YOU’D BEST START BELIEVING IN CHRISTMAS STORIES, BOY… BECAUSE YOU’RE IN ONE

1:53 AM 12/21/2024

Pleasantview, Virginia, United States of America

Kabru had never believed in Santa Claus, and his refusal to believe had been a point of contention and frustration with his foster mother up until he finally moved out of her house. Why would some supernatural entity give eight billion people free presents every year? In what kind of world did that make any sense? It was theologically, economically, and psychologically incomprehensible, as far as Kabru was concerned.

Yet Kabru's foster mother wasn’t the only person who believed in the “winter miracle”, which was what non-Christians called it if they didn’t have a holiday of their own that they attributed the “magically” appearing gifts to, like Sankranti, Dongzhi, or Hanukkah.

Kabru knew that he was very much in the minority. People from all parts of the world and of every religion seemed to believe in the impractical, illogical fantasy that a supernatural force bestowed free gifts to every person on Earth once a year, during the winter months.

The exact day and circumstances of delivery varied, but Kabru was certain that these gifts were just adults giving presents to each other and to their children, and lying about it… But for some reason nobody wanted to acknowledge the truth, and acted like Kabru was the one who was delusional.

He’d learned to keep his opinion to himself, because when he mentioned to people like his coworkers at the hospital that he didn’t believe in Santa or the “winter miracle”, they always gave him a pitying sort of look, and changed the subject in a hurry.

From a young age, Kabru had seen too much of the ugliness of the world to believe in things like Santa, and he had proof to back up his beliefs: Since he’d moved out of his foster mother’s house, there had been no magically manifesting presents in his home. He lived alone, so if presents had kept showing up, that would have been proof that Santa or the “winter miracle” were real. But there were no presents, ergo Santa did not exist. Or so Kabru had thought…

But if Santa didn’t exist, why was there a person in a festive green, white and gold outfit laying on the floor of Kabru’s living room in a puddle of… Was that blood? It didn’t look right, and it smelled like mint, not copper. Kabru was an ER doctor, so he was intimately familiar with the smells of various bodily fluids, and mint didn’t show up anywhere in his mental catalog of possibilities.

Hesitantly, he turned on the living room light, a metal baseball bat still clutched in his other hand. The whole reason he was out here at 2 in the morning was because he’d heard a loud crashing sound, and had grabbed the bat he kept under his bed and come to check what the cause of the noise was.

The strangely dressed person was laying face-down on the floor, next to the fireplace, but their sudden and unexpected presence in Kabru’s house had him worried that this was some kind of weird home invasion ploy. So he kept his grip on the bat just to be safe.

“Hey,” Kabru called out to the unmoving figure. “Are you okay?”

No response. Kabru moved closer, and realized with a start that the “blood puddle” wasn’t entirely red. He’d thought his neighbor’s Christmas lights, flashing outside his windows, had been fooling his eyes… But the small pool of liquid on the laminate wood floor was… Striped. Red and white striped. Like a goddamn candy cane. That didn’t make any sense. Liquids didn’t work like that. Blood didn’t work like that.

Blood also didn’t smell like peppermint, but Kabru was trying to ignore the many things he was observing right now that didn’t make sense.

Satisfied that there wasn’t anybody else in the room waiting to jump him, Kabru set the bat down and approached the body. Once he got closer he could see that the person was still breathing, so Kabru knelt down to try and identify the source of the bleeding and ascertain if the person had a head or neck injury.

His hands had just barely touched the floppy green and white hat they were wearing when the person suddenly flipped over and caught Kabru by both wrists in a bruising, iron-like grip. Kabru yelped like a kicked dog and toppled backwards in his attempt to get away, and dragged the person after him, thanks to the intensity of their grip, and the relative lightness of their body.

So now Kabru was flat on his back, with a wide-eyed person… a man? Kneeling on top of him, gripping him by both wrists, staring down at him with a pair of black, mismatched eyes. The man’s hair was silver, his face was stark white, and there were a pair of pink circles painted on his cheeks. There was blood (Kabru could not see enough detail to know if it was also striped) between his gritted teeth.

(One black eye was aimed in the wrong direction. Maybe he had been hit in the head? Or had a stroke? Why was he in Kabru’s living room though? Why the puddle of candy cane blood?)

“H-hey, take it easy,” Kabru said, used to dealing with disoriented and frightened patients. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I was trying to check and see if you were okay.”

“...Shit,” the man said, frowning intensely. He let go of Kabru’s wrists, and first patted at his chest as if looking for something, before he started to pat at the belt around his waist, which had several brown leather pouches hanging from it. “Shit,” he repeated, with greater feeling, when he apparently didn’t find whatever he was looking for.

“Um, could you let me up?” Kabru asked hopefully. “And tell me why you’re in my house?”

“You shouldn’t know that I’m here,” the man muttered, but he un-straddled Kabru… and promptly fell over onto the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Whoah! Be careful!” Kabru said, pushing himself up and getting on his knees to check on the guy. Now that he was laying on his back, and the lights were on, Kabru could see that there was a dark, striped stain across the abdomen of his clothes. “What happened to you? What are you?”

“Unbelievable,” the man muttered, covering his face with both hands. “After thousands of years of loyal service, this is how I die, getting asked 20 questions by a humbug in a blacklisted house in the middle of nowhere, because I slipped up one time--”

“Hey, hey, nobody’s dying!” Kabru interrupted him. “I’m not going to let you die.” He stood up in a hurry and pointed at the man. “Don’t move! I’m getting my first aid kit. I’m a doctor. You’re going to be fine.”

Thankfully the kitchen cabinet where he kept his first aid kit wasn’t far from the living room in Kabru’s small open-concept house, so Kabru was able to fetch it in a hurry. The man was still in the same spot he’d left him when he returned.

“I’m going to take off some of your clothes so I can see how bad it is, and try to bandage you up,” Kabru said, unbuckling the man’s belt when he didn’t protest. Under normal circumstances, Kabru probably would have just called for an ambulance and applied pressure while he waited, but with the incomprehensible candy cane blood, he wasn’t sure that the ER was going to be much more help than he was currently. If this guy needed a transfusion, what were they going to do? Start melting down the Christmas display in the lobby?

Under the green and white tunic was an undershirt which was similarly soaked with the man’s red and white striped blood, and stretched taut across rippling chest and abdominal muscles. Not really expecting to see such well defined hills and valleys, Kabru found himself staring for a moment, bewildered and a bit impressed.

“Are you… real?” he found himself asking. His fingertips were now stained with red and white stripes too. It felt like blood, even though it looked like Kabru had gotten his hands painted at a carnival booth.

“I’m in real pain,” the man responded with a grimace. “Quit staring and hurry up.”

