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In a small house on the outskirts of Dunningham, two little children sat by the window.
Out they gazed at the starry sky, because tonight was a very special night indeed.
For it was no other than Christmas night, where it was told that your heart’s wish can come true when you believe it so.
These two little children were good children, kind of heart and only a little naughty when their Momma’s jar of cookies poked out from the very top shelf.
Little did these children know that on this magical night they were to see the most wonderous thing of all—
“Urgh, no!”
“Oh, come on!”
“No, no, no, over my dead body! We’re not doing a Christmas book!”
“Deacooon, where’s your holiday spirit? Your sense of wonder? Think of all the damage your skin will suffer when it turns green cause you wanted to be a sad grumpy Grinch.”
“My holiday spirit is due to arrive in half a year. We’re in July, Chase!”
“You know what you sound like?” Chase said. “In need of some Holly and jolly, that’s what you sound like.”
“You’re only saying this because you saw the hot Santa.” Deacon jabbed at the book cover.
Chase scrunched up his face cartoonishly. “Humbug.”
Finally, Deacon’s ‘why do we share dna’ expression cracked and he let out a snort.
It jostled Bronze — who was napping on top of Deacon’s head, however impractical that may be. He made a grumbly noise and pulled on Deacon’s hair, like how one would handle a horse. Deacon sighed.
“Y’know what.” He slapped the book into Chase’s chest. “Say hi to Buddy for me, I’m not listening to bell chimes and ‘ho ho ho’, when it’s not november and Mom can’t tell me to get in the spirit yet.”
Chase grimaced. “You look like a tortured mannequin when she does that.”
Most of Chase’s life, his family had held Christmas at either Deacon or Grandpa’s house. It was just practical, both houses had much more space than their own little apartment could offer - especially the kitchen, where dishes and ingrediens traded surface as quickly as the overlapping conversation. Christmas at Grandpa’s was hanging lights, steaks and a buzzing TV. It was candy wrappers and a scratchy flooring as Chase tried to beat his cousin in card games. It was hiding behind the couch waiting for Santa, as they shushed each other.
Christmas at Deacon’s was… like if a chess board had taken Holly and jolly under a microscope. Prodded it in the sides and measured it for its exact design patterns and price tag, adjusted for ten percent snobbery. There were new faces each year, colleagues from Deacon’s parents’ work that joined around the dinner table — Deacon flanked by his parents, while Chase was pointed to the kids table well into his teenage years.
“So when winter comes around you’d totally be down for going into the corniest Hallmark book we can find?” Chase asked, poking Deacon in the side.
Deacon’s expression did something complicated and he looked aside.
“Cool magic, zero dinner talks, hot elf ladies.” Chase nudged him a few extra times, until Deacon lightly shoved him away.
“Okay, maybe.” He said. “But I’ll complain the entire time.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, okay no takebacksies—” Chase said. “Go do your fish novel, I’ll go check out Buddy’s Madam Christmas outfit and you’ll totally be missing out.”
“What?”
“Oh my god, there’s gonna be angel food and butter cake— Dorkin, this is the best yard sale you’ve ever bought. It’s getting ten out ten stars.”
“We haven’t even used any of those books yet—”
“Yeah, that’s how good it is.”
Deacon was about to make a rebuttal, but Bronze sleepily patted his forehead.
He deflated. “Okay, I hope you have fun. Just, please don’t do something stupid, like I don’t know try to get Buddy under a mistletoe.“
“I’m not gonna use the Holly spirit to force Buddy to smooch me.” Chase scrunched his nose. “I’m pretty sure the book would actually come after him if he said no and broke the rules of mistletoing or something.”
He turned to Silver. “Ready?”
“Yes!” She was practically vibrating, having steadily gathered up speed as the boys’ conversation was happening. “I’ve been looking at the ‘pinterest’ all morning, I think I understand how this holiday works. Oh, I have the most wonderous idea!”
Gently, he picked her up and she turned into a key.
A moment later, light enveloped him.
