Christmas in Boston | Anders & Mason
Anders sighed as he cleared his arrival gate at Boston-Logan. Under any other circumstances, he’d be ecstatic to be back in Boston, the city where it had all happened for him and Mason just last year, but after a tough shootout loss to Philly just a few hours ago, he felt dejected, sad and just plain tired as he made his way through the buzzing airport at 2AM on Christmas Eve. Mason, her mom and brother had planned to pick him up that night, as late as it was, but after the game he texted to tell them he’d take a cab to Mason’s mom’s in Allston. He needed some extra time to think, decompress, and even though he knew better--Mason was definitely still awake--he told them it would be best to not wait up.
Within an hour, Anders and the cab pulled up to the address, the front porch’s lights on to greet him. “Thanks, man. Merry Christmas,” he muttered to the driver as he pulled his bags out of the trunk and climbed the front steps, finding the front door open. Quietly, he made his way inside, removing his dress shoes and coat before making his way to the bathroom to change into some sweats. The house was surprisingly quiet, and he made sure to keep it that way, turning off residual lights behind him as he went.
Finally, he slipped into Mason’s old room, relics of her childhood still adorning bookshelves and an old desk. The little reading light that was clipped on every 90′s kid’s headboard shown dimly over her full bed, a completely asleep Mason within it, book still in hand. Ders chuckled to himself as he slipped in with her, removing the book and setting it aside. “Hey, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”
@ofmases