Description:
At the North Pole, Christmas is a well-oiled machine run by the determined and organized Steve Claus, with you as his trusted partner in Mission Control. You've admired Steve for years, though you've never dared to admit it. But when a...
Santa stood silently in front of the door, the entrance to Arthur's letter room. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle as a wave of guilt washed over him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room felt alive with Christmas spirit, adorned with twinkling lights, little snow globes, and stacks of letters from hopeful children.
Santa moved to Arthur's desk and sat down. He picked up one of the letters with a heavy sigh and began to read.
Arthur (voiceover): "Dear Xiao-Ling, thanks for your letter and the drawing of Santa tripping over your dog. It was hilarious."
"Dear Alessandro, I'm sorry your family's had a hard year, but Santa is real."
"Dear Lars, I promise Santa will come. He's the greatest man ever."
Santa lowered the letter, his hands trembling. His gaze drifted to the framed photo on the wall of him and Arthur. The boy in the picture looked up at him with such hope and admiration that it cut deep. Santa closed his eyes, grappling with the realization of how much was at stake, not just for Gwen, but for his family and Christmas itself.
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Back on the island, the fire burned steadily, offering warmth against the biting chill. Bryony, Grandsanta, and [Y/N] huddled near it while Arthur sat by the water, drawing absent-mindedly in the sand.
[Y/N] sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, her injured arm resting gingerly in her lap. Her eyes remained fixed on the fire, but her thoughts were far away. The words she had spoken earlier about Steve still hung in the air, unspoken but felt by everyone.
Bryony broke the silence, glancing over at [Y/N]. "I still can't believe you said all that about Steve," she said softly, her usual cheerfulness tempered by concern. "You've been holding that in for so long, haven't you?"
[Y/N] sighed, her fingers toying with the edge of her jacket. "Yeah," she admitted quietly. "I guess I've been keeping it to myself for so long that it just... spilled out. I didn't mean to, but..." She paused, her voice catching. "I couldn't hold it in anymore. It hurts too much."
Grandsanta leaned closer, his expression thoughtful. "You mean you love him, don't you?" he asked bluntly.
[Y/N] blinked, caught off guard by his question. She didn't answer right away, her gaze dropping to the flames. Finally, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think I do. I've cared about Steve for so long, and I thought he was someone I could admire. Someone who cared about people, about Christmas. But now..." She shook her head, her voice trembling. "I don't even know who he is anymore."
Bryony placed a comforting hand on [Y/N]'s shoulder. "Do you think he'll change?"
[Y/N] let out a bitter laugh. "I don't know. Maybe. I just don't know if he'll ever see me the way I see him."