Faintly, he heard the sound of bells chiming in his ears.
────────────────────
The first thing Chase saw was a window view of a cozy old-timey town, where snowflakes gently drifted down. Golden lights spilled through the narrow streets below, while the black sky above was painted in a tapestry of stars. The window was tinted with frost and the dim sillohuet of his reflection looked back at him.
A warm wool sweater hugged him, much simpler than Silver’s usual designs. It was a soft white and neatly woven with cute little illustrations of snacks and candy — he delightfully spotted a gummi bear and peanutbutter sandwich in the pattern circling his wrists. A small scarf hung loosely around his neck.
Then he caught a slight swift in the window’s reflection, his only warning before a figure came up very close behind him. A warm palm glided over his shoulders and after a moment he felt a teasing voice murmur into his ear. “Feeling festive, are we?”
Chase crained his neck back, a smile breaking out on his face.
“Hi Bud.” He said.
Buddy hummed. His arms came around Chase to loosely hug him from behind.
“Well, well, I see your disposition to reading has claimed another victim.” Buddy said in a light tone. “I didn’t think you would lose track of the seasons, but I suppose calendars do tragically have words.”
“I know it’s summer.” Chase couldn’t quite give him a blank look and instead used the dim reflection. Their silhouettes were blurred into one and with each passing moment more warmth from Buddy's body seeped through to him.
Unbothered and unhurried, Buddy lightly rested his chin on Chase’s head. “Just making sure, little idiot.”
“Uhuh, do you know what month it is?”
Buddy took a long theatrical moment to think. “I don’t have to, I just pressumed you’d gotten it mixed up.”
“Be nice, you jerk.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Chase leaned back with a pout, knocking his head into Buddy’s chest. He remained there for some time as the night's quiet blanketed over them.
Eventually, Buddy said. “This is a small story, small cast. I assume we aren’t having company then?”
“Nope, just us.” Chase said. “Dorkin skipped, he’s taking Pru into a fish book or something.” He said with a self satisfied tone. “And Wave… I may or may not have written ‘no lover keys allowed’ on all the pages.”
Buddy chuckled, then muttered in a voice so low that Chase barely caught it despite their closeness. “Oh, that will break Ro’s little heart.”
Chase’s mind was more focused on the soft fabric rubbing against his cheek that gave his curiosity far too little to work with. He reluctantly leaned away.
“Move over, I wanna see what Violet made.” Chase said and tried to loosen their hug. When Buddy grumbled and didn’t immediately do as told, he tugged on him insistently. “Come on, scootch.”
Eventually Buddy released his hold, sliding down on the seat next to him. He leaned languidly against the window sill, holding the air of a dispassionate, elegant model on the front cover of a magazine.
Buddy was wearing a black fuzzy turtle neck tugged neatly into his high pants. The sweater’s black colour faded into a light grey on his sleeves and bottom. It had a much more modest feel than usual, but the sacrifice was traded for softer edges.
Several thin necklaces hung from his neck, reaching all the way down to his lower chest where little golden pendants mimicked a pocket-watch, a glitter bottle and a chocolate bar. Chase snorted at the last one, turning it around in his hand as Buddy quietly watched him. He was definitely wearing mascara, Chase didn’t even have to look up to confirm, the gaze on him was far too self satisfied to be otherwise.
Chase adjusted a bit of Buddy’s perfectly form-fitting turtle neck, straightening imaginery folds as he ran his hands loosely down his front. Buddy did indeed have a subtle brush of golden mascara on the side of his eyes. They crinkled as their gazes met.
“You look nice. Really nice.” Chase smiled.
Buddy finely dappled in his own elegant air. “Always.”
“And I…” Chase said.
“You look perfectly adequate for someone your size.”
Chase rolled his eyes. “Boooh, low blow.”
“Well, it’s the only kind of blow that would work on you— aargh!”
Buddy reared back from the blow. Chase lifted the pillow high above his head warningly, like a man about to drop a boulder from a cliff.
