Work Text:
Letter to Santa:
“Dear Santa,
I wish for a Christmas like everybody else.
From, Riddle”
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The Heartslabyul dorm sparkled with festive decorations, but little Riddle Rosehearts stood at the center of the chaos, clipboard in hand, his tiny face scrunched up in concentration.
“Decorations must be hung symmetrically,” Riddle instructed, waving his clipboard like a wand.
“The lights need to blink at the same speed, and cookies are only allowed after decorating the tree!”
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So cute!!
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Ace and Deuce, now as mischievous children, exchanged glances, their lips curling into matching grins.
“Hey, Deuce,” Ace whispered.
“Think he’ll notice if we hang the star... sideways?”
Deuce tried to stifle his laughter. “I bet he’ll lose his mind.”
As Ace climbed onto Deuce’s shoulders to place the star in a crooked position, Cater, a cheeky little kid with sparkly ornaments dangling from his arms, snapped a picture with a magical camera.
“Smile for the memories!”
But Riddle, sharp-eyed and as bossy as ever, caught them in the act.
“Ace! Deuce! Get down from there this instant!”
The sudden shout startled Deuce, and he wobbled, causing Ace to lose balance. Both tumbled into a pile of decorations, spilling glitter everywhere.
“Great job, Ace!” Deuce groaned, rubbing his head.
“Hey, it was your shoulders!” Ace retorted, now covered in sparkles.
Trey, ever the responsible big brother figure even as a kid sighed and approached with a broom.
“Come on, guys. We were supposed to be decorating, not creating chaos.”
Riddle stomped his tiny foot, looking every bit like a furious red bean.
“You’re ruining the order! How are we supposed to have a proper Christmas if you don’t follow the rules?”
But before anyone could respond, Grim barreled into the room, dragging a garland behind him.
“I found this shiny thing! Let’s wrap it around the tree!” He tripped, pulling the garland and the half-decorated tree down with him.
The entire dorm froze, staring at the now toppled tree, ornaments rolling everywhere, and Riddle’s face turning as red as his hair.
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Snap
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“THAT’S IT!” Riddle screamed, his clipboard falling to the floor.
“Christmas is ruined!”
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he turned away, sniffling.
The room went silent.
Even Ace and Deuce felt guilty for pushing him too far.
Trey crouched down next to Riddle, gently patting his shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay. Christmas isn’t about everything being perfect.”
Riddle sniffed, not convinced. “But it’s supposed to be done right.”
Cater chimed in, “Riddle, look around. Doesn’t it look kinda fun? Sparkles everywhere, a toppled tree—it’s... unique!”
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It's hideous..
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" Riddle Rosehearts! That is not how you decorate the Christmas tree! "
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" I'm sorry...Mother.."
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Ace grinned, picking up a handful of glitter and tossing it into the air. “See? It’s like a party!”
Riddle peeked through his fingers at the sparkling chaos around him.
The other heartslabyul members had started picking up the decorations, laughing and helping each other.
Even Grim was trying unsuccessfully to fix the tree, grumbling about “dumb humans" as Yuu just chuckles.
“Come on, Riddle,” Trey said gently.
“Let’s decorate the tree together. It doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to be ours.”
With some hesitation, Riddle nodded.
Together, they all set to work, hanging ornaments some crooked, re-stringing lights that blinked unevenly, and sprinkling glitter everywhere.
The end result was far from perfect, but the room radiated warmth and joy.
When the tree was finally finished, Ace handed Riddle the star.
“Here, boss. You should do the honors.”
Riddle hesitated, then carefully placed the star at the top, this time with a soft smile on his face.
“Okay,” he said, stepping back to admire their handiwork.
“I suppose it’s... acceptable.”
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Yes...
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Acceptable..
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They cheered, and Trey handed out cookies, ignoring Riddle’s earlier rule.
Cater snapped more pictures, capturing the laughter and smiles.
As they all sat around the tree, nibbling on cookies and sipping hot cocoa, Riddle leaned against Trey and whispered.
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“Maybe... Christmas doesn’t need so many rules after all.”
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" Yes... It is.."
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And for the first time, Riddle felt truly at peace, surrounded by the warmth of the season.
The laughter and warmth surrounding the Heartslabyul children didn’t reach Riddle, even as he sat near the glowing Christmas tree.
A cookie rested untouched in his lap, and his small hands gripped his knees tightly.
The scene in front of him—the mess of ornaments, the crooked star, and his friends’ carefree laughter—was so unlike the Christmases he’d known growing up.
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It was nice...
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“Riddle, sit up straight. Your posture is unacceptable,” his mother’s voice rang out, cold and clipped.
The small boy, barely six years old, adjusted himself on the stiff wooden chair.
