"Fuck!" Emma drew the entire terminals attention with her shout, "fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!" She couldn't even pretend the fact most weren't native English speakers around her saved her bad manners. That word didn't need translation.

Her first thought was maybe she'd head to the counter, but a glance at the already crowded and frustrated looking line told her that not much could be done there.

Instead, she dialed the phone on a sigh, "Mum," her tears welled up, for a girl who couldn't wait to leave home years ago, she was a mess. "Um"

"Muffin?" Her voice was immediately concerned, man her masking abilities were gone now they were so close. "Why're you crying?"

"Um," Emma sucked in a breath. "The snow, the storm. I'm stuck mum, at the airport. Like I'm not sure I can get to my flat right now, let alone Holmes Chapel."

There was a long pause, "Poppet.."

"I know, it was a risk, I left it to late, like you told me." It had been a bone between them from the moment she booked her flight, her mum immediately pointed out that leaving Christmas Eve morning gave her zero wiggle room. It was what made sense though, she wanted to mazimize her post Christmas time and not have to be working on her thesis while she was there. Her advising professor had suggested she try to get as much done as she could before she went home.

Holmes Chapel was distracting.

"I'm so sorry, Mum." She was blubbering now. Her lip wobble had escalated she was fully sure it was ridiculous that she was a nearly 30 year old woman crying in an airport. She was a doctoral candidate for Christ's sake, she was trying to save the planet. This was not a big deal. Not in the grand scheme of things.

It was just, she'd never spent Christmas without her family, her mum. The only time she didn't come home, they'd gone away, or her mum came to her last year, and she was just so disappointed.

Every choice had a consequence, this one, her trying to be responsible, biting her on the bum seemed really unfair.

"I can try to get out as soon as possible. Maybe just camp at the airport."

"Do what you think is best, and what makes sense, love. We'll be fine here. I'll head to Anne's early to help around." Instead of picking her up in Manchester like they'd planned.

It had surprised her at first, how close her mum and Harry's were. They'd formed some widows club and the amount of wine they drank would concern Emma if she wasn't so damn happy her mum had common company. She also just felt so sad for them before she thanked the stars they had each other.

Speaking of Anne. "Ok mum, I'm gonna try to figure something out. I'll call when I have an update." She had another call to make.

But she was a chicken, a big one, so she texted.
''My flight's cancelled.'

She could have called. That was safe too at the moment, she just knew her voice would give away how horribly sad she was about it, and well, she was still afraid to show her belly.

It was later, when she was resting, pretending to sleep on the closest thing to a bench seat, a window sill, she could find, a response came in.
It was really late or very early and the other people stranded trying to steal sleep gave her very dirty looks at the rude awakening. 

Her own came in his molasses voice, "you cut it too close." But she could hear the smile.

"Pretty sure you have cut it closer, sir."

"Don't call me that. Unless You're flirting . Then I might be into it."

"Gross," she said. "And do I have to flirt? Aren't you a sure thing?" Well, he used to be a sure thing.

"I'll have you know, I do require some wooing. Especially wooing back." His put upon voice made for her eye roll loud. Too bad he couldn't see it.

"Well, then, I'll require wooing too. If I can even make it." She bit her lip, she was hoping it would work out. That her Christmas would not be spent in the airport for nothing, that she would have a redo with her mom.

A redo with Harry.

"I'll book the Boar's Head for a day later then?"

"You have to book it?" She was surprised. Had he always, after the first time? She just figured he called ahead, and was himself, so they made it happen. The idea he thought ahead to their time, planned it, made her feel very romantic, wooed.

"I mean, I like to, it gives me something to look forward to." He breathed at her down the line.

She missed so much about him, like all the time, considering how little time they'd actually spent together. The anticipation, she realized, was also a huge part of it. If the memory of a meal is all you have but once a year, the tasty nostalgia gets you through more than you realize.

But it's small beer to live on.

"Yeah?" God, she sounded wooed even to herself.

"Course." He was smiling audibly, so much for playing it cool.

She'd been pretty cool about it after that text nearly a year ago, in her almost too hangover moment of weakness.

He'd not answered right away- just sent a shrugging emoji and sent her pictures of the aftermath at his mom's house along with boyish complaints about having to help pick up.

Those complaints were followed by moaning about how much he'd overeaten.

He'd even sent a picture of his very slightly distended stomach. He knew, the fucker, pf course that the sight of his flesh, it's fine color and black etching would affect her a certain way. He also knew that Emma would never admit it. Especially not when she was licking her wounds and feasting on her hurt still.

In the past, her flirting was to ignore or to make a joke. This time, she'd puffed out her own belly, flatter from biking and walking more at school and from a year of sorrow, and snapped a picture in their open chat.

Harry's flirt was never coy. "I'd like to kiss you right there!" He'd placed a sticker over just right of her belly button.

Emma didn't say anything. What about his girlfriend?