“Hey, now—” Buddy held out an arm placatingly, but a smirk played on his lip and his hand was obviously sneaking down for the ammunition cushioning the little window seat.
Chase said, “Nope.”
THWUMP.
And so, Chase went forward with returning the low blow in the most literal, practical and efficient manner. Unfortunately, Buddy soon sabotaged the barriages by batting away Chase’s arm, with a growing obnoxious smirk as the dirty trick kept working.
“Stop that!”
“Get smart, gigglemug.”
“That’s it—” Chase jumped forwards onto Buddy.
He crashed through the barrier all together, their limbs tangled as they scrambled for purchase on the little window seat. In a whirlwind, Chase came on top with a pillow raised and the fight devolved into a slugfest. Buddy played dirty, squirming around, trying to jap Chase in the sides and prefering stealing the pillow over taking his own, pushing it back in Chase’s face and redirecting his attacks.
“Truly- devolving to vi- violence when outwitted!”
“Say, I look nice!” Chase shouted, punchuating each his words with a smack.
“W-what are you? Twelve!?” Buddy shouted back. “Of co-course you look nice, you ninny. Is your growth spurt so terrible, that—” smack, he just barely shielded himself with an arm, “sarcasm flies over your head—” smack, his frame and voice was slightly shaking, “because in that case, I am w-well and truly sorry for your terrible condition—” smack, he broke into laughter.
Buddy squirmed a bit too much and they both yelped, as they tumbled off the window seat and onto the carpeted floor. Chase barely paused, using the moment to cage the grinning Buddy in with his arms, feeling rushing in his ears. Buddy tightened his hold on Chase and flipped them around, barely opening his mouth to gloat before due revenge pulled him down.
The pillow was abandoned and they tussled around like two monkeys in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs. Pure desire to be the winner on top plunged them into another flip, another jap, another dirty trick, underscored by giggles and rapidly devolving insults. Buddy’s hair had become a frizzled mess and Chase was sure he wasn’t any better, and he was absolutely sure he could make it worse—
Then, just as him and Buddy crashed together again, they both tumbled into the foot of something scratchy and tree shaped. Blinded by narrow vision and a heart pumping in their ears, neither had noticed their sorroundings until they full body collided into the very large Christmas tree.
Both of them froze.
The Christmas tree creaked. Groaned. And then fell over with a great crashing death rattle.
Its dozens and dozens of fancy ornaments scattered across the floor like a hundred marbles released, the garlands fell loose and the candle lights snuffed out, breaking upon landing.
In the wreckage, a single red ornament rolled over to bump against Chase’s knee.
For a moment there was no sound, except their heavy breaths.
“Uh, that'll fix itself…” Chase said. As his voice trailed off, he unsubtly glanced down at Buddy.
Buddy sighed and reluctantly nudged Chase to get off him. He got onto his knees to dust himself off.
“Unfortunately, no. This story is fa-” Buddy caught his own breath, “fairly simple, two children stay up late on Christmas night to watch the stars. But they eventually get bored and start to play with each other. In their game, they knock over their rather large and inconveniently placed Christmas tree, making a fine mess of things. Somehow that doesn’t wake up the entire house, and because they’re such good little angels they manage to fix it all up by morning.”
In unison their heads turned back to the downed Christmas tree, like how one would begrundingly acknowledge the finely decorated corpse in a crime scene. Ornaments and candles laid scattered across the carpet floor, only illuminated by what was left of the low-burning fireplace.
“In the end, they’re rewarded for their good behaviour.” Buddy continued, as if that could adequately post-pone the inevitable. “A fabulous personage comes by, plentiful gifts are given and—” He glanced over at Chase, contemplating for a moment before his lip quirked up. “Well, you'll see.”
Chase narrowed his eyes. “I mean it’s Christmas Eve, it’s not that hard to put together. Unlike your words, they’re hard to put together.” He added. “Nerd.”