Wondering if his sex life was so lacking that he was hallucinating attractive men having medical crises in his house, Kabru gingerly peeled the bloody shirt away from the man’s body, and found that there was a surprisingly small and clean-looking puncture wound with nothing obvious in it, and that seemed to be all that was wrong. It wasn’t even bleeding that heavily anymore, so Kabru cleaned the exterior of the wound as best he could, before taping down an absorbent gauze pad on top of it.

Suddenly, there was a loud, terrifying roaring sound, like a monster in a scary movie. Although the noise made Kabru cringe in fear, he also caught the look of recognition on the man’s face. He clearly knew what was making that sound, and wasn’t happy about it.

“What the hell was that?” Kabru demanded. The man didn’t answer, and Kabru pushed down firmly on the bandaged wound with the heel of his hand, applying more pressure than was strictly necessary. “Hey! Answer me. What was that? What happened to you? Why are you in my house?”

“I jumped down your chimney,” the man wheezed, his voice coming out like Kabru was forcing it from his body. “To get away from it.”

“Keep talking,” Kabru said flatly, continuing to press down on the man’s abdomen with purpose.

“Alright, alright, okay, I’ll talk,” the man said, voice straining as he started swatting at Kabru ineffectually. “But quit pushing so damn hard.”

Kabru eased off slightly, but kept applying light pressure. “I still need to press on it for a little bit,” he told him, more gently. “Is this okay?”

“S’fine,” the man wheezed again, staring up at the dark ceiling with a dazed look on his face. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore… My name’s Mithrun. I’m a level 5 security specialist for the logistics department.”

Kabru had no idea what any of that meant, but since Mithrun had finally started talking, he remained silent and waited for him to continue.

“I was preparing the delivery route through this area, when I noticed unusually high negative energy readings. That can attract monsters, so I moved in to investigate… And they ambushed me.”

“What ambushed you?” Kabru asked, unable to hold the question in any longer. Though he hadn’t understood most of what Mithrun was telling him, this was the part he was the most concerned about.

“A krampus. Two krampii. I didn’t see the second one coming...”

“...okay, probably a stupid question, but what’s a krampus?” Kabru asked. He jolted slightly when he heard the heavy thumping of something moving around on the roof overhead. It sounded like an elephant was on top of his house, and about to come crashing through the ceiling. “...is that a krampus?”

“Yuh,” Mithrun responded. “They’re monsters that feed off of people’s sadness. Look like big goat-men. They know I’m inside, and they want to finish me off.”

“Why?” Kabru asked, his forehead creasing in confusion.

“I told you, I’m a level 5--” Mithrun started to say, but apparently he realized repeating himself wasn’t going to help, and he heaved a huge frustrated sigh. “I work for Santa Claus. They want to stop us from bringing joy to the world.”

“Santa’s not real,” Kabru said, feeling a little bit hysterical.

“You’re applying pressure to a stab wound on an elf,” Mithrun replied. “Santa’s real. He writes my paychecks.”

“Maybe you just have pointy ears and like wearing weird clothing,” Kabru insisted desperately. Mithrun took a deep breath, held it, and then sighed it out a moment later, clearly struggling to be patient.

“Don’t believe in Santa Claus, huh?”

“...No. Never have.”

“Well, you may not believe in Santa, but those things outside are real, whether you believe in them or not. And if you want to live, you’re going to have to believe in me, at least for a little bit.”

Almost as if on cue, Kabru heard the sound of something very large snuffing and clawing at one of the nearby windows. When he whipped his head around to look, he felt his blood freeze at the sight of a huge, monstrous, hairy face outside the glass. It was somewhere between a man and a goat, but much uglier than either, and it was drooling as it tried to get purchase on something outside the window with its teeth, like it was going to tear the window apart with its mouth.

“Okay,” Mithrun said, his tone stern. “Let me up. I’m going to go outside and lead them away. They won’t come back and bother you once they have me. As long as you stay inside until sunrise, you’ll be safe.”

“‘Have you’?” Kabru echoed dumbly. “What does that mean, ‘have you’? What are they going to do to you?”

“They’ll eat me,” Mithrun said with so little emotion that Kabru wasn’t sure he’d heard him right at first. “It’s fine. I’ve already lost. I can’t communicate with Elf Traffic Control like this, and--”

“Eat you,” Kabru once again echoed the elf’s words, before the outrage and horror he was feeling burst out of him in a torrent of words. “Eat you?! And it’s fine!? It’s not fine!”

“If I don’t go, they’re going to break in here and eat both of us!” Mithrun replied sharply, forcing himself to sit up, and pushing Kabru away roughly. “And I can’t allow that to happen to you, blacklisted humbug or not, you’re a mortal. It’s my job to ensure your safety.”

There was something like grim satisfaction on Mithrun’s face as he tugged his tunic closed and re-buckled his belt. “I always knew this was how it would happen…You know, a krampus nearly got me once, when I was young and stupid. They’re going to finally finish the job now…”

“No!” Kabru insisted, desperate. “Absolutely not! I can’t let you kill yourself just to protect me. There’s got to be some other way. Can’t we barricade ourselves somewhere, and wait for the sun to rise?”

“I won’t last that long without proper medical care,” Mithrun said, resigned. “I know you’ve done your best, but I’m already dying, and this bandaid isn’t going to stop that.” He fixed Kabru with a stoic and unflinching look. “Krampii this size are quite strong. Once they breach the house’s exterior, it’s all over. I won’t be able to protect you. But if I lead them away--”

“No,” Kabru protested feebly, feeling desperate. “Please. Don’t go out there. I’d rather… Even if there’s only a small chance that you survive--” his voice twisted in his throat as he struggled to speak through the sudden surge of emotion overwhelming him. “Let’s hide together instead. I can’t let you go out there for me.”

Every doctor lost patients sometimes, especially working in the ER. Kabru had never been good at handling that part of his job, and the thought of sending this man he’d just met out into the cold and dark to die so Kabru could live was fundamentally opposed to everything he wanted in life.

The elf seemed to be considering Kabru’s request, despite his earlier determination to sacrifice himself.

“...There’s one other possibility,” Mithrun said hesitantly. Kabru’s heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of his chest as he held his breath in anticipation and desperate, raw hope. “It’s a long shot. Humbugs never put them out, so I don’t know why you’d have it in your house…” The elf took a deep breath and asked: “Do you… Have any milk and cookies?”

Kabru felt like he was on the edge of a full blown hysterical panic attack. Milk and cookies. What the hell was Mithrun going to do with milk and cookies?!

“Will that really help?” Kabru asked, but before Mithrun could answer, something slammed against the nearby window, and shards of glass flew everywhere with a thunderous shattering sound. “Okay, milk and cookies!” he shouted, leaping to his feet and running to the kitchen.

The krampus roared outside, and the sound was no longer muffled by the window glass. In Kabru’s peripheral vision he very briefly saw its huge hairy arm groping around the inside of the window it had punched through… But Kabru couldn’t stop to stare at the monster, he was focused on tearing through his cupboards to try and find the box of cookies he knew he had somewhere.

