It was snowing; hard, cold, wet, uncomfortable snow. You could see your breath in the chilly crisp air. The sky was a gloomy gray, it almost looked as if there would be a snow storm. The houses were decorated with tacky snowmen made out of bright lights and plastic reindeer with red glowing noses. There were light up penguins, poorly made polar bears and phony presents a plenty. Strings of lights and icicles dangled from the rooftops of houses.
What a magical sight; is what most people would say. You, however, had another opinion. “I hate Christmas,” you muttered, a wisp of air forming in the sky. You shivered and hugged yourself as you stared blankly at the lights. “I hate Christmas,” you spoke just a bit louder than before, for you knew no one would hear you. While you watched happy families opening gifts and hugging each other from the windows you could only look in disgust and remember why exactly you hated Christmas.
Wasn’t Christmas supposed to be a magical time? Potentially, it could have been; if it weren’t for your lack of family. You were a small country that belonged to no one. Ever since you were born you had celebrated Christmas alone. No gifts, no hugs, no kissing under the mistletoe; nothing. Of course this wasn’t the way you wished it to be; you longed for the hug and a kiss from a loved one and (even it was small) a gift to be excited about causing you to get no sleep the night prior. A childish dream; nonetheless, you hoped it would come true.
“Just for once. Let me have Christmas,” you looked up to the sky, begging for some sort of miracle as a single tear ran down your cheek. Just when you thought all hope was lost your phone rang, letting out a symphony of mellow music.
“Hello?” You inquired, trying to hide the fact that you were crying. “Hey, hey (y/n), come over to my house okay?” A spunky voice replied, “Hurry up or you’ll miss the party!” You hesitated; sure, you wanted to spend Christmas with someone. But you didn’t want to intrude on someone else’s Christmas to fulfill your own desires. “Hello? (Y/N)?” The voice questioned. No, don’t hesitate; you thought as you shook yourself out of your daze. “I-I’d love to, Italy” you quickly replied. “Yay! Come over as soon as you can, okay belle?” The line then went dead.
“What have I gotten myself into,” you thought aloud for you had never gone to a Christmas party much less celebrated Christmas. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to bring something? Were you suppose to wear something special? These questions made your head spin. “Oh, what do I do?”
“Well,” you looked up at the snowing sky and sighed, watching the wisp of air disappear, “There’s no time like the present to make a fool of yourself. You then swallowed your pride and made your way to Italy’s house.
As you approached the house you began to realize something strange; it was quiet, too quiet. Isn’t it normally noisy at parties? You expected to hear France and England bickering, America’s obnoxious laughter, Poland’s loud bragging, the Baltics’ cowering, or Russia’s ominous presence. It was completely silent. It was almost eerie. You curiously and cautiously knocked on the door. “Italy, it’s me,” you called out nervously, fiddling with your fingers.
Within seconds the door flew open, “Belle!” Italy threw his arms around you, swinging you around, and then pulling you into the house. He was so ecstatic almost as if no one else came to his party. And that’s because no one had. The sight baffled and quite frankly disturbed you.
“U-Um Italy?” You asked as he celebrated the arrival of a guest by gathering food and shoving it in your face. “Yeah belle?” You could tell something was off about him and it was clear as day. “Where is everyone; I thought this was a party?” You asked innocently. Alas, no matter how innocent your question was, he began to cry.
You weren’t sure what to do; why ever was he crying? You looked around at the table full of delicious smelling pastas and other foods, the Christmas tree that was completely bare with ordainments scattered on the floor, and a large pile of unopened gifts. Then it hit you; no one had come to his party but you. The very thought of him being alone made your heart shatter and, something else. You felt so similar, you understood his pain. With no other options left you brought him into a tight hug and whispered comforting statements such as: “Everything is going to be alright,” and, “I’m here for you.” This process repeated for about another twenty minutes until Italy spoke up.
“It isn’t fair,” he cried, “Why am I so alone?” He hugged you tighter, “I’m lonely,” he wiped his tears on your scarf. “Why am I alone on Christmas?” He asked through his tears. He hugged you even tighter and burrowed his head in your hair. You frowned and saw tears forming in your own eyes; no one should ever be alone on Christmas.
“I’ll be here Italy, and I won’t leave,” you snuggled into his chest, “Because no one should be alone on Christmas. Neither of us.” He looked up at you, his eyes glittering, his lips forming into a smile, his hand moving gently toward your cheek and laying it to rest there. “I never knew Christmas was so lonely for you too.”
He stroked your cheek as he moved closer to your face causing you to turn bright red and your heart to beat rapidly, you could almost taste his lips. “I’m never going to let you spend Christmas alone again.” A wide smile grew upon your face and your hands intertwined with his. This was the start of a new Christmas, no, more like a whole new world.