Unfortunately for Chase, this scathing reading of Buddy’s general demanour of a smug victorian midwife and his rather outdated vocabulary meant that relatively modern words such as ‘nerd’, or ‘goth’ or yes even ‘jerk’ lost most their punch in translation. Naturally, Buddy had ears and could tell when he was being insulted to his face. He could figure out the meaning if he spend more than two fleeting seconds on it, but he chose not to. Because he prefered it that way.
“Impressive.” He smirked. “You got anything else to add?”
Looking the picture of peeved off, Chase sat with crossed arms and eyes narrowed in thinking that fed far too much into Buddy’s growing smirk. And maybe that unbearably smug air was exactly what snowballed the following.
After a moment, Chase got an almost speculative look on his face and his posture loosened. He shuffled closer, shrinking the distance between them. “I got an idea for something.” He said cryptically.
“Oh, really?” Buddy gladly took the distraction.
“Something good.” Chase said, a smile creeping into his voice. Slowly he pulled Buddy closer with the gleam in his eyes and his hand coming up to rest on his chest. Buddy leaned down, his smirk growing a little sharper to cover the skip in his heart. Idly, his arms trailed up to circle Chase again, holding him loosely.
Chase tilted his chin up. “I’ll do something nice for us, and you…”
“Yeah?” He murmured, as he hovered inches from Chase’s face.
Then Chase’s expression revealed that of a gleeful man who’d caught the fish on his line. He abruptly leaned back and patted Buddy affectionally on the cheek.
“Cool, thanks a lot Buddy!” He announced. “So, if you’re taking cleaning duty, I guess I’m taking baking duty. Like you have to have a cake duty person, I don’t make the rules, sorry—”
Within this moment and the next, Buddy got a dust cloud in his face as Chase escaped his hold and sped off towards the kitchen. It took several moments for his mind to catch up.
“Wha—” Buddy spluttered. “I didn’t agree to anything!”
“Yes, you did! You said ‘yeah’, that counts.”
“I said ‘yeah?’ You little— come back here!”
────────────────────
In the end, cleaning duty became more of a thirty-seventy division between the two — Buddy taking the bulk of the work on his shoulders, due to being given a restraining order from all kitchens a few books back, mostly after Buddy managed to set fire to a bread basket and then vehemently blamed it on the plot.
It took some effort on both their parts, but they were able to haul the tree back up to normal, after pushing past the poking pineneedles and bulking weight that should be far too large for their child characters. The damage to the tree and its ornaments was impressively minor, given how it reached high above their heads to ghost the ceiling in its full glory.
The fireplace was stoked to life by Buddy and now cast the large living room in a warm golden glow. It felt homey in the way of an idyllic Christmas special set vaguely in olden times, where the walls were built in fine dark oakwood, the smell of cinnamon and apple drifted from the kitchen and green garlands wrapped around the grandeous open staircase that lead upstairs. Several stockings hung neatly above the fireplace, waiting for their offerings.
Buddy was rummaging around on the floor, picking up the scattered ornaments into an evergrowing pile. One of them had fallen under the sofa and he glared at it, as if he could move it by sheer force of will. His cheek was inches from the floor and he really would have given up on it, if he wasn’t haunted by the knowledge that the ornament contained a truffel chocolate.
It was within this stalemate, that he felt a foot nudge his side and he glanced up.
Chase stood beside him, holding a tray filled to brim with goodies.
“Break?” He offered.
Buddy’s eyes wandered over to the little coffee table, where two mugs full of something steaming sat awaiting. If it was cocoa, then he may just marry Chase right then and there.
He sighed. “Well, if you insist.”
The coffee table was similarly decorated with little pine branches that they pushed aside to make room for the tray. Buddy blinked down at the colourful bombardment of goodies, little green triangle cakes, cookies, a fruit salad and big chunks of solid chocolate cake. The sheer power of the display bend even the rules of logic, as Buddy felt his very pupils dilate.