When he finally found it he grabbed the box of black and white sandwich cookies off the shelf, and tore it open with frantic haste that made the packaging burst apart, cookies flying in every direction.

“Oh, Oreos, nice.” he heard Mithrun say, sounding pleased. Despite the blood loss, the elf had somehow managed to follow him.

Mithrun began to pick up cookies that were scattered on the countertop and floor as Kabru yanked the refrigerator door open. The elf shoved a handful of cookies into his mouth, and started to chew. Behind him, Kabru could see the krampus was trying to tear open the wall around the window to make an opening large enough for its huge body, roaring all the while. Kabru heard what he thought must be another window breaking elsewhere in the house, and his hands shook as he unscrewed the cap on a carton of milk that felt terrifyingly light in his hands. Had he finished it all with his coffee this morning? Please be enough, he begged the universe.

Once the carton was open Kabru shoved it at the elf who upended and drank directly from it, milk running down his chin in his rush to eat and drink the apparently restorative food. Kabru wasn’t sure what any of this was supposed to accomplish, and though fear had made him desperate to believe that it would do something, he was still surprised when red, green and gold sparks shot out from the elf’s body, and Mithrun began to glow.

The elf threw his arms out above his head and stretched, and though Kabru couldn’t see anything about his wound changing thanks to his clothes, he saw the man’s posture change from pained and a little lopsided to confident and relaxed, presumably because he was no longer suffering from a massive abdominal puncture.

Mithrun threw the empty milk carton aside carelessly, and flashed a smug smile at Kabru that made him forget to breathe. He really needed to get out more often. When was the last time he’d gotten laid? The fact that he couldn’t remember was probably a bad sign.

“Did--did it work--are you okay--?” he started to ask, tripping over his own words as the glow that had engulfed Mithrun engulfed everything inside the house that Kabru could see. Kabru heard squeals of pain come from the krampus, and it rapidly withdrew its arm and head from the hole it had torn in the wall as if the glowing had hurt it somehow.

“Yes, I’m fine now, thanks to you,” Mithrun said calmly. Glowing silver glyphs appeared in the air around the broken wall, and the material began to rebuild itself. A moment later the window and wall were back the way they had been just minutes ago, before the krampus had smashed them.

“I’ll go outside and take care of them,” Mithrun told him.

“W-wait!” Kabru stammered, and he turned away from the elf to dig through one of his kitchen cabinets again. “Is this--- will this help?” He asked, offering Mithrun a box of candy canes that had been gathering dust, stale and forgotten since whenever someone had gifted them to him. Kabru had no idea how any of this worked, what the rules were, or why it was like this, but he wanted to help in any way he could. Candy canes were a Christmas food, right?

The elf, no longer glowing, looked extremely amused by this and accepted the box without hesitation before tugging one candy cane out of the paper packaging that held all the individual candy canes together.

“I don’t strictly need this, but it’s useful,” he said, before he tore the plastic packaging off the candy cane with his teeth, and stuck the straight end of it into his mouth and sucked on it.

Kabru stared, bewildered, awestruck, and kind of horny as the man pulled the candy cane out of his mouth an instant later, and the long end had been sharpened into an impossibly fine point, like a stiletto knife. How the hell had he done that? Shouldn’t it take longer? Was his mouth filled with acid? Did his tongue spin around in there like a medical centrifuge?

“Stay. Inside. The house.” Mithrun instructed him, pointing his candy cane shank in Kabru’s face for emphasis, before vanishing abruptly in a cloud of sugar-cookie scented smoke.

Of course Kabru stumbled his way to every window in the house, peering outside in the darkness to try and see anything at all. It was snowing, and the Christmas lights on the neighboring houses reflecting off the white snow that blanketed everything outside felt terribly blinding. Briefly, Kabru thought back to dark nights in Utaya, and how bright the stars had seemed there, against the pitch black sky.

He really couldn’t see much of anything outside right now, but every time he thought he saw a giant, hairy form moving in the darkness, moments later he saw a smaller figure, clad in green and gold, darting around, chasing, hunting the monster that had so recently been a threat to them. Occasionally there were flashes of red, gold and silver light that didn’t come from any of his neighbor’s tacky Christmas displays.

I hope he’ll be okay, he thought desperately. Please be okay.

Kabru realized suddenly that his cheeks were wet and his nose was running. He sniffed, and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his pajama shirt. Had he been crying this whole time? Is that why Mithrun had listened to him? His face burned at the idea, but if crying like a little kid was what it took to save a man’s life, Kabru didn’t mind doing it, even if it was humiliating.

It felt like a lot of time was passing as he stood there, face pressed against the cold glass, covering his mouth with one hand to try and keep his breath from fogging it up as he strained to keep track of what was happening outside. A few times he wondered if it was over, if Mithrun had died, or simply left, but each time just as he was about to give up hope, he saw another burst of sparkling lights and glowing symbols in the air and he knew the elf was still out there, fighting the krampii.

He was startled out of his reverie when something very large fell to the ground in front of his house with an earth-shaking crash that made everything in Kabru’s kitchen clatter inside of their cabinets. A huge pale figure was sprawled across the snow, its giant spiraling horns sparkling in the Christmas lights. What the hell were they made of? Ice? Crystal? They looked like they were covered in glitter like a Christmas ornament, but Kabru’s logical mind insisted that couldn’t possibly be true, so they had to be something else. A moment later there was a second crash, this time on the roof. Kabru cringed instinctively, looking up at the source of the sound. He saw dust and bits of plaster fluttering down from the ceiling thanks to the violent impact.

Peering outside again, Kabru could see the krampus in much greater detail than he cared to, thanks to his motion-activated driveway light that had switched on when the thing fell. It had all the worst features of both a human being and a goat mixed together in a very unsettling way, and Kabru could think of very few things in his life that he’d seen that were worse. Maybe that one very bad motorcycle accident he’d had to help with during his school days.

There was something familiar about the krampus too, like it was something he had seen before, though he couldn’t remember where… The hands, in particular, with their gnarled and chipped human-like nails, made something unpleasant turn over inside of Kabru’s belly, like he needed to use the toilet. He forced himself to look away from the fallen krampus, and turned his mind to his next immediate problem: his driveway was now blocked.

Kabru was one of the people at the hospital that always worked all the days leading up to and after Christmas, both because he didn’t celebrate the holiday but also because he wanted to cover for his coworkers who did, and let them have their time with their friends and families. He did get time and a half for his trouble, but the extra pay really wasn’t why he did it.

How was he going to get that thing off his driveway so he could get to work in the morning? Would Mithrun move it for him somehow? Would Kabru have to call someone to move it? Would anyone be willing to come do it? Would a snow plow work, or would they need a crane? Maybe he’d need to call a taxi to get to work?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and when Mithrun stepped through it, dusting snow off of his shoulders casually, Kabru felt relief flood through him. He wanted to ask if the man was okay, if he’d been hurt, if he needed anything, but for some reason when he opened his mouth the first thing that came out was “That door was locked, wasn’t it?”

