Sally and Jack are singing their final duet and I smile to myself, glancing down at Sam's softened features, relaxed and fluttering as his mind spirals into unconscious hallucinations. His jaw is slack, his mouth closed as he breathes softly through his nose. He looks exhausted, his head tilted and nestled against my neck whilst his feet are tucked up on the sofa next to him.

I close the laptop gently and glance at the time, glad that it hasn't passed midnight yet. Christmas eve is the only night I have a strict deadline for bed.

I turn my body slowly, supporting Sam's head as I shift out from beneath him. I'm not heartless enough to leave him on the sofa, not after having experienced the horror so many times, so I scoop him up as carefully as possible and slowly make my way to my room.

Everything is dark, bar the lights on the tree which seem to wink at me in the otherwise gloomy shadows of night. I navigate my room expertly and deposit Sam onto my bed, pulling the covers over him and fussing until I feel satisfied.

I glance back towards the sofa waiting for me and grimace in discontent. I don't want to wake up on Christmas morning with a sore neck and the back of an eighty year old. I dither a little longer, debating whether to suck it up or seek an alternative option.

Sam's hand encases mine suddenly and I look down sharply, not expecting his eyes to be open.

He doesn't say anything, but he tugs my hand lightly before shuffling over to the other side of my bed. I take this as an open invitation and happily accept, this being a far more comfortable alternative.

I pull off my shirt, remove my glasses and climb in, my eyes closing far easier than I expected and after what seems like only a second, they're opening again.

Only this time, sunshine is peeking through my curtains and a warm body is tucked beside me, even and soft breaths kissing the side of my neck. I look down at my best friend for an indescribable amount of time, processing the events of the night before. It all seems like a dream.

I eventually conclude that, even if this is a dream, I am enjoying it far too much to try and wake up just yet.

My eyes drift shut of their own accord and when I feel my conscious state of mind slowly returning to me the second time, I feel Sam's body shuffling around. Instead of drawing away, he pulls closer, his eyelashes fluttering against my collar bones. In my sleep-filled state, I don't think, merely do. I clumsily bring my hand up and gently tuck Sam's face more comfortably against my neck before patting it and letting my hand fall to my chest.

My fingers are gently fiddled with and I grumble quietly, interlocking my fingers with his just in order to stop him. He stays perfectly still after that and I smile contentedly.

The third time I am awoken, it's a little less gently.

I feel the air in my lungs escape me as a large weight lands on my chest and I groan. My eyes shoot open, looking around hazily and easily identifying the lump on my chest as Sam.

He's dressed in yet another one of my sweatshirts, his second favourite one of mine, a broad grin on his face.

"Good morning, Elias." He chirps and I glare at him, pinching his leg.

"Ow! I know you're not a morning person but jeez, I thought I'd be an exception." He says, mock insult colouring his tone and I roll my eyes.

"You are the only exception. Believe me, if you were anyone else I'd have eviscerated you by now." I mumble, nuzzling my face into my pillow. Sam laughs.

"Only you, 'lias, uses words like eviscerated, and at 10am too!" He exclaims and I groan even louder at the time.

"Come 'ere and be quiet." I murmur, eyes still closed as I tug him down and keep him there, content to slip back into sleep. Sam is silent and I smile victoriously.

"Nope." He whispers, bopping my nose with his finger and I open an eye to look at him.

"Why?" I demand, sounding more like a hurt child than an almost-twenty-year-old.

"It's Christmas! And I want to see your face when you open my presents so GET UP!" He exclaims, pulling the covers away from my chest and I sigh heavily.

I crack open my eyes and stare at the ceiling glumly, debating whether I prefer Grinch-Sam or Santa's little helper-Sam. The former, I decide, as the cold air hits my body.

I prop myself up and watch Sam, who is dithering around with what seems like a thousand-Watt smile and a permanent blush. He hands me my glasses happily as I sigh again, returning them to my face before I slide my legs over the side of the bed, pulling my hands through my hair briefly before standing. I don't bother with a shirt, instead choosing to follow Sam into the lounge.

He is stood in the centre of the room, glancing between the presents and the kitchen in a desperate attempt to sort out his priorities. I decide to make the decision for him.

I pass behind him, ruffling his scruffy curls as I go and get out eggs and bacon- which is a major luxury that I'm not entirely sure Sam deserves.

Hunting around in the cupboards, I find some two-day old pastries and decide to throw them in the oven too.