Folding his legs together on the sofa, all pomp and manner dilligently drilled into his head was abandoned, as Buddy shovelled in cake like he was sat before his last meal. He felt the sofa dip as Chase joined him and whatever noise of contentment was coming out his mouth made the other smile.
“I know, I make amazing brownies, thank you for noticing.” Chase said, his arm fitting itself comfortably between Buddy’s back and the sofa.
Buddy didn’t answer for a while, on account of gourging himself fat on goodies.
Eventually he said, “These aren’t from the book.”
“No dur. It’s Grandpa’s recipe, I’m pretty sure any book would have pry them from his cold dead hands.” Chase said, casually tracing circles on Buddy’s back. “I wanted us to try them.”
Buddy looked up. Chase’s expression was open, his entire body resting back against the sofa as he idly watched Buddy. His lip quirked up when their eyes met and Buddy felt something deep inside his chest melt at the sight.
“They’re good.” Buddy tried to hopelessly return even a fraktion of his sincerity.
“I’m glad.” Chase said simply.
This time, Buddy reached out with little pomp or smugness. He glided a hand over Chase’s cheek, carrasing it for a moment, before tilting their faces together. He felt the corner of Chase’s smile widen under his fingertip, before they met in a kiss. He lingered for a moment, short and sweet, and guided by habit to leave it as that. But he had barely left it, before Chase wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him back in.
The kiss melted from lingering to steady, time faded away to grand them what they would usually have to sneak off to steal a minute for. Buddy’s fingers found purchase in Chase’s hair and coaxed a soft noise from him that made static overtake his mind. Their hands roamed each other without worry, as they took all the time they wanted to giddly make out on the sofa. Because they could.
When they eventually pulled apart, catching their breaths, Chase scootched closer and made himself comfortable in the crook of Buddy’s neck.
Idle talk passed between them for a while after that, Chase told some of the traditions he’d grown up with, while Buddy hummed and injected once in a while. He didn’t have much to offer himself, when he’d been growing up it was an opportunity for little more than charity from strangers, empty stores in the eve where a wellplaced lockpick would last him through the cold and brushing quickly past golden lit windows where wealthy folks gathered together in cheer.
“Those kids already have a warm home and comfortable bed and family to tuck them in.” Buddy said. “They have more gifts than they likely know what to do with, their mistake was easily repairable.” He leaned down to pick up an ornament and turned it around in his hand, seeming to study its glittery gold-rimmed pattern. “I hardly see why they deserve another special treatment.”
“Well, they’re not the ones getting it. We are.” Chase said, touching lightly upon the well beneath Buddy’s words. He nudged their shoulders together. “What was the reward again?”
After a moment, Buddy let out a huff and his tension eased.
“It’s an odd one.” He said. “Whichever liberties the author is taking, I’m fairly certain Saint Nicolas doesn’t usually…” His voice trailed off and he stared at the air like he was trying to read the dust particles wandering through it.
“I…” He paused and reread the dust particles again. “The story seems normal enough in parts. Like, towards the ends it says: Saint Nick exclaimed. ‘May you have a very wonderous and gay Christmas, one and all—’”
For some reason, Chase let out a loud surprised snort of laughter. When Buddy simply turned to him befuddled, Chase snickered. “You think the author did that on purpose?”
“Did what?”
“I—” Chase said. “Wha— haha, what else did he say?”
Buddy weighed whether he wanted to know, while Chase snickered around his piece of triangle butter cake.
“Well.” Buddy said. “He bellowed a laugh, his great white beard bouncing with jolly.”
“I wish my beard bounced with jolly.”
“You couldn’t grow a beard if you tried.” Buddy smirked.
“Hey, don’t rub it in.” Chase said with a pout. “What if I wanted to start my mall Santa side gig after touring the country as a pop star for thirty succesful years? You wanna crush my dreams, Buddy? Before they even started?”
“Absolutely.”
“Dude.” Chase put a hand on his chest, collapsing crestfallen back against the sofa.
Buddy snickered.
