"What're you doing for Thanksgiving?" Benny said down the phone. It was late, too late to be up before another day of university classes, but you'd both got into the bad habit of calling in the evening.

At first, you'd thought it was stupid— you literally lived five blocks away from each other. But as time passed, you realised it was simply more convenient. You could wear your pyjamas, smoke a cigarette and write your English notes while he chatted away on the line.

"I don't celebrate Thanksgiving," You chuckled, phone held between your shoulder and cheek, writing down book notes on the floor at the same time. "Have I been here that long that you've forgotten I'm not actually American?"

"With your accent, no one could forget," He hit back. "Fine then— what are you doing for the weeks leading up to Christmas?"

"Probably drowning my sorrows in mulled wine and reading Wuthering Heights for the hundredth time,"

"Not heading home for it?" His curiosity crept down the phone. You paused, dropping your pencil as you went to grab a cigarette.

"I wasn't planning on it. Why?"

You could tell what face he was pulling as he breathed down the line. It was a face you'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks at chess club meets. The subtle arch of an eyebrow, lip quivering like he had a secret to tell— in other words, his amused smile.

"Well, Matt and I usually drive upstate to his Mom's for Thanksgiving. Sometimes we stay for Christmas and New Year's,"

"Are you inviting me on a road trip?" You said, exhaling smoke with a reserved smile.

"That depends on if you say yes or not,"

You contemplated your options— staying in your studio and watching It's A Wonderful Life on repeat in your slippers or drinking and feasting in Matt's mother's house for a month.

"It's my birthday on the 11th of December," You stated.

"All the more reason to say yes,"

"I have classes—,"

"You and I both know you've already written up your assignments early," He chuckled. "You're trying so hard to get out of this,"

"And you're trying so hard to get me to come on a boy's trip,"

"It's hardly a boy's trip when Matt's mom makes up our third party member," You stayed silent, flicking ash into an ashtray and falling back to lie on the floor, staring at the ceiling. "Are you afraid I'm finally gonna beat you at chess if we spend the holidays together?"

You huffed at his response, but he wasn't exactly wrong. The more you'd played against Benny, the more he analysed your moves and tactics. He was getting better at understanding the stories in your head, how you'd set the scene.

It was daunting, and you knew he'd said that as bait, but nevertheless—

It was his bait that you took wholeheartedly.

"If I fail all my classes, I'm holding you accountable," You said, climbing into the passenger side of Benny's Beetle, less than a week after he'd roped you into going upstate.

Matt was shoved in the back with the bags, but he didn't seem to care too much.

"Think of it as an extracurricular vacation,"

"In what world does drinking booze-infused hot chocolate and playing a hundred games of chess count as being extracurricular?"

Benny shot you a smirk. "My world."

Driving through central New York City the day before Thanksgiving wasn't the best experience you'd ever had, but after you crossed the Brooklyn Bridge you were plain sailing.

You watched as snow began to fall, thicker and faster, the more you drove upstate. Out the window was rolling fields of cushioned white. Inside the car was Matt and Benny, playing another game of mental chess.

You followed along as they spoke their moves—

Rook to G4, Knight to A7, until Matt lost again and declared another rematch. Benny was soaking up victories, after losing to you, countless times. You hadn't even noticed how fast the time had gone until Benny put the Beetle in park, outside nothing other than a lake side cabin.

You got out the car, boots dropping into a few inches of untouched snow, eyes plastered on the cabin. "You didn't tell me your mom's house was a fucking five-star winter resort," You shot a wide-eyed smile at Matt, as he grabbed the bags out of the car. "I would have said yes quicker if I knew we were coming here."

"I wasn't gonna let you pass up an opportunity to see Casa-de-Maude," Benny slammed his car door, trudging through snow toward you. The screen door swung open on the cabin porch, and out burst a woman with subtly greying curls. Her face was red and charming, holding the largest smile you'd ever seen as she bound forward, arms outstretched, blouse untucked from the waistband of her flared trousers.

"My baby!" Matt's mom yelled, cupping her hands on either side of Matt's face.

