Christmas was already upon us. I had more people to give things to this year, and I felt rather excited at the prospect.

  I’d probably get something for the kitchen for my mom since that is her space. Seriously, she is territorial of her kitchen, so cooking gadgets were always a go with her.

  For Dad, I knew he wouldn’t stop his hobbies and crafts, no matter how sore his hands got, so I got him a set of tools with wider handles that would be easier for him to hold.

  That left my three new friends. What does one give to a friend? What was too much or too little? I really wanted to get it right.

  For Syla, I got her a scarf very similar to my favorite, softest one – a cushiony infinity loop in burgundy red.

  Antun had everything he could possibly need, so his gift took a little more thought. I ended up getting him a custom shirt that said ‘Not a Vampire’ because I knew it would make him laugh.

  And for Michael… I didn’t know what to give him at all. No matter how long I thought on it, I was out of ideas. I wanted to get it right. Something that said I see you, not just here’s a gift.

  My apartment didn’t have much room for decor, so in previous years I had opted to just help decorate my parents’ home instead. When talking with Michael about the holiday, he suggested we could get a poinsettia for color.

  “Would have to be fake, they’re toxic to pets. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, Mr. I-Took-A-Botany-Class-In-College,” I winked at him. I was feeling braver around him, more ready to push his buttons. I had forgiven him by now, needing my best friend more than I needed my anger.

  At first his brows had raised in surprise at the factoid, but then his eyes narrowed. He stuck his tongue out at me. “Do you want to get a tree instead?"

  “With Husker? Normally I’d say let’s go for it and hope for the best, but with how nervous he still is around me, I’m wondering if changing his environment that much would freak him out.”

  Michael shrugged, “He’s your cat, you’d know what’s best.”

  We thought about it and decided to split the difference and got a tiny tree for the kitchen table that had battery operated LED lights. He made an origami star for the top of it, sticking it on the treetop with a toothpick and twist tie. We took a selfie with the tree, sending it to Antun.

  Antun: Should I decorate my house? I don’t really have neighbors

  Michael: Up to you

  Drew: What I’m hearing is that you need our excellent expertise on holiday decor.

  Syla: I want to decorate for Christmas!!!

  Antun: LOL

  Antun: Do you guys wanna decorate with us?

  Michael: We’re in

  Later, at Antun’s house with faux greenery and other decorations scattered everywhere, the four of us set out to decorate the house interior for the holidays.

  “What do you usually do for Christmas? As an influencer I’d have thought you’d have done something like this before.” I was curious that we had had to buy so much decor, that he didn’t already have some for that big house of his.

  “There are some very ingenious backgrounds that look fairly flawless from a small phone screen. I’d usually pick a holiday themed room and green screen myself.”

  “That almost sounds harder than just decorating for the holiday. And then you get to enjoy seeing it too,” Syla remarked.

  This was her first real Christmas in over a century and she was very excited for it. She had on a headband with two candy canes on springs, looking like festive antennae, and a sweater that had several small reindeer in a seemingly random pattern all over it.

  Antun had picked a classical holiday music playlist, and Frank Sinatra was currently singing in the background.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Michael had a green garland wrapped around his neck like a scarf as he decorated the tree that Antun had delivered to his home.

  I felt very content at that moment, and then I was hit with worry.

  This is the lull before the storm, isn’t it, I thought, ruining my good mood.

  Syla noticed my mood shift. “Drew, are you okay?”

  Snap out of it, you’re supposed to be having fun right now.

  I tried to cover up with, “Yeah, just overthinking and stressing myself out.”

  “Well stop that,” she retorted. “It’s Christmas time! A time for coming together and celebrating the life that endures even in the harshest of winters.”

  I had never thought about Christmas that way. Celebrating life that endures… I grew up with the typical Santa Claus and baby Jesus type of Christmas, so thinking of the holiday completely outside of those terms, although new, felt oddly warm and comforting.

  I picked up an ornament. I looked at Michael, comparing his eyes with the color of the tree. His eyes were nearly the same color as the gorgeous, full evergreen.

  Even then, his eyes are still prettier…

  “Drew?” Michael asked, a brow raised in question as to why I was looking at him like that.

