Cory

Between frames of starlit nights And scripted love in soft stage lights— I sit alone beneath the screen And long for what I've never seen.

That sweeping score when hearts collide, The stolen glance two souls can’t hide. A kiss in rain, arms wide and open— A sacred vow left yet unspoken.

Oh, silver films! You set the flame! Each scene whispers my heart’s refrain. But life is quiet; stars don’t fall— No waiting hero heeds my call.

Yet here I wish, beneath moon's glow— Perhaps my script will start its show.

Prologue

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A Moment in Time.

December 31st — Melville Town

There were quite a few differences between this New Year's Eve and last years. For one thing, he is alone.

Before, he’d still be living at home making sure none of his siblings swallowed a firework or shot it at each other. Now he was sitting in his small schoolhouse, writing a letter in case he died of loneliness. Dramatic, but felt fitting for the situation.

Dear, whoever finds my lonely body.

My name is Cory Rivas. I come from a mixed household where my mom is Indian and my dad is Colombian. I lived in Colombia for 5 years before living the rest of my life in the United States. Thanks to the romance movie ‘Till the Snowflakes fall’, I made the drastic decision a year ago to move out of my Parents house in the woods and move to the small town Melville. Just like the main lead did.

Till the Snowflakes fall wasn’t entirely the reason, though. It was hundreds of romance novels. All where the main lead moved out of the busy city and into some small town no ones heard of, where they have a dramatic event bumping into their love interests and get married.

...Okay, so maybe it was a little dramatized. But I know, deep down, that I will find the love of my life here. It has everything that movie did, a small town, snowflakes falling, and the Christmas annual events. So what if it’s been a year since he’s moved here and he hasn’t found a single spark? It didn’t happen immediately, not even in the movies!

Okay. Scratch that last part. In the movies it took a week to find someone and get married. But that’s what makes it more exciting, you know? Knowing at any moment I could meet the love of his life, and I’ll just... know!

A knock at his schoolhouse door jostled Cory from his letter, he quickly folded it up neatly and stuffed it in his backpack. If anyone found that letter, or the hundred of others, he’d be humiliated. “Come in!”

The door opened to Lance, the town's logger. He was built like the thick trees he cut down daily, bulking muscles and tall figure. But he was a teddy bear, Cory knew because Lance walked the kids to and from school. The human school bus, kids rode on his shoulders.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Rivas? It’s New Year's Eve! The bell rang hours ago.” Lance’s half smile told Cory the man knew why he was here. It wasn’t a secret that Cory was a bit of a... lovestruck ditz. Always chasing after his own fairytales to make them reality. It didn’t help that Cory zoned out constantly day dreaming about all the cheesy TLC romances he watches. It got to the point where his students had to shake him slightly to bring him back to the lesson.

“I’m just... cleaning up.” Cory evasively mutters, zipping his backpack up and standing. He shoved it into his chair and stretched his arms over his head, gazing outside longingly.

Just outside, in the middle of town, celebration was in full circle. The town square buzzed with the merriment of Christmas, a kaleidoscope of colorful lights reflecting in the falling snow. Children bundled up dashed across the street laughing in the chill air as they sculpted snowmen, faces bright even under scarves and hoods. It was idyllic, picture-perfect. A pleasant sight, but... not what Cory wanted by now. His arms fell to his side, sighing softly.

“Cleaning up?” Lance echoed, his voice a low rumble. A soft chuckle escaped him as he moved his hand, gently squeezing Cory’s shoulder.

“You’ll find them, son. You’re still young. Love doesn’t happen immediately.”

“Yes it does,” Cory sighs again, “It can, it’s been a year.”

Lance couldn’t help but chuckle at that, letting go of Cory’s shoulder and resting his hands on his hips looking outside the window. “Right, like in those... movies you watch?”

Cory flushed red, of course he knew movies weren’t reflections of reality. He couldn’t help but still want to find someone just like they did. To not spend another day alone in his house. He remained silent, pursuing his lips before turning to grab his backpack and the hot tea he made himself.

“Mr. Rivas.”

He stopped at his desk, turning to look at Lance as the older man smiled. “Chin up, you don’t know. Anything can happen on New Year's Eve. Just like in your romance comedies.”

Cory felt his smile return at that, and he nodded, swinging the door open and stepping out. The biting wind cut through Cory's layers. The sounds of children's high-pitched laughter, adults’ conversation, the insistent clang of a blacksmith's hammer – faded as he walked, leaving behind a dull ache in his ears. He tucked his hands deep in his coat pockets to keep them warm. He had to get ready for some of the events. He’d promised to do some face painting for the kids all day to hopefully distract himself from being lonely.

It was hard to be negative when everyone was so happy around him. Though it made his heart twinge seeing couples in matching sweaters, or sharing a kiss under the mistletoe. He let his eyes drift shut, conjuring a vision of something warm, tender—a memory that didn’t exist but felt achingly real. He pictured himself standing beneath mistletoe in a cozy living room bathed in golden light, the faint scent of pine clinging to the air. Slow music played softly in the background as someone he loved, truly loved, swayed with him in perfect rhythm. Their hands intertwined, their breaths mingled with quiet laughter. They shared gentle kisses amid murmured promises spoken just above a whisper—a moment that seemed to stretch forever.

The dream shattered abruptly as his phone erupted with an obnoxious rendition of "Jingle Bells.”

Cory fumbled for his phone, grimacing before seeing the caller ID. She never missed a holiday—his mother was FaceTiming him.

