Elio-

The air is crisp, and the holiday spirit is in full swing as Gia and I walk down the crowded streets. The store windows are lined up with twinkling lights, and garlands hang from street lamps. I’ve still got the knee brace on, but at least it’s not as bulky as the last one. I can walk longer distances without crutches now, which feels good.

Gia walks beside me, her eyes darting from one shop window to another. She’s buzzing with excitement, looking for last minute gifts. “I still need to get something for Mom and Dad,” she says, more to herself than to me. “I don’t want to get them something lame, you know?”

I laugh softly. “You’ll figure it out. They’ll love anything you get them, you know that.”

She grins but then gets quiet for a moment as we continue walking. I can feel her thinking about something, the way she always does when she is about to ask me something big. Finally she turns to me, her voice softer than before. “Elio, can I ask you something? Like, kind of personal?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

She hesitates for a second, biting her lip before finally blurting it out. “How did you know you liked boys? I mean, like, how did you know you liked Max?”

Her question catches me off guard, but only for a moment. I look down at my hands, thinking about how to explain something that felt so complicated at the time but now feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

“Well,” I start, “it wasn’t something I figured out all at once. I think it’s something that I always knew, but I didn’t really understand until I got older.”

We start walking again, slowly, and I try to put it into words. “I had friends who talked about girls, and I would go along with it because I thought that’s what I was supposed to feel, too. But it never really clicked for me, you know?”

Gia nods. “So, when did it click?”

“I guess it started making more sense around middle school,” I continue. “I realized that the way some guys talked about girls-like the way they had crushes and got nervous around them-wasn’t how I felt. I didn’t feel that way about girls. But I started noticing that I did feel that way about some of the guys I was friends with.”

“Like Max?” she asks.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “No, not Max at first. I had a crush on this guy in eighth grade, actually. But I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t know how to explain it.”

We stop in front of a toy store, and Gia turns to me. “So, when did you know you liked Max?”

I feel a smile spread across my face as I think about him. “That came a little later. We were already friends, right? And I didn’t realize at first, but I started noticing that I wanted to spend more time with him, that I felt different around him than I did around my other friends. And so I decided to try and make something happen, and it did.”

Gia tilts her head. “How did you know it was love? Like, not just a crush?”

“I guess I knew because I couldn’t stop thinking about him, even when we weren't together. He makes me feel…safe, I guess?”

She nods, “That’s cool. I’ve been wondering about it. I mean, I know you’re with Max, and I don;t care that you like boys, but I was just curious about how you knew.”

I smile. “I’m glad you asked, Gia. It’s not always easy to figure it out, but when you know, you just know. And Max…he’s been really great about everything.”

“Do you think it was hard for him to know he likes you, too?” she asks as we walk again, her hands tucked into her pockets.

“Maybe,” I say. “It’s hard for everyone in different ways, but I think we both knew what we wanted and we started getting close. It took some time for both of us to feel okay with it, to tell people and be open about it.”

Gia glances at me. “Well, I think it’s cool. You guys are good together.”

I grin. “Thanks, Gia. That means a lot.”

We keep walking, the cold air biting at our cheeks. And we pass more holiday displays and street vendors selling hot chocolate. 

“So, what do you think Mom would like more?” Gia asks, her eyes lighting up as she spots a display of candles. “Vanilla or cinnamon?”

“Definitely cinnamon. Mom loves anything with cinnamon.”  

The living room is warm, filled with the soft glow of string lights Gia helped me hang up earlier. There’s a small, fake Christmas tree in the corner-nothing fancy, just something we’ve had for years, but it’s enough to make the room feel festive. I’ve always loved this time of year, the way everything seems to slow down, even in the city.

Max is sitting on the couch next to me, his arm slung comfortably across the back, his fingers occasionally brushing my shoulder. He’s leaving in a few days for a family trip, and I wanted to celebrate with him before he goes. It’s our first Christmas together as more than just friends, and I want it to be special. I glance over at him, the way the dim light catches the curve of his smile as he fidgets with the wrapping on the gift for me. He’s nervous about it-he always is when it comes to giving gifts-but I’m just happy to have this time with him.

