to face me; from the corner of my eye, I saw Emma wriggle to get out of Olivia's arms, and I heard her whimpering to see Daddy and Mommy, and Olivia, the softie, let her go and Emma ran across the cushions and fell into Nina's lap, laughing like nothing in the world could ever bother her.

Nina smiled and picked her daughter up to sit up straight, then against her protests, handed Emma over to Olivia again. I wished with ever fiber of my being to touch her again, to let her play with my hair, but if I was mending things with Nina, my child could wait for the moment.

"That's because whatever you made was a disgusting mess," she retorted, smiling all the same.

"Stay!" Olivia commanded Emma, making her sit.

"No!" Emma protested, standing her ground against her fifteen-year-old aunt. "No wanna! Dada!" Then, much to Nina's horror, Emma walked off the edge of the couch and landed face-first, straight into my lap. I guess it was lucky that she aimed for her father, because if she didn't, she might have cracked her skull open on the carpet.

"Oh, Jesus, Emma," Nina breathed, looking like she had just stopped her own heart attack. She wasn't talking loud enough for the toddler to hear over her constant giggles. "Don't do that." I straightened Emma up again, sitting her in my lap, noticing that Olivia looked much too afraid of herself to ask to see her niece again.

"Back to what you were saying, Nina: I'm like eighty-five percent sure that my cooking is much better than you could ever do." Nina laughed softly again, turning her gaze away from mine; I couldn't see her laugh or her beautiful smile, because she turned away. I couldn't see that I made her happy or that she enjoyed listening to my voice. It must have been strange for her, seeing me in person for the first time in over a month, hearing my voice again, and this time not through headphones or a computer screen.

"No way," she continued to defend herself, making me smile with her. I started to tell her that my mother had taught me how to cook in the emergency of that she died and the girls were suffering from PTSD because of her death (My mother thought of very strange circumstances) so I knew how to make certain meals perfectly, but Nina refused to surrender her argument. I felt like she was going to tackle me playfully when my mother interrupted all the activities in the sitting room by yelling, "JAY!"

Jay, my father, the person who kept telling me to forget everything that had happened since August, finally came out of his study. I knew my mother was, at least, trying to be discreet and quiet, but unfortunately I could hear her, even from the other room: "Nina's in the common room. Please try to be nice, honey."

I couldn't hear anything else after that, because my father wasn't as loud as my mother. Nina, however, looked quite afraid when she heard my father approaching, and I suddenly had a weird flashback to over a month ago, to Nina and I in the bathroom, screaming at each other, me hitting her, and before that, her telling me that my father hated her. I couldn't argue with that; I knew my father just wanted the best for me, but he was bashing on Nina in the process, too.

"Hello, Nina," he greeted, finally walking into the sitting room. In response to Nina's tension, to how she straightened her back in fear, I pushed myself off the floor fully, making sure to place Emma on the ground carefully before sitting next to Nina on the couch and without thinking about, rubbing her back in a circle. I knew she was scared; she had every right to be with how my father treated her, but the only thought on my mind was how she was letting me touch her, was letting me comfort her, was letting me lay a hand on her after everything I had put her through, after all the pain — both physically and emotionally — I had put her through on November 15th, was still letting me touch her; I couldn't be more grateful.

"Hi, Mr. Rutter," she responded quickly, after she grabbed my hand and folded her fingers through mine. It might have been the first time we had ever held hands; everything since August had just been a blur to me. Some things I remembered clearly were reuniting, meeting Emma, the coffee shop in September, surprising her after spending two weeks apart, the days the two photographs were taken, and the day she left town, all the way back in early November.

"It's okay," he laughed lightly, trying to meet her gaze. "I know how I've acted in the past, but it was only because I just want Fabian to go far. He's told me before that you're the reason he's become famous; is that true?"

"I would think so," she murmured, turning her gaze away from my father and back to me, apparently the only person she could fall back on. "I mean...you said that I gave you the courage to really ask for a record deal, right?"

I smiled and was about to agree, to say that she was the entire reason why I was famous, but Chloe, who was previously on the floor, pushed herself up and interrupted us with, "You know what? It's not really feeling like Christmas. Let's turn on some music and open some presents!" Her attempts to get the family up and moving failed, but she did turn the music on and Baby, It's Cold Outside came on while she leaned under the newly decorated Christmas tree and sat down with a wrapped present.