Benny brought his lips to your ear, his breath startling you slightly. "Maude's lovely. I have a feeling she'll latch onto you," You turned a furrowed look on the champion, involuntarily looking his face up and down.

"Benny—," Maude spoke up, gesturing for him to give her a hug. Benny obliged, strolling toward the porch and encasing Maude in a strong hug. "Your hair gets longer every time I see you,"

"Hair tends to grow," He shot back sarcastically, but Maude's smile only increased.

"Mom, this is Y/N, a friend from the city." Matt reached out for your hand, pulling you up onto the porch swiftly. You tried not to get too flustered as Maude peered into your face like you were an unsolved mystery she was just waiting to figure out.

"Welcome, sweetheart," She said, bringing you in for a hug that you accepted warmly. When she pulled back, she sent a stare at the bags in the snow. "Come on, boys, get those inside—it's freezing."

Maude clasped your hand, dragging you inside the cabin.

What surrounded you was nothing short of rich. The cabin was all warm timber and deep mahogany tables. Artwork lined the walls, trinkets sat on every shelf, and the smell of fresh bread enveloped all of your senses at once.

You glanced at a large windowsill overlooking the lake, topped with pillows and cushions and soft blankets. You imagined yourself reading there for hours, drinking tea and enjoying Maude's cooking—

It was all well and good being an independent adult, you wouldn't have taken that back for the world, but there was something about a mother's touch that sent you into a different kind of relaxation.

"There are skates and warm coats in the boot room— when the lake freezes over, it makes a fabulous ice rink," Maude explained, watching as your eyes gazed over the lakes surface.

"You skate here?" You asked, turning your stare to Matt as he and Benny dropped the bags in the entryway.

"It's cool, right?" He confirmed.

You stood in the open-planned living room, just soaking up the warmth and light and freedom. You'd never been somewhere so beautiful, with friends such as Benny and Matt. Even being invited had stumped you to the point where you'd believed it to be a joke at first, until Benny had practically begged you to come with his fighting words.

You each had your own room, made up pristinely with furs and soft blankets for cold nights. The room was almost the size of your entire studio; you embraced the king-sized bed with a joyful leap right into the centre, stuffing your face into the soft fabrics. You stayed face down for a few minutes, fully able to have fallen asleep if you'd wanted to.

"Enjoying yourself?" The amused voice of Benny Watts sounded from the door.

"How could you tell?" You said, voice muffled as you still laid face down. You felt the mattress shake as Benny deposited himself at the of the bed, his knee touching your thigh.

"I knew you'd like it here," He said softly. You willed yourself to finally move, looking at him as you slid up the bed to the headboard, resting your head there pleasantly. You watched as Benny moved to sit cross-legged before you, stare turning to look at the view of the lake outside your window.

You traced the line of his jaw, the way his hair fell in subtle waves on his head, skimming his ears and eyeline—

The way Beth had spoken about your father's chessboard being beautiful had given you a new perspective on the world; it had made you think about all of the other things that were beautiful.

Maybe some people were actually beautiful. Not just because of looks, or style, but because of what they put out into the world—

Maybe Benny fucking Watts was one of those people.

It wasn't long before chess was brought up. The four of you sat at the grand dining table with plates of food big enough to feed an army.

"How's your friend, Beth Harmon, Benny?" Maude said. Benny finished chewing, placing his cutlery on his plate neatly.

"She's well. She visited us for my birthday earlier this month,"

"Did you guys play?"

Benny and Matt moved their stares onto you in an unspoken remembrance. They both remembered you playing against her, beating her—you could see the scene playing out in their heads.

Benny grabbed his glass of red wine, taking a sip before answering. "Yes, we did. We all did," He added, and you felt butterflies appear in your stomach.

"Oh? Do you play chess too, Y/N?"

You mimicked Benny by taking a sip of wine. "Yes, sometimes." You stopped, as thoughts of what else to add pelted your mind. You had a strong urge to keep talking, to open up. It would be easier than tiptoeing around comments and questions—

It would be good.

"My father was one of the greats," You said, ignoring the glances that Matt and Benny gave each other as you continued. "A Grandmaster."

