I still think to this day that the fosters killing off grace was bullshit. because if their Thing they wanted to get across was showing that brandon can't always be a white knight to all of his love interests and try and "Save" them from their predicament is just ridiculous because I remember seeing someone on reddit saying that was likely the point they were trying to get across but it's just. Distasteful. especially in the episode where she dies, there is the five year flash forward where brandon is now engaged to eliza. that's like the series finale of how I met your mother (havent watched but I pretty much know the ending) where they killed off tracy and then have ted and robin end up together in that same episode because time went by. it's poorly written. especially that in the flash forward episodes, they also still hint at callie and brandon when that ship has been dead in the ground since season 3... like you kill off brandon's only good relationship that gave him development into a likable character, then you kill that off to hint at fucking br*llie one more time and have us see brandon get married to this girl who we have No Fucking Clue about..... give me a break
Summary: When Christmas comes wrapped in doubt and comparison, a handmade gift carries more warmth than anything bought in a store. Soft snow, tired hands, and the reminder that love is measured in effort—not price tags.
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The first snow of December drifted past my window like glittering confetti, settling against the glass and frosting the world outside in silver. Most people loved snow because it meant Christmas lights and cozy sweaters, but for me, it meant extra layers to fight the cold that snuck through the cracks in our tiny apartment.
Mom was at her second job against, pulling a double shift at the diner. My little brother was sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that had seen better days, doing homework by the light of our crooked little lamp. The scent of instant ramen clung to the air, and the heater made a tired rattling sound every time it kicked on. Christmas was two weeks away, and we hadn’t even put up a tree yet. Not because we didn’t want one, we just couldn’t. Rend came first. Always. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t make Christmas special for someone else. That someone being Brandon Foster.
The thought of him made me smile instantly; his easy grin, the way his hair always fell into his eyes when he played piano, the way his hands looked when he moved across the keys like he was translating emotion into sound. Brandon didn’t care that I didn’t have fancy clothes or expensive gifts; he loved me for me. Still, I wanted to give him something, something that said ‘I love you’ in a way words couldn’t. That’s how I got the idea for mittens.
It started a few nights ago when Brandon and I had walked home from Anchor Beach, our breath visible in the cold. He’s tucked his hands in his jacket pockets, blowing warm air onto them every few minutes.
“Should’ve brought glvoed.” He said with a little laugh.
I remember watching his fingers, red from the cold, and thinking, I could make those warm. Literally.
Now, sitting cross-legged on the floor of my room, I stared down at the yarn I bought from the dollar store, soft gray with tiny white flecks that reminded me of snow. I saved up the money from babysitting the neighbor’s kid, resisting every temptation to buy coffee or snacks after school.
Knitting wasn’t something I was great at. I learned from YouTube tutorials last year when I wanted to make scarves for my mom and brother, and those had turned out… okay. Not perfect, but mittens felt doable. At least, that’s what I told myself.
The first attempt was a disaster. One mitten looked like it could fit a toddler, and the other like it belonged to a small bear. My stitches were uneven, the thumbs were crooked, and I accidentally dropped a loop somewhere in the middle. I sighed, undoing the yarm and starting over.
“Maybe this was a dumb idea…” I muttered under my breath, glancing at the clock. Midnight. My fingers ached, but I refused to give up. Brandon was worth the effort.
The next day, after school, I sat on the steps outside before heading home, knitting needles in my lap. Callie walked by and gave me a curious look
“Hey, Y/N. What’re you making?”
“Mittens.” I said, biting my lip in concentration as I tried not to mess up another row.
“For Brandon?” She asked, grinning.
I blushed. “Maybe…”
She laughed softly. “That’s sweet. He’ll them them.”
I hope she was right.
By the end of the week, I had one mitten finished, and it wasn’t half bad. The stitches were tight and even, and when I slipped my hand inside, it actually felt warm. I imagined Brandon wearing it, maybe while he played piano, his fingers safe from the cold for once. I couldn’t help smiling at the thought.
The second mitten took another few days. Between school, babysitting, and helping Mom with groceries, I worked on it every chance I got. During lunch, before bed, even while watching TV with my brother. He teased me, of course.
“You’re such a grandma.” He said, laughing when he caught me knitting.
“Grandmas are cool.” I shot back, tossing a ball of yarn at him.
By the time I tied off the last stitch, it was Christmas Eve Eve, and I finally had a matching pair. They weren’t perfect; one was a little looser than the other, and the left thumb leaned slightly sideways. But they were soft, warm, and made with love, every single loop a tiny piece of me. I wrapped them in brown paper from an old grocery bag and tied it with a string. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt right.