“Hey, do you think the parents are comatosed?” Chase wondered aloud, his head tilting up to stare at the ceiling. “Cause if I was a parent and my kid was banging pots and pans without me, I’d come down to see what the fuss was.”
“They aren’t supposed to wake up. Even with the tree falling over, the children needed the chance to repair their mess on their own. I don’t believe you could wake them up if you tried.”
There was a brief but suspicious pause.
He glanced over at Chase. “Don’t try.”
“Boooh. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I can tragically try.”
Chase snickered.
“Also, they’re only my character’s parents.” Buddy said. “The children’s families are simply neighbours. Friends invited over for the evening.”
“Your parents’ ears need checking.”
“Certainly. I’ll write them a formal letter.” Buddy said. “But I believe your own ears may need as well.”
Chase’s brows furrowed, a ‘wha-’ half forming. But Buddy shushed him, holding a finger to his own lips. In the silence that followed, Chase was able to finally hear it. A small scraping noise coming from deep up inside the chimney. He looked to see little bits of dust falling down on the fireplace, both the noise and dust growing heavier for each second. Then the fire was snuffed out and the room fell dark.
Buddy tugged on Chase’s sleeve, guiding them both to crouch down on the floor, where the sofa sat like a blockade between them and the fireplace. Chase followed, a child-like smile forming on his lips that he made no effort to stiffle.
Silently, Buddy counted down with his fingers, from three-two-one—
BOOOM.
They both kept their heads down, as a dust cloud erupted out of the dead fireplace. There was a moment of silence, then the slighest shuffle of fabric. They felt rather than heard someone’s presence in the room. Footsteps, light and quiet as feathers, crossed the floor.
Slowly both of them peaked over the sofa.
Buddy squinted in the low light. Where Chase’s giddy smile grew, Buddy just grew confused.
“Wait, but that’s not Saint… Is that Father Christmas?” Buddy whispered ever so quietly. “Why is he red?”
A hand tugged on his sleeve. “Buddy.”
He reluctantly tore his eyes away. “What?”
“We forgot to finish the tree.” Chase whispered, his own voice as low as a mouse.
Buddy glanced over. Indeed, the ornaments which were supposed to neatly decorate the tree by this point, instead laid in a large dark pile on the floor, barely visible in the dim light streaming in from the window. Like a gift-shaped hazard waiting to be tripped on. And the Father Nicolas fusion was obliviously heading straight towards it.
Chase was about to call out, but Buddy slapped a hand over his mouth, an urge to stay quiet overtaking him that he could neither place nor resist. Instead, they both just watched.
Thankfully, warnings turned out to be unnecessary.
The Father stopped all on his own just a foot from the pile.
He looked down, taking in how it laid so innocently at his feet.
Then, he made a small ‘tsk tsk’ noise. Not sad or angry, just disappointed in the naughty children who’d been having a wonderful time indeed, but neglected their chores all the while.
Chase retreated into himself like a turtle.
Buddy did no such thing, because Buddy had never had a parent to disappoint in his life. He was a young man, a grown man who had long passed the need and wish for such a thing. And yet, Buddy felt something strange stir in his chest, like one of the great eyes of the world had turned on him and whispered to its fellow eyes that this boy was a sad little embarrasment indeed, and he did not enjoy it one bit.
“L-let’s go. I know something better for us.” Buddy whispered, batting away the feeling like one would a hot potato.
“Yup.” Chase nodded immediately. “Sounds great.”
Taking Chase’s hand, Buddy pulled him towards the staircase with quiet but hurried steps. Chase was following his guidance blindly, still peaking over his shoulder the entire time at the scene in the living room, as if he couldn’t quite help himself.
They made it upstairs, where Buddy lead them quickly through the hallway. From there, he snuck them into a little bedroom and over to the tilted roof window, where he grabbed the handle and cranked it open. A small breeze of frosty winter air flowed past them, Chase blinked against it.
Buddy crawled up on the window seat, before finally slowing down. He turned to Chase and tenatively tugged on their connected hands.
