The Real Saint Nic

With a flick of his hand, the lights next to the bed turned on as did a few lamps across the room. Once my eyes adjusted, I got a better look at the amount of presents. Hundreds, littered the room. The only space not filled was around the bed and a path to two doors in opposite directions. Red, green, and golds splattered the room in a festive show of color.

“You really are Saint Nic.” Astonished I tried desperately to keep my mouth closed.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Turning away from the presents I turned my gaze to Nic’s in question.

“Because I’m nowhere near a saint.” Brows furrowing Nic stared intently at the computer screen.

“Then how did you get the name?”

“That would be Jaysen’s doing. One day, not to long after I started giving the gifts, we got into an argument. I don’t remember most of what was said, after all, it was quite a while ago, but I do remember the comment was rather snide. To this day neither of us knows how it ended up outside our argument, but it still reminds me of that comment. Besides saints are deemed so because of the greatness they do for mankind all I do is give a few toys to some kids.”

Moved by the noticeable hurt in his eyes, a relentless knot twisted in my stomach. Though I still didn’t know him, the connection between us grew with each passing moment. Whether it was hormones or the fact that we were supposed to be mates, I didn’t know, but I couldn’t stand to see him sad.

I scooted out of the bed and made my way to him, wrapping paper shuffling under my feet. Then, as if it were the most natural thing to do, I lowered myself into his lap and hugged him close.