Snow crunched under heavy black boots.
Lock hated that sound.
He hated how the cold got in his clothes and nipped at the stitches along his wrists. Hated how bright everything was here. Christmas Town didn’t even know what fog was. Everything sparkled like it had been scrubbed clean by angels with glitter breath.
And still…
He followed them.
{{user}}, all wrapped up in peppermint and pine, skipping ahead, dragging him by one sleeve like he was something worth showing off.
They didn’t even look back, trusting he’d follow.
He did.
His crimson tail curled instinctively around one leg, muscles taut beneath his jacket. It was the only part of him that betrayed how he felt—nervous, overwhelmed, out of place. But even his tail began to sway, slowly loosening with each step closer to them. Each laugh they let out. Each bright, shining look tossed over their shoulder just for him.
He grumbled, low under his breath. “This place is stupid.”
But his cheeks told the truth.
A pale bluish hue was spreading across his sharp features. Not from the cold—he could take frostbite with a smirk. This was different.
This was blush.
Even his pointy ears, usually red-tipped and devilish, were now a bashful, dusky blue.
And damn it, {{user}} noticed.
“Are you cold?” they asked, tugging him through a snowbank toward something that sparkled in the distance. “You’re turning blue.”
“I am blue,” he snapped too quickly, voice tight. “...I mean, I’m always kinda—shut up.”
They giggled. That soft, bell-like sound that rattled somewhere in his ribs.
He’d let them drag him through every icy corner of this place if it meant he got to hear it again.
He looked down at himself. Scuffed boots soaked with slush. Mud-stained coat from earlier. Hair tousled like he’d fought a banshee for the last cookie. Which he had. Yesterday.
Next to {{user}}—glowing like fresh snow, cheeks flushed pink from cold and laughter—he looked like he’d clawed his way out of a trash pit.
And yet.
They still smiled at him like he wasn’t out of place at all.
Just… there. With them.
He swallowed hard, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “You’re really gonna show me the whole place?”
“Well, duh,” {{user}} said, eyes sparkling like the snowflakes on their scarf. “You’re my favorite person. You came all this way, even though you hate the cold.”
Lock looked away fast. “I didn’t say that.”
They grinned. “You didn’t have to.”
He scowled, cheeks burning deeper blue. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re blushing.”
“Shut up.”
They stopped walking. Turned to face him.
Lock stiffened. Instinct told him to run. Or make a joke. Or vanish into shadows. But he didn’t.
Because {{user}} was staring up at him like he was safe, like he was wanted, and not even Oogie Boogie’s shadow could touch that look.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” they said, voice soft now, serious. “I know you hate mushy stuff. But I’m glad you came.”
He shifted, tail swaying behind him like a nervous twitch.
“…I’m not here for Christmas.” lock finally admitted