Normal Things (Tate Langdon FanFiction)

Chapter Thirteen:

When I woke up two days later, on Christmas morning, I was surprised to find a note written on a small black chalkboard hung on the wall opposite of my pallet bed. I'd hung it up in middle school as a way to keep my schedule straight, so I wouldn't forget, and after three weeks, I erased the board and haven't touch it in years.

Instead of the blank plane I was used to waking up to, three words were written on it in perfectly neat, boyish handwriting.

Staring back at me, in stark white chalk, was the words 'I love you.'

I don't remember seeing that—I don't remember even looking at the wall since Tate was over two days ago. Pushing the sheets off, I stood up and walked over to the chalkboard, taking a finger and swiping at the bottom corner of the 'y', feeling the chalk dust come off on my fingers. Rubbing my thumb and forefinger together, I smiled.

It's real. He truly loves me. I wiped my hand on my night shorts, and turned in the direction of my bedroom door, walking out into the hallway, feeling the winter cold seeping through the floorboards into my feet.

The living room was subtly dressed in its Christmas clothes: the moderate Christmas tree hiding in the tiny corner in the living room, the white twinkle lights lining the room, the red velvet blanket draped over the back of the couch. I walked deeper into the living room, a childish smile splitting my face from ear to ear. A handful of presents littered the floor under the tree, varying in size and length.

"Merry Christmas, darling," Mom said, walking up behind me. I turned and smiled.

"You too, Mom," I said, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and walking with her into the kitchen, where we made two mugs of hot cocoa and returned to the living room to stare longingly at the pile of treasure under the tree.

Mom took a sip from her mug, made an awkward face, and popped her lips, grimacing. "Wow," she said, "that's hot." I chuckle and lean back on the couch.

"Is Uncle coming over?" I ask, looking over at Mom.

She nodded, taking another tentative sip from her mug, looking back at the tree laden with old, homemade decorations—mostly from Drew's childhood—and pure white tree lights. "He's actually here. He got here late last night because his land lord was harping about something and it made your uncle angry, so he came and stayed with us." Mom looked over her shoulder, nodding her head towards her bedroom where her little brother was walking out into the hallway, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

When he made it into the living room, he looked over at Mom and me and flashed the most childish smile, like the innocence never left him when he did drugs as a teenager. He groggily scrubbed his hand through his thick, curly mop of brown hair, walking into the kitchen. Mom cleared her throat and I chimed up, "Hot chocolate's in here, sleepy head."

Uncle turned a one-eighty, yawned, and took two steps forward before sleepily falling to his knees and then his stomach, lying flat on the floor. He uttered a tired groan, a sort of muffled whine into the carpet, moving his head until his head was teetering on his chin, staring at Mom and me on the couch, staring at him with loving confusion and cheeky smiles.

Mom chuckled and I slid form the couch, crawling over to Uncle. Setting the mug in front of him, I watched as the scent of liquidized chocolate and chili powder caused him to crawl to his knees, opting to sit crisscross, taking the mug into his hands. Uncle raised his hands with the mug folded into his fingers, lifting it to his nose, taking a long drag of the air, a stupid-giddy smile splitting his face.