Vol.4 Rewrite, Chapter XVI — First Ever Happy Christmas

Today was Christmas day, but it was far from being peaceful.

It all started with me waking up early in the morning, my mind hazy but already going through the check list of stuff needed to make sure Abby had the Christmas day she always dreamed of when her arms firmly wrapped around me and I felt her face firmly pressed against me. That much was normal, what made me become a bit more awake was that Abby, in her hurry to secure me in place, had ended up faceplanting my exposed rear.

“Abby, get your face out of there,” I groaned in my still sleepy state, squirming as I tried to set myself free. All I got from that is Abby getting her face even more lodged there.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked, her voice muffled and her breath tickling me in an unfamiliar place.

I tried to recall what it was, going through the list of things I had to do out loud when a sharp but not particularly painful sensation make me squeak and flinch.

“A-Abby!?” I hissed, looking back at her, now fully awake.

“Where’s my Christmas morning snuggles?” Abby asked, giving me her puppy eyes and whiny voice while part of my buttocks were still held between her pearly whites. “We talked about this, remember?”

“Haah,” I sighed, a mixture of affection and exasperation washing over me. “I get that you’re annoyed at my forgetfulness, but did you really have to bite my butt?”

“…Sorry,” she whimpered, letting go of my skin to give it a kiss instead, making me blush yet again.

I rejoined her in bed, where we stayed until there was a ring at the door. Soon after, we had Sophie knocking on our door telling us that Mathilda was there to see us.

We hadn’t agreed to meet, but we already knew what Mathilda wanted: she had her “date” with Stephen and wanted to tell us all about it.

Abby and I weren’t quite done with the snuggling, so maybe we were a bit too much laid back, me reclining on the sofa with Abby on top, her ear over my heart, me tracing lazy circles on her back, and our legs interwoven. It really wasn’t anything too much, I think, just us being comfortable in our own home while Mathilda—who sat on the floor to have a better angle of us, gushed about Stephen having complimented her looks—something he did quite frequently, but she insisted that this time it had been with a bit more “feeling”, and how she showed him plenty of her feminine charm. I really doubted that she had shown him anything he hadn’t seen before in her, or that she messed it up somehow, but she was happy and motivated to carry on pursuing him more actively, so I kept quiet about it.

But Mathilda is Mathilda, and the fact that she hadn’t made any comments about us didn’t last long once she was done yapping.

“You know,” she started, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she looked between me and Abby. “If you two ever think about trying it with a third party involved, even if I’m not single anymore, call me, ok?”

 She finished her suggestion with a wink, and I ignored her boldness and lack of shame, maybe just letting out a sharp exhale. I had lost count of how many times she had said something along those lines, so I kept on ignoring her, ready to move the talk along. Not Abby though.

The way Abby moved her head slightly, the shift in her body, the way her tiny hands clutched my clothes… it screamed of trouble without me having to even glance at her face. It was almost palpable, the hum of mischievous energy coursing through her small body.

Here we go again...

Abby was going for payback, and I was already holding up a smile, curious to see what chaos Abby would unleash.

I watched my girlfriend, with a fluid, almost predatory grace, untangle herself from us and slither her way to Mathilda, silently and, dare I say, a bit seductively. She then sat on her knees, tightly pressing her side to Mathilda’s, moving a hand over our friend’s thigh while Mathilda’s chuckles died out as what Abby was doing was setting in her mind, curiosity taking over. Slowly, deliberately, like she sometimes did to me, she combed Mathilda’s hair away from an ear, Abby’s fingers lightly brushing the sensitive skin, Mathilda already starting to show some blushing. Then, leaning in so close that her lips tickled Mathilda’s ear, Abby spoke in a low, purring voice.

“Are you sure about that? Violet and I can be… very intense.”

The effect was instantaneous and spectacular.