He always came in through his garage, so unless he’d left his front door unlocked all week long, it must have been locked, right?

“Locks can’t keep us out,” Mithrun replied haughtily. “All doors open for my kind.”

“Oh,” Kabru said, not knowing how to respond to that. “Are they…”

“You’re safe now, the krampii are dead,” Mithrun confirmed, taking off his hat and tucking it into his belt with the air of someone who knew it was rude to keep his hat on inside, and intended to stay long enough for it to matter. “Do you have any hot cocoa?”

“Are you hurt?” Kabru asked, instantly worried, and assuming cocoa might have the same healing properties as the milk and cookies Mithrun had consumed a little while ago.

“No, I’m just thirsty,” the elf responded. “I lost a lot of blood, and it’s cold outside.”

“I might have something,” Kabru said, turning to look at his small kitchen. “Um, why don’t you sit down in the living room? I’ll bring it over when it’s done.”

Like the candy canes, which had been a gift from someone that Kabru had never bothered eating, he knew he had a box of fancy hot cocoa powder that his real estate agent had given him as a housewarming present. It only took him a minute of searching to find it, and after consulting the instructions briefly, he spooned some cocoa and peppermint scented powder into two mugs, and used his coffee pod machine to pour hot water (not exactly boiling, but close enough) into each.

In his peripheral vision he noticed a sudden burst of light from the living room, and when he looked over, he saw the elf standing in front of the fireplace, which now had a merrily burning fire inside of it, casting an orange and gold glow on the entire living room and kitchen area, and creating the unmistakable scent of real wood smoke.

“Um,” Kabru said, as his coffee pod machine hissed and smoked as it ran out of water. “That uh… that’s an LED. There’s a space heater behind the fake log…”

“Don’t worry, I fixed it,” the elf said mysteriously, which just made Kabru worry even more than he’d already been doing, but decided the best course of action was to say nothing else about it. He turned his attention back to the hot cocoa in front of him. The powder had clumped up a bit on the surface of the water, so he stirred each mug vigorously for a bit, before taking them to the living room.

Mithrun was now sitting on the sofa next to the fire, and looking at the bottle Kabru kept there for his evening nightcap.

“You drink a lot of this stuff?” the elf asked, examining the large, half-empty bottle of vodka that Kabru frequently relied on to help him sleep. He figured the single glass he kept by the bottle probably told the story vividly enough that he didn’t need to spell it out for the elf, and Mithrun apparently thought so too, since he kept talking: “This will kill you if you’re not careful. You should at least drink something that’s better quality.”

“I’ve got it under control,” Kabru said curtly, not wanting to discuss the topic further. He handed Mithrun one of the mugs of hot cocoa.

“Thanks,” the elf said, taking the mug and pouring a generous helping of vodka in it, before holding out the bottle towards Kabru in wordless offering.

“I thought you wanted me to be careful?” Kabru asked, taking a seat next to the elf, and holding out his mug with two hands.

“You’ve had a rough night,” Mithrun said, pouring a generous amount of vodka into Kabru’s mug, and then setting the bottle back down. “And so have I.”

Despite the fact that Kabru knew his fireplace shouldn’t have a real log or a real fire in it, he had to admit the sight, smell and sound of a real fire had a nice, calming effect that the LED and space heater had never managed to replicate, the few times he’d bothered to use it.

“Um, when you go, can you move the uh… Krampus that’s on my driveway?” he asked. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’ll be gone when the sun rises,” Mithrun replied, sipping his cocoa. He looked around the room briefly, and then back at Kabru. “Are you going somewhere to celebrate with family in the morning?”

“No, going to work,” Kabru replied, holding the hot mug of cocoa in both hands, enjoying the warmth it provided. “People don’t stop having medical emergencies just because it’s a holiday.”

“So you just stay here all winter, like this?” Mithrun asked, gesturing at the small, sparsely furnished living room. There was a fireplace, a flatscreen TV mounted above it, a sofa, a coffee table, and a small shrine off to one side, with a garland of flowers, unlit incense, and an orange set out in offering.

“Yeah, just me,” Kabru replied, feeling like he was being judged on some kind of metric and rule set that he didn’t understand, and therefore couldn’t hope to live up to. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Maybe nobody taught you how to keep house properly…” Mithrun said under his breath, more to himself than to Kabru. Then, to Kabru: “You don’t have to have a tree, but where are we supposed to leave presents without a clearly marked drop-off zone? Even a circular area rug, or some fairy lights would make it easier for my people to do their jobs. And obviously an offering would be good, I see you’ve got incense, but most of us don’t care for the stuff, too crunchy--”

“The incense isn’t for you,” Kabru snapped at him, suddenly feeling very sensitive about his pitiful little family shrine. “None of that stuff is for you, or your people. That’s for my mom, so don’t even think about touching it, alright?”

That shut the elf up for a moment, and they sat there in silence as Kabru took the edge off his irritation by loudly sipping from his cocoa.

“Sorry, that was rude of me,” Mithrun said eventually. “I should have realized. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re blacklisted, because you’re clearly a good person, so you should be getting gifts. It has to be an administrative error. If you start putting even a small light out, I’m certain we can get you some holiday cheer.”

“Okay, you’ve been saying a lot of stuff that doesn't make any sense to me since this whole thing started,” Kabru said with a sigh. He took a long drink from his cocoa, downing half of what was left in his mug. If he’d been alone he probably just would have gone for the vodka bottle without bothering with the cocoa at all, but since he had company he didn’t want to do that… Especially since Mithrun had already scolded him for his drinking habits once. Proving him right would be embarrassing. “Would it kill you to explain? Why do you keep calling me a humbug? Why am I blacklisted-- by Santa, I guess?” He couldn’t help the little sneer in his voice when he said Santa. He didn’t mean for it to come out sounding sarcastic, but it was hard not to. “Is it because I’m not Christian?”

“No, not at all. Our mission is secular, not religious,” Mithrun replied instantly. Probably a question that he had to answer a lot. Do they have an FAQ I can read? Kabru wondered, his thoughts hovering somewhere between sarcasm and hysteria.

“We deliver presents to people all around the world during the dark and cold part of the year, because the weather makes people sad. Receiving gifts makes people happy, and human joy keeps monsters like the krampii from overrunning the earth,” Mithrun explained. “The winter solstice is our biggest target, but we work year-round, during all holidays. The Santa branding is regional and time-based. I wouldn’t have shown up looking like this if I had visited your house on purpose. I probably would have come dressed as an apsara instead.”

“Are you an apsara?” Kabru asked, his head spinning a little. “I thought apsara were only girls.”

