Fragments - KathNiel One Shots

After All

12-26-17

I wrote this before I wrote 'Kislap'.

Late because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to end it. Still, Happy Holidays! Make the most out of it!!!!!💙💙💙

Genuinely asking for future one shot ideas. I'm seriously so aloof my drafts are piling and I'm finishing none of them! Help! 😂

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Kathryn hummed lightly as her nails tapped on the plastic table. With one hand on her chin, and the other rhythmically syncing with the loud music booming from the café's speakers, it was easy to forget just why she was there.

"I just want you for my own..." She sang lowly, eyes completely taken by the number of families around her; all smiles, no worries, and no traces of mishaps.

But that was the Christmas spirit, right? In the Philippines, it was an unwritten rule that everyone latched on to — no one was supposed to be disheartened on such a blissful season. No one was bound to feel any form of remorse amidst the loving and laughter.

When she fled for Canada without an intention to look back, that rule evidently withered.

For the past three years, she spent Christmas alone. Huddled in the thickest jumper she could find at the thrift store. Sipping hot chocolate while her pair of orbs painted the same color watched the fire eat the wood away.

Around her, not a trace of celebration. Only the piling buckets of glimmering snow showed evidence of the season.

"Merry Christmas." People would greet as they went past her at the grocery store, and not intending to be rude, her lips learned to murmur the words with as much cheer as she can.

But that was the end of it.

Going back here only made her see what she missed.

The carols, the gifts, the commemoration, the happiness.

It's been years since she felt her heart flutter. It's been years since she had her eyes brimming with tears; with all the reasons pointing to pure joy.

"Kathryn...." Those familiar, pink lips shivered.

She was home.

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Gulp.

Then another.

The quaking form struggled to shuffle into the unoccupied seat before her. Just as he had a hard time bringing the tall cup of mocha frappucino to her table.

The soft, white cream littering the once clean plastic cup cover said it all.

After his imminent trouble, there he sat.

Staring.

It must've been a good ten minutes. He studied her face, judged her choice of clothing, ravelled along her stature in the most adoring way. His stare was not of desire, at least not the one that leads to ruins.

The fluffy whipped cream has deflated by the time she reached out for a taste.

It seems that he figured it was the best time to speak.

As she was distracted.

But not even a train wreck could distract her.

Not now.

"You're here...."

Even just for a short while.

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