Mathilda’s body seemed to have turned into stone, completely stiff and unmoving, not even a breath present, her eyes dilated into an expression of utter shock and confusion. A deep blush started seeping into her face from her neck, tinging her in a shade that I think not even I could reproduce, not even when Abby really pressed my buttons. Then, her body started trembling and her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish out of water trying to breathe, no sound coming out of her.

And then, there was Abby. She stared at Mathilda, her expression holding a smug, sadistic smile gracing her lips, enjoying every agonising moment she was putting our friend through.

I had to intervene before she did anything else that’d make Mathilda spontaneously combust. The fact that Abby was still so close was in itself a risk.

With a sigh, I got up to retrieve my girlfriend, that walking menace.

“All right, that’s enough of you,” I told Abby, picking her up from the floor, her feet dangling in the air as I moved us to go sit back on the couch, a practiced move by this point. “Don’t go teasing people that much, ok? I think you broke her.”

In typical Abby fashion, she stuck her tongue out to me, knowing full well that my scolding hid my own amusement. “She reaped what she sowed,” she told me after, a triumphant chirp as she watched the spectacle that was our friend.

Mathilda was now clasping her face, moving her hands around it as she went through… whatever it was that her mind was conjuring up. Honestly, I don’t even want to know, because I’m sure that the tamest of them all were probably far wilder than anything Abby and I have ever done. And that was too much for the pure romantic that she was who always saw Abby and I being sweet loving towards one another and would become a blushing mess if we simply asked her how she’d like her first kiss to be. Whatever was going through her mind was… quite clear, I guess.

“Pfft, hehe!”

My girlfriend really was a menace, and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

The doorbell rang again, and Sophie appeared, wondering out loud if it was Claire again before noticing the miserable state Mathilda was in.

“What’s the matter with her?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Too much of an imagination?” Abby giggled, glancing at me.

Sophie rolled her eyes, clearly not wanting to delve deeper into the matter, and opened the door. Immediately there was a commotion as it was indeed Claire, and she was overjoyed for meeting “her girl” right as the door was opened for her.

“Claire, you’re too early!” Sophie scolded, her air being squeezed out by her over-enthusiastic friend. “I’m not even done getting ready yet!”

“That’s why I’m here, sweet pea!” Claire announced, shaking Sophie side to side in her hold as she worked her way inside the apartment. “I’ll pick the clothes for you!”

“Absolutely not!” Sophie hissed. “I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself! You sit there and wait! Your sister is here.”

“Oh she is?” Claire hummed, looking directly at the living room and spotting us observing the scene while her sister was still having a fit. “Hi girlies!”

She rushed to us, Abby and I holding our breath as we already grew used to this song and dance. Anytime Claire came around, she had to squeeze us in a tight hug, our faces pressed against her bust.

“What’s the matter with her?” she asked, still holding us in a loose hug, looking at her sister.

Mathilda shot up, announcing that she was going home, leaving, still shaking and still as red as before.

“…I think you might have gone a bit too far,” I told Abby.

“…Agreed. Oops.”

I wish the messiness would have ended there, but it didn’t. It was getting late in the day and we’d soon have to start preparing our lunch, so Abby and I got to decorating the place for the family dinner. Claire initially watched, but then offered to help us.

She tossed her coat to the side, revealing her red top, one that I had understood to be her favourite as it was the one she often wore. The same one that she wore when we introduced her to Sophie that showed a lot of cleavage and her lower stomach? That one. Even in the cold of winter she wore it.

Anyway, things seemed to have gone back to normal, Abby and I hanging some decorations together, Abby lifting me up to give me a boost in height so I didn’t have to be climbing on top of chairs, when there was a ripping sound. We looked at Claire who had her arms up and her head hanging down.

“Damn it!” she hissed, turning towards us. The front of her top must have gotten caught on something and tore, her chest now being fully exposed for us to see. With a very annoyed look, she grabbed the torn fabric and shook it in her hands, making her chest wiggle unwittingly in turn. They really were big and well-shaped, but I also thought that they looked heavy and that they’d potentially get in the way of simple tasks. “Just my luck! And it had to be my favourite top too!”

