It's been five days. Five whole days since Robbie's last nap. Five, agonising days he's been fully awake, wide-eyed and neck aching from crouching for the past twenty hours he's just lying on his chair. His back are tense, his eyes are aching, he's so cranky he smashed at least two innocent contraptions that he just invented near his vicinity.

He's had restless nights like this before but not like this. Robbie's mind is swirling and messy, more so than usual. The feeling of forgetting something is gnawing and nagging him again. But he can't quite put his finger on it.

His lair is cold and dark, especially at night. The only noise you can hear is the heater thrumming very softly and Robbie's own huffs of desperation, wanting nothing but for sleep to come. He thinks of the citizens of LazyTown, especially those brats, and how they must be sleeping soundly at their own homes, comfortable and warm and content. Ungrateful bastards.

He curses under his breath and shuts his eyes, ignoring the itchy feeling on his side, desperately trying to shut his mind off. After a minute of failed attempt, he yells, frustrated and stands up. Robbie walks around his lair, his unusually long limbs still numb from lying all day, doing absolutely nothing.

Deciding that walking is rigorous and tiring already, he sits on the cold floor and leans his back at one of his sophisticated machines, sighing and thinking miserably, 'I need help.'

Above the clouds, and in Sportacus' homey airship, the familiar sound of his crystal beeping jerks him awake. He sat upright, feeling energetic and entirely awake already, before exclaiming, "Someone's in trouble!"

Sportacus focuses on the image that his crystal conjures for him. As the vision becomes clearer and more vivid in his head, he can fully see Robbie Rotten, in his purple and red pyjamas, his head hanging limply on his side, sighing glumly. The hero winced in pity and wasted no time in tidying his bed up, figured he could just do it later and did a cartwheel, landing in front the door. He yells, 'Door!,' and immediately the ship complied, the door fell down and forms a platform. The gust of wind almost knocked his hat and goggles off but Sportacus with his flexibility and perception, catches it before it falls. The cool and chilly air makes his ears twitch but he steps into the platform without hesitation, bravely somersaulting down LazyTown. Before his feet touches the ground, he does a double flip and lands soundly to the ground.

Promptly, Sportacus proceeds to backflip his way behind the billboard where the renowned villain dwells. The hero does a full twist flip and loudly knocks on the steel door, which is sure to echo underground. Sportacus waited patiently for a response. When nothing came, he knocked again and called out, 'Robbie? Are you awake?'

Meanwhile underground, the villain grumbles. At first he thought he was hallucinating but there was definitely someone knocking, or more likely thumping at his door. ' Who in the heck is awake at this time beside me, anyway?' He groused and stood up, steadying his legs before lazily walking towards his viewfinder. He looked through the lens and saw a particular blue, extremely annoying athlete stomping his feet patiently and looking down at the door expectantly.

A flash of annoyance (and maybe curiosity, too) crossed the villain's face. "Now, what does this Sportacluck wants?" He questioned himself but decided that he was far too tired for any villainy or confrontation and decided to just leave the hero just standing there. Unfortunately, before he could do this, Sportacus already noticed the periscope peering at him. The blue-suited hero steps closer to the periscope, with a strangely innocent and inquisitive look, and started bombarding Robbie with questions. 'Robbie? Is that you? Are you in trouble? Do you think you could let me in?'

Robbie just rolls his eyes and huffs, something he's prone to do when the blue buffoon is around 'No,' he replied flatly.

'Why not? My crystal beeped and you asked for my help, didn't you? Are you sure you're okay?' The idiot closed the gap between him and the periscope and Robbie could see his bright blue, almost purple eyes. The villain jumps back comically, his face reddening. Having Sportapoop's face so close… is just surprising and frankly, disgusting! Eurgh!

Also, did he really just ask for that blue-suited fool for help? It seems unlikely. Perhaps it was his subconscious? He really couldn't blame himself, he is sleep-deprived after all.

'Yes. Go away!' Robbie yells at the his nemesis, crossing his arms. He swears he could almost hear the blue idiot smile.

'You know, Robbie, this hatch isn't really too hard to open. I could easily lift it off, so you might as well give me your permission.' Was he being smug? Robbie narrows his eyes, and realises that he's probably right. He grouches and cursed any gods for his grievances. 'Fine, do what you want!' He whined some more and went back to his orange chair, sitting down with a flourish, deep frown etched to his face. The villain hears the tell-tale sound of someone (in this case Sportacus) sliding through the chute. He sighs, and hears the hero land down, probably doing a flip in the process. Robbie rolls his eyes again.

Suddenly his surrounding was filled with Sportapoop. He sinks down to the chair and looked at his nemesis. He looked well-rested and pumped despite it being - wait, what time is it? He looks at the clock, which reads 5:17. He groans and glares at Sportacus. 'Well, what do you want?' He applied much venom and vile in his tone, but Sportacus just seems unfazed.

The hero just smiled at him softly. "I just want to make sure you're okay, Robbie,' he grins, which irritates Robbie more. It's a crime to be this optimistic! 'Now, what is it that you need help with?'

'Nothing.'

'Well, are you sure? My crystal says-'

'Maybe your crystal is malfunctioning.' Robbie replies crankily. Like hell, he was going to admit he actually asked the buffoon for help.