“Where do you think little baby apsara come from?” Mithrun asked dryly. “And yeah, I’m something like that. Elf, fairy, nymph, spirit, apsara… Mortals have a lot of names for us, but we’re all basically the same thing.”

“Do all of you have minty blood? With the stripes?” Kabru asked, feeling hopelessly lost. Why would spirits all have red and white striped mint blood if they weren’t Christian spirits, wasn’t that a Christmas thing? And didn’t that come from ancient viking traditions or something?

“No, I happen to be P+, and it’s a common blood type for my particular tribe, but our blood comes in all kinds of spices. Anise, cinnamon, turmeric, ginger, nutmeg. The colors and patterns vary.”

Kabru resisted the urge to ask what the different colors and patterns were.

“So, is Santa not… always Santa, then?” Kabru asked, putting his empty mug down so he could rub his face with his hands. This was a lot of information to absorb all at once, and he felt overwhelmed. “Why Santa, if you’re doing all the different religions?”

“You just happen to live in a Christian majority area, and it’s Christmas time, so I was using the default regional terminology,” Mithrun explained. “Santa is just one of many titles that we call our current Head of Operations. They’re just one of us with a higher pay grade and more responsibilities. Like I said before, if I’d come into your house on purpose, I would have presented myself very differently.”

“My people work constantly to keep the world in balance. We just dress it up in things mortals enjoy, like presents, bright lights, fireworks, seasonal foods, music, colorful decorations. And obviously you mortals have embraced our various qualities, like peppermint, and red and white stripes. You built your traditions around us… And if you think that’s weird, think about how I feel when I walk into a mall and see everything painted to look like my blood.”

The idea of Mithrun walking into a mall filled Kabru with an indescribable negative emotion, and he decided that even if it made him look bad, he needed another drink.

“Hand me the vodka,” he told Mithrun, and the elf must have understood his distress, because he didn’t protest. He just handed him the bottle, and Kabru poured some into his empty cocoa mug, and then downed it all in one go. He took a deep breath after surfacing from his drink. “... So what’s a humbug? Is it because I don’t believe in anything? Is being a humbug why I’m blacklisted?” He was guessing entirely based on context clues.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Mithrun said. “Humbug is a slang term we use for non-believers, but humbugs that are good people still get gifts. Being a humbug just means we try to avoid direct contact, because we don’t want to upset them with our presence while we’re doing our deliveries.”

The elf paused to take a sip from his cocoa. He was pacing himself with it much more than Kabru. “Blacklisted people are those whose behavior is so vile and harmful to others that they aren’t given any gifts. Many people who are blacklisted are also humbugs, but not all humbugs have been blacklisted… But like I said before, I think this has to be some kind of error. You shouldn’t be on the blacklist. I’ll have a word with the records department and get it fixed.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kabru protested gently. “Give my present to someone else. I’m fine without it--”

“Are you?” Mithrun asked, arching an eyebrow at him challengingly. “You’re radiating a deep, profound sense of sadness and loneliness. I could spot it from 20,000 feet when I was scrying the area… Are you sure an occasional box of fancy chocolates, or a book you’ve been wanting to read, but keep forgetting to buy for yourself, wouldn’t cheer you up a little?”

“But I’ve got a good job,” Kabru insisted. “If I want something I can get it for myself. Save yourself the effort and give my gift to someone else who needs it more.”

“There’s no shortage of gifts, there isn’t any resource issue that limits how many we give out,” Mithrun said gently. “You aren’t taking anything away from someone else just by existing. I promise.”

Kabru wasn’t sure what to say to that, though he felt as if Mithrun was getting to know him alarmingly well for someone he’d only been talking to for under an hour. He felt like the man was crawling around inside his head and seeing all the fault lines in his personal issues that he didn’t like to share with people.

“Maybe it’ll be easier for you to accept if I explain how we benefit from it too,” Mithrun said, surprising Kabru with how kind his tone still was. He figured by now the man would surely be frustrated and annoyed by Kabru’s inability or unwillingness to understand, but no, Mithrun was still patiently explaining things to him, like he actually cared whether Kabru understood or not.

Despite everything, Kabru didn’t feel patronized by it, maybe because he was actually confused and didn’t feel like Mithrun was talking down to him.

“We don’t do all of this just for your sake,” Mithrun said. “Human beings are social, and their sadness is contagious. One sad human quickly turns into hundreds or thousands of sad humans. Then that sadness attracts creatures like the krampii, because those negative emotions make them grow bigger and stronger. Monsters like them are the natural predators of my people. So keeping humans happy keeps monsters from congregating in large numbers, and keeps them from getting big… And that keeps my kind safe.”

“...so those krampii were here because of me?” Kabru asked faintly, the idea that this was all somehow his fault making him feel ill. Was there something wrong with his heart that drew those terrifying monsters to the area? What if they hurt someone who was just outside trying to walk their dog or something? Or coming home late from work?

“Yeah,” Mithrun replied. “But it isn’t your fault. We’ve been letting you down, failing to bring any kind of joy to your life for years. So on our behalf: I apologize.” The elf paused a moment before changing topics with the dogged persistence of someone extremely devoted to doing his job, “Is there a particular time of year that you’d like to have your gifts delivered? Would you prefer Lohri, Pongal or Diwali to Christmas?”

“No, Christmas is fine,” Kabru mumbled, feeling too guilty to protest any longer now that he knew he was apparently so sad that he was a hazard to all the people around him. “I was raised with Christmas, it’s what most people around here are celebrating already… You can just do whatever is the least extra work for you…”

“This is what we do. It’s not extra work,” Mithrun said, reaching over to touch his hand where it was resting limply against his own leg. “Humans need joy, and one of the easiest ways to generate joy is receiving a gift. It doesn’t have to be large or profound. Sometimes a single piece of candy on a cold, dark night can be enough to light up a person’s heart, even if otherwise they feel like their whole world is ending.”

Kabru couldn’t help but think back to the very barren years he’d spent with his mother before she was killed, and how she always found ways to make little treats for him, even when it meant that she went hungry herself. Those little treats had lit up his whole world, it was true. And sometimes, she’d told him they were gifts from this or that god, but Kabru had never really believed her. Maybe he should have.

“Okay,” Kabru said quietly. “I’ll put out a light on Christmas. And thank you, for trying to protect me. I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful before.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Mithrun insisted.

The elf stayed for a second cup of cocoa, but when Kabru started yawning, Mithrun politely excused himself, saying that he needed to get back to work. After seeing the elf out the door, Kabru went back to bed, where he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

10:00 AM 12/22/2024

Pleasantview, Virginia, United States of America

When Kabru woke up the next morning, he was prepared to face evidence (or rather, a lack thereof) that the entire event last night had been some kind of overly vivid nightmare, or a hallucination.

However, the world refused to cooperate with that expectation. When he went into the kitchen, the empty milk carton was still on the floor, along with a couple of Oreo cookies that Mithrun had missed. But that wasn’t all.