She darted past us, her chest bouncing up and down with each step, Claire making no effort to hide it, and huffing about having to ask for Sophie to let her borrow some clothes. That’s when things went back to being messy.

“They are really big and bouncy, aren’t they?” I heard Abby say in a low, almost breathless voice.

My head snapped at her, and I saw how flushed she looked. The nasty, bitter taste of jealousy filled my mouth as I spoke next.

“If you think her boobies are so nice, why don’t you go ahead and ask her to…”

Luckily, I caught myself before finishing, but the damage was done. Abby was looking at me, the realisation of what she said and how it made me feel dawning on her.

“Babe, no! It’s not like that!” she said hurriedly, making vague moves with her hands. “it’s just… I was just making an observation is all! You know I only have eyes for you!”

Rationally, I knew that, but emotionally? I still felt slighted, betrayed even, that Abby had such a reaction from seeing another woman’s chest.

“I’m sorry Abby, I want to be alone for a minute,” was all I could tell her for the moment, retreating to our bedroom to try and calm down.

About a quarter of an hour later, after Sophie and Claire left, Abby came to me, knocking on the door gently before coming inside and taking a seat by me.

“…I know that I’m abnormal,” I began. “I know that it’s not normal that I’m so uninterested in anyone that isn’t family or you but… I know that, but it still hurt me seeing you… react like that…”

“I know Violet, and I’m really sorry for that,” Abby hushed, leaning her head on my shoulder and taking one of my hands. “But you also understand that it wasn’t a voluntary reaction, right?”

“Mmh-hmm…”

“…And that I don’t love you any less because of that? Because I love you to bits. Always have, always will.”

“I know, I just…”

“…Just?”

“…Would you… do you ever wish that I… that I had a bigger chest?”

“Nope, never,” she said, fast and firmly. “I really mean it when I say that your size is perfect. What would I even do if you were as big as Claire? Or even as Mathilda?”

“…You’d have more to play with…”

“Violet, stop!” she told me, her voice now becoming more of a scold, even if it was still laced with love and understanding. “Remember when I snuggle with Sophie sometimes?” she asked, grabbing my face between her hands and locking eyes with me. “It’s a pain! Her boobs occupy half the couch and leave me with no place to be, or makes it hard to breathe! I really mean it, I literally have no place to put my face sometimes! And your chest Violet, it’s just the perfect size. For my hands. And no, you can’t say that it’s because I have tiny hands, that’s not a valid excuse. I wouldn’t even know what to do if they were that big.”

That last part was delivered with a chuckle that got a stifled laugh out of me as I felt like I was about to say exactly that.

“I’m dead serious when I tell you this,” she said, moving slightly behind me and cupping my chest, gently starting to play with it. “Your breasts are perfect for me. Absolutely perfect. Even if Claire’s or Mathilda’s, or any other girl’s are ‘very nice’ in general, I still prefer a smaller chest like yours. In the very same way that you prefer my short stature due to how cute it makes me look and how perfectly nice I am to snuggle with, ok?”

My tension, that had been easing up as she talked, now practically melted away. There was still something nagging me, but Abby had her ear pressed against my back, so she could hear my heartbeat and knew about it, that being the second point she’d be addressing.

“Look, babe,” she told me, her voice softening up, now being a gentle caress, just like she was doing with her hands. "I am totally, completely, utterly dedicated to you. I love you to bits. And I always will, you know that.”

“I love you too honey. I’m—”

“Shush! I’m not done talking!” she said, resting her chin on my shoulder. “But sometimes... my body might just react to things. Like seeing a little bit of unexpected cleavage, or just... a really striking physical feature. It's not on purpose. It's not a choice. It's just a flicker, a sensory input. But those flashes, those small reactions... they're never, ever a sign that I don't love you. They're never a sign that I want anyone but you. Because I don't, Violet. Never. You're my everything."

