Chapter 12

Santa stood in front of Perth’s condo door longer than necessary. The conversation at the café kept replaying in his head no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

He tried walking around this morning because apparently sitting still is physically impossible for him.

Santa frowned to himself again at the memory. Of course Perth would do something stupid like that. He exhaled quietly before finally pressing the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

Perth froze. The surprise on his face appeared instantly, so genuine that Santa almost felt embarrassed for showing up unannounced.

“Santa?”

His hair looked slightly messy, like he had been lying on the couch before getting up to answer the door. He wore a loose dark shirt and grey sweatpants, comfortable clothes that made him look softer somehow. Santa’s eyes immediately dropped toward Perth’s ankle.

Perth was barefoot. Which meant Pond had probably been telling the truth about him trying to walk around instead of resting properly.

Perth seemed to notice exactly where Santa was looking because he shifted his weight awkwardly and leaned more heavily against the doorframe.

For a second, neither of them spoke. Then Perth stepped aside. “Come in.”

Santa entered quietly while Perth slowly moved back toward the living room with a noticeable limp he was very clearly trying to hide.

The condo was calm and dimly lit by the fading evening sunlight filtering through the curtains. A soccer match replay was running silently on the television. An untouched ice pack sat abandoned on the coffee table.

Santa glanced at it with immediate disapproval.

Perth noticed. “I was using it earlier,” he defended himself instantly.

Santa gave him a look.

Perth sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. I forgot.”

Despite himself, Santa felt something warm flicker inside his chest. The exchange felt strangely normal. Familiar.

Perth carefully lowered himself onto the couch, his expression tightening slightly for a brief second when he moved his ankle wrong. Santa noticed immediately. Then he leaned back against the cushions before looking up at him again, still seeming slightly stunned that Santa was actually there.

“Did you see Pond?” he asked after a moment. “Is that why you came?”

Santa hesitated briefly, lying would be pointless. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly.

Perth rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish now. “He talks too much.”

“He was worried about you.”

A faint smile appeared on Perth’s face at that, small and tired. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

Santa stayed standing for another second before finally sitting down at the opposite end of the couch. The distance between them was still there, but it no longer felt as sharp as before. His eyes drifted toward Perth’s ankle again.

“You really made it worse?”

Perth immediately looked defensive. “It’s not worse.”

Santa raised an eyebrow.

“…Okay, maybe a little worse than yesterday.”

Santa let out a quiet breath through his nose, somewhere between annoyance and relief. “You’re impossible.”

Perth smiled faintly at that.

Santa looked down briefly, his fingers rubbing against the fabric of his sleeve while his thoughts tangled together again. Earlier at the coffee shop, he had tried convincing himself this visit was only about making sure Perth rested properly.

But sitting here now, seeing Perth looking genuinely happy just because he came over, made the truth harder to deny.

He had missed this. Missed him.

“I was worried too,” Santa admitted softly.

The smile disappeared from Perth’s face, replaced by something far more vulnerable. For a moment, he just stared at Santa in complete silence, like the confession meant more to him than it should have.

And maybe it did. Because not long ago, Santa would have avoided Perth entirely. Now he was here willingly. Checking if Perth had iced his ankle. Getting annoyed because he was not resting enough. Caring in his own ways.

Perth seemed to realize it too. Santa could see it in the way his expression softened almost painfully, like he was trying not to hope for too much all at once.

Santa crouched in front of the couch, one knee pressed against the carpet while Perth stretched his injured ankle toward him with obvious reluctance.

“Does it still hurt a lot?” Santa asked.

“A little.”

The ice pack rested against the swollen area of his ankle while Santa held it carefully in place through a towel. Perth leaned against the cushions with a quiet sigh, his shoulders finally losing some of their tension little by little. Only the low hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds from the street outside.

Santa tried not to react to the way Perth kept looking at him whenever he thought Santa was not paying attention. He focused instead on adjusting the towel before moving the ice slightly higher.

Truthfully, he did not mind being there. Not even a little.

Once enough time had passed, Santa removed the pack carefully before reaching for the cream the doctor gave. Perth watched him in silence this time, unusually cooperative.

“Did you even put any on today?”

Perth hesitated for half a second too long.

Santa stared at him flatly.

“…Maybe once?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Santa muttered.

He squeezed a small amount of cream onto his fingers before spreading it gently over the bruised skin. Perth inhaled sharply at first from the soreness, but after a few slow motions, he relaxed again.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Perth murmured. “Much better.”

Santa finished wrapping the ankle before standing up. “Good. Then stop moving around for no reason.”

Perth saluted lazily from the couch. “Yes, doctor.”

A few minutes later they settled in front of the TV together. Santa had expected Perth to complain about his movie choice immediately, yet Perth simply handed him the remote without protest.

“You choose.”