I busy myself in the kitchen, getting out plates, cutlery, jams and spreads and fruit juice. Sam leans on the counter, his expression telling me that he is eagerly awaiting his favourite meal of the day and somewhat lacking his normal patience.

I decide to scramble the eggs, as they're easy and quick and start on the bacon as I crack the eggs. I stir them robotically, my free hand slapping away Sam's arm as he swoops in to attempt to steal bacon from my pan.

"Don't! You'll burn your fingers." I say, lightly scolding and he pouts. I identify the least perilous task and hand him slices of bread, which he helpfully slides into the toaster. I plate up quickly and hand him the largest without even thinking. He takes it happily and merrily goes about his business, buttering bread and assembling a breakfast sandwich.

I slowly spread jam onto a croissant and take a bite, trying not to focus on the abomination in front of me. He finishes quickly and, more patiently this time, waits for me to eat. His leg is bobbing up and down beneath the table but his face is still glowing, a beaming smile stretching from ear to ear.

"Why're you so happy? It's creeping me out." I state, eyeing him curiously. He shrugs, not looking away. I decide to let it drop and clear away our plates as Sam bounds over to the tree like a child, marvelling over their very first Christmas.

I suppose Sam must be feeling something vaguely similar.

He sits cross-legged, rifling through presents until he reaches his, which were subsequently buried after last night's surprise delivery. He gazes over them thoughtfully, plucking out one which catches his eye. He handles it softly, as if it were about to break at any moment. He squeezes it gently, turning it in his hands and holding it to his ear, attempting to work out what it might possibly be.

I find that watching this is a gift in itself, one that he hadn't meant or intended to give me, but has given me nevertheless.

He slides a finger beneath the paper and tears it slightly, glancing up at me for confirmation. I nod swiftly and he tears the paper, more energetically this time.

He gazes at it for an immeasurable moment before he looks up, a frown encasing his face.

"This is your favourite jumper?" He says, clutching it tightly in his fists and I know I made the right choice.

"It's also your favourite thing of mine to steal and besides, it suits you." I tease, although my last comment is genuine and he nods, smiling widely to himself. He keeps it firmly placed in his lap, his fingers constantly moving back towards it, touching it and confirming its location. He moves on, discovering a scarf of very intricate design, a shirt, sweets and a lava lamp, which he has insisted are the 'coolest things on earth' since we were twelve.

His gifts are scattered around him, his face glowing in delight as he picks up his last wrapped present.

It's the little gift that I had picked up yesterday when I had breakfast with my dad and I'm not surprised he's left it till last. It's the smallest and the least interesting, but I think it'll be the one he'll like most.

He opens the box quickly, peering inside and gaping at the intricacy. Inside sits a little bracelet, woven from strands of leather, identical to the one I've worn on my wrist every day for years. Sam's admired it many times, although Sam's has a small metal plate on one side, which I had had engraved.

He picks it up gently, gazing at the word carved into it. The moment of comprehension is easily identifiable by the dark crimson blush which settles on his cheeks, dusting his face with warmth.

"Really Elias? 'Frequently'." He reads lowly, not looking up and I laugh.

"It's reversible." I add, watching him flip it over and roll his eyes.

"The other side says 'S & E'." He points out and I nod.

"How else are you supposed to remember who it's from?" I ask sincerely and he blushes again.

"People are going to take this the wrong way." He points out and I frown, not understanding why he cares so much for what others think.

"Perhaps, I can take it back if you want?" I suggest, watching his face morph into horror.

"No!" He states, holding it away from me, instead cradling it to his chest. He gazes at it for a moment longer before thrusting his wrist out towards me, holding the bracelet in the other. I take it from him and secure the clasp, noting that he had chosen the 'Frequently' side.

He withdraws his wrist and I gnaw anxiously on my bottom lip, not entirely convinced he likes it.

"Thank you, Elias. I love it, I love all of it." He says reassuringly, as if he can read my mind. I nod and Sam shuffles around, getting comfy in anticipation.

"Go on then!" He states, his eyes wide in excitement as he shoos me towards the remaining gifts with his hands. I huff but glance down anyway, my curiosity getting the better of me.

It's not like this is the first gift Sam has ever gotten me, but it does feel different for some reason.

