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Oh, what a wonderful Christmas day!
One of the very few times in the year Fyodor allowed himself the luxury of resting. And it was for this reason precisely that at 3 o’clock in the afternoon he was still lying in bed, burrowed under a soft weighted blanket. The curtains weren’t drawn and only a few faint rays of light seeped through the cracks, leaving the room nearly plunged in darkness.
Fyodor turned around, pulling the blanket to his face, and a blissful sigh escaped his lips. It felt like aeons had passed since the last time when the only thing on his agenda was sleeping the entire day. Nothing could stand between Fyodor and his grand plans!
An unexpected chuckle made him jump, the feeling of warmth and safety vanishing without a trace. His heart pounding madly, Fyodor’s hand flew to his chest, an attempt to control his ragged breathing. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead when he noticed the glowing figure standing at the foot of his bed.
Fyodor had never been one to believe in Christmas magic, spirits and the like, much less in the notion suggested by some well-known literary works. And what was more, flashed through Fyodor’s mind in that fleeting moment before anything could happen, he wasn’t a man who needed to redeem himself. But if the spirit insisted then Fyodor’s plans for a 24 hour peaceful nap would be completely thwarted and he would instead have to travel through time and watch himself ‘from above’... Not his thing.
Just then, the spirit spoke:
“Merry Christmas, Fedya!” literal sparks of excitement were twinkling around the figure, lighting up the dim room.
Fyodor narrowed his eyes. It was impossible! Nikolai had no key and no way to get into Fyodor’s apartment. Trespassing! For some reason, that wasn’t so strange considering it was Nikolai. Fyodor decided he didn’t mind after all, and crawled back under the covers.
“Merry Christmas,” Fyodor’s voice sounded hoarse and muffled, coming from the depths of his bed.
“Oh my!” Nikolai’s worried cry shook the remaining sleepiness off Fyodor. “Are you feeling unwell?” He reached out to touch his friend’s forehead.
“I was , in fact, feeling great,” before someone decided to pop in my bedroom and interrupt my sleep, remained unsaid.
“But why are you still in bed then? You didn’t receive my letter?”
Ah, the letter! Fyodor had received it, of course. How could he not notice the large red envelope with glittering edges and neat handwriting, addressed to “my dearest Feya”*, that had been slipped under his front door. Due to his exhaustion after working until midnight yet another day (Christmas Eve at that!), Fyodor had simply put it on the table before throwing himself into bed. How important could it be if Nikolai had even misspelt Fyodor’s name?
“What letter?” Fyodor mumbled, his eyelids growing heavier.
“Well, this one, of course!” the letter was waved in front of Fyodor’s face.
“Oh? And what does it say?”
…
Half an hour later Fyodor wished he had never asked that. He was still in bed, but not in the middle anymore. He had moved aside to make room for Nikolai. Another thing that had changed (and frankly what Fyodor despised the most) was their attire. They were both dressed in the most Christmassy pyjamas one could imagine. And to top it all off: they were matching!
It had been a surprise, a nice way to end the day filled with various fun activities Nikolai had planned, but eventually it turned out to be the only thing Fyodor had energy for. They lay cuddling, legs tangled together under the blanket, and enjoyed a recording of Nikolai’s favourite performance of The Nutcracker .
The warmth of another body next to his and the sweet voice humming along now and then, made Fyodor smile to himself. That was definitely a better way to spend the holiday than sleeping all alone in the darkness. Maybe, one day he could even forgive Nikolai for making him put on that atrocious pyjama set.
He nuzzled his cheek into Nikolai’s chest, feeling the softness of the garment against his skin.
Nikolai hummed approvingly and put his arm around Fyodor’s shoulders. He seemed to feel at home in his friend’s bed.
“Open up, Fedya,” a cookie was unexpectedly brought to Fyodor’s mouth but he refused, shaking his head.
”I cannot believe I’m letting you eat in my bed,” he scoffed.
“You’ve let me in your bed, so now I can do whatever I want here!” Nikolai giggled and added: “Come on, you haven’t eaten today, have you?”
Having been exposed like that, Fyodor reluctantly complied with Nikolai’s request and took a bite of the cookie, letting it melt in his mouth. It was one of Nikolai’s homemades, and it wasn’t long before Fyodor reached for the box of various sweets Nikolai had brought.
Enjoying the holiday tunes and homemade sweets was how the two men spent the rest of the day. Fyodor didn’t even notice as his eyelids fluttered shut and he fell asleep in Nikolai’s arms with a dreamy smile painted on his face.