Santa raised an eyebrow. “That easy?”

“My life is already tragic enough right now. I don’t have the energy to fight over movies too.”

“That sprain really changed you.”

Perth laughed again, quieter this time, and Santa hated how much he liked hearing it.

The movie played in the background while the apartment slowly dimmed into evening. At some point Perth shifted closer without seeming to notice, his good leg brushing against Santa’s thigh beneath the blanket thrown over them. Neither of them mentioned it.

Santa barely followed half of the plot. Every now and then he caught Perth staring at the screen with sleepy eyes, his hair falling messily over his forehead, his expression softer.

Later, when Perth admitted he was hungry, Santa disappeared into the kitchen before Perth could suggest ordering takeout again. Perth tried to hover nearby at first, leaning against the counter while pretending he was helping.

Eventually Santa forced Perth back onto the couch while he finished cooking alone. The smell of garlic and pepper quickly filled the condo, warm and comforting in a way that made the place feel lived in instead of temporary.

They ate side by side on the couch with the movie still running forgotten in the background. Perth stole pieces from Santa’s plate whenever he thought Santa was distracted, and Santa pretended not to notice even though he noticed every single time.

For the first time since arriving, Perth looked completely relaxed. And sitting there beside him, listening to his quiet comments between bites of food and occasional laughter, Santa realized he was not in any hurry to leave.

By the time the movie ended, the apartment had gone completely quiet. The credits rolled unnoticed across the screen while Perth slept beside him, half buried under the blanket they had been sharing earlier. His head rested against the back of the couch at an awkward angle, breathing slow and even.

Santa lowered the volume instinctively. For a moment, he simply sat there, watching him.

Perth looked younger like this. Softer too. None of the usual teasing remarks, none of the stubborn attitude he always carried around like protection.

Santa exhaled quietly before leaning closer and nudging Perth’s shoulder carefully.

“Perth.”

A small sound escaped him, barely awake.

“It’s late,” Santa murmured. “You should sleep properly in your room.”

Perth frowned without opening his eyes completely. “Mm… what time is it?”

“Late enough.”

Perth blinked slowly, still trapped somewhere between sleep and consciousness. His expression looked adorably confused for a few seconds before he finally noticed Santa putting reluctantly his phone and wallet back into his pockets.

“You’re leaving?”

Santa nodded once. “I should go back before the dorm locks the main entrance.”

Perth hummed softly, eyes already drifting shut again. “Okay… be careful.”

Santa paused.

“And send me a message when you arrive,” Perth continued sleepily. “Like last time.”

Something twisted sharply inside Santa’s chest. Last time.

Santa stared at him for a second longer before speaking. “So you really don’t want me to stay at all?”

Perth’s eyes snapped open immediately, the sleepiness vanished from his face almost instantly. “What?”

Santa looked away first, jaw tightening despite himself. He suddenly felt stupid for even asking, yet the uncomfortable feeling refused to disappear.

“You keep telling me to go back,” he muttered quietly. “You said it yesterday too.”

Perth pushed himself upright too quickly before wincing from the movement in his ankle.

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

Santa laughed once under his breath, but there was no humor in it. “Forget it.”

“No, seriously.” Perth stared at him with obvious confusion now, completely awake. “How did you even get that from what I said?”

“You told me to message you when I get back safely.”

“Because it’s late and you have to drive back alone,” Perth replied immediately, sounding baffled. “What else was I supposed to say?”

Santa stayed silent.

Perth looked at him for another long second before realization slowly crossed his face.

“No way,” he breathed out.

Santa instantly regretted bringing it up.

“You thought I wanted you to leave?”

The embarrassment creeping up Santa’s neck only made him more irritated.

“You said it like you already expected me to go.”

Perth stared at him in complete disbelief before letting out the quietest laugh imaginable.

Not mocking, just genuinely stunned.

“Santa,” he said carefully, “I was half asleep.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It literally is.”

Santa crossed his arms defensively while Perth continued looking at him like he had suddenly become impossible to understand.

Perth’s expression softened almost immediately after that. The confusion was still there, but now it mixed with something warmer, something that made Santa’s chest feel strangely tight again.

“Santa,” Perth said quietly, “Of course you can stay if you want.”

Santa looked at him then.

Perth shifted carefully on the couch, blanket sliding down to his lap. “I just…” He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated to stay because I got injured.”

Santa frowned slightly. “You make it sound like I’m here out of pity.”

“No.” Perth shook his head immediately. “That’s not what I mean.”

The TV continued playing forgotten previews in the background, filling the silence between them with distant voices and music neither of them paid attention to.

Perth sighed quietly before continuing. “You already came here yesterday. And today too.” His gaze dropped briefly toward his hands. “You’ve been taking care of me. I know you have your own stuff to do, your classes, your exams…”

Santa stayed leaning beside the couch, listening.