I waited a few seconds to make sure Abby was done talking. Seeing that she was quiet, I finally spoke what I wanted to say.

“I love you too, honey. I’m sorry for having lost my cool despite knowing all that. And… I understand that you sometimes might have… ‘small flickers’ as you say. Even if I don’t ever have them myself.”

“…Wanna hear something funny?”

“What?” I asked, sensing that Abby was ready to return to our normal.

“When I saw Claire’s boobies, I—”

“Please, don’t use that word,” I asked, my chest bubbling with an immature giggle.

“Hehehe, ok. When I saw Claire’s breasts, I did think they were big, bouncy and nice, but you know what the main thought was that almost immediately was all I could think of?”

“…What?”

“That I wanted to play with yours,” she said, punctuating her statement with a squeeze to my chest.

“Pfft, fufu! Really?”

“Yup. You know I’m being dead serious.”

“Pfft, fufu! Ok, I get it. You can stop fondling them now,” I told her, placing my hands over hers.

Abby however had other plans. She wrapped her legs around my waist, asking if she could play with my chest for just five more minutes with a soft, comfortable voice.

I relented, finding a strange satisfaction that Abby was so reluctant to letting them go. I instead asked if she’d like for me to turn around and face her.

That devolved in more time of us in the bedroom, Abby expressing physically her appreciation for my modest chest as she played and nuzzled it, making me feel even more assured in our relationship as I held her tight. Just the fact that seeing something so objectively “better” than what I had made her want me instead was incredibly morale boosting.

Not exactly the wholesome thought to be had while doing the dishes with the whole family gathered around after the Christmas dinner, but having Abby humming away on top of her step stool as she helped me take care of that chore had launched me into this nostalgic trip, and that was the spot I was at now.

After that point of the day, we resumed decorating the place, and it had paid off.

 It was, and I’m not hyperbolizing, completely overboard. Every surface seemed to shimmer, every corner to twinkle. Abby had insisted on no less than three strings of multi-coloured LED lights crisscrossing the ceiling, casting a playful, almost chaotic glow that competed with the softer, warmer fairy lights meticulously draped over the bookshelves. Tinsel, in obnoxious shades of silver and gold, sparkled from every available nook, catching the light and scattering it in blinding flashes.

Our Christmas tree? A behemoth that practically touched the ceiling, a riot of traditional reds and greens, punctuated by splashes of iridescent blue and bright gold. It was adorned with every ornament we owned, and several new, frankly gaudy, ones Abby and I had impulse-bought, her enthusiasm having gotten the better of me. There were classic glass baubles beside homemade glitter-covered pinecones, tiny snowmen next to oversized velvet bows. A collection of battery-operated reindeer, each with a suspiciously cheerful grin, lined the coffee table, their tiny red noses blinking in unison. A plush, slightly lopsided Santa Claus sat by the hall leading to the bedrooms, one arm extended in an eternally welcoming gesture.

It was, in short, the very definition of clichéd Christmas cheer. If a movie set designers had gone rogue and been given an unlimited budget, this would have been the result. Mathilda would certainly love it, especially when she saw the place today before we started decorating. It was a visual assault, the lack of subtlety, the sheer volume of festive ornamentation.

And yet, as I watched Abby, her head tilted slightly as she hummed with a bright smile, a soft, profound warmth spread through me, entirely unrelated to the ambient temperature. This was Abby's first truly happy Christmas. Growing up, her Christmases had been marked by cold detachment and emotional scarcity. This year, for her, it wasn't just about decorations; it was about creating the vibrant, joyful, over-the-top experience she'd always dreamed of. Every blinking light, every shimmering piece of tinsel, every slightly-too-large ornament was a testament to her unbridled joy, her blossoming happiness, and her fierce determination to infuse our home with the warmth she'd always craved.

And because it was her happiness, her exuberance poured into every gaudy, wonderful detail, it was, quite simply, perfect. The living room was a vibrant, sparkling testament to the joy of my everything. And it had all been entirely worth it.