Isabelle, who was on the other couch, got up and pulled her fiancee, David, with her, to go dance in the middle of the common room; she kicked aside a wooden table while kissing him all the same. I turned around, ignoring my father again, to catch a gaze with Nina, realizing that in the five months I had known her, I had never once kissed her. Sure, we had been close before (Sometimes too close; there were times when I had to tell myself it was too soon, I couldn't kiss, she had to go somewhere, I had to go somewhere) but we never kissed, not since the night we had together in August 2009.

"Come with me," I told her, once I was off the couch and I could offer her my hand. Chloe had grabbed my dad and was dancing with him, and Olivia was still sitting on the couch, probably thinking I hate my family I hate my family I hate my family.

"What?" she questioned, looking at me like I was a puppy who had just attacked her at the door, like I hadn't seen her in months.

"Come with me," I repeated, pulling her off the couch against my will. "Dance with me," I suggested, grinning the slightest bit. It was starting to turn corny, everything against what Nina wanted, but hey, a few corns and a few cheese were better than no contact at all.

"I can't do this," she protested quietly, her puke-green eyes shining like emeralds in the cold winter air filtering through the windows of our house on the hill.

"We're gonna have to get a little bit closer," I told her, my smile elongating by the second. The music for the song was continuing, and the lyrics were going to come on soon; I wanted to get her to dance before the words made an appearance. "Like this."

"I don't know the steps," she laughed, so weak I almost didn't hear it.

"Neither do I," I joked, actually knowing the steps, just wanting to dance with her. It couldn't be a fast dance, not with this song; Nina and I would have to do something completely different than that, something almost terrifying: slow dance. "Just go with it." I brought her closer, so close she could probably see the exact color of my eyes again.

"I really can't stay," she sang, but spoke it at the same time. I couldn't see whether she was actually telling me she couldn't stay, or she was just singing along to the lyrics.

"But, baby, it's cold outside," I laughed along, our voices so slow they could be whispers.

"I've got to go away," she responded, making sure that no one else heard as our feet moved in unison. We moved so slowly that sometimes it felt like we were walking on air, sometimes like we weren't moving at all, and instead just standing with Nina's head leaning into my not-so-buff chest, singing a Christmas song.

"But, baby, it's cold outside," I repeated, looking down at her through the dim florescent lights. Looking down at her, seeing Emma play with the stuffing in the couch in the other corner of the room, I could've sobbed; I never realized how much I missed her, or how many times I left her and she left me.

"This evening has been," she spoke this time, no tone in her voice whatsoever.

"Been hoping that you'd drop in," I spoke the truth with the lyrics now. "So very nice; I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice." I waited for Nina to continue the chain, but she didn't. She laid her head on my chest for a moment before turning away, leaving me alone in the middle of the sitting room, with Chloe and my father dancing together and Isabelle and her soon-to-be-husband kissing under the mistletoe, the ornaments glinting on the Christmas tree in the afternoon December light.

/o~~~o/

Chloe gasped. "Look!" she announced, pointing above where Nina and I were standing in the kitchen. It took her a whopping thirty seconds to stop internally fangirling and jumping up and down before saying, "Fabian and Nina are under the mistletoe, and you know what that means!"

"Aw!" Mum cooed, holding her hand to her heart before walking back in the kitchen to set up supper. The sun had began to set and was now filtering through the window with a tint of purple leaking through. "How adorable."

"Oh," Nina murmured, a blush appearing on her cheeks. Just as soon as I smirked at her, rather suggestively, she turned away from me once again. A strand of her light-brown hair had fallen out from behind her ear and rested on her face; I knew it would be completely awkward, stupid, and cheesy if I tried to brush it away, but it was seriously annoying me, with it being only one hair and all.

"Yeah," I murmured, never wanting to kiss someone more, but I knew it would be inappropriate. It seemed weird, knowing the last time we kissed was over three years ago, on the first night we met. "So..."

Nina turned and walked away.

/o~~~o/

It took a while for my mother to set up dinner for nine people, so it was no surprise why she found Nina and I sleeping on the couch, next to each other. When she shook me, the sunset out the window had disappeared and was replaced with darkness; pitch-blackness was now making its way through the windows.

"Time to get up, Fabe," she laughed lightly, stirring me awake.

"How long have I been sleeping for?" I wondered groggily, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Mum leaned back to let me stretch, but my arm hit something in front of me: my daughter, sleeping between my legs near my feet. "Should I wake her?" I yawned, my question aimed at the woman in front of me.

