The needle poked and prodded at her fingers as she knitted. Her clumsiness had led her to prick herself at least twice by the blunt needle. She was creating a knitted beanie of sorts; an odd gift. But, with the snow falling heavily, it seemed rather appropriate. However, the weaving yarn seemed to be much more work than she had previously anticipated.
It was a bit odd, as stated. But, she wanted to give him a gift that meant something. She never saw herself as the romantic in their relationship, but she figured that this was the least she could do, seeing as this was their first Christmas together. Her younger self would have laughed at the sight of this. But, she hardly cared as she crouched by the fireplace and knitted.
It seemed as though her cold, hard exterior melted away as she wove the light orange yarn. Her mouth, which was constantly twisted into a grimace, was now shaking slightly as she willed her clumsy fingers to move gracefully to be able to create a nice pattern on the beanie. She didn't actually know what she was doing (a constant in her life), but she tried. The beanie wasn't in the best condition; there were bald spots and wrinkles through out the expanse of it. But she figured her significant other (she felt an odd shiver run through her body as the thought went through her mind) knew how ugraceful she was and would appreciate how much effort she out into it (she had started early November.)
She always wondered why he picked her. He was the perfect boy; blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, athletic, charming and very nice. She was the exact opposite: dark hair, dark eyes, lazy, a bit on the short side, and terribly, terribly rude. Just like her hands, her mouth was ungraceful. She was extremely standoffish.
He was coming by later, for their early gift giving. He was coming over and she wasn't finished.
A month ago, when she had started knitting, her mother had tried to intervene; trying instead to persuade her into purchasing a store bought one, or rather, to let her take over the process. But, as stubborn as she is, she had declined, insisting that the gift must be from her heart; not her mother's or the store clerk's. After much procrastination, she had started her knitting. Now here she was, a few days before Christmas, knitting her heart out for a boy. Never though this would happen, her mother had said.
Now, she was finished. She held up her handiwork for the world (the inhabitants of the empty living room) to see. Oh no, she thought, it's too small.
The beanie was small. Now she felt guilty. Her perfectly amazing boyfriend deserved a perfectly amazing gift. And she, being her stupid, stubborn self, insisted on producing a handmade gift. Now she had absolutely no time to go out and buy a new one. She was so selfish! So utterly stupid and stubborn and selfish and- ding dong!, rang the doorbell.
No, no, no!
She stuffed her materials on the table, and opened the door. He gave her a pearly smile as he stood in the doorway. His nose was bright red; redder than the illuminated nose of the Rudolf stand up that her neighbors had put up recently. His cheeks were flushed from the cold temperature. His hair looked like a dollop of yellow feathers resting atop his head.
"Hey" he said, rubbing his hands together, trying to create warmth. "Are you gonna invite me in, or what?" he joked.
"Haha!" she laughed a little too loud. She cleared her throat, just staring at him for a while before she remembered the freezing temperature outside. She held the door open for him. He gave her a kiss on the cheek before hanging his jacket up on the coat hanger and walking over to the fireplace. He held his arms out, and let out a breath. Then, he walked over to the couch and sat down.
His eyes landed on the small beanie lying on the table, and then lightened in confusion. "I didn't know you knit," he said. "Who's it for?"
"Buttercup." She replied quickly, maybe too quickly. Just then, Buttercup strolled by, hissing at her before disappearing into the kitchen.
"You're knitting for Buttercup?" he said, amused.
"Its winter! Wouldn't want her getting cold." She replied, moving to sit beside him on the couch. She actually didn't care about Buttercup. In fact, when she was younger, she had tried to drown the feline in the tub.
He propped one leg on the couch, carefully removing his shoe before he did so. She did the same, without removing her shoe.
He laid his arm on the top of the couch, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. The faint smell of his musky perfume mixed with roasted chestnuts radiated off of him. The fire cast dancing shadows across his face, making it look as if there was a story playing about his features. The room was dimly lit. The warm air felt suffocating, but at the same time, it felt relieving. She wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
"Alright, then" he laughed. His deep voice filled the room. His blue orbs stared at her, paralized her. "You first."
"Actually, you can go first. I know how excited you were about this." She tried to procrastinate.
"Yeah, but so were you. Besides, ladies first." Her heartbeat quickened, and her hands shook.
"Um, okay then…" she started. "I actually left your gift upstairs, so I'll go get it." She got up from the couch. She felt so bad, so, so guilty.
Katniss ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, and ran up to her bedroom. The girl tried looking for a gift, a nice substitute. She panicked. She searched her room, throwing clothes on the floor in the process. She turned her room upside down. Just as she was going to go back and explain herself, she saw something resting atop her mother's table.
She grabbed it and stuffed it into a paper bag, rushing downstairs.
His eyes brightened as he saw her return. Buttercup was now nuzzled on his lap, purring softly. She picked up her feline and threw her off the couch, landing with a rough meow. Katniss sat in her old position on the couch.
"Here you go," she said carefully, "Merry Christmas." She handed him the bag.
He opened the bag. Her heart raced. He eyed the sight before him. He reached his hands into the bag and pulled out the gift.
A candle. To be more specific, it was a Raspberry Peach Macaroon Scented Candle.
He stared at the gift in shock.
"What? You don't like it? I'm sorry, I know its stupid but I-" He brought out the gift he got for her; A Raspberry Peach Macaroon Scented Candle.
They both stared at each other in amusement and shock before they burst out laughing. She laughed so hard her stomach hurt, and her cheeks ached. He bellowed out so loud, he awoke Buttercup from her slumber. Tears were already falling from his eyes.
When they began to calm down, she got up from the couch, and walked over to the table. She picked up the beanie from the table and presented it to him.
"This was supposed to be yours, not Buttercups's. I thought it would be too small, shoddy, really. But, its blood, sweat, and tears." She explained.
He looked up at her in wonder. "Really?" he joked. "I was beginning to be jealous of Buttercup."
She rolled her eyes and sat back down in front of him. He took the beanie from her hands, attempting to pry it onto his head. The beanie was a good fit. A bit short though, but the muted orange and peach complimented his features nicely. His hair poked out of the holes, but he kept it on.
"Thank you," He whispered to her as he pulled her in for a toe curling kiss, which melted her insides, and warmed her soul. "Best gift ever."