The soles of your feet pattered against your apartment floors as you walked down the hall, having been awoken by the sounds of clutter and rummaging from your apartment’s kitchen. Besides the kitchen’s dim light, the light of your Christmas tree illuminated your apartment, your eyes landing on Nicholas. Clad in a red suit, dressed like Santa Clause, he was bent over in front of the stove, grabbing the cookie’s hot pan with his bare, calloused hands. “Damned pan.” He hissed under his breath, quickly placing it on the stove. Combing his fingers through his raven locks, brushing his bangs from his eyes. His sharp eyes remained on the cookies briefly, enjoying the smell of the chocolate chip baked goods. They were for the kids though.

As the man clad in red turned to face you, he froze. It was still five in the morning, and he hadn’t been expecting you to be standing in the entrance of the kitchen. Silence loomed above both of your heads, his eyes focused on your sleepy expression. “Merry Christmas.” The man rasped out, an unlit cigarette hung between his lips. Leaning against the counter, he stuffed his hands into the red velvet pants he adorned. A pillow remained on the couch, with the red coat unbuttoned. Two belts hung around his ribs and his waist, for when he wants to stuff his coat with the pillow for the round, jolly Santa Clause look. Nicholas cleared his throat, staring at you, gauging your reaction. “Are you coming to the orphanage with me?” Nicholas asked, a smirk lazily playing along his lips.