I glance down at my jumper, black but scattered with silvery, seasonally appropriate snowflakes, and nod to myself. Sam will hate it.

I raise my fist and knock quickly on his door, leaning against the frame easily. I wait for a few moments before frowning, knocking again but more tentatively this time.

"I'm not coming out."

Sam's voice is muffled but definitive. I laugh.

"Come on! It can't be that bad, I picked it for a reason." I say, chuckling under my breath at his muffled groans.

"Yeah, to torture me!" He responds adamantly and I shake my head pointlessly.

"I have good taste, just let me see." I insist, waiting a moment before his door creaks open. His face is void of any happiness, glaring at me with distaste. I can't help myself, my lips twitching up of their own accord as I take in his appearance.

The deep green jumper looks amazing on him, as I knew it would, although the pattern makes him appear to be wearing an elf costume, which combined with his loose curls, makes him look even more boyishly charming.

"You look fine." I state, nodding in approval and Sam rolls his eyes.

"How come you got the cool one? You look great." He whines, his eyes widening as his gaze travels over my own outfit.

"You pull off green better, besides I have a reputation to uphold." I say, shrugging and Sam scoffs.

"Yeah, the antisocial, lanky shadow in the corner rep." He mutters and I nod.

"Exactly. You ready to go, or you wanna complain some more?" I ask, glancing at my watch and Sam huffs but reluctantly joins my side. I know the only reason he's wearing the ridiculous jumper is for me and I grin at the thought.

"So, I thought we'd hit the Christmas market first, get some festive treats and then we can go to the ice-rink because they have free entry for people wearing Christmas jumpers..." I say, tugging at his sweater lightly.

"And then we'll come back to mine and bake candy-cane shaped cookies and listen to Mariah Carey on repeat." I finish, flourishing my hands as Sam gapes at me.

"No, no way." He mutters, turning around and making a break for it. I grasp the back of his jumper and tug him along.

"Think of this as pay-back for all the years you made me do this stuff on my own." I say happily and Sam grumbles but doesn't outwardly protest again.

The streets are dimly lit with the decorative street-lights, the trees twined with hundreds of fairy lights, all sparkling softly. Little market stalls are set up all over the place and old-school carols are playing softly over an ancient looking speaker system. The air is warm with the scent of cinnamon and chestnuts, a happy murmur filling any silence and I smile to myself.

I glance over at Sam hopefully; however he doesn't seem too impressed.

I tug him along and he pays for hot chocolates, candy canes and ridiculously shaped cookies, all the while sporting a distasteful frown. Eventually I give up on trying to inspire a festive mood in him and feel my shoulders slump slightly. I try not to let my disappointment dampen my own festive spirit, but I had wanted Sam to enjoy this holiday with me for a change.

Christmas is awful when you're alone, and I had hoped that this year might be different.

I wander over to a tacky looking stall and peer at the ornaments hung up, grinning at the little hockey stick glass ornament. I carefully pluck it off of the mini purple tree and smile when I find a little glass music note to match. I hand them to the woman in charge delicately, who has been watching me curiously, and hand over the money in exchange as she wraps them.

I glance over my shoulder at Sam, who still looks underwhelmed, and sigh heavily.

"Don't worry about him, love. He'll come around eventually." The woman in front of me states, quite suddenly and I gaze at her, perplexed. I hadn't known that Sam's distaste for Christmas had been so obvious.

"Thank you." I murmur, offering her a shy smile and she beams in return.

"Sam?" I call and his head whips around, a hopeful expression on his face.

"You want to head over to the ice rink now?" I ask and he groans again. I link my arm through his and tug him along, knowing he'll secretly enjoy a skate, even if obnoxious Christmas tunes are playing.

We queue up and enter quickly, not needing to hire skates as we both have our own. I stash our things in our personal lockers and we head out. Sam's frown doesn't lessen in the slightest as we move from the floor to the ice and I can't help but feel even more disappointed.