With a curious tilt of his head, Chase let himself be guided out the window and onto the roof. His breath immediately became white, as the cold air enveloped them in greeting. Something like bell chimes and sounds of scrapping hoofs filled his ears, but his eyes were strictly fixed on his footing.
They had to let go of each other for a moment, as they climbed up the side of the roof to reach the top. Their feet sank into the heavy snow, sliding once or twice but to no more harm than their racing heartbeats. They managed to climb up and Chase’s white breath stuttered, as he lets out a winded laugh.
“Look.” Buddy said, pointing. His eyes were rested on Chase and took in each detail as he looked up.
A dozens lights reflected in Chase’s eyes. He gasped and his eyes widened to plates.
A flock of reindeers watched them curiously. They were small, brown and dressed in a golden horse collars which lead back to a small sleigh filled to the brim with gifts. As one of the reindeers dared a little closer, something in its fur glittered like starlight and sugar.
Chase let out a delighted squee. “Oh my god, they’re like long legged puppies with antlers!”
“Disturbing image.”
Chase reached out an open palm and the reindeer accepted it gladly, its warm snout pushed into him insistently. Chase matched the energy, showing it with pets as he would with a very social horse at home. He looked around. “Aww, where’s Rudolf?”
Buddy was leaning against the chimney, watching Chase fuss over the reindeer, while a smile tugged at his lip. “Who—” He began, but just as he spoke, one of the other deers got a taste for attention and tried to nibble on his sleeve. “Hey!”
He escaped over to Chase’s side, while throwing a warning glare at those within nibbling distance. Threading their hands together again, he said a bit regretably. “There’s not much of the plot left… Let’s get downstairs before Saint Nick returns. We can probably take a bite or two of your pastries, before the children are supposed to see the sleigh fly away through the window.”
“Sure,” Chase said but then pointed a thumb at the sleigh, “oooor… we could sneak in, wait and go flying.”
Buddy paused. He looked at the sleigh, then back at Chase. “You do know the story isn’t more than this house?”
“So?”
“It’s gonna kick us out of the book.” His grip on Chase’s hand tightened minutely.
Chase shrugged. “It might kick us out.”
“It definitely will. Saint Nick has a sleigh, he flies to this house. There’s not much more to the story.”
“Buuut books will fill out the gaps when they have to. Remember the cat book, it filled out with stuff the author wrote between the lines. So… we could also not get kicked out and flight around the whole globe or see like Santa’s workshop. Cause everyone who celebrates Christmas knows where the story goes.”
“His what?”
"Almost everyone. Uh, the author definitely hundred percent knows.”
Buddy squinted at Chase who tugged temptingly on their connected hands.
“…Theoretically speaking.” Buddy began. “If one were to take the book by the letter, the story will end in the morning, once all gifts are given and sunrise comes up to greet the snowy town awake.”
“Love taking things by the letter. My favorite thing actually.”
Buddy huffed a laugh and allowed himself to be tugged towards the back of the sleigh. He gazed up at the night sky, where a thousand stars reflected themselves in his eyes. A thought pushed its way to the front of his mind, laid out its cards and its case and pointed to the warm feeling flittering around in his chest as its winning closing argument.
“Chase? C-can we—” Buddy paused, tried again. “Can we go into another book like this someday?”
“Like this?” Chase gestured lightly around them, the sleigh, the impossibly starry sky and the idyllic view of the snowy town. Then he brought their clasped hands up to press a lingering kiss on the back of Buddy’s hand and asked.“Or this?”
Buddy’s expression melted into something he had no words for. He said. “This.”
He didn’t really care what decoration hung on the wall or what word one had to envoke to call upon a warm home with all the food and time they could need. He just wanted this to be more than one night.
He thought that maybe sometimes the world could decide to be kind on him and drop a gift in his lap, where he expected brimstone and fire. Maybe Buddy could treat his gift with rapt attention and hold him in a hug that braved the cold around them.
Maybe, it was okay for them to believe that their hearts’ wish could come true.