Christmas. Not again. Well, of course again, it happens every year. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy it though. And I don't. Not by a long shot. It is by far my least favorite time of the year. Why, you ask? Because every year since my birth it has been a bad day. Like hell on earth heaven doesn't exist bad day. And Im not joking. Let me give you a few examples.
10 years ago. 2005. Got kicked out of collage.
5 years ago. 2010. My house burned down.
1 year ago. 2014. I was mugged in an ally-way and spent January in the hospital with eight broken bones.
You see? Each year it just gets progressively worse. It's gotten to the point that I'm starting to fear for my life. I would just hide in my crappy apartment (all I could afford after Christmas 2005) but even there I'm not safe. Not from that has-to-be-a-ligit-Santa-elf that lives next door. Horrible Christmas carols till all hours of the morning, lights and wreaths(yes plural) in the hall way, and the fake christmas tree scent that is so strong it literally permeates the wall between our apartments.
I slammed shut my lap top, not caring to shut down tumblr, and stared at the wall that separates me from that thing-of-holiday-spirit. It's three am and I can hear Jingle Bells Rock too well with only the thin plaster to try and stop it. Now normally I'm an understanding person. But this is the fifth time this week and I haven't slept one hour yet and I have work tomorrow. I'm done with tis-the-season-to-be-jolly. The door to the hall is just in front of me before I even notice that I'm moving my feet. And then before I can talk myself back into my normal shy self I'm standing in front of his door. Well, it's to late to turn back now. The music stops almost as soon as my knuckles hit the wood.
The door swings open and there he is. I mean, I've seen him before, and I knew he was hot, but holy cookies. That golden hair, those whiskey eyes, the way that he's leaning against the door frame like he owns the world.
"Do you believe in seizing the day? Cause Carpe Damn." Did I just say that?
His laugh floats in the air like butterflies dancing on the wind. "Are cheesy pick up lines the only reason you have come knocking this fine morning?"
"No, there was a reason, but my brain is to fried to remember it."
"Okay then, bye." The door closed and the music resumed. That's what I wanted, for the music to stop. I knocked again.
"Yes?"
"Your music. It's keeping me a wake." Is the world tilting? I think the world's tilting.
"When was the last time you slept?" The mans beautiful eyes held mine in concern. Every thing else blurred out so that I couldn't seen it.
"I honestly don't remember." And now I'm falling. His arms are very strong. Why am I in his arms?
***
"Hey, hey wake up," Firm hands grip my shoulders tight, shaking them gently.
"What happened?" I rub my eyes as I sit up on the couch that is not mine. "Where am I?"
"You're in my apartment." Whiskey eyes holds me up, as I seem to have lost my balance and ability to stay upright. "You passed out and your door was locked so I dragged you in here."
"Dragged? I certainly hope you're strong enough to carry me." God, I need to shut up.
"Oh I am, but I'll show you later. You need to sleep." He didn't even need to push me down onto the couch. All he did was remove his hand and I was falling, again. Before I surrendered to the darkness I could have sworn he snapped his fingers and there was a blanket coving me.
***
"Where am I?" I glance around the apartment. It looks just like mine but it also looks like a reindeer threw up after eating to much fruit cake.
"Take it easy there, sweetheart. We don't want you over asleep again." I could hear the smile in his goddamn beautiful voice before I even looked at his goddamn beautiful face.
"Can you please turn the music off?" Rudolf the red nosed reindeer was playing on the radio.
"See, that's what got you into this mess in the first place. Why do you hate Christmas music?" He sat down on the coffee table in front of me, but the music had stopped. When had he done that?
"I don't hate Christm- okay so yeah, I hate Christmas. But the reason I asked you to turn of your music is because it's keeping me awake, and I kinda need to sleep."
"You haven't slept since I started playing Christmas songs?" He seemed a little shocked.
"Yeah,"
"Okay, i'll turn it off at night now." He started to get up then stopped and sat back down. "If I may ask, why dod you hate Christmas?"
"Past bad experiences have ruined it for me." I shrugged but it set my head on fire, so I ended up grimacing instead.
"I'm Gabriel, by the way." He stated as he stood and walked around behind the couch. His hands are very good at rubbing the tension from shoulders.
"I'm Y/n." My name turned into a groan as it slipped from my mouth.
"I usually have women in the bedroom before they start making those noises." His fingers continued to work their magic.
"Haha," I really had lost all conscious thought.
"What could be so bad that you hate a day that is so wonderful and joyful?" I could hear the shear incredibility in his voice. "How bout a little role play? Since I've already got you moaning for me. You be Ebicenesser Scrooge, I'll be ghost of Christmas past."
"Oh, why not." I was talking before I could think. What ever he was doing to lose my shoulders must be happening to my tung as well. So I told him about every Christmas I could remember.
"Well at least your a scrooge for a good reason. Or, well, like twenty." His hands stopped their soothing motions and he jumped over the back of the couch to sit beside me. "Now, I don't know the future, but I can make a guess."
"Oh, so you're ghost of Christmas future now?"
"Yes, now pay attention. I'm guessing that if you live the rest of your life in fear of Christmas, you will end up dead. Now it's time to be ghost of Christmas present. Spend Christmas with me." I stared at this man, who's apartment I had spent the last hour in pouring my heart out to, and had spent god knows how long asleep in before. I looked at this man, with his whiskey eyes, golden brown hair, cocky smirk. If anyone could change my mind about Christmas, it was him.
"You know what? Why not. I would love to spend Christmas with you, Gabriel." The smile on his face had you stuck between giddy excitement and nervous terror.