In Kabru’s living room was a small but beautiful Christmas tree, strung with lights, and covered with charming hand-crafted ornaments made of wood and cloth. It was a real tree, too - something Kabru had never experienced before, and he was surprised by the fragrant smell that now filled his small living room and kitchen.

Rather than the usual decorations Kabru was used to seeing on trees, such as blonde angels, European-style soldiers, Santa’s elves, white doves and deer… These ornaments were all people, plants and animals from the area he’d grown up in. Pink lotus and white jasmine flowers made of cloth were scattered across the branches at regular intervals. There was a tiger, elephant and brahman bull, and a grand peacock perched on top of the tree instead of a star or an angel.

But the thing that really caught Kabru’s eye was the people. They looked like Kabru, with brown skin and black hair, and they looked like real people too, not tacky ethnic stereotypes like he sometimes saw while shopping, “exotic” ornaments made to look like people from all the different countries of the world for the amusement of their presumably white American buyers.

No, the tiny wooden policeman and fireman looked exactly like how Kabru remembered them looking when he was little, down to the tidy turban, moustache and beard on the Sikh policeman, who even had a tiny silver bangle around his wrist! And the ladies in their saris or their striped, multicolored aprons reminded him of the people he used to see every day walking to and from the village market. The men wore tiny little Nepali topi hats, made of painstakingly folded bits of cloth. Seeing them on the tree filled Kabru with a raw, overwhelming emotion that he eventually realized was joy. His face was wet again, and though there was nothing funny happening, he started to laugh.

He felt like a little kid as he stared at this reminder of the home he had been forced to leave behind decades ago, and for a little while, he just stood there, turning each ornament over and around in his hands, wondering what on earth he’d done to deserve something like this, and how it was even possible for the elf to get him something like this in just a few hours… Magic, he supposed, could do things like this.

But the tree itself wasn’t the only thing waiting for him in his living room. Under the tree were five packages and a card. Kabru had always been told that presents shouldn’t be opened before Christmas morning, but he was too curious, and couldn’t stop himself from opening everything right away. He started with the card, which read:

Dear Kabru,
You shouldn’t have opened this, it’s only the 22nd. But I can understand why the circumstances would make it impossible for you to wait. I hope this can begin to make up for the debt we owe you after years of neglect.

Christmas is in three days. Try not to use up all of this without me, you shouldn’t drink alone.

Level 5 Security Specialist
Captain Mithrun Kerensil

The fact that the man had correctly assumed that Kabru wouldn’t be able to resist immediately opening everything under the tree made Kabru laugh (and cry) even harder, and he ended up kneeling on the floor to open the wrapping paper (Indian style patterns, unlike anything he’d ever seen in the store) to see what else the strange little man had left him.

Kabru wasn’t certain, but it seemed like Mithrun was flirting with him, and Kabru had no idea what to do about that, so he shoved the idea out of his mind for now. Weirder things had happened to him in the last twenty-four hours, so in comparison someone flirting with him seemed downright normal.

The gifts under the wrapping paper were a lot more mundane than the spectacular tree, but the significance of them was obvious. A box of Oreo cookies to replace what Mithrun had eaten. An old fashioned glass bottle of milk, still cold despite not having been refrigerated. A fresh box of cocoa powder. A package of candy canes… And a big bottle of spiced rum of a brand Kabru had never heard of, but that seemed expensive as hell based on the packaging.

He never got himself expensive alcohol, his goal when he drank wasn’t to enjoy it, it was to turn his brain off and eventually go to sleep, so it had always seemed like a waste… But maybe Mithrun was right, and if Kabru was going to drink, he should at least drink something that was a few steps further removed from pure poison.

He needed to go to work, and Kabru got himself up and did exactly that, even though what he really wanted to do was sit around all day admiring the silly little tree and everything else he’d been gifted.

Kabru stuck Mithrun’s card into one of his pockets so he could reassure himself throughout the day that everything that had happened was real, but he still spent most of the day worrying that he’d imagined the entire thing, and that the tree and everything else would be gone by the time he got home.

He was deeply relieved that turned out to not be the case.

??:?? AM 12/22/2024

Hyperborea, Arctic Circle, The Otherworld

“Thank you for getting that rush order out so quickly,” Mithrun said, saluting the gnarled old man at his workbench. They were inside of the giant mushroom that old man Tansu and his wife Yarn called home.

“I hate being rushed,” Tansu grumbled. “But having a chance to make some good old-fashioned ornaments with original designs, instead of assembling yet another Playstation 5 was a treat, I’ll admit.”

In the hierarchy of the Otherworld, elves dealt with transportation and delivery, dwarves gathered resources, and gnomes were artisans. Tansu was probably the best they had, but his special skill set wasn’t in high demand these days. It was a shame, because he was a master craftsman and his work was truly beautiful.

“I hate to ask you for another favor so soon after you’ve finished the last one,” Mithrun said, which prompted a snort of sarcastic disbelief from Tansu. Mithrun handed him a schematic drawing on a sheet of paper. “You’ll have a few days for this, since I won’t need it until Christmas eve, and it’s a lot less complicated. Can you get it done?”

The old gnome lifted his glasses so he could squint at the paper without them in the way, drawing it closer to his face so he could read the small text. He set the drawing back down, and adjusted his tall red conical hat. “I don’t see why not. It is simple.”

“That’s good to hear. Thank you.”

11:35 PM 12/24/2024

Pleasantview, Virginia, United States of America

Normally, Kabru worked late on Christmas Eve without any complaint, he didn’t have anywhere better to be, so he didn’t mind working a shift that most of his coworkers preferred not to take.

This year was different though.

Though Kabru still wasn’t sure what to expect, he’d been jittery all day long thinking about whether or not the elf he’d met (who was real, and not a hallucination) was going to show up at his house tonight. But he had already been scheduled to work tonight, so there was no getting out of it. He ate his microwave dinner in the almost vacant break room, and he ran back and forth between one emergency and the next, trying to triage things as quickly and painlessly as possible.

It was, thankfully, a relatively slow and uneventful night for the ER. Nobody died, which Kabru always considered the ultimate measure of whether a day at work had been good or not, and none of the decisions he’d needed to make were particularly dire. He’d ordered some tests, and he’d had some people admitted to the hospital, and sent others home with instructions about what to do next.

So it was just before midnight when he pulled into his garage. He tugged his winter coat tighter around himself after getting out, and shuffled his way down to the foot of his driveway to collect his garbage and recycling can and drag them into the garage.

“You really do work a lot, don’t you?” Mithrun’s voice called out from somewhere up above, and Kabru looked around in bewilderment, not sure where the man was hiding. “Though tonight seems like it was extra long.”

