Yay, another chapter. Shoutout to my friend, Jessie, who convinced me to keep going with this story. I have an idea of how it will end I think. Still trying to get back into the groove. Thank you everyone for reading!

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Octavia and I had decided on a movie at the Roffans, which I considered as one of the most normal activities of mine as of late. And maybe a part of me kind of missed that simplicity, having friends to watch movies with. It was a luxury I realized I hadn't experienced since that night I'd spent at Bellamy's.

A very different kind of story.

Octavia had told me to arrive just before six, and as I pulled up to the house at 5:45, I found myself reflecting on the last time I'd been inside, sitting at a table of bread rolls and across from a big brother's wafting hostility.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

I raised my hand to knock on the door, but it swung open before my knuckles had the chance. Octavia stood on the other side, smiling broadly in . . .

"I um, I think I came overdressed," I said as I appraised her attire, a complete pajama ensemble patterned in snowflakes. I knew we'd said casual, but I suddenly found myself feeling self-conscious in my jeans and white sweater.

"That's okay," she said, ushering me inside the house. "You might get cold, but we'll have blankets."

I cast her a strange look, trying to discern the reason for the sudden nervousness I was detecting in her features. I narrowed my eyes at her. "What do you mean?"

She smiled tightly. "I'll explain that. But first, follow me."

Without waiting for an answer, she led me through the house, as beautiful as I remembered. We passed under the vaulted hall and beyond the large stairway, through the living room with its comfortable couch and reclining chairs occupying a large, red Persian rug. We were just short of the back door when Octavia turned back to me.

"So," she began. "This is going to go one of two ways. Either you're going to hate this whole idea and leave instantly, which will of course make me feel like a complete idiot and regret ever thinking of this, or. . . you're going to like it."

Sudden worry filled me and I stared at her, afraid to ask.

"But I will need you to close your eyes."

"Octavia-"

"Please? It's nothing lethal, I swear."

After a moment, I obliged. Only when they were shut did I feel Octavia take my hand. I heard the hush of the back door slide open.

"Okay, no peeking. And no opening them until I say. There's one step here-good. All right." She turned me into a certain direction.

I caught her audible exhale of breath, as if she'd forgotten to breathe. "Okay. Open your eyes."

With my nerves in knots, I complied.

The breath I'd been holding left in a small gasp.

The backyard was a wide stretch of patio, situated beneath an elegant wood awning. White couches made up the perimeter, but I wasn't looking at any of that. I was too focused on the strings of white lights tethered to the awning, dangling down like suspended stars. On the space in the center of the patio that had been cleared away to make room for a small Christmas tree adorned in multicolor bulbs. Only vaguely did I take note of a small projector on an end table, lighting up the side of the house. The brilliant Netflix logo covered half the wall.

I blinked at it all stupidly.

"I hope you're not mad," Octavia said, her voice taught with nervous energy. "I mean, I know everything you said about the tree and the lights not mattering was valid, and you were being super profound and sentimental like Bell can be sometimes, but on the other hand, I'm fourteen, and not having a tree is like . . . having a snowball fight in the desert; it's just not acceptable."

I shook my head, my throat tightening with too many emotions to name. "No It's . . . it's beautiful," I whispered, taking my eyes away just long enough to look at her. "Octavia, how did you do this?"

With a grin, she shrugged. "I had some help."

Just then, the echo of footfalls sounded, and I turned to catch Bellamy stepping outside, one arm gripped around a stack of folded blankets. "All right, Maureen told me there should be at least two here that don't have any holes in them," he said, looking between her and his sister before tossing them onto one of the couches.

My voice still seemed to be lost somewhere inside and I stared at them both, overwhelmed by the gesture. "You did this for me?" My voice sounded small to my own ears.

Octavia's smile grew impossibly wider. "I knew it! I knew you'd like it! Wait," she paused. "Or do you hate it?"

