The Christmas cheer was fleeting and the winter chill always stuck straight to their bones.

It was petulant, still, to think either one of them could salvage the holidays. Tube socks were crudely stapled to the wall, beautifully decorated with cheap dollar store markers that Nero had slipped into his pocket last week. Dante had made sure to fill them with pepper mint candy that he'd taken from his job at a restaurant a couple blocks over, hoping—quite desperately—that it'd look more festive. Candles were set around the small studio apartment, ones that always smelled like spice and cinnamon and home. Most of the decorations were homemade, Nero had sat himself in front of the tiny, cracked TV set, adjusting the antennas every five minutes so he could watch and mimic as Martha Stuart demonstrated how to make this or that. To complete the set up, there was a Charlie brown-esque Christmas tree sitting on the far end of the room, looking quite depressing with no presents underneath.

He wondered if that spot would remain empty.

When Dante finally came home from his third job, he found Nero trying to sew together a Santa Clause hat from old pieces of clothing that didn't fit him anymore. He smiled at the smaller ones effort and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, warmly. "Look what I swiped." Dante held up a fist full of candy canes and red eyes lit up, surging forward to kiss him on the mouth hard and desperate.

Nero didn't speak, not anymore, but his smile always conveyed everything he could've possibly said.

"I knew you'd be happy," He breathed. "We're going to make the most out of this, I promise. I just want you to be happy."

They were only seventeen; they were desperate to hold onto the Christmas naivety for just a little bit longer.