The pristine dining table before him was adorned with white-and-gold porcelain, polished silverware, and perfectly folded napkins.
Not a single decoration was out of place.
The tree in the corner, towering and elaborately adorned, had been decorated by professionals earlier that week.
Riddle hadn’t been allowed to touch it.
“You will eat three spoonfuls of soup, followed by the salad, and then the main course,” his mother instructed as she placed a ruler beside his plate.
“Do not eat too quickly or too slowly. A proper meal should take exactly twenty-five minutes.”
Riddle nodded obediently, his small hands trembling as he picked up the spoon.
The room was silent except for the clinking of silverware.
“Do you know why we don’t have guests this year, Riddle?” his mother asked, her sharp gaze fixed on him.
He hesitated, unsure if it was a rhetorical question.
“Because... it’s distracting?” he answered softly.
“Correct,” she said, sipping her tea.
“Christmas is not a frivolous holiday. It is a time to reflect and perfect yourself for the coming year. Distractions only lead to failure.”
Riddle lowered his gaze, his chest tightening.
He had seen other children laughing and playing in the snow outside earlier that day.
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He wanted to play...
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Yet...
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Mother said it's bad and uncultured..
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Their muffled laughter had reached him through the frosted window, a distant sound that felt like a dream he couldn’t touch.
“May I... may I have hot cocoa after dinner?” he ventured hesitantly.
His mother’s lips thinned into a disapproving line.
“Hot cocoa is unnecessary sugar, Riddle. It will spoil your health and your focus. We will have chamomile tea instead.”
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I knew it...
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His small face fell, but he quickly schooled his features into neutrality, just as he’d been taught.
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“Yes, Mother.”
The rest of the evening passed in silence.
No stories were shared, no games were played.
After dinner, his mother handed him a single, carefully wrapped gift.
Inside was a new textbook on etiquette.
“Merry Christmas, Riddle,” she said
“This will help you prepare for next year. I expect you to read two chapters before bed.”
“Yes, Mother,” he whispered, clutching the book tightly.
As he returned to his room, he cast one last glance at the perfectly decorated tree, longing for something he couldn’t name.
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Strange...
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“Riddle?” Trey’s gentle voice pulled him back to the present.
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Trey?
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He blinked, startled to find himself sitting in front of the crooked tree, surrounded by his friends.
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It was a strange word..
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Friends...
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The word felt foreign but not unwelcome.
Trey knelt beside him, noticing the distant look in his eyes.
“You okay?”
“I…” Riddle hesitated, the memory of last year Christmas heavy in his heart.
“I didn’t know Christmas could be like this.”
“Like what?” Trey asked softly.
“Messy,” Riddle admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
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“But... happy.”
Ace, overhearing, plopped down beside him and grinned.
“See? Told you a little chaos is good for the soul!”
“Chaos isn’t good for anything,” Riddle retorted automatically, but there was no heat in his words.
Cater passed him a cookie, his grin playful. “It’s not perfect, but it’s ours. That’s what makes it special.”
For a moment, Riddle hesitated.
The cookie in his hand felt warm, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile meals he’d grown up with.
Slowly, he took a bite. The sweetness melted on his tongue, and an unexpected warmth bloomed in his chest.
As the others laughed and teased each other around the tree, Riddle found himself leaning into Trey’s side, allowing the comfort of the moment to wash over him.
Perhaps Christmas didn’t need to be perfect. Perhaps it didn’t need rules at all.
And for the first time in his life, Riddle like Christmas.
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' Merry Christmas, Mother....'
_____________________________________________________________
Letter to Santa:
“Dear Santa,
I wish someone would treat me like I’m important.
From, Leona”
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Leona had been no older than six, his small frame dwarfed by the grandeur of the palace dining hall.
The long, gleaming table was laden with decadent feasts, gold and silver decorations glittering in the candlelight.
Guests from neighboring territories filled the hall, their laughter echoing against the high ceilings.
At the head of the table sat Falena, Leona’s older brother, glowing with warmth and charm as he entertained their guests. Falena’s fiancée sat beside him, her presence equally radiant.
She laughed softly at something he said, the sound like music to everyone’s ears.
Leona, seated far from the center of attention, poked at the food on his plate.
No one had spoken to him all night, not even a passing glance in his direction.
The servants had placed him at the edge of the table, a spot reserved for those deemed unimportant.
He had been too young to fully understand, but he felt it deep in his bones: he was a shadow in his own home.
At one point, he mustered the courage to call out to his brother.
“Falena!” His voice was small, but it carried across the table.
Falena turned, his golden eyes warm but distracted. “What is it, little brother?”
Leona hesitated, suddenly aware of all the eyes on him.
“I... I wanted to show you something after dinner. In the garden.”
