Decemberween was only two weeks away. The day of giving, cheer, friendship, festive spirit and miracles. Two long, cold weeks away. It had only just begun snowing for the first time that December, bringing both comfort and concern to a lone figure trudging along the frost-dusted field of the Free Country town.

He shivered in the cold, his blue shirt providing very little warmth. On the front of the shirt in white Bauhaus93 font was his non-punctuated name, 'homsar'. Homsar stopped and looked around, listening out for anyone. All was silent, except for the sombre whistling of the bitter winter wind that chilled his pale white skin. Over in the distance he could faintly see maybe one or two townsfolk doing some early Decemberween shopping for their friends and family, but it was likely that everyone else had retreated to the warm cosiness of their homes.

Homsar was very weak from the hunger that had pained him for many days now, and his vision was blurring slightly. As he took off his yellow bowler hat and shook the settled snowflakes off it, he considered making his way over to where the people were buying gifts, in hopes of getting some kind of food or sympathy, but the chances were low as Homsar had not a single coin of money to spend, and barely enough energy to pull himself what seemed like a long, long distance away.

Homsar could barely even remember how he had gotten into such a low situation. He did remember some time ago returning to his domicile, a humble cave surrounded by stone structures that defied and distorted physics, in ruins. Before he knew it, he had found himself ill and starving. Being such a poor communicator didn't help. How was Homsar supposed to plead for help when he could barely communicate rational sentences? How it happened wasn't important. What really mattered to Homsar was finding some sort of support before it was too late, so maybe, just maybe, he could live to see another Decemberween.

He wandered around for the longest time. Chilling weather and the amount of icy flakes that was gathering on the ground was killing Homsar, quite literally. He hadn't eaten in the longest time and as Decemberween was approaching, he still had no home or food of any kind. The snow was sticking to his feet and he had lost a lot of weight. He didn't even know how long he had been wandering, and it seemed the closer Decemberween got, the further away his Decemberween miracle drifted.

No-one had bothered to look for Homsar, because in truth, no-one really cared much for him. Well, Strong Sad would have cared, but he didn't find it unusual for Homsar to not be seen around for several weeks. No-one would ever expect Homsar of all to be in any sort of distress or despair just because of how odd and content he usually was. He would always appear at the strangest moments, doing and saying the strangest of things, even defying physics at will. They just thought of him as some sort of indestructible enigmatic being.

Days passed until Decemberween was a mere week away. The winter days were short and the nights were long. By every sunset, Homsar had lay down in the snowy bushes, just waiting desperately for another failed day to end in the hopes of the next day being better, but they had only gotten worse. He only got colder, frailer and bonier. By this day, Homsar worried about falling asleep unlike the previous days in which he'd welcomed it, as now he was afraid that if he fell asleep he would not wake up again to see a new day.

"AaaAAAaaah..." Homsar called out in a pained voice, standing almost knee-high in snow, his short, thin legs shaking. "...AAAaAAaaaAAAh!"

Homsar screamed and wailed, but it seemed that no-one heard him. Then again, no-one was outside because of the snow, and with more on the way it seemed that Homsar's chances of surviving were diminishing by the minute. As time went by, more snow piled up and Homsar found himself able to move less and less before collapsing from exhaustion each day.

By the day before Decemberween, he had stopped moving around town at all, but at least the snowing had ceased for now. He knew it wouldn't last, which it didn't. When Decemberween finally came it started to snow again, not heavily, but it snowed all the same.

Homsar collapsed onto his back with bittersweet relief. He had made it to Decemberween. For a while he had believed he wouldn't make it, but somehow he did. By now he was feeling numb from the weakness and the cold, and as he stared up into the sky, Homsar could've sworn the sky was spinning, rippling and distorting. Just like back at his old home when it was still standing.

The lightly falling snow kept falling throughout the day, slowly forming a layer over Homsar, who was barely producing enough body heat to melt it off fast enough for it to not pile up. Occasionally he'd muster up enough energy to shake it off, but now that it was Decemberween, it began to stop mattering if the ice gathered up and formed a cold, cold blanket over Homsar's emaciated body. He had made it to Decemberween, just as he wanted, and now it was just time to accept that it was over. No-one would come to save him now. Maybe Strong Sad would have, had he not been so heartlessly locked in the bathtub by his brothers like he was every other Decemberween.

The sun had set some time ago and the sky had turned a dark shade of purple either comforting or sorrowful, depending on who set eyes upon it. Homsar weakly lifted his head off the snowy ground when a flicker of light on the horizon caught his eye. He squinted a little and tried to focus on the light through his hazy vision. It could have just been a peculiar hallucination, but the little light in the distance almost looked like a lit Decemberween tree. And how Homsar wished he could've been there with the others, standing in good health and bliss to witness it up close.