I shook my head again, taking the scene in once more, the plethora of starburst lights, the simple tree adorned in simple ornaments. The words Merry Christmas! were written on a larger ornament that dangled from a center branch.

My vision suddenly blurred, but I blinked quickly, hiding unshed tears in her hug. "Thank you," I whispered. I turned to Bellamy, his eyes seeming to catch the lights. The idea of reaching up and hugging him too halted me awkwardly in my tracks. "Thank you."

He smirked. "I can't take much credit. It was all Octavia's idea. I just helped set up."

I tried to swallow the barrage of feelings and was grateful when Octavia clapped her hands together, calling us to attention. "All right, let's get this started." With that, she snatched up one of the blankets and plopped onto the couch facing the wall. The tree was set up closer so as not to occupy the center of the screen.

Octavia gestured to the spot next her, looking at me.

An overwhelming sense of gratitude washed over me as I grabbed a light-blue fleece blanket and sat next her, the screen from the projector filling my vision. Octavia leaned over and picked up a big bowl I hadn't seen, obscured before by the tree. It was full of popcorn. She set it in my lap. "All right, what movie?"

I took a handful from the bowl. "You pick."

"No, this is about you and what you want to watch. Do you like Christmas movies? Or is that too much?"

"No, It's perfect. But you choose the movie." I tossed a piece of popcorn into my mouth. "I trust your judgment."

She pinched her lips together, deliberating as though this were a job to be taken very seriously. "No pressure. Okay. We'll go with a classic."

The introduction to It's a Wonderful Life was just beginning to start when the back door opened and closed again. Bellamy reappeared, coming around the couch as he balanced three cups in his hands. He distributed before taking a seat on the patio floor.

I dumbly stared into the cup, my eyes tearing at the wisps of heat.

"Throw me a blanket, O," Bellamy said.

Octavia reached over and grabbed the last blanket, passing it to me to pass to him. He leaned his back against the couch cushion beside me.

I looked between him and Octavia again, that wave of gratitude suddenly overwhelming as I threaded my fingers tightly around the warm mug of hot cocoa he'd placed in my hands.

*********

A part of me wasn't really watching the movie. My mind kept wandering around, between seemingly too many things to count. The mere aroma of the hot chocolate kept catching in my eyes and giving me the absurd desire to cry.

I pushed it away and leaned back, as far as the couch would allow, overly aware of the presence occupying the ground beside my feet. He watched the movie intently, as did Octavia, but I couldn't seem to quiet the chatter in my mind, or the nervousness squirreling in my chest uncomfortably.

"Strange, isn't it?" Clarence the Angel chimed. "Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?"

Almost reflexively, my gaze wandered to Bellamy, whose eyes, I found, were already on me. In Clarence's words, I felt something unspoken pass between us, losses that were painful for different reasons. Loved ones who died. Loved ones who didn't love who they were supposed to. I caught it, like the trail of lights exploding in his dark eyes.

I looked away.

About thirty minutes into the movie, I noticed Bellamy seeming to get uncomfortable on the floor. I was just about to ask if he wanted to switch spots when Octavia beat me to it. "I feel like these cushions are starting to swallow me," she said, hopping off the couch with her white blanket bound around her.

Bellamy smirked and pulled himself onto the couch next to me.

I scooted over to make room, suddenly feeling like it was too late to join Octavia. No, I told myself that I would be casual. We were two friends on a couch.

I tried not to be reminded of the last time we were in the same situation.

In my periphery, Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest, letting out a contented sigh.

I pulled my blanket more tightly around me, as if it acted as a physical barrier. But the movement caught his attention, and his eyes swung back to me. "You still cold?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding oddly high to my own ears. "Are you?" He'd lost the blanket within the first few minutes of the movie, looking comfortable in his dark hoodie.

He shook his head dismissively. "I'm good."

Words faltered. "Good."

He smirked, the light trapping the shadow of a dimple in his right cheek. "Not that again."