Falena smiled, but it was the kind of smile Leona had grown to hate gentle, but laced with pity.
“Maybe later, Leona. Right now, I have to entertain our guests.”
Leona’s heart sank, but he nodded. “Okay.”
He waited all night, sitting by the fountain in the garden with the small wooden figure he’d carved for Falena, a lioness with intricate details he’d painstakingly etched into the wood.
The air grew colder, the stars twinkling above him, but Falena never came.
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He always never came .....
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I Hate Christmas....
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Leona, de-aged and grumpy as ever, sat on the edge of the dorm common room, watching the other people squabble over how to decorate their Christmas tree.
The laughter and excitement grated on his nerves, though he couldn’t explain why. Something about the cheerful noise made his chest tighten uncomfortably.
Leona’s sharp ears caught a faint echo of a memory, unbidden and unwelcome. It was a different time, a different place—the royal palace.
He saw himself as a young boy, watching his older brother Falena laugh and entertain the guests.
Falena’s fiancée sat beside him, radiant and kind, receiving compliments and admiration from everyone.
The table was set with gold and silver, the air filled with music, but Leona sat at the far end, his seat carefully chosen to keep him out of sight.
A servant had leaned down to him once, whispering, “Don’t cause any trouble, young prince. This is Falena’s moment.”
And so, Leona had stayed quiet. He didn’t ask for anything.
What was the point? His wishes and dreams were always overshadowed by Falena’s light.
Even at Christmas, his gifts were afterthoughts, his presence ignored.
Now, as the memories faded, he clenched his fists. It was just a stupid tree and some decorations. Why should he care?
Letter to Santa:
Grudgingly, Leona picked up a crumpled piece of paper and a pencil.
He didn’t believe in Santa—not when he’d learned early on that wishes were a waste of time.
But the others had been pestering him to write something, and he hated the idea of them thinking he couldn’t handle a silly task.
He stared at the blank page for a long moment before scribbling, his handwriting rough and hurried.
“Dear Santa,
I wish someone would treat me like I’m important.
From, Leona”
He crumpled the paper again, shoving it into his pocket. No one needed to see it.
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No one....
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The chaos in the common room didn’t abate.
Ruggie darted around, stringing lights haphazardly, while Jack carefully lifted ornaments on the higher branches.
“Oi, Leona,” Ruggie called, nudging him with an elbow.
“Stop sulking and come help. We need you for the star.”
Leona frowned. “Find someone else.”
“No can do, boss.” Ruggie grinned, holding out the glittery star.
“This job’s fit for a king.”
Leona sighed dramatically but stood anyway, his lazy movements belying the flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
Ruggie passed him the star, and Jack stood behind him, ready to steady the tree.
“Don’t mess it up, Your Highness,” Ruggie teased, earning a glare from Leona.
As he placed the star atop the tree, the room erupted into cheers. Leona blinked, startled by the noise.
“You did it!”
Jack crossed his arms, a faint smile on his face.
For a moment, Leona didn’t respond.
He glanced at the tree, then at the beastmen who were beaming at him like he’d just saved Christmas.
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It was strange....
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The warmth in their eyes was something he hadn’t felt in years and without fear.
Ruggie elbowed him again, softer this time.
“See? Told you you’re the king of the pride.”
Leona smirked, though the expression held an unusual softness.
He didn’t say anything, but he stayed in the room, letting the others drag him into the festivities.
Later that night, as they all sat around the tree exchanging makeshift gifts, Leona leaned back in his chair, his heart unexpectedly lighter.
Maybe wishes weren’t such a waste of time after all.
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Maybe I don't hate it after all....
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_____________________________________________________________
Letter to Santa:
“Dear Santa,
I wish to be someone would became my friends that would not laugh and bully me
From, Azul”
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The Mostro Lounge had transformed into a winter wonderland.
Sparkling icicle lights hung from the ceiling, fake snow dusted every surface, and a massive Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its ornaments shimmering like treasures under the ocean.
At the center of the room, three small children were hard at work or rather, two adults and one child were hard at work.
“We need to hurry and write our wishes to Santa!” little Azul Ashengrotto announced, his tiny hands meticulously folding a piece of paper.
His glasses were slightly crooked on his small face, and his cheeks puffed in concentration.
Jade, seated beside him, was carefully
doodling a seaweed wreath on his letter.
“You’re awfully excited for something that might not even work,” he said, his calm tone masking a hint of teasing and fondness hidden in his eyes looking at the child Azul.
“Of course, it’ll work!” Azul huffed, glaring at him.
“I’ve done my research! If we write a detailed enough letter and leave it in a magical bottle, Santa has to grant our wishes.”
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Adorable....
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“Really?” Floyd, sprawled across a pile of pillows, grinned mischievously.