She didn't ask that.

So, after too much time she supposed for his ego, another text came on the heels of the gray ellipses, "lower down too."

Emma closed the chat and put it on do not disturb.

It was a day before she checked again. At first he glossed it over, then typed her name, then spelled it, then sent memes of sorry.

They didn't flirt much after that, not until later.

Finally, one day when spring hit Amsterdam, when he's mentioned how lovely she looked in the picture she'd sent of her on her bike. She'd known was kind of a thirst trap, but she just liked it, and he'd asked how her day was, and it had been great. She'd made a new friend, and they'd cycled to a neighborhood she'd not visited with great cafes.

He was kind of cute, her new friend, Marko, and he'd taken the photo of her smiling at him really quick, and then they'd tussled over the phone.

She liked the picture of herself, and she might like Marko.

Problem was, she still talked to Harry on a regular basis, well, daily, sometimes all day, basis; But, as far as she knew he wasn't available. She thought while he was running around the world and stages, he was doing so with his beautiful French girl.

Emma didn't let herself look it up.

He didn't talked about Camille, and she wondered sometimes how Camille would feel if she knew they talked all the time. If she knew they had history. If she knew they had history and talked all the time.

If she even knew Emma existed.

So she sent the picture, and Harry was full of conpliments, bubbling over like a pot of milk. Emma wasn't always direct, not in personal relationships, it was a piece of her Englishness she could not push away. Her Dutch friends were so direct; at first she was off put, but now she admired it, envied it.

If she could just say fuck off to politeness and ask why he was flirting with her like this when he had somebody. That it was mean to take the piss like that if he did.

Plus, she'd been on a date, sort of, and she liked the guy, or she could. She'd sent the picture to Harry because Marko had been so sweet about how she'd looked in it.

She'd be a goner for him, If she let herself.

If Harry would let her.

Maybe it was some weird test, to see if he still liked her; the look of her. Conversely, she could just be trying to convince herself he was an asshole being like this with her while when he wasn't single.

Maybe she just wanted to ask him if he was single, outright. She need the courage. Some Dutch courage.

She was going to grab a beer, but instead she poured the shot of vodka and decided to re pay her roommate in a drink out.

"Phljdj ." She sputtered over it. "That's not meant for shooting." She moaned and poured one more. She held her nose on that one.

She nearly held it when she sent the text, like she was plunging into a pool. 'Harry....'

'Yes???'

'Thank you for the compliment, but, what would your girlfriend think of you talking to me like that?'

She sent the text. Then another, because she was done playing this cool. It had been bothering her for months.

'What would she say to the fact that we've been chatting for months?'

She knew she was possibly about to sever their connection, but she just couldn't let it lie, it didn't sit right, like a pea under her mattress.

The ellipses appeared, disappeared, appeared and disappeared. When the phone rang, she threw it across the couch she was so startled.

Then she clicked it off.

When the phone rang again she was "blahdjgg!" Ing over her third shot.

Being direct may not be for her.

"Hullo." She sputtered and knew that she'd done it before the phone had even really connected. That's alright, he often really only voiced the 'lo.' They matched up at the moment.

"You know I'm not with her anymore, right? Not really?"

"Excuse me, what?" Was she still choking on shitty vodka?

"Camille," ok, that word was buried under a pound of pained flesh. He hadn't said it in some time, Emma supposed.

"Um, no, no," She was playing catch up. Pain, what had he said, not together. "I didn't know anything. How long, then?" And a second later the rest of it sunk in, "and not really?"

He sighed then. "We've not been exclusive in like, ages. She hated the distance, me always being gone. I told her she could come. But bad things had kinda happened and been said to her at shows, so she didn't, like, want to. Plus, she had lots of work lined up."

"What's that got to do with exclusive?" Sounded like reasons to end it. End it because they were far apart and not able to see each other with any regularity.

Emma had never ended it on similar grounds though she stood upon them.  It meant no Harry in her life, ever. So maybe she had something else In common with Camille. That unwillingness to put away Harry like things.

His response surprised her though, "um, well she wanted to see other people when I was away. And I wanted to see her when we were together."

"Oh." Was all Emma could muster.

"Honestly, it was just a stop over to break up town. We haven't seen each other in  an age, and I think it was, it wasn't." He gulped. "So much that she wanted to see Other people, as she wanted to see
Other person."

"Does she." Emma shook her head, felt the bitch that she had a hoped for answer. "Does she have somebody."

"Yeah, yeah, seems to." He snorked. That weird hybrid sound he made occasionally out of emotion.

"When?" Is that why he'd started flirting again? Was it he felt free too? or just needed affirmation? She hated being second string.

"Problems? Um, probably fall, definitely a mess by December." When he went home for Christmas alone, and Emma wasn't there. She could have been there. Would have even been her understudy.

He'd initiated contact, noticed her fake smile over New years. By that time, They were well into trovble.

