I wasn't listening to a word he said. None of it mattered, really; I still wouldn't have a clue by the time we went home. I was vaguely aware that he'd spent the last five minutes trying to explain to me why we couldn't buy a child oil pants, despite them coming in pretty tubes which I had deemed perfect for a child. The shop assistant looked amused, though she was nodding in agreement with my boyfriend. I didn't blame the guy; it was fucking adorable.

"So, acrylic paint, then?" I asked, trying to remember my options.

Carlisle nodded, surprisingly patient considering how many times we'd spoken about this at home. He kept his mouth shut, but frowned when I picked up a tube at random, assuming that this shade of white would do.

"What? It's white paint," I laughed, rolling my eyes. "I'm not going to stand here and discuss how 'eggshell' is different from 'blanc'."

"Fine, but…that's a textured paint, Gar. It's not white…"

I glared at the offensive tube, my mood quickly dissolving. It was fucking paint; I just wanted to go home. Sensing I was about to rip my hair out, Carlisle took it out of my hands, replacing it with what was apparently plain damn paint. I hated myself for having to ask the next question. "What are the primary colours again?"

Both the shop assistant and my boyfriend groaned, making eye contact and starting to laugh. I let them have their fun, seeming as I was essentially going to be bratty child for the rest of the day.

Eventually, I managed to put enough stuff together which was apparently novice-painter appropriate, and we finally got to go home. I bribed Carlisle with pizza to get him to help me wrap everything, not considering for a second the implications this was going to have.

"Garrett…"

Ripping off the plastic covering the roll of wrapping paper with my teeth, I glanced over my shoulder at him. "What?" I'd been hoping that he was feeling more comfortable with the idea of Christmas, seeming as he'd been involved in the process, but he looked like he was about to climb out the window at the very thought of touching the brightly coloured paper. He'd been fine with it an hour ago in the car. "It's just paper, Carlisle, it's fine."

"Yeah, but…I don't know how…"

"What'd you mean?" I set it down, reaching over to rub his arm.

"You can laugh, but…I've never really wrapped presents before…not properly…" He tried to smile and make it a joke, but it couldn't quite stick, and he looked away again.

I kissed his forehead, my heart squeezing the more I thought about his upbringing – or rather, lack of one. "That's okay; I'll teach you. But you don't have to help if you don't want to," I reminded him.

"…You've already paid me in pizza, so…" Again, he was trying to tease me, but was too unsure of himself to pull it off.

I chuckled anyway. "Your company will be just fine."

He sat next to me at the table, watching as I started the tedious task. He couldn't quite bring himself to touch anything.

"Every year my parents hold a lunch at their place on Christmas day, and usually all the present opening happens there, so we're going to have to drag all this shit back to the car eventually," I sighed, rolling out a sheet of paper and grabbing the scissors.

Watching in silence, he obediently handed me some tape.

"Are you…Will you be okay with that?" I asked slowly, suddenly realising that this could become a major issue if I let it.

He nodded slowly, but it was more to please me than anything.

"Don't lie to me, Carlisle. I want to know the truth now, so we can deal with it," I warned, starting to become frustrated.

"I don't know," he mumbled, looking away and trying to shut down the conversation.

"Well, are you going to lose your shit if I take you?"

"I don't know," he repeated, a little irritated now.

"There's going to be wrapping paper everywhere, is that going to be a problem?" I help up the roll, unable to resist rolling my eyes when he flinched back.

"Don't." All joking was gone now, and he was genuinely not happy about it.

"If you can't handle it on the roll, how on earth are you going to cope with it being thrown about the room? Mum likes Christmas carols too, by the way, so you're going to have to learn to like Christmas ads as well." There was a little too much sarcasm in my voice, but his lack of commitment to the situation was going to drive me up the wall.

"Trust me, Garrett, the worst part of Christmas day is going to be sitting through hours of your father hating me-"

"He doesn't hate you, he's just-"

"I'm not a fucking idiot," he snapped back.

"Well, he's going to be even less impressed with you if I take you and you freak out, and upset everyone," I threatened.

"I'll stay home and you can go by yourself, then."

"Christmas doesn't work like. You can't spend it alone." I gritted my teeth to keep from growling something mean, and I got the sense he was doing the same. Our voices were raised, though mine more so than his.