“What if Santa thinks you’re boring and skips you?”
Azul bristled, his face turning red. “Santa doesn’t skip anyone! He rewards good children who work hard!”
“Boring,” Floyd sing-songed, stretching out like an eel basking in the sun.
“Floyd,” Jade said with a small sigh,
“if you keep teasing him, he might actually cry. Again.”
Azul shot Jade a betrayed look. “I did not cry last time!”
“Yes, you did,” both twins said in unison, causing Azul to puff up even more not noticing the silent chuckles of adornment from the others.
Ignoring their antics, Azul focused on his letter. He carefully wrote:
Dear Santa,
I have been very good this year. I’ve helped clean, studied hard, and worked very responsibly at the lounge. For Christmas, I would like to be stronger and more confident, so no one can call me weak or laugh at me again. Also, a little more money would be nice.
Sincerely, Azul Ashengrotto
Satisfied, he folded the letter neatly and placed it in a small, decorative bottle.
“Done! Now you two need to finish yours.”
Jade smirked, his pen gliding across the paper. “My wish is simple.”
Dear Santa,
Please send me something interesting—like a new set of rare deep-sea plants to study or maybe something fun to tease Floyd with
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Yours, Jade Leech
“I’m finished.” He slid his letter into a sleek black bottle and turned to his brother.
“What about you, Floyd?”
“Hmm…” Floyd sat up, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Then, with a mischievous grin, he grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled something haphazardly:
Dear Santa,
I wish for the biggest, squishiest, and funnest present ever! Surprise me!
From, Floyd Leech
“There! All done!” Floyd announced, tossing his letter into a bottle without even sealing it properly.
Azul stared at Floyd’s careless attempt, his eye twitching
. “You can’t expect Santa to take you seriously with that! You didn’t even use proper punctuation!”
Floyd shrugged.
“Who cares? If Santa’s cool, he’ll know what I mean.”
Jade chuckled. “I think your bottle might sink before it reaches Santa.”
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Later that Night
Azul couldn’t sleep. He sat by the window, gazing at the ocean with quiet hope.
“Do you think Santa really listens?” he whispered to no one in particular.
He didn’t expect an answer, but Jade stirred from his bed, his voice soft and sleepy.
“Who knows? But if he doesn’t, we’ll figure out how to get what we want anyway. That’s what we always do, right?”
Floyd mumbled from the corner, half-asleep.
“Yeah, and if Santa doesn’t bring me something squishy, I’ll just squish Azul instead.”
Azul huffed but smiled faintly, his heart warming despite Floyd’s teasing.
“Maybe… you’re right.”
And for the first time, Azul allowed himself to believe in a little holiday magic.
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Just this time...
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_____________________________________________________________
Letter to Santa:
“Dear Santa,
I wish for a Christmas where I don’t feel lonely.
From, Kalim”
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Kalim sat alone by the window, gazing out at the snow-covered grounds, his vibrant blue eyes dull and distant.
The festive decorations around the room seemed to mock him in their brightness, a stark contrast to the empty, hollow feeling gnawing at his chest.
The sounds of his dormmates laughing and decorating the tree faded into the background as his thoughts wandered back to a time long ago, to a Christmas he would never forget.
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It was another grand celebration in the Al-Asim household, and young Kalim, just a child of eight, found himself once again pushed to the side in favor of the family’s guests.
The lavish banquet hall gleamed with gold, silver, and jewels, and Kalim could hear the music echoing from the far corners of the palace.
But there, amidst all the splendor, he felt like a ghost.
His parents were too busy entertaining their guests to even spare him a passing glance.
His father, smiling warmly as he toasted to their success, and his mother, ever the gracious host, both seemed so distant to him.
Kalim had always been a quiet child, never one to demand attention, but that Christmas, he longed for a simple moment with them..just one small moment where they would look at him with pride, with love, and not as an afterthought.
“Kalim, come on! Let’s play!” a cousin called, snapping him from his thoughts.
But Kalim shook his head, the lump in his throat growing bigger.
“I... I think I’ll stay here.”
He wasn’t quite sure why the words came out that way, but he didn’t want to leave the warmth of the hearth, even if it only reminded him of how alone he felt in his own home.
He sat quietly on the couch, watching the merriment unfold before him, while his parents remained occupied with the festivities.
For all the grandeur, for all the wealth, Kalim felt small and insignificant.
His wish for that Christmas was simple: for someone to notice him, to spend even a few minutes with him, to remind him that he mattered.
But no one did.
The night passed in a blur of laughter and food, and Kalim retreated to his room, where the scent of pine from the grand tree in the foyer barely reached him.
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, clutching the stuffed camel his mother had given him in a failed attempt to fill the emptiness.
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Kalim blinked, shaking the memory away as his fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of his crumpled letter to Santa.