Kabru finally tipped his head back far enough and realized that Mithrun was sitting perched on top of the street light that was directly in front of his house, by his mailbox. One leg dangled downwards, swinging back and forth in a leisurely fashion.

Being blinded by the street lamp, Kabru couldn’t really tell what the man was wearing, only that it wasn’t the same thing he’d seen him in last time.

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” Kabru said, grasping the trash can and recycling bin in either hand, and dragging them up the driveway.

“It’s alright,” Mithrun called out, raising his voice to be heard over the scraping noise the plastic wheels made on the cold concrete. “You’re worth waiting for.”

Kabru didn’t know how to respond to that, so he said nothing. He set the trash and recycle bins in their spots, and went into the house.

“You can come in if you want,” he called out to the elf, before pressing the button to close the garage door.

He didn’t see when Mithrun had removed himself from the lamp post, but when Kabru turned from the garage door to the interior of his living room/kitchen area, the elf was standing there, brushing snow off of his head and shoulders. Having anticipated the elf doing something like this, Kabru only startled a little bit.

“...you could have waited for me in the house,” Kabru said, not sure why the elf hadn’t in fact done that.

“Last time, I came inside without your permission. I wanted to be invited this time,” Mithrun replied.

The elf was wearing an old fashioned green cap, the type Kabru normally associated with Robin Hood, and he had a short double-tiered green cape with a high collar on. Under it, he wore a surprisingly modern tailored tunic and leggings that fit him very well. Aside from the curly toed shoes with bells on them, someone wearing what Mithrun was in could have walked around on the street of any major city without people noticing there was anything unusual about him.

At least, if they didn’t notice his strangely shaped ears, or the bright pink circles on his cheeks. Kabru wasn’t sure if the pink circles were some kind of makeup, or just a natural marking on the elf’s face. It was something he’d been curious about since last time, but couldn’t think of a good way to ask.

Kabru unraveled himself from his scarf and winter coat, hanging them by the garage door, and he braced himself against the wall with one hand to tug off his damp shoes one at a time.

“Well, you have my permission now,” Kabru said cheerfully, his face feeling hot. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Mithrun’s presence, or because of the sudden change from cold to hot now that they were inside the house. “You can make yourself comfortable if you want. I guess you’re staying for a little bit?”

“How long I stay depends on you, it’s your house,” Mithrun said, but the elf sounded like he was in a good mood. Kabru hoped so.

“I’d like it if you stayed for awhile,” Kabru said shyly, taking off his ID badge and hanging it with his coat. He set his wallet and keys down in the tray he used to corral such things on the kitchen counter. “Would you like some hot cocoa?”

“Yuh,” Mithrun grunted in reply. “Sounds good.”

By the time Kabru was finished making two mugs of the new cocoa that Mithrun had gifted him, the elf had once again magically lit a real fire in Kabru’s fake fireplace and taken a seat on the sofa. Kabru joined him, they mixed some of the spiced rum into the cocoa, and Kabru sipped it curiously.

“Oh, that is really good,” he said quietly. Mithrun made an affirmative grunting noise in agreement.

They sat there drinking quietly for a moment, the decorated tree Mithrun had given him standing as a silent witness over them, not yet acknowledged.

“...thank you for the tree,” Kabru said eventually. Now the heat in his face could have been caused by the rum and the fireplace, but Kabru was pretty sure he was just feeling emotional. “I really… I can’t even begin to describe how it made me feel, waking up and finding something like that. I really love it, so… Thank you. I’m going to treasure each and every one of those ornaments. It means a lot to me, that you would go to such great lengths just to try and make me happy.”

In the corner of his vision, Kabru could see what looked like a very pleased smirk on the elf’s face, though when he turned his head to look at Mithrun properly, his expression smoothed out into something more neutral and polite. The idea that the elf was pleased with himself for giving Kabru a gift he liked made something flutter in Kabru’s chest, an uncommon but pleasant sensation he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

It wasn’t that Kabru had never flirted with someone before. He’d hooked up with classmates, coworkers and random people in clubs too many times to count. This seemed very different though, and not just because Mithrun was some kind of supernatural creature.

“...You’re welcome,” Mithrun said. “I felt like your main problem was that you were lonely, so… I thought I’d get you some little wooden friends.”

The logic of this seemed childish and absurd, but Mithrun said it with such confidence and certainty that Kabru found himself believing it. Maybe the little people and creatures on his tree were his friends. Company so his house wasn’t so empty during the cold, dark part of the year.

“I was worried the whole thing would be gone when I came back home from work,” Kabru admitted with a laugh. “I’ve been carrying your card around with me every day, to reassure myself that all of this is real.”

Mithrun looked, for a moment, like he was struggling very hard not to smirk again. Kabru found it terribly endearing, and a bit charming.

“It’s all real,” Mithrun said, sipping his cocoa to hide his smile. “I’m real.”

“And I’m very happy about that,” Kabru said, laughing softly. “Thank you for the other presents, too.”

“They’re nothing,” Mithrun demurred modestly. “Just repaying you for the aid you rendered me.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kabru said, but Mithrun instantly shook his head in response.

“My kind does not tolerate being indebted,” Mithrun explained. “We always repay what we are given ten-fold.”

Kabru wondered how exactly that worked, and if it meant he had exactly nine more Oreo boxes in his future, or if the elf was speaking in a more metaphorical way.

“...I hope that doesn’t mean that you’re only here so you can repay me,” Kabru said hesitantly, worried that it might be true. Maybe this was just normal and polite for an elf?

“No,” Mithrun said firmly, putting his cup of cocoa down on the coffee table. “That’s not why I’m here. The tree was to apologize for us neglecting you for so many years. The gifts under the tree were to start repaying you for your help. I’m here… for personal reasons.”

Mithrun fixed Kabru with a stern gaze, and Kabru had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out personal reasons? and instead wait patiently for the man to continue. The elf was a bit melodramatic, Kabru realized, and he needed to be given room to say things the way that made him comfortable… Even if what Kabru generally wanted to do was bombard him with non-stop questions.

“...You refused to let me kill myself,” Mithrun said softly. Suddenly the elf seemed embarrassed, and he turned his head to look into the fire instead of at Kabru. “...You didn’t know me. I was a weird, rude stranger in your house. But the first thing you did upon meeting me was try to help, and you kept trying to help, even when I wasn’t cooperative.”

“I’m a doctor,” Kabru protested softly, because he felt like he was being given more credit than he was due. “Helping people is what doctors do--”

“No,” Mithrun interrupted him. “Helping people is what Kabru does, and he became a doctor so he could do it even more. So he could do it all the time, every day of his life.”

Kabru hid his face in his hands, and he was glad that the elf wasn’t looking at him. His face was burning.

“You would have rather died together with me, trying to keep me safe, than live knowing I’d died for you.”

They sat in silence for a while, because Kabru had no idea what to say and Mithrun seemed content to let his words sit for a while. Quietly, the elf sipped his drink.