I pulled in an even breath, wishing very much I'd gotten the floor instead. The awareness that I was directing to my shoulder alone was enough to distract me from the movie. I struggled to put my emotions back in their place, their bombardment at his proximity unnerving.

When, exactly, had that started? And how could noticing it once seem to suddenly shift everything after?

Don't go there, I ordered myself. I couldn't dig into what I wanted to leave buried without raising questions I never intended to answer.

I shut my eyes in an attempt to clear away the mental fog.

"You okay?" Bellamy asked, quietly, that studious look back in place. "You seem distracted."

I gave him a forced smile. It felt transparent, something he'd see right through. "Yeah. Just . . . lots of thinking."

"Anything to do with your mom?"

I was painfully aware of my own pulse and took a deep breath to calm my heart rate. "Not this time."

A long moment passed. "Is it something you want to talk about?" he asked, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

I tightened my grip on the blanket and slowly shook my head.

It was the first time I realized I felt like I couldn't talk to him. He'd become easy to tell the worst things to, knowing parts about me that no one else had been around to see. He knew all my deep secrets, save for this new, nameless one. It kept insisting on wedging its way in and disturbing my equilibrium, setting what little of my world that had begun to stabilize back off balance.

I could feel Bellamy's eyes on me, appraising my expression, but I kept my attention pointedly on the film I was no longer following. I stared, even after my eyes had begun to burn.

When the end credits finally rolled by, the only part I really remembered was the little girl who'd asked her father to paste the petals of a dying flower back together again. He hadn't; instead, he'd simply shoved the fallen petals deep in his pocket. Then he'd returned the flower to the girl, acting as though nothing were wrong and as though it weren't missing pieces of itself.

*********

It felt as though I'd hugged Octavia more this week than I'd hugged anyone over all of winter break, but when I went to leave, I couldn't help but embrace her once more for everything she'd done. It dawned on me that not only was her friendship uncomplicated, but that it might've been the only friendship in my life that was so.

Or maybe the mess of my own emotions was starting to make me overly sentimental.

Before I left, I thanked Maureen for letting us take over her and Mr. Roffan's backyard. Octavia saw me to the front door.

Standing on their front porch, I was able to take a deep breath of the cold night air for what felt like the first time this evening. Yet when I started for my car, I was slightly bewildered to find Bellamy following me out.

That sense of being overly conscious of everything around me came back. I was painfully aware that Bellamy and I were alone. That it was dark. That Bellamy was scrutinizing me by the time we came to my car, with an expression that told me he saw more than I wanted him to. Maybe we'd started to know each other better than either of us had thought.

We walked in silence to where I'd parked, paralleled across the street. Only when we'd reached it did I notice I'd been jingling my keys nervously between my fingers. The awkwardness felt overbearing.

Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest, lips pressed in a thin line. "How'd you like tonight?" he asked. I knew that wasn't the question on his mind, but I played along, trying to salvage the sense of normalcy I'd had with him just a few weeks ago. "It was amazing. Really. Thank you."

He gave a quick bob of his head. "O was pretty adamant about the whole thing."

That got a smile out of me. "She's special, which you obviously know. I'm glad her and I are friends."

He nodded again.

Everything in me wanted to cringe. Since when did we strive for small talk? The attempt at simple, friendly conversation between two people who'd divulged the most painful things to one another -whether deliberately or by accident- didn't feel natural. I could practically see the mutuality of that sentiment in his eyes, because a moment later he dropped his shoulders. "Look, it doesn't take a genius to tell that there's something going on. I know you said you didn't want to talk about it, but if you ever want to," he shrugged, "you know where to find me."

I gave him a smile, one that felt sincere, despite the offer I knew I couldn't, for the first time, take him up on. "Thank you, Bellamy. For everything."

He looked at me for a long moment, trying to discern whatever it was he glimpsed in my eyes. Then he dipped his chin, resigned.

He wasn't badgering me with questions. He didn't try to force an answer out of me. He didn't pry.

But he still saw the coolness I was painfully trying to sell.

And he wasn't buying any of it.