He didn’t really believe in Santa, of course—how could he? But he had seen the others writing letters, and something inside him yearned for that sense of hope, that simple act of wishing for something he wasn’t sure he would ever have.
Sighing, Kalim sat up straighter, staring at the fireplace crackling in front of him.
He had always been told that he was lucky, that he was blessed with so much, but it never seemed to fill the void in his heart.
His family’s wealth, their position in society—it never made him feel less alone.
For the first time in a long while, Kalim allowed himself to really think about the Christmases.
The ones that were supposed to be filled with warmth and joy but had instead been marred by a deep loneliness.
He had tried to bury it under the endless smiles, the laughter, the extravagant parties, but now, as he sat there in his dorm room, that pain bubbled up again.
He wanted something more than all the riches in the world.
He wanted to be seen, truly seen, by those he loved.
But more than anything, he wanted the love he had always longed for.
The sound of a soft knock at the door broke his train of thought.
Kalim wiped his eyes quickly, not wanting anyone to see the vulnerability that had crept into his face.
He didn’t want to show weakness—he never did.
“ Kalim” Jamil’s voice called from the other side.
“You coming to help us with the decorations?”
Kalim hesitated for a moment, then stood up.
His smile, bright and effortless as always, returned to his face.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
But as he walked to the door, he glanced back at the letter on the desk.
He didn’t know why he had written what he had.
It felt silly now, but still, there was a part of him that held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, it would come true.
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The dorm’s common room was alive with energy as everyone scrambled to put the finishing touches on the Christmas tree.
Jamil was already fussing with the lights, muttering under his breath about making sure the strands were even.
Kalim, who had been silent for most of the evening, stepped forward and picked up an ornament.
“Hey, Jamil,” Kalim said, his voice soft but steady.
“How about we hang this one together?”
Jamil raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips looking at the child Kalim.
“You’re finally getting into the spirit, huh?”
Kalim nodded, glancing around at the decorations that filled the room.
It wasn’t much compared to the grand banquets of his past, but there was something about this something that felt right.
The laughter of his friends, the easy camaraderie between them, the warmth that filled the room it was everything he had always wanted, even if he hadn’t realized it.
“Maybe this Christmas won’t be so bad,”
Kalim thought, a genuine smile tugging at his lips as he handed the ornament to Jamil.
As they placed it on the tree, Kalim felt something shift within him.
It wasn’t the material things, the wealth, or the extravagance that filled the void he had once felt.
It was the connection, the warmth of shared moments, the feeling of being seen and loved.
For the first time in years, Kalim finally felt like his wish had come true as he look at the bigger version of Jamil. It was strange..
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Yes....Maybe it had come true after all...
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_______________________________________________________________
Letter to Santa:
“Dear Santa,
I wish Mother is proud of me.
From, Vil”
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In the festive glow of the Pomefiore common room, the laughter and joy were palpable, but a child version of Vil Schoenheit stood off to the side, his usual composure faltering slightly.
The sparkling decorations, the sweet scent of gingerbread, and the warmth of the fireplace couldn't quite mask the ache that lingered in his chest.
This Christmas was different.
Vil, who had always been the epitome of perfection, was struggling to hold it all together.
Christmas with his Mother had never been about warmth. It had always been a performance.
There were no tender moments by the fireplace, no laughter echoing through the halls.
Instead, there were strict lessons, endless rehearsals, and criticisms. Vil’s mother had always demanded more.
Every year, his mother would stand by, judging his every move, measuring his every gesture.
It was as though Christmas, like every other part of Vil’s life, had to be perfect, or else it wasn’t worth celebrating.
The weight of his mother's expectations had always felt crushing.
Vil had tried, year after year, to meet those standards, but it had never been enough.
Christmas had become a season of anxiety, where his only task was to maintain an image of flawlessness.
There had been no love, no joy, only the cold distance between him and the mother who refused to show affection.
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Vil was ten years old when the cracks in his relationship with his mother began to widen.
It was Christmas Eve, and Vil had been practicing his lines for the family’s annual Christmas gala.
His father mother instructed him to perform perfectly for their guests, as if it were the most important thing in the world.
The house was decorated beautifully, but it felt like a performance.
His mother was dressed immaculately, the picture of elegance, while Vil was expected to be the perfect, charming heir. There was no room for mistakes.
If Vil so much as missed a step, his mother’s eyes would narrow, his lips forming a tight line of disapproval.
“Vil,” his mother’s voice had been sharp,
“ You need to be flawless. Our family’s reputation depends on this.”
Vil swallowed hard, nodding silently, but his chest tightened with each passing moment.
He wanted to please his mother, but no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough.
This Christmas, he had rehearsed his speech, perfected his posture, but still, something inside him felt hollow.
