𝓦𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 (Bernard the Elf x Reader)

Chapter 7- The Santafication Process

After another sucky day of school, I was glad to finally get home. As the crisp early February air nipped at my cheeks, I propped my bike up against the side of the house and dragged my feet up the brick steps towards the front door. I walked into the house, a sigh of relief flowing out of my lips at the wave of warm air that crashed onto me. I slipped my coat off and hung it up before heading to the kitchen to find something to eat. As I searched the cupboards for food, I noticed Dad sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.

"Dad?" I called, grabbing a banana. "What's wrong?"

Dad sighed. "Charlie had a parent career day at school today."

I sat down beside him and began to peel the banana. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing...except he told his entire class that I'm Santa Claus." Dad sarcastically spoke. "Laura, Neal, and I all got called to the office because even the principal was concerned."

I swallowed a bit of my fruit. "That's not good."

"I can't believe that Charlie thinks that all of that stuff really happened."

"That's because it did happen," I spoke. "I know that you don't believe it, but we did go to the North Pole that night. Think about it. How else can you explain how we all had the same dream, you and I woke up in the same pajamas we put on at the North pole, and the fact that Charlie still has the snow globe Bernard gave him?"

He scoffed as he stared at me. "That is ridiculous! You don't honestly believe that any of that actually happened?"

"I do!"

Dad stood up and headed out of the room. "I don't have time for this."

"I really happened, Dad!" I quickly exclaimed.

My father ignored me and went up the stairs to his room. I slumped back into my seat and took a giant bite of the banana. "This may be harder than I thought, Bernard..." I muttered, looking down at the necklace Bernard had given me.

Its soft glow still gave me a bit of comfort.

:-:-:-:

People always say that there are seven stages of grief. Well, if there are seven stages of becoming Santa Claus, I would say that my dad was still stuck on stage one: denial. No matter how much I tried to tell him, he refused to believe or even listen to anything regarding the North Pole.

Well...until one morning in April. 

I was woken up by my dad's screaming coming from the bathroom. I practically fell out of bed as I scrambled to get to the bathroom. I loudly knocked on the wooden door. "Dad? Are you okay?! I'm coming in!" I quickly exclaimed, opening the door. A gasp came out of my mouth as I looked at my dad. In just one night, Dad had grown a short gray beard, had significantly more gray hair, and gained at least twenty pounds. "Dad?! What in the world happened?!?"

"I HAVE NO IDEA!" Dad yelled, still looking at himself in the mirror. He threw open the medicine cabinet and grabbed his razor. "I just woke up like this!"

"The santafication process..." I mumbled in realization.

"The what?"

My fingers nervously fiddled with Bernard's necklace. "Dad...I think you're turning into Santa Claus."

"Now is not the time (Yn)!" He scolded as he turned on the razor and began to shave his beard away.

I stared at him and could see the worry flooding over his face. I had a feeling that he knew I was right. I walked back into my bedroom and began to find clothes to put on for the school day. After I had changed, I headed back into the bathroom to fix my hair. Dad had already finished shaving, so I had the mirror to myself. I began to brush through my tangled rats-nest-like hair, and suddenly noticed something on my face. Upon closer inspection, I realized that there were specks of what looked like glitter on my cheeks. Just like the elves at the North Pole had. I quickly splashed warm water and some soap on my face in an attempt to wash away the glitter but to no avail.