Bleeding Summer

Severa's POV

December 23.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Eugene and I had already decided to spend it together. The problem? We hadn't actually planned anything. No dinner reservations, no gift exchanges, not even a simple idea of how we'd pass the night.

And now, instead of figuring that out, I was stuck stewing in irritation over everything that had happened today.

Lucien's sudden appearance.

Sebastian approving of it.

Eugene calling me his girlfriend.

That last one was the worst.

I paced around my hotel room, my arms crossed as I tried to push the memory away. It wasn't working. I could still hear Eugene's voice so clearly, so sure of himself.

"She's my girlfriend."

I let out a groan, running a hand through my hair.

What was he thinking?

Hell, what was I thinking, just standing there and letting him say that?

A loud knock on my door made me jolt.

"Sev, open up."

I sighed, already knowing who it was.

I didn't move. "Go away."

The door handle rattled. "We're going out."

I frowned. "What?"

"I'm giving you five minutes to get ready," Eugene said. "Or I'm coming in and dragging you out myself."

I scowled. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, his tone daring me to argue.

I stomped to the door and yanked it open, glaring up at him. "I'm not in the mood to go anywhere."

He met my glare with an unwavering look. "Tough. You need it."

"I need what, exactly?"

"A distraction."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he crossed his arms, cutting me off before I could even start.

"Look," he said, exhaling sharply. "It's almost Christmas Eve. We haven't planned anything, and if we don't do it now, we're going to end up eating instant noodles in the hotel room like pathetic loners."

I folded my arms. "I like instant noodles."

Eugene gave me a flat look. "Get dressed, Severa."

I rolled my eyes but turned back into the room, muttering, "You're annoying."

I could hear the smirk in his voice as he replied, "I know."

###

Thirty minutes later, we were in his car, heading toward the town center.

I had expected him to play some music or try to make conversation, but he was surprisingly quiet. He just kept his focus on the road, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel.

It was… unsettling.

I wasn't used to Eugene being this calm.

I shifted in my seat. "Are you okay?"

He blinked, as if startled by the question. "Yeah. Why?"

"You're being weird."

He let out a low chuckle. "And you're still mad."

I frowned. "I never said I was mad."

"You didn't have to," he said, glancing at me. "It's written all over your face."

I huffed, crossing my arms. "Whatever."

Eugene smirked but didn't push further.

We reached the town center a few minutes later, parking near the main plaza where a giant Christmas tree stood in the middle, twinkling with golden lights. Small shops and stalls lined the streets, selling everything from handcrafted trinkets to holiday sweets. The air smelled like cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and freshly baked bread.

Despite myself, I felt my mood lift.

Eugene noticed. "See? This is better than sulking in your room, isn't it?"

I shot him a glare. "I was not sulking."

He laughed, stepping ahead. "Come on."

###

We spent the next hour walking around, stopping at different stalls.

I picked up a small snow globe, shaking it and watching the tiny flakes swirl around a miniature town inside.

"Cute," I murmured.

"Planning to buy that?" Eugene asked, standing beside me.

I hesitated. "I don't know."

He reached into his pocket and handed some cash to the vendor. "We'll take it."

I blinked. "What—hey! I didn't say I wanted it!"

"You were staring at it like a kid," he said, handing me the bag. "Just take it."

I frowned, but my fingers curled around the bag instinctively.

"…Thanks," I mumbled.

Eugene smirked. "You're welcome."

We continued walking, stopping every now and then to look at different things. Eventually, we found ourselves in front of a small bakery, the warm scent of vanilla and chocolate wafting through the air.

"You should pick a cake," Eugene said. "For tomorrow."

I raised a brow. "Since when do you like sweets?"

"I don't," he admitted. "But you do."

I stared at him.

Was this the same Eugene I used to know?

The one who once told me desserts were a waste of stomach space?

He seemed to notice my expression because he sighed. "Don't overthink it, Sev. Just pick one."

I bit my lip, then pointed at a classic chocolate mousse.

Eugene placed the order, and soon, we were walking back to the car, bags of random holiday items in hand.

As we settled into our seats, I glanced at him. "So, we have a cake. What else?"

He thought for a moment. "I'll cook dinner."

I snorted. "Since when do you cook?"

"I can cook," he said, offended.

I gave him a skeptical look.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll cook together."

I hummed. "That sounds better."

He smirked. "Figured you'd say that."

As we drove back to the hotel, I felt something shift between us.

Maybe it was the holiday atmosphere.

Maybe it was the fact that, for the first time in years, we were actually talking without sharp edges and buried wounds.

Maybe it was the fact that, despite everything, we had chosen to spend this Christmas together.

And for the first time in a long while…

I didn't mind.