“I guess we should open them now, right?” Max asks, nudging me slightly.

I nod, grinning. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Max hands me a small, neatly wrapped box, the paper decorated with tint snowflakes. I take it carefully, feeling the weight of it in my hands. I tear the paper open revealing a small, black velvet case. Inside is a silver bracelet, simple and beautiful, engraved with a date-our anniversary.  

I’m speechless for a second. “Max…this is-”

“I know it’s not much,” he says quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanted to get you something special. Something that…you know marks us.”

I smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.”

He beams, clearly relieved. “Good. I was worried you wouldn’t like it or that it wasn’t enough.”

“It’s more than enough,” I assure him, my fingers running over the engraving.

I hand him his gift next, wrapped in the best way I could manage-which means it’s kind of sloppy. Max raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued as he tears through the paper. His eyes widen when he pulls out the camera he’s been talking about. 

“No way,” he breathes, turning it over in his hands, his fingers tracing the smooth metal and buttons. “Elio, how did you-this is the camera I’ve been obsessing over. How did you afford this?”

I grin, feeling a little shy now. “I picked up extra shifts at the bakery,” I say. “I knew how much you wanted it, and I figured…I’d make it happen.”

“You did all that for me?”

“Of course I did,” I reply softly. “I know how much you like photography. I wanted you to have something that’ll let you capture all the stuff you love. Plus, now you can take a bunch of pictures on your trip.”

He sets the camera down for a second, leaning over and pulling me into a tight hug. “You’re incredible, you know that?” 

I hug him back. “I just wanted to do something special for you, like you do for me.”

Max pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Well, mission accomplished. This is… everything. Thank you.”

I smile, leaning in to kiss him softly. When we pull away, Max picks up the camera again, already adjusting the settings, his excitement palpable.

“I can't believe you did this,” he murmurs, still in awe. “I’m going to take so many pictures. Of everything. Starting with you.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Just promise me you won’t make me pose for a hundred of them.” 

“No promises,” Max grins, raising the camera and snapping a quick photo of me before I can protest. The flash blinds me for a second, but I’m laughing, knowing this is just the beginning of countless photos he’ll take.

We sit together on the couch, the warmth of the room wrapping around us like a blanket. Max keeps fiddling with the camera, and I rest my head on his shoulder, content. 

“Hey,” Max says after a while, his voice soft. “When I get back, we’ll do something special, okay? Something's just us.” 

I nod. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The living room is bathed in the soft, flickering lights of the television, casting gentle shadows on the walls. The movie playing is one of those classic holiday films-cheerful and nostalgic. The room is cozy, the winter chill kept at bay by the warmth of the radiator humming quietly in the background. 

Max and I are curled up on the couch, the plush blanket draped over us providing an extra level of comfort. I’m leaning against the armrest, while Max is nestled close, his head resting on my shoulder. I can feel his steady breathing against my neck, his body relaxed and content. 

The soft glow of the TV screen dances across his face, highlighting the peaceful expression he wears. I can tell he has fallen asleep-his breathes are deep and even, and there’s a faint, rhythmic snore that escapes him every few seconds. I shift slightly, careful to not to disturb him, and adjust the blanket. I glance at the clock on the wall-there’s some time before he needs to head home.

Looking down at Max, I can’t help but smile. The movie plays on, but my attention is focused entirely on him. I reach over and gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. The movie’s dialogue drifts through the room, a comforting background noise. The characters on screen are having their own little Christmas adventure, but I’m more interested in the peaceful scene beside me. I gently kiss Max’s forehead.

His phone buzzes quietly on the coffee table, a reminder that he’ll have to get up soon. I reach over and silence it, not wanting to wake him up just yet. Instead, I focus on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. 

As the movie nears its end, I find myself hoping that this moment will just last just a little longer. 

I give his shoulder a gentle shake, just enough to rouse him. “Hey,Max,” I whisper. “It’s almost time to go.”

