Work Text:
prompt: last christmas together
Edd doesn't know how long they've been walking for. Sometimes they take breaks, sit on the wooden fence and pretend they can see clouds in the white abyss of a sky. Other times they lay back in the grass, chasing the long-lost memory of the sun’s warmth. It's during one of these moments that Edd’s startled out of his almost-sleep by Molly's hesitant voice.
“Hey, Edd...?”
Her words are faint, so much so that they could almost be mistaken for the wind. Something must be bothering her.
Edd rolls over, rests his head on his arm. “What is it, Molly?”
Molly presses her lips together. He thinks she's about to clam up when she asks, “Do you still remember Christmas?”
He raises an eyebrow. “In general? Yeah.”
Molly shakes her head. “No, like...our last Christmas together. With Mom and Dad and Sophie.”
Oh.
Edd tries to recall his last Christmas. Bittersweet memories appear in his mind. “Yeah, I think I do. Mom baked Jesus a Christmas cake, and Sophie got her braces tightened the day before so she was in a lot of pain. She was really snappy.”
“You were mean too.” Molly’s frowning, now, avoiding looking at Edd.
“I was?”
“You told me I was annoying and that I should shut up forever.” Molly sniffles a little, making Edd’s heart pang. “I just wanted to play astronauts with you.”
He had done that, he recalls. Back then, he'd been upset that Sophie was upset, and had taken it out on Molly. He regrets it now, after everything that's happened.
“...I'm sorry, Molly. I shouldn't have said that.”
Molly sniffles a little more. Her hand reaches out, an unspoken question. Edd intertwines his hand with hers, an unspoken answer.
Finally, she says, “It's okay.” Edd expects that to be all, but she continues. “What about Easter, Edd?”
Edd frowns, thinking hard. “Easter? That was right before we…” His throat closes up. He digs his nails into the grass, grits his teeth to avoid tearing up. He can't continue that train of thought.
Molly cuts in before Edd can spiral. “Dad hid Easter eggs for us. Mom didn't like that he used real eggs.”
Breathing through his nose, Edd tries to remember. It takes a moment, but eventually he's able to locate the memory. “The ones we couldn't find smelled really bad after a while. They were all green and fuzzy.”
“I thought Mom was gonna burst like a balloon from how mad she was,” Molly giggles. She rarely ever smiles anymore, let alone laughs, so the sound is a welcome change.
Edd laughs a little too, invigorated.
“What about Halloween?” Molly asks once their laughter has died down. “Can you remember it?”
Edd tries to recall it, but it's hard. He frowns. “...I can't. I mean, I can remember the basics, but...everything else is just fuzzy.”
“Me too. I think we dressed up together, but I don't remember what our costumes were.”
The sudden silence eats away at Edd. He knows what that means, what losing their memories means—eventually they'll forget everything. They'll become empty husks, searching endlessly for something they can't even remember.
The thought terrifies him. He doesn't want to forget his mom or dad or Sophie. He especially doesn't want to forget Molly.
Molly tugs on Edd’s hand until he's looking at her again. “Do you think we'll ever get to have another holiday, Edd?”
The question is so different from her previous ones, Edd blinks in confusion before registering it.
He wants to hold out hope, but…
“I don't know, Molly,” he admits quietly. “Maybe one day. Whenever we've moved on from...this place. Wherever this is.”
“I hope so.” Molly squeezes his hand. He squeezes back. A moment passes, then: “...I miss Mom's Christmas cake, Edd.”
“...Me too, Molly.”