Wizzard is playing over the sound system and I hum along merrily, skating backwards leisurely whilst Sam doesn't bother even uncrossing his arms. I huff and turn around, finally growing impatient with his grumpy pout. I know he dislikes the holidays and for good reason too, but I thought he'd at least try to have a good time. Apparently not.

I spot Tristan in the crowd and his eyes light up in recognition as I skate over.

"Hey, how are you?" I ask easily. I have found out that I quite like Tristan over the last few weeks, bonding over how difficult a job it is to defend Sam in hockey and I found conversing with him came naturally.

"Not bad, still sore from last week's practice. How you managed to avoid that tackle, I will never know." He says, rubbing his back absently and I laugh.

"Just good luck I suppose." I mutter and he agrees.

"Who're you here with? Sam, I presume?" He asks and I nod, somewhat glumly.

Tristan laughs at my expression and raises an eyebrow.

"Sam hates Christmas, he's been sulking all day." I mumble and Tristan only looks sympathetic.

"He'll get over it, the hours almost over anyway, the next lot will be coming on soon." He says unenthusiastically and I only then notice his high-vis jacket.

"You're supervising?" I ask incredulously and he sighs in defeat, nodding miserably.

"This conversation has been the highlight of my day, and I still have another 4 hours to go." He says groaning and I pat him on the shoulder, somewhat awkwardly.

"Hang in there, you'll get through." I say, chuckling at his situation and he nods, shooing me away as new skaters line up to come onto the rink.

I wave him goodbye and search for Sam, who's already off the ice. His face looks thunderous and I feel slightly guilty for abandoning him. I remove my skates and join him at our locker, grabbing our stuff and waiting for him to join me.

He looks up and storms out of the rink. I follow him swiftly; my previous smile being dragged down further by the second.

We walk in uncomfortable silence and when we reach our dorms I sigh, knowing I owe him an apology.

"Sam, I'm sorry for forcing you into going with me today, I really did think you'd enjoy it." I state, looking down at his face. His frown lessens slightly but otherwise his expression remains the same and I swallow uneasily.

"It's fine." He mutters, although that certainly means it's not fine and I inwardly groan. I hold the door open and he makes his way to his room, unlocking the door quickly and closing it behind him with the same symbolic swiftness.

My presence at the moment is seemingly unwelcome, and I try not to let it bother me, knowing he'll come around eventually.

I slowly traipse upstairs, holding my bag of ornaments limply in my hand as I open my door. I place them carefully on the sofa and glance up at the tree that I had bought specially. A surprise for Sam, in the hopes that we could decorate it.

I glance over it sadly, Sam's presents already neatly wrapped below it. I can't bring myself to decorate it alone, feeling as though the act would be far too depressing. I can't bring myself to throw it out either, so I turn and leave it, undressed and lacking character.

I crawl beneath my covers and for the first time in my life, wish the holiday season were over.

_

Beyond the window a vicious wind whistles through the trees, a scattering of raindrops hitting the window panes simultaneously and depriving me of the gentle, soothing song that they usually play me.

The storm is bleak and the clouds are dark, encouraging me further into my nest of warmth and solitude. This weather has always been my favourite, although I haven't the faintest idea why.

The Christmas break is passing slowly, although I'm grateful for it. It seemed Sam was in need of the break, and due to our classes being postponed till the new year, it gives him the perfect opportunity for just that. I hold no resentment, only a little loneliness.

The holidays have never been particularly joyous for either of us. It was always just my dad and I at home after my mother passed away, when I was eleven, and he never felt up to celebrating the same way again, feeling incomplete without her.

I don't blame him; the house always did seem emptier.

Sam's mother had raised him and his twin sisters alone, although she, unlike my father, made an effort every year for Sam and the girls. They did all the typical family stuff and their entire extended family would join them each year, just as it should be in my eyes. Although Sam still despises Christmas. It reminds him of his dad; who had walked out when the girls were born.

It's unfair for Sam, but that's how life is I suppose.

I gaze over at the tree that's still stood in the corner, looking bitterly pathetic with only two ornaments on it. I had decided to put on the two that I had bought Sam and I, after deciding that the tinsel I had gotten looked altogether far too tacky for my taste.