“Erm, girls?” Sophie called softly, breaking me away from my trance. She was holding our clandestine guest, Oliver, against her chest. He had that happy cat expression, pleased to be cradled against something that was certainly soft and warm. We weren’t supposed to have him as it was forbidden for Abby’s family to have pets in the apartment, but no one in the family had the heart to leave him alone at home on Christmas night. “Need help with anything?”

Abby and I had things covered, but just as Sophie had gotten herself comfortable on the couch talking with my dad and Will, the doorbell rang. Abby and I had our hands wet and covered in suds, so we asked for one of them to open the door.

Sophie got up, delivering Oliver to my dad for the time being.

From the door came a commotion as Claire had stopped by and was delivering another show of affection to Sophie despite the two having been together until about two hours ago. There was however a gasp in surprise coming from her that made me and Abby turn our heads. Moments later, a familiar figure we hadn’t seen in a while appeared.

“Paul!” Abby cheered, immediately drying up her hands and jumping off her stool, rushing to give her lifetime friend a hug.

“Hey there Abby,” he said, returning the hug, his voice as low as I remembered it but carrying a warmth in it. “It’s good to see you so cheerful.”

“I am cheerful! Right, babe?” she said, looking at me while giving Paul a hug that surely was too tight to be comfortable. Well, I say that, but he is Claire’s boyfriend, so… yeah, he was probably used to it by this point.

“R-right,” I agreed, not having expected being brought into the conversation so soon. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, it’s fine, I just came to pay Abby and Sophie a visit. Me and my missus have plans for the evening.”

“I also came bearing gifts!” Claire announced, raising three bags over her head. “One for each of my girlies!”

And they were colour-coded too, the bag she said was for me being violet, the one for Abby golden, and the one for Sophie was silver. At least the colours felt very purposefully picked.

They moved to the living room, and I noticed that there was someone else who had come with them: Mathilda.

“Hello again,” I told her.

“Y-yeah,” she said, very muted and looking away, her face turning red. “Hello.”

She was still suffering from the aftermath of Abby’s prank, huh? Well, it was a very heavy blow she received, far heavier than what Abby had ever delivered to me. The reason was clear, Abby exercised restraint with me because I always showed restraint myself, while Mathilda… well, while I think Abby did go overboard, Mathilda had indeed reaped what she sowed.

She also decided to give me a hand at doing the dishes, silently taking my side after putting down a bag with mine and Abby’s name on it. I did the washing while she dried them and placed them on the rack.

“So, erm,” Mathilda said. “What’s with the deco?”

Seeing the place gave her back some of her more usual energy.

“It sure is something, huh?”

“Yeah, looks like a movie set.”

I was about to tell her about Abby’s wishes for decorating the place, but the living room erupted into chaos.

“Claire!” Sophie shouted while the men looked away from her, Abby covering her face but clearly laughing. “What’s the meaning of this!?”

Claire simply laughed and hugged Sophie.

“It’s for the day you finally realise how pretty you are and get comfortable with it,” Claire hummed, sounding honestly sweet instead of her usual teasing or flirtatious behaviour.

Sophie was dumbfounded, huffing and puffing despite having her arms around Claire, only contributing to Claire’s amusement. Then, Claire pulled away, gasping that it was getting late and they still had to visit Mathilda’s auntie, leaving Sophie frozen in a hugging position. Claire, like a storm, came out of nowhere, and disappeared just as fast, not even letting me tell Mathilda about the decoration.

“You done?” Abby asked, hopping and leaning over the small wall separating the kitchen from the living room.

“Yeah. Erm, what was that shouting about?”

“Oh, that?” Abby said with a giggle. “One of Claire’s gifts for sis were a pair of boyshorts.”

“What’s new about that?” I asked with an arched eyebrow, knowing very well that at least half of Sophie’s underwear were exactly that.