When the party began, Vil stood on display, smiling and greeting the guests as his mother watched from a distance, the cold approval in his gaze never reaching his eyes.
He had been a perfect child that night—polite, poised, flawless. But when the evening ended, and the guests had left, Vil was left alone with his mother
“You still aren’t good enough,” his mother had said, her voice betraying no warmth.
“I expect better from you next year.”
Vil had nodded again, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill.
Christmas all had come and gone without a single trace of joy added that his father is busy with his career and never arrive or much to spend the holiday.
All that remained was the endless pursuit of perfection, the fear of his mother’s disapproval, and the nagging feeling that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be enough.
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' I wish father is here....'
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Vil shifted uncomfortably in the present, looking down at the small plate of cookies in his hands.
The decorations in the Pomefiore dorm were stunning, and everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves.
But for Vil, it was hard to shake the feeling of loneliness that clung to him.
The memories of his cold Christmases with his mother persisted, just as sharp and clear as they had been a year ago.
How could he ever enjoy the holiday, knowing it had always been a reminder of how little he was cared for?
Just as he was about to retreat to a corner to brood, a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.
“ Roi du Poison, you’ve been quiet. Are you okay?”
It was Rook, his ever-present friend and ally as the latter said who seemed to always notice when Vil was struggling.
The gentle concern in Rook’s eyes made Vil want to retreat even more.
He didn’t want to burden anyone with his problems, especially not during Christmas.
But there was something about Rook’s presence that made it hard to push him away.
“I’m fine, just… thinking,” Vil said, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Rook didn’t seem convinced, his gaze softening.
“I can tell you’re not fine. You’ve been staring at those cookies for a long time. Something’s bothering you.”
Vil hesitated.
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How could he explain the weight of his past, the constant pressure from mother, and how that had poisoned his memories of Christmas?
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How could he tell Rook about the years of loneliness he had endured, always striving for perfection in hopes of earning just a fraction of his mother’s love?
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" Remember Vil, A Schoenheit must never show weakness or they will use it against you "
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“I…” Vil started, but his words faltered. It was hard to speak of things that had been buried for so long.
Rook, sensing his discomfort, sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You don’t have to tell me everything, Roi du Poison. But I want you to know that you’re not alone. And this Christmas... you don’t have to be perfect. You can just be yourself.”
Vil’s breath caught in his throat.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt the weight on his shoulders lighten.
The pressure to be perfect, to live up to his mother’s impossible standards, seemed to evaporate in that moment. Rook wasn’t asking him to be flawless—he was asking him to be Vil. And that was enough.
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“ But...I don’t know how to let go,”
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Rook smiled warmly.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to do it all at once. But you have people here who care about you. You don’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.”
The warmth in Rook’s voice and the kindness in his eyes were enough to make Vil’s heart swell.
For the first time, he felt like maybe he could have a Christmas that wasn’t weighed down by the ghosts of his past.
A Christmas where he could be himself, flaws and all, and still be loved.
---
As the night wore on, the dormmates gathered around the fireplace, laughter and conversation flowing freely.
Vil sat with Rook, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the company of his friends.
The decorations sparkled, and the scent of holiday treats filled the air, but what truly made this Christmas different was the sense of belonging he felt.
For once, there was no need to be perfect. For once, Vil could simply be himself.
He reached for a cookie, smiling at the way Rook was happily chatting with Epel about his own family’s traditions.
There was a joy in the air that Vil had never known before, a joy not tied to perfection or expectations.
And for the first time, he felt like he could enjoy Christmas—not as a performance, but as a celebration of who he truly was.
Even though his wish was never been fulfilled but this was nice.
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It was nice.....
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_______________________________________________________________
Letter to Santa:
“Dear Santa,
I wish for someone to spend Christmas together.
From, Idia”
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The dim light of Christmas evening flickered across the cold walls of the Ignihyde dorm.
The usual hum of technology that filled the air had been replaced by a strange, quiet silence, a stark contrast to the world that Idia had grown used to one filled with screens, flashing lights, and the constant buzz of his gaming world.
Idia, as a child, had often been alone.
His father, always busy with corporate dealings, and his mother, always caught up in her own business, rarely made time for him.
Christmas had never been a time for family bonding.
Instead, it was a day that passed like any other....quiet and uneventful, with little excitement.
But there was one Christmas that stuck with him the last one he had with Ortho, back before the younger android had... changed.
It was the year that Idia's family had celebrated without much fanfare.
His father had been away, and his mother had decided to spend the day with "important clients" while Idia stayed in his room, lost in a game.
Idia remembered how Ortho had tried, with all his might, to make the day special.
The little android had somehow managed to decorate the dorm with what little he could find—tinsel, cheap ornaments, and a hastily assembled, artificial tree.