As the ice continued to pile, Homsar eventually lost all reason and energy to move at all. He was ready to just give up. He was growing tired, so very tired. Fearing yet ready to accept that this would be the night he would finally die, he said one last thing in a weak, shaky voice.

"AaAaAaAaAaAa'm your death door neighhhhhbooorrr..."

With this last phrase, Homsar closed his eyes and let sleep take him. When all around there was silence, the wind gently blew the snow, covering him a little more. Not long later had the rest of the town began heading back to the security of their homes, with little thought in mind for those gravely less fortunate.

The athlete Homestar Runner trudged home feeling annoyed. Marzipan had just spent the whole day trying to save that old creep, Senor Cardgage, who wasn't even really dying anyway. She had her heart in the right place, but everyone should have known by now not to take anything that guy said too seriously.

"I can't believe we did all that and no one was even dyi-" grumbled Homestar before tripping over Homsar, "OW!"

Homsar's weary little beady eyes snapped open as something kicked him hard in his side, causing him to almost roll over. His head was spinning so much that he didn't even let out one of his unmistakable wails, only stared up into the dark sky with his mouth agape in shock, breathing quickly and shivering in the torturous cold that numbed his legs.

"Stupid Decemberween tripping-rocks, always making me trip over..." Homestar muttered, pulling himself up off the ground and shaking the snow off himself.

Homsar was still incredibly dazed and could barely react. His vision was still blurred, but he could make out a tall red-shirted figure standing beside him. It was Homestar Runner! But would Homestar Runner really care enough to give some kind of a miracle to a poor, hopeless little Homsar, who might as well have been dead anyway?

"What kind of a rock is just there in the field like... What the..." Homestar murmured to himself as he turned around to face whatever he had just tripped over. His eyes widened when he recognised the snow-covered figure at his feet. "H-Homsar...?"

Homsar just gazed back up at him with drowsy little eyes. He had neither the energy nor the will to speak any more. Homestar just stood there for a moment staring at the skeletally thin and almost lifeless body of Homsar. Homsar was genuinely dying. After a minute or so, Homestar gently lifted Homsar up out of the snow.

"Don't worry buddy... I'll get you to a hospital." Homestar said in an uncharacteristically solemn tone, before he headed towards the hospital.

Homsar could hardly believe it. For a moment he thought his dying mind was having one last hallucination before passing away, but soon he realised it was reality! It was indeed a Decemberween miracle! Homsar didn't know if his survival was certain at this point, but it warmed his heart to know that Homestar had stepped in to help, especially considering how the two were never close and rarely had any decent interaction with each other.

As he walked, Homestar looked back and forth for anyone else. No-one was around; illumination glowing through windows was the only indication that the town wasn't deserted. It was up to him and him alone to get Homsar to safety. Homestar wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box, but he was just doing what he knew was right. If Marzipan had seen Homsar like this she would've done the same thing for sure. He looked down at Homsar, who was disturbingly light in his telekinetic grasp, to make sure he was still alive. Homsar just stared back up at Homestar with an expression of disbelief, relief, and incredible gratitude on his weak, gaunt face

"I'm sorry you had to spend your Decemberween like this." Homestar said in a guilty tone, even though this was neither his fault nor anyone else's. "If I had known I would've had Marzipan bring you some bean sprouts or something."

Homsar smiled up at Homestar slightly. He was touched. Homestar was being so nice to him. Homestar continued to trudge along through the snow. He knew the hospital was only fifteen minutes away, but he was becoming more and more uncertain if Homsar would last that long.

"Don't slip away now, little guy..." Homestar said quietly in a worried tone. "Just hang in there..."

Homsar's greying eyelids were fluttering and drooping shut. His breath was growing lighter and slower.

"Don't slip away! Hang in there!" Homestar said a little more panicked, speeding up his pace a little. "You can make it!"

As Homestar continued telling phrases of encouragement and reassurance to Homsar, Homsar began succumbing to the cold again. Homestar's voice grew quieter and more muffled as the world seemed to darken and die out.

Just how many times was the little bowler-hat-wearing fellow going to shuffle out of death's reach?

Homsar opened his eyes again, but now, instead of being in the dark and cold, he was somewhere warm, soft, and brightly lit. Squinting, he could have sworn he was finally dead, until he saw Homestar standing beside him trying to hide tear-stained eyes. Toys, clothes, tools, appliances, videogames, movies, it didn't matter what anyone else got for Decemberween; no-one got a better gift than poor little Homsar.