"Not that long," she answered my first question, "an hour, at most. You were playing Words With Friends with Nina and then you suddenly passed out," she laughed, leaning down to brush some of Emma's hair out of her face, probably to see her granddaughter's beauty. "You should just let her sleep. She was awake when you first fell asleep and she couldn't find you, so she started screaming; it took Isabelle a little while to get the poor child to realize her parents were sleeping together on the couch. Oh, and by the way...what happened with Nina to make her sleep next to her?"

"Oh!" I announced, slowly turning around as if I had been lying in the cold all night long, letting the frost pile on my eyebrows. I saw Nina, sitting next to me, softly breathing, somehow falling asleep in the hectic noise of my house.

I wondered: if I didn't invite her over my house, where would she be right now? Would she be with her grandmother, since Mara was in Australia and Eddie was on yet another fishing trip? "Um..." I murmured, scanning her features before turning away to face Mum again. "Well, like you said, we were playing Words With Friends, and it was my turn, and I couldn't find a word, and, well...then she fell asleep, and I fell asleep."

"Ah," Mum smiled, pushing herself up again. "Well, supper's on the table. Do you want to come and eat?" I nodded, and Mum ruffled my hair before walking away, leaving Nina, Emma, and I alone on the couch.

I took a deep breath and sat up, making sure to not wake either of my girls. I turned around and watched everyone in the family, each of the five girls including my father and David, sit on the chairs before digging in. Mum's food was always so good, and I was so hungry, so I gave in and shook Nina awake. It took her a few seconds to stretch a bit before rubbing her eyes, the sunset still an echo in them.

"Where are we?" she whispered; I laughed before telling her we were still on the couch, the same as we had been one hour ago when we were battling over who could create the longest word on the Facebook game. Nina yawned, stretched, and noticed Emma, her small two-year-old form, somehow fitting in between my legs, near my feet. "Oh. I, um, hear forks and knives being used. Is your family having dinner?"

"They sure are," I told her, being careful as I shook Emma awake. It took her the longest out of all of us to wake up; I think it was one hundred and twenty seconds before she moved her head, catching my gaze, her short, thin, light-brown hair in tangles around her head. "Daddy? Presents? Mommy?"

I laughed, picking her up and sitting her in my lap again as I moved from where I lay. "We'll open the presents later. Do you want supper, Emma?"

"Supper?" Emma questioned, her small brown eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Everything about her was small; I knew that the kids in grade small were growing smaller and smaller as time went on; Nina told me that the people in grade 9 in her school were tiny compared to when she was in grade 9. I'd hate to see what the 9th graders in 2028 would look like, the year when Emma would be the same age as Nina was right now.

"Dinner," I corrected, realizing that Nina, a former American, had probably used American terms around her American daughter, even though Emma was born and had started being raised in England. Nina, at once, sat up next to me, leaning against my shoulder and watching Emma play with my hair once again. "Did she ever play with your hair, Nina, or is it just mine?"

"Are you kidding me?!" she responded incredulously, grinning, meeting my gaze once again. "She probably does that to me more than she does it to you. You know that strand of hair you mentioned, the one that keeps falling in front of my face? Yeah? Yeah, Emma grabbed at that particular strand so much that it fell out of position. It's been in my face ever since." I guessed that what she was speaking about happened while we were apart.

I mentioned going and joining my family for Christmas dinner, but she refused the offer. I didn't want to get up while she was still sitting on the couch with me, though, so we waited until the family was finished eating and Dad brought some baked ziti over for us to share. I fed Emma some spare noodles once in a while, but she apparently wasn't that hungry. Mum told me she'd fed my daughter while we were asleep, so that helped me calm down a bit when she wouldn't eat anything.

"Oh!" I exclaimed again, this time louder, now that everyone was wide awake. "That reminds me. I have to go and get something." I scurried off to the car, leaving Nina alone and confused on Christmas Day, in the father of her baby's house, the dwelling of a famous singer. I had bought a Christmas present for her; it was nothing special, just a watch, since she never had any clocks around. It wasn't even that expensive, and it wasn't made of gold or anything to suggest that I'd went to desperate measures for her to love me.

I returned to find Nina heavily in conversation with Isabelle; my oldest sibling looked at the edge of her seat, waiting to tell something someone, but I interrupted their chat by sitting down next to Nina and handing her the wrapped box, saying, "Merry Christmas!" quite enthusiastically. I encouraged her to open it when she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I didn't get you anything," she admitted, looking down at the material of the couch, playing with a loose string. "I feel like a horrible person. Maybe you were right: maybe I am a bad person." That was the first time either of us had brought the subject of our fight up to attention since she'd arrived, and at the moment, I wasn't in the mood to argue who got their point across better; it was Christmas, and it was meant to be celebrated with family, friends, or whatever the hell Nina was to me nowadays. I pointed to the box which she finally opened, rather reluctantly, and hugged me when she realized what it was. I hugged her back.

