This Christmas was turning out to be a lot more pleasurable than last year. He hadn't passed out from too much alcohol, nor had he been sick all over his bathroom floor. He'd actually eaten and quite a lot at that, and had got a kiss under the mistletoe. He'd given and taken of gifts. He'd had something to be happy about. His lover was with him.
It had actually snowed throughout Christmas Eve, and well into Boxing Day, and the winter snap had allowed the snow to remain. So, being the little kid he really is, he dragged his boyfriend out to the park to make snow angels, toss a few snowballs and create snow men, fashioned after each other.
When their rosy cheeks and shaking hands had been too much to bear, they had returned back to their flat to warm up in the shower before crashing out in front of the telly with the boxset of Prison Break that John Paul had not-so-subtly asked for.
On Christmas Day, after they each had their second helpings of Turkey and all the trimmings, the time had come to call their families (or, in Craig's case, the only person he was actually still in contact with) and catch up on their own events over the festive day.
New Years arrived and John Paul had dragged Craig out to their local to indulge themselves in the New Year spirit. Having shared their first kiss of the New Year once the church bells rang out for midnight, they got caught up in the celebrations around them and only when the bar man said that if they didn't separate their limbs and get out, he'd shove them out.
Wandering home, arms draped around each others waists, they stopped at bench over looking their park to watch the display of colours from the fireworks that were launching around them.
Snuggling into John Paul's chest, feeling his boyfriends arm wrap around his shoulder, Craig sighed with contentment.
Yeah, definitely a better Christmas than 2007.