"Why are you telling me this?" Emma asked. She supposed she'd asked.

"Well, you asked." Emma had. "And," he sighed. "I don't want you to feel like the other woman, or something. I don't," he swallowed, "I don't have anybody."

"Anybody steady?" Emma filled in.

"Anybody, really." Harry clarified.

"Are you hoping to have me?" God, that slipped out, so unnoticed she couldn't even go above a whisper. No more Dutch courage.

"I've always hoped to have you." He was talking sotto voce too. "But I miss you a lot. Can we please see each other at Christmas?" He rushed the next part. "It doesn't have to be the Boar's head. Or Boxing Day. I just, just miss you is all." He sighed. "I think I always thought of you as Gemma's friend, then her pretty friend, then my holiday hookup."

She was sure she'd made a sound. It was true enough, she supposed, couldn't deny it.

"Sorry. But before you hang up on me, let me explain. Soon, you were more than that. You were my hope and something to look forward to."

"I looked forward to you too." Emma met his honesty. "All year at times."

"Yeah." He swallowed. "That's probably why I was so mad, though really I was sad. When I thought you didn't want to come be with me."

"Harry." She started on a sigh.

"Oh, I know. You wanted to, but even without....everything, you couldn't just run around with me."

"I wanted to, sometimes."

"I know." He swallowed. "Jesus, this conversation got way deeper than I wanted." He continued. "I really just wanted to tell you that I realized last Christmas, you weren't just Gemma's friend, you were mine. My dear friend."

"Mine too." She was whispering.

"So, I guess, I miss you is simply where I am. I want to see you, at Christmas at least, in whatever capacity you want, but I really miss talking to my friend."

Emma's whole body sighed. She missed him too; his expectations weren't exactly what she wanted to hear. They were kinder.

"Let's plan to at least hang around together, publicly, in December." She hoped he agreed.

"Yeah. Let's do that. And I'd like to talk more often until then. So tell me about your life?"

"Oh, my life is class and not much else. Writing, lots of no sleep and writing." Emma moaned.

"Nah, I don't believe that. My life's boring too."

"Yeah sure, your life on the jet set around the world and onstage, so boring."

"Really, it's a lot of hotel rooms and nights alone and trying to limit talking so my voice is good every night."

"Guess we will be texting a lot."

"I surely hope so. With our boring lives, what ever will we talk about."

"I dunno." She shrugged like he could see her, like he was interested.

"Well, to start, who took the picture you sent today, that got the real smile?" Harry asked

Who had taken that picture? "Oh, my friend Marko and I biked around the city today." Poor Marko.

"Tell me about Marko then, about him and all
Your friends there."

Emma found herself talking for an hour that day, about her current roommates, and advisor and even Marko.

Who was never more than a friend, not after Harry and she started their conversations. Who had time for a new friend when an old flame flares up again?

Months on, they were planning. They'd gotten a room at the Boar's Head. "No Expectations, or funny business." Harry said with his arms up like that meant he was disarmed.

He was so disarming. She really hoped he put those big hands on her, that their business got hilarious. "I'm not afraid of you." Emma flirted, and they were off to the races, jockeying for the best punchline.

Their conversations were like that, but not the one nearly two days after when she was giving up catching her flight. It was indefinitely cancelled, the blizzard grounding the whole airport. The train had started running, and Emma just wanted a real shower and floss. She'd assumed there would be some at home and not packed any.

"Hey." He sounded excited. "You taking off soon? You'll get here just in time. I can even pick you up. And not to be naughty, but we can wait until morning to get you home."

"Hi, Harry." She exhaled and bit her lip hard. Emma was just about to start explaining, but she didn't have to.

"What's that voice?" He sighed. "No flights?
you snowed in?"

"Yeah, yeah," she just let the sob swell like a wave. "I don't think I'm gonna make it. My timeline is too tight."

"That's disappointing."

She fairly hiccuped over that.

"Hey, hey, disappointing, but in no way your fault. You called your mom yet?"

"No!" People were looking at her now. She found a corner to hide her cries. "I'm gonna do it not."

"Want me to stay on the line, for support?"

"That would be amazing, but will be more questions than anything, and I've gotta get this out and find my way home. Shower and sleep." Emma explained.

"Ok. Well call me soon, and I'm sorry. I really wanted to see you." Harry sounded so sincere his voice signed the statement.

The call to her mum was teary, but her ride home was drowsy and the next two days were tears and the queen's speech streaming with her mum and wine, and catching up on sleep. She was coming home from the market, the streets had cleared finally and she couldn't live out of her pantry anymore.

At first, the long legs and low beanie stretched across her hall made her regress to freshers, then it made her pause in fear before the dawning realization came out a gasp.

"Harry! What are doing here?" She was running, almost tripping on her scarf and her oranges rolling from the dropped carrier bag.

"Merry Christmas, Emma." He said when he caught her against his chest. "Tis' the damn season."