I pick up a poorly wrapped triangular object, intrigued and peel back the paper. I smile faintly as I gaze at the picture within the unusual frame. The frame is gold and simple, but it's definitely my aesthetic and the photograph is of us, although neither of us look aware of the photo being taken. Sam is smiling widely, but surprisingly, so am I. My eyes are fixated on Sam, presumably laughing at something he'd said and I can't help but notice how our bodies seem to gravitate towards each other. I wonder if this is how I always look when I gaze at Sam.

Sam fidgets, glancing anxiously between me and the picture.

I smile broadly, for both of our benefits, and watch as he relaxes, returning my smile.

"Thank you, Sam." I murmur, looking at the picture one last time.

"Come on, if you take this long for all of them we'll be here till New Years!" He whines and I laugh, placing the frame beside me.

I go through his presents steadily, some thoughtful but most silly. I laugh loudly when I unwrap the Totoro sweatshirt and smile even more at the books of sheet music he had bought, some of which were blank, allowing me the opportunity to compose further pieces.

He had also bought me Where's Wally boxers, presumably bought at the same time as his last-minute costume. We had had to search for him for nearly twenty minutes before Sam spotted him in the arse-crack. My gifts also included a new wallet, a variety of films and books, a huge packet of assorted chocolates and a new pair of headphones.

I set my things down around me, finding myself feeling just as glow-ey as Sam looks.

"This is, I think, the happiest I've ever seen you." Sam says thoughtfully and I roll my eyes.

"Well, you would have had this pleasure long ago if you'd spent Christmas with me." I mutter and Sam frowns slightly but shrugs it off.

"Oh well, this can be the start of a tradition. Our first Christmas, the first of many." He says, lifting his mug of apple juice in a toast and I laugh but clank my mug against his all the same.

Sam settles against the sofa, snuggled in my old-now his new, favourite sweatshirt. He makes a face and squirms against the cushions.

"This sofa is so uncomfortable." He groans and I nod absently, cringing outwardly at the truth behind that statement.

"You have no idea." I grumble darkly and he raises an eyebrow.

"Where do you think I sleep when you stumble in drunk?" I ask and his eyes widen, horror passing through his expression as he experimentally lies down. He sits up only moments later, looking at the sofa in utmost revulsion.

"Are you fucking kidding?! Elias, please tell me you haven't been sleeping on this." He pleads, looking at me in dismay. I shrug.

He groans and pulls his hands over his face.

"I thought you just got up really early." He mutters, shaking his head to himself.

"I do, usually." I state and Sam stares at me in discontent.

"Well...I guess this might be a good time to give you your last present?" I suggest, watching both Sam and the sofa wearily, as if they'll tear into each other at any moment.

"Please tell me it's a new sofa." He murmurs, his head still in his hand although he looks faintly amused now.

"Not...quite." I say, pulling a key out of my pocket and placing it in his free, outstretched palm.

He looks at it for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion. I settle on the arm of the sofa, so that we're facing each other more levelly and watch his face.

"You're giving me the key to your dorm?" He asks dumbly and I shake my head.

"Not quite."

He stares blankly at me and I sigh.

"It's the key to our apartment, if you like it that is. I've already looked around, so all I really need is your opinion. If you like it, it's ours." I state simply, watching his face fall. His eyes are wide as saucers, fixed on the key in his hand.

"And if I don't like it?" He utters, his voice wobbling.

"Then I have three others for you to look at, but I think you'll like this one best." I say slowly, winking at him and he chokes on a laugh.

"And if I do like it?" He asks, meeting my eyes again.

"We can move in whenever we like." I answer. Sam takes another moment before blinding me with a smile worth a thousand suns. His arms fling around me and I catch him, holding him close as he laughs, almost hysterically. His excited slaps hit my arm in disbelief.

"I can't believe you, I can't. Oh my god, when can we see it? Now? Can we go now?" He asks quickly and I shrug.

"I don't see why not, it's not occupied and we have the spare key. I'll text the landlord." I murmur, Sam already flying to get changed.

It's not a secret that Sam hates living here. His dorm is damp and musty, a strange odour living in his closet and a consistent draft coming from seemingly nowhere. My dorm isn't much better and living away from here, in a place completely ours with Sam sounds like nothing short of heaven. I imagine he feels the same way.

"Ready?" He calls and I hum in confirmation. I decide I can't be bothered with contacts today, so I resign myself to being a little blurry for today, removing my glasses and placing them by my bed.

Sam reappears moments later, shoes on and his new scarf tucked neatly around his neck. However, his best accessory, by far, is his smile. He could wear it every day and I wouldn't tire of it. I don't think I ever will.