“Well, these ones are a bit see-through and have a lacy flower pattern.”

“Oh. Ooh…”

Yeah, that’d explain Sophie’s explosive reaction. Sophie was almost as prudish as my grandmother was, and even more so than me when I met Abby.

“Yeah, and she opened it in from of our parent and Paul. She even lifted them up for everyone to see.”

“Please, stop telling me about it,” I said, suffering from second-hand embarrassment.

“Speaking of which, I also want you to open my present!” Abby said, going back to hopping behind the wall, urging me to go to her side.

She practically pulled me as I left the kitchen, planting me on the couch and placing a neatly wrapped box on my lap to open. Have you ever gotten a present to nicely-packed that you feel bad about opening it? Well, I certainly did. It was staring at me, and undoing it almost felt as bad as accidently stepping on Oliver’s tail.

Inside was something made of very soft wool and pink that, once I took it out of the box, verified that it was a turtleneck.

“Since I got this one from you, I decided to get you a new one,” Abby sang, bobbing up and down on the tip of her toes as she pointed to the pearly-white turtleneck that used to be mine. “What do you think? Please, go put it on right now!”

“Right now?”

“Yeah silly,” she said, already pulling me out of the couch just a minute after having planted me there. “Right now.”

I was guided—pushed, really, inside our bedroom and told again to change.

I let out a sigh as I took the shirt I had on off. Having this moment of silence made me realise how absolutely drained I felt. Not in a bad way, mind you, just… running on the fumes of fumes I guess. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I’d be out until at least ten hours later, that’s for sure.

The turtleneck was very comfortable and soft, and I might also add, made me look good. Pink actually worked quite well on me it seems. Mathilda would certainly be envious of my new sweater. It was loose enough to not feel restricting, but tight enough to complement my silhouette and not get caught inadvertently. A very thoughtful gift, as to be expected from Abby.

Our family also seemed to think that I looked good, because compliments rained down, while Abby was silent but clearly happy to see how good I looked and how I seemed to have liked it.

I sat by her, Abby squirming closer to me and asking if I liked it while petting Oliver who had claimed her lap as his napping spot. I placed an arm around her and rested a hand over hers as I told her that I had loved it and delivered a kiss to her forehead. Before I knew it, there was the sound of a shutter snapping, and when I opened my eyes, everyone had their eyes on us and were smiling while dad held his phone up. Apparently, I had nodded off when I rested my head on Abby’s and drifted away.

I told dad to delete the photo, but once Abby saw the picture of us, her eyes told me everything I needed to know before she even opened her mouth.

“Haah, fine,” I relented under her pleading gaze. “Send her a copy of it when you can.”

“Yay!” Abby cheered before passionately kissing me in front of our whole family, everyone looking away and pretending not to see—and hear, the kiss I was being given. “You’re the best!”

No, she’s just too hard to say no to.

“Hey! Hey! Where’s my gift?” she demanded, hopping by me.

I sighed with a smile and went to retrieve her gift that she had no hesitations to tear the wrapping of. And here I was so satisfied that I had wrapped it so nicely.

“Eeh-hehe! I love it!” Abby cheered, making me laugh. Immediately, she put it on, the knitted ushanka that had cat eyes and ear, the colour of the wool making it hard to tell where her hair started and the hat began. She turned to Oliver and pointed at her head with both hands. “Oliver, look! We match!”

Oliver gave her the most uninterested “well, good for you” look that I had ever seen someone produce. Well, he’s a cat, as I sometimes forget, so it just comes with the territory.

Next thing that blur of energy that was my dear partner did was almost shove her phone into my face to show me the picture dad took of us while I was distracted.

In the picture were just us two and Oliver, Abby looking at my happy sleepy face with loving eyes, her feet twirling in the air with me gently embracing her. It was filled with the essence of us.

That photo will forever be a treasure of ours, a celebration of our love and of Abby’s first ever happy Christmas. The first of many. I’ll be sure of that for as long as we are together.