"I have every other year; I might as well just add this one to the list!" Jumping up from the table, he stormed out of the room, snatching his keys up and making for the front door.

"Carlisle, where are you going?" I demanded, getting to my feet to follow him.

"Home. Before one of us does something we regret," he snapped at me, slamming the front door in my face as I reached to grab his hand.

I groaned and leaned my head against the wood, sighing heavily.

.

.

I'd regretted it the minute the latch in the door handle clicked shut. Over the last three hours, I'd been sitting on the couch waiting for Alistair's abusive text, or to hear literally anything from Carlisle. I assumed that if my boyfriend text me, there be one of two outcomes; either the fight was over, and we were sorry, or we were over.

Falling back on to the couch, I folded my arms over my face to block out the light. It hadn't been that serious, had it? Not enough to end everything, I didn't think. But still, the anticipation was killing me; this was our first real fight.

In the end, I couldn't stand it any longer, giving in and calling him. It rang twice, and then went straight to voicemail as he rejected the call. Groaning, I tried again, and this time it was instant. Fucking hell. "Answer your phone, Carlisle," I pleaded as soon as it beeped, indicating it was recording.

I waited a few minutes, hoping he would listen to it, before ringing again. This time, it rang for a few times, but he eventually picked up. And then I didn't know what to say to him.

"…I'm sorry I yelled at you," he told me after a long pause, breaking the silence.

I rubbed my hand over my face. "Me too, Carlisle. I shouldn't have said what I did; I know this time of year is difficult for you."

"I'm trying, Garrett. I promise I'm trying really fucking hard, and I know it's not good enough, but I'm trying to deal with it…"

Blowing out a long breath, I tried to collect my thoughts. "Look, don't worry about Christmas day, alright? If you're really not comfortable, we can stay home, or just go to my parents for an hour or so. I'm not going to throw you in the deep end by yourself."

"…I feel like a child…" he mumbled, sounding upset.

"Can I come over, Carlisle?" I asked hesitantly, wondering if he was mad enough at me to say no.

"Yes please…"

.

.

He hugged me immediately upon opening the door, wrapping his arms around my neck. "I'm sorry."

I slipped my arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly and resting my chin on the top of his head. "Me too."

Cuddling into me, he pulled me closer. "Stay tonight?"

"Yeah." I kissed him cautiously, still nervous he might reject it.

He didn't, though, tangling his fingers in my hair as his lips gently moved against mine. "Thank you."

I let him lead me inside as he stepped back, keeping hold of his hand. "Where's Alistair?"

"He's with his boy," he told me with a smug smile. "I doubt he'll be home tonight."

"So I've got you all to myself, then?"

"Yep." He squeezed my hand, and I smiled in relief; I didn't want to deal with him if he knew about our argument. Alistair was not going to be impressed. "I haven't told him, by the way," he murmured suddenly, as if reading my mind.

"I think he would have killed me for upsetting you," I chuckled, kissing his forehead.

He sighed quietly, squeezing me a little tighter. "It wasn't you, Garrett. I'm just…it's the whole damn season. I know I'm hard to live with at the moment; that's probably why Allie isn't here very much anymore…I know I'm shitty to be around…"

"Carlisle," I sighed, rubbing his back. "You're not…Come here, sit down." Pulling him over to the couch, I made him sit next to me. "It's alright; we'll deal with it. And you're not bad to be around, by the way, I love you."

"I love you too," he mumbled into me.

Lying in bed next to him hours later, I couldn't sleep. I moulded my body to the shape of his, shuffling closer to wrap my arms around his waist to pull him into me. It had jostled him semi-awake, and he sleepily rubbed my arm, leaning back against my chest. It helped me calm down a little, but I was still stuck.

I wanted Carlisle to have the best 'first' Christmas possible, but I didn't want to freak him out. I hadn't planned on something as small as wrapping paper upsetting him so much, and there was no way in hell I could take him to my family on Christmas day if he worked himself up into a state; it wouldn't be fair.

"…Gar…" he mumbled, resting his head on my shoulder as he rolled over to face me.

"Hmm?"

"…I wanna go with you…to Christmas…"

Even though I was tired, I still chuckled. "You don't 'go' to Christmas."

"…to your Christmas…"

"I want you there too," I murmured, kissing the side of his face. "We'll work this out."