The festive season is never a really great time for me, given that I work retail and thus am subjected to the most stressful period of the year, but I'd be lying if I said I don't regularly look forward to Christmas. However, while I usually spend the holidays in the company of friends as well as family, celebrating and all such things, this year will be a bit different for me. This year, I'm going to be spending it cooped up at home, getting some very much needed alone time. You see, I have a bit of a problem I need to work out for myself. It used to be that I had "friends with benefits" relationships of sorts with multiple of my female friends that led to the occasional sexual encounter. Not to say I was getting pussy all the time, but I wasn't starved for it either. That is, until the encounters started getting less and less satisfying to me. Pretty sure it wasn't the fault of the girls, nothing seemed different about them, but I was just not getting the same kind of release from them.
At first, I wondered if I was already starting to fall into dysfunction territory or whatever, but I would soon get my answer as to what was going on. In fact, about a week after I first started having these thoughts, I went to the gym with one of my male friends. And when we got into the shower after the workout, my eyes were drawn to his naked body involuntarily... and boy, did I like what I saw. His muscular chest, six-pack abs, and good lord, I never thought I'd be describing another man's cock as "juicy" before that day, but his absolutely fit the bill. He noticed me staring, too, and that led to an awkward moment. While we both laughed it off, that moment completely shattered all my preconceptions of my sexuality.
Ever since then, things have been strange, and I've started being less open with my friends out of fear of rejection. There is a rational part inside of me saying that there's no way that my friends will just dump me like a hot potato if I were to tell them I think I'm gay, but anxiety is a bitch, I guess. Now, there's another thing about me. I learned at a pretty young age that Santa wasn't real, and my parents instilled some bootstraps bullshit in me that led to me writing a letter to Santa every year and just keeping it as a reminder for what to strive for in the coming year. It's something that I've kept on doing year after year, as it does help me straighten out just what I want out of life. And with my emotional turmoil, the letter I wrote this year was mostly just me pouring my heart out to an unfeeling piece of paper, culminating in a simple wish: "Someone I can show my true self to".
So with that, that brings me to today. It's the 25th of December, and I'm in the process of walking from my shitty little bedroom to my shitty little living room of my shitty little apartment. Without really thinking about it, I look at my shitty little Christmas tree. And it takes me about five seconds to really recognize just what I'm seeing: There's somebody sitting in front of my tree! For a moment, I close my eyes and open them again, expecting this person to just have been a figment of my imagination, but no, they're still there. To further confuse me, they don't look like a home intruder or anything, but rather... like one of Santa's elves. Shoulder-length blond hair, a quaint little green cap and red clothes, even the elven ears that I would've expected. Before I can say anything, what I can only now assume to be an actual elf smiles and waves at me. "Hi! Your present is here, Phil!" they yell cheerfully.
"Who... who the fuck are you?" is all I can muster in response.
The elf gets up and gets a bit closer. "I'm Albert, and I'm one of Santa's elves! You know, the big man always knew about those letters you were writing, even if you didn't send them, but he figured you'd be working towards everything on your own and didn't need his help. But this year, he thinks you need some extra help, so he sent me!"
That explains some things and yet throws up even more questions. I never told anybody about those letters, and I keep them in the attic, so actual magic is really the only way I can explain someone knowing about them, and that would also explain how this guy just got into my apartment on the 23rd floor like it was nothing. To my surprise, I find myself acclimating to this situation really quickly, though I might just be really desperate at the prospect of actually getting someone to help me out with my problems. "So... uh, Albert, is it? I don't want to be insulting, but that's not the name I would've expected for an elf." I reply, trying to make some idle small talk while I think about what's going on here.
Albert pouts a little, but the smile quickly returns to his face. "Well, we already went through all the elf-y names up there at the North Pole, and we don't reuse names, since it'd get confusing. So I got one of the boring ones. But never mind that, I'm here to help you out!"
"Wait... what? That's..." I can't even really respond, because that just has me floored.
Again, he looks a bit disappointed for a moment before recovering. "C'mon, Phil. I just told you we know about your letters! So of course we know about the one you wrote a week ago where you talked about all your confusions and desires. I'm here to let you show your true self to me! So c'mon, let's go to your bedroom!"
And before I can even reply, he's taken me by the hand and is now leading me to the bedroom. I don't even protest, I just stammer some unintelligible stuff and before I know it, we're both sitting on the bed. But now that we're sitting here, my hand in his, he's giving me a moment to collect my thoughts, to calm down. And looking at him... he's kinda cute. He's got that girly look going on that's adorable, and his smile is such a peppy one that makes you feel like he would make your life better just by being there with you. But as I think about what to say, he suddenly speaks again.
"Actually... maybe words isn't what we need here right now. Maybe you just need to let your feelings dictate what happens next, y'know?" he says, looking right into my eyes. And he's right. Without another word being said,