Sportadumb blinks. 'That's impossible. It hasn't been broken since-' he seems to have stopped himself from saying something. Robbie sits up and looks at him suspiciously. But the hero just shakes his head and returns that annoyingly happy smile.

'Just tell me what's wrong, Robbie. There's nothing to be ashamed of.' Sportacus says sincerely, looking at him with with ugh, kindness and compassion. ' I'm not ashamed!' he wants to retort but he knows it's just pointless. 'I can't sleep.' he mumbles dolefully.

Sportacus noticeable becomes at ease. 'Well, do you know the key to a good's night sleep, Robbie?' The villain just shrugs, making the hero smile fondly at him. 'It's milk! Especially warm milk!' He cartwheels his way towards Robbie's kitchen and grabbed milk, which is fortunately, not expired. He poured the contents into a tall glass, filling it all the way up, and put the glass inside the microwave.

'He better not be doing any flips in my kitchen,' Robbie mutters to himself after hearing the microwave being opened. He grumpily places his feet on the chair, hugging himself.

After the machine beeped, Sportacus walked, actually walked like normal human being, ( It was such a rare sight, Robbie just gaped at him.) and handed him the warm glass of milk. The hero gave a slight smile, encouraging him to drink it. The villain, as if accepting his defeat, sighed and drank the milk in one big gulp. Ignoring the slight burn on his tongue, he faces Sportacus who is looking at him expectantly.

'Well, you don't expect me to just fall asleep like that, do you?' He snapped, but immediately felt guilty. Sportaspud was only trying to help, he suppose. 'Sorry.'

'That's fine, Robbie! I understand that you're just cranky.' There he goes again with his sappy smile and crinkly eyes. Robbie groans inwardly. Can one suffocate from too much goodness? 'Though, that's very weird. A warm glass milk usually works for me when I'm having trouble sleeping.'

'Yeah, but not everyone has your great bod, Sportapoop.' he mumbles.

'What was that, Robbie?'

'Erm,' Robbie blushes. Curse his traitor mouth ! 'Nothing.'

Sportadump just looks at Robbie fondly, with those crinkly eyes and small smile again, making the villain duck his head, face still bright red.

'Hmm,' Sportacus continues to think of ways to help Robbie fall asleep. 'How about… I sing to you?'

Robbie sits upright and looks at the hero in the eyes, who stares back but with furrowed brows and his pointed moustache twitching. The villain raises his brow, more in bewilderment than in suspicion. '... why?'

'Well,' The hero seems to be jittery and nervous, stomping his foot zealously and scratching at his ears absentmindedly. 'Sometimes when the kids can't sleep, too, I sing to them!' He flashes him a grin, but it was instantly gone as he looks down. 'My momma used to sing to me all the time when I go to bed.'

The villain visibly softened. Sportacus never talks about his past, not even his family or friends. Not even to those kids of his. But to hear that from him, it's like Glanni is seeing him in a whole new image. He wasn't Sportacus, the town slightly above average hero. He was Sportacus, who had family and friends, who his mother sang to him as he sleep, who wasn't like him - a sad lonely man who can't manage to sleep on his own without asking for anyone's help. But no, he was just Robbie Rotten, town's local villain and undesirable number one.

'You better be a better singer than I am.' Robbie grumbles, returning to his lying position on his chair. Ignoring the anticipated thrum in his chest, he gets comfortable and primly hugs his knees close to his chest. Seconds pass, there is only silence. Like a cat, he peers at the hero who was staring at him with… longing? Robbie shakes his head. Wow, he really needs sleep.

'Well?' he mutters quietly. Sportacus seems to snap out of his thoughts and clears his throat, uncertainty seizing his body. He takes a deep breath and starts singing.

'Veistu hvað sagt er um menn

sem oft týna leið?

þeir sjá á jólunum ljós'

Robbie didn't know that Sportacus could speak another language. His voice is certainly something. It's smooth and baritone, but latched with something Robbie can't quite put a word to.

Something familiar.

' Veistu hvað sagt er um þann

sem oft stendur einn?'

Oh, that's right.

'Að hann á einhvern að um jólin'

Sad. That's the word.

'Ef það er satt

að svart verði hvítt

Og kalt verði hlýtt á jólakvöld.

þá getur það gerst

að þú gætir breyst

Og loks fundið frið um jólin'

'What could be that stupid elf be sad about?' was the question Robbie asked himself when he felt his eyes flutter close, a yawn escaping his lips. He leans into something warm and solid. A small smile breaks out on his face, as he snuggles closer to it contently.

Meanwhile, Sportacus just stares at the sleeping man clinging tightly at him. As he continues his song, he feels his eyes burn. He winced the tears away and leans closer to the man, fighting the urge to touch his face like a creepy person. For now, he is content with this.

'þá heyri ég hljóm

Sem fyllir upp tóm'

Sportacus shudders, his bottom lip trembling. As he closes his eyes, he opens his mouth to finish the song but was interrupted by the sound of Robbie's voice. 'Umjólin…' Sportacus freezes. 'Íþró?'

Sportacus' face was engraved with genuine sadness as he took Robbie's hand. 'Já, Glanni, ég er hérna,' the elf closes his eyes, a sad smile schooling his face as he wills for sleep to come. 'Góða nótta.'