“...Anyway, I have a present for you,” Mithrun said, “Since it’s Christmas.”

“You really shouldn’t have,” Kabru mumbled into his hands, feeling mortified and overwhelmed.

“I wanted to.” Mithrun said stubbornly. He set down his cocoa, and made an arcane gesture in the air with his hands. A small velvet pouch appeared out of nowhere, and dropped into Mithrun’s waiting palm.

The wonder of it all, seeing real magic happen before his eyes, was enough to coax Kabru out from behind his own fingers. When Mithrun offered him the pouch wordlessly, Kabru reached out and took it.

He hesitated before opening it. “Is this really--”

“I had it made just for you, same as the ornaments. Don’t worry - the extra work made a grumpy old workaholic very happy, he never gets to make artistic, hand-made gifts like this anymore.”

“...Please tell him thank you for me,” Kabru said meekly. “I really appreciate it.”

Kabru took a deep breath to steady himself, and then he opened the velvet pouch, fishing around inside with his fingers to find… metal? Some kind of jewelry? He extracted the contents carefully, and found a silver, palm-sized disc covered in a complex design. It was attached to a pin. A broach?

“It can change sizes,” Mithrun said casually, as if that was a normal thing that objects did. “In case you want to wear it on your lapel at work.”

Kabru squinted at the disc, trying to understand what exactly it was. There was a circular design on it, and also something that looked like writing, but it was in an alphabet Kabru didn’t recognize. Eventually he realized the design was a big snowflake, and the writing…

He still couldn’t read it, but after staring at it for a while, he felt a strange sort of understanding start to dawn on him. The text said:

Kabru wanted to hide his face in his hands again, and his breathing was getting loud and unsteady which he knew meant he was about to cry, but Mithrun distracted him by reaching over and placing his hands around Kabru’s hands.

“If you want to make it smaller, just hold it like this, and ask it to be smaller,” the elf said gently.

“A-ask it?” Kabru repeated incredulously, his voice breaking as tears ran down his cheeks. Mithrun ignored his crying and just nodded his head.

“Ask it like it’s a person. Be polite.”

Kabru sniffed and blinked his eyes rapidly, breathing deeply to try and keep himself from blubbering. After swallowing hard he managed to croak out “H-hello? Could--could you please… shrink? Get smaller? I’d really ap-aprecciate it.”

The cynical part of his brain had been so certain that nothing would happen, so when the medal shrank in his palms until it was the size of a lapel pin, Kabru nearly dropped it in fright.

He laughed, covering his mouth with one hand, staring at the tiny pin in his palm. Nobody would be able to read it at this size, even if they knew the language, but that was okay. Kabru knew what it said, and that was what mattered.

He was surprised again a moment later when Mithrun offered him a tissue. Kabru took it gratefully, though he wasn’t sure where it had come from, and he wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

“How about another cup of cocoa?” Mithrun suggested, and Kabru sniffled, nodded, and took their empty mugs to the kitchen to make another batch.

The act of doing something with his hands, even something as simple as making drinks, helped calm Kabru down, and eventually, he felt calm enough to speak without crying.

“Thank you,” Kabru said quietly, staring into the swirling depths of the mugs as he mixed the powder into the hot water. “It’s really beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” Mithrun said simply. “You deserve it.”

Kabru brought their drinks back to the sofa and set them down on the coffee table. “Can you add the rum? I need to go get something.”

Mithrun looked at him questioningly, but grunted an affirmative. Kabru could feel the man watching him as he scurried off to his bedroom, where he had a small wrapped box waiting on his dresser.

“Um, this is for you,” he said awkwardly as he rejoined Mithrun on the sofa, offering him the box, wrapped in black, white and silver paper that had music notes all over it.

The look on the elf’s face was priceless, and Kabru wondered if it was unusual for mortals to give holiday gifts to elves. He didn’t seem offended, so hopefully this wouldn’t mess with that whole “we don’t like to be indebted” thing he’d mentioned earlier…

“It’s not anything that special,” Kabru apologized preemptively. “It’s certainly not hand-made-- well, at least, not hand-made by me, I guess somebody made it by hand somewhere. But it’s--”

“Shh,” Mithrun stopped him with a fingertip pressed to Kabru’s lips.

The elf very carefully opened the paper, as if he was planning to save it, and he tilted his head quizzically at the small box with a clear plastic lid in front of him.

“It’s a bead necklace?” he asked curiously.

“You could wear it around your neck, sure,” Kabru said, “But a lot of people wear it on their wrist, you just keep looping it until it fits. It’s a mala bracelet, um… For counting your prayers.”

“That’s a lot of prayers,” Mithrun said, as he opened the box and drew out the string of wooden beads. There was a single blue stone bead that was larger than the rest.

“Humans have a lot of things to pray for, I guess,” Kabru said with an embarrassed laugh. “There’s 108 beads, and then there’s the blue one, which is the Guru. So you can tell when you’ve gotten to the end of your prayers, since it feels different from the others. You don’t have to use it for praying though. Lots of people just wear them because it looks nice.”

Mithrun was holding the string of beads suspended between both hands, studying it intently while Kabru spoke. Eventually, he slipped it around his left wrist, and began to wrap it until it fit snugly.

“...I like it very much, thank you.”

“Sorry if it’s weird for someone like me to give you a present,” Kabru apologized. “My mom used to wear one of these, and sometimes I like to wear one so I thought…”

Before Kabru could finish his rambling apology, Mithrun leaned in, and pecked a kiss directly to his lips.

“Shh,” the elf said again. “If you don’t stop apologizing for everything, I’m going to have to find more creative ways to shut you up.”

Kabru felt like his whole body, and not just his face, had very abruptly been lit on fire.

“Um,” he said, intelligently. “Does that mean I should stop, or should I find more things to apologize for?” Mithrun laughed at him, and Kabru felt a surge of confidence. “Because, uh, it might be a bit presumptuous, but I do want to apologize in advance for how messy my bedroom is--”

“You’re a busy man,” Mithrun said serenely, “You don’t have time for tidying up.” He reached out and took one of Kabru’s hands in his own, giving it a squeeze before he drew Kabru to his feet, and began to lead him away from the fire, towards Kabru’s bedroom. Kabru laughed and followed, excited, nervous and happy all at once.

They paused at the entrance to the dark bedroom, and Mithrun had both of Kabru’s hands in his own. Kabru could feel the wooden beads on Mithrun’s wrist press against his, and the elf was looking up at him intently.

“Merry Christmas, Kabru,” the elf said. “And hopefully many more to come. I think I owe you at least 1,080 now. But I’m certain you’ll increase my debt daily.”

“Is that okay?” Kabru asked, bewildered but hopeful. “I thought you said your kind don’t--”

“Shh,” Mithrun whispered with a smile, before drawing Kabru after him into the dark, and thoroughly distracting him until the sun rose.