"Goodness," Maude began, positively beaming. "He must be proud of you for playing, huh? Especially with the likes of these boys."

Silence floated over the table, with the exception of Maude's knife and fork squeaking on her plate. You breathed in deeply a few times, but the small smile on your face didn't fade, even as you placed your own cutlery down on your plate, going to tap your wine glass.

"He died four months ago, of a heart attack," You let out. Maude stopped eating, turning to look at you. Her eyes were stunned, her expression full of sudden and unstoppable anguish. "It was at his last tournament, right before he got to play his final game of professional chess."

You had no idea where the words had come from, but as you'd spoken them, you'd felt the oddest sensation—

Relief. A lightness. A darkness floating away from your body.

You dared to look at Benny, and as you did, you saw his eyes were already plastered on your own. He wasn't frowning, there was no sadness behind his eyes— he looked at you like you'd just won a chess game against Vasily Borgov, like you'd just become a world champion—

It cemented it in your mind—

Benny Watts was one of those beautiful people.

"Sorry, that was a bit of a downer," You let out, a few chuckles escaping alongside, simply because you couldn't believe you'd actually said it. You'd spent four months trying to forget it had ever happened, trying to go through life like your father hadn't been one of the greatest chess players the world had known, ignoring the stares, the way people hung their heads in sadness, the way their eyes revealed only pity—

And you'd finally said it out loud.

"Nonsense," Maude burst out. "This table and this home are places where anyone can speak up. That's always been my rule." There was a finality in her voice that you appreciated.

Despite Maude insisting you sit down after dinner, you chose to help her clean up in the kitchen. You dried the plates, topped up glasses and put away the leftover food, all with a faint smile on your face.

"My dear," Maude spoke, only loud enough for you to hear. She approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Talking is the greatest healer. I found that out after Matt's father departed, but it took me a great deal of time before the words came naturally," She smiled at you warmly, moving her hand to your cheek. "When you speak, I know those boys will listen. They've never brought anyone here with them before." Maude slid her hand from your face, but her eyes didn't leave yours.

You swallowed, overcome with emotion. "They're good people." You managed to let out, and you meant it. They were people you hadn't expected to gel with so easily, who had taken you in despite knowing who you were and respected your feelings, your wishes, your words.

Both of you turned to Benny and Matt, sat in the living room chatting. You could tell Maude was extremely proud of her son. You'd had no idea that Matt had lost his father as well—you almost felt guilty for not asking about his family, for not being observant, but you also knew that Matt hardly talked about his personal life. Coming to his family home was the closest you'd ever got to finding out more about him.

You felt privileged that he'd let you in.

You kept the curtains open in your room as you laid in bed that night, watching the snow glisten as it fell from the sky. The moon was bright, and you felt thankful. The irony of you feeling this way when Thanksgiving was approaching was comical, considering you didn't celebrate it.

You felt thankful for this life, for being welcomed. You felt thankful for your friends and your family—your mother, and your old roommate back in England.

You felt thankful for chess.

Your heart skipped when you heard a knock at your door, just loud enough for you to notice. You paused before jumping out of bed and tugging on your dressing gown, strolling slowly to the door and placing your ear to it.

The knocks came again, followed by a "Y/N?".

It was Benny—of course it was.

You breathed out as you creaked open the door, revealing him in plaid pyjama trousers, his chest bare, apart from a silk dressing gown that draped over his shoulders.

You only stared at him, as the moon rays from your window hit his face, your heart beating faster than you'd liked it to. He leaned against the door frame with his legs crossed. He was so close, and it was so silent, that you could hear—feel— his breathing. It was slow and steady, as if he'd come to your room in the middle of the night a thousand times before.

"May I come in?"

You had no idea why Benny wanted to come in, no idea why he'd been up this late contemplating actually coming to your door—but the feeling that flowed through your blood was telling you not to deny him.

So, you opened the door further, until the crack was big enough for his body to slide through.

As you closed the door, you tried to ignore the warmth bubbling in your gut—

But as you turned to him, sat on the corner of your bed—

You had no choice but to embrace it.