  Shit! Caught staring. I gave myself a mental slap to the forehead.

  “Just wandering thoughts, sorry.”

  Antun said without stopping his task of filling in a wreath with floral picks, “Want to share with the class, love? We might be able to help.”

  I thought about it. “Not right now. Right now,” I put a headband on my head similar to Syla’s, with Santa heads instead of candy canes, “It’s Christmas, and I don’t know about you guys, but a cocoa or coffee break sounds nice.”

  Everyone uttered their agreement and we congregated in the kitchen as some fancy machine of Antun’s made shots of espresso to go into our cocoa. In ironically perfect timing, we all clanked our mugs together and said, “Cheers!”

  ? ?? ?

  “He said that he can help with the sourcing and the crafting, we just need to decide what we’re making.” Antun’s woodworking friend had gotten back to him a few days before Christmas. Antun and Syla had called us as soon as they heard.

  “Fantastic!” I said. “But what’s this going to cost, Antun?”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it covered.” I could almost see him inspecting his nails nonchalantly.

  “That’s not what I asked, Antun.” I struggled to believe that this was going to be anything but costly.

  “My friend has been interested in working on a yew piece for years, he just never had any projects interesting enough to risk the toxicity of the sawdust that’s bound to be produced at some point during crafting. So while it is a little on the expensive side, I can more than cover it.”

  I decided to trust him on it. “Alright. I guess now is when we start brainstorming weapon ideas for our crafty friend to make real. Anyone wanna go first?”

  Michael spoke up immediately. “I really liked that sword from the museum. Something like that might be just what we need.”

  “Certainly stabby enough,” I agreed. “Or a dagger, or set of daggers maybe? Smaller, easier to conceal and travel around with.”

  We continued discussing for several minutes, bandying around various ideas.

  A thought occurred to me. “What if we have our friend collect the yew shavings and sawdust, maybe we can make powder bombs, get it into his respiratory system?”

  Everyone gave various words of approval to that idea.

  Antun said he’d take the ideas to his friend and get his input as the craftsman and an estimated time of completion.

  At home, Michael suggested we watch that one show we had found on Netflix about weaponry and see if there was anything else similar to watch. I agreed and we sat on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. I tucked one knee up, hugging it loosely. He pushed play, and before long I had ideas for different styles of swords and daggers floating in my head.

  I yawned, realizing I was starting to get sleepy. I wanted to stay up a little longer, so I turned to Michael. “Hey, I need some caffeine, you want some?”

  He shook his head, paused and tilted it, then, “Maybe a small cup.”

  We queued up the next show, another blade doc. Since this seemed the most likely route at the moment, we pressed play.

  It began. Interesting content, dry narration. Even with the coffee, I found myself drifting off and snapping back awake, just for it to happen again a moment later. My head dipped once… then again… I don’t know when it happened, but at some point I fell asleep, letting the darkness envelope me.

  ? ?? ?

  Drew’s breathing was steady. If that weren’t indication enough, her body had tipped over, her head resting on Michael’s arm. He readjusted her, not wanting his arm to fall asleep. He shifted, sitting a little more diagonally on the couch so it was more comfortable to hold her.

  She had shifted and he had worried that he had woken her, only for her hand to end up on his chest. He really couldn’t move now, not when she was so tired. There was a crease between her brows, as if she were deep in thought even in her sleep.

  She just can’t give herself a break, he thought to himself as he continued watching the documentary. Definitely the documentary. Not her. Not the way her lashes swept lightly above her cheekbones, or how her lips were turned down in a slight frown. Not how her right hand was placed right next to his left hand within easy holding distance…

  He covered the hand on his chest with his free hand, a gesture so natural he didn’t think twice about it. He continued to definitely watch the show as his own eyes began to drift closed.

  ? ?? ?

  I awoke a little before 3:00 AM, my back a little sore but definitely worth it for this citrus-musk scent I’d come to–.

  Wait. Am I smelling him?

  Without moving, I opened my eyes, seeing a chest. There was a hand covering mine I knew before I looked up that Michael was still asleep, his breathing slow and steady.

  I carefully sat up, extracting my hand from his.

  Wait, that’s it!

  I knew what I was going to get him for Christmas.

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