“I didn’t want you to think you had to stay just because I’m hurt,” Perth admitted. “That would make me feel horrible, honestly.”

The honesty in his voice caught Santa off guard. Perth was rarely this open about what he felt. Usually he hid everything behind teasing smiles and sarcastic comments before anyone could look too closely. But right now he just looked tired.

Santa’s irritation slowly dissolved into something heavier and much more difficult to deal with. Because Perth genuinely believed Santa was only staying out of responsibility.

As if Santa would spend hours taking care of someone he did not care about.

As if he would cook for them, argue with them, sit through a movie barely paying attention because he was too focused on the person beside him.

As if any of this felt forced.

“You’re overthinking,” Santa muttered quietly.

Perth let out a small laugh. “Probably.”

“No, definitely.”

That earned him another sleepy smile. Santa looked away before that smile could affect him even more than it already did.

The couch dipped slightly as Perth shifted closer again without thinking, his shoulder brushing against Santa’s arm.

“If you stay,” Perth murmured, voice softer now, “It’s because you want to. Okay?”

Santa swallowed once. The simple sentence settled heavily inside his chest, because Perth had no idea how dangerous those words were. No idea how badly Santa wanted exactly that. To stay.

Perth watched him carefully after the long silence stretched between them.

“So?” he asked quietly.

Santa finally looked back at him. “…Then I’ll stay.”

The relief that crossed Perth’s face happened so quickly and naturally that Santa almost missed it.

Almost.

“Good,” Perth mumbled, already sounding half asleep again as he relaxed back against the couch cushions. “Because honestly, I didn’t want you to leave either.”

Perth tried to hide his yawn behind his hand and failed miserably. Santa watched him with poorly concealed amusement while Perth blinked slowly like he was fighting to stay awake out of pure stubbornness.

“You look dead.”

“Thank you,” Perth muttered. “That’s exactly the energy boost I needed.”

Santa snorted quietly.

Perth pushed himself up from the couch with care this time, immediately reaching for the armrest to avoid putting too much pressure on his ankle. Santa instinctively moved closer in case he lost balance again, but Perth managed to stay upright.

“I can survive walking five meters,” Perth complained when he noticed the look on Santa’s face.

“Debatable.”

Perth ignored him and pointed lazily toward the hallway instead. “You can shower first if you want.”

Santa hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Perth rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “Just borrow clothes from my closet. Left side should fit you.”

Santa stared at him for half a second. “You’re letting me steal your clothes now?”

Perth looked genuinely confused. “You’re not going to sleep with your daily clothes, aren’t you?”

“…You’re right.”

While Santa disappeared into the bathroom, Perth limped slowly toward his bedroom to grab extra pillows and blankets.

Truthfully, calling it “preparing” the couch was generous. He mostly just threw things at it until it vaguely resembled somewhere a human being could sleep. Perth collapsed back onto the couch afterward with a dramatic sigh, staring at his terrible work with minimal satisfaction.

The sound of running water echoed faintly through the condo, mixing with the distant noise from outside. Perth pulled the blanket over his lap while waiting, sleepiness slowly creeping back over him.

The bathroom door finally opened some time later, pulling Perth out of his thoughts immediately. And unfortunately for his mental stability, Santa walked out looking unfairly good wearing Perth’s clothes.

The oversized shirt hung loosely on him, dark hair still damp from the shower. A few drops of water slid down the side of his neck before disappearing beneath the collar.

Perth stared a second too long.

Santa noticed instantly. “What?”

Perth looked away so fast it almost hurt his neck. “Nothing.”

Santa dried his hair with the towel around his shoulders while glancing toward the couch. “…What is this?”

“My masterpiece.”

Santa blinked at the pile of pillows and blanket Perth had clearly arranged with absolutely no effort whatsoever.

“It looks like the couch lost a fight.”

“I did my best.”

“That’s concerning.”

Perth ignored him proudly. “Anyway, you can sleep in the bed. I’ll stay here.”

Santa looked at him like he had just said something ridiculous. “No.”

Perth frowned. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean you’re injured and this is your apartment.”

“And?”

“And you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

Perth crossed his arms defensively. “Santa, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

Perth opened his mouth to argue again, but Santa cut him off before he could.

“We can both sleep on the bed,” Santa said simply. Then after a brief pause, quieter this time, “Unless you’re uncomfortable with that.”

For one second Perth only stared at him, then he laughed, really laughed.

Santa frowned immediately. “Why are you laughing?”

“You really thought I’d say no to sharing a bed?” Perth asked, still smiling.

Santa’s ears burned slightly at that. “Well, I don’t know.”

Perth shook his head fondly before standing carefully again. “Relax. I’m not uncomfortable.”

Then after a small pause, softer this time, he added, “Actually… I think I’d sleep better knowing you’re here next to me.”

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