I huff and look away again, not really in the mood to do anything.

There's a soft tapping and I sink my head further into my pillows, glancing out the window to try and decipher what's making the tapping sound. Everything is quiet for a moment before it comes again, louder this time and I physically restrain myself from slamming my head against the floor.

It's someone at the door. I'm an idiot.

I scramble to my feet and jog over, leaving the blankets in my wake as I swing the door open. My faint smile deflates immediately as soon as I recognise the face behind the door as Miles. He has an anxious, tentative expression which lights up a bit as soon as he sees me. Horror washes through me as I every muscle tenses.

Without hesitating I swing the door closed. I shake my head, shaking my hands slightly.

He's being creepy and he had it coming. I walk away from the door, pleased that there's no second attempt at gaining my attention.

I slump down on my sofa, looking down and picking at my second favourite pair of sweatpants. Sam still has my favourite pair.

I hadn't realised how much I had hoped that it was Sam at the door and I feel stupidly pathetic at the sudden comprehension. I get up and tug on a clean t-shirt, rubbing my hand through my hair. It's getting quite long now and it hangs into my eyes, not that I really mind.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I look at it listlessly. It's a message from Tristan and I open it quickly.

I frown and type out a quick response, unsure as to what he's talking about.

I get a response almost immediately.

I make a strange, guttural noise of frustration and tug on the too-long strands of my hair. I decide to lie. I know I crossed a bit of a line with Sam, but this is just petty.

Yeah, no he did. I just forgot. How far through are you?

I type out and send, sighing and glancing at my pre-packed hockey bag, wondering if it's worth heading down there. My phone vibrates and I glance down eagerly.

I smile slightly at that, knowing it's no easy feat. He must be exhausted defending Sam alone. Looking at my hockey bag again, I feel immensely guilty for missing practice and decide that I might as well go, even if it's just for some shooting practice later.

I grab my clean jersey and stuff it into my bag, pull on my trainers and grab my keys and headphones before heading out. I cringe at the sight of Miles, who is sat in the corridor but don't bother waiting around to hear what he has to say. I don't want to lead him on and honestly, I just don't know what to say.

I jog down the stairs, away from Miles and stuff my headphones into my ears.

The ice rink isn't far and I can be there in 10 minutes. I curse my own bad memory for not bothering to bring a coat, the storm outside still blowing full force. My hair is plastered to the side of my head and I shake it out, sweeping it back.

A very sudden jolt of pain blooms through my back and I gasp, struggling to inhale again. Now is really not the best time for Sam to be getting tackled, but I know he's a big boy, he can handle it. Besides, it's not as if he's actually in any pain. After a gruelling 5 minutes of struggling to breathe, it eases slightly and I pick up my pace.

I glance at my watch and figure that it's taking me slightly longer than usual to get there. Practice will surely be over by now and I'm glad. I spot the rink in the distance and jog the rest of the way, keen to speak to Tristan before he leaves. He'll be able to tell me just what happened to Sam.

I place my hand on the door but hesitate, feeling vaguely anxious. It feels as though the sensation isn't mine, but it can't be Sam's. I've only ever been able to feel his physical pain, not his emotions. Perhaps it's instinct, but if so, what is there to be afraid of?

A shooting pain suddenly emanates from the back of my skull and I push the door open firmly, more convinced of myself now. My lip begins to sting and I hear a faint groan from the locker room just as I feel a harsh blow to the stomach. I wobble slightly, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before shoving the door aside.

Sam's body is crumpled on the floor, his shirt missing and his eyes closed, presumably anticipating the next hit.

I slam the door closed behind me, fury blinding my common sense.

Sam has always said I have a nasty temper, but I have it under considerably more control than I did as a child. Although, there's always an exception.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I utter, not quite recognising my own voice.

My so called 'fellow team mates' glance uneasily at each other, although one seems a little cockier than the other two. I faintly recognise him as Jake, number 12.

