Being the girlfriend of a figure skater was hard. Not only was he gone half the time to practice, he was gone the other half to perform. The few times you did see him, you were constantly reminded of the fact that you wouldn’t soon enough. Still, you stuck through it. Phichit was worth the constant heartache because the few times you did see him, he was able to mend all the pain and sadness with a simple smile.
Waiting in the Bangkok airport was stifling. People jostled each other and swore in various languages, either waiting for layover flights or for their loved ones. You sat alone anxiously, your knees stiff in the uncomfortable chair. The Chulanonts hadn’t been able to make it, what with Phichit’s touchdown being such a ridiculous hour, and they trusted you with bringing their prized son home safe.
Suddenly, the first person came racing down the gate, yelling somebody’s name. A woman stood up and embraced him, nearly getting knocked down to the floor by his forwards momentum. People chattered excitedly and stood, craning their necks and waiting. One by one, the crowd surrounding you thinned out. You started chewing on your nails. Where was he? Had something happened—?
You heard him before you saw him and stepped behind a larger man, gasping with delight when you did see him. It was a ridiculous sight. He had two luggage carts trailing behind him, full with boxes and suitcases, no doubt packed to bursting with trinkets and souvenirs for the extensive line of family and friends waiting for him. You didn’t think twice about what other people would think and launched yourself towards him, accidentally causing him to drop his bag in order to catch you.
“Phichit!” you cried out, “God, I missed you!”
He laughed, his face pressing into your neck. “I missed you too.”
You got off of him, still bouncy on your feet from the energy of seeing him. The sleepiness of having to wait for so long at ungodly hours had melted off of you now that he was here, back with you.
“It’s not Christmas anymore, is it?”
“What?” You looked down at your watch. “No, it’s the twenty-sixth. Why?”
“Darn,” he sighed. “It was the twenty-fifth when I left. I wanted to make it in time to give you my Christmas present.”
“Phichit,” you exclaimed, blushing hotly like an idiot. You fanned the redness off of your face, despite the giddy grin on your lips. “You don’t have to get me any presents, I told you. You’re all I need.”
“This one’s really good though. It’s a little late, but hold your hands out. And close your eyes.”
“Close my eyes?” you asked wryly. “If it’s something gross…”
He laughed. “No, it’s not. I promise! Close your eyes already!”
“Fine, fine…” you closed your eyes and held out your hands, palms up, just like he’d asked. You were more nervous than you should’ve been, your fingers twitching slightly with anticipation. You felt something that was like… a box?
“Can I open my eyes?” you asked.
You did and looked at your hands, a little metal tin balanced precariously in them. You switched it to your left and opened it with your right. Your brow furrowed.
“It’s fake snow! It never snows at home and the snow from Detroit would melt, so I got you fake snow. I know you’ve always wanted to see it and I felt bad that I couldn’t take you, so I had to settle for second best.”
You started laughing, not because it was silly, but because he was just so kind. You were about to close the tin and thank him before he held up a finger, grinning slyly.
“Not yet. My real present is in there.”
“Real present?” you repeated, looking down at the box. You stuck a finger in and dug around the white puff of powder, frowning. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Look a little harder.”
The box was too small to fit your hand so you dug around with two fingers, your index scraping against something right at the bottom. You looked up to Phichit excitedly.
“I think I got it! What is it, Phichit?”
“You’ll see,” he teased. You frowned and wanted to pout at him.
“Why can’t you just tell me?” you whined.
It was hard to get a grip on the mysterious object with two fingers. In the end you pinched it between your fingers awkwardly, drawing it out, white fluff fluttering out the box with the motion. It fell down to your feet as you blew more of the fake powder off of the object in your hand.
“[Name]. Will you do me the honour…?”
He took his golden gift right back from you, dropping onto a single knee. Some flyaway fluff floated around, and looking down at his face, you could imagine that you were standing outside in a wintery wonderland as he grinned up at you.
“Of marrying me?”