Ortho had eagerly asked Idia what he wanted for Christmas, but Idia hadn’t known how to answer.
He hadn’t asked for anything, because he didn't believe Christmas could bring him what he wanted most: connection, warmth, love.
And so, he sat in the dark, alone with his thoughts, while Ortho ran around, trying to create the perfect Christmas for his brother.
"Big brother! I made the tree! And I even got presents!" Ortho had exclaimed, his mechanical voice filled with excitement as he dragged a wrapped box to Idia’s room.
"It’s not much, but it’s for you!"
Idia had watched Ortho, the tiny android with glowing blue eyes, eagerly waiting for a reaction.
He had smiled, a small, fleeting expression that quickly vanished, feeling the hollow ache of loneliness despite the effort Ortho had put in.
He wasn’t used to this kind of attention or care.
Christmas was just another day that would pass without meaning.
Despite his reluctance, Idia had opened the gift.
It was a small, intricately designed gaming accessory something Ortho had clearly worked hard to customize.
A small gesture, but a gesture of care all the same.
It wasn’t much, but it meant everything to Idia in that moment.
Ortho's joy, his enthusiasm, and the way he believed in the magic of Christmas were things Idia had never known before.
As Ortho presented his gift, Idia realized something.
He didn't need extravagant displays of wealth or perfect family moments.
He needed someone who cared enough to make an effort someone like Ortho, who was there, always trying to make his world a little brighter, no matter how empty or cold it seemed.
And when they sat together that night, the artificial tree glowing weakly in the corner of the room, Idia felt a warmth he had never truly known.
It was fleeting, but it was real.
For the first time in his life, he understood that Christmas wasn’t about grand gestures.
It was about the small things...the care in the gestures, the thought behind them, and the love that existed in the simplest moments.
---
Idia’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, his gaze distant as he watched the other dorm members celebrate. It was strange to experience like those anime..
The Ignihyde dorm was quieter than the others, as usual, but this time, something was different.
Despite the technological distractions, Idia felt a warmth in his chest a sense of something more.
Ortho, his little brother, was beside him, excitedly sharing his holiday cheer with the rest of the group, as always.
The younger android had grown since that Christmas the last one before the incident that had separated them for so long.
But even now, Ortho remained ever-optimistic, his glowing eyes sparkling with the same excitement that he had shown that Christmas night long ago.
"Big brother! I made the decorations! And I also ordered a cake from the delivery service! It’s a special limited edition—perfect for the holiday!" Ortho chimed, clearly proud of himself.
Idia’s lips quirked upward in a small smile.
He had never been one for flashy displays of holiday spirit, but seeing Ortho so happy, so determined to make the season bright for both of them, brought a warmth to his heart that he hadn’t felt in years.
The ache of past loneliness lingered in the back of his mind, but it was easier to ignore now, especially when Ortho was here present, full of life, and filling the room with joy.
Ortho had always been there, even when Idia hadn’t known how to appreciate it.
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Idia had found it hard to believe that this day would be any different.
As Ortho handed him the gift that Christmas, a quiet, yet sorrowful thought gnawed at the back of his mind.
It was an ordinary gift, something simple that Ortho had put his heart into.
Yet the meaning behind it became clearer in the following weeks as Ortho, the one constant in his life, gradually faded away.
The joyful, innocent smile he had seen that Christmas morning became a distant memory, replaced by the cold, mechanical obedience that Ortho’s new form was bound to.
"Big brother, you don’t need to worry! We’re together, and that’s all that matters, right?"
Ortho had said, his voice filled with unshakable certainty as the Christmas lights shimmered in the background.
Idia hadn’t known what to say back then.
How could he explain that what mattered most wasn’t just being together, but feeling like they belonged together? The fragility of their relationship had started to set in, even though Ortho was always there for him.
The distance had been growing, even before the accident that changed everything.
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As Idia watched Ortho, the warmth in his chest spread.
