Page 63 of Ho Ho Homicidal Mania
Nico has shown me more heart than any of the people whoought tocare for me, and he’s been gentle, patient even, when I betrayed his trust. He might be a killer, but he is so much more: a vigilante, a gentleman, a Christmas enthusiast, and an artist.
As I offer Misha a smile to soften the blow of rejection, my heart blooms, beating for someone else.
“I’m talking to someone. Sorry,” I say, and hand him back the jacket. My thoughts are already back in Vermont, with the man I rejected despite deep down knowing it to be a mistake. Oh, I have been so blind!
Disappointment washes over Misha’s face, but at least he’s not getting pushy, I have to give him that.
“Sure, but just know you can hit me up anytime. I’ll leave you my card. There are some serious predators out there.”
“Definitely. Carl always made sure I was careful,” I say, walking past him on my way inside. He smells nice. He looks nice. He is polite. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s clearly trying to get with me for the wrong reasons, I might just be interested in him. But while I'm technically single, my heart doesn’t feel that way, and as I step into the warmth of the smoking room, the longing for Nico’s arms around me feels like a lead blanket.
There hasn’t been a day, or even an hour when I didn’t randomly start thinking about him, and instead of relief, all I feel is an ever-growing emptiness, as if he’s left his knife inside me, and the wound refuses to close. There was such an endless void in his eyes when he told me he understood my choice, as if he wanted to say he was unlovable, when that’s so far from the truth.
I can’t run from my true feelings any longer.
Chapter 26
Nico
This has got tobe the saddest Christmas Eve I’ve ever experienced. Even worse than the first one after my grandpa’s death. I have to fake my smiles for the customers rushing around the Winter Emporium, but at least work keeps me busy and not mulling over what I could have done differently to gain Blake’s love.
The disappointing reality is that there’s probably nothing that would have saved our relationship. It was doomed from the moment I took off my mask and revealed myself to him for what I am. Blake could have found me exciting to fuck, sure, emotionally enticing,maybe. But not someone he’d want to spend his life with. I should have known my dreams of becoming someone special for him were always just a delusion.
I didn’t even feel like treating myself to a Christmas kill this year and instead punished myself with endlesshours of work at the shop. It’s something I usually enjoy, but given the circumstances, I know I’m doing it to avoid spending every waking hour worrying about Blake and how he’s coping with the massive change in his life. I wish I could be there to hold his hand through it all, but he doesn’t want me to, so I have to suck it up and move on.
In the last few days, I’ve even been toying with shutting down the whole Christmas Killer operation and locking away that part of me forever. How else will I ever find love? So those are my options, either live a lie with my partner, or stay alone and misunderstood.
The problem is that deep down, I know the itch will come back. I’m already more snappy, and I sulk in my apartment watching Christmas romcoms while entertaining myself by imagining ways in which the main characters could die. How long will I be able to stay away from my secret basement, my weapons, and the need to find a victim?
A hand closes on my shoulder, and Owen looks into my eyes, the pile of orders he brought from the stockroom resting behind the counter.
“Are you okay?” he asks, as if either of us has the time for coddling my feelings when the shop is bursting with Christmas Eve activity. As predicted, all the forgetful husbands who didn’t get their wives presents are either at the jewelry store or here. And that's on top of the usual clientele and those picking up baked goods and other food last minute. All our temps are rushing around, and even Adam, Owen’s boyfriend, is here, helping out so they can both drive off to visit his family as soon as the doors close.
I take a deep breath. “I guess I’m not, but don’t worry about it. It’s gonna pass. I just wish things would have worked out with Blake.” I can’t afford to be falling apartin the middle of the shop. I have to pull myself together, because no matter how much I love Christmas, right now the cheerful songs and bright colors remind me of everything I can’t have.
Owen hesitates. "Are you sure you don’t want to visit Adam’s family with us? I kinda talked to them ab—”
I shake my head and force myself to smile. “I appreciate that, really, but I’d rather get some rest at home. It’s been a… challenging month.”
My dark side, the one excited about cutting someone’s head off, spills in my heart like a drop of the blackest ink, making me ponder the option of abducting Blake. He will most likely be alone tomorrow, I know where he lives, and I could talk my way into his proximity. Just imagining his unconscious weight in my arms gives me a shiver of pleasure, but none of that would satisfy my true cravings. Even if I kept him in my basement for the rest of our days, I can’t make him love me. If anything, his presence would be torturous forme, and he’d grow to resent me, causing both of us pain.
At the end of the day, I don’t want him in a cage. I’d rather he was free and happy, even if his future doesn’t include—
The sharp clang of a bell makes me snap my head up, and as the customer on the other side of the counter turns back to also see what this is about, I spot a familiar face in the middle of the shop.
Everything stills, and as Blake lowers a bell he must have borrowed from the Santa charity collector working outside, my heart thumps, accelerating. Last time I saw him, he was wearing formal clothes that showcased his body shape, but with his curls in a mess and a flush on his pale face, he’s somehow even more handsome than I remember.
More confusingly though, I recognize the sweater he’s wearing, and my heart stops pumping altogether.
It’s the one I made. Red, oversized, adorned with crocheted Christmas treats like gift boxes and Santa faces, as well as plastic candy canes. The big white words in the middle spell outOh what fun!
And Blake is wearing it. In public, not just discreetly bringing it to me in a bag so no one sees what he called the most hideous thing he’s ever seen. I’m not sure what to make of this, but my feet slowly guide me to him like he’s a snowflake I have to catch with my mittens.
Most of the customers haven’t yet gotten the memo that something’s going on, but when the music dies, I can sense all eyes on me and the scared boy with the bell in one hand and a gift-wrapped box in the other.
I can’t believe he’s here. Shouldn’t he be in New York, skating by the Rockefeller Center? Or back at his home, far away from the Christmas cheer he claimed to detest? Instead, he’s at the very center of it, and when I come closer, about to ask him to follow me to the backrooms, he opens his mouth and… sings.
Disbelief makes my stomach drop, but I stay still, meeting his eyes as his voice trembles. He’s an average singer, and the tune he chose is Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’, which always kinda makes me tear up, even though it’s so cheerful. Hearing the words from his mouth, in the odd silence of the store filled with people melts the ice that’s grown around my heart since our parting.
