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Leonard had been pacing in front of the loudest Christmas shop in the entire mall for half an hour. His steps were quick and restless, as if he were waiting for the universe to send him an arcane vision. In his head, obviously, he was already receiving them.
The problem was that none of them helped.
Tammy deserved a gift that combined mystical power, ancient beauty, and some kind of practical use that wouldn’t fall apart at the slightest breeze. It couldn’t be just anything. Not for her, the brightest sorceress in the realm, the only one who had ever tolerated his imaginary campaigns and his impeccable roleplay skills without complaining. The very least he could do was find something worthy.
He approached a table covered in shiny ornaments. He picked one up. It looked like a miniature staff, red and gold. He lifted it with solemn ceremony.
He imagined Tammy holding it.
He imagined the grand line he could say while giving it to her.
And then he imagined the expression she’d make when it inevitably snapped in half.
He put it back on the table with a sigh that was dangerously close to tragic.
“True magic doesn’t reside in fragile objects,” he muttered.
He kept moving down the aisle. Christmas music blasted from every speaker, and he tried to mentally turn it into medieval tavern music. It worked, sort of. The animatronic elf three meters away ruined the ambiance every time it shouted, “Ho-ho-ho, buy five get four!” Hard to maintain any epic vibe with that around.
Leonard stopped in front of a shelf overflowing with “collectible” items: toy swords, glittery capes, crooked crowns… nothing felt right.
But then he saw something glint under the light: a book. Not a real book, but a box shaped like one, decorated with gold detailing and a fake lock. On the cover, an ancient-looking constellation and the title “The Keeper of Secrets.”
There it was.
His heart did a weird, warm jump.
Tammy loved keeping notes, drawings, ideas for spells they never used. She always carried loose papers, folded sheets, potion instructions stuck in random corners. A box disguised as a grimoire would be perfect.
A magical hideaway for her magical treasures.
He reached out to pick it up, but hesitated.
He didn’t want to rush it. He had to be sure it was the one.
He crossed his arms like he was examining an ancient relic, even though it was just polished cardboard.
“Yes… this could be the ideal vessel for my sorceress’s wisdom.”
What he didn’t know was that, somewhere else in the same mall, Tammy was on her own quest.
She walked carrying a bag filled with crumpled papers covered in crossed-out ideas. Because of course she also wanted to give Leonard the perfect gift. Something epic. Something worthy of her “champion of arcane chaos.”
As she walked beneath massive ornaments and strings of lights dangling from the ceiling, she went over the discarded options.
It couldn’t be clothes. Leonard had very specific tastes, and although she loved him just the way he was, she didn’t trust herself to pick a cape that wouldn’t look like a tablecloth.
It couldn’t be themed food either, because he claimed that any “authentic medieval sweet” should be rough, rugged, and “texturally challenging,” which was basically a recipe for disaster.
So it had to be something symbolic, something that reinforced the stories they always built together when they played at being heroes, wizards, or whatever characters they invented that day.
Tammy walked into the Christmas shop almost without thinking, hoping for inspiration. The music hit her ears immediately, but she ignored it. She was in sacred mission mode.
She wandered through shelves, pushing aside ornaments, inspecting toys, examining fake magical decorations.
Nothing convinced her.
Until she reached a themed gift section. And there it was.
A book-box.
Hardfake cover. Gold details. Decorative lock.
“The Keeper of Secrets.”
The reaction was instant.
She imagined him storing his wildest ideas inside. His notes for future “legendary campaigns.” His badly drawn maps. His theories about mystical creatures that were clearly just plushies with tails.
It was perfect.
A noble container for the guardian of her nonsense.
She reached out to grab it, smiling already.
Until another hand reached for it at the exact same moment.
Leonard’s hand.
The world froze for a moment.
Both stood still, their fingers brushing the book’s spine. The Christmas music kept playing, but it felt like it drifted miles away.
It was ridiculous, but also comfortable.
Like this had been inevitable from the start.
Leonard opened his mouth, probably to say something epic and grand, but nothing came out.
Tammy looked at him with those eyes that always seemed to know more than she let on.
For a heartbeat, they were as still as the snowmen in the display window.
And then, without meaning to, they laughed.
Not a timid laugh, but one full of relief, affection, and shared ridiculousness.
Because of course they had picked the same gift.
Of course they were on the same wavelength.
Of course, out of thousands of options, they had ended up thinking exactly alike.
Leonard lowered his hand, still laughing.
“I believe fate has spoken,” he said, trying to sound solemn and barely managing.
Tammy lifted the book-box gently.
“Or maybe we’re just the same kind of nerd.”
The store lights shimmered across the golden cover. Outside, fake snow spiraled lazily. And among the noise, color, and chaos of holiday shopping, the two of them stood there holding a gift that was no longer just a gift.
It was a symbol.
A beautiful bit of nonsense.
Another reminder that they were meant to sync up even when they didn’t try.
They walked to the register together, laughing every few steps, without needing epic words or invented spells.
Sometimes real magic was this simple.