It wasn’t the same warmth from the pst, that fleeting moment of affection, but something deeper—something stronger. Ortho wasn’t just an android anymore. He was family. He was a brother in every sense of the word. “Thank you, Ortho,” Idia muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.” Ortho’s eyes gleamed, his smile as wide as it had been years ago. “No need to thank me, Big brother! We’re family, and that’s what matters!” Idia chuckled softly, his heart light. Maybe this Christmas wasn’t so bad after all. --- The dorm was filled with the faint hum of gaming consoles and the soft sound of laughter as everyone celebrated, but in the corner of the room, Idia and Ortho shared a quiet moment. Ortho had insisted on setting up a game for both of them to play, and despite Idia’s protests, he found himself enjoying it more than he had expected. For once, he wasn’t surrounded by the pressure of expectations or the isolation of being out of place. With Ortho, he could finally relax, feel like he belonged, and not have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. As they exchanged gift cards and holiday treats, Idia felt a warmth, a connection, and an overwhelming sense of love. Ortho had done more than just make Christmas special he had reminded Idia of what Christmas truly was: not about grand gestures, not about perfection, but about love, acceptance, and being there for each other when it mattered most. “Big brother,” Ortho said, looking up at him with a joyful gleam in his eyes, “I’m glad we’re spending Christmas together.” Idia’s fingers twitched slightly, and he felt a warmth flood his chest. “Me too, Ortho. Me too.” And for the first time in his life, Christmas felt complete. . . . . . Yes....It's complete... . . . . . . _____________________________________________________________ Letter to Santa: “Dear Santa, I wish to experience what is Christmas is. From, Malleus” . . . . . The snow was falling softly outside, blanketing the world in a serene hush, as the fireplace crackled with warmth in the grand hall of the Diasomnia dorm. But inside Malleus's heart, there was nothing but silence, a profound emptiness that felt colder than the snow itself. The holiday decorations hung in the ancient halls, but none of it felt real. The warmth, the joy, the laughter it was all a façade, a story that didn’t reach Malleus's heart. He never knew what Christmas is until Lilia brought it up. It was a strange traditions from the human to celebrate something for a person? Much less Santa Claus. As a child, Malleus had been brought up with strict traditions, rituals steeped in centuries of history that is strictly Fae. No humans tradition but deep inside he longed this tradition. It was a very nice tradition. Now, de-aged and stripped of his memories, Malleus found himself in a very different place—an unfamiliar dorm room filled with the warmth and light of Christmas decorations. He was surrounded by laughter, cheer, and the unmistakable scent of gingerbread. The world had changed so much in the blink of an eye, but somehow, the ache in his chest felt the same. The yearning for to experience it still lingered. The other dorm members around him seemed carefree, and laughing, while Malleus stood at the edges, watching them with a quiet intensity. Sebek, Lilia and Silver, had tried their best to include him, but Malleus felt like an outsider, a visitor in his own dorm He had never truly learned how to be around others without the looming presence of his royal blood and the responsibilities it demanded. " Malleus!" Lilia called out, waving him over with a bright grin. "Come on! We’re decorating the tree! You can help me hang the stars!" Malleus hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. The warm light of the room was inviting, but it felt foreign, like something he was unworthy of. "I... I’m not sure I belong here," Malleus muttered quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to celebrate like you do." Lilia’s smile faltered for a moment, and then he placed a reassuring hand on Malleus's small shoulder. "Malleus, you don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be here with us. We’re a family, remember?" . . . . Family? . . . ____________________________________________________ As Malleus sat at the edge of the room, watching the others decorate the tree, he could feel the tension begin to loosen in his chest. Perhaps it was the festive lights, or perhaps it was the presence of his friends around him, but for the first time in a long while, he felt... accepted. "Come on, Malleus!" Silver called out, his small hands holding up a star to hang on the tree. "I’m sure you’ll do a great job!" Malleus’s eyes lingered on the star, and for a brief moment, he felt a flicker of warmth in his heart. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t loud, but it was real. The warmth of being with others, of sharing a moment together this was something he had never truly experienced before, not in the way he did now. He stood up slowly, walking over to Silver and Lilia, and took the star from Silver’s hands. There was hesitation in his movements, but a quiet determination in his eyes. "Alright," Malleus said, his voice soft but resolute. "Let’s decorate the tree." Lilia grinned from ear to ear. "That’s the spirit! You’re part of this family, Malleus. We’re all here together." And for the first time in a long while, Malleus believed it. . . . . . The tree sparkled with the light of a thousand tiny ornaments, and the room hummed with the sound of laughter and music. The cold of the outside world seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of togetherness that Malleus had always longed for. As he stood beside Lilia and Silver, hanging the last few ornaments with Sebek preparing in the Kitchen. Malleus felt a sense of peace settle over him. The loneliness that had once defined his existence was still there, somewhere deep inside, but now it was tempered by something else: the beginnings of connection. "Malleus," Lilia said, looking up at the tree, "you really made it look beautiful." Malleus smiled softly, a rare expression of true warmth on his face. "We did it together," he said quietly. . . . . "All of us." And in that moment, Malleus understood the true meaning of Christmas. It wasn’t about perfection or grand gestures. It wasn’t about the past, or the mistakes that came with it. It was about the people you shared it with, and the love that could grow, even in the coldest of times. The world outside might still be frozen in winter’s grip, but here, in the warmth of his dorm, surrounded by his friends, Malleus finally felt the first stirrings of the so called Christmas. . . . . . . . . . . . So this is what Christmas feels like...