Or at least, she thought they were. She hadn't really been paying much attention lately. Paying attention meant reacting, and reacting meant feeling. And feeling was too hard for the fragile-minded redhead.
Summer sat on her own couch this Christmas Eve, deciding it would be selfish of her to continue crashing at Sasha's dorm on such a special evening. The last thing Sasha should do is worry about her and try to pick her up where she'd fallen so many times, only to find it to be in vain--she didn't want to ruin anybody else's Christmas. She didn't want to hurt anyone anymore.
The TV was playing some Christmas special, though she could barely focus on the colorful flashes being thrown across the room from her screen. She was shut down, completely and utterly lost to the world, and despite her attempts at trying to find "happy Summer" again, as everyone referred to her...it just couldn't be done. Not so soon, at least. Maybe not even ever.
The voices in the back of her mind started to resurface again, venomous and overwhelming, despite trying to drown them out with the cheerful sounds of the holiday cartoon. Grabbing her head and whimpering, she shook it like a frightened child, almost as if she could some how shake the torturous words and sounds of self-hate from her skull.
"Please stop," she cried meekly after a few minutes, voice breaking, eyes squeezed shut as she tried not to cry. And then another emotion started to build up inside of her, boiling and hot and increasing with the intensity of lava from a volcano.
"Please..." she said louder, getting up and bracing herself on a nearby chair, "STOP!" On the last word, her burgundy-painted nails gripped the chair like a vise and threw it hard against the wall, the violently loud crash of the two surfaces clashing together bringing relief her torment briefly. But once the temporary satisfaction ceased, Summer's chest began to heave with uncontrollable sobs as she fell to her knees before her poorly decorated tree, burying her face in her hands. She hadn't had the drive to fully decorate her tree this year, her lack of Christmas spirit only getting her as far as putting the golden star at the top. Her dulled brown orbs trailed up slowly to look at it, remembering how often she used to wish on stars, and realized how often those wishes had been in vain.
"Why?" she shouted into the empty air, screeching over the invisible voices gnawing at her brain. "Why did this happen to me?! What did I do to deserve this kind of pain?!" Pushing herself up off the ground, Summer's arms raised, her hands balling in her red velvet hair as her makeup streamed down her cheeks in uneven stripes. "What did I do...?"
Her broken pleas fell back into sounds of unadulterated crying, wails and whimpers fighting the musical noises of the Christmas special still playing on her TV. Then, a few minutes later, she heard a knock at the door.
Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, the petite redhead combed her fingers through her locks and sniffled before walking up and cautiously turning the knob. "Y-yes?"
"Delivery for Summer Phillips," said a plainly dressed, rather bored looking older man with white stubble lining his jaw and upper lip. Over his left breastplate, he had a name embroidered in black thread reading, simply, 'Kris'. "Sign here, please," he instructed gruffly, handing her a pen and tapping at the dotted signature line.
The girl's brows furrowed for a moment. "K-kaykay..." Her slightly trembling fingers made a sloppy signature on the page, and with a tip of his hat and a "Merry Christmas" laced with pity and mild concern, Summer took the tiny velvet box from him and instantly lost her breath. There was a note placed on top, with handwriting she knew far too well spelling out her name in its unique form. Breath held and hands shaking, she took a deep, shuddering breath and carefully unfolded it to reveal its contents.
"Merry Christmas Summer,
I’ve arranged for this to be delivered to you just in case I’m not able to see you over the holidays. Kind of sucks when Aiden is the only one that knows about our relationship but I promise to introduce you to the rest of the family when the time is right. The gift isn’t much and I hope you like it. It’s a promise ring. Anyways, I was going to wait until our sixth month anniversary but we’ve been through enough. Usually I don’t see the point in promise rings, they are just tangible items for others to see as a symbol of our relationship in a way. We don’t need them, that’s why this promise ring isn’t a typical promise ring. I already know you’re all mine if I’m all yours and vice versa, we don’t need rings to remind us of that.
I bought this because I want it to be a constant reminder of a promise I need you to make for yourself. I need you to promise me that no matter where life takes us, you won’t sacrifice your happiness for anyone or anything else. You care so much for other people that sometimes you forget about yourself and I don’t want you to do that. I just want you to be happy, that’s all that really matters and if you’re not then find something or someone that will make you happy.
I’m sorry that for whatever reason I can’t find the time or escape from my family and give you this in person. I’ll make it up to you someday.
I love you.
Forever Yours,
-Demetri"
Hot tears were streaming down her face like razorblades by the time she'd read the first few words, subtle dots of tear stains speckling the paper. She gently placed the letter on a nearby table, reaching for the small velvet box again and slowly prying it open to reveal a treasure that both made her fragile heart shatter, flutter and soar all at once.
It was a ring. Just a simple, silver band, with the word "Mine" engraved on the outside and "Yours" etched into the inside. A sad laugh blubbered past her lips, genuinely smiling for the first time in what felt like centuries, instantly getting the sentiment as she slipped it on her ring finger. "I'm all yours, and you're all mine," she whispered to the piece of jewelry on her hand, joyful misery shining in her chocolate eyes.
Those who are gone are not always lost.
"What?" Summer asked, the clear, tangible sound of the wind filling her senses again.
It's not too late. It's never too late. Sometimes what's done is confused as fate.
"W-what do you mean by that?" she asked again, louder and more frantic this time, heart pounding against her chest as she struggled not to let hope build up inside of her. "Are you trying to tell me that--th-that he--?"