"Here's the boyfriend, here to save the day." He drawls, glancing down at Sam who winces at the sound of his voice. I don't blame him, it's just as ugly as his appearance and, apparently, his personality too.

"Homophobia, how original." I remark, rolling my eyes. It doesn't bother me in the slightest what other people think.

Jake looks vaguely shocked by my response, or perhaps at the lack of denial. He pauses, unsure what to say next. I'm sure this isn't how this scene had played out in his head.

I walk over, dropping my bag casually. I move to where Sam is slumped behind them and kick my foot out behind me viciously, watching in delight as Jake's entire body crumbles beneath the weight of his body.

"You should really work on that left side, it's quite an obvious weakness and coach won't like it. Might even kick you off the team." I say lightly, bending down to peer at Sam's injuries. Nothing extensive, I think to myself as I brush my thumb just under his busted lip. His eyes are big and scared, conveying a thousand thoughts and feelings.

"Fuck you, Grey." Jake mutters acerbically and I choke on a laugh.

"Sorry, you're not my type." I mutter dryly and he grimaces.

I pull my arms beneath Sam's and hoist him up, helping him stand on his own. He leans heavily against the lockers, his breathing quite erratic. I leave him once he's stable and turn my attention to Jake, who's attempting to stand again. The other two are against the wall, looking as though they want nothing to do with this.

I pull at Jake's jersey, yanking him up as I push him against the lockers, my hand lightly encasing his neck.

"I don't want to see you lay another finger on Sam, got it? If I hear that you touched him, if I even hear his name fall from your mouth, I swear to god I will make every day of your life a living hell. I think I'll start with the rumours, they're always fun. Maybe something sexual, something gay, seeing as you seem to hate it so much. Then I'll get you kicked off the team, which in all honesty won't be difficult. Then I'll come after your friends, one by one until they're all too scared to come near you because you aren't worth their time. I won't stop until you are humiliated and alone, until you have absolutely nothing." I hiss, applying a hint of pressure to my grasp to emphasise my point.

"Or, you could leave us the fuck alone, because it's none of your business. You live your life, we'll live ours. You get to keep your...'reputation'." I murmur, his head nodding quickly and I smile maliciously.

"Good!" I state happily, releasing my grip around his neck.

"I'm glad that that's all cleared up, although I still have one slight problem." I say, scratching the back of my head in feigned confusion.

Jake glances at me as I punch him in the jaw, my own pain exploding through my knuckles, although it's definitely worth it. He falls to the floor from the impact and scrambles to get up.

"You shouldn't have touched him in the first place." I utter, watching them leave like mice, attempting to escape a snake.

I sigh, flexing my fingers in agitation as I pay attention to the throbbing in my lip. I turn back to Sam who looks tired and wary.

"You're scary as shit sometimes, Elias." Sam says and I roll my eyes, grabbing our bags and ordering an uber, knowing the walk isn't worthwhile. Sam pulls on his shirt, wincing as he delicately stretches out his side. I'm glad he's taking it slow, although if he could feel the pain he'd be going a lot slower still.

Thankfully, there's a car only a minute away and my phone alerts me that it'll be here any second.

"Come on, rides almost here." I murmur, nudging my head towards the door and Sam nods, moving towards the exit as I follow. The car rolls up and I open the door for him, making sure he's comfortable before moving round to the other side and sliding in.

Neither of us says a thing, the silence being filled with an unusual but catchy foreign song. I lean back heavily against the seat and before the song has finished, we're back at the dorms. I thank the driver and get out, opening Sam's door for him and lending him a hand to get out. He leans heavily against the railings as we walk up the steps and I walk ahead of him, opening his door for him and depositing his bag inside.

I go to his freezer and grab a handful of ice, wrapping it up carefully. He's slumped on his sofa, clutching a blanket to his chest like a child. I press the bundle of ice against his lip and he sighs, taking it from me and holding it there.

"You ok?" I ask, almost instinctually and Sam nods absently. The awkward atmosphere is choking me and I frown at the feeling. I had hoped that any animosity Sam held would be gone by now, but it isn't, that much is clear.