It's always so... Stagnant without König. Colours seem duller, food tastes worse and nothing is as it should be.

He's been gone for weeks, in some godforsaken country that you don't have the classification to know, fighting bad guys and who knows what else.

The news that he wouldn't be home in time for Christmas broke your heart, but it can't be helped. In fact, König was probably even more upset than you, considering how much he loves the season. He'd made you promise to go out somewhere on Christmas Eve, but now that it's the day, you just can't bring yourself to do anything more than make yourself a sandwich.

All day, you've been staring blankly at the box of Christmas decorations and cursing whatever evil weirdos took your boyfriend away for the holidays.

You're not sure what time it is when you roll out of bed in the middle of the night for some ice cream to make you feel better, but halfway through the pint, there's a sound above you.

Eyes going wide, you dive for the knife drawer, only to remember a little too late that you haven't done the dishes.

Just as you contemplate whether or not you really want to stab whatever it is on your roof with a beef-covered blade, there's a crash in your fireplace, and you freeze, trying to remember the self-defence moves that König taught you.

"Aua... Ow, ow," hang on. You'd know that adorable exclamation of pain anywhere. What the hell is König doing in your fireplace with a Santa hat?

"Liebling? What are you doing here?" He looks just as surprised to see you too, brushing the soot off his mask before giving up and just taking the damn thing off. "I thought you were going to see the Christmas lights?"

There's no time to respond as a look of pure horror dawns on König's face as the lack of anything Christmas-y registers for him. "Scheiße! Liebling, you haven't even decorated? We finished the mission early and you weren't answering your phone, and I lost my key so I thought it'd be cute to pretend that Santa came while you were gone but..."

König steps back, pointing at you accusingly. "You are lacking the Christmas spirit! What do you have to say for yourself?"

There are more footsteps on the roof, and another crash, but this time it's a giant box wrapped in festive paper, and now covered in soot. König glances at the box, then at the roof, then pulls out his pocket radio, "Danke, Horangi." he whispers into it before putting it away and resuming pointing at you.

Did you feel sick before bed? Because this has to be a fever dream.