Christmas morning came faster than I expected. Our apartment smelled faintly of cinnamon oatmeal and the cheap pine candle Mom lit to make up for not having a tree. My little brother had woken me up way too early, shaking my shoulder and yelling,
“It’s Christmas!” until I threw a pillow at him.
Now, sitting on my bed with my gift for Brandon in my lap, I felt… nervous. Which was ridiculous, right? I worked hard on those mittens. They were warm and soft and full of love. But all I could think about was the small, perfectly wrapped box he gave me last night. I hadn’t opened it yet. He told me to wait until Christmas morning.
I stared at the brown paper package sitting next to my pillow, my handmade mittens, and then at the shiny little box tied with golden ribbon. The difference between the two made my stomach twist. His gift looked like something out of a jewelry store commercial. Mine looked like something a kid made for an art project. Still, I told myself, he’ll appreciate it. Brandon wasn’t shallow. He wasn’t the type to care about expensive things. But a tiny voice in the back of my head whispered, What if he doesn’t understand?
Later that afternoon, after helping Mom wash dishes and hugging my brother about a dozen times, I headed to the Fosters’ house. The world outside was a winter postcard, soft snowflakes falling in the sunlight, kids laughing down the street, everything shining and white.
When I got to the Fosters’, I could hear Christmas music playing from inside. The door opened before I could even knock.
“Sam!” Brandon grinned, pulling me inside and kissing my cheek.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” I said, trying not to blush as he took my coat.
The house smelled amazing, cookies, cocoa, and pine from their huge, perfectly decorated tree. I could hear laughter from the living room, and for a second, I just stood there, letting it all sink in.
He handed me a mug of hot chocolate, and we sat on the couch near the window. I noticed he was wearing one of those soft flannel shirts that made him look effortlessly cozy.
“So…” He said, eyes bright. “Did you open my gift yet?”
I shook my head. “I wanted to do it with you.”
“Perfect.” He said softly, handing me the little box.
My fingers trembled slightly as I untied the ribbon and opened it. Inside, resting on the bed of white cotton, was a silver heart-shaped necklace, simple, delicate, and beautiful. The letters B+Y/F/I were engraved in the center, with a tiny music note etched beside them.
I gasped softly. “Brandon…”
He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted you to have something that… you know, shows how much you mean to me. It’s not fancy or anything-”
“Brandon, it’s perfect.” I whispered, tears already blurring my vision.
“It’s beautiful.”
He smiled, relief washing over his face. “Really?”
“Really.”
He took it from the box and fastened it around my neck, his fingers brushing the back of my skin. The metal was cool against my collarbone, but it warmed quickly. When I turned back to face him, his eyes softened.
“Looks even better on you.” He said.
I laughed quietly, blinking back tears. “Okay, now I’m really nervous about my gift.”
He tilted his head. “Nervous? Why?”
I bit my lip, pulling out the brown paper package from my bag.
“Because yours is all shiny and perfect and… well, mine isn’t.”
He frowned. “Sam…”
“I just- promise you won’t laugh, okay?”
“I would never laugh at something from you.” He said seriously.
I handed him the package, my stomach twisting. “Merry Christmas, Brandon.”
He opened it carefully, unfolding the paper like it was something precious. When them mittens came into view, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Mittens?” He said, smiling.
I nodded quickly, rushing to explain. “Yeah, um, I noticed your hands are always freezing, and I couldn’t really afford anything from a store, so I-”
He cut me off by slipping one mitten on. Then the other.
“They fit perfectly.” He said quietly, flazing his fingers.
“Wait… did you make these?”
I hesitated. “Yeah. I, uh, I knitted them. Took me a while, but-”
Before I could finish, he set his cocoa aside and pulled me into his arms.
“Sam,” He murmured against my hair. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”
I froze for a second, then laughed breathlessly.
“You’re just saying that.”
“No,” He said firmly, leaning back to look at me. “I mean it. You made these with your hands. You spent hours on them. That means more to me than anything I could buy.”
His eyes were soft and shining, the kind of look that made my chest ache in the best way.
“I love them.” He said again, rubbing his thumb over the yarn.
“I love you for making them.”
I laughed, relief and warmth washing through me like sunlight. He leaned forward, kissed the tip of my nose, and whispered,
“Now, when my hands are warm, I’ll think of you.”
I swallowed hard, smiling through the lump in my throat.
Rewatching by the fosters with a sibling who hasn’t seen it and oh my gosh, THE STUFF WITH BRANDON AND CALLIE PAINS ME, LIKE HE IS CAUSING SO MANY ISSUES