She thanked me before Isabelle came running back with David hand-in-hand, shouting to the ten people in the room that she was pregnant; the whole room exploded, Mum especially. Even though she was already a grandmother, she hugged and congratulated her oldest daughter about carrying a child with her fiancee, not even her husband yet. Nina seemed happy, all the same, but disappointed, too; I doubted anyone had been this excited for her when she was carrying a child, ten years younger than Isabelle was right now (25; Nina was 15).

Isabelle walked over to Nina and they started to talk again, and this time they conversed about pregnancy; Nina told her all about the ups and downs of the time she was pregnant, from 2009 to 2010; Nina spoke about the morning sickness, the emotional roller coaster, the cramps, the contractions, the birth; everything in detail to the point where I wanted to run out of the house screaming. I'd heard the word "uterus" one too many times in her speech.

Isabelle, in her happiness with the rest of the house, quieted everyone and asked Nina one-on-one if Emma could stay the night.

"I don't know," Nina responded, but the twenty-five year old woman argued that now that she was pregnant, she'd like to be around a living child for a while, just to see how her baby would be like when they were two.

I touched her shoulder in reassurance; with me in the picture, she seemed to have calmed down a bit more than when she was just surrounded by my sisters and my parents. "Yeah," I argued, "I'd like to spend the night with my daughter, too. I've never done it before, and I'm sure the seven of us will be able to take more than enough care of her."

"Okay," Nina agreed immediately, once she saw that I was actually serious about the task. "Fabian, will you drive me home? You know I don't have my driver's license, and we need to get Emma's things for the night, so..." she asked me, picking up Emma and carefully inserting her into Isabelle's arms, who took her gratefully and started to play with her hands. Emma started to protest that she couldn't touch Isabelle's neat, fluffy brown hair, and I walked Nina out after we said goodbye to everyone.

I started the car and turned the heat up; as soon as she sat down and buckled up, Nina began talking, which, once again, I was grateful for. "Don't think that you can just buy me," she stated simply, meeting my gaze once again. She looked as beautiful as she did one month ago, or three years ago, too. "I'm not saying you were, though. Don't try to deny what you did last month, because I remember it clearly — but anyway, I have a date with Dylan on New Year's Eve."

"Dylan?" I repeated, and she nodded. "The guy you were talking to the day you came back in the restaurant, the guy who comforted you when you didn't show up?"

"Yup," Nina confirmed, shaking her head in delight. From a first glance, the guy looked like an asshole, but Nina had obviously been talking to him through my absence again. She must have talked to him every time she saw me on YouTube, and she must have yelled at him over me when she saw the message to her in my On My Mind video.

"Oh," I murmured, turning the steering wheel as we hit a corner. The silence wasn't awkward this time, but neither of us knew what to say. I thanked Nina for letting Emma stay overnight, which she welcomed me for, but then silence ensued again. We radio surfed, looking for a good song, and when my song came up on a local radio station, Nina laughed hysterically and turned the volume up, most likely sarcastically, jamming out to my song. It only made it worse that the song was from my new album, the one Nina wasn't with me when it was released.

We drove back to her house; I said hello to her grandmother and wished her a happy Christmas, made fun of their makeshift Christmas tree since they didn't have enough time or money to buy a new one (It was an air freshener with poorly wrapped presents underneath it), and we drove back to my place.

With snow on the ground, but warm air somehow seeping through the open windows, Nina and I sang Christmas carols all the way home, flashing back to September, when everything was easier, when Isabelle wasn't pregnant, when the photographs didn't exist, before I hurt Nina, and when I bet Jerome that I'd get Nina to kiss me by October 1st, and it was now December 25th. I still owed him ten pounds.

/o~~~o/

A/N: Today is Friday and I am planning to get a head start on both Lost & Found and Don't Be Afraid, so I'm praying that somehow Tumblr is down and I don't get destracted by The Hunger Games Adventures again. Or the fact that Catching Fire is being released in a week.

The next chapter is 24, and I've yet to think of a clever name. The original title was "The Makeup", but I don't like that, so...it takes place on New Year's Eve and is a major progression point in Fabian and Nina's relationship once again. I have no idea how to end this Author's Note...so I do hope you have a nice weekend and I hope the hatred you felt towards me last week has faded.
All right, hasta luego!
~Lia