With a resigned sigh and a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he answered. Immediately, chaos unfolded on-screen. His siblings darted back and forth in the background chasing one another dangerously near the precarious Christmas tree. His father’s booming voice rose over the racket, scolding them between curses about how much trouble it’d been to haul that tree home. And then there was his mother—beaming despite the madness around her, her face filling most of the frame.

Cory squinted at his phone screen as he walked along the frosted sidewalk. “Mom,” he snorted lightly, “you’re way too close to the camera again. Move it back a little—no—more... Okay, there. Perfect.” The image of her face finally appeared fully framed on his screen instead of an extreme close-up of her nose.

“Hi love,” she greeted warmly with her familiar cheeriness. “What’re you up to?”

“Nothing much,” Cory replied with a faint smile curving his lips. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he adjusted the strap of his crossbody bag resting against his shoulder. “I’m heading home to change into something warmer. Got roped into face-painting duty all day today.”

“Aw! That sounds like fun!” His mother’s enthusiasm was almost infectious despite the minor crackle of poor cell signal distorting her voice momentarily.

Before Cory could respond, a sudden blur of motion filled the screen as his siblings crowded around their mom, pushing and jostling each other in their excitement. The camera shook wildly as voices overlapped.

“Tell him already!” his younger sister urged insistently.

Cory's brows knit together as he slowed his pace instinctively. A faint prickle of unease crawled up his spine. “Tell me what?” he asked warily.

Their mom sighed—a familiar blend of exasperation laced with reluctant amusement—and then looked back into the camera with a sheepish grin tugging at her lips. “Well... Since your nosy siblings just had to spill the beans sooner than later...” She trailed off before inhaling deeply as if preparing herself for a grand announcement.

“We’re packing up,” she continued finally with growing excitement in her tone, “and moving to Melville!”

Cory froze mid-step so abruptly that he nearly slipped in the fresh patch of snow beneath him. His phone slipped from his suddenly unsteady grasp and tumbled into a shallow drift by the curbside.

“Shit!” he cursed under his breath immediately before kneeling down hastily to retrieve it. Frost clung stubbornly as he wiped it clean against his sleeve while attempting not to panic over potential water damage.

Straightening back up shakily after ensuring no visible harm had been done to both himself and the device, Cory brought it closer once again despite rising trepidation gnawing away at him internally.

“What?” His throat felt tighter than expected when pressing further uncertainty: "Why Melville? And what happened—what about the cottage in the woods?"

His mother shrugged, “It’s just a bit too... empty. Plus your letters make Melville sound great. We’re flying in after the holidays to find some land and buy a home.”

Cory couldn’t stop smiling now, his family moving here? At least that meant he wouldn’t be alone anymore. “That’s great news! I–”

“Have you found your dreaaamy lover yet?” His brother dramatically swoons. “Just like the movies?”

“Shut up!” Cory flushes red, clearing his throat and looking around to make sure no one was listening. He had moved out saying he was going to find love. What if they thought he was hopeless if he said it’s been a year and not even a date?

“...yes.”

The phone vibrated with his family's shrieks of joy. Each sibling talking over each other trying to get info. His mother said she had to visit immediately and meet the lucky one. Dad trying and failing to get info.

Cory winced. Maybe he shouldn’t have... but it was too late to take it back. “Mom, dad– I have to go. No, I have to hang up. I’ll see you when you come here, okay? Okay?”

His family was still talking to each other, and Cory sighs before hanging up. He put his phone back in his pocket. Now that he’d end the year with a huge lie, might as well enjoy the peace while it lasted.

Still walking aimlessly down snow-dusted sidewalks, he let his eyes dip closed for just a moment. He didn’t need much—just enough space in his head. There was warmth there: an open fire crackling softly beneath hanging strings of golden lights. He could almost feel the comforting weight of someone at his side—a shoulder brushing against his as they laughed together over shared stories, their voices low but full of easy joy. He imagines himself roasting marshmallows over an open fire.

Snowflakes would fall lazily through the night air like spare notes in some perfect Christmas melody. He could imagine spinning them around in gentle arcs under moonlight, their laughter lighting up even the dimmest corners of his soul. Together somewhere warm—safe—they’d watch one of those cheesy holiday movies full of predictably perfect endings. And when anything remotely cute happened onscreen... he’d nudge them playfully: “That’s us.” He could almost hear it.

The corner of Cory’s lips twitched upward despite himself—his pace slowing as the imagined warmth wrapped snugly around him like an oversized scarf.

And then—

A jolt.

Reality slammed back into him as fast as he hit the ground.

The snow cushioned his landing somewhat—but not before he felt something sharp slosh out across his legs. His heart thudded hard against his ribs as he blinked rapidly; daydreams dissolving like ice thrown into hot tea—hot tea that was now splattered across not only him but—

Oh no.

“Oh no no no,” Cory murmured breathlessly under frozen air as his gaze shot forward—and then froze there too.

“Uh—oh no again,” he said before realizing those words made absolutely zero sense strung together like that.

The person was... beautiful.

The moment Cory realized it, his chest tightened—the sharp thrum of his heartbeat drowning out nearly every other thought. His palms prickled with sweat as he straightened up hurriedly; had he already done that? He couldn’t remember. Clearing his throat—it felt like a knot—he tried again, just in case.

It wasn’t working. His voice still caught when he finally forced himself to speak. “Are—are you okay?”

He extended a hand toward them, though halfway there he became acutely aware of how damp his palm was. Too late to pull back now.