Soft breathing came from the room, the bed creaking from the added weight. Snow fell outside, painting the ground a pure white. Children laughed happily outside, covered in heavy coats and scarfs, making snow men and angles. Adults stood nearby, drinking and chatting.

Inside was more melancholy, the weight of a burden sifting through the home. Boothill held a photo in his hands, rubbing the image of a smiling little girl. His expression looked as if he were crying, yet he had none to shed with his robotic body.

You came into the room, presents held in your hands as you set them down near the little tree in the corner. You knew how he got during this time, it always killed you to see him so down, unlike his usual rowdy self. Each box was placed down with your names, you, Boothill, and the girl. She would’ve loved the gifts he got her.

Sitting next to him, the bed dipped with the added weight. Not a word was spoken, but none needed to be said as he set his head on your shoulder.