Vampir smiled, taking in a deep breath of the cool morning air. His Gothic 'lover' (since the words 'boy friend' are too conformist) stumbled out of the minivan behind him, barely awake. They had driven almost an hour to this god-forsaken farm… all in the name of a tree.

"Well, we should pick one out quickly, I've got the saw." The eldest of the two said cheerfully, holding the saw blade up, to emphasis his point. The Red Goth nodded solemnly, eyes slowly searching the seemingly endless fields for a pine tree that suited his desires. He was still irked from being woken up so early on this brisk Saturday morning and he wasn't ready to make it easy.

Mike trotted ahead of him, smiling as he saw a tall, plump looking tree, screaming to be cut down and decorated. He turned around to find Dylan staring at a different tree. His smile almost instantly disappeared.

"Dylan, no."

The Goth scoffed and then ran his fingers over the top of the tree. It couldn't have looked sadder. It was about as tall as Dylan's hip and as brown and lifeless as a tree can get before it turns to ash.

"You don't understand," He started, "This tree represents this entire seaso-"

"No, you don't understand that every tree here is the same price. I'm not paying sixty dollars for that, Moofy."

Dylan felt his irritation rise. Sure, he was slightly mooching here, but to use that name! That stupid pet name that always made him feel as if he were a child, being called by an overbearing mother. He took a second to calm himself, before continuing what he was going to say. "This tree is the best symbol this season could have." He heard Mike sigh, but he continued, "The stale and fragile state your society is in, every little movement causes another part to break off and shatter against the cold ground. The fact that it's so small, totally insignificant in the scheme of things, won't help the fact that it's already passed on. You use the corpses of these once-living trees, things that help you breathe every day, to amuse yourselves. You stand them up as a display and cover them will little symbols that mean nothing to you and set under them the true reason this wretched holiday continues on. It's all about your materialism and the fact that none of you can-"

"Fine! I'll get you the damn tree!! But I'm getting a nice one too, per se… For god's sake."

Dylan seemingly joyfully plucked the tree from the ground (it wasn't very hard, having been dead for quite a while). The wanna-be Vampire couldn't stay mad. He never could.

"Why can't I make you happy?"

"Because you don't buy me dead trees."

"I am, now."

The other boy looked over at him, a small smirk gracing his lips, "And now I'm as close as a Goth can get to being happy."

Mike groaned, letting his down-jacket clad shoulders slump. He felt two cold, thin arms snake around his neck. He looked down to see the Red Goth's face inches from his, his expression neutral other than slightly raised eyebrows. He pulled Dylan's small frame against his and rubbed their noses together.

The Goth closed the distance between their lips, turning his head slightly and shifting his body to make the most of the warmth. He felt his ears start to warm up, as they had started doing lately. He hated it.

But he liked it.

But he hated it.

But he, of course, liked it.

Mike grinned widely, what Dylan might call stupidly, and started heading for the tree he had originally wanted. The other boy trotted behind him, carrying his victory in one hand.

"We better be having coffee after this."

"You're supposed to have apple cider when you get Christmas trees."

"I want coffee."

"It's a Christmas tradit-"

"I want coffee."

"Fine."