He stirs, mumbling something incoherent before blinking sleepily. “Hmm? What time is it?”

“It’s getting late,” I say, “You should probably head home soon.”

Max stretches, yawning widely before looking at me with a sleepy smile. “Thanks for letting me crash here tonight. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

I chuckle softly. “It’s okay. It was nice having you here.”

He shifts, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I had a great time, Elio. Really. I’ll get my stuff and head out.”

I help him gather his things, and I walk him to the door. “Drive safe, okay?” 

He pulls me into a quick hug. “I will. See you soon.”

As he steps out into the cold night, I close the door behind him, the quiet of the house settling in once more. I walk back to the couch and settle in, wrapping the blanket around me.

The theater buzzes with the energy of excited parents and siblings, the air thick with the scent of pine and faintly of hairspray and the sounds of rustling programs. We’re sitting in the middle row.Mom,dad,and I are huddled together, waiting for the curtain to rise. Gia’s ballet Christmas recital has been the only thing she’s talked about for weeks. 

“Do you think she’s nervous?” I ask, glancing over at mom.

“She’ll be fine,” Mom says softly. “Gia’s always loved performing. She’ll shine out there.”

Dad nods, his arm draped carefully over the back of Mom’s seat. “She’s got this, You should’ve seen her at practice.”

The lights dim, signaling that the show is about to start. The audience quiets down, and a hush falls over the room. I shift in my seat, focusing on the stage as the first strains of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker music start to fill the space.

The dancer’s glide onto the stage, one by one, in perfect synchronicity. 

When the snowflake scene finally begins, the lights shift to a cool blue, mimicking a winter’s night. I spot her immediately-Gia, in her white tutu and shimming headpiece, moving gracefully with the other dancers. Her steps are light, precise, like she is floating across the stage.

“There she is,” Dad whispers, nudging me lightly. I nod, unable to take my eyes off of her. She’s glowing up there.

The audience claps as the scene transitions, and I find myself clapping a little harder than I intended. My parents exchange a look, both of them beaming.

The recital goes on for another 20 minutes. When the final bow is taken, the audience erupts in applause, and we all stand, clapping for the performers. The lights come back up, and the excited murmur of the crowd fills the theater again.

“Let’s go find her,” Mom says, already gathering her coat.

We make our way to the backstage area, pushing through the crowd of proud parents and beaming kids. When we finally spot Gia, she’s standing with a group of friends, still in her costume, her cheeks flushed with excitement. 

“Gia!” I call out, waving her over.

She turns and, when she sees us, a wide grin breaks across her face. She runs towards us, her tutu bouncing as she moves, and throws herself into Dad’s arms first.

“You were amazing!”  Dad exclaims, lifting her up slightly before setting her back down. “A real star.”

“Thanks!” Gia beams, her eyes bright as she turns to Mom for a hug. Then she turns to me, her expression softening, like she is nervous for my reaction. “Did you like it?”

I smile, pulling her into a hug. “You were incredible, G, Seriously. You nailed it.”

She steps back, her smile growing even wider. “I’m glad you guys could come. I was a little nervous before, but once I got on stage, it was like everything clicked.”

“You didn’t look nervous at all,” I say, ruffing her hair lightly. “You looked like you've been doing it your whole life.”

“I have,” she says, smoothing down her hair. “But thanks, Elio.”

Mom crouches down, adjusting a loose strap on Gia’s ballet shoes. “We’re all so proud of you, sweetie. You worked so hard and it showed.”

Gia smiles. “It was fun. I love dancing, especially in the snowflake scene. It’s my favorite.”

“I can see why,” I say, thinking back to how graceful and confident she looked out there. “You owned it.”

She bounces on her toes, clearly still riding the high of the performance. “Okay, I’m starving. Can we get food?”

Dad chuckles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You earned it. Let’s go.”

As we leave the theater, I glance back at Gia, who’s practically glowing. It’s funny how quickly she’s growing up. I remember when she used to follow me around, trying to copy everything I did, but now she’s doing her own thing. It’s pretty cool to see.