Home for Christmas

I huffed in annoyance at the endless dialing of the phone. It was the third time I'd tried to call Ginger in the last half an hour, and he wasn't picking up. I didn't want to sound like an overprotective boyfriend, but this was ridiculous.

"Hey, I can't get to the phone r-"

With a growl, I threw the phone across the room. I turned my head as it bounced around the room, trying to ignore the fact that I'd probably just broken another phone in one of my pissy moods. I just didn't care; I was upset, and the phone, unfortunately, happened to be the vehicle through which I vented my anger.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on them. A sick feeling welled up where my heart beat against my ribcage. It was Christmas Eve, and there I was, fucking alone. Ginger was out on tour, and neither of us were sure if he was even going to be home anytime within the next month. I had hoped with every ounce of my being that he would be. The tree before me had been painstakingly decorated, along with the rest of the house. There were even gifts under the tree. Everything for him. And I couldn't even get ahold of him.

The whole situation was upsetting. Sure, it wouldn't be our first Christmas together, but I still wanted to spend the holidays with the man I loved. We knew that this was going to be hard; the two of us were in different bands, and we toured at different times. It was difficult to even find time to spend together, and this was one of my few breaks from tour. I was just hoping that maybe Manson's heart would soften just long enough to let my beloved drummer come home.

A soft mewl startled me from my hopeless reverie. It was Butter, Ginger's little orange kitten. He peered up at me with wide eyes, as if sensing my distress. I was a sucker for small animals, and Butter was no exception to that. I scooped up the small animal gently and let it nestle into my lap.

"Oh, Butter, I wish your daddy could be home with us. Don't you?" I cooed as I stroked the kitten's head. I got no response, but I wasn't expecting one. It just made me feel better to have Ginger's favorite pet in my arms.

I lost track of time, and after a while, I started to doze off. I had no idea how late it was, but I couldn't imagine it was any earlier than eight o'clock. It had been a long day, and I was emotionally exhausted. Suddenly, the sound of the phone's ringing pierced the room. I jumped awake, scaring Butter and making him leap from my lap. It took me a few disoriented seconds before I was able to get up and grab the phone from the place I'd thrown it earlier.

After plopping down onto the floor and fumbling around with the buttons, I was finally able to breathlessly answer, "Hello?"

"John? Babe, are you okay?" Ginger's concerned voice nearly made me cry out with happiness. I suppressed it, just for the sake of not wanting to have to explain myself.

"Yeah, fine. I was sleeping, and the phone scared me, is all," I laughed, running a hand through my hair. My heart was thumping in my chest. "Are you gonna be able to be home tonight? Or... y'know, tomorrow?"

The drummer hesitated on the other end of the phone, and my thumping heart skipped a beat. "I really want to, John. I want to be with you more than anything right now. But..."

"But Manson won't let you come home." I had to force the words out; I was so disappointed. Not at Ginger himself, but at the fact that I wouldn't be able to see him before I had to leave for my next tour. That would make another two months before we were able to see each other again.

"I'm sorry, doll. That's just the way it's gonna have to be," the drummer sighed. He sounded frustrated, and I knew that was his way of coping with this. It was easier for him to deal with anger than sadness. He had likely even had an argument with one of the other band members, something that occurred every time he tried to get extra time off to come home.

"Okay. I understand." I tried my hardest to keep my voice inflectionless, but I couldn't help the fact it broke on the last syllable. That one single slip-up was like a dam breaking; all of the emotions I tried to hold back just came pouring through. I had to cover the mouthpiece of the phone to keep Ginger from having to hear me. I didn't need to be the cause of more heartache than necessary.

"I want nothing more than to be with you, baby. It's just so..." He ended with a growl. "I know you're upset. Just go back to sleep, okay? I'll call you in the morning."

"But Ginger!" I whined, wanting to talk to him longer.

"Sleep. I know you're tired, and I have to go," he said firmly. His words could have been considered rude, but I knew him better than that. He was just upset and needed to cool down before he could talk without bringing the band into the conversation.

I sighed and dropped my head, "Okay."

"And John?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you."

A smile worked its way onto my lips. No matter how upset I was, those words could always make me smile. "I love you, too."

Without saying goodbye, the two of us hung up. It was an unspoken agreement between us. We hated saying goodbye. It had a sense of finality about it, as if it we weren't going to see each other for a long time. Even if it was true, it didn't help anything to acknowledge the fact.

I sat on the carpet for a few moments as I let the new information sink in. Ginger really wasn't going to be coming home for Christmas. I bit my lip and crawled back onto the couch slowly. I simply didn't have the energy to make my way to the bed, which was all the way upstairs. Butter creeped back into the room to take up residence on my stomach. There really was no point in doing anything but what Ginger had instructed me to: sleep.

__________

"I'll be home for Christmas, you can count on me."

The soft singing that penetrated my drifting consciousness confused me as I began to awake. Things slowly to register: the feeling of something brushing hair from my face, the warmth of the room, the depression on the couch next to me.

"Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents under the tree."

Finally, I was able to comprehend that there was a person sitting on the couch next to me. I was too out of it to see anything but that blurry specter.

"Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams. I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams."

A smile spread over my tired features as I realized who it was. Ginger. He stroked more hair out of my face as he gazed down at me lovingly. I squeezed his hand.

"Am I dreaming?" I mumbled, drunk with happiness and the remnants of sleep.

"Nope. This is real," Ginger said, an equally huge grin on his face. "I just hope you're still tired enough not to have heard me singing. Or at least not remember it in the morning."

The two of us broke into a fit of quiet giggles, feeling as if the moment was too good to be true. We would both be the first to admit that Ginger wasn't the world's greatest singer, and though he wasn't horrible, he usually went out of his way to avoid it. I was touched that he would even ignore his hatred of the action for me.

"I thought you weren't gonna come home," I pointed out quietly, pulling Ginger close so that I could sneak in a quick kiss.

"Is that a problem?" He rested his forehead on mine. My entire line of sight was taken by his smiling eyes. With my free hand, I reached up and played with a strand of his hair.

"No, no. I'm not complaining."

The drummer pulled back, careful not to upset my comfortable position. He pointed toward the Christmas tree. "Hey John, it looks like Santa came."

I shifted in my seat to be able to see what he was talking about. Sure enough, there were a few new piles of carefully-wrapped gifts sitting beneath it. All I could do was smile like crazy; I was too happy and too tired to even consider speaking.

Ginger snickered and crawled on top of me, resting his head on my chest. He threw a blanket over the two of us, something I'd neglected to do, and looked up at me as he were seeing me for the first time. It was like falling in love at first sight all over again.

"I just thought... Manson wasn't going to let you..." I trailed off and frowned. My thoughts weren't going to stay straight, no matter how hard I tried to get them to.

"We'll deal with that in the morning. Right now, I think it's time for bed," the drummer laughed quietly, still never taking his eyes off of mine.

"I think that sounds really freaking good." I ran my hands through his hair, relishing the fact that he was simply there with me. "Merry Christmas."

He took my hand again, making himself comfortable, and murmured, "Merry Christmas, John."