Tree Bros & Boyf Riends One Shots

Boyfs- Santa's coming for us pt3

Warning: Death of peeps

"What is your name?"

Michael glared at the man sitting in front of him. He sat in silence until his chair was given a small shock. "Ow!"

"What is your name?" The man asked again, his clipboard ready.

"John Smith." Michael replied keeping a straight face.

"Age?"

"Just turned 420 yesterday, sir."

"Religion?" The man seemed to be unaffected by Michael's words.

"Well, I'm a pastafarian. I believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster." For this answer, Michael got a strong shock, forcing his confident smile to waver.

The man flicked his fingers, and the guards standing next to him brought out a thermos. He motioned to Michael, and one of the guards unscrewed the lid.

"What are you gonna do? Force me to have hot chocolate? I'm so scared."

"Close. How do you feel about egg nog?" Michael was about to question his statement when he was forced a sip of the drink.

Instantly, he felt himself fall heavy in the chair, and he couldn't wake himself up.

Michael woke on a couch with a blanket wrapped around him. He glanced around, and realized he had no idea where he was.

At least the guards aren't here.

"Hello?" Michael called out. When he didn't hear an answer, he began to explore the new area.

There was a Christmas tree in the corner, and Michael couldn't help but be drawn to its twinkling lights. As he got closer, he realized there were... presents under the tree.

Michael was about to walk away when one caught his eyes.

It was a bright red box, wrapped with a deep blue bow. And it was addressed to him.

Michael held the box in his hands, trying to determine what it was. He gently shook the box, and couldn't feel anything. Setting the gift on the floor, he gently undid the bow, placing it to the side.

He was about to open the lid of the box, but instantly he was reminded of the Christmas war being fought outside.

He froze, his hand so close to lifting the lid. He recoiled, backing up until he hit something hard. Turning around, he glanced up at the tall, bearded, white man with a huge gut.

Jeremy paced up and down the rows of tables, Evan and Jared calling out to him every once in a while. Eventually they gave up, leaving Jeremy to his thoughts. Jeremy fumbled with the knife in his pocket, making sure not to draw attention to it as he did so. He mumbled his thoughts quietly to himself.

Something's off. Something's off. Something's wrong. Michael. I need to save Michael.

Without warning, Jeremy sprinted off towards where the guards took Michael. He ran like his best friends life depended on it.

He could hear guards catch on to his plan, their feet stomping loudly as they raced after Jeremy. He sprinted down a hall, turning sharply and falling into a room. He shut the door behind him, breathing heavily. He heard the guards race past the door, and he smiled for a brief moment.

"J-Jeremy?"

Jeremy quickly turned to the voice, and almost broke down crying at the sight.

"Michael." Jeremy breathed out. He jumped over a couch, landing next to Michael. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"I uh," Michael pushed himself away from Jeremy, looking away. "Yeah. Uh, they kinda... did things."

Michael held out his hand, showing a candy cane shape bite mark.

"Okay, that's actually kinda impressive. How'd they do that?"

"Right?" Michael asked. "It was really weird but like, really cool."

They laughed for a second before clearing their throats. "Okay, so. What's happening?"

"Well, you're running away from guards, and I was just bitten by Santa Claus, so. Uh, merry Christmas everyone."

"Actually it's January first." Jeremy meekly added.

Michael rolled his eyes. "And a happy new year."

Michael let out a loud grunt, hunching over. "Micha?" Jeremy kneeled down next to him. "Sweetheart?"

"Get away. I'm... I'm sick." Michael looked up worriedly. "I don't want you to die."

"Don't talk like that, Micha." Jeremy whispered, afraid his emotions would surface through if he spoke louder. "You'll be fine."

Michael coughed as if to prove a point. "Jeremy, get out of here. You need to get back to your family. Be safe. Please."

"No." Jeremy said firmly. "I'm not, I'm not leaving you."

Michael looked around, before grabbing a medal candle holder. He handed it over to Jeremy. "Here. When I turn, bash me in the head."

Jeremy back up, shaking his head softly. "No. No, I, I can't."

"You have to."

"We can make it out. We can get out of here, we can live somewhere that's not snowing, somewhere with no Christmas. Please Micha-"

"Jeremy." Michael cut him off, holding his hands softly. They didn't talk for a few minutes, until they heard the beating on the door.

Jeremy tried to turn towards the door, but Michael held his face. "Look at me. Do you still have that knife I gave you?"

Jeremy nodded stiffly. He pulled it out, a soft sob escaping from his lips.

"Can we at least... do it together?" Jeremy asked softly. Michael nodded, taking the knife from his hands.

Michael sighed, looking in Jeremy's eyes. "I'll... I'll do you first, then I'll do myself."

"Are you sure?" Jeremy asked, ignoring the banging on the door.

"Yes." The took a deep breath, holding each other's hands. Michael positioned the knife, and looked deep into Jeremy's eyes. "I love you. So, so much."

"I..." Jeremy took a deep breath. "I know."

Michael stared at the body in front of him. He'd felt no emotions as he drove the knife into Jeremy's heart. When he'd pulled the knife out, the color was such a deep red that Michael wanted to dip candy canes in it.

"Good job, subject 956." A voice called over the speaker phone. "We're so proud of you."

The bookcase flipped around, and the man stepped out, holding a tray of blood red candy canes, and soft, milky egg nog. "For being so good, you get a treat."

He placed the tray on the edge of the couch, smiling with no emotion at Michael. "You can do whatever you desire to the body." As he turned to leave, he stopped.

"And Michael? Good acting. My daughter would've been proud."