A year ago today I posted a Christmas Flash Fiction as a part of a Flash Fiction Holiday Blog Hop. We were 40 authors participating, and I thought I’d recycle my post. Unfortunately, the links in the blue frog only take you to the other authors’ websites, but if you’re willing to do some digging around, I’m sure you’ll find their flashes/short stories for free there to get you in a wintery holiday mood.
Below follows the original post.
The Flash Fiction Holiday Blog Hop is here! The stories should all fit under the GLBTQ umbrella, and they should include three things:
A winter holiday theme
A “bad boy” character
A gift of some kind
To read the other authors’ stories, click on the blue frog above and you’ll be taken to their links.
The Porcelain Santa
Sprawled on the window seat, I watched the snow falling outside. I love this time of year, love the preparations, the anticipation, and the serenity that comes with Christmas. The cup in my hand warmed my skin, and my flat smelled of candles and holiday biscuits. Even the normally depressing courtyard outside my window could’ve starred as a motif on a Christmas card with the glistening snow that clung to every surface. I closed my eyes with a content sigh…and heard the all too familiar noise of a snowmobile. Flying up into a sitting position, I made the tea in my cup spill over the rim and onto my fingers. The snowmobile was skidding over the yard—messing up the untouched snow. That fucking idiot! Why did he always have to destroy everything?
I glared at Zach through the window, he knew I was there, of course, and he turned to give me a cheeky smile before heading for the front door. Bastard! I blew out the candles and stomped out to the kitchen where I poured the remaining tea down the sink. Since the day he’d moved in, he’d ruined things for me. Always loud, always there, always so fucking handsome. I wanted to strangle him.
I might have stayed a little longer than usual in bed the following morning, and I might have taken a little longer to eat my breakfast, but no matter how much I delayed it, I had to go to work—my last workday before the holiday.
Zach always went before I did, about eight minutes before. But today he was late. I sighed, making the glass in the peephole fog. Finally, I saw his door open on the other side of the hallway. I closed my eyes and counted to a hundred before I opened my door, sauntered down the eight steps, and went outside with a quick look around. Zach was nowhere to be seen, I could’ve sagged in relief.
“Hey, Benji! Wait up!” Where the hell had he been hiding? I gave him an icy stare. His confident grin made me want to smack him. Or kiss him. Either or. Those warm dark eyes glowed, and I just loved the way his black hair became a curly mess when it got a little too long. The knitted cap he wore today hid most of his curls, and it infuriated me that I felt disappointed for being unable to see them.
“You shouldn’t be walking in this weather. Come on let me drive you to work.”
“I’m not getting on that snowmobile,” I exclaimed appalled.
His lips twitched as he fought a laugh. “I do have a car, you know.”
I hadn’t known that. He was on that damned Ski-Doo all the time. “Then why do you ride that thing?”
“Because you’re pretty when you’re angry.” I gaped at him. The nerve! I was not pretty, and I did not get angry. I was hardly ever angry! “See, like that,” he said, and I swear his eyes twinkled. “Come on, I drive past your work anyway.”
“How would you know where I work?”
Zach raised a brow. “You work at Simon’s, everyone knows that.”
Everyone did not know that, hardly anyone knew that. Of course, people knew that I worked there, it’s a café and people aren’t blind, but…
We reached the garage, and it turned out Zach did have a car. “Here, let me take your bag.” He took it and held the passenger door open. I squinted at him before climbing in. He took an awfully long time walking around the car, and once he started driving, he was looking more at me than on the traffic. “So, Benji, where will you be spending Christmas?”
“At home,” I grumbled.
“Not going anywhere?”
“Not having anyone over?”
“No.” I didn’t look at him. Since he kept looking at me, I felt the need to keep my eyes on the road.
“Why don’t you talk to me?
“Have nothing to say.”
Zach nodded. “We’ll change that.”
I snorted, relieved that we’d reached Simon’s. Jumping out of the car I noticed Zach doing the same. I frowned as he handed me my backpack. I can’t believe I forgot it.
“See you later,” Zach said with a kind of smile I hadn’t seen before. What was he up to? His eyes were soft, but that grin made me cautious. I nodded and went to work.
The smile that had played on my lips the entire way home from work died when I unlocked the front door. My hand-painted porcelain Santa Claus was crushed, there were tiny pieces all over the hallway floor.
Someone had been in my flat! My stomach clenched as I peered into the living room. No one there.
That’s when I noticed a box of chocolate on the hall table where the Santa had been. A note was sticking out of it. I took it and read, “I have a gift for you. Love Zach.”
I stared at it, stared at the broken Santa, and swung around. That fucking bastard! I stomped over to his flat and banged on the door. He opened it, a look of uncertainty flitted across his face before his usual confident grin took over.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“I…er…I was gonna leave you a box of chocolate.”
“So you picked my lock?”
“Well, yeah. You really should get a tumbler lock.”
“What the fuck, Zach!”
“Yeah…but, I wanted to give you something tonight, so when I had the chance by the car this morning, I slipped your calendar out of your bag—only to make sure you’d be free. I picked your lock to leave the note, I never meant to break the china thing!”
“Why would you do such a thing?” My jaw ached from how hard I was grinding my teeth.
“To make you come over here.”
“Why would I come over here?”
“To have dinner with me.” He stepped aside to show a beautifully set table with candles and white lilies. “But now I realise that we need to go down to the novelty shop to get you a new porcelain thing.”
“Was my calendar the gift you were referring to in the note,” I groused, annoyed with myself for not being angrier with him.
His nose crinkled. “Of course not! That was just to check if you were free.”
“So…dinner is the gift?”
“Yeah…well, I was thinking…kinda like…er…I’m the gift.”
I felt my eyes go wide. “You’re the gift?”
“Yeah, look I have a ribbon and everything.” He started to unbutton his jeans.
“Zach!” He looked up and winked. “That’s so fucking lame,” I breathed and felt my face warm.
He smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m serious. I’m yours if you’ll have me.”
“What the hell are you playing at?”
“Oh, come on, baby. You’re not that blind, are you? I like you. I want you.”
“But, you’re always making me angry.”
“Noo, I always make you notice me.” He leaned in, his breath ghosted over my skin. He lingered there, his lips almost touching mine. I heard myself whimper. He kissed me then, holding me close while exploring my mouth. I moaned, and his lips stretched into a smile. “Come on, let’s go buy you a new figurine.”
I nodded, a little dazed. He blew out the candles, grabbed his jacket, put his hand down the front of his jeans, and pulled out a red